Me and BabyGirl have been talkin' a lot lately about how people get to be who they are and we've decided that some folks just have a genetic defect that makes them act like a butt with a big fat B, capitalized. We believe that this is just "not acceptable" in a world filled with light and grace and love waiting to be put into action.

I have certainly spent quality time in the trenches with "the least of these" as JC would say. More often than not, they gave more to me than I could ever think of giving them. That's the joyful thing about reaching out and walking in another's shoes for a day. At the end of the journey, you have another perspective on life to add to your own and if all goes well, there is peace on earth in your soul knowing that you did the right thing with conviction. Sometimes that might mean throwing money into the coffer. At other times, well. It's all about walkin' the walk. Tell us about your walk of faith.

^j^

For future reference y'all, always take a shower right after you come out of the corn field. Cuz if you don't, the chiggers will feast on your lovely soft middle aged body and the next day shall be hell as you discover yourself all whelped up from neck to feet. *scratch scratch* I'm just sayin'.

Oh and Big Ernie? Thanks for sparing my head. And the corn is good. Amen, dig in.

There are certain things that just scream summer to me, and I've managed to enjoy several of them today while away from the sawmill. When I was out mowing this morning I noticed that my stargazer lily is blooming. They used to be everywhere, but now there's a single plant with multiple blooms. I snipped one off and enjoyed the aroma while I was in the kitchen cleaning peaches and cream corn in the ancient porcelain sink. Daddy showed me where the ready corn was yesterday but I had on shorts and was umm...shall we say...anxious to get out of Mr. Snake's territory with my bare legs. I went back today with jeans on and got all I wanted. Luckily it was cool enough to sit outside under the back yard maple tree cross-legged, shuckin' those ears and enjoying the day.

Fireworks stands are popping up around here about as quick as Methodist revivals. My parents always told me time would move more quickly as I got older. Damn if they weren't right. Baby brother and his bride are here from Virginia for a visit. We sat outside and watched yesterday's sunset in all its' glory from the coolest spot on the farm. The cicadas, or "ree-a-rees" as we call them, were all tuned up and ready to sing. Then we ate fresh grilled produce from the garden. Doesn't get much better than that.

Y'all might remember that my cousin Debbie in Kentucky has recently become a chicken farmer. On day one of the adventure, Ronnie's dog killed a hen. She's been giving me frequent chicken updates by phone and today's bulletin goes like this:" The pullets have been eatin' the eggs that the hens lay which is sooooo counter-productive to the whole raising chickens thing. The solution? Have those young girls practice sitting on plastic Easter eggs." I kid you not. More later from the girls and their roosters. I can't wait to hear about the banty struttin' in all his glory. Little guys do tend to have that syndrome, ya know.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...my dining room table is topped with a bouquet of summer's best flowers consisting of blackeyed susans, tiger lily, daisies and some other stuff that I don't know the name of but looks pretty. And I'm headed to take a nice long bubble bath and shave my legs.

One never knows when one might get lucky.

*wink wink*

Coming off of siesta today I struggled to wake up. There was somebody there in the mist urging me to keep going and believing in good things. I distinctly remember the comfort of my bed under me with Butterbean on the pillow next to my face. Weary, that's the word for this old gal.

I will be away for a while living my life and taking more frequent naps. If the spirit moves, I'll post at The Dew

