Mahala holes up over in North Carolina, and my darling daughter Tracy visits with her on a blog.  She thinks that she has located a kindred soul in my voyage through the circuitous unmarked trails of trying to find my way through the woods.

You be the judge of her mauling of the English Language—east of the Mississippi slough nigh to Frog Pond Holler.

It’s a fur piece from Poverty Sink Texas to Frog Pond Holler and I’ll probably not make the trip.  But, I’m awed by the possibility the Mahala has a vise grip handle on what ails America. Foolishness is in short supply, smiles are extinct—what with all the traps for the unwary—and the wary to boot.

Following is a snippet from her, which first saw daylight on January 8, 2009, and she apparently has free rein on her weekly eruptions.

Fried Cuisine and Rising Water

Lawd ya'll, this new schedule has me all screwed up. You'd think with two extra "free" hours in the day I'd be getting all kindsa stuff done. Instead, I have to busta move to get things done in six hours at work, then I go home and I'm at a loss for what to do with myself.

Oh and for the record.. I was here a good 15 minutes this morning before I had already mouthed off to the GM.

The weather's been all kittywampus in the holler the past few days. Last night it snowed and rained ... then snowed.. all evening. This morning the creek's way up and the frog pond over on the vacant lot is oozing out of it's banks. We're still waiting for winter to take hold, the freezing temperatures have been coming in 24 hour spurts before warming back up to the forties and fifties.

I was discussing the weird weather with Buster the other day when he stopped by my cube. We're both in agreement that snakes are going to be crawlin' worse than usual this summer. Buster says they're good eatin' and that we need to capitalize on the tourist trade by opening up a roadside stand, sellin' fried ratt'ler on a stick. He said, "Them tourists would be all over that, like white on rice!"

I pointed out to him that while we do have rattlesnakes here, copperheads and black snakes are more common... and weren't the rattlesnakes a protected species? He said, "Onced you fried up some copperhead and slapped a little Texas Pete on thar, ain't nobuddy gonna know it ain't ratt'ler!"

By the time he got through talking about it, I could feel the hives popping out around my ankles. Too much snake talk does that to me.

Anywho, I'd better get back to work. Ya'll have a good one.

Later Taters!