skunk dawg 

Cathy at Domestic Psychology is the hostess with the mostest this week......... March Volunteer Tailgate Party for the Rocky Top Brigade y'all.

No April Fool's Jokes here girl :)

Since I am ALL about learning new things, I did a bit of internet research today to find out how to solve my current dilemma. There are conflicting views out there on how to accomplish the task at hand, but this one made sense to me knowing the chemical properties of the ingredients. So, with no further ado, I offer this tutorial.

How to De-skunk a Labrador Retriever

1. Mix together 1 quart of hydrogen peroxide, 1/4 cup of baking soda, and a few squirts of liquid soap.

2. Grab unsuspecting dog by the collar and drag to the chain which has been previously placed around the porch post.

3. Turn hose onto dog and watch her sprint the length of the chain. Follow dog with hose until chain is completely wrapped around your legs.

4. Time out. Turn hose off! Gently unwrap chain from around legs and other body parts. Bandage bleeding areas.

5. Pour peroxide mixture all over dog and let it soak for 3 minutes. Right.
( Note: save some to pour again when dog shakes it all off )

6. Repeat as needed per shaking.

7. Grab dog by collar to avoid chain burns and rinse with hose while repeatedly saying "sit." Right.

6. Curse while trying to remove chain from pissed off dog. Repeat.

7. Remove beer from refrigerator and enjoy while dog rolls in grass.


Disclaimer: The posting of this tutorial in no way reflects any expertise in the area of de-skunking a lab. Results may vary.

Delightfully tacky....yet refined. Who would NOT be proud to be a Hooter's girl? My first visit was a couple of years ago on vacation at the beach. Expecting to see packs of guys groping and whooping it up, imagine my surprise when I saw mostly tourist types like myself. And families. Tables full of kids and their parents. It was just like O'Charley's with boobs and cheap tights.

If I don't get some beach soon, I'm gonna be a blithering idiot. I'll gladly eat viennas and crackers when as I can bury my toes in the sand and wake up to the dunes. The food at Huddle House is much cheaper and more comforting than the place with the coolest T-shirt. As long as the company is good.

Always a player, I'm passing this on from Michael .

Too much information? You decide :)

Accent: Southern drawl, y'all
Bra size: 42C
Chore I hate: washing dishes
Dad’s name: Billy G
Essential make-up: Moisturizer
Favorite perfume: Burberry
Gold or Silver: Silver
Hometown:Dyersburg
Interesting fact: Once rode a 4 wheeler topless
Job title: Medical Technologist
Kids: 20 yr old daughter
Living arrangements: Old farmhouse in the middle of paradise.
Mom’s Birthplace: Dyer county TN
Number of apples eaten in last week: zero
Overnight hospital stays: a few, nothing major
Phobia: snakes.SsSs
Question you ask yourself a lot: WTF?
Religious affiliation: Methodist
Siblings: two younger brothers
Time I wake up: Depends on what time I have to be there!
Unnatural hair color: blonde with gray invaders. Natural hair color is: brown with gray invaders
Vegetable I refuse to eat: Brussel Sprouts *yuck*
Worst habit: Cigs
Xrays: Yearly mammo
Yummy food I make: Chicken dishes and pastas
Zodiac sign: Virgo

If you’ve read this far you have to do this, too!

asparagus season 

Unlike that sexy boy named LBB, I'm not gonna go off on Blogger about their tiny server. I mean...hey. It's free right? Beggars can't be choosers. Besides, it's kinda cool to see posts you thought were lost in cyberspace materialize out of thin air the next day. Or week!

It still beats the USPS. A friend told me today that he just received a card that I mailed to him in August of last year :) Glad it was just a friendly greeting and not a big fat check or a marriage proposal.

****************************************

It's open season on asparagus around here. From now til the first week of May I'll be picking it twice a day to keep up with those sprouting spears. I mostly give it away to friends because one can only eat so much asparagus before turning green at the thought of it. The farm where I live had a huge FIELD of asparagus across the road from my house years ago. The picture above is of folks at the packing shed, circa 1918 or so. That's a lot of asparagus casserole!

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Last but not least, today is TUESDAY which means Phyllis and I get to watch House. We are soooooooo easy to please.

^j^

Enough about how to die. The people who love me are all in agreement about what I want when the time comes. If the itinerary changes, they trust me enough to listen to the proposed amendments and vote accordingly.

These days, I'm more focused on what makes me alive. You know....the things that bring me joy.

I need to feel the sand between my bare toes and wake up to the sounds of surf. There's some primal part of me that aches for that.

This time of year is heaven for a flower child. All at once I get to see daffodils, hyacinth, forsythia, hawthorne, bradford pear, spring magnolia, and the wildscape waking up to a new season.

I'd be a mighty cool grandma, I think. I'd like to experience that while I'm young enough to enjoy it. I'll have to let go of Babygirl for that to happen. I can do that when the time is right.

The other half of my soul is out there somewhere. I hope to find it. I feel bits and pieces of me being filled in day by day through family and friends. My trust in the Big Guy has kept me cautiously single during a very vulnerable time and will reward me for being patient.

I'm nuts for sunrises and sunsets and the whole thing in between. Foolishly optimistic about this day and the next and what might happen when I believe in miracles.

Faith. ^j^

Today passed quickly for a Monday, even for one that started prematurely. Babygirl decided to bless herself with Momma's intestinal upsets last night following a bedtime snack of pizza. Not pretty.

Things progressed toward crisis about 3AM with tears and dry heaves. *Note* Queensize bed is not near large enough for two grown women, two dogs and two cats.

Thanks to Phenegran and D5, all is well once again. Except for the baby dawg's crippled leg. Dunno what the hell happened there, but she's adapting nicely and moving faster minus one leg than I do with both of mine.