Y'all keep the faith. ^j^

As y'all know, I don't get into the big city very much, but today was an exception. Some co-workers and I buzzed down Highway 51 South to Memphis for continuing education of the laboratory kind presented by a vendor with which we do mucho business, as in we will soon have number three of their very expensive analyzers all up in the house. The conference was held at Mud Island , right smack on the banks of the Mighty Mississippi about 100 yards from where Tennessee becomes Arkansas in the middle of the muddy water. I stood outside during breaks and watched tugs do their business up and down the river while enjoying the breeze. There is an outdoor amphitheater there as well where they used to have some nice concerts under the stars....I saw James Taylor and Bruce Hornsby and the Range back in the day when it was a happenin' concert venue. The sessions were all informative and interesting. One of the presenters was a pathologist from West Virginia who had ridden her Harley all the way there. When we chatted in the restroom she was changing clothes for the ride home. No leathers today. The heat index was about 110 in the shade. Later on we dropped by for some world famous Rendezvous ribs as Elvis kept watch from the wall behind our table. Still in the building ;) The waiters are a rowdy bunch who make fun of folks who don't know how to eat ribs properly, like with sauce and dry rub smeared all over your face and under your fingernails. I swear, I still smell like pork. The dogs are sniffin' me like they haven't eaten in a week year.
Daddy was up here last night and snapped a couple of kitty shots since my camera is broken. They're almost four weeks old and will be going to their new homes soon, umm. Except for the black one. He's staying with the rest of the critters here at the zoo.

Meow and woof...over and out. ^j^

According to the way our earth twirls, today is the longest day of the year. I could have sworn on my grandma's grave that it was yesterday. Let me explain briefly. We all know how "situations" at work, when unresolved, can turn into ummm, shall we say, shit waitin' to happen. Such a situation has been simmering for about a year and a half between certain members of certain departments where I work just waiting for the match to be dropped and break the whole deal into flames. I was busy working early yesterday when the carrier of the match walked into the mayhem. Now, normally I am the most easy going laid back gal you'd ever hope to meet, even in times of crisis. He pushed the button though, that spot where emotional weariness and anger meet. As my voice grew louder and louder and I started pointing my finger for emphasis I felt the slow burn turn into a raging inferno. And then, I did what any self respecting mature fifty year old professional woman would do in such a situation. I started shaking....and crying. ACK! Someone told me later that day that I should quit "crying over things and get mad!" My response was that when I get THAT mad, I cry. There's no controlling it, even when I want to. Sorry guys, but it's an involuntary response that is as much a part of my psyche as bein' a smartass southern girl. I'm not trying to manipulate or get sympathy. It's kind of like a safety valve to keep me from blowing a gasket, I reckon. Y'all wouldn't want me to have a stroke would you???????
Needless to say, after a start like that things could only get better. My friend YaYa has a bunch of folks coming in to celebrate her oldest daughter's wedding this weekend so I went out after work for a sleepover/beer drinking/housecleaning session. I am now officially the meanest friend on earth because I made her throw some stuff away :) We took a break from the grunt work long enough to enjoy a bubble bath with her two year old grandson at the center of the action. Bubbles got blown all over that bathroom at Poopie, YaYa and Carnie his GREAT grandma, accompanied by raucous giggles of delight. There's nothing like playin' with a little kid to put things in perspective and keep the faith.

^j^

Y'all would just die if you could see these baby kittens fallin' all over themselves learning to ambulate and live outside of that cocoon of a closet they've been in for three weeks. Cute ain't the word...it's more like precious. Faith is absolutely fascinated with the new roommates and lays beside the closet door waiting for the Princess and her court to parade out onto the hardwood for her pleasure. In actuality, I think she wants her own babies. She'll be a swell mom once we find a suitable stud.

It's amazing to me how animals teach each other how to be. Cali is teaching the kittens how to grow up and Faith is watching Cali learning how to be a mother when her time comes. She's three years old this summer and mature enough to handle it now. * twenty one in dawg years * At the hospital I see little thirteen year old girls delivering screaming young 'uns when they're just babies themselves. I wouldn't lie to you about that stuff.

I also see the elderly and otherwise very sick seeking solace as they head toward their peaceful place. They're all scared of death...the little ones and the oldsters and the ones who are in between. They're afraid it will hurt or be scary. My experience has been that Big Ernie provides angels PRN in the form of doctors, nurses and allied health professionals. That last deal is the whole rest of the bunch besides the ones you see on the front line. They include dieticians, social workers, x-ray techs, lab rats, respiratory therapists and a bazillion other kinds of specialized vocations. Chaplains are cool like that,too, as well as the funeral home folks and the transplant team and the volunteers who transport for free. Everybody has a job to do and if they work together the job gets done the way Big Ernie intended. If not, well. Sucks to be the patient.

