Kathleen H. Taylor
fieldaflowas@yahoo.com
I'm back again with mighty pen in hand. I'll keep coming back for more until I get removed from office or I go crazy. I might be closer to the latter.
Hats off to Coach Holden and the gang for a great game. There were a few faux pas such as penalties and an attitude adjustment. But, all in all, a super game. The South will rise again! Avery even got the Rebel spirit and had his mean mother paint his face. It's interesting how I am not the evil demon he makes me out to be when we are doing something fun. It's a whole different ballpark. Ethan decided he would let me put some blue paint in his hair. He wasn't about to put anything on his face. God forbid someone might think his mom painted his face. That would be an intense crime.
The Beauty Crew is counting the days until the Skynryd show. We have not come up with the whole game plan yet, but rest assured Pittsburgh will remember us fondly.
I have received an invitation to go whitewater rafting. First of all, why would anyone ask the biggest pansy on the face of the planet to do this? I must appear braver than what I really am. It then occurred to me they were unaware of the first experience I had. I went rafting with an ornery group of hospital staff and EMT's. On the bus ride down to the river, they had me convinced that our bus driver was a prisoner doing his community service. That helped me so much.
After we started rafting, we'd pass a rock with a brass plate on it. I thought they had named the rocks. It seems there always have been natural formations that someone has given a name. For example, there is a rock around here called "Devil's Dinner Table". There has to be a horror story to that one. Anyway, our rafting group then informed me those rocks marked areas where people were killed. I told them to just let me out and I would call a cab. I am here to say there is no cab-calling on the New River. You are S.O.L. But, I might put on a brave face and go rafting again. After all, I am just a thrill seeker!
According to my sources, there will be an old fashioned molasses makin' party in Lewisburg this weekend. As exciting as that sounds, I am pretty sure I will be a groupie in Pittsburgh instead. I have been told one of the Huffman bachelors will be off to boot camp shortly after this weekend. Ladies, I have his name and number and he is totally available.
My patience is wearing very thin with a nameless telephone company. I was supposed to have new service and the whole nine yards on Friday. Well, it's Monday and no service to be found. It wouldn't really irritate me so much if we didn't' get the run-around all the time. One never knows if a technician will really show up or just hang out at the office. We also have lines that need replaced and those that we do have are being creatively destroyed by the local wildlife. I called again this evening about my service and was told they might get to it by next Monday. If I vote for Obama, could he do something about my service? Of course, then again, I could write myself on the ballot. I think I should be in charge. I might want to try whitewater rafting again before I take on the world.
My song choice of the week is, "A Country Boy Can Survive" (in this case, "A Country Girl Can Survive") by the one and only Hank, Jr. Every one needs a good hit of Hank every once in awhile.
Peace.
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