Fatitudes, Little Green Spacemen and Vegetable Buns

In one of those cruel twists of life I’ve been gaining some weight. According to a doctor that I quit seeing because I didn’t like what he said, I might quit breathing in my sleep and die. That doesn’t really concern me. What concerns me is I am going to have to buy larger clothes and that is giving me an attitude. We’ll call it a fatitude.

Considering the options my only choice is losing weight. Since Sunday I have been eating better and more importantly eating smaller. My bride Management just informed me I will have to eat more vegetables to stay healthy. Just between us (please don’t tell her) that doesn’t make any sense.

The stories in this column are true. Averett lives a dull life in rural Southside Virginia with his wife Management, two children and a rotating assortment of goats, dogs, cats, snakes and other local fauna.

Just because I am eating less why would I need more vegetables? I usually eat a vegetable once a week or so (usually by accident) and have been fine. Why would I need more veggies if I am eating less meat bread and potatoes? In fact, the percentage of veggies is larger than it was. Still, since it is important the keep the bride happy, I can eat another serving of veggies a week if I need to.

Yesterday I either saved or killed a little magnolia tree. The magnolia has been growing beside the railroad for ten years. Every few years they cut it down and on the other years they have sprayed it with industrial strength green thing killer. That stuff kills anything green. In fact if we are ever invaded by little green spacemen I have the solution. That little magnolia just turns a little yellow, shakes it off and carries on.

I’ve gotten attached to the little guy. (The magnolia, not the little green spacemen. They quit showing up years ago when I quit showing up in some of the places I was showing up.) You just have to admire its fortitude and never-give-up attitude.

Yesterday as they were driving by with a backhoe I got them to snatch him up for me. He is now planted in the yard. I hope he makes it. It would be sort of ironic if he dies from being saved. That’s something a government would do.

Then I had to stand in front of Oren (my fire truck) for a picture with the minions. As usual I was told to smile. It’s like this. If I smile I mean it. I never learned to just paste one on. I can’t and don’t want to learn how to smile on command. If you see my teeth I’m really smiling or I’m getting ready to bite you. Sometimes both. That’s it unless maybe you work in the dentist’s office.

Let’s face it. My neutral expression is, well, sort of neutral. The reason I look like a dumb country boy is that I AM a dumb country boy.

Two days into this silly diet and I’m already in a dilemma. By the way I just found out last year that a dilemma isn’t a foreign sports car or a country boy with a chainsaw.

So, here I am in a dilemma. I am sitting here trying to write while staring at Betty’s Buns. Now keep in mind I can type with two grand-brats, three phones ringing, four angry customers and five———-other——-things. I should write a song.

Betty’s hot buns are hard to ignore. They are spectacular- just the right amount of sugar, cinnamon and butter. She just delivered them. I’d like to say it wasn’t my fault but I did order them.

The problem is Betty’s buns are now on Management’s list of things I can admire but can’t touch.

Way back in 1600 Pope Clement VIII issued a papal decree approving coffee as a beverage after some folks tried to have it banned as evil. I like to think he did that just for me.

I wonder if I can find a pope who will decree Betty’s buns to be a vegetable.