A few years ago I noticed a picture in my local newspaper of a handsome man dressed in period costume. This gentleman was a participant in the local college's book festival featuring the explorations of Lewis and Clark. It was after the fact when I saw the picture, but I contacted him later because I was intrigued with his passion for American rivers and his extensive knowledge of nature and wildlife. Plus, he was cute *wink wink* Alas, he's a happily married guy, the husband of Sarah, but I've continued to follow the adventures of John Ruskey and his river partner Michael Clark. Most recently their travels have taken them to St. Helens, Oregon on the banks of the Columbia River where they supervised the carving of a dugout canoe from a 28 foot Western red cedar. This is part of the bicentennial celebration of the Lewis and Clark Expedition sponsored by the National Park Service called Corps of Discovery II. The celebration will culminate with the arrival of the men and women who are re-enacting the famous journey, scheduled to arrive below the arches in St. Louis on September 23rd of this year.

John and Michael's readers have been treated to a day by day account of their wood carving adventures via e-mail from the Quapaw Canoe Company in Clarksdale, Mississippi. Michael is an educator in Missouri who met John by chance on the Mighty Mississippi. Their next project is the carving of yet another dugout from a cottonwood on the banks of the Yellowstone River in Livingston, Montana come July.

Interested in their adventures? Check it out here.

"And the question is........What do you call 5,000 dead lawyers at the bottom of the ocean?

Pardon me while I hammer out the planks of my platform as a write-in candidate for 2008. It would triple my salary and allow us to save change the USA as we know it. I'm not very good with money so my first priority is to hire Bill Gates as Secretary of the Treasury. Any guy who can re-invent the internet every two years and demand ransom for it knows all about the buck. Sorry Al.

Immigration reform is on everybody's mind these days according to the news. Once again, it's all about the paperwork. Imagine how many government jobs are kept alive and kicking tracking down illegal immigrants and protecting the borders. I propose that we streamline the process of citizenship and increase the tax base. Personally, I'm tired of supporting the downtrodden. I'd like to see those on green cards become full fledged citizens of this great country and contribute to the upkeep of the political elite like the rest of us do. Once they realize that it's expensive to be an American they'll run like hell for home.

The war on drugs has taken a back seat to the war on terror, dollarwise. Is it just me or does this country of ours always have to have a war on something? How about we just make love and not war? Your tax dollars contribute heavily to long term federal imprisonment of people who grow and smoke pot. Millions of bucks are spent on drug testing of American workers who show up every day to do their jobs and need a little buzz to relax from playing office politics to feed the upper echelon. Marijuana is an excellent cash crop, yet it remains illegal in the USA and of no use to our government except for paying the salaries of the DEA. Crack, meth and heroin? I say kick their asses,boys. Just leave the doobie brothers and sisters alone.

The Middle East is very similar to our own beloved country in that there are a few who get very rich and the rest just schlep along hoping for something different. Those pictures of golden inlaid castles over in foreign lands with American soldiers in the foreground? They could have been taken here on American soil. Please refer to the richest of the rich here at home. Compare and contrast the morals and value systems of American politicians and middle eastern oil barons. I don't see much difference.

The healthcare industry is completely out of control. In the twenty nine years I've been a part of it, insurance companies have refused to pay for tests and treatments that they don't deem necessary. In my humble opinion, this grew from an environment of totally free healthcare as an entitlement to American workers of the seventies. Doctors learned back in the day that it was easy to ride the white horse and promise eternal life with this or that potion. Don't get me started on the pharaceutical companies. If they cut out the free pens and notepads me and you both could retire. Like anybody even looks at the writing anyways.... Sheesh. Big Ernie promises that if you do right by folks and stand up against injustice there will be a reward approaching your own personal heaven. What would that be to you?

Homeland security is a major plank. Four and a half years ago some suicide bombers opened our eyes to the vulnerability of our "borders." There ain't no border when there's hate on the agenda. Compare the numbers of a one day strike on the financial and political districts of our Eastern coast to the four years spent in retaliation for September 11, 2001. We're almost even. Feel better now?

Call your mother. Hug your kids. Meet someone halfway. Say "I love you" when you feel it. Raise some hell.

^j^

My old and dear friend Claudia is the business manager at the UT Vet School in Knoxville. Her little dog Tillie used to bark ONLY when she talked to me on the phone like she knew it was me and was pissed because I was takin' up her Mama's time. She sent me something today that absolutely blew me away, and the karma was too much to pass up.

