Amerchina or Chinamerica

Like a Phoenix rising from the ashes, my year of silence has been broken by a discovery just made. It's Veterans Day and to thank our vets, we got some American flag ribbon pins that say thank you. Now that's nice enough and Lord knows we need to do more to show our appreciation. SO I'm looking the pin over and in closer observation of the pin, I noticed writing on the back. Since it was small print and my arms aren't long enough to focus, I grabbed my trusty magnifier to read what was written. Well Lawdy Miss Claudy...there it was stamped on the back ...IN ENGLISH...Made in China. @#%*%@. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for free enterprise and everything that's for the good a mankind and all that stuff, but give me a sign Tom Dooley...ain't there and American Company that can make American Flag lapel pins? Does the President and Congress and the Senate members pins that are worn so proudly on their lapels read Made in China on the back? Am I the only one that gets @%*%^@ off about this?
That's all I'm going to say about that but if you want to walk across the street to The Depot Lodge and tell me what you think, then go for it. You'll know me...I'm the little ole lady with the handmade in Paint Bank flag pinned to her shirt and the CD of Springsteen blarring out across these Purple Mountain's Majesty "Born in the USA"...hey MAO...whatcha gonna do about it!!!

I'm going to the dogs and don't give a bark!

I know I'm preaching to the choir when I say that everybody loves their dog...buuut...I absolutely adore my Jack Russell Aggie and I don't care who knows it. This dog is extraordinary...even though she is a food slut. No matter how groady, smelly, putrid or gross it is, if it ain't nailed down she'll swallow it. So true to form Aggie consumed; god knows what; and just returned from the Doggy Hospital having survived a severe case of garbage gut. Now this is no laughing matter, not when it's a midnight emergency trip down "hell ride holler" with a dog that is projecting from both ends the most unrecognizable fowl-smelling stuff known to earth. Now that you've got the jest of my Labor Day adventure and I have ruined the thought of food to you for one year, I want to tell you that that was just the beginning. That night, they ex-rayed to make sure she hadn't swallowed a jack-hammer, hooked my little baby up to I. V.'s and locked her in a cage, and sent her mommy and daddy home without her. We left her in the place (a very nice Veterinary Hospital mind you) not alone, but as Aggie later screamed at me...with every damned cat in the state staring, meowing and taunting her. What I explained to her is that , after a considerable expenditure, we did pick her up just 3 days later in much better shape than when she was admitted. Nothing, mind you, I mean NOTHING will console that dog. That precious little love of my life has turned into a sulking, moping, vindictive bitch dog, devoid of any of the love she had shown me for two prior years and with a sense of cunning far better developed than when she just held her ball between her paws while lying on her back. But I stood the higher ground and pledged my love once again to her and proceeded to dispense the 2 small tablets that she must take twice a day. I cooked the boneless chicken breast, chopped finely and mixed with jasmine rice so the "little lovely" could eat small meals that would correct her internal problems. I pulled out the two tiny little bitty easily swallowed pills and held her sweet little face in my hand and started to pop them gently in her mouth when a vibration from the bowls of the earth ran up her body and this precious mouth started snapping at the speed of light with a Tasmanian devil exorcist sound shrewing out between each snap of those vampire teeth. "Sweet Mother of Pearl", my little angel, what had transposed her into this "Hound of the Baskervilles". Nonetheless, I HAD to get those pills down her! Plan A...
stick the little biddy pills right in the middle of the gourmet chicken meal, she hadn't eaten for 4 days and is starving, she'd never detect it. Sure enough, she dove into that food like it was pure
dog ambrosia...licked the bottom out and then with no hesitation, flipped the pills out the side of her mouth. Well, I'm mildly amused but desperately needing to crash and get this pill thing done. Plan B.. I try the disguise thing again, only this time in a tiny piece of bread coated with peanut butter. It would work...it was her favorite...she would suck that down. Think again oh wise human being....outsmarted once more by this precious thing who by now had a curious smile on her little face with a look of knowing she had won this battle. Well maybe so, my lovely,
but if I weren't so tired it would be "on sucka". To bed for a chance to rest this old body and a night of plotting and reassuring myself that I AM the higher species. Plan C emerges around 4:30AM. I was approaching it just a little backwards. It is all about body language and how you
execute the plan. So I would go about my pre-Aggie-illness normal morning routine, the one we were in when she was not jaded and was trusting. So I warmed it, bowled it, cooked mine and got my coffee and sat down at the kitchen table and commenced to eat while she watched. Acting (with my body language) very unassuming as she started begging for MY breakfast.... I casually leaned over with the pill-stuffed morsel and popped it in her little mouth which she immediately swallowed whole. V-I-C-T-O-R-Y!!!! I had won! What a plan! Who's your Mama now? I had won...what had I won? What had I accomplished? What a freakin' piece of nano poop I am. Taking advantage of that little precious thing who by now had realized what she had swallowed and was desperately trying to bring it back up but couldn't. And those eyes...the sad eyes of an angel who had come to know her mommy for what she really is. A conniving ole biddy who had lied, once again, to the light of the world. And in the end... SHE had really won. She had managed to make me regret everything I had done and every word I had said and bad thought I had thought about her. She was victorious for my guilt as the higher species will plague me for weeks to come while every day she enjoys half my breakfast...half my coffee(which she loves) and anything else her little heart desires. and I will do whatever penance she chooses.
So come on over the mountain to Paint Bank to The Swinging Bridge Restaurant have a good guilt free meal and then walk across the street to The Depot Lodge to say Hey...I'll say Hey back at 'cha. You'll know me...I'm the tear-stained little woman with the shock collar around my neck, walking back and forth on the front porch with a hand held sign that reads..."DOGS RULE...MOMMY'S A FOOL" on the front and on the back it reads....
"HOW TO MAST WEALTH THRU INHERITANCE AND TAIL WAGGING"...GO TO
http://www.aggiesway .com