Y'all leave a message at the beep. Poopie is pooped. ^j^

To brighten your Monday, The Longevity Game . Mine fluctuated between an expected longevity of 76 to 81 depending on how I wear my seatbelt and how I handle stress!

remember when? 

While passing a rainy cold Easter Sunday afternoon with a movie on, I suddenly heard a song that transported me 35 years back. The tune is "White Bird" by It's a Beautiful Day. That put me on a fast track back to the late 60's where my young hippie self enjoyed the music of the masters. Jefferson Airplane, Spirit, Moody Blues, Blind Faith, Allman Brothers and on and on.

Were we cool or what? My foray into the counterculture was somewhat limited due to my young age, but I still remember it fondly. I think that the activism of the 60's shaped who I am as an adult in a very good way. I learned to question the status quo and raise hell when I see injustice. On the flip side, I learned to reserve judgement on most anything else in a live and let live hippie kinda way.

My straight laced conservative parents let me fumble my way through it. I remember my Mom taking a bunch of us to Memphis to see Led Zeppelin one time. I wore my Dad's wool Air Force overcoat and no shoes as I slipped out of the car and into the Colliseum...the only place for big concerts back then. I'd have given my right hand to be at Woodstock, but instead I listened to the album over and over again with my eyes closed reliving it in my mind. I made the trek to Overton Park Shell to see Trapeze and others. And I visited Highland Strip as often as I could to peek into the head shops and people watch. Long hair was the bomb and tie dye clothes with beads were the thing to wear.

I really don't have a clue who reads this blog. But I'm wondering........does this stuff ring a bell with anybody?

Peace and love y'all. ^j^

The Farmer's Daughter... 

The Farmers 

Like most guys named Bubba, my brother is one of those that everybody knows. He's got a day job as a supervisor at a local industry, but at night he's either working at the liquor store or running his nightclub. Plus helping my Daddy with the farm.

Last year he wrote a letter to compalain about something or other to the John Deere Company, and before he knew it they were wining and dining him as part of a focus group/advisory board working on the prototype for the new 5025 Series tractor. He took several trips at their expense to give input on the design.

When the time came to get ready for the marketing blitz, their folks hit up the ones they'd wined and dined to be real live photo-op subjects on the new tractor. SOOOOO....in August, during the hottest part of West Tennessee weather, the crew arrived here on the farm to do the shoot. They were here for 3 or 4 days and it was all very secretive...like tractor spies might be around to see the new model before it was introduced! The project manager came from Georgia, the photographer from St.Louis, videographer from Memphis, other team members from Kansas and Iowa.

Did I mention that Bubba has THREE jobs? Well, most of the shots were made close to sundown because of the lighting. Poor Bubba found himself sweatin' on a tractor every late afternoon as payback. The funniest day of all was the day that I modeled on the tractor in the barn lot..by the cow pond...with sweat drippin'....while the cows gathered as if on cue around the hay ring that had been placed there for the shot. The photographer had his ladder perched right on the edge of that cow-pond and I kept waiting for him to tumble into the muck! Instead, my choco lab Faith picked that opportunity to take her very first dip ever and came back to get in the shot with Momma. No dogs allowed. Only cows :)

Just a little background on this glorious shot of the "Farmer's Daughter".

^j^

The memory is burned into my brain forever. Sitting on the front porch steps bawling my eyes out, I watched BabyGirl drive a car out of MY driveway away from MY life into the big old unknown that MYself couldn't control. Of course she was in her Grandma's car with 100K miles on it, but still. She rode for several years with an angel pin on the dash..a family gift passed from my Aunt Nancy to me after Jimbo's death and then onto Lauren and her future.

You see, as a Mom that was the scariest day of my life. I had spent 16 years of hard labor lovingly caring for this kid and now I had to cut her loose. With faith that she'd be okay, because I would've gone nuts otherwise.

Remembering Jimbo and who he was to me and his family, I think that was probably giving him some heavenly joy. He's just that way. You gotta know him. I think about him a lot, still. Every time I hear "A Mighty Fortress is our God" or a snazzy show tune on the football field. When I drive into Newbern in October I'm reminded of the reds and golds of that season when he was dying and I was making house calls to check his hematocrit and platelet count. Every time I even SEE a fruit cake, it's a Godsey revenge thing.

He taught me to let go too, just like BabyGirl and all of the other folks whom I've loved and let go of because I had to....because that's what you do when you truly love and have faith.

I've often asked myself if it might be safer and less painful to just not care. Maybe you don't get hurt that way....or not as much. Watching The Schindlers, I've decided that finding the spot where one cares enough to let go in love is the most difficult place of all to be. But I am also convinced that real love.....true love, finds the strength to do that in spite of the pain.

Just thinkin'.

^j^

Do THIS in remembrance of me.....

Doctors Without Borders

America's Blood Centers

National Center on Adult Literacy

Dept HHS Organ Donation

Kairos Prison Ministry

seasonal body painting 

There's this family owned grocery store on my way home that sells all the staples plus beer so it's my daily stop'n shop. It's located next to a rent-by-the-week motel with crackheads galore so nothing much is unusual in those parts....robbery, shoplifting. The cashier staff consists of the owners plus one very nice lady and her mother. Usually one or more of the kids is hanging around the front hauling your sacks for tips.

The other day, me and the chubby 10 year old boy spotted something at the same time while his mom was checking me out. "It's a MONKEY!" he cried out. Yeah right..scribble on the check. Behind me in line was a biker dude fella explaining to the rest of the crowd that Nico the monkey only cost them 4700 bucks. Hmm. There was a damn monkey crawling around the cab of that old Ford pickup with a large tan tatooed woman inside.