Talk about keeping the faith ....this story truly does inspire my faithful side!

Remember that sitcom based on a guy with two girl roomies? That's my life right now. Babygirl's b-friend has moved in with us for awhile with all of his stuff, and BOY does the guy have some stuff. I'm learning all over again about things like checkin' the position of the toilet seat and covering up on the way to and from the shower. It's not like he hasn't been a fixture around here for ummm...almost five years. Only difference is, now we get to use his cool stuff. Like a dishwasher and freezer and a washer and dryer that work. Like I said, I'm a low maintenance kinda gal. If he teaches me to use the chainsaw I'll give him extra points.

The new roomie's real name is John, but he ended up with the nickname Gumbler somehow. From that, we took the liberty of christening him as Gomer. Like many mothers before me, I have discovered that all of that separation anxiety over the first day of kindergarten or the two weeks at summer camp was just me being a silly control freak...like Moms tend to do. If kids are given love and attention and empathy, they always come back home to roost in between life adventures and usually there's a passenger or two in the interim. The wise parent will roll with the punches and embrace each and every one of them. At least until the food runs out.

Whenever they leave, I've got dibs on the chainsaw.

An absolutely gorgeous one for playin' outside. The mowers cranked up with very little drama, thank you Big Ernie. Due to this little cool spell we've had the yard doesn't really need mowin'...I just wanted to see if they were ready to roll when the yard boy shows up. That would be the old Poopster herself, y'all. Don'tcha just adore a redneck gal who can multitask?

We burned some shit had a lovely fire last night. It was cold as a witches you-know-what but the stars were bright and there was no wind and the beer didn't get hot. I added my winter stick collection to the embers today and got it fired back up for a minute or two. One of BabyGirl's friends asked me to teach him how to play backgammon on my fancy schmancy board. It's been so long since I played that I forgot about the men up on the bar and rolling to get 'em out of jail and headed toward home.

Last time I wrote something here I was wishin' for Friday and it's already Monday eve. I hate it when that happens.



Update, status urgent. Western Tennesse news is mostly bad. *gasp* If it bleeds it leads, I reckon. The University of Memphis tigers are out of the smackdown. They're in good company with the Duke boys and all that. Sorry redneck friend...there's always next year. In other news, the MSM from around the globe has sent reporters to interview the couple who cried foul when their live-in babysitter of five years went missing with the kids and turned out to be a man. Mom looked simply lovely among the TV cameras smokin' a cig like a movie star from the forties stoned out of her gourd. She and the baby'daddy are just "shocked" at the lie. In a nearby town "the perfect wife" of a COC minister shot him in the back and hightailed it to an Orange Beach condo with the kidlets. I've read that she confessed to the whole thing due to the temporary insanity of being a woman who doesn't have a clue who she is.

Bless his heart, he usually don't have a clue about how to make her feel special. If she doesn't grab the bull by the horn and run with it he's lost as a goose amongst all the soul searching and such. Thus, a star in the commercial realm is born. I'm gonna make my pile on this one, y'all hide and watch.

I am proud to introduce my latest brainchild, with a little help from my friends. This business was christened Poopie's Pleasures the other night and so it shall be. Each and every girl is unique, and their needs are just as original. Here's the pitch, guys. You know how brides and pregnant ladies register for what they want for gifts? Bingo. You know how you never listen to your lady until she grabs you by the wanger and lays it on you? Eureka! Register your beloved with us and we will listen to her yayaya and be your personal shopper for whatever puts her in the mood. Take the guesswork out of gettin' laid and shop with us!

Massage? Fifty bucks an hour for your stressed out sweetie under the magical hands of Rebecca. She'll be putty in your paws begging to have her way with you as you walk in the door from your latest fishin' trip. How many of you get bored with listening to favorite author and musician chat? Send that gal on over to the Pleasure House to register her literary and musical picks and take the guesswork out of keeping her content for a day or three. We have candles galore, and they don't come cheap. It's worth it though, dontcha think? Out of the doghouse and into the love nest with you, cad. We have baseball/football/soccer/hockey/lacrosse/golf/nascar caps for every team to top those pretty little heads that aim to please you.

