Is That a Panther?

Naaawwww...no panther. Just our black cat, Stockings, who has
never forgiven us for referring to him as "she" until we took her to
be spayed, and the vet said, "Uh...do you mind if we neuter this one
stead of spay him?" OK, so I'm not good at sexing cats. Wouldn't
you be more worried if I was? I'm not as bad as my friend Mabel,
who still calls her cat, Lovey, "she", even though she knows he is a
boy. And I didn't name this cat "Stockings," either. #1 son did that.
It's the name of Bill Clinton's cat, isn't it? That's OK. I have no
problem with my man Bill.

The point of this picture is that our Hillbilly Fishpond has some major
design flaws, and I'm all about pointing out the flaws if they're not mine.
Aside from the brackish green/brown water, we have the fake turtle,
fake owl, fake sunflower, fake bunny, and large seashell. I approve of
the river rock, and the big flat rocks that my Hillbilly Husband and #1
son hauled from the creek in numerous trips. I am neutral on the plants.
I just do not agree with HH's mixing of the fake species. There are too
many in such a small space.

But the real point is that I do not always agree with my HH. I have read
several blogs where the husband and wife never fight! Where is this
strange land? I know, maybe they don't want to show their bad sides
on the blog. It just seems unreal.

Don't these men leave their skidmarked underwear on the floor? Don't
they leave a melted drop of ice cream on the counter every night after
the woman has cleaned up? Don't they find her chocolate Easter bunny
in the fridge in June and help themselves? Don't they make a scene about
babysitting their own kids? Not that my HH does any of these, mind you.
It is information I have gathered over the years.

And what about her? Doesn't she nag him to take out the trash? Harp
at him to put in a lightbulb higher than 40 watts? Demand that he stay
out of strip clubs? Snore like a freight train until he wants to put a pillow
over her face?

I find it hard to believe that any marriage can be as perfect as some of
these I read about in Blogland. Why, Mother Teresa herself would've
liked to kick her husband to the curb every once in a while. Maybe that
is not a good example, what with Mother Teresa being a nun and all,
and not having a husband, unless you count God, which we certainly
must count God, and even though I am not a religious person, I think it
would be a serious relationship faux pas to kick God to the curb,
because that is kind of disrespectful, and you never know when that
lightning bolt just might shoot down out of the sky to make you mind
your manners.

Now don't go getting paranoid if you're on my blogroll and think this
is about you. I know some of you have issues every now and then,
because you share it with us. And that is much more refreshing than
sweeping it under the rug (how come the woman has to do the sweeping,
huh?) and more entertaining for me to read. Which is a must, because
this IS all about ME, you know. I think I might have mentioned that just
one time.

I don't get along with HH all the time. But I know how to pick my battles.
So he can decorate that Hillbilly Fishpond any old way he wants, and he
can leave the fake Christmas tree in a box by the pool table all year. But
when I think something is important, you can bet that I'll come out the winner.

Loose Ends

I have a few loose ends to tie up this week. I'd like you to think I'm
gonna wrap 'em up real purty and tie 'em with a big red bow, but let
me warn you now, I've been known to wrap Christmas presents in
wallpaper. Hey, it was cheap. I used to work in an insurance salvage
store, and you can't get much cheaper than "free." Or much cheaper
than "me."

Well, OK, maybe you can, because I just thought of this friend we
used to have when my Future Hillbilly Husband and I lived in separate
apartments together. This friend lived in FHH's building. They were
all a little strange over there, what with FHH shooting his boy's pellet
gun up through the ceiling into his neighbor's apartment, and that 40
year old man and his wife who worked at a children's home 7 days
on and 7 days off who liked to wear a SPEEDO in the pool, which
was I must say a kind of anatomy lesson for the little girl whose parents
also lived in that building with their 1970s model Oldsmobile with a
peeling vinyl top that the carwash peeled all the way off and they were
going to sue the carwash. And I haven't even mentioned the insurance
adjuster who was almost my boyfriend who spent the day not doing
his adjusting and latched onto an 18 year old girlfriend who was still
in high school which is in my opinion just oh, so wrong because she's
a KID, you fool, and why would her parents approve of her dating
a 30-something man, and all he had to say for himself was "Her skin
is so sooooft," to which FHH replied, "Yeah, BABY soft." But I digress.

