Beetle wants a cell phone! What?

That's right, you heard me correctly, Beetle wants a cell phone. How hilarious! Can you picture her texting and taking pics with a telephone? What's next for Beetle? Twitter or Facebook? I can see her now, updating her FB status, "Beetle Cornett is watching the Reds." or "Beetle Cornett is making Christmas ornaments." or "Beetle Cornett and Bob are going to McDonald's for some chicken nuggets." Just when I think Beetle couldn't possibly get any cooler, she does.

Does homework ever get enjoyable? You'd think that since I voluntarily went to grad school and am studying a topic that I like, homework wouldn't be so painful, but it is. I'd rather nap while Doogie watches football (our Sunday tradition), but alas, I shall write. That being said, my report that is due Tuesday is on a topic of my choosing, and hence, is very cool: oral history and folklore. Exactly what it is I am to be reporting, I haven't a clue. I'll do what I think, and hopefully, that'll work!

Work....waaaaaay worse than school. We shall spend no more time discussing the topic. Instead, we'll talk about awesome things: food! I have planned a superb dinner menu for this week: chicken noodle soup, Italian hoagies, taco soup, chicken and dressing casserole. Mmm good. Quick and easy, which was very unlike the trip to Kroger to acquire the groceries for this week. I was nearly run over twice by a rather large woman in a motorized cart. The first incident, she hit my buggy on her way to the deli bar to holler that she needed more thick-sliced roast beef. The second incident, she came creeping up behind me in the produce section, "Uh, ma'am. Excuse me, ma'am? Are those any good?" she asks me of the pineapple I was putting in my cart. I reply, "What? Pineapple? Yes, pineapples are good." She goes on, "I was wondering. I've never had real pineapple. I've only eaten it from a can." What's worse: Kroger in Latonia or Walmart in Hazard?

Put your shirt on, Covington!

Yesterday, as we (Doogie and me) were driving home from work, we stopped at the gas station to fill up Betty Blue's tank. "BANG! SCREECH! POW!" A ruckus was coming from the direction of Frisch's Big Boy. I, of course, am deaf and did not hear, but Doogie asks, "Did you see that? Some dude just wiped out on his motorized razor scooter." "What? Did he hit a car? Is he okay?" I inquire. "Yes," Doug goes on, "He was driving like a maniac and wiped out coming around the curve." We pulled out of the gas station parking lot and onto the road directly in front of Frisch's and in front of the dazed razor scooter driver, who looked to be in his mid 30s. Doug says, "I feel bad for him. Even though he is a grown man, driving a razor scooter, like a maniac, with no helmet, and no shirt."

Intruder Alert! Intruder Alert!

I want you guys to know, that if an intruder comes into our home and tries to murder me, Douglas will sleep through it. He always claims that I would do such a thing, but this morning, I was attacked (by a spider) and screamed bloody murder. Do you think there was the slightest inquery about my blood curdling screech? Not one. He was upstairs all cozy and warm, under the electric blanket, snuggling with the cats, while I was nearly killed! I have a bruise on my finger from hitting the tip of it on the chest of drawers as I tried to demolish Charlotte's freaking web! It hurts. Oh the pain! I could be dead! It could have killed me! No one cares. Not even a cat; they were probably all too busy snuggling Sleeping Beauty.

NOTE: Oh have mercy! I tried to google an image of the spider who attacked me, but nearly passed out at the images that popped up on google. I'm going to be having nightmares for the rest of my life. I uploaded a picture more appropriately matched with my spider-image tolerance (only because Wilbur is so darn cute).

Pulled a Papaw

Welp, I've done it. I've scorched my tongue off. Yessir, I've pulled a Forrest Cornett and ate something right out of the oven, let me correct that, right from the oven (the roasting pan was still in there)! Lord, why did I think it was a good idea to eat that little Kix morsel covered in chex mix seasoning goodness BEFORE it came out the oven? I amaze myself.

Me, myself, and Flash Gordon. That's the crew here at 125 tonight. Oh, BC, Sasquatch, and Mr are here, too, but they're too cool for Sunday school and too cool to hang with their Mama and little bro, evidently. Oh well, Flashy and I needed a break from homework, so thought we'd holler at all 7 of you folks who read this blog. Tonight's major accomplishment: Flash Gordon Fears the Reaper (FG's reaper = the squirt bottle; he gets accosted every time he hops up on the new dining room table). Flashy's gotta have more cowbell!

Hells bells! I better get back to this homework. Freeman Tilden is calling my name, "Read me, Allison. Know all their is to know about the museum biness." Goodnight, my friends.