Surgeons are the worst egomaniacs in the world. It reminds me of the old joke about how many of 'em it takes to change a lightbulb. Only one...and the rest of the world twirls around him while he holds it.

Y'all keep the faith. ^j^

And give some blood. Last I heard that fake stuff doesn't work too well.

All I ever wanted from you was to be a daddy's girl. You know, the kind that can crawl up in your lap and feel safe and loved. I know it was a struggle to make ends meet and that you worked all the time to support us, and I appreciate the effort. Every time I plant something I think about you giving me the faith that believes in the miracle of birth, growth, death and renewal.

It took me many years to realize why you were so angry. Mom explained to me gently over time where you came from and how you didn't know how to love because you had never felt it yourself until you met her. She's an angel like that. I'm grateful that you never hit me or physically harmed me, but your words wounded me on a regular basis. Nothing kills a kid's self esteem quicker than feeling stupid and not good enough, especially a girl child. The therapists helped me to get past that and find forgiveness. The ex used to put me down that way too. Eventually I learned that folks who feel big at the expense of others are pretty sad and not a threat unless you let them be. I noticed a change in your demeanor when BabyGirl was born. She loves you fiercely and on her own terms.

I suppose it's just a thing...what we think we've needed and never got. We discover what the wounds are and heal them ourselves with the help of other pilgrims. We remember the good times and rejoice over the day to day blessings like growing up in paradise. The closest I've ever come to deckin' you were the times that you put HER down in front of us kids. That is just wrong, on so many levels.

It's okay though..I love you anyway. Maybe in heaven you'll tell me first.

Picture this, if you will. I'm sitting here in my "girls just wanna have fun" nightshirt listening to "that 70's show" on TV and happy as a pig in mud to be home alone with the sleeping Faith snorin'on my bed in all of her choco-lab glory. In the words of Captain Lee, my retired pharmacist friend..."I'm tired as if I'd been ironing." Weary is more like it.

The kitties are beginning to wobble out of the closet when Mama Cat gives them the pep talk to get offa her tits and out of the box. I suppose some would call it bitching. My opinion is that she just wants her life back.

Meeting mania week is finally over. I seriously have to wonder what kind of twisted mofo would schedule a meeting at 3PM on Friday afternoon..out-of-town when he could just do a newsletter or get his newly hired administrative assistant to do something besides pass out cards and security badges. Way back in another life I was a clinical instructor for her lab students. Come to think of it, the bitch reminds me of Risible Girl's quiet car nazi. I can't wait to research her habits and report back to Dr. Lori on my findings. If only Tracfone had a camera model I could kill two birds with one stone.

Did I say TGIF?

While I was passing time in the dentist's chair this afternoon Bill Gates and company streamed live from Washington to CNN with an important announcement. Seems that Hoss's buddy is going to call it quits two years from now. Of course he's not been CEO of Microsoft for some time, but chief of R&D where they invent new versions of Windows to annoy us with. Also, it keeps Dell in business so that they can continue to prey on the innocent consumer who doesn't read the fine print. It's almost time to buy laptops for college! Yay! they say.

Gates is the same age as myself, half a century old. As I watched, the analysts spouted forth opinions about the strength of the company and how this strategic move will affect the market, i.e. your retirement money. It got me to thinkin' about how the stocks would react if Poopsie just said to hell with healthcare and took off on a boat to Fiji like Truman did. I don't imagine anybody on Wall Street will have a heart attack or anything *snort* None of it makes a damn to me because I cashed in the old 403b so I could survive post-divorce. No rollover to 401K there, dude. I reckon it was a good investment because I'm still kickin' four years later.

It never was about the money for me, which is a mighty good thing. It's always been about the patient and their family and serving them well. You don't always save a life, but you can always make a difference in some little way.

