my redneck gripe with the rebels

Hubs is working in Mississippi these days. We visited him this past weekend. My biggest complaint with the grand state of Mississippi? Y'alls bathrooms in your Wal-Marts are backwards. The women's bathroom is on the side that the men's should be on. Yes, you may judge me, but please, please be nice about it. My fragile redneck self can't take too much criticism after the fun (but tiring) weekend we had.

dear mr. postman

Please excuse the rant...it had to go somewhere.

Dear Mr. Postman,

I'm not sure what has you so confused lately. Whether it's the fact that my last name AND address are posted on my mailbox or the fact that you've been delivering our mail for 4 years now, please overcome the obstacle so that I might get MY mail and NOT my neighbor's. After a long day at work, it does me no good to find medicaid notices for the neighbor's dozen kids (with a dozen last names) or their mail from their parole officer or their (continuing) unemployment benefit status or their subscription to Pit Bull Illustrated...Whatever it takes is worth it. By the way, can I interest you in a beautiful house in a wonderful neighborhood? I hear it's got great neighbors...

Sincerely,

Rachel in Paradise

those crazy americans

I have a well-traveled friend ("Mrs. C"). She's always going on one vacation or another. I, on the other hand, have never travelled to exotic locales and am always interested in hearing more about one place or another. Mrs. C apparently has specific packing requirements for each of her trips, which she passes along to all who accompany her. It was with much laughter that Mrs. C and a fellow traveller relayed this story.

Mrs. C enjoys bringing many souvenirs back from her travels, and is thus, always looking for more room in her suitcase. Therefore, she throws her dirty underwear away. (Her rationale? "Who wants to carry dirty underwear around for a couple of weeks?") This has proved quite useful on several trips. However, on her first trip to Paris, Mrs. C must have royally confused the housekeeper. The poor housekeeper found dirty underwear in the trashcan EVERY DAY, but she dutifully folded it up and placed it near Mrs. C's bags. Can't you hear her muttering now? "Crazy Americans--this is no laundry service!"

you know you live in a small town when, version 3,586

Mary Poppins, our wonderful fantabulous baby sitter had a bit of a crisis last week. Her husband had a heart attack. He's doing MUCH better now and things are back on their way to being semi-normal. I'm sure part of the quick healing has occured due to the high number of prayers and well wishes for this family...In fact, he received 2 get well cards on Friday. One was from his ex-wife and her third husband. The other was from his ex-wife's second ex-husband...only in a small town like Paradise... : )