Free Reflections On A Middle-Aged Fat Woman by Gianetta Palmer

while more than one unit is running either, because that will result in flipping the breaker, which is a bad thing.
    The breaker box is in the basement which wouldn't be a bad thing if you didn't have to go outside, down the steps, move the pole that holds the two basement doors closed, grope your way through numerous cobwebs, try not to step on the big toad that lives there, work your way past the riding mower that won't budge and hold your breath because of the worm farm that Janie Bell kept down there back in the 50s.
    (It's a really old house and Janie Bell was one of the characters that used to live here over fifty years ago.)
    All of this results in taking certain liberties within my own home. Namely, I like to air dry myself when I get out of the shower. Since there is no air conditioning in the bathroom I usually go into the kitchen and stand in front of that unit—which is right beside the door—and which also has another window with a curtain but no shade.
    The shade on the door is usually open; I like to look outside and watch the seens. Recently, I had an unexpected visitor, the UPS man. He and I have become friendly this past year. He had complimented me several times on my mini greenhouses that I raised over a hundred tomato plants from seed in since March of this year that I then took and sold at the flea market.
    He usually backs the truck down the driveway because there isn't anywhere to turn around out back. I usually hear the truck because they are pretty loud. I don't know if it was the radio blasting, or the window unit roaring, or I just had my head up my ass because I heard a knock at the door and then everything seemed to go in slow motion.
    I jumped, looked through the shade on the door, saw him, screamed and crossed my arms across my chest.
    Brown's eyes shot straight up, he stumbled backward nearly losing his balance and dumped my packages on the chair outside. "Nothing to sign," he said. "Have a nice day."
    I didn't move because I was too mortified to budge. I had just flashed the UPS guy. Goodness, with my luck, the Jehovah Witnesses will be pulling in next. After the shock wore off, the worry set in: What was his reaction? Will it make things weird between us? Maybe, I do need to wear a housecoat?
    Later in the evening I was sitting out on the porch when I was surprised to see another UPS truck pull into the driveway. Yep, it was him and he had a package in his hand. Oh crap, what am I going to say to this guy?
    Before I could say anything this is what he said: "In all of the excitement this morning, I forgot this one, and by the way, nice package."

 
    Where Do Boogers Come From? — July 31, 2010
     
    You know they say kids say the darnedest things and after what happened at the grocery store today I'm gonna have to agree with them.
    I was at Krogritz for my weekly visit and ended up following a young mother and son through the store. He was a cutie and kept asking all sorts of questions: Why are carrots orange? Why do onions make you cry? Why can't I have a bag of Doritos? Why can't I have Lucky Charms? Where does a hotdog come from? What is a sanitary napkin? Why are you saying so many bad words when you see how much it costs? Can I get a few grapes to snack on? Can I ride in the buggy? When are we leaving?
    And on. And on. And on.
    I'll have to hand it to the young mother; she kept her cool and answered every question without looking up from her shopping list. Most of the answers were either "No" or "I'll tell you later" and the child seemed satisfied and moved on to the next question.
    We had made our way through the store and were in the last aisle where the alcohol is displayed. Standing by the beer was a very large man in bib overalls that had been made into shorts, wearing black socks and orange Crocs. He wasn't wearing a shirt under the bibs and the sides were left unsnapped. He had a very big nose and his left index finger was shoved up in it so far that I'm sure it was touching his