After I put my stuff in the car, I strolled over to meet Nico. He was sitting in his Momma's lap just waiting for an audience. "What's his name?" "Nico". "Hey little buddy...shake my hand." Nico took my hand straight toward his mouth and his little monkey teeth. "UNH uh..." I said. He crawled over the lady to the other side of the cab all stretched out to show off the NASCAR t-shirt he was wearing. Shortly he came back over to try again. I stuck my hand out and touched his hand ( I swear his little hand looked like a PEOPLE hand ) and we bonded. Then, straight to the mouth again.

I wasn't really in the mood to get monkey bit, so I said my good-byes and piled into the car wondering to myself: "Do I look like monkey food, or are they all like that?"

Speaking of monkeys, check our the Snark Sisters' take on Donatella. A little snark is always good for the soul in times of such serious earth shattering crises as we have going on now.

Y'all keep the faith. ^j^

Wake up at 3AM one day throwing up your toenails and poopin' pure water.
Repeat X 2 days.
Sigh relief upon intake of solid food once again.

Put on a happy face now that it's over. Umm..well. Okay, you're weak. But not barfing.
Work a couple of days with a scratchy throat and the blahs.

Two scheduled days off feeling progressively worse.

Back to work! That evening, the first chills and fever hit.
Repeat X 4 evenings with two days of work and two days of sleep.

Back to work! part II. ( and here's the catch y'all )
Vow to purchase a thermometer so that said high temperature can be appropriately recorded for posterity. 3.95 plus tax

Go home and wait for the shakin' to begin. It doesn't. *sigh* Thank you Big Guy.

Just by the Mommy on the face test, I figure it was about 110 at one point. Buying that thermometer did the trick though! Much cheaper than Tamiflu.

^j^

Watch dogs... 

Catnap.. 

This year, on my birthday in September, I will reach the BIG five O. That's right...50. Never mind that I still believe in Santa and still want my Mommy when I'm sick. Forget the fact that I have nothing for retirement and no spouse ( not even a boyfriend!) Ignore my childish sense of humor and playfulness. Someone who is about to be 50 years old should act like a grown up, right? Well, I've got six months to work on it, okay?

My friend Bonez sent this little list today which reminded me that no matter what, I'd never go back. Not to 25 or 30 or 40 something. The only way I'd go back, is if I could be the "baby" again. But then, I can be the baby right now if I wanna.

**************************************

As I grow in age, I value women who are over 50 most of all. Here are just a few reasons why:

A woman over 50 will not lay next to you in bed and ask, "What are you thinking?" She doesn't care what you think.

If a woman over 50 doesn't want to watch the game, she doesn't sit around whining about it. She does something she wants to do. And, it's usually something more interesting.

A woman over 50 knows herself well enough to be assured in who she is, what she is, what she wants and from whomever.
Few women past the age of 50 give a damn what you might think about her or what she's doing.

Women over 50 are dignified. They seldom have a screaming match with you at the opera or in the middle of an expensive restaurant. Of course, if you deserve it, they won't hesitate to shoot you, if they think they can get away with it.

Older women are generous with praise, often undeserved. They know what it's like to be unappreciated.

A woman over 50 has the self-assurance to introduce you to her women friends. A younger woman with a man will often ignore even her best friend because she doesn't trust the guy with other women. Women over 50 couldn't care less if you're attracted to her friends because she knows her friends won't betray her.

Women get psychic as they age. You never have to confess your sins to a woman over 50. They always know.

A woman over 50 looks good wearing bright red lipstick. This is not true of younger women or drag queens.

Once you get past a wrinkle or two, a woman over 50 is far sexier than her younger counterpart.

Older women are forthright and honest. They'll tell you right off if you are a jerk if you are acting like one! You don't ever have to wonder where you stand with her.

Yes, we praise women over 50 for a multitude of reasons.
Unfortunately, it's not reciprocal. For every stunning, smart, well-coiffed hot woman of 50+, there is a bald, paunchy relic in yellow pants making a fool of himself with some 18-year-old waitress.

And besides, soon I can join the Red Hats :)

this one's for dayna... 

back yard barn.... 

It's only the second day of spring and the skies are already churning to bring in tornado season. That explains farmer Joey out there disking up the field in the near dark. It's a farmer's game...to try to beat the rain. Kinda like playin' poker with your land. From now 'til June is like a big manic episode for farmers and their related occupations...fertilizer, heavy equipment and pre-emergents.

A couple of years ago, I lived through one that came a tad bit too close. That experience gave me a healthy respect for the power of a storm.

So, on my first day to feel like a human in a week, I did what struck my fancy:

Slept 'til I woke up

Went to the library

Did some bizness

Fired a pissed off email at my home state senator, FRIST

Read blogs to my heart's content

Kept the faith, and one eye on the weather radar :)

Today was the day when all the kids paved the way for Jesus to enter the city by waving their palm branches. The Saviour! He has arrived. So much celebration and joy. Who could imagine that during the span of a few short days, His followers would not only abandon Him but betray Him with their words and deeds. He spent so much loving time with them teaching them through parables and miracles. He loved them more than He loved himself. Yet when push came to shove with the difficult decisions, they forgot everything they had learned and looked out for their own self interests and narrow views. Perhaps they were planning the next election as well.

I have always been attracted to the paradoxical angry side of Jesus that came out very rarely...but when it did, WATCH OUT. He rarely let it to, in spite of all the aggravations, except in circumstances where the name of God was being used for profit or gain, like with the money changers in the Temple. Now That's my Guy right there. A normally peace loving patient live-and-let-live type who can really let go when somebody's being mistreated.

