Everyone Has Crazy Family
Hey Y’all! Well I spect everbudy njoyd the rain we got over the weakend, I kno Ole Earl’z garden shore did need a drank uv water an all my purdy flarz did tu. After all that thare rain we had durin the fall an winner yu’d a thunk we wudn’t never be wishin fer no more rain, but shore az twice tu’z eight we’z getting ta needin sum rain agen afore this las round uv rain. Coarse I knod better than ta thank it wuz a gonna rain lack that fer ever, cuz the preecher tolt us the Big Guy Upstairz promised not ta send a nuther flud ta de-stroy the hole werld. He sayd that’z why we see all the purdy rainbows whut’z in the sky after a rain. Hey I lernt just tuther day that thay’z sech a thang as a moonbow. I hadn’t never heerd tell uv no sech thang in all my put tagatherz, but shore az shootin it’z ret on that thare google thang on my computer. Yeah, that thare Wikerpedi gal sayd it’z a rainbow that’z cauzed by moonlite ruther than sunlite. Whooda thunk it. Enyhow, I spect everbudy will be goin ta see ye pappy this weakend cuz it’z Pappy’s Day…well on the TV thay call it Father’z Day, but I jest gotta say, bout the onliest folks that get calt “Father” is them jasperz whut wares thay collar turnt a round bakardz in the Catholic relijun. Funny thang bout that iz, them fellerz ain’t even got no youngunz a tall, so whoever started callin em Father musta be dippin in the sacramental wine er sumpthin lack at.
Dear Margie,
I’ve always thought my family was normal, because that’s what I was used to, and that everyone else was a little strange, but I recently I read a plaque that said, “If everyone you know seems strange, perhaps you are the one who is different.” It put me to thinking that maybe I’ve always had it backwards, what are your thoughts on that?
Sugar Britches, I kno jest whut ye meen. But leeme jest say that crazy don’t run in air famly, it freekin gallops. Les take my bruther Homer Jack. An whut I’ll say bout Homer Jack iz…well, som folkz don’t need alcohol ta make bad desizshons. That boyz a cooter bill ifn I ever seed wun. He’d clim a tree ta get inta truble ruther than stand on the ground ta stay outta truble. He’s seed the inside uv the county jail more timez than he’z seed the inside uv the church house. Az my Dear Ole Pappy usta say, “Thare in lies the truble.” An he’z dum tu. That boy’z sa dum he tried ta grow a burd by plantin burd seed in the back yard. Homer Jack is bad ta say, “Jest stick with me, I kan get ye on the nauty list sa fast it’ll make ye head spin.” And he’ll du it tu! Jest take my werd fer that. An my sister Flossie Ann iz jest bout as bad. That girl wudn’t kno a good man ifn he’z ta walk up an slap her on the rump. Coarse in all fairness, a good man shuldn’t be walkin up an slappin sumbudy on the rump, but yu get the point. She’z had mor husbandz that the law allowz, leestwize mor than the law orta allow. I tolt her thay wudn’t no use in gettin hitched up with ever feller whut lukt twice atter, but she sayd, “Thay’z no worser trag-a-dee than unrequited luv. Ever cents she’z a little bit uv a thang she tuk ta usin big werds and puttin on airs. Well, I fount out that ye kan’t tell sum folkz nuthin. Thay jest gotta figer it out fer thayself. Then thay’z my Gran Pappy Eddlesworth. Now I jest gotta say I don’t kno how he lived ta be az old az he did with all the stunts he pult. Why afore he died he’z sa old he farted dust. Onst he’z helpin put a new roof on the church and hiz job wuz ta even up the ends uv the rafterz on the rite side. Well, they tell me that he crawlt out thare on the end uv a long 2×4 an started sawin. He finely figered out that he didn’t need ta be a sittin on the end he’z cutting off, jest afore he hit the ground…ifn I’m a lyin I’m a dyin. Ye kno how sumtimes ye kan smack sumpthin an make it werk rite? Don’t ye wish ye cud do that with peeple? So leeme jest say this here, yer family ain’t got the market cornered on crazy, but thay’z family, so ye gotta luv em enyhow, crazy and all.
Dear Margie,
This new family moved into the house next door to me and I’m having a really hard time liking them. They are the sort of people who act like they feel that the world owes them something. Every day they come over to borrow something. It started out with a cup of sugar and has now escalated to power tools and even our riding lawnmower. The problem is that they don’t bring things back. My husband usually has to go over there and ask for it. The guy says, “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were needing it.” What is the best way to handle the situation?
Honey child, ye jest gotta learn that thay’z a little bitty werd in the English language. It’z, NO! An ifn that don’t werk, then ye get a little plainer and say, “NO WAY! Contrary ta poplar baleaf nobody owes yu enythang.” When thay start in with thair sad tale, lack I’m shore thay’ll do, then ye jest say, “I’m sorry, what language are yu a speakin? It sounds like bull crap ta me.” Then sister, ye jest close the door an leeve em standin thare with thair mouf open. Wun thank my Dear Old Pappy alwayz tolt me wuz, “Margie Girl, thay ain’t no skuse fer lazyness.” An boy howdy wuz he ever rite.
Well, I spect I better skedaddle. Y’all have a good ole Alabamer day and come on back next week, ye heer! Remember everyone has crazy family.