To: Big Ernie
From: Poopie
Re: Life as I Know It

Dear Big Guy,

Yep, it's me again. Thanks for the plateau period where things weren't exactly great but nothing went drastically wrong. I'll take plateau over peaks and valleys any day because, well. I'm too old to be doing that up and down crap without SugarDaddy. Please see the following items that indicate to me that a slide is about to begin again:

a. The riding mower won't engage the new blades. At all.
b. That little light on the console in my car that has *never* come on before
is now red.
c. Faith disappeared again and was returned to me yesterday by some guy with a
shop right next to the major-busy-highway.
d. The kid is intending to start back to college again in two months. An hour
away. With no vehicle. And no financial aid because her mom is "middle
class"..working middle class. Which is one bill away from working poor.
e. My friends are leaving Friday for Gulf Shores, my favorite beach.
I haven't been anywhere in three years except to the hardware store and
work. Can we work on that while I can still get there?
f. Sex? I'd settle for being held by someone with whom I am comfy. That
makes it easier to cry and let it out so I can keep on jousting at
windmills and being the *faithful* one.
g. Work is not bad right now. Thanks for the way you balance things out
like that.

There are some folks I'd like for you to give a little extra blessing to because times are changing for them too. Pardon me for not placing bullets before my petitions. You know everything so you can figure what they need without my editing.

This wedding is coming up soon. They've been patient and kind and loving. That's the kind of marriage I'd like to have someday.

Mom has graduated from a full cast to a boot. She still can't put weight on the foot and has a long way to go, but she's got Daddy right by her side. Her sis, Aunt Granny, is all banged up from a major fall. Gettin' old is definitely not for wimps, except maybe Moses and Noah.

Jennifer is working her way through a huge disappointment and is writing like the champ that she is. Thanks for introducing her to me early in my b**gging career.

I've been thinking a lot about Phyllis because I know those painful feelings of loss and grief all too well. She's slowly and surely discovering her life without Donnie and I'm experiencing every minute of it with her. Virtually, of course.

Vicki and her family finally found a bit of closure inn the loss of their dear Janet. The picture posted at her place says faith to me like none other I've ever seen.

There's this tough broad named Jules down in Texas who has discovered the therapeutic power of burnin' shit like I do. She's gonna' be a teacher...a damn good one.

Several of my friends are gathering in Colorado soon to meet and greet. If you could, please hold the price of gas below three bucks for them. They're workin' folks just like me and you.


P.S. Sorry about that tithing thing. I'm paying as I go.

P.S.S. Thanks for all the people who make me smile. You know who they are :)

I stumbled upon this jewel on VH1 last night and was instantly transported back to my childhood and teenage years. If you "missed out" on this particular era, you might want to look back at what was going on in the rest of the world while you turned your head and scoffed at hippies. If you were a part of it....well. It's a must see. Jackson Browne, The Beatles, Jimi Hendrix, Country Joe McDonald, Janis Joplin. If you don't recognize at least one of those names, hurry right along to the next b**g.

Just like when Elvis started swinging those hips around during the fifties, the sixties provided a stellar opportunity for conservative America to say *tsk tsk* and shake their heads in disapproval at the folks who didn't fit into a mold. Scare tactics like "Reefer Madness" did little to stop an entire generation of people from passing the hooter and droppin' a little windowpane for the sake of "art." Except for the ones who chose IV opiates instead, most of them grew up to be law abiding citizens who still like a toke on occasion before they hit the golf course or out to dinner. Sure..it's STILL illegal. But there are other more ominous drugs to be worried about in this day and age.

Back then, it was all about peace and love and hanging out. Good music..psychadelic art and paisley ruled. Granny dresses and glasses, long hair on both sexes, incense and hanging beads. It was about experiencing things, and a heightened awareness of those experiences. Timothy Leary became famous for espousing the benefits of LSD for spirituality. "Take a trip, man!" I tried it a couple of times but didn't like the out-of-control type of feeling that it gave me. Even as a hippie, I was a control freak ;) It was all about chillin' out and feeling the love of a group hug except for an occasional riot when somebody got mistreated.

