Fixing The Leaves

A leaf fixing to leave

At dance class last night, in between shaking our middle-aged moneymakers, a gal in pink, a gal raised in Southern Cali, suddenly turned alarmingly Southern-ish while regaling us with the Tale of Her Injured Elbow. The Boo Boo Elbow in question was hidden beneath a fetching pink sweater that matched her pink jazz shoes, but we took her at her word, even though the words tumbled out in a highly confusing manner:
Pinky: "So we were fixing to leave when -- "
SJG: "You were fixing the leaves?"
Pinky: "We were fixing -- "
SJG: "You were on a ladder? No wonder you got hurt."
Pinky: "I wasn't on a ladder."
SJG: "Good. Ladders are dangerous. Go on."
Pinky: "We were fixing to leave..."
SJG: "Fixing the leaves on the Christmas Tree? So you could hang ornaments?"
Tall Shiksa Goddess: "For Christ's sake, Carol, let her tell the story."
SJG: "She is telling the story. It's about fixing the leaves."
Pinky: "There are no leaves in this story."
SJG: "You said you were fixing the freakin' leaves."
Pinky: "I said, 'We were fixing to leave.' "
SJG: "Fixing to leave... oh, wait, as in going out?"
Pinky: "Yes."
SJG: "Why don't you just say, 'We were going out'?"
Pinky: "I spent a lot of time on in South Carolina on my last job."
SJG: "But  you're not in South Carolina. You're in Sherman Oaks at the moment."
Pink: "I know."
SJG: "Is your elbow okay?"
Pinky: "No, it hurts."
SJG: "Then next time you go out, just leave, don't fix anything, and you'll get out alive."