I married, at the young age of 22, on the rebound from my first big love. The union was born of guilt because we were shacked up and that was "not acceptable" in our conservative little 'burg in the seventies. With the best of intentions we set out to be somewhat responsible adults in training. There was a child later on and a lot of bills and health issues. When we realized that it wasn't a marriage based on love, we divorced just long enough for the finances and personal lives to get really crappy and then went back for round 2 of that same marriage. Of course that one failed as well, mainly for the same reasons that #1 had bitten the dust. We had very little in common except for years as roommates and financial partners and a child. That wasn't enough to hold it together.

If I had a nickel for every person who told me that they were staying in a bad marriage "because of the children" I'd be independently wealthy. Never mind that you are out there lookin' for love in all the wrong places and lying to your spouse. Think the kids don't know what's up? Think again. They're smarter than you think and are learning from each and every lie that you live. Can't afford true happiness? Yep...heard that one too. The partnership that should be based on mutual care and concern is very often bound by the almighty dollar thanks to the legal profession. While there are some who would be sorely mistreated without legal representation during a divorce or marriage, mostly it's just more money into their pockets while you and BabyDaddy fight over property out of anger over the great betrayal. Give me a break already. Get offa your butt and smell the coffee, as Ann Landers would say.

Every failed relationship has a story with two sides. He did *this* or she ran around on me! Wonder why? Could it be that the two of you just weren't meant for each other and hung on out of habit or because it's more expensive to live separately? Been there, done that. I can honestly say that I was never mistreated except through my own blind loyalty to the institution itself. It was never a choice, just a responsibility with very little joy. The thing that was lacking was mutual commitment and that is not a legal thing by any stretch of the imagination. It is simply a promise given with an open heart and accepted in like fashion. The rest of it...well. It's just details.

I've been single long enough to be curious about what makes folks committed to each other for the long haul, be it spiritually or legally. This old gal could sure stand to hear some true love stories.

Tell me yours. It might give me faith.


^j^

Back when I first began to b**g, my fairy blogmother introduced me to the artistic talent of Marc Lutz. Every day as I began to pour my thoughts out onto the keyboard I eagerly chose the Unkymood du jour from his extensive collection of goofy faces scribbled on a yellow legal pad. Heck, they were even gender specific...just what the therapist ordered for a divorcee' struggling with multiple issues. I miss that ability to "define-the-mood" that his art provided every day. The scribbling disappeared suddenly and I went into withdrawals, but learned to cope. *sigh*

There are worse addictions I suppose.

I've always had a thing for animals. Growing up, we usually had a pet or five and they brought me great joy when I was needin' a buddy. Sorry about that bunny me and Bubba starved to death back in the day. Critters in cages are not the natural state of things that Big Ernie intended. I remember crouching in the ditch as a little thing watching my beagle, Nosey, get run over by a drunk farmer tearin' down the road in his truck. Wonder if he ever knew he hit her? He sure didn't stop.

As farm children, my brothers and I adopted whatever animal needed a home at the time. They always got named because, well....all God's children need to be called by their own name. A crow named Joe led later to a dog named Joe who got run over by Daddy's tractor with BabyGirl riding shotgun. Kittens crawled up in the dryer exhaust to keep warm down at MeMaw's house when Lauren was a toddler. We had cats out the wazoo for years after Screamer came into our home. Dang 'ho...she loved to prowl for a tom and spit those babies out ten at a time. I passed the neighbor du jour one day kitty hunting with a RIFLE in the ditches. Some people's kids.

This particular day I was at the salon place where my friend cuts my hair cheap because she knows I'm a poor girl with not much money for indulgences of the beautiful kind. As she did the usual wet cut and we chatted about life and kids, she asked me if I wanted a puppy. "What kind?" I asked. Seems that a a big old Momma choco-lab had wandered up to her house with four puppies in tow. There were two chocolate, one black and one wild spotted lookin' thing that did.not.fit the picture. Our blue heeler, Pepper, had disappeared the year before after tying up with a couple of racoons that tore his face off. Most likely he got septic and crawled off to die somewhere. The remaining canine, Starvin' Marvin, had breast cancer and died shortly after the brown pup came to live with us. We went out to Ronda's house that afternoon to see the pups. Faith was laying squarely on Big Momma's face looking all precious and stuff. Me and the girl fell head over heels for her right then and there. The puppies were about nine weeks old and Faith was the last one to get taken home. The mystery of the spotted one was solved months later when Ronda learned that it was just a hanger-on that Big Momma took to the breast with the rest of 'em. It turned out to be an Australian heeler on the road with a pack of labs running away to better homes. Miss Ronda sure does love critters..kind of like myself. So does her daughter Hannah and her husband Greg.