The Jesus that died for ME on the cross is not happy with things,folks. It has nothing to do with what judge makes what decision or which state's senators or congressmen voted how. To me, it seems to be all about the growing paranoia of the Christian conservatives and their insistence on their way being declared the ONLY way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anyone who's ever been to Sunday School can tell you that "Jesus wept" is the shortest verse in the Bible. Many a Vacation Bible school has started with the memorization of that short verse and the recitation of many more by week's end. As I look around our world today, I see lots of things that make Jesus weep.

Jesus wept....when Jessica Lunsford was raped and killed.

Jesus wept....every time some "pro-life" right winger bombed an abortion clinic and killed someone.

Jesus wept.....each and every time an evangelical ripped off the elderly or poor searching for miracles.

Jesus wept.....each time one of 1500 plus service men and women gave their life for a war that nobody wanted ( except the ones with something to gain )

Jesus wept......when he saw His child Terri Schiavo being manhandled by Congress and the press as an "example" of what is "right".

Jesus wept ....when the have a lots spent their money on SUVs and botox while inner city children starved and were homeless.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here's hoping that you truly experience the entirety of Holy Week before you get to Easter.

Y'all keep the faith. ^j^

Still fightin' the beast here in Poopieland...almost a week later. The two days of enteric excitement turned into the whole schmeer with chills and fever and upper respiratory infection. HOWEVER:

I'm just stubborn enough that I took my happy butt outside after work today and got those pansies planted. So there. AcHoOOo!

Remind me this fall not to bother with a flu shot.

bradford pear 

Lucky me! I attended the most lovely dinner party this evening and I just had to share the details. My adoring guests gathered around the dishwasher as I stood and ate gas station chicken. The cats can be ignored but not those pupppies! Faith the choco lab and Butterbean the rat terrier stood at attention waiting for THEIR course.

I don't like the tater logs much, so I chopped them up and divvied them out.
One for You....and one for YOU. One for you....

Oh well, you get the idea. Anybody with pets in the house knows the feeling of having to eat standing up to keep the kids 'offa your dinner.

I seriously need to get a life. ^j^

pansies 

This makes me so terribly sad. Not because at this minute in time the way has been cleared ONCE AGAIN for heroic measures to be discontinued, but because her parents are willing to cart her "persistently vegetative" state all the way to Washington as an exhibit to a meddling Congress.
Hell hath no fury like self righteousness on a mission.


Rep. Henry Waxman of California, senior Democrat on the Government Reform Committee, called the subpoenas a "flagrant abuse of power" and amounted to Congress dictating the medical care Terri Schiavo should receive.
"Congress is turning the Schiavo family's personal tragedy into a national political farce," Waxman said.

I do not proclaim to know what is the right thing to do in this case. I learned long ago that just as soon as you say "I would..." you're faced with a comparable decision that is never as easy or crystal clear as you would have thought.

I do know, however, that if somebody who claimed to love me hauled me to Washington and showed me off to Congress like they want to do, I'd haunt 'em forever.

My prayer for Terri is not for a specific outcome to this circus. It is for some kind of peace for her tortured soul that might be brought about if her case became less of a legal fight and more of a moral and ethical decision making process with HER well being at the center.

^j^

Awash in Red Ink

Straight from Yahoo to Drudge to me to you.

Psst....c'mere. I have a confession to make, and I hope that you'll hear me out. I have failed someone very near and dear to me and I need to confess before I start to make things right. She understands, of course. Because she's been there with me through the whole thing, but I owe her an apology just the same.

I'm sorry, Janie. Sorry that I allowed you to live your life the "no waves" way and the "caretaker" way. Many others have benefitted from those characteristics of yours, but you yourself have mostly suffered for them. You were raised during an era in which women sought to be all things to all people and good at everything after decades of limited options. It's understandable that you got your priorities mixed up and landed in a heap.

I apologize for allowing your heart to be an open book for all to read and scribble on haphazardly. You are so tenderhearted and gentle that your pain shows easily and so does your love. You had to give yourself away time after time to realize that your value lies in celebrating who you are and honoring yourself. Pampering yourself. Doing what you enjoy instead of always what is expected of you.

The pain that you have felt during the hard times was me reminding you of who you are. I know...it's hard to believe that, but it's true. During those long months of therapy when you cried your grief away each and every day, it was me who was trying to get out of the cocoon and become a butterfly. The real Janie. When the money problems almost took you down, that was simply a cue for you to face reality and deal with it. Nothing more. When the pressures of work became too much, it was me telling you to go home and forget it until tomorrow. The job will always be there. Sunsets won't.

The worst is behind you, hon. You have dug your way through 3 years of assorted post-divorce angst and come out smiling. Kinder. Less judgemental. MUCH humbler. And, finally you know who you are. Remember? In your first of a jillion therapy visits, you drew pictures of what you like. There was a musical note ...water....flowers....wow, I wish you'd saved it. It might be good to look at that drawing today, 18 years later.

Instead, why don't you just accept my sincere apologies and make a wish list for the next few days of nice weather?

Proud of 'ya babe. Keep the faith. ^j^

My first love was around the age of 13 or so. He was a gentle soul named Fetch who played drums and ended up God-knows-how in rural TN from Chicago. I was his groupie for a couple of nights until my lack of mobility ruined that gig. My first real "car date" was with him and whoever was driving to that place they played that night. Adventure! His long wavy haired self gifted me with a beautiful red satin jewelry box for Christmas.

About that time I got my first job. I was a lifeguard at the pool behind the local Moose Lodge. That job lasted me all the way through my high school summers. I learned how to handle bratty kids, cook a mean burger and play Spades like a motha' at 50 cents an hour.

Those half dollars added up until I could afford my first car. The folks paid half and I did the other half. They scouted and found me an "only driven to church on Sunday by a Grandma" 67 Plymouth with air and an automatic. I was in heaven until one night, I had my first taste of reality that led to my SECOND car.

