Catchfence

Well loyal readers and you other folks, I’m gettin’ tired of explainin’ my reasons for bein’ absent from the Internet literary world, yet again. I must say I am tickled pink and a bit stumped at bein’ missed so much, but, it is what it is, I guess, and that’s a good thing so thanks a whole big bunch. I got a bit on the puney side here and just couldn’t think straight enough to make my usual good sense, so, I just didn’t try, truthfully. I had a touch of the chicken itch and it turned ugly on me, let me tell you that right now, well that and I had this horrible headache on top of the unendin’ scratchin’.

I will say this much, I did not think our B.S. Editor from this ridiculous, one page if we’re lucky, newspaper should have published that picture of me laid out like that in the emergency room, if you can call the old feed store buildin’ that. I mean, it still smells like hay and chicken feed and I am not at all sure that isn’t where I got the chicken itch to begin with when I was there with my pet rabbit Gordon (not for eatin but that’s a tale for another time and space’) last week, but, that’s neither here nor there.

Our veterinarian, Doc Mudd, did a bang up job of tryin’ to help me. I mean he really did, literally! See, we don’t have a true medical doctor around here, but, we do have good ol’ Doc Mudd. He is a genuine trusted member of our community and has treated nearly all of the animals and us humans around these here parts for years now. Anyway, I went in to his clinic/emergency room/old feed store buildin’ for some sort of immediate help cause I just didn’t feel right, if you know what I mean. Bernadette, his receptionist (and show off if you ask me) took me in the examinin’ room and told me to turn on my tummy and lift up the back of my shirt so as to expose the affected area. Doc came in, took one look and said, “Yep, it’s the chicken itch! I’ve got just the ointment for that,” so he reached for a jar on the shelf above me and the whole blamed thing fell on my head! Banged me up pretty good, I can tell you that right now.

Anyway, B. S. Editor was there lurkin’ around tryin’ to find some sort of note worthy news and heard me yellin’ and snapped a very unflatterin’ picture of me sprawled flat on my tummy, with powders, ointments and various medicinal thingies spilled all over and round about my body and with the affected area showin’ clearly. The title for the picture read “Local Writer Exposed!” How embarrassin’! I may sue his sleazy publication yet, but I did get some pretty nice get well cards, and a few not so nice ones, if you know what I mean. I don’t want to appear like you know who but.I do know which card you sent Walter (behind the meat counter) just so you know and you will pay dearly for that, I can tell you that right now. I will say this much, however, I will be glad when cool weather comes. These here summer months have not been good to me at all this year! My Vegas trip was only supposed to be for a few days (even though I did meet some precious young ladies) and now this! It has delayed my yearly picklin efforts immensely. It is just frustratin’! Why, it has set me back a good month or more in every one of my important efforts, and I am a very busy (or should be) woman! Know what I mean?

Anyway, let’s get to the real meat of this meal and that is racin’. First up is, ever present in my columns, young Mr. Busch. Sometimes I want to say ,”Will the REAL Kyle get out of that car.” Sometimes my head feels like it’s spinnin’ when I am referrin’ to him. Sometimes sweet, sometimes not, sometimes cold, sometimes hot. (That was so clever of me if you know what I mean) Like good ol’ Forrest says…”you never know what you’re gonna get” with this boy! Am I by myself here? I don’t think so, but that is neither here nor there. First I think I need to explain somethin. I think this young whipper snapper is an amazin’ talent. Amazin’!!! He is! No one with any amount of workin’ brain matter can dispute that fact, so, it isn’t his drivin’ abilities that sticks in my craw. It’s his other on track or in front of the camera behavior that gets my goat, not that this matters to anyone other than Kyle Busch fans, who happen to be some of my loyal readers (and you know who you are). I think it’s his “better than butter” attitude that makes me hotter than usual! When things head to the shed for that boy, it is always someone else’s fault. Look, truth be told some of that stuff he says is accurate, but, geez Louise, boy…this is racin’ you are involved in! The 3 R’s apply here and always have, sugar! Racin’ (is) ‘rubbin’ or reckin’ (or both). Anyway, I read an article on the Internet before the electricity in our town went out for 3 full days, which is yet another story for another time and space but you have never seen as big a “cook out” as we had here, let me tell you that right now with rabbit, squirrel, some, but not too much chicken, pickled pigs feet, peppered parsnips galore so as not to let good food go to waste, and so much MORE, of course. (After all food is money and visa versa.) Anyway, the article asked if Busch was a changed man. Answer is of course not! The article also leans towards the fact that he is a pleasant peasant when he wins and a ticked off tookie when he loses. Understandable! It is how he is a ticked off tookie that curdles my milk. Know what I mean? Be mad when you lose or get wrecked. Go ahead, but, just remember when you are so busy blamin’ everyone else for your racin’ woes, honey, those someone elses are busy publicly laughin’ at you, quite possibly. And frankly young man, some people say you are a very, very funny guy this season. Know what I mean? All that said…congratulations on your Bristol win. You did an awesome job there young’un! And if there is another win of yours I missed during these tryin’ times of mine, well, blame it on our town’s extention cord burnin’ out. Good job there Stump or Shrub. I never seem to get your nickname right, but, that is neither here nor there.

And as for flippin’ (meant in the sweetest way possible) Carl Edwards, well darlin’ you were just wonderful up there in that foreign country. You just did a great job. Congrats on your win! Of course you have an open invitation here at my house, honey! We can eat, discuss your career, eat again, talk, whatever darlin’. Anytime. I mean that!

As for Marcos Ambrose. Honey, I sure am sorry you didn’t win. But there can only be one, as they say. Next year has your name on it. I’d bet my left shoe on that! You are one of those drivers I think Kyle Busch was reversely referrin’ to when he was talking about who didn’t deserve to win. Does that make sense? In other words, you should have won. Mercy! I still have a bit of a headache. Anyway, great job sweetie! I love your accent, by the way. Reminds me of Burney Potts, our used to be race reporter for this one page if we’re lucky newpaper. He wasn’t born in Australia. He was born and bred right here in the good ol’ USA, but, he got his head caught in a beehive one time (a long and often misrepresented story which is neither here nor there) and those stingin’ suckers stung the heck out of his tongue and he just never recovered completely. Some rude people in our town have called him Beehive Burney, or B.B.P. Obviouly, some people can be rude and thoughtless and our little town seems to have plenty of them, I can tell you that right now, but, as you can tell, that’s just neither here nor there.

So, that’s it for now my loyal readers and you other folks. I am just plum tuckered out! Sorry for any email I missed, but, no electricity = no email and when I did have electricity I was busy scratchin’ my, uh, back. I’ll try to make up for it when time allows. Go ahead, send me your comments and/or complaints. Let’s keep it clean though. Ok? And remember I will try to stay current on my answerin’s but do remember, if you will, that I am goin’ back to bein’ a very busy woman. Know what I mean?