The neighbor who owned Big Momma had a crackhead brother who had stolen the dogs for drug money. Somehow that faithful little caravan found their way across the fields and ditches to a place where somebody cared about them being cared for. Weeks after the puppies went their separate ways, the guy came to Ronda's house to claim Big Momma. She let her go, even as BM lay content. There was much angst and suffering until, a few days later, Big Momma returned to the happy place on Ronda's kitchen floor. Crackhead gave up chasing her after that. I reckon he was too skinny and messed up to care.

This brings me full circle back to why I have kittens in the closet. As I was walking from the hospital out to the car one day, a co-worker snagged me with two kittens that somebody had dumped in the parking lot. I was going to take both of them, but somebody claimed the black and white and I headed home with the dilute calico who came to be known as Princess Cali. She's a beautiful gray striped thing who poses quite well for the camera and speaks her *meow* clearly. I've never seen BabyDaddy but Lauren sez he lives in the barn and looks like Bernie on steroids. *snort* Two months later, she gave birth in my closet floor. Three yellow and one gray stripe. She's a good little mother, the Princess. We had to cut cords on a couple of them but she did the rest of the work with us as Lamaze coaches. Lauren woke me up early yesterday to let me know that we were in labor :) My camera is broken so there's no pictures. Soon as SugarDaddy shows up I'm gonna ask him to buy me one for my 51st birthday.

Brought to you straight from the scene in Poopie's closet! I now have four new grandkitties, three yellow and one black. I'll be back later to pass out cigars :)

Well, praise the Lord and pass the mastic y'all. There are TILES on my bathroom wall finally. Not grouted, mind you. A bit crooked, sure. But they're there and I put those bad boys up myself. A big thunderstorm hit and knocked the power out right in the middle of it so I had to quit for the night before it was done. A wall is totally different from a horizontal surface..duh. They WILL slide right down that wall if you don't do it right. I'm just saying.

The huge storm last night was an exact replica of the one that woke me up early that same morning at 2AM. It is already unseasonally hot and humid here and the soupy air combined with the daytime heat has given the farmers mucho rain which will be appreciated in the long run, in spite of the mud right now. I swear, I can actually hear the crab grass growing out in the yard. It won't be long before I start dreaming my yearly fantasy of living in Canada during the summer. This old girl just doesn't do heat well..and the older I get the more pronounced that trait becomes. That and the arthritis my Daddy gifted me with :)

This piano will be leaving my house today, bound for the home of a fellow church member who lost hers in a house fire. She plays for worship services at the old folks home and misses practicing. Gotta find somewhere to put my car keys now...that's where I put them so I could always find 'em!

Still no kittens. She's getting ornery though, so it shouldn't be long.

^j^

"Love you Mom..that's the only reason I called. Whatcha doin'?"

"Working. You okay?"

"Faith and Butterbean got into a brawl when I came in this morning..both of 'em charging in ahead trying to be the first bitch in the house. They scared me!"

"We might need to call the Dog Whisperer *snort* I saw him on HER show yesterday.

"I screamed at them and Faith's lower lip was quivering just like people."

"Awwww...it's so hard to be Faith." "I gotta get to work Sugar. Later."

"Cya this afternoon...bye."

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

"I don't blame you Mom..really. It was a miserable marriage and we all knew that."

"I know. Love you back."

"Men are like, uh..really stubborn."

"Yeah."

"They really hate being pushed, ya know."