I was at a party at somebody's house where the parents were gone and the kids were gathering. An "acquaintance" asked me if he could borrow my car to go to the store. Next thing I knew, my precious car was totalled in a ditch and the Sheriff was asking my parents what to do with that GALLON of whiskey in the back seat. And, uh...oh yeah. He picked up a girl too and she's in the Emergency Room with a split wide open head. My wise Dad stopped by the salvage yard after picking me up so I could weep amongst the shattered glass in the back seat.

Short version? Insurance company cancelled me immediately. "Acquaintance's" Dad was a body shop man so I got a 65 Chevy auto in the floor with no muffler and bondo all around. I whined until I got paint and a muffler to pimp me through the rest of high school and my lifeguard days.

Along the way there was first sex with a fellow who was second love which turned into college and first major heartbreak when it was over. Second love, that is.

*********************************************

I lost count after that. Life just turned into one thing after another and VOILA....here I am. Middle aged and single with a kick-ass daughter and a so so job. I always remember who I am, though.

*********************************************

Y'all keep the faith. ^j^

Babygirl and BF 

It's been a tough coupla days around here for me and Babygirl. First I got the flu, then she hurt her foot...like BAD. I bounced outta bed this morning feeling like i was cured ( when in fact, that feeling was just an absence of nausea for right then ) only to find 2 hours into the day that indeed the stuff does take a couple of days to run its' course.

We were trudging home from the orthopedic doc's office late this afternoon, in the RAIN, and I stopped to let this go-to-hell gorgeous luxury sports car make a turn in front of me and my leased Toyota. Just southern courtesy. As the vanity plates appeared in the back view, we both knew at the same instant whose car it was. "If I'd have known it was her, I wouldn't have been so nice", was my remark.

"Oh Mom...those little things come back around to you sometime or another."

Not that I expect anything, but...is it sometime yet?

^j^

Yep..it's a Monday. All the way around. I think one of the worst things about being single is being alone when you're sick, and BOY have I been sick. Being the typical trooper that I am who keeps going like the Eveready bunny, even when sick ( like most women and ALL moms ) it takes a lot to bring me to my knees.

The nasty old stomach bug that hit at 3am today did just that. To my knees, y'all. Multiple times. Then...well, I'll spare the details. Let's just say that the name Poopie fit me just right. The logisitics of this type of dilemma will stymie even the sharpest tool in the shed in the middle of the night with no help around.

But I made it and I'm fine. Well, kinda. Well...I WILL be fine :)

And so will Babygirl. OH yeah..Did I mention that while I was struggling to raise my head up, her BF called and said she'd had a fall and couldn't feel her TOES. I told him she was all his for the day. And bring me one of those pain pills. Cuz my whole BODY hurts. Especially my hair.

The family that suffers together.........

Boy do I feel sorry for this poor guy . I guess it just wasn't his time to go.

The scariest stories in today's news, to me, are the ones of people who just lose it and go "postal" on innocent folks. These are the ones who sit around and nurse their grudges until they turn into a full blown killing rampage. Like the guy who shot the Chicago judge's husband and Mom. And eventually himself. Like the guy in Atlanta. Like the one who walked into the church and mowed down the members.

This type of crazy has a death wish, and like a terrorist, wants to take others down with him as some sort of salve to his tortured psyche. I live in a small rural town so there's not much crime here except for the usual drug busts, DUIs and domestic disputes. That's why I was so stunned when a life was taken right out the front door of my church while I was sitting in the choir loft.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was several years ago but I remember it like it was yesterday. As I walked out of the church to go to my car which was parked next to the adjacent service station, I noticed crime scene tape surrounding the parking lot of the station. Hmm...Odd I thought. Someone must have broken in. By the time I got home 15 minutes later I learned that local law enforcement was looking for a man who had fatally knifed the service station owner right there in the bay and left him there to bleed to death.

Mr. Patterson had been a kind enough soul that he answered this fellow's call, on a Sunday morning no less, for help with a car that was down. Unbeknownst to him, the man had been on a killing spree that crossed 3 states and ended in ours. He had begun in Oklahoma a few days earlier and ended up with a broken down car in West Tennessee.

In the split second that followed when the station owner discovered that the man's credit card was stolen, his life was taken. In the middle of his beloved business. With hymns being sung next door.

He was eventually caught about 45 miles from here and is being tried in all 3 states on murder charges. Who knows, maybe he'll finally get the death he so desperately seemed to want.

It still haunts me to this day to think of that station owner laying there dead as I went to get my car. Was he still warm? Did his family know? Every time I drive by the place I get an odd feeling in the pit of my stomach that can only come from remembering the day that I walked out of the House of God and smack dab into the face of violence and evil.

And I will never forget that feeling as long as I live

fortress 

As I worked in the yard today rakin' and mowin' I could hear the pines gently whispering to me. There's a line of them running west to east in just the right spot to block some of the ever present wind that blows over this hill that is home.

The former inhabitants of this old house were Mr. and Mrs. W.W. Council and their family. Mr.Council was a horse man from way back when. They lived here close to 50 years so I thank them daily for the horticultural gifts that were left to me.....big old peony bushes and strategically placed trees. Daffodils and stone walkways. The house was built in 1918 or thereabouts as a part of a sprawling complex that eventually became The Ferguson Farm, purveyors of produce, livestock, and their own unique little world. Profits from a WWI army raincoat biz paid for the place.

As I worked on this winter's collection of leaves and pine needles, I thought back to the very first time that I cleaned out that pine grove. For the first 10 years that we lived here, I didn't touch it. One spring, I got a wild hair and started in on a project that lasted 6 months just to get to bare dirt. Up to that point, the Virgina creeper and poison ivy wound their way through a foot of 20 year old wet pine needles and leaves to reach the little bit of sunshine that could be found.