The cheap friend lived with his wife, who was so sweet you could go
into a diabetic coma just talking to her (and if diabetic coma means
you don't get enough sugar, I am sorry, because I don't have time to
look up my medical facts what with all this digressing and run-on
sentences). They had cute little accents, him hailing from Dolly Partonland,
and her growing up in Bill Clintonland. So one night we planned a night
on the town chock full of supper and bowling, FHH and me and Cheapy
and the Sweet Little Woman. Our first clue that something was amiss was
when, on the way to the restaurant, Cheapy said, "FHH, could you drive
through that ATM? I don't have any money with me." So we did, and
Cheapy told SLW to put the card in and "Take out $20, Baby, because
you have to eat lunch out at school this week." ????? Since when did $20
buy supper and bowling and a week of lunches at the junior college nursing
program? I am not THAT old.

So we had supper and hightailed it to the bowling alley, where FHH
ordered up a pitcher of beer. He asked Cheapy if he was having any,
and he said, "No, I don't think I will tonight." When we visited Cheapy's
apartment, there was no shortage of THE BOOZE, so I though maybe
he had a big day tomorrow, or was a little under the weather. We bowled
and gossiped, and FHH saw some friends on the next lane because he
knows everybody in two counties. The friends got ready to leave, and
they had a half-full pitcher of beer left (or as I would say, half-empty,
because that's the kind of gal I am). The friends said, "Hey, do you want
that beer? We are leaving and don't want it." And before FHH could say
yes or no or thank you very much, Cheapy bellowed, "Baby, go get me a
glass." So he had turned us down because he was afraid FHH would
expect him to buy the next pitcher, I guess. Which is my point. He was
cheaper than me.

Now, getting back to the loose ends (I swear, I just never know where
this blog will take me when I sit down with no idea what I'm going to
write about) I must first mention the Bad Boy who shot two people last
Sunday, but more importantly, caused our school buildings to be on
lockdown all week (because it IS all about ME, you know, and this
was kind of inconvenient for me). He has not been caught, but we will
not be on lockdown next week. Which I guess is bad news and good
news.

Next, I have gotten through to a few of my Do-Nots, because they
came in with work to do and actually did it today. Yeah, 1st quarter
ends next Wednesday, so it's too little too late right now, but maybe
they can salvage their semester grades if they buckle down and stick
with it.

We are not rushing the paperwork to buy back our rightful land from
the Land-Stealer, since he is intent on throwing that Halloween party
on it. He did haul all the cedar logs onto his land 50 feet away. He
also has a big horse trailer parked there. #1 son exclaimed, "Oh, great!
He can't afford to pay for the land, but he can put air conditioning in
his horse trailer!" Uh...Son...I think he borrowed the horse trailer, since
we haven't seen it parked over there. In fact, I think he might be hauling
the cedar logs in it.

And in more important news, the Sonic guy I am having my fling with
gave me a great discount today. I ordered my usual poison, a large
Sonic Cherry Diet Coke, and the voice told me, "That will be one o
eight." It was happy hour, half-price time. I drove to the window, and
there was my man. He looked at me, looked at my money, and said,
"Just a minute." He punched something into the register, and said, "I
didn't know it was you. Forget about it." WooHoo! Nothing's better
than a Sonic Cherry Diet Coke unless it is a FREE Sonic Cherry Diet
Coke from the Sonic Hillbilly Mom Admirer! Seriously, I think he
knows a student from our school who is in my friend Mabel's class.
Anyhoooo...I loves me my FREE Sonic Cherry Diet Coke!