Today's drug culture focuses on speed and performance as a lifestyle. Cocaine and meth are popular because you can go stronger and longer in pursuit of a good time or working to earn a buck. More is better, whether it's 90 hours at work or 90 hours of partying. This, frankly, disturbs the hell out of me. What happened to peace and love dude? Crack addicts will do anything and I mean ANYTHING for a rock. Same for chicken heads and their bumps. Shoot a kid..rob a grandma...sell the soul and the body. Nothing is sacred but the high. And the bitch of the whole thing is this...it's never the same after that first time. At least that's what I've been told. I'm enough of a scaredy cat to admit that I've never tried either. Too afraid I'd like it. Ditto for heroin.

So many folks, even today, seek to criminalize drug use rather than search for answers to the problems that cause abusive behavior patterns. Things like hopeless living conditions and easily fleeced government assistance programs. Send the DEA out to bust those poor dying souls who need a little THC for nausea and you send this message: "Drugs are bad, umkay?" How about we spend some of those salaries on programs to give some folks a chance to live a different life? I know...I'm such a liberal commie. I'm not talking "entitlement" kinds of things. I'm simply suggesting that the gap be reduced between the haves and the have nots. Nothing breeds abuse like despair and lack of hope. Unfortunately, corporate America offers hefty doses of both.

That is not who I am, as a child of the sixties. My hippie self doesn't wear granny glasses or go barefoot much anymore. She just wants to see something good happen for a change in the land'o'plenty. A little more fun and a bit less hatred and judgemental behavior. A lot less war and a whole bunch more live and let live while helping out a friend or neighbor.

"Who is my neighbor?" they asked of Him.

Peace out, y'all.




"Be your own hero." Peter Coyote

Got your attention didn't I? I swear I got an e-mail from there sent especially to his spam harem. Old Poops has never been across the pond...or much across the Mighty Mississipi, for that matter. Howdy quotes C.S. Lewis on occasion and frequently tells corny jokes and Bible verses in cursive. Lemme know if you want to join his list. *snort* In other news, the lil' ho of a cat mother of my kittens seems to be in heat again ALREADY. Not that I don't sympathize and all, but damn. More money in the vet's pocket for population control. The closet kittens are only two weeks old and she's already on the prowl for a tom. Bless her heart. Today was Meeting!Monday! It seems that our department staff meetings are always scheduled on the same day as the "yayayaya" meeting that lasts forever at lunch and everybody's bored and why the hell won't she shut.the.hell.up and let us read the report later and get back to work. Lookin' on the bright side, the temp never topped 85 today so it wasn't too hot to grill some chicken and tenderloin this evening. I marinated the meat in Italian dressing and soy sauce, and added some honey mustard later on. Yum yum. I seldom waste a fire on just one thing at a time. Grilling is better pour moi when I can cook up a week's worth of stuff to enjoy.

No news on the hunt for SugarDaddy. *sigh* One would think that as long as I've been faithful to the cause I'd be gettin' warm, at least. Nah. It's just me and BabyGirl hanging out and focusing on getting her back to school soon. As Martha would say "It's a good thing." Butterbean just says "woof."

It's so lonely being a kudzu kween.

^j^

Anything above 80 degrees just wears me out, so I reckon I'm living in the wrong place. West Tennessee is famous for heat'n'humidity that will kick your sweaty ass way before the first official day of summer dawns all hot and hazy. Forget the camera...I'm taking up donations for the utility bill.

Me and my girlfriends met at the kudzu bar last night and had a ball talkin' trash and pumping up our girl power. It's such a simple concept, yet so many don't get it. Gals just wanna have fun, ya know? This particular joint was an after-work hangout for working guys for years and years, run by Buttercup and her other half Gene. They sold the place to Bev and Terry last year, kudzu and all, and I must say that it's lookin' good. The bathrooms are clean for a change...with tile and everything. There's some nice oak tables and plasma TVs. And of course the karoke is to die for :) The young'uns show up just about the time us old folks are ready to head for home and the bed.


Our group of exceptionally hot babes formed a secret kudzu society, with vows to meet again on a regular basis. PaPa Tom's chalice was passed and we each drank from it, between beers, remembering who we are. We sang Mercedes Benz acapella and danced like fools with the baseball games playing on TV. Bev fired up the karoke and Ruby belted out a great one that she knew word-for-word. Debbie took pics with her phone after YaYa and Renee went out and hauled her ass up in there to join the fun.