There are some things that we just.won't.do. Among those are china, flatware and stemware. Poops has found that it's a huge waste of money when a gift card to your local merchant will bring more passion to today's woman. Grandma sent her silver and linens down the pike to be enjoyed by future generations. That time is each and every holiday, even if you go huntin' in the morning or hop a plane from Europe the night before. The rest of the time, expect paper plates and plastic cups.

Gift certificates available now. If you missed Valentine's Day, Easter is coming up soon. We also sell bait and tackle and duck decoys, in season.

Mom called yesterday to tell me that Miss P is in the hospital. Could I take the time to drop by and say hi? Our families have been bound together for close to fifty years through that fickle thing known as fate transformed into friendship. If there were ever two more polar opposites in this universe, it was my parents and this couple. They were both educators, he my elementary school principal and she an English teacher in my junior high school. Later she became a librarian not to be taken lightly by the idiots of the early teenage years. He remarked to my parents that I seemed "bored" in grade school. He would peek into the classroom and observe my daydreaming self gazing out the window until crunch time came, and then I would ace the test of the day. Their son Timothy and I are the same age and the Moms played bridge together. Every other Tuesday...without fail. It was girls' night out ritual for those wild women.

No Christmas season was complete until our families had gathered to share a meal and exchange presents. The rest of this ensemble consisted of J&J and their two boys. When we were in about the sixth grade, our parents hosted a big old joint birthday party at the park complete with scaveneger hunt and weenie roast for the three of us who were born within days of each other. Poopie and Timothy and Jackie, the three musketeers. I suppose that is when I learned that boys make mighty good friends and aren't nearly as complicated as girls in the emotions department. I got my first adolescent kiss in the bushes from young Jack.

I tiptoed into Miss P's room this morning and found her busy frettin' and fussing over who knows what. She was alone as I pulled the chair up next to her bed and said hello. At first she called me by my Mama's name...an understandable slip since we look so much alike. Reaching over to hold her hand I noticed how frail she is. "I love you" she said. "I love you too, Sweetie." There was such agony in her eyes and facial expression as her mind raced wanting to say a million little things to me, like how proud she is of me and the boys. "I love you." The bruises on her little face, fresh from the falls, stared back at me. The strokes have taken away most of the use of her body and much of her mind, yet she still manages to say those three little words.

In the end, that's all that counts.

Yep..all of us. Mama's boy or Daddy's girl or victim of love/abuse/train wreck etc. Each individual is the sum total of the experiences that he or she has had, including the family heritage. So much of that is just pure drama, in my opinion. I see it played out at work when Auntie or Grandpa-in-law is sick and dying. Nothing like a crisis to bring everybody's baggage out in clear view. My bags are a bit lighter these days, thanks to where I've been and what I've learned along the way. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if we all just said to hell with the personal agenda and walked in another person's shoes for a day or two. Webster would define that as empathy.

Everybody gets tired and pissed...and rightfully so. Sometimes we run across a cretin or two who just doesn't have a clue where the anger comes from and even denies that it exists. If they ain't busy spewing it out on the rest of the world they're denying it exists and going the passive agressive route. More of the same turns into more of the same which is much less than we need and deserve. For three years now our government has been pouring massive amounts of money and American lives into a "project" that is a no-win situation for all involved. I can't quote the body count, but this guy can on any given day. It's a full fledged shit storm over there. There are guys like Bill who got called up on the verge of retirement to build schools and hospitals for the Iraqi people. They are serving our country by doing damage control in another one halfway across the globe where they who don't blink an eye at taking humanitarians out on their way to martyrdom are out in full force.

When will it be about us and OUR issues? The richest country in the world runs on an agenda of the haves gettin' richer and the have nots losing what little hope they have for a better life. Meanwhile, our elected officials pander and play and line their pockets. I won't say the "H" word. If I did, Homeland Security would be all over me like white on rice. Hell, I'd be Jimmy Hoffa in the Forked Deere River thanks to that wiretapping business.

Yeah..Poopie's on a rant. This lady is too. I may not know what I'm talkin'about, but I think she does.

^j^

Like a certain anonymous b**gger in Oregon, I'm always on the lookout for a way to make a fast buck. It seems that his buddy Bill Gates is probably the ticket to most everybody's fame and fortune. Otherwise, why would we be here typing instead of gettin' drunk and nekkid under the stars. Why, indeed. Because we are collectively writing the "Book of Internet Pieces." Gene would file this under "It's a good thing." I'm not sure what Martha would say. If our stories co-ordinate, I imagine we'll be on the shelves of the nearest super store as contributors to the book of taking-life-with-a-grain-of-salt.

