The Dirty South.

2

July 30, 2011 by sandwichcontrol

Yesterday was a day of getting filthy dirty. Don’t believe me? Ask Little Miss Cotton. I spent most of my day glazing. I did stop glazing, however, to unload the clay truck which delivered to us the much need 2400 lbs. (1089 kg) of clay powder. Filthy dirty. If you take into consideration the fact that just touching a single bag of clay gets you dusty, multiply that amount of dustiness by number of bags to be moved (46 bags) from the truck into the van, then move those same bags again from the van into the studio, so that’s another 46, add the factor of 38°C with a humidity level between 31 and 79, so you are drenched in sweat due to the relatively low evaporation rate… I think you get the picture. What was once a chance of getting dusty has quickly become a chance of getting muddy. After the clay truck, I resumed my glazing. Little Miss Cotton, on the other hand, got a lessen in making clay so her filthiness continued on in a much steeper gradient than mine.

At some point I had to run out to FedEx to drop off some orders and I thought that would be the opportune time to go get Pancake Land’s birthday presnents. After the huge debacle with Amazon and UPS, I decided to shop around locally. The problem is that I was shopping for gear for P.L.’s soprano ukulele. That’s not a hot commodity in this town. Originally, I had ordered her this hard case:

Do you understand now why I couldn’t have possibly missed this, say sticking out of the bushes? So, since that case was out of the question I opted to go for a water proof gig bag and a chromatic tuner. Birthday shop for Pancake Land. Check. So, it was back to work I went. I spent the rest of the trying to get ahead for the firing we’re planning on Tuesday.

I accomplished the dirty part whilst working. Once off of work it was time to get to work on the south part. I made chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, and sweet corn for dinner. Oh, and lots of peppered gravy. This is when irony, or karma, or whatever you want to call it, popped in for a visit. I’m elbow deep in cooking southern food, I’m tired, I’m hungry, I’m sweaty, and all I want is to sit down with my lady and slip into a food coma. The last thing I need or want is visitors. Ding Dong. There goes the doorbell.

(insert growl and sneering face here) Actually hold on a second… here:

Who could it possibly be? Oh, of course, it’s the UPS man delivering the already delivered package two days late. That’s right. After all of that headache, and phone calls, and everything, they deliver the stupid thing like it was no big deal. And the strangest part of all of it is that I had this little tiny sneaking suspicion that this would happen. I sometimes think that my life is a sitcom. Zaxxon says that it’s more like Charlie Brown. So, anyway, Pancake Land came over and I showered her with gifts and southern cooking. Then we made out while listening to the Otis Redding channel on Pandora.

vrt…vrt…vrt…

Ignore call. More making out.

vrt…vrt…vrt…

Ignore call. More making out.

Then the voicemail buzzing. Check missed calls. Teacher Sis and Word to Me. Uh-oh. Check voicemail. They are driving to Hot Springs. They think my Nanny had a stroke. Great. After checking in later, it turns out not to be a stroke, but a urinary tract infection has spread into her blood stream. Sepsis. Better than a stroke. But, not by much. I talked to them a little while ago and her computed tomography (CT) scan showed no sign of stroke or tumors. Good news. Also, antibiotics seem to be kicking infection’s butt. Will keep you posted.

Two steps forward. One step back.

That’s my year so far. So, my Saturday plans have changed to me staying home and cleaning the kitchen very thoroughly and then beginning the reorganization of my office. At some point today, we need to take Quingo in for his shots. Can’t forget to do that. Anyways, gonna get to it. More soon. ~SC


2 comments »

  1. Dave says:

    Hey at least you got the case you wanted.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Associates

Subscribe

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 37 other subscribers