"Umm hmm. My experience is that they like for it to be their idea. When they run out of ideas there's a dry spell in the romance. Oh I'm not talkin' about gone forever or anything. Just, sometimes a gal needs to know she's appreciated and occasionally usually that's last on his list. I had no idea things would be as hard as they have been for you and I since the divorce. Maybe I should've just hunkered down and rode it out."

"No! It's all been for a reason. Look at how peaceful you are these days. Dad's gettin' the help he needs finally and I know what I want to do with my OWN life. You did what you had to do to stay sane and I'm glad that you had the balls to go for it."

"The entire time we were married, I felt that weight around my neck, slowly pulling me down. It was like I could feel the fact that our family was the only thing keeping him from self-destruction, and it wore me down, carrying that weight." "It's called co-dependency, by the way."

"Yeah, I know. Dad writes about it to me in his letters." "We're gonna be okay Mama."

"Yep. Good things come to those who keep the faith."

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

"MeMaw had another wreck. I'm on my way to the ER. Call you later."

"Is she okay????"

"Her foot is broken pretty badly. I'll let you know when I find something out. It loooks like a lot of weeks in a big cast.

"Oh well, she hates to get out in the summer anyway." *grinz*

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

"Where's my little girl? She needs to stay in the house until she has those babies."

" I just saw her...she's sleepin'."

"It's so cool to feel that new life wiggling inside of her. Those kittens are ready to take on the world!"

"So are we Sugars...so are we."

I've been a very bad b**gger lately and haven't visited all of you folks parked over there on the roll in quite some time. Yesterday afternoon found me catching up with old friends and sticking my hand up to play the letter game that I found at Cheryl's place. The rules for this game are: You take your assigned letter and then write 10 words that start with that letter and explain why they are important to you. If you would like to play, let me know in the comments field - and I'll assign you a letter. Cheryl wasted no time in granting me the letter S. Let the (word) games begin!

SMARTASS...I arrived at adulthood watching the masters do comedy on Saturday Night Live. Saw Steve Martin live with an arrow through his head back in the seventies. Taking life with a grain of salt and a smartass attitude is the only way to keep your sanity sometimes. It's "too bad" that so much of the world can't see the humor in life. It beats crying over spilled milk.

SOUL...Everybody has one and each is a unique conglomeration of where they have been and what they've experienced. Mine found maturity in the days of the anti-war protests of the sixties and early seventies. It was about peace and love y'all, and it still is. You know where I stand on today's issues. No further comment.*

SWEAT...It's what we do in the Southern states from April until November. During that time period it is pointless to spend time on makeup or hair because the stifling humidity will wreck the whole deal once you step out from under the AC. I don't MIND sweating when I'm doing something to work one up. It's the standing still sweat that drives me nuts. Hot flashes don't help.

SPIRIT...I believe in one true God who loves us dearly and wants what's best for us. One of my favorite sayings of all time is from a member of the Methodist church that I grew up in: " Leave room for the spirit to work." Let go of of those dang control issues and give it up. You ain't in charge. I learned that the hard way.

SERENDIPITY...The first time that I ever heard that word was on a roadtrip with some girlfriends. As we crossed the Mississippi River bridge in Memphis one night the sky lit up with a fireworks display out of nowhere. Sally defined that unexpected gift as serendipity. I recognize it clearly now when I see it.

SWEET...There is a monumental difference between being sweet and puttin' on airs that way. Southern girls are particularly adept at defining who is who in that respect.

SHAPELY...Alas. Poopie has always been Rubenesque and always will be. We're not talking fat, just non-skinny. I'm okay with that so please spare me your diet tips and gastric by-passes. If I could afford to eat orange roughy and spinach every day I would. Unless SugarDaddy shows up, that's not gonna happen. There is no breast reduction in my future, by the way.

STORM...Been there, done that and got a t-shirt from every tornado season for the past 50 years. The closest calls have come during the past four. I respect the power of nature and will hit the basement in a heartbeat.

STUBBORN...I'm like my Daddy in that respect. I pick my battles and stand up for what I really see as important, and when I do I hang on like a pit bull. see: previous multiple frustrated posts about operation iraqi f**kup. *okay so i lied, sue me!

SILLY...It's fun to be that way, and thus good for the soul. *snort* Check this guy out.

Anybody wanna buy a vowel?

