My Little Town

I was sitting here today thinking about what I could talk about next that would be entertaining. Then it hit me....my town. Of course, what could be more entertaining than telling everyone about where I live? Where do I even begin? Well.... it's a small rural town, nothing much in the form of excitement ever happens, most of us will die from boredom instead of old age. We do have some very colorful people that live here. Some have passed-away, and or relocated, the majority grace us with their presence on a daily basis. Our East End Park seems to be a draw for some, they consider the public water fountain to be their own personal water park. I swear it's true. On hot summer days you can see them congregating with their offspring, splashing and wading around in the fountain. This is a big family event. They sometimes even bring their lawn chairs and lunch. Some even bring refreshments wrapped in brown paper bags. As if we didn't know what was inside. (Wink..wink) And how did some of them get here you may ask??? Well...by shopping cart of course. They borrow shopping carts from the local grocery stores and use them as a source of transportation, not only for their groceries, bottle returns and laundry, be it clean or dirty, depending when you see them, but they also use them as baby carriages. Yes, it's true. Would I lie about such a thing? You can see our beloved citizens pushing store shopping carts all over town with their kids and personal belongings inside of them. Why buy a baby carriage or a car when a shopping cart will do. Shopping carts are multi-functional in my little town, they serve so many purposes. And best of all, they're free for the taking, well...until a policeman pulls you over for stealing. But it's not really stealing, it's borrowing long-term until you get caught."

There is a label for these folks who do the odd activities that I just mentioned. They are called "Raggies." I'll get into that definition and how it all came about shortly. Along with looking less than desirable next to the rest of the citizens who live here, most don't work and are on welfare, pop-out children like they were human Pez dispensers, and have little or no teeth in their heads. Some even have appliances on their front or back porches, and for sheer ambiance, they even have them strategically placed on their front yards. Nothing says Better Homes And Gardens than seeing a washing machine that no longer works sitting on ones porch. And what could be even better than a matched pair of non-working appliances? Junk cars!! They are a wonderful addition to the appliance collection, it's a must have for any home owner seriously going for the "Scrappy Chic" look. To be a honest to goodness Raggie, you also have to be fluent in curse words. The word F*ck seems to be a favorite among all Raggies young and old. It just seems to meld with an array of other words that they may be using at the time of conversation, it flows like a fine wine, or in their case, a cheap bottle of Mad Dog 20-20. ie,. "I had a f*cking fight with the f*cking a$$holes down at the f*cking welfare office this f*cking morning. F*cking p*ssed me off. F*ck!" See how well it marries with everything listed in the book of Webster? (Dictionary for those slow on the draw) ;)

Many Raggies share in a friendly game of "Who's Your Daddy?" The game starts with a female of any age sleeping with Tom, Dick or Harry, or all three, and then becomes pregnant. Upon becoming pregnant comes the daunting task of guessing who the sperm donor was. "Hell if I know!!" is commonly heard. Next there's the art of throwing a dart into the phone book for a name. After all...you need a last name. Could this be your daddy? The name is then used on the birth certificate of the child that will now be on welfare for the next eighteen years that you and I as Joe Tax Payer gets to rejoice in supporting. This works out wonderfully for the new mother. I work my ass off for 40-plus hours a week, while they sit on theirs, shopping with food stamps, receiving free health and dental care, and living high on public assistance. All of these benefits are handed out freely because they popped-out a child that they couldn't financially support on their own. Many have tribes. One child is a mistake, two....well...you aren't the brightest crayon in the box, but three? No way!! Lock you knees shut, and join the rest of the moral majority that are working to support our families. I hate to even call out sick due to all of those on welfare counting on me to work every day, so they don't have to. I have raised four children along with my husband. If we can work every damn day, so should they. Am I not right?

Okay. I promised the definition of "Raggie" so here it is. And you can also view more colorful descriptions on Urban Dictionary.com. Or even do a Google search if you are bored. Quote: "A term that is used, almost exclusively by residents of Northwestern Connecticut, in a derogatory fashion. 2. A name once given to the workers of charcoal pits on Mt. Riga, located in Salisbury,CT, to label those who were of a poor working class ( mostly Dutch immigrants ). The ash and soot from the charcoal burning pits would force these workers to tie handkerchiefs or "rags" to their faces in order to filter the acrid air. The term "raggies" refers to their use of these rags. "Raggies would often come down from the mountain , for lunch, to eat in downtown Salisbury". AKA: "Lazy white trash that do not contribute to society. Expecting everything that they receive to be handed to them with out working for it." I could get into naming and giving personal descriptions of some of these Raggie's but many are searching out easy money, and I won't give them the satisfaction of suing me for liable, slander, and defamation of character. Oh...they are characters alright.

