Little Big Mom

Since her recent retirement, Mrs. Hillbilly Mom has nothing better to do than roam the countryside looking for trouble, her mouth itching to write checks her ample buttocks can't cash. She's like a female rabble-rousing Johnny Appleseed, sowing ill will throughout Hillmomba.

Take today, for instance...

For two months now, signs have been in place by the oft-flooded low water bridge to prevent parking along the side of the road. The county road department even plowed in a big ditch, but whether the purpose was for water drainage or parking difficulty is a moot point. The law now says DON'T PARK HERE. There used to be people there all the time. Or just cars, with no people in sight. Who knows what was going on? Sometimes fishing off the bridge, making it difficult for cars to speed across pass. Sometimes swimming. Sometimes dumping old couches and chairs. Perhaps illicit trysts. Or drug deals. Which, the last time I checked (not that I'm in the market for purchase or sale) was illegal.

Anyhoo...signs were put up, and a ditch was dug.

People can still break the law by straddling that ditch with their tires. I literally chortled with glee one day to see a car hung up in the mud there after scoffing the law. The fact remains, however, that people are NOT supposed to park there.

ANY TIME! Get it?

So this morning I went through around 10:00, and there was an old lady with a buzz cut sitting on the bridge on an upturned white ten gallon plastic bucket, fishing. Over by the NO PARKING zones were a truck and a car. Parked. The white pickup was directly in front of that NO PARKING sign, facing toward the creek. I swear that its mirror had to hit the sign as it parked. It was that close. The dark blue sedan was facing up the hill. I turned to look as I went by, wondering how one lady could drive two vehicles. Or if there was more going on than I first imagined.

THERE WAS A WOMAN SITTING IN THE PASSENGER SEAT OF THE SEDAN!

Oh, well. I had my sunglasses on. I'm sure I was unrecognizable, throwing up my hands as it were, gesticulating wildly to convey "WTF! The signs say NO PARKING!"

I headed on to town on my everyday mission to procure a 44 oz Diet Coke. And I hatched a plan to snag a photo to put on my blog. A truck parked directly in front of a NO PARKING sign! That's never been done before, right? But matters were complicated by the presence of The Gatekeeper.

What was going on there? Was it a daughter who came along with her mom on a fishing trip? To make sure no ne'er-do-wells, like, perhaps, someone who would park right under a NO PARKING sign, would harm her? If so, then who put the truck there? Did the old woman drive the truck, and the daughter the car? If so, then why was the daughter sitting on the passenger side of the sedan? And had the old woman been ill, perhaps, resulting in the very short buzz cut? Was this on her bucket list, sitting on a bucket and fishing from a shallow creek? Or was she a woman who prefers women (not that there's anything wrong with that), who prefers a manly cut of her tresses? Too many questions for as-yet-uncaffeinated Mrs. HM.

On the way back, I was thwarted by a tractor in the middle of the county road, trying to go where no road went before, to some land that had been raped by the Rockers. Then a speeder ran up on T-Hoe's rear bumper. So I pulled off at the entrance to the sheep farm (the dog was minding the flock yesterday, but no sheep were seen today) to let it pass, and put my hand-me-down cell phone into camera mode. Mrs. HM was loaded for bear! She was going to get her picture of the scofflaw! From the side, to show the sign. No identifying license number. I waited for a school bus to pass. What kind of crazy route is that, a school bus out on the county road at 10:50 a.m.?

The thought of The Gatekeeper was weakening my resolve. What if The Gatekeeper hollered at me while I was taking the picture? I had my phone ready. It shouldn't take but a second. I could stop at the side of the road where a 20-something man asked if I needed help while I was taking the original sign pictures. If The Gatekeeper dared question me, I had a smarta$$ answer all ready, "I'm just taking a funny picture for social media. I'M not breaking any laws!" Heh, heh. That should put her in her place. After all, I live out here! Where did SHE come from, anyway?

I pulled back onto the road and proceeded over hill and dale along the dusty trail. I was afraid The Fisher would be gone. Nothing to see there. But as I crested the hill that drops to the creek, the one where I have the last chance to turn around if I see that it's flooded, I saw The Fisher, still perched upon her bucket.

AND THE GATEKEEPER WAS STANDING BESIDE THE SEDAN, TALKING ON HER CELL PHONE!!!

No way was I going to stop and snap a picture! Not with that gal out of the sedan. No siree, Bob! Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is not about confrontations. So now I'm mad as not-heaven, and I'm going to take it again and again.

There's no need to order more checks for my mouth...but my butt needs to get a check-cashing card.

Oh, yeah. And upon further scrutiny as I drove across the low water bridge...that woman sitting on the bucket was a man, baby!