I was invited to go the lake with friends this weekend but decided to stay at home because I've been feeling kinda puny with a cold. I have found that as I get older I'm reverting back to my teenage years with my sleep habits. Days off provide an opportunity to sleep until 9 or 10 and I can do it with no problem. That was not the case in my thirties and forties. I always woke up at the usual time and hopped up to do one of the five bazillion things that were on "the list" for that day. Heh. The ability to relax kind of makes up for the arthritis pain in my elbows that has come with turning fifty.

Yesterday was gorgeous..and I'm sure my buddies were fishin' at the lake. I put on a shirt that showed some skin and headed outside to even up the farmer's tan that has come from mowing the yard and such. I'm like a little kid when it comes to the water hose so I played with that for awhile spraying everything I could find with dirt on it, including Butterbean. She was not amused. Colored my hair (shut it, FTS) and cooked on the grill in between piddling here, there and yonder. Phase II of tiling is in the works with a hall counter and the bathroom coming up soon. After playing with a checkerboad pattern, I decided to go with all navy in the hall like I did in the kitchen. If I can ever get my dang camera to work, I'll share pictures. This house re-modeling is slow going but very satisfying work. Maybe someday I'll even get finished!

During the week my knowledge of what's happening in the news comes from TV or the internet. To me....buying two Sunday newspapers and sittin' with the dog to read them page by page is like heaven. With glasses, of course :) Today's local rag was filled with graduates' pictures and engagement announcements for summer weddings. It blows my mind to think that four years have passed since BabyGirl graduated from high school. There's been a lot of water under the bridge since then. And some over it too, as a matter of fact. Her daddy has gone from jail to rehab and is now in a half-way house with a job in a nearby town where he will stay for six months. It took losing everything, including his daughter, for him to hit the wall and start the slow climb back up. I hope he makes it, for her sake as well as his.

One of the wild hairs that got into me not too long ago has turned out to be a real joy. My bedroom had not been changed for the eighteen years that I've lived here and when we ripped up the last of the carpet in there, I moved the furniture around and began to make it my own little haven. The oak furniture remains, but the perspective is different. Totally.

Still no kittens yet, but they'll be here soon. Let me know if you want one!!

^j^

We're on maternity watch around here, with Princess Cali nearing delivery in a few days. I had forgotten how neat it is to live with a pregnant animal and be able to feel and see the movement of the babies. I suppose it's a prelude to becoming a grandparent, something that more and more of my friends and co-workers are turning into. They are an eclectic mixture of people with whom I have alternately cried, laughed and screamed just like with the blood kin. The few true friends that I claim came to me....some from childhood and others from my daily walk on the planet Earth. The common bond is that we have seen hard times together in various combinations of workmate and/or friend and advocate. We have learned how to be adults together through various peaks and valleys and have sometimes failed miserably at that goal. Scientists would call that "too bad." I'm not sure about the dung beetles.

During pivotal moments in my life Big Ernie has sent me a sign that whatever challenge is coming up will be 'jes fine because he's got my back. Not that it won't hurt or possibly suck a big one. Just that he'll be there to give me the strength. That's one of our favorite phrases here in the South, ya know. "Lawddd, gimme strength!" I watched some poor guy on HER show today who was sniveling about how he kept asking God to give him the strength and clarity to resist the temptation to cheat on his wife. The girlfriends jumped squarely in his face and told him that he should quit blaming the almighty for using his own free will. It was a gift, after all. The sign that usually comes to me is a well timed rainbow. I may not realize it at the time I'm gazing upward, but something is about to sneak up on my faith and there's that promise spread out across the sky saying "Keep the faith, Poops...it's gonna be okay." Occasionally there's a cool bird or drop-dead gorgeous sunset that reminds me of what's important outside of paying the bills and dragging through the days with no spirit of joy.
Whenever I see a snake, it's a warning that danger is ahead in some form. There have been several that I didn't recognize until I was already knee deep into the shit. Hey...it works for me, ummkay?