Java Jumble hope you crumble

At my age it doesn't take much to make me happy. I use to be high maintenence but now just the fact that I'm still breathing when I wake up in the morning is a plus. But there's one thing that I require and will always require and that's my morning coffee...Java juice, elixer of life, nectar of the Gods, Go jo, you get the picture. Unlike me, my old coffee pot died and so I bought another simple drip machine...you know, the one with the two names and preceeded to fill it with the good smelling brown miracle dust and water. Cut that sucker on and stood there let the extasy surround me when that aroma fills my head with all things on earth that are good. Put a little sugaa and cream in my same cup that I've been drinking out of for 17 years and proceeded to pour that black liquid gold via that every morning route straight into my cup. Well OMG, no sooner than I had started pouring, it started dribbling all over the counter top and running down on my bare feet. What the What!! Upon opening my eyes and glancing down at the pot, I noticed a strange thing...a squared off spout. Sweet Mother of Pearl. What kind of stupid, life robbing piece of no good nanew dirt would invent a square spout. What was he thinking(a woman would never do that). Didn't somebody say to him "John, brew up some of that good java you make and let's toast your new design, and when they poured the feakin coffee they'd have seen the BIG DESIGN FLAW running all over that burled maple board table and someone would have fired John's butt and his wife would have divorced him and his kids disowned him and he'd be homeless and he' would have gotten what he deserved. But NOOOO, nobody tested it...they just manufactured it, boxed it, shipped it to a store near you and thousands of people bought the sucker(I know I'm not the only one). What's more, I know there's a bunch of you with coffee stained toes, too that are just dying to take a whack at this bozo . So tell you what, come to The Swinging Bridge Restaurant...have a cup of coffee from a regular , correct-pouring coffee pot and discuss the fact that it must be another terrorist plot to slowly torture Americans and get our proverbial goat. And while you're there, walk across the street to The Depot Lodge and say hey...I'll say Hey back at cha. You'll know me... I'm the little ole woman with brown toes, an Uzi strapped to her back and a shirt on that reads "Revenge is the perfect way to start the morning"!

I snow not what I do

I'm not going to complain about the snow...I'm better than that but I will just make one simple statement...it's sucks...I'm done with it. So to save my sanity, I've decided to move on to the Spring Thing. The visions are much more calming and bring a sense of hope to the cockles of my frozen heart. What the hey are cockles anyway???You know what didn't make sense 200 years ago, still doesn't. But you get where I'm coming from. Anywho...thinking about Spring (it arrives in 49 days)
I'm anticipating what we're gonna do in Paint Bank. First of all...we got a Bar-B-Q
house opening with the neatest smoker you've ever seen. Lots of mouth watering things are gonna be added like bar-b-q beef and buffalo briskets...pulled pork bar-b-q and barbecued ribs and chickens. Wipe the drool of you lips and envision all the produce coming from our own garden...fresh maters and taters..green beans,corn and squash....all sorts of goodies...grown and prepared right 'chere.
Next envision a warm sunny day in the back yard of "The Bridge", with all the yard games to play and picnicking by the creek and the ole timey artisans making their crafts and Bluegrass music wafting through the air. My lord..It don't git no better than that. It's just around the corner so till we get there...come set by our great big fireplace and have a cup of homemade hot chocolate of homemade mulled cider and dream along with us. While you're in PAint Bank...walk across the street to the lodge and say hey...I'll say hey back at ya. You'll know me, I'm the little ole lady in polka-dot bikini and goose bumps the size of golf balls. The doctor says they're gonna have to be surgically removed...wonder if insurance will cover that?

