The Player Says...

"You can't make no money at Save-a-Lot. The only people shopping there are those using food stamps." Where do I sign up? "Folks must be saving up for a bus ticket out of here, 'cause they only use stamps." This young man was on a regular roll this evening. He had a philosophy for everything. "If you've got it, it ain't no trick." The men can figure that one out. So can the ladies.

The "Player" says the reason he works two jobs is so that he can stay in any hotel he wants to because he wants to treat his ladies nice. "Even get a room at the Peabody, if I want to." Embassy Suites, in Jackson, has good sleeping beds, folks. "The mattress just wraps around you and the next thing you know, you are sound asleep." He missed going to the club in Jackson, the sleep was so good. Then he went on to talk about Continental Breakfasts. Don't bring him no bowl of cereal and a bagel and say it is a Continental Breakfast. He wants a warm, fresh omelet like they served in some hotel he stayed in. "That's a Continental Breakfast." "Room Service even brought liquor to the room. Course you can expect drop a ball twenty, easy. "Nothing but Jags and Benzes in the parking lot." A ball twenty, you say? I've really got to research room rates in this neck of the woods. Especially those for The Peabody. You know, the hotel where the ducks walk along the red carpet.

Now don't even believe that his cohorts took everything at face value. A lot of smack was being dished. But he stood his ground and held forth on everything. I was sorry I couldn't eavesdrop on the conversation longer but I had stock to put out. Let me tell you about "Player." All of 5 ft, 2 inches, if that. He is probably among the shortest of the males on staff. I look down on him. A little swagger. Braids (his own). Seems to be nice. But can he talk trash? Yes, he can. Haven't seen his ride. That should be interesting.

And I've got to tell you about another young man who, when he walks, sounds as though he is walking on gravel. You know, a grating sound. I have spent the last few weeks trying to figure out what kind of sneaks he has. Must be the latest thing. Well, hold on to your hat. It is not his sneaks making the noise. It is his teeth! He grinds his teeth! He won't have any left by the time he reaches middle-age. Wild!

Got another invitation to attend a church in the area. At this rate, I'll be able to attend a different church every Sunday. 'Cause this little city is loaded with churches, all denominations, all colors.

I was helping a lady locate a cheap or, if you will, inexpensive roasting pan for the stuffing she planned to make. From the size of the pan, I figured she was taking it to a meeting or church. Not. It was for Sunday dinner. Teasing, I asked if I was invited. "Sure, come any time. I love to cook." She's making peas, greens, stuffing, chocolate cake. Didn't hear about meat. Of course, I'm not going anywhere but the conversation led to the church invite and then a discussion on Serendipity. She grew up on Chickasaw, a block over, and has lived in Ripley all her life. Sisters relocated to Chicago but she likes Ripley. Her parents still live on Chickasaw. Assures me that I am in a good, safe neighborhood and did right by not buying on Highland. She said that her grandfather used to clean for Mrs. Savage and what a sharp dresser Mrs. Savage was. How beautiful the house used to be; the lawn had to be just so. She and her sisters always wanted to come inside. I told her that it would be some time before I was ready for company and when I got it the way I wanted it, I'd be sure to invite her. Seemed to be very nice and I look forward to attending her church, which is not in the country, and I can't get lost. She says the Men's Choir is awesome so I'm putting them on the calendar for the third Sunday.

Still no phone. NewWave didn't show as promised. The dryer? A tripped circuit breaker. Now, why would I think to check the breaker box--the dryer worked. For future reference, the starter switch works off of 120 volts; the heating element works off of 220 volts. If the breaker trips, you only get the 120 volts. Before you call the repairman, check the breaker box.

Signing off. The gray mare put in another hard evening.