BabyGirl has chosen social work as a vocation after much trial and error. It is a well thought out choice by a woman who has all the potential to be as co-dependent as a wombat. Instead, her spirit has grown and rebelled against pain and suffering until she feels driven to make a difference in the world. I like that in a kid...especially mine :) It kinda of makes me think that at least pulled a B out of parenting 101. If you had asked me a year ago, I would have said "Lauren WHO?" I wore myself out somewhere in my thirties trying to run the world and opted instead to let it happen, make a small difference where I can and let go of the rest. That's the part I always have trouble with. The lettin' go crap.

My forgettable online experiences after the D-I-V-O-R-C-E were mostly shallow and fleeting. A couple of them are still friends but for the most part it was about men looking for a quickie. Blogging has been something from the wayyyyyyyy other end of the spectrum. Is it real or is it ??? Well..the best I can figure when an ex-engineer turned hairdresser calls you from the U-Haul on the way from Texas to live in the mountains, it's real. Same for the time when you call a new widow in South Carolina just so she knows you care. When a real live person travels from Oregon to Tennessee and sleeps with your dog...umm. That's real too. So are the times that you receive a hand-carved puzzle or feathery flip flops in the mail. A Valentine card from Iowa or a handmade thank-you from North Carolina. Yep. The real thing, baby.

Ain't nothing like it.

Some time ago Pirate introduced me to a song by Van Morrison and John Lee Hooker with that title. It instantly became one of my favorites of all time and a tune that I listen to when life seems to be playing the repeat loop on me with the hard times and all. Those times are getting fewer and farther between thanks to Big Ernie and his warriors. That would be y'all, y'all. BabyGirl's boyfriend John lost his dad a year ago yesterday. I didn't remember the date, nor did she. When I got home from work he was headed to the cemetary to chat with his old man. He returned a while later with red eyes and a clean spirit. Now, me and this boy love to do shit stuff outside and there was plenty of stuff to be done so we headed down the road to take care of some long overdue business with cleaning out the rest of his umm..stuff..from where he used to live. It's the other house on Pecan Lane at the dead-end, and sits on a bluff overlooking one of the sloughs in the woods. My brother and his wife used to live there too. In between brother's wives, the place was rented by a odd couple of anesthesiologists who worked at my hospital. There were never two more different business partners in this world. One of them, James, was a nature boy and that's how they landed here on the farm. Russell was his partner...a big man...who complained about how little the bathroom is. But that's a whole 'nother story.

Behind the house, there are three huge oak trees that must be about 150 years old. Harold cleaned up the trash under them before he moved to Virginia with his bride. When Hoss was here last week we did the tour of the lane and found that one of those big old oaks had just fallen over. Me and Gumby the b'friend climbed up in it on a break from yard work yesterday evening and talked about life and loss and looking ahead. After all, he's my kid just like she is and sometimes you just need to know that somebody cares.


It's all good.

^j^

Happy Mother's Day 2006

Last week when Hoss was here for a visit we were chattin' about where to go for dinner and he suggested Chinese...Mongolian Beef to be exact. Now, I'm sorry y'all, but on Thursday of lab week 2006 I ate enough Asian food to last me a lifetime. The dang cheapskate restaurant lady even gave us fortune cookies and mine wasn't worth a damn. God bless whatever vendor paid that big ass tab because I wasn't happy with my fortune. Keep the faith, it said. I was hoping for something along the lines of "True love will find you and bring the glass slipper and multiple orgasms. It will fit just right." Vicki told me that's what matters, and she's an expert on all things cerebral.

Anyhow, back to our story. Hoss had slept like a rock the night before and was ready for a drink, so I went to the liquor store to get some sour mash whiskey. Being a Tennessee girl and all, naturally Jack Daniels jumped out at me when Rebel Yell wasn't available for purchase at this particular store. I'm a beer kinda gal so I don't know about such things. We got all giggly drinking and talking and I suggested we might tour the farm in my trusty Toyota Camry. Hoss said that he was doin' whatever I was doing. Hoo boy...sucks to be him.

The river circles the entire farm and there are little sloughs here and there where the fishies bite right nice. I headed across the field to the closest one, oblivious to the fact that there had been a right smart of rain during the previous few days. I'm used to puddle jumpin' around here and we cruised right on over several before landing in the mud. Up to the axles of said Camry with three hubcaps. *shit* No cellphones on us and almost dark.