I will be away for awhile lookin' for SugarDaddy,love,world peace,cheap gas myself. If y'all find me, leave a message at the beep.

^j^

If I'd ever been half-assed honest on the personals ads that I put up back in the day, I would have used that phrase to describe myself. What else can you say about a gal who passes on a hot outfit to go to the hardware for a new rake and a flat of violas. Chives too! Thanks for the inspiration Stacie. Worked up a good sweat gettin' the front bed ready for the wildflower seed my Mom gave me for Christmas. If the birds don't eat it and the dogs don't waller in it, we're good to grow.

The new rake was a necessary purchase because my other one got a little charred during the great Thanksgiving pasture fire of '05. The pasture is greening up real nice for spring, so no harm done. *cough* Those lazy horses will have a place to graze for another season. Trapper and Pride know they've got it made out here. They just bust out every now and then to keep Daddy on his toes. One spring, not long after we moved here, Trapper got bad sick from eating too much green stuff. The horse witch doctor, Martin Ware, came out to do some of his voodoo with a special potion he called "Nevermind." Since he was close to ninety and a little un-steady he asked me to assist. Umm...there was lightin' of kerosene on the hooves and some alum and sugar out of a paper bag fed straight to the horse's mouth. I'll be damned if that horse didn't get up and quit rolling around in the dirt the very next day.

Road Apples is a sharp reader and asked if I'd married the same guy twice. Like....duh,Poopie. I sure did. That's a whole 'nother story though. Ancient history, so to speak.

According to the old cliche, it makes us stronger. The very first time that I heard that saying was when BabyGirl was about 12 years old and me and her Dad were freshly post-divorce #1. I wrote the words on an index card with a Sharpie and stuck it on the refrigerator next to coupons for a buck off of pizza and goofy kid pictures. Had I known then how MUCH stronger I would become, I probably would have said "Thanks, but no thanks." At times, it has seemed almost too much to bear.

Then again, the alternative was to throw up my hands and lose the faith to which I have clung so firmly during treks through the valley. I have always tended to have an empathetic nature...if you hurt, I hurt along with you. If you accomplish a victory I will applaude you from here to next year. That mindset can be a blessing, but it can also be quite painful for a tender hearted girl such as myself. It's called Catch-22, Poops.

My grandma told me one time long ago that "We're just all borrowed to each other here on Earth by God." The older I get, the more I am forced to embrace that wisdom as people and relationships enter and exit my life at an alarming rate. "Carpe diem" takes on a whole new meaning when you think about it that way. That may mean nothing more than taking a detour from the usual routine to spend time with an old friend or make a new one. It can become a way of life, if only we have faith in the process. And keep it.

My friend Amy Claire shared this with me not too long ago. It's something that she has had either inside or on her desk for twenty two years. It lives on my dresser mirror now, her legacy to me.

COMES THE DAWN

After a while you learn the subtle difference
Between holding a hand and chaining a soul.
And you learn that love doesn't mean security,
and you begin to learn that kisses aren't contracts
and presents aren't promises.
And you begin to accept your defeats
with your eyes open, with the grace of a woman not the grief of a child.
And you learn to build all your roads on today, because tomorrow's ground is too uncertain
And futures have a way of falling down in mid-flight.
After a while you learn that even sunshine burns if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden and decorate your own soul, instead of waiting for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn that you really can endure....
That you really are strong, and you really do have worth.
And you learn and learn, with every goodbye, you learn.

by Veronica Shoffstall

As you all know, the Poopster has given up lazy-assedness for Lent. Hopefully it will stick past Easter, though I tend to get lazy again when the heat and humidity hit. Southern belles do so hate to sweat. Anyhow, while it lasts I thought I'd share the view with you. From my house to the end of the lane where it meets the "main" (and I use the term loosely) road, and back to the house is exactly a mile...and quite a scenic one at that. I can see the haunted dairy barn and silos from my yard, and as I get closer they loom before me.

It's downhill from there with a huge mess of kudzu on the left and the drainage ditch on the right. Following heavy rains like we've had, it's constantly in motion carrying the water away from the cropland on top of the hill.

