Wednesday, December 28, 2011

“Get down, dog. Stop that!” exclaimed Housekeeper as she tried to divest herself from the dogs attention.

“Gee, Housekeeper, if I jump all over you, will I get my ears scratched?” I asked.

“I’ll kick your ass.” she said.

Well, what can I say. She’d just arrived and at seven thirty in the AM I suppose an over joyful dog that slobbers isn’t the best thing to greet one.

We did discuss this, that and the other thing over the course of her work however. I brought up Christmas and asked how hers was and she admitted she’d had a lousy one.

So why lousy? and how lousy.

It appeared in one direct complaint – that being she’d not gotten her ‘Green’ frying pan. That, not having heard of it tickled my fancy.

It seems there’s a line of cookware with green ceramic as liners. She’d ordered three pans, two with the TV advertisement pricing and one she’d purchased apart from the special. She said she wanted to go “Green.”

After looking up the basic description of Teflon and Ceramic, I started ribbing her about being foolish “Green” and she got all defensive, claiming she’d simply wanted the pans for the coating.

Well. Okay.

The talk drifted to the neighbors down her way – they’re the one’s with the mistreated goat. She indicated the three girls were all over during the weekend and would probably would spend some time with her this week as the kids were out of school the entire week.

Now, in case you don’t remember, the girls are part of a family living directly behind Housekeeper and her husband. Housekeeper’s husband built a bridge across a gully so the three girls could come and visit as they would. The family’s visit and are close – except over the past year.

The wife across the gully started forming a relationship with one of the Wind Farmer employees and moved in with the guy.

The kids knew about the affair before the husband, because the wife invited the paramour over during the day while hubby was at work ninety miles away. The kids weren’t too happy with the going-ons but didn’t tell their father.

The local bartender told the father, suggesting to him he might look around because his wife was rubbing upon that dude in public in the bar.

Well, sir. Sure enough, the wife moved out and in with the employee and the husband has the kids and no wife, just that goat.

So being still married and the youngest of the three girls is a product of the husband and the wife, there just had to be a “Family” dinner for Christmas. The wife brought the paramour, of course.

The husband went over to Housekeepers place and got to drinking with Housekeepers husband. The guy said he’d had to get away from the Wind Farm guy before he killed him.

Housekeeper grinned at me just a little, and said the girls, one at a time, had made an excuse to leave the mother wife and had come over to Housekeepers home. Housekeeper isn’t a forgiving type person in these kinds of events Malicious even.

She did mention, also, that there is at least two preggers girls from the Wind Farm bunch. One around seventeen and one in her early twenties. Housekeeper says they’ll not leave the area with the fathers, and the fathers will not be staying. Pisses her off, she says, those girls will probably be having those babies and us (the tax payers) paying for the raising of them.

photoshare Bitton Railway Station Bitton United Kingdom Rosemarie 


From the reaches,

Ten Mile

About tenwhiskey

User tenwhiskey is also the author of this blog. He currently lives in small town Kansas in a semi-retired condition. His kids are married and gone (thank you). An empty nester. Divorced. Very happy with life as it is. Ten Mile maintains a personal blog here, writing of events as they appear to him; commentary, and opinions abound. He deviates into fiction as the mood strikes and creates flash fiction stories and short stories. He will not warn the reader when he drifts from fact to fiction. He feels adults are, generally, smart enough to figure out which is which. He does, however, attempt to make his fiction sound as true to life as possible. You have been warned. He, as time permits, writes and occasionally sells writing. More often than not he gives it away to various non-paying publishers of Ether Magazines, forums or for entertainment on a wall for in need of a hand friends. He likes candy, pies and a certain amount of strife. In the matter of strife - in his yourth on the farm, he became embroiled in a slinging fight. The fight involved lath as a launcher, fresh cow patties as ammo and it was a six way free for all. A little mud only adds (Umm?) a certain taste to life.
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