Many Raggies have their own way of decorating. The tradition of hanging draperies, curtains or blinds are a "Fashion faux Pas" for a Raggie. Raggies tend to use bedding for window treatments. ie,...sheets, blankets or pillow cases, and on the rare occasion that one is feeling patriotic, they hang an American Flag in their windows. Some drop the window down, put the blanket, sheet, etc,. over the top of the window, and then pull it up and then close it shut. Thus you can see the bedding not only from the inside of the window, but on the outside as well. Ingenious! You get two looks in one. Oh..I could go on forever, but why bother? Because it's fun, that's why. LOL! I think I have given you all a pretty good visual of what a Raggie is. If I have missed something in the description, by all means please add in your own two cents. I am off for now, some of us actually have to go to bed early to get up for jobs. What a concept. A job pays your bills so you don't have to be on public assistance. Brilliant!!

I came home from work and started to make lunch, while lunch was cooking,I had checked our kids' bedrooms to see if they had been cleaned like I have begged for weeks for them to do. Two of the four still live home. Daughter number three is 19-yrs old, she makes hoarding and being unorganized look like an Olympic Event. If being a slob could bring home the gold, our girl would be a champion. This girl saves everything and anything. She would save a fart if she could. Her room looks like an atomic bomb has gone off, and this is after she has cleaned!! I get so aggravated with her,I now just keep the door shut. I can swear I hear things scuffling around under her bed. It must be the dust bunnies, and since she hasn't truly cleaned like I would clean, I have seen them morph into the size of Dobermans. It's pretty scary when you have to call your doctor to make sure that your tetanus shot is up-to-date before attempting to enter that pit that she calls "A Bedroom." I walk tall and usually carry a big stick or whatever I can find with substance that is lying on her floor. I never enter without having something in hand for my own safety and well being. Her room looks nothing like the rest of the house. I have never seen a kid procrastinate at being a procrastinator before. To look at her, she doesn't have a hair out of place, no wrinkles to her clothes, she is so clean, she squeaks. But her room tells another story.

And then there's our 15-yr old son, child number four, he's our last. After all, four is enough. I am not a breeder and being pregnant is not a sport. I had such great hopes for him. I thought if I praised him for cleaning his room, and keeping his toys picked up when he was little, that the cleaning gene I had inherited, would then be passed on down to him. Wrong!! Some how everything took a turn in the wrong direction once he became a teenager. The once quiet and reserved son that I bragged about, has now turned into one of those kids that you wish you had duct tape for. If it weren't for that mouth of his, he'd be as close to an angel as a parent could hope for. Now don't get me wrong, all of my kids are good kids. None of them have caused hubby or myself any real grief. They tend to like to wind me up a little bit. If I say it's red, they will say it's blue, just to get a reaction out of me. But all in all...we are pretty lucky. Every night I ask our son, "Did you take your dirty clothes downstairs to the laundry room?" Reply: "I will." The next morning after he leaves for school, there is the laundry, sitting there strewn around his room like a wild bachelor party just occurred. Clothes everywhere. I can't decipher what's clean and what's dirty. Hubby says to smell them. Hell no! These were worn by a 15-yr old boy who is a jock. Jocks do not smell pretty after a practice or a game. When you see fumes permeating off of a pile of clothes, that is your warning to put on your goggles and pick them up with gloves and handled with extreme care. These items should now be considered as hazardous material, at least until they hit the washing machine, and then onto the dryer.

Hello, and welcome to my Blog Spot. Admittedly.... I haven't a clue at what I am doing, so just bear with me until I do. ;) Do you ever have those days were peace and serenity calls out your name, but instead, it's your kids and husband bellowing it out in soprano? Are there days were you wished that you could just sit and read a magazine with a cup of coffee or tea without being disturbed umpteen times for silly things? These are the days where I can almost see myself sitting in solitary confinement, while having the comforts of wearing a "Hug Me Jacket." AKA: "The Straight Jacket." I prefer mine in lavender because, pastels are soothing colors. I dream of saying; "Please Doctor, no visitors for me today, and keep those Happy Pills coming my way." LOL! Just kidding...just kidding. Or am I? Things that make me say: "Hmmmmm."

I am sure many of you are just like me in so many ways. You're a wife, a mother, a grand mother, you work a full-time job, you cook, clean, go shopping, do laundry, run the kids here-there-and-everywhere, and take care of a houseful of animals, and somewhere in between, you find a very small amount of time set aside just for yourself. Usually for me, it's a whole 5-minutes in the bathroom, just before someone knocks and asks if I'm busy? WHAT! (Sigh!) I always tell my family that I am going into the bathroom, and ask if they need anything first? The standard reply is that they don't. Well low and behold, as soon as my fat arse hits the bubbles in the tub, there's a faint knocking, which usually makes my eyes roll back into my head and I can swear I can hear myself thinking aloud, "What do they want from me now that they couldn't ask of me 5-minutes ago?" That knock appears again...and again until I answer. The questions are usually the same. ie,.."Can I go to my friend's house? When will you be out? What's for breakfast, lunch or dinner?, depending on the time of day it is. Are you almost done?, I have to go." Now mind you, we have two bathrooms. So why do they need to pester me now, and at this moment of "Me Time?" One time I got so annoyed, I told them to go outside behind a tree. LOL! I figured they'll get a little bit of fresh air and experience nature instead of being cooped-up indoors, in a small room with 4-walls, a tub, a sink and a toilet. It would almost be like camping, but in the Burbs with neighbors on each side of us. Hugs & Love, Linda :)