Of course the dawgs LOVE it because they can take a dip as they please while we're out. Toward the bottom, beside the paper shell pecan trees, the water gets quite deep and spills over the road during hard rains.

If I'm feelin' real energetic (which ain't often) I'll take a left at the main road and walk to my parents' house or take a right and another right and hoof it up the golf course. Same hill there as well. I'm still in trainin' though, so me and the girls turn around and head back up the incline.

Can you hear me huffing and puffing?? The airport runway runs along the edge of the golf course so I can hear small planes piloted by instructors and students taking off and landing most any time, especially on pretty days. There's an occasional corporate jet arrival or departure that has quite a different sound. Topping the hill and passing by the barn again, I can see my house down the lane, framed by hundred year old pecan trees.

This line of pines serves as a windbreak for stormy winter months when the northwest winds come straight at us. Just a few more steps and I'm home!

The only thing better would be to have some good conversation on the walk. The dogs are too busy playin' to chat with me.

There's an event in Memphis this evening that promises good times and a meeting of some progressive minds in Tennessee politics. I'm not talking about these folks . Oh yes, they will be in the River City in full force doing damage control for their political party. However, at a little place on Monroe Street some faithfuls plan to honor the memory of one of their own fallen heroes, known to the Rocky Top Brigade simply as CG.

Keep the faith Frankie...

We're between storms here on Pecan Lane. Our proximity to the Mighty Mississippi assures us that there's never a dull moment weather wise. It seems that each and every storm gains momentum as it crosses the river and slams Western Tennessee, Kentucky and Mississippi with the renewed and angry energy.

I was wondering today what life would be like if I had radar like the weather service does, to let me know when there are rough spots ahead. I left home in time to make it to my doctor appointment before the storm hit, thanks to the digital picture on my computer. Sitting in the waiting room listening to the wind and rain howl I kicked myself for not bringing a book. Truth is, I haven't read much lately. The news is depressing and spun by those who have something to gain. I still look over my shoulder just enough to not relax and enjoy the escape of a good work of fiction.

I'm hoping that spring will bring me out of that place and into the present where I can write live my own romance novel.

Oh-my-goodness! The flora and fauna are having a field day here on Pecan Lane. I'd show you a picture, but I just can't do justice to the beauty of naturalized jonquils blowin'in the breeze gusts of the advancing front. Yikes! Will there be room in the bathtub for Poopie and all the critters and roommates???? If not we can just crawl under the furniture in the basement and pray for the best.

My precious BabyGirl knows how very much I need SugarDaddy, and she is constantly on the hunt for prospects. Her graveyard shift job affords opportunities to surf the web for step-daddy and she found this hunk ready and willing to please me in all the right ways.

I do so love that girl..she knows my heart and style.

In other news, this kitty is in heat and howlin' like a banshee while this one has a big old tumor in his belly that he carries with grace. The dawgs checked out well at the vet's office. In exchange for this month's truck payment for the head doc, they have cute little stars on their collars that say "Hope" and "Faith." It's just about all our bedtimes.

Say g'night Butterbean.

Disclaimer: I am nowhere near an expert on this subject, but I'm willing to share with the curious what I've learned the hard way about tiling a countertop. I was intimidated by the task so much so that I put it off for months after picking up the donated tile from my buddy Amy Claire. Granted I had to paint and such first, but still I was scared to death to try it.

First lesson learned the hard way: If the countertop is covered with that old laminate stuff that's glued down, LEAVE IT. I spent a couple of splinter filled days ripping mine off piece by itty bitty piece when I could have tiled right over it. All you need is a flat surface.

I borrowed a manual tile cutter from a friend because my job was a small one. If you're doing floors or huge projects, you probably need a tile saw. Everything that I read said to center a tile on the front of the surface and work back and out from there. That worked well for me with the cut pieces along the edges and back of the countertop. I did a trial run by placing tiles on the surface with spacers in between to get a general idea how many I'd need of each size. Note to newbies: The spacers, little plastic x's stick UP into the air by one arm, not flush against the countertop. They keep the tiles a uniform distance apart to form the channels for the grout. My friend warned me about that, cuz I'm a girl and all ;)
Second lesson learned the hard way: You need to have your cap trim piece in hand before laying the tile and work backwards from there. I failed to do that and tiled all the way from the edge of the wood. It's gonna take some finagling to trim it out after the fact.