Me and Redneck Friend chatted about life during a lull in the action. We've seen some tough life things together, me and her. I first met her there years ago when the cast was younger and better looking. We seem to end up hugging at the cemetary together, like true friends will do.

Full moon tonight. Y'all enjoy, and keep the faith.

^j^

TaDaaaaaaaaaaaa! I am officially retired from the tedious business that sprang from YaYa's generous donation of her leftover navy and gray ceramic tile. Actually I think she just wanted the boxes out of her garage so b'friend's boat would have more room:) I can be such a stubborn bitch perseverant soul when I set my mind to a goal, and this one has been nagging at me for months. After work today, I finally finished the bathroom backsplash. If you are ever sittin' on my potty and think to yourself " Gee...those grout lines are crooked as hell" please don't say it out loud. I might have to shoot you and that would be bad. I'd hate to have to clean blood off of that brand new tile. Alas, no pictures because SugarDaddy hasn't come through with a camera yet. Don't you wish you could see those cute widdle baby kittens????

Here's what it looked like before. I'm thinking the walls will be pale yellow or coral. It's been lookin' this way for a year or so until the spirit moved me to slap some tile and primer over that mess. Actually the spirit said " OK then...ain't it time for some home improvment in THIS tacky room???"

Speaking of kittens..the babies have their eyes wide open now but they're still hangin' out in my closet in a cluster. Princess Mama Cali leaves them alone for longer periods and gets out to enjoy some solitude now and then but we're far from an empty nest. I was wondering out loud why I never see any pee or poop in there when BabyGirl pointed out a possibility I never thought about. I'm glad I didn't have to do that with her.

I guess y'all heard on the news where Al-JaBadGuy got the crap bombed out of him and his little posse. The really scary thing, to me, is that there are a bazillion other evil clones ready to step up and take the mantle from him. It's time for it to be over. We will not win that one because, well. They hate us.


Read today that our old buddy the dung beetle king is on the road again, as Willie would sing. I've still got ten bucks worth of Jack here, genius whiz. Love ya...mean it.

That's all we know in PoopieLand. How about y'all?

^j^

I faced the sunset this evening from the swing that was my Mother's Day gift ten years or so ago. The girl doggies tend to be couch potatoes unless I'm out and about keeping them company while they chase moles and disappear into the tall growth of the pasture. They come right back when it's time to eat.

I seem to have lost that part of me...the one who knows how to relax and enjoy the moment. Could be because I've been in survival mode for four years what with becoming a middle aged single woman and all. Kid in college and then not and soon to be again...this time on her own steam and personal dime. When I made the decision to divorce my hub, there were no dreams of high living or frivolity. I was madly in love with a guy who did not return my affection. And so it went.

The guilt and angst that accompanied the decision followed me relentlessly as I watched the whole deal go to hell in a handbasket. I had counted on BabyDaddy word that he would help with the basics for a college gal, but that never happened. Instead, he partied with she and her friends as they tried desperately to save him from himself. It seems like years ago.

There is a fine line between being an angel and becoming the devil. The stuff of angels is made of faith and hope and, sometimes, tough love. Devils just want company in their misery and feed off of negativity to fuel the eternal fire. "It can't be done." "What are you thinking??" "Don't make waves." "Do you honestly think you can make a difference?"

I do. What about you?

^j^

At around dusk yesterday I was outside grillin' and watching the lightning bugs put on a little production over the pasture. The aroma of honey mustard sizzling on the boneless chicken mingled with the smell of steak as I pondered the fireflies. That sent me down memory lane to my days as a child when we caught them in jars and brought 'em into the dark bedroom for summer entertainment until the wee hours. I remembered ditches filled with spring rains providing minnows and crawdads to capture. And then, this morning, I read a post that inspired beyond words to share a few of the memories that are distinctly about growing up Poopie.