Now, there is a shade bed where the nasty blanket once lay. Hostas...astillbes...four o'clocks. One of my favs is the "foamflower" that does it's thing in April and then sits there for the rest of the year lookin' cute.

It's that time y'all. I travel with a shovel in my trunk so I can dig up what I see along the roadside and bring it home to MY yard. I'm hopeless.

But that's okay, because Spring only comes once a year.

I raised up out of my warm cocoon of blankets at daybreak to see Babygirl coming through the door with a figure behind her, and assumed it was b'friend.

"MOM....guess who's here!!!"
"mumble,snort,groan"
"It's Bobby! He's here!"
"mumble.bobbywho.mumble"
BOBBY DEAN!!!!!!!!!!!

And I'll be damned if it wasn't :) Coming at the crack of dawn to give his adopted mom a hug.

Bobby is one of the pack of young adults who were around here fulltime for awhile. They ate and partied and crashed here. They fought and made up and cried here. When some inconsiderate member of the opposite sex broke their hearts, I heard it all. When their parents wouldn't or couldn't understand them, I was their go to gal.
I went to sleep many nights with their bonfires shining through my bedroom window and the bass of somebody's truck stereo pounding. But I always slept well. Because they were here, and they were safe and they're good people.

The drama that is their collective pasts is part Friends and part Dazed and Confused.Bobby was one of the "bad boys" with a good heart who seemed to attract trouble like a magnet. He left the familiar chaos of this town and moved on to another life in another city away from the same old routines and habits. And it shows in his smiling face. He's happier than I've ever seen him.

Home. Where the heart is.

What a great wakeup call. ^j^

those were the 1st words typed on a keyboard in my house. they came shortly after my proud mom 'n dad brought us our first used pc. with mouse :)

that was the start of somethin'...not exactly sure what it was cuz that remains to be seen. it was a start though, and that's something good every time it happens.

the start of something is a time of hope and dreams and "anything's possible" thinking. it's the first step before the next one and that's not a bad place to be in this world.

keepin' the faith y'all........^j^

There's nothin' worse for a blogger than not being able to comment. I mean, after all.....that's part of the allure, right

Dang. Talk about frustrated!! I've found several new ones that I'd love to leave comments on but of course Blogger comments aren't working on ANY of 'em I've run across.

One can only theorize that the meisters at Blogger are busting butt to improve their comments so they can compete with HaloScan ( which, by the way, is ALWAYS up and running!)

Or maybe they're just getting a kick out of messin' with us :)

heh 

Dear Doggie Doc:
I arrived home from work today only to find that my precious Butterbean has ingested an Allegra D ( bein' a medical person and all, you know that ONE contains 120 mg of pseudoephedrine, one of the active ingredients in meth )

My question is this.....should I take her to the doggie ER for stomach pumping? She is performing amazing feats like leaping over low limbs and the full grown lab. Her little eyes are all bugged out yet she seems happy!

Please advise...

Sincerely, Worried'n'TN

****************************

Dear Worried,
Be not afraid. Butterbean will eventually run out of steam and superpowers and land right smack on your bed to sleep it off. As a serendipitous blessing, her allergies will be in check for early spring. That reminds me of an old vet joke...stop me if you've heard it. "If the bitch lives, I saved her. If she dies...well, I didn't quite get there in time."

Place all chewables ( including thongs and bras ) above pup level for the time being.

Here's to some great doggie times in your neck of the woods.

Your friend.....Dr. Heartworm Prevention All Year Long :)

Hmm...on a cleaning binge here so TV's been on giving me food for thought.

Tonight's stories include:

Doctors perform too many mastectomies....
Perhaps. Breast cancer is one of the most frightening things a woman can face. It is NOTORIOUS for returning years later in another location. Dr. Somebody at M.D. Anderson noted that Medicare ( thus private insurance ) reimburses twice as much for the more radical procedure than for a complex physician's treatment plan. Not that treatment plans have anything to do with reimbursement, right? Footnote: Lawyers love to sue doctors for doing their job and not being God. KEYWORDS: tort reform ( medical malpractice ), Medicare reform

Convicted terrorists contact their cronies from U.S. prisons.....
According to one federal prison official because of a "lack of translators" for inspection of outgoing mail. Seems that Mr. Al Jazeera is sending propoganda to his fellow martyrs in terrorist cells all over the world, like in Morocco and Spain and who knows where else. Excuse me? Why is this correspondence making it past the mailroom at all....translator or not? If the government cannot afford the privilege for these convicted terrorists to "communicate", then they should lose the letters. Deal with it.

US Intelligence is lacking....
Well, in this dog eat dog world, who do you trust? Our intelligence is coming from persons in other countries ( most of which despise us ) who usually have something to gain from passing on the goods. Iran. Iraq. Korea. Afghanistan. France. Add Italy to the list.

The Arab world wonders why their elections do not receive the coverage that ours do.....
The great satellite network has empowered the peoples of Arab nations to text message each other about political moves other than suicide bombing. How fresh! We should put Gates and the Mac guy on that one. I bet there'd be either world peace or total chaos within a week.
Before you know it, the women would be going barefaced.

Michael Jackson is still in court.....
yawn*

March Madness....
Upsets all around this weekend. Dontcha just love it?

Weather report.....
Winter's last blast slams the US as citizens prepare for the upcoming tornado/hurricane seasons and buy potting soil, flowers, grills, vacations and shorts.

Finance.....
Bankruptcy reform....at last! Credit card companies finally get the relief that they have sought for years during this whirlwind decade of folks accepting a deal from the devil and seeking help with the fallout. I'll sleep much better tonight.
No wonder Babygirl watches I Love Lucy :)

Well, as my Momma always sez.....tomorrow's another day.