Mastic adhesive is applied with a trowel to the area where the tile will be placed. You drag the trowel through the applied mastic to form grooves in it so that it will grip the back of the tile. Putting down one at a time, and placing spacers on all sides, you put the tile down in the desired pattern. Don't worry about getting it exactly right....the mastic dries slowly and you can move them around until you're satisfied with how they're laid. The mastic has to cure for twenty four hours before proceeding to grout. I took the spacers out after a couple of hours and let it sit. Tiles on the wall, such as a backsplash, need to have the mastic applied directly to the back of the tile before placing them on the wall, also with spacers.

Once the mastic is cured, you can grout at any time. I waited a whole week. SpectraLOCK grout is mucho expensive, but was well worth it to me because it does not require sealing. Other cheaper grouts have to be sealed after they've cured, but this one has an epoxy sealant that you mix right into it and it cuts out a step. It even comes in cool glow-in-the dark colors, but I chose white. Grouting by this method is a two person job because there's a working time of about an hour after the three parts are mixed. Me and BabyGirl tag teamed this with me applying the grout to the channels with a putty knife and her pushing it in and cutting off the excess with a rubber float. We ran our fingers through the channels to smooth it out after that. There's a wash process about 30 minutes after it's applied, with a vinegar and water solution and a big sponge. Once it's cleaned up, it cures for 24 hours and you're done.

Pretty exciting huh?? Hey..it gives a single gal who's gettin' NO action something to do in her spare time.

P.S. Thought I'd lost the dogs for sure this morning when they went chasing after a stray coyote and almost caught it! Faith probably could have held her own, but Butterbean would have been a light puppy snack. I'm still trying to get a picture of her when she smiles at me with those teeth shining.

Later.

My list has gotten considerably shorter, and the old wallet a lot lighter after this visit to the vet on Friday. We followed it up with a pig out session at the Chinese buffet and a three hour nap. Sweet. I even went out that night for a beer or ten at the kudzu bar. I met some delightful friends of friends and we had a ball actin' the fool.

And then there was the exciting grout experience yesterday! What fun! I'm so glad it's done!!!! Just a few little finishing touches and the kitchen will be ready for flooring. After that, it's time to tackle the hideous bathroom. Since we've become such tilemeisters around here, I'm thinking that we can handle doing some tile in there as well.

While I was away my friend the Cowboy Poet left me a wonderful gift over at his place. Y'all go check out the song he chose for me. I *heart* that guy.

Keep the faith kids. Love ya....mean it. ^j^

The devil made me do it. I took a spontaneous cue from the freedom gods and asked my friend Sue to work for me tomorrow when I heard her voice smiling at me on the phone. Hell, why not. I've got 13 hours of vacation to burn!

That's about the number of things that I want to do on a mental health day.

1. Both dogs need to visit the vet..past due. That's not been in the budget and still isn't, but I *heart* those girls and it shall be.
2. The grout experience. Mix,apply and wash.
3. Mom and Dad have forgotten what I look like.
4. *mental note* No snooze to slap at. Sweet.
5. Those daffodils are just screaming to be picked and I'd love to oblige.
6. If the rain passes us by, there's a big old pile of shit stuff waitin' to be burned..carpet from my bare living room floor plus leaves, branches and more stuff. I might even throw in the bag of bottle rockets left from last July 4th.
7. I need a nap. Maybe two. And a good cheap Chinese buffet.
8. When was the last time I wore real clothes, put on makeup and went "out?" I can't remember.
9. The roots are brown and gray again and I don't like that, even though my hair stays up in a clip most of the time. I believe it's time to streak.
10. Do the mile and ponder about how dumb cows are and how good they taste off the grill without the ear tags.
11. Brother has found a new band to add to the club's dance card. Need to check 'em out.
12. Load up on the complimentary NSAID.Hopefully it will ease the joint pain.
13. Keep the faith and feed the birds.

Three days and thirteen things. How will I ever get done?

I gave up being a lazyass for Lent. Me and the dawgs took off down Pecan Lane and did the mile past the haunted dairy barn down the kudzu hill and back up, huffing and puffin' all the way. Well, those girls didn't even breathe hard..they loved chasing each other in and out of the ditches and brush, exploring life outside of the porch and the yard. You know what they say about March. If today was "in like a lion" I can't WAIT to see out like a lamb.