Today was Designated Hugging Day in Hillmomba. Newmentia facility, to be precise. The day my teaching buddy, Mabel, and I exchange gifts. Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is not a hugger, my friends. Her philosophy on nonfamilial shows of affection is this: Neither a hugger nor a huggee be. But once a year, she humors her bestest friend, Mabel.
Because we live in Hillmomba, Mabel and I deal in livestock. We exchange cows and horses. Cow Parade cows and Painted Pony horses. Ms. Mabel has even gone to the ends of the Earth in past years to procure just the proper pony. Or at least sent her representative to the Dixie Stampede, for a very special Dolly Parton pony that was not available at any other venue. That's because Mabel is generous like that. And we all know how much HM loves the esteemed Dolly Parton.
Also part of the exchange were tasty treats. Homemade candy for HM, including Oreo balls and chocolate-dipped cherry delights, and peppermint bark. Of course Mabel was a recipient of Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's World-Famous Chex Mix. Four barrels of it. We will both be foundering ourselves forthwith. Well, I can't really speak for Mabel. She exhibits more self-restraint. Did you know she still has Chex Mix left from her birthday in November? But then again, she has been known to let PEEPS age several weeks before eating them. That is just wrong. They don't last a day around the Mansion.
I had a close call at a bookish event in the city a few weeks ago. Such a hugfest I had never seen. I was lucky to escape with my nerves intact and my lid unflipped. My stack unblown. Never having hit the roof. Apparently, city folk have never heard of Designated Hugging Day!
With the end drawing near (of the year 2012, silly, NOT the end of the world as we know it tomorrow), I can safely declare another Designated Hugging Day in the books for posterity. And relax for 364 days.
For the record, I restrained myself at the Book House. I did NOT hug you, since I sensed you had stretched your "public" muscles as much as you could and were straining to get back to the safety of your countryside mansion.
ReplyDelete(I'm not too much of a hugger either, except with my immediate family...)
Sioux,
ReplyDeleteThat shall be duly noted on your permanent record card.
I am a hugger, all touchy, feely. However, should you ever grace the kampground with your presence ..... I promise to restrain myself. No guarantees for he who loves to hug, though!
ReplyDeleteKathy,
ReplyDeleteMaybe your He Who could hug my Farmer H. He's a proponent of the embrace as well.