^j^

wrong end of a horse..... 

tiny spears 

"Ya gotta make a mess to clean one up." Don't remember who said it....probably several left brainers during my tenure here on Earth. Leader of the pack would be my uncle Jimbo. He was a musician by vocation and a dreamer at heart.

Jimbo drug my poor auntie and the girls from house to house as he remodeled his way through the county during his middle years. His hobby....buy a house with "potential" aka history and/or antiques and tear the crap out of it. Sheetrock dust flyin' and nails pounding at every turn. I have a quilt and a depression glass bowl from our last adventure with a fixer upper.

He and Auntie taught me the basics of music via piano lessons. Since he was band director and I wanted to join the fun he made sure I had something to do in the keyboard section. One big solo on the stand up chimes to my name :) He was soooooooo proud.

Mostly I was the "manager" and got to ride along for free. I ran errands with no questions asked and went on band trips and generally had a dang good time. His ghost is one that has alternately haunted me and brought me comfort since he died at age 54 from prostate cancer.

Next up? Sheetrock mud to spray all over the walls for a nice smooth painting texture. Green will be the dominant color. Right smack in the middle of asparagus season.

Go figure.

And keep the faith. ^j^

day is done 

early bloomer 

the road to home 

yesterday....... 

While watching the teevee tonight I was inspired to start a grassroots campaingn to elect Benny Hinn for our next president. He's evangelical and lives the high life, so I think he fits the bill. He's got lots of mindless followers who shovel the bucks his way. Lovely wife too.

We could write him in by punching one of the following chads:

Praise the Lord

Heal!

"Kiss" to the child's forehead

Bring me my car...

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I remember about 10 years ago being at a conference in a nearby metro area with a co-worker....we spent the day in a nasty hotel conference room with a buffet and discussed the fact that one of our other co-workers was at Benny's "crusade du jour" that day in the same city. Go figure the Lord's work.

Y'all keep the faith.

^j^

the puppy formerly known as hope 

Some of you may remember the Burberry brindle Christmas pup that we gifted ourselves with from the local pound. Since we already had the lab named FAITH obviously this one would be named HOPE.

Somewhere along the way that name got changed to Butterbean *snicker* by Babygirl. That's just as well, since I endured countless jokes at work on the names of future dogs like "love" "sex" "charity", etc.

An overnight visitor even took to calling her BIG EARS! Can't imagine why???

I've been on a roll with the camera today so expect lots of new pictures-from-paradise. ^j^

it COULD happen! Something to ponder......

don't laff... 

Patricia at BlondeSense is pissed off again, and rightfully so. It takes a pretty large pile of poop to get me riled up ( like wars and stuff ) but her post today did it. How in the name of Thomas Jefferson can federal money be spent to circumvent a Supreme Court decision? That's OUR money folks. Tax money over which you have no control. If Lt. Gov. Jennings wants to fund a "pregnancy counseling against abortion" initiative, the United Way gets into stuff like that 3 bucks at a time. That is not how I want my money spent. I'd rather have it spent on proper equipment for the soldiers fighting in the war that I don't approve of. If I choose to contribute privately to that kind of deal, it's my business.....but definitely not the biz of the US government.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I turned my mowers over to a 3 tour Vietnam vet today who came highly recommended by my brother. Bein' one of those "talkers" he managed to recount his experiences when he returned from Nam one time.....crowds of people in Frisco spitting on him and booing as he boarded the plane home for his father's funeral. He hated those protesters for treating him that way, and I feel his pain.

Today's protesters have the wisdom of 30 plus years of American politics to refine their methods and grow up a bit. Those who welcomed home friends who were fried for life now face uncertainty as their kids and grandkids fight this war on__________. Oh yeah, and their reservist friends too.

I don't spend a lot of time dwelling on the subject because it's bad for my health and life is short. There are much more effective ways to encourage change than stomping your little feet and burning a flag...that just antagonizes the right wingers.

I'm more into quiet resolve.

And.. you know what they say about the quiet ones.

^j^

Extended

Step carefully into the kitchen, dear Virgo. You just might discover evidence that the dogs have partied with the garbage while you slumbered. Good news arrives early in the day from The Eagle. His talons appear to be firmly in place on the limb that supports health and happiness.

You will enjoy much needed laughter in route to your workplace by listening to John Boy and Billy's Big Show and their constant foolish chatter. *snort* "guffaw" Classic rock rocks and so do you, precious Virgo maiden.

Your day will be a whirlwind of venipunctural adventure, transfusion medicine for the multi-tasker and much much MORE! Delight in your ability to perform many tasks. It is truly a gift from the stars!

As your ruling planet, Mercury cannot stay in retrograde forever, do not be surprised to see increased activity on the romantic front. Could that sexy Leo lion be preparing to pounce on YOU? Do not be coy and flutter your lovely eyelashes. Speak your heart.

Embrace your creative talents through your own special avenue. The growing season is nigh, and there are perennials and annuals to be planted and tended. Haul out the waterhose and get the lawnmower in good repair. Spring is just around the Samaria Bend and keyboards look much less attractive during longer days.

Treat yourself to candles, books, music, good food and the laughter of the spider monkey. You deserve the best!!

Your federal tax dollars kick butt in the Volunteer State.

These are the same DEA folks who bust people for medicinal marijuana in states where it is legal. Go figure.

Tell me ONE MORE TIME how the "war on drugs" will be won by denying terminally ill patients their weed.

This afternoon I came home from work and settled on the couch to rest my feet and watch Oprah. I can't tell you how long it's been since I've done that. Why, you ask? Cuz I'm so attached to my "invisible friends" in the blog world that I spend all of my spare time reading about their lives and laughing/crying at their interpretations of everyday life.