CHEW ON THIS..Oh Snap!

If I owned a chewing gum company, I would have NEVER fallen into the lousy marketing pit that today's "gummers" have done. Let's talk about it...there's too many brands in the first place, and what the hey is up with those flat packs. Guess they think we're so stupid that we couldn't tell the difference...folks, there's the same amount of gum in the old packs as there is in the flat skinny more expensive packs. It wasn't too many years ago...I mean in this decade...that you could get a 25 cent pack of Beechnut, Blackjack, Big Red, Juicy fruit, Clove and a few others. All you had to do was zip the top off and pull out a piece. Now, you have to have a schematic and a pair of needle nose pliers to get a piece out. I want a non-complicated recognizable pack of gum that has my favorite familiar taste that takes me back to my kinder gentler world...that will give me a taste the lasts and a gum that will snap loud enough to be heard in church. It's not even real gum anymore...another gold star for the chemical companies. It's some Frankenstein crap that probably has hallucinogenics and other addictive stuff in it to make us buy more instead of relying on just real good stuff.
Now, I'm going to segway into a commercial...but it's from the heart, so it's not really a commercial. We, the family at Paint Bank, are committed to take everything we can back to basics. We are already growing and butchering locally our own Buffalo and Beef...no recalls here folks. Last year we began purchasing our produce from this valley and this year we're doing the same plus growing a lot of our own. It's a great situation and Oh mama...the taste is the best. Look for greater and grander things this year cause Paint Bank knows what you like and we love you... smooch smooch kiss hug and stuff.
Walk across the street from the general store and say "Hey"...I'll say Hey back at 'cha..you'll know me, I'm the one with the double bubble bubble popped on her face and hair. Hey if you're gonna do it...do it right.
about REAL

A Sandra Day Day at Paint Bank

If you ever doubted that Paint Bank is the epicenter of all that's glorious and skirts the light fantastic with such gusto that even the media can't keep up with it...then you're in for a rude awakening. Just Friday last, "The Supreme People"rolled into Paint Bank....I mean really SUPREME...the first woman ever appointed to the Supreme Court, Sandra Day O'Connor,(of course you knew that) and close friends, graced us with her presence. The "Lady Day" was absolutely charming and everything you'd expect her to be and more. She toured with the accompanimentof our "BossMam, who is obviously connected in high places, and didn't miss a square inch of the retail, Mill, Farm and Restaurant...even walked across the swinging bridge. Her lunch pick of our newly introduced "Great White Buffalo" sandwich and hand cut deep-fried onion strings was a befitting choice of "The Supreme" for America's original red meat our great Tatonka (word for Buffalo in Native American). After a nice visit with patrons and employees, she made time to have a picture taken with a young female admirer which I'm sure made it's way around her classroom. What a nice day in Paint Bank (pun intended) Here's to you Ms.O'Connor for proving our belief that great people are put in high places for good reason. Court's adjourned!

Ride "Boss Potts" Contest

If you're "Cool" or just kool...and you've put on your "screamin' mimmie" hat and taken the plunge across Potts Mountain then you are a candidate for immortilization and lot's of great prizes. I started riding a motocycle in my Golden years...Autumn of my life...freakin' over 60 Aarp time of my life.....WHAT A RUSH!!! My initiation for the first ride I ever made...ever sat a sissy seat, was on Boss Potts, at 60 miles an hour now less. It took me 2 days 3 hours and 42 minutes to come back down to earth. That's right...I'm bad...and I know...you probably do it all the time coming to the Swinging Bridge to eat, but you can't tell me that it doesn't take you up two octives when you finally come down off that last turn to the valley at Paint Bank. Well, I feel like you need a metal, certification of complition, a trophy...or how about being FAMOUS.

All you have to do is put a name on the ride and you will become immortalized on the back of our "I survived Highway #311" tee-shirt. The ride will be immortalized in a patch...the tee-shirt and an annual ride week. .. plus you'll get great prizes. If you drove it...you can name it. Name it whatever you desire...."The Zipper"...or maybe"Rattle snake Run"....come up with your own. Your can send your name in on our e-mail...or fill out an entry form at Paint Bank...GOOD LUCK!...Drawing will be OCTOBER FIRST.