Do-Not Village

I told my teaching buddy, Mabel, that I was going to put a sign over
my classroom door. "Do-Not Village." That is because the students
DO NOT do anything. Well, that's not quite true. They do a lot of
squabbling, farting, talking, excuse-making, forgetting, annoying,
borrowing, whining, wasting, and opinion-spouting. But they DO NOT
do anything like hmmm...let's see...errrr...HOMEWORK!!!

DO NOT get me wrong. I like these kids. They are the kind I prefer
to "teach," not the preppy smart kids. I like them just fine if I am not
responsible for making them pass. But I have issues with some of
their behaviors. Once I've had them a couple of years, they get broken
in quite nicely. It's mostly the new ones who give me fits. They are
not bad, evil kids. They have not adapted to the ways of Hillbilly Mom.

I am particular about my stuff. I like things a certain way. They are
not picking up the cues. So here is a list of my peeves:

HILLBILLY MOM'S DO-NOT LIST

DO NOT...tell me your paper is in your locker, at home, already
turned in, in your other purse/pants, on your kitchen table, in another
book, in the dog's stomach, in the trash because your mom threw it
away, being copied by another student, not necessary because you
have a homework pass, too late to do now because the teacher
doesn't take late work, on your computer but your printer broke/
ran out of ink. I have heard it ALL before. I am not as stupid as
you'd like me to be.

DO NOT...come to class without pencil and/or paper. This is freakin'
SCHOOL! You might need those things occasionally. Like for doing
WORK. For which you get credit. Credits which add up so you can
GRADUATE. I have to buy these things that I am giving you so you
don't have an excuse for not doing work. I am Mrs.Hillbilly Mom,
NOT YOUR MOM!

DO NOT...wad up 5 tissues to blow your nose. One will be sufficient.
I also pay for the Puffs With Aloe. And especially do not toss them into
the air and snatch them like you are a world-class juggler. They are tissues.
Not toys. And do not complain if your glasses get smeared. Read the box.
They have l-o-t-i-o-n, people. That will leave a film on your glasses. We
also have paper towels in the closet. Use them. If you continue to abuse
the tissues, I will not buy anymore, and will force you to use a roll of the
school toilet paper, which is nigh to see-through in quality.

DO NOT...use the GermX for hair gel. You will go up in flames when
you light a cigarette later. And while we're at it, do not use the GermX
at all unless you get ink on your hands or you have just blown your nose
or coughed. Not to smell the fragrance, not to say "Ooo, it makes my
my hands so smoooooth," not as an excuse to get out of your seat, and
not because "Hey...free GermX!" I buy the GermX so I can clean off
your viruses after you come up to my desk hacking and sneezing and
touching my stapler and tape and eraser and calculators.

DO NOT...look at me like I am speaking Swahili after I explain where
to find an answer, give you three examples from real life, give up and
flat-out tell you the answer, and refrain from smacking you when you
ask, "But what do I put?" I am here to help you. Not do-it-for-you. Pay
attention, or don't bother to ask. Other people can make better use of
my time.

DO NOT...ask me how old you have to be to drop out. I am not going
to beg you to stay. It's like the skinny girl saying, "Oh...I'm so fat." She
just does it so others will give her attention by saying, "No, you're thin."
You have flat-out told me you're dropping out. Don't expect me to waste
time helping you if others need me. If you really want the help, then shut
up about your dropping-out fantasy. My time is valuable, believe it or not.
I have a better success rate helping people who want the help instead of
those who are fighting it.

DO NOT...brag about how much school you missed last year, or how
you started a food fight, or how nobody in your family ever graduated,
or how much you drank over the weekend, or how you're going to
kick somebody's a$$, or how you're planning a big party while your
parents are gone, or 'let it slip' that you smoke. What do you think I'm
going to say, "You're so cool?" No. I'm not. That stuff isn't cool. Tell
somebody who'll be impressed. Do not bring that attitude into my
classroom. I want to say, "You don't have to be such a loser."
But I won't.