I left Hoss in the car with his fruit jar while I hoofed it the mile or so back to the house to call for a wrecker. Lowery's is just up the road a piece so I called them and dude said he'd be right there. The plan was for me to meet him at the end of Pecan Lane. Butterbean followed me when I struck out walkin' back down the road to meet wrecker guy. When I saw him speeding down the main road I started running and waving my arms to get his attention. I reckon it worked cuz he turned onto Pecan Lane. Poops hopped into the cab of the monster truck with flames painted on the cab and off we went with Butters right behind us. He had just washed the monster thing so he wanted to "walk it" to where the car was mired in the muck and rescue Hoss. Then he'd come back later with the little red wrecker and pull the car out. Me and dude and Butterbean struck off walking and met Hoss about halfway to the car. "Don't TOUCH me!" he said. "You left me here to DIE." Umm...okay FINE then. Why the hell did I come back?

About that time Butterbean spotted a skunk out in the field and started barkin' her fool terrier head off. I tried to bring her in but NooooooO. The little bitch kept on until she got sprayed real good for the first time in her young life. Hoss jumped in the cab for the ride home, insisting that Butterbean needed a ride too. Wrecker dude assured him that she would follow us, so I climbed onto the running board against the painted flames and held onto the door while skunk dawg brought up the rear. Don't believe that tomato juice hogwash, y'all. Old Poops has learned the hard way that peroxide + vinegar is the only thing that works. Butters got a good dose of it when we got back to the house. And so it goes.

We made up pretty quick, all three of us. Gene liked the pork tenderloin with honey mustard sauce and Butters survived the bath to sleep, de-skunked, next to her new best friend. All that drama just wore my old ass out so I went to bed in BabyGirl's room and said to hell with it. Slept like a pet rock.

Hossie woke up all smiles the next day when I took off to buy a new tire and breakfast so I could get him to the airport and off to Tish's where Texas and Arkansas meet.

It's so hard to be Butterbean.

The Merriam-Webster online definition of the word goes something like this:

1 a : a summons or strong inclination to a particular state or course of action; especially : a divine call to the religious life b : an entry into the priesthood or a religious order
2 a : the work in which a person is regularly employed : OCCUPATION b : the persons engaged in a particular occupation
3 : the special function of an individual or group

I find myself truly envious of those whose lives embrace all three of those alternative definitions with their life's work. While I am clinically trained and paid as a medical laboratory technologist, the work that I have done with a passion for many years is just a job..a way topay AT the bills, kinda sorta. That was not always the case. Earlier in my career my friendships, goals and be-all centered around a job for which I was not paid very well in spite of a stellar file tucked away in the HR department of the owner du jour. There have been three of them at last count.

Over the years my fantasies have led me on little side trips as I discovered what brings me joy. Sometimes, on bad work days, I've thought about trying to make a living doing something that I love. Research and study on things like greenhouse design and end-of-life care were diversions with a passion that yanked a knot in my soul and brought me to attention as I felt something other than obligation about a cause or activity. I learned new things by listening to my heart. Writing has been the same way for me. There's no money in it yet, but the clarity and life experience that I've gained have been enough to see me through the hardest of hard times in my life. Well, that and music. And books. And sunsets. And hugs.

Multi-task is a relatively new word, and one that most people understand through and through in today's fast paced world. Here are a few of the things that lie upon my plate, thirteen of them to be exact, because hey....it's Thursday :)

Mother
*
Political activist
*
Smartass
*
Friend
*
Employee
*
Admirer
*
Daughter and sister
*
Amateur photographer and writer
*
Nature lover
*
Southern gal
*
Good cook
*
Music freak
*
Keeper of the faith


That's my story....and I'm stickin' to it.

Faith is alive and well and snoozin' on my bed! I got a call at work today from a guy who works the night shift at UPS, about a mile and a half ACROSS the four lane highway from us. "I think I've got your dog." While working 3-11 at UPS he spotted Faith wandering around the lot and took her in to keep her from getting run over. He said " I could tell she was well cared for and belonged to someone." Thanks to the rabies tag on her collar, all he had to do was call the vet's office to locate her owner. I believe that that suspicious car DID in fact pick her up, but somehow she got away or they had second thoughts and let her go. She has never ever gone that far away before. Thanks for all of the well wishes and prayers. As promised, I'll share the story later of how this little brown bundle of joy became a part of our family.