Oral history

Some say our generation has lost out on traditional storytelling. Instead of sitting on the front porch or around the dinner table sharing stories, we're in front of the television watching someone else's story, which is probably far less interesting than our own. When I go home to Dwarf, I am taken back to a place where time stands still, where the front porch is exactly the place to be!

Telling of tales is one of my favorite things about going home. I like to listen to my Mommaw talk about eating her first graham cracker and how she can remember just the way it tasted. I like to hear about the time she accidentally took a swig of Frank Mowdry's Fresca, thinking it was hers--it was full of whiskey, but that wasn't any worse than the fact that Frank's lips had been on the very spot her lips were now. I like hearing about Papaw's days of driving the hearse for Engle Brothers' Funeral Home, and how he got a speeding ticket while he was hauling a body from Breathitt County, and how the officer got smart with him, "That ole boy don't look like he's in no hurry." Or what about the time Pap stopped to get him a burger and the proprietor of the Dairy Bar quickly gave him his food and politely told him to hit the road, "And get that hearse out of my parking lot!"

The best part about hearing these stories is listening to the storytellers themselves. Be it Uncle Glenn re-enacting Uncle Roy's battle to free himself from his coveralls when the pain in his stomach hit or Mommaw imitating Aunt Eunice's jaunt down Flat Mary Rd when her bra straps gave out! They get tickled and can hardly tell the story!

I particularly enjoy the way Mommaw, when telling a story, says words she would otherwise never say. I mean bad words, friends. It is okay to say these words because it's not really her saying them; the narrator or character in the story is saying the bad words. However, let the record show that Mommaw did say, "bitching" last Christmas of her own volition.

With these stories, we're able to keep our family alive. Every time I go home, someone tells a story about Papaw or Aunt Eunice. I'll always remember the family members who have passed not only from the way they touched my life directly but indirectly through family stories. I never met my great grandpa, Pa Jim, but from stories, I know he's where my Mommaw and Aunt Eunice get their sense of humor.

I don't want to lose these stories. I want to always remember them and share them with my children, who will never get the opportunity to know their Great Grandpa (my Papaw), but they'll just the same sing his songs, because I will sing them and thus, they will know their Pap, "Had a little mule and his name was cow, put him in the barn, but he didn't know how."

October is here!

I can't believe I let the month of October arrive without a blog post. I must be slipping in my old age! FYI- I am sitting here on the couch next to a green blob that moves from time to time. It is Flash Gordon, burrowed under a cover. I don't think he likes the drop in temperature. Just wait til winter rolls around, and his slumlord father refuses to crank up the heat. Maybe I need to purchase Flashy a little sweater. I think Flashy should be a pumpkin for Halloween, but Doug thinks the costume is too expensive. BC will be a turtle. Doogie got his costume in the mail a couple of days ago. It is pretty suave. Yay Halloween!

Pencils for a Quarter

Remember what was cool---the paper and pencil machine at Robinson Elementary: $0.50 for a pack of paper and $0.25 for a pencil. I would always try to save my quarters so I could buy a pencil (the paper pads were LAME). They were always so cool! Glittery, purple pencils with hearts or polkadots on them. If you didn’t like the one you got, you could always trade with someone. I never traded. I always loved the pencil I got. It was such a treat! And what I really, really loved were the Book Fairs and the Troll Book Orders. Do you remember those? I never got to buy anything from the Troll Book Orders. I was always so envious of the “rich” kids who got to order books from Troll--Madlibs! At the bookfair, I usually only had enough money to buy a bookmark or an eraser. I had the cutest bookmark that I purchased from there, though. I wish I still had it. It had a little worm on it: a bookworm. Once, Mommaw gave me $5 for the book fair. I bought a book: Timothy of the Cay. My Lord, what a great book! It was the first book I ever read that made me cry. My second favorite book was "Otherwise Known as Shelia the Great." I bought that for Doogie's niece when she was around the age I was when I was obsessed with it. Yeah, she just opened her Christmas present, "A book?" and tossed it aside. Children these days.

Days like these are the most difficult: you have a ton of work to do, but you don't want to do any of it. I've been having a lot of days like that lately. I need to get focused and motivated. Maybe I can use the weekend to regroup, for today is FRIDAY, just 8 hours and 10 minutes until freedom. Tick tock tick tock. What does the weekend have in store for me? Perhaps Doogie will take me on a date? Maybe some homework? Definitely a movie or 2 or maybe some Lost. Oh, the possibilities.