Those are just the major DO NOTS. I'll do some minor ones later in
the year, when they are getting on my last nerve.

A Mining We Will Go

What do you think of this, Redneck Diva? Does it look scary enough
for you? Too bad, because there ain't no spooky tours. You can go
in the museum part, which is located around back, during the daytime.
Still, I think this old lead mine could be a gold mine at Halloween.
Take people on a night-time tour. OOOoooooOOOoo. Scared yet?

Judging by the looks of the place, this may not be a good idea. This
poor mine has been a Missouri State Historic Site for about 20 years
now. Have they fixed it up? Naawww. The museum tours used to be
free. You can see a couple pieces of the old equipment they used
underground. There are, of course, some minerals. Duh! It's called
the Mineral Museum. You can sit on some wooden pews and watch
a movie made in the 1950s of mining the lead and how they separated
it. Oh, the pews sit in the old shower room. Kind of cool.

This mine was operated by the St. Joe Lead Company. This is the county
that lead built. Both of my grandpas worked in the mines, and an uncle.
Much of the land people own was bought from the St. Joe Lead Company.
And most of the deeds read "surface rights only." One of my uncles bought
70 acres at a price of $60 per acre back in the 1960s. He used it to run a
Christmas tree farm, then sold the business to my cousin, and sold off the
land at $1000 per acre. Now, land in that area will bring $7500 per acre
if you sell it in 3-acre tracts. That now concludes our little lesson on land
speculating. And our bit of a history lesson. History is not my friend. I do
not like it and never have. Because all my history teachers were football
coaches. Boo hoo, poor me. This also concludes my pity party.

I really just liked that picture of the mine. I pulled over to the shoulder of
the road so #1 son could take it. Some stupid yahoo honked at us. Hey!
I signaled when I cut across two lanes in front of him. Sheesh! Who does
he think he is, the Redneck Miss Manners of Highway Etiquette? What's
the hurry, Bubba--gotta stop by the Wal-mart for some Sudafed to cook
up a batch of crystal meth? I will be the one to do the honking on the
highway, thank you very much, because, you see, it's all about ME!

********************************************************

I heard a commotion upstairs. Seems that #1 son went to get some water
and drug the pitcher forward without removing my lunch for tomorrow
from the shelf. So... my Redneck Tupperware aka a Country Crock
margarine container of leftover Hunan Chicken took a swan dive from
the top shelf and spilled its guts on the kitchen floor. Oh, the bad luck...
my Hillbilly Husband was the witness, and had to clean it up. I don't
think I will eat it, because I have a sneaking suspicion that he may have
scooped it back into the container out of spite.

I will leave you with your bonus Redneckism for the day. My Hillbilly
Mama told me she had enclosed a scavenged part of a computer for
#1 son in a vanilla envelope.

Lockdown, Shmockdown!

Well, the bad boy referenced in yesterday's post has not been caught.
Today was another lockdown day, but not of the double-secret variety.
The counselor came to tell me at the end of 1st hour. A fat lot of good
that did me, because even though I locked the door and closed it, I
forgot to close it after 2nd hour started. Thank goodness, Orange Coat
Girl asked, "Uh...Mrs.Hillbilly Mom....aren't we supposed to be on
lockdown?" Ooops!!!

And gosh darn the bad luck, a kid at another district in our county
took a gun to school, and shot it into the bathroom ceiling. So there
was some confusion as to why we were locked down, some people
on the outside thinking we had a gun-toter. Nope. Not us.