Keep the faith. ^j^

As I was coming home at dusk from a meeting at work, I passed a strange car on my little dead end lane coming from the direction of my house. I slowed to see who it was and didn't recognize the driver, a young girl. The car kept going and as I looked behind me I saw a hand wave mockingly out of the back window as it moved away from me. When I pulled into the driveway, I noticed that only Butterbean was there to greet me, but assumed that Faith was inside. She was not. There is no doubt in my mind that that evil wave out the back window was from the person who stole her from our little family.

I want to cry almost as bad as I want to kick some ass but I've cried so much during the past few weeks that the tears won't come right now. I'm just speechless at the amount of random evil in this world.

We named her Faith because of the way that she came to us. I'll share that another time, hopefully if when she returns. In the meantime, I'll echo Monty's sentiments on dog thieves: "When I find the rat bastard....I weel keel him sloooowwww."

*sniff sniff* I still have a tear or two spilling out now and then after leaving my good friend Gene in the hands of a kind hearted Delta employee. You know how us girls are...we cry over every damn thing. Hoss's visit to my little burg was a stop on his whirlwind tour of b**g country USA. And so it goes....

Hoss is an animal lover like myself. His eyes lit up like sparklers when he realized how many critters we've got around. His first night here, he went to sleep with one cat and woke up with a different one. Last night Butterbean finally warmed up to him enough to sleep curled right next to his butt, just like she does with me. That mental picture of those two waking up to greet me with smiles this morning is one that will stay burned in my mind forever.

Alas, I don't have wireless sooooooo....we shared time on my desktop PC while he was at Casa Poopie, but there wasn't so much time for b**gging. We talked and laughed and identified birds. We cried and hugged and discussed life. We had some drinks and ate some good food and visited my parents and my roommates, who were all charmed. There were newspapers and baseball games and two fried eggs, over medium plus one piece of toast.

I'll save the story of our adventures in the mud for another time. I've got a feeling he can tell it better than me.

Hossie 1-Poopsie 1.

We're even,'cuz I love U 2. Scientists would file that under "very good."

^j^

...and is sitting quietly on the couch reading the paper. Butterbean adores him and I do believe it's mutual. I must say, that I have a lot of admiration for the boy and his determination to see this cross country adventure through. When I first saw that smiling face and grabbed him for a hug, it was big enough for all of y'all. Really. We met at my friend's antique store/southern tea room in a nearby town. Thanks to my good friend who runs an airport limo service on the side *wink wink*

Driving down Pecan Lane on the way home, we marveled over the beauty of all of it...he for the first time and me for the kazillionth time. Life doesn't get much better than natural beauty. Eye candy for the soul, so to speak.

Tomorrow we will explore the farm and rest up for the next leg which involves yet ANOTHER flight to Tish's place. Lord, I hope Buford doesn't show up. Hoss might have to kick his toothless butt.

Ain't the internets amazing? Yes, Poopsie. It's a small world indeed.

Everybody who works very closely with me knows that when I say that it means " WTF are you thinking?!" I reserve the sacred remark for situations of dire stupidity and dumbassedness, kinda like John Boy and Billy's Stupid Crook News. We sit around the table at lunch or breakfast and talk about stuff and generally appreciate how good life is in spite of the aches and pains and dramas. A second degree separation from the powers that be puts me in a place that I've not been in quite some time...I don't have to answer the phone or wonder about who's the Alpha Male.


*you thought i'd slam him, didn't ya?*

Over time my list has included Terri Schiavo's harem and whatever guy said "Let's go kick some ass." I hate Hitler and Al-whathisname and all the rest of the bad guys. I love my dogs, 'cuz they're my babies and they lick my tears away when I'm sad. The cats are o.k.a.y but high maintenance. That doesn't exactly fit into my current fantasy.


