Cleo, Mister and Sissy...Part I

It was late Saturday afternoon and I was beginning to pack up the remnants from my weekend yard sale when an old beat up station wagon pulled slowly down the driveway. I glanced in their direction and was met with three hands stuck out the window all waving in unison at me. "Hey! Are you closed? Do we have time to pick through your leftovers? I told Mister here that we needed to get our butts, pardon my French, in gear or we was gonna miss all the sales and be late for the Singing," the elderly woman said. "Nope, you're not too late. Have a look around, you might find something that you can't live without and it'll be less for me to pack up," I answered. The car stopped and out climbed the old woman who was wearing orange lounging pants, a deep purple moo moo and black Chuck Taylor running shoes. Her wig sat perched slightly askew on her head and her straw hat sat off center the other way giving her a slightly lopsided look. She approached me immediately, extended her hand and said, "I'm Cleo, that's Mister, who I been shacked up with since '76, when my husband up and died on me. Ain't got no strings on him, he's free to come and go as he pleases, s'long as he pleases me. He He!" I shook her hand and she continued. "That lady there is his daughter, Sissy. She stays with us sometimes, usually when her old man goes on a drunk and starts beating up on her. I, swan, for the likes of me can't fathom the way some women put up with them goings on. I told Mister here if he ever laid a hand on me I'd cut it off as fast as I could pull my knife out. You're old man ever do that to you? Get yourself a knife, that'll keep him in line. Look at me, going off at the mouth like that. Let me get here and see what you got for sale. I'm proud to say I don't ever buy nothin' new, I get all my stuff at yard sales. Hey Mister, you got any more of that snuff with you? Let me get some, this little lady might want some. You like my outfit? I got it last week over at the community thrift store." Mister, wearing bib overalls, a Grateful Dead t-shirt and a John Deere cap, walked over to us and offered the aforementioned can of snuff. I declined politely and so did Cleo. Mister shrugged his shoulders, drew his head back, and spat out a big ole drop of brown gooey tobacco juice that left a trail from is chin halfway down to his boots. "Wipe yourself Mister! This lady don't want to see your spit. Go get your cup..."

Is That For Sale?

So, I was crazy enough to have another yard sale before winter set in, by myself. I asked mom if she wanted to come help but she thought I was nuts for trying to have a sale this late in the year and she wasn't participating. (I guess it didn't matter that I was selling some of her stuff) Anyhow, midway between my umpteenth visit to the basement, attic, and storage building, my back gave out. I backed into the metal part on my utility trailer and gave myself a six inch long bruise and then I sprained my ankle when I doubled over in pain from bumping the trailer. Needless to say, it was after 10:30 AM this morning before I had put my signs up by the road, and by yard sale standards, that was extremely late if I hoped to make any money. Since I live at the bottom of a hill I get a lot of folks that slow down and then realize that I am at the bottom of a hill and keep on going. Fine! If you're too lazy to get out and look then you probably want to complain about the prices of everything and want me to sell you a twenty-five dollar item for twenty-five cents. Keep going, I don't want your business anyway. The third guy that pulled up wanted to buy my utility trailer. The fourth guy that pulled up wanted to know if I had any mowers I wanted to get rid of. Now, that's a loaded question. I've discussed before about my piece of crap mower and what you don't know is that the danged thing broke down again earlier this year. I took the guy to the basement and showed him the mower and he started asking if my tools, my fishing poles, and my Christmas decorations were for sale. He made me a tad nervous so I hightailed it back up front. Weirdo. Later, someone wanted to buy my leaf rake. Another wanted to by a bistro table (which I don't have) and someone else wanted to buy a microwave. Mom called early afternoon and asked how things were going. I was bellyaching about my bruised butt (which was the part that ran into the trailer), my ankle that I had wrapped in an ace bandage that was horribly swollen and how everyone wanted to buy everything that wasn't for sale. Mom's response: "I didn't know you was selling your trailer. How much you want for it?"

You Made Mom Cry

Recently, I asked readers of MA Fat Woman if they might be interested in acquiring one of mom's finely crafted hand/dish towels than can be hung from a drawer handle or the stove, anywhere actually. I asked readers to leave a comment and I would give them the information. Now, I don't get a whole lot of comments. I'm not sure why; it could be that I'm not a big responder like some folks do. Or, the story was so funny or moving that it left you speechless. (I like that one) I'm not one that has to have the last word, so mainly, I just let the story speak for itself. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE comments, and that's why I was surprised that the dish towels didn't receive any comments, not one. Goodness! You would have thought I was knocking on doors for donations or ringing the bell for the Salvation Army the way everyone avoided that post. Of course, mom saw the lack of comments in a totally different light than I did. I could hears tears in her voice as she began the rant with, "I thought you said people read that blog of yours. I worked really hard on crocheting those towels. You'd think that someone, anyone, would at least say they were pretty." If you have the time, check out Mom's towels and tell her how pretty they are. Trust me, it'll make life easier for everyone.

The Second Best One Liner...Ever

If you missed the best one liner ever you can check it out here. Sister: "How's the weight loss going?" MA Fat Woman: "Gaining every day...Thanks for asking"

If You're Interested...Wishful Wednesday

Mom's been doing some crocheting and she wishes she can sell a few of these beautiful hand towels. Yes, they are handmade. And yes, she made them. If you're interested just leave me a comment.

An Open Letter

Dear Mom, Please get your flu shots!! Signed, Your daughter MA Fat Woman

New Used Car Tactics

I was visiting with Friend the other day when she told me about an unusual phone call she got. We both thought it was pretty funny and decided to share it with you. I'm going to tell the story from Friend's perspective. Phone ringing... Hello? Caller: Is this Mary? Yes, it is. Caller: Well, this is Sam from your local Ford dealer and I was inquiring about your 2002 Ford Explorer. What about it? Caller: Do you still have it? Yes, I do. Caller: Well, we'd like to buy it. Who would? Caller: Your local Ford dealer... Why? Caller: Well, we are looking for quality pre-owned vehicles to fill our inventory. What are you going to give me for it? Caller: Well, you would have to bring it in and we would do a thorough check of everything to make sure it runs okay... What do you mean do a thorough check of everything? You should know every sound that it makes since you had it for two months and had to put four transmissions in it and a power train to boot. It cost me over four thousand bucks and hours and hours of my time and now you're telling me that ... Caller: Ma'am? Don't cut me off! What kind of racket are you people running anyway? Used car salesmen calling folks at home wanting to buy their cars. It's all just a scam, isn't it? Get someone in there, harass and haggle them to death on the pretext of wanting to buy their cars and then try and sell them a new car. I don't think so Mister! And, by the way, I'm on the Do Not Call List! Caller: Ma'am, if you would like to set up an... Click!