Today I did a little studying for the U.S.Constitution test, which is a
good thing in itself, but not so good because this kid studying it is a
senior, and customarily you take it your freshman year. But...you
can't graduate until you pass it. We have until May. I think we can
do it. I also did a little states & capitals, some polar molecule
properties, a bit of perimeter and area, some bar graphs and
line graphs, described simple machines in the students' own words,
and changed fractions to decimals the old-fashioned way--by long
division. Ho hum. I am getting kinda sleepy.

I learned that someone's locker got TPed, that someone's neighbor
sleeps with his butt in the window that is right by where she waits for
the bus, that someone's uncle's date took him to an underground skating
rink in the Festus area (where to his surprise, everyone was a devil-
worshipper, so he pretended to be, too), that someone's brother likes
to wear eyeliner and bras, and that when informed of such, two people
in the class will shout in unison: "What is he, a dragon queen?" Oh...
the sheltered existence that is the midwest.

I also checked over a few similes, my two favorites being 'As skinny
as a toothpick on a diet' and 'As ugly as a turtle without a shell.'
HooRah, 6th grade, you rock!

On the home front, we are in the midst of processing our loan to buy
the property usurped by the Land-Stealer. Funny thing, the Land-
Stealer seemed almost disappointed when my Hillbilly Husband told
him we would have things done by Friday. He hemmed and hawed,
and said, "So soon? Uh....we thought we might have a Halloween
Party over there. And, uh, you probably wouldn't want us to have
a party there after you bought it." Uh, that's right, Einstein. Now the
funny thing is, he wanted the money NOW, and then he wants a party
there. They freakin' live right across from us. And the land is right
beside us. Why do they want a party on vacant land when their
7 acres with a house is about, oh, 50 FEET AWAY!!! I do not
even pretend to understand these people. It must be the crystal meth
a-talkin'. So now we'll wait until HH gets back from Germany and
not rush the whole land aquisition thingy.

Tomorrow we have an early out for a teachers' inservice day. What
rumors will fly about that? Maybe the bad boy will be caught, and
the kids can roam the halls freely again. Tune in tomorrow.

Bad Boys, Bad Boys...

First cat out of the bag this morning, (It's an expression, people. I don't
put cats in bags.), my students tell me there has been a shooting. Not
at school, mind you. Over the weekend. What I am telling you is strictly
heresay from my students.

It seems that a former student had robbed a family twice, taking money
and a 4-wheeler. The family was pressing charges. According to one
of my students, the father of the family told the kid, "Next time you
come to rob us, I'm going to shoot you." So the kid broke into the
house and shot the mom and the dad. Whether for revenge or to do
unto them first is up for debate. Their kid was not home at the time.
Both victims survived, and identified the shooter. The police were
looking for him. Again, this is just heresay.

The point I am making is that one of my students mouthed off, "They
deserved to get shot." Oh, yeah. That went over really well. The word
'riot' comes to mind. The others shouted at him, "WHAT? HOW CAN
YOU SAY SOMETHING LIKE THAT?"

To which I joined in to keep the burning-rags-on-ends-of-sticks mob
from tearing him limb-from-limb, "What do you mean by that? How
did they deserve to be shot? What were they doing wrong? Can
you see now why you can't get along with anyone? That is a very
disturbing statement that you made. You need to watch what you
say. Think before you say something. How will it affect the people
you are saying it to?"

I don't think he got the message. He mumbled in his passive-agressive
low-talker way, but did not spout off to the class again. The angry
mob was pacified because I stepped in on their behalf. And speaking
of -halfs, 43% of this class has a relative in jail. And even they didn't
think it is OK to break into a family's house and shoot them, just
because they threatened to shoot you first.

Sooo...We were on lockdown because the perpetrator had not
been apprehended. Apparently, it was a double-secret lockdown,
because I did not hear a word of it. I found out when I could not
get into my second building except through the front door by the
office. At the start of 6th hour, a fellow teacher said, "Wait a
minute, you need to see this." I closed my classroom door with
my students inside and me in the hall. The teacher showed me a
picture of the alleged shooter. I opened the door and went into
my classroom. My students were staring at me open-mouthed.
"How'd you DO that?"