He would hold me when I'm sad until it passes.
*
Either a mighty fine cook or able to buy some good food. Footnote: America is fat because eating healthy is expensive.
*
Buy me a candle. Nothing says romance like a slow burn.
*
Loves dogs.

* * * * *

My life has been filled with so many little two or three act plays..ones that begin here and wander there until the next story begins. Co-workers have come and gone and stayed until that's a story unto itself. There's an interesting sort of fellow there who might get written in at a later time.

Family is front and center right now. BG and BF are doing their part and I'm glad to be on a team again. Mom still has the cast so I reckon we'll serve her Mother's Day dinner to her recliner ;) My brothers and I communicate talk frequently. That's a good thread to follow. My cousin's hubby recently was wounded badly in Iraq. His Daddy's remarks were as follows: "I'd like to march right up to Washington and tell 'em ALL to go to hell." It's sooo not about them. This too shall pass, so sayeth Mr. Billy the furniture store guy from church. He and wifey are part of the Sunday School class that care so well for each other. That's not peculiarly Methodist, mind you. More small-groupish, if you will. Mom and Daddy had food for two weeks and we enjoyed it too. Those people? Nah, I'd never hate them.

*Breaking News*
I have declared war on dust around this old house. That's a mighty risky proposition in an 85 year old masterpiece but,hey. I couldn't breathe. All of the carpet is gone and I'm taking applications for slave boys to finish the floors. We'll deal later with the fact that I live smack in the middle of a farm where there's freaking dirt flyin' everywhere.

It's doing the spring thunderstorm thing around here. Four years ago this week I missed gettin' hit by the big one that tore the 'Burg up one side and down the other. That was when I wrote the letter by candlelight. A female voice answered the phone and I hung up quickly and began to scribble these words:

"Hey chief." "I was so scared that I would die tonight and never have the chance to tell you." He was polite and obviously didn't trust me..thought I was some kind of golddigger appealing to his stupid male side. I've read Mars and Venus, TYVM.

* It's raining like a mofo! *

It all started with breakfast at work. What better way to start the day than with a woman who adores you???? "Cheap date," he said. Uh huh. That was my life's story. He was so damned cute I couldn't resist one more try with the bad boy. SJ says that little men have this thing they do where they have to go all ape shit and cocky because somebody stands taller than them. The Little Man Syndrome.

After the storm, my friends Rae and K let me stay in thier house while they were out of town. I began to heal that week, from the pain of living in a marriage with an addict. The entire time that we were married and raising BabyGirl I could feel the weight of "the family" being the only thing that kept him from self-destruction. It was damn heavy, and I wanted more.

Next dispatch forthcoming.

^j^

Where would yours be if you could anywhere? Mine would have beaches and mountains, preferably both. It has taken me four days of un-winding slowly to lose the work frame of mind and sink into self indulgence mode. Meandering from here to there, tying up loose ends and enjoying the freedom to just piddle have been more than wonderful for me. It's just what I needed at precisely the right time.

Sunday afternoon, me and YaYa and Robert took to her yard with a shovel and loaded up boxes of stuff for me to transplant. I got 'em in the ground before the rain too. Heh. See how little it takes to entertain a country girl? I have a man slave for a week, BabyGirl's boyfriend is doing stuff to the house for me which is, might I add, heavenly. I've missed having a fellow around to do "guy stuff." I have visited my folks, wandered around aimlessly with the camera and shot sunset pics of my favorite flowers. There has been beer. MUCH beer :) Beer is good for us, dontcha think?

The luxury of ironing and folding my grandmother's linen napkins and lace tablecloths is something that only an old soul can appreciate. As the oldest grandchild, I was entrusted with a lot of her things that I pass on to the other grandchildren on special occasions.

A lovely gentleman is coming to pay me a visit in a couple of days. I hope that he will understand that I didn't get the bathroom tiling done. Or the paint either for that matter. Scientists would file that under "too bad." The hardwood floors remain unstripped, but I can see them there egging me on to finish the job. Later.

Right now it's all about me, and I could get used to that.

Oh yeah. Remember that cute little cat I picked up in the hospital parking lot in the fall? Yep. She's knocked up. Anybody want a kitten?