Now granted, this is much healthier than roaming chat rooms like I did for a couple of years. Since I'm single and Babygirl is grown up, I have a lot of free time on my hands which could be spent in much worse ways ( can you say BARFLY ) than by tapping my little carpals off on the keyboard while my psyche gets jiggy.

A quick glance at my blogroll will show that I'm not a snob or "all about" ANYTHING in particular. I enjoy good writing, satire, political banter and just plain old dumbassedness on occasion. People who have the ability to use graphics and tools to jazz up their blogs amaze me and I love to get off on their colors. Being a dial-up gal in the country I've waited literally MINUTES for some of the fancier ones to load just to see what's up in that neck of the world. As for me...I felt real proud the day I learned how to
Mostly I think I just enjoy blogs because they are about the creator...a peek into another person's soul that is reserved for those anonymous moments when they want to share without retribution and be who they are. It's like reading your kid's diary :)

There is much ado about the purpose and power of the weblog these days. Some claim that it should be reserved for "serious" topics like politics. Employers HATE 'em because they distract their folks from their real duty of making them money. But, all in all.....blogs are here to stay I do believe. They are a cheap alternative to hours with a psychotherapist and a virtual goldmine of information for the inquisitive mind.

They are entertainment, instruction, brain food and soul food. In the words of a very wise man, a blog is a "wonderful think."

"Blogroll me peeps." { Now ain't that much more polite than "A/S/L?"}

Y'all keep the faith.....

^j^

You know..she lives over there by the funeral home. Had a sex change back in the 50's when it was a big scandal and such.

"Umm..I think I remember her. She's Earline now, right?"

lord yes girl.

"there's a freakin' gazebo in the front yard mom."

yes, well. it's an eyesore, but artists have to express themselves.

"momma?"

yes honey.

"this war scares me. really bad."

me too sugar...but what do you do? we voted for this war back in november.

"49% of the country didn't. nobody listened to me"

think back to when you were 13 and our soldiers were tromping thru the jungle in vietnam?

"sure..i was a woodstock kid, remember?"

well, sometimes a great country like the USA feels the need to flex its' muscles and play big Ike. it's the way of the world.

"that reminds me of a song......"

The Fish Cheer & I-Feel-Like-I'm-Fixin'-To-Die Rag

Gimme an F!

F!
Gimme an I!

I!
Gimme an S!

S!
Gimme an H!

H!
What's that spell ?

FISH!
What's that spell ?

FISH!
What's that spell ?

FISH!
Yeah, come on all of you, big strong men,
Uncle Sam needs your help again.
He's got himself in a terrible jam
Way down yonder in Vietnam
So put down your books and pick up a gun,
We're gonna have a whole lotta fun.

And it's one, two, three,
What are we fighting for ?
Don't ask me, I don't give a damn,
Next stop is Vietnam;
And it's five, six, seven,
Open up the pearly gates,
Well there ain't no time to wonder why,
Whoopee! we're all gonna die.

Well, come on generals, let's move fast;
Your big chance has come at last.
Gotta go out and get those reds —
The only good commie is the one who's dead
And you know that peace can only be won
When we've blown 'em all to kingdom come.

And it's one, two, three,
What are we fighting for ?
Don't ask me, I don't give a damn,
Next stop is Vietnam;
And it's five, six, seven,
Open up the pearly gates,
Well there ain't no time to wonder why
Whoopee! we're all gonna die.

Huh!

Well, come on Wall Street, don't move slow,
Why man, this is war au-go-go.
There's plenty good money to be made
By supplying the Army with the tools of the trade,
Just hope and pray that if they drop the bomb,
They drop it on the Viet Cong.

And it's one, two, three,
What are we fighting for ?
Don't ask me, I don't give a damn,
Next stop is Vietnam.
And it's five, six, seven,
Open up the pearly gates,
Well there ain't no time to wonder why
Whoopee! we're all gonna die.

Well, come on mothers throughout the land,
Pack your boys off to Vietnam.
Come on fathers, don't hesitate,
Send 'em off before it's too late.
Be the first one on your block
To have your boy come home in a box.

And it's one, two, three
What are we fighting for ?
Don't ask me, I don't give a damn,
Next stop is Vietnam.
And it's five, six, seven,
Open up the pearly gates,
Well there ain't no time to wonder why,
Whoopee! we're all gonna die.

lord girl..you always had a dang big mouth.

"yep..and momma?"

what baby?

"i love you...tell daddy i love him too."

Remember that little ditty Gilda Radner used to do on SNL called "What Gilda Ate"? It was always quite charming, in an Emily Latella sort of way and usually included a couple of antacids covered in lint.

My choco lab is about to get her OWN gig on Pet Night called "What Faith Ate". On any given day it will include the usual assorted doggie things like moles and the cat's food and half a rabbit. However, this dog likes WOODEN things best of all.

Labs are very oral animals. In the few months that Faith has grown from cute lil pup to full grown dog she has cut her canine incisors on the following assortment of wooden objects:

The piano leg

The edge of the front AND back porches

The front porch swing

And her latest culinary adventure: MY BRAND NEW BIRDHOUSE!

Yes indeed.....My friend came to visit yesterday bearing gifts of a birdhouse and seed which we promptly placed on a stump outside the loo window for potty viewing.
While we were busy replacing the storm door handles ( which Faith ALSO ate ) we let the dogs run around outside and play.

As soon as I took my seat on the throne some hour later, the birdhouse was nowhere to be seen. I spotted it down the hill beyond the flock of birds that had gathered over the pile of seed laying there. Hmm..

Oh well. Teethmarks give anything more character. And one can always buy more birdseed.

P.S. When terriers eat birdseed, it passes very quickly through the digestive system and looks really wierd comin' out!

P.S.S. Labs can snore almost as loud as guys.