Summers were long endless days of lazy escape from town and school. Daddy always put in a big garden and we often helped pick the purple hull peas and other veggies. Yellow crook neck squash, peaches and cream corn and always....always tomatoes. Summer evenings were spent in front of the black and white TV shelling limas and purple hulls until our thumbs turned black. Mama would stay up until the wee hours putting the produce up in cans, jars and freezer bags after blanching it. Later on he bought one of those semi-automatic purple hull pea shellers where you feed 'em through. It saved us a lot of purple thumb bleaching.

Cows and horses need hay in the winter so somebody would come out and clip the pastures and bale it up. Daddy drove the tractor pulling the trailer and my brothers would pitch it up while I rode above the big old tractor tire right next to the real farmer I called Dad. Once upon a time I got mad and ran away from home...All the way to the tree line a half mile behind our log cabin. My wise parents let me hoof it to the back forty carrying a suitcase filled with essentials like peanut butter and jelly and a family picture. Cousin Deb was with me and the boys as we traveled. We noticed the cows congregating as they tend to do, and she jumped right up on the fence post and stripped off her red shirt and waved it at 'em. Needless to say, the entire entourage ran like hell for home.

Deb called from Kentucky today to tell me the latest news. Her boyfriend, a country boy through and through, bought some chickens up the road and hauled 'em home to roost so they could have fresh eggs. Since it was kind of a short notice brainstorm, they kicked the dogs out of the pen and made a temporary roost. All went well until the German short hair got a-hold of the pretty little hen who didn't know any better than to land on the dog's side of the fence. Poor thang never had a chance. If she'd been a quail or pheasant the outcome might have been different.

Last I heard, Ronnie was out back plucking off the feathers. I reckon his dawg saved him the trouble of wringing her neck.

Trust me y'all....it ain't pretty. Today was a work day for me and I wandered around for the first four hours not quite sure what planet I was on. Must be from all the quality time spent in the basement with the boy roommate. We're slowly but surely sifting through his *life* in boxes and getting the place cleaned up and half-ass organized. There's a lotta mold down there. And dirt. And spiders. And cobwebs. We shall overcome them all in baby steps.

I'm not quite sure if the hot flashes are "those" kind or just the summer-in-TN variety. Whatever the cause, my lovely brow is usually beaded up with sweat unless there's a fan or AC vent blowing directly on me. Like I said before, forget the hair and makeup during the summer months in the South. Just put on a spandex top and shorts and make the best of it until Halloween.

I was out watering the flowers a while ago and realized how very much I miss my camera. IF that recruitment bonus materializes in August, that will be the first thing I look for. And it won't be Kodak this time around. The yard is close to full bloom right now with daylilies, daisies and all manner of flora vying for the prize as eye candy of the day. The hostas are about to bloom as well. I've got this crazy anal retentive aunt who chops the bloom stalks off of her hosta because it gets on her nerves all stickin' out there. Sheesh..thank goodness that's not hereditary.

That bonus money will come in handy around October when I plan to fly to Virginia to visit my brother and his wifey for the first time since they moved two years ago. They always drive back home through West VA and Kentucky, but it's a good twelve hours and I hate.to.drive with a passion. They live close to Walton's Mountain which was the highlight of my parents' trip there last year. We always were big Walton's fans and still hold the values close to our hearts.

Goodnight John Boy.

^j^

I gotta tell you....my faith is restored and I'm not kiddin'. Each and every one of you has given me cause to ponder the sanctity of a spiritual connection with a life partner. Okay, so that's too PC. How about 'hub or HB or "the other half of the rent." The bearded eye-roller is my favorite :) Sucks to be him, huh?

A cool front has serendipitously passed through the center of the US and we have a nice breeze plus temps below 90 for a change. It took thirty minutes outside to work up a sweat today and that's okay by me. The birds are fed again and some new flowers planted. The yard boy did some weed whackin' after I mowed. All is well in my little world.

Re-hauling the house has been a lot of work, but well worth it. When we were cleaning up the basement for the hundredth time I found my college diploma covered in dust and cobwebs. It's hanging in my new room now....the one that's all about Poopie Jane and who she is. Cats in the closet and dogs on the bed. What a mess!

He's out there. I know it with all my heart.

^j^