"Well, there's this newfangled invention called a door-handle,
and if you turn it, voila! The door opens and you may enter!"

"Nooo! The door was locked."

"Nooo! It wasn't."

"Well, it's supposed to be. We're on lockdown. Haven't you
heard what happened?"

"If it will make you feel safer, I will lock the door. Yes, I have
heard people talk about what happened. There's no need to
discuss it." So I locked the magical door-handle thingy, and
they were satisfied.

My own kids said they did not get to go outside all day for
recess, and nobody was allowed to enter or leave the building.

Ahh...behold the life that is Hillbilly Mom's. In other news, a middle
school student announced out of the blue, "My mom gave my brother
a thousand dollars because he graduated from high school." And
another little urchin asked, "Do we all get a thousand dollars when
we graduate?" Uh, honey, let's work on the 'graduate' part before
we count our thousand dollars before it is hatched, mmmmkay?

And that concludes our Redneck News for Monday, October 10.
Have a pleasant tomorrow.

Procrastinating 101

I am quite qualified to teach this class. I put things off. I always have.
I think that's a characteristic of Aquarians. I think. I'm going to look
it up one of these days.

Right now I should be laying out the boys' clothes for school tomorrow,
and packing part of the lunches, and doing a load of laundry. Nawww...
here I sit, blogging a post that I could have done earlier today. But I
didn't have a subject in mind. And I asked Hillbilly Husband to bring
me a Sonic Cherry Diet Coke when he went to buy some insulation
for his BARn and a tire for #1 son's car. Oh, he brought me a soda.
It was not my beloved Cherry Diet Coke. It was a Strawberry Diet
Coke, which was just plain nasty. It was all I could do to drink the
whole thing. That threw me off my schedule.

I spent part of the day reading an autobiography of Dolly Parton. Did
you know she is worth $110 million? She made $8 million from one
song alone: "I Will Always Love You," recorded by Whitney Houston.
Here's a little joke from the book that made me laugh out loud. Seems
that once Dolly got rich, she hired a decorator for her home. He put
in some Buddha statues. Dolly's mother came for a visit. Dolly had to
go somewhere, and when she came home, the Buddhas were on the
front lawn. Her mama said, "I won't have no child of mine worshipping
false idols." Dolly's husband, Carl, said, "Your mama's right. I'll just
put them in the barn." (They had every intention of bringing them back
once Mama left).

Dolly told Carl that they would humor her, because she was her mama,
and you have to honor you mother and father, it says so in the Bible.
She also told Carl that the groundhog foot her mama wore around her
neck on a little chain was as offensive to her as the Buddhas were to
Mama. She had mentioned it before, but Mama told her: "Your Daddy
killed this groundhog and I cooked it for supper. Daddy said it was the
best groundhog I ever cooked. We had such a good time later that
evening that I wear this to remember it by."

So Dolly went in to cook supper, and her mama was sitting at the table
watching when Carl came in. He was wearing a heavy chain with 2-inch
links that hung down to his knees. And at the bottom, with the chain
running in and out of the eye sockets, was the skull of a cow. Nobody
said anything about it. They ate supper and Carl wore it all night. It was
their private joke and a way to get to Mama.

But I digress. What was this post about? Ah, yes...procrastination. I
went through the boys' backpacks, and found a survey about school
climate. One for the parent, and one for the child. Like a 2nd grader
knows how to answer one of those. So I asked #2 son the questions
in his own language, and filled in his answers. I said, "Do the kids bring
weapons to school? You know, things that could hurt you, like guns
or knives...?" And #2 replied, "Well, Sydney brought that alligator
head with the teeth still in it!" I guess that was a "yes."

And that's all, folks. All I've got time for tonight. #1 son is hollering
for me to come sit with him while he falls asleep. Big baby. I will get
there in a minute...