The current contender as father-of-my-grandchild(ren)is an Eagle Scout, thus he is always prepared. Never mind that he couldn't find it if he needed it, it's there in a box somewhere, probably labeled "kitchen stuff." The poor guy has moved from pillar to post in the past few years seeking a home for his grown up self. Except he wasn't quite there yet, thus the baggage. The last move was into my ancient basement, willy nilly and here and there amongst the dust and dirt that coat the place. And there it has set for six months. I've burned empty boxes and sorted through his past carefully, moving it all into a sacred space for him to deal with when the time comes.

Meanwhile, I'm all about some cleanup and a place for Poopie to play with power tools and paint brushes. I have a piece of Gaga's furniture to restore and bring up to the main floor, and some Christmas presents to create from the past that is mine and the family's. We are older now, and have frequent conversations about the past in the context of the future. Mama tells me what she's carved whose initials on, carefully listening to what is important to each of us. I know where the papers are, and what they want. We laughed the other day chattin' about the yard sale for the band where Aunt Granny put out for sale every piece of ceramic genius that Gaga ever gave her, and the matriarch showed up to buy 'em all back. She was a genius whiz if I ever saw one.

...but not here. I'm over yonder at the Dew today.

^j^

Yep.. that's me.

Thanks to Big Ernie, Ruskey and Clark are not dying of thirst, but they do need some funds to get the gang from the Dakotas to St. Louis a month from now. Y'all know what it's like to be on a mission ...right?

The b**g honeymoon is over, y'all. As with most unions, we hit a rough spot around the two year mark that has been difficult to negotiate. There will be few words typed around these parts, except on special occasions. Life is way too short to be spent tappin' on the keyboard when there's a presidential election coming up. If you're content with the state of our union, carry on. If not....keep the faith.

^j^

My friend Brenda chose August 22nd as her wedding day, and Lord have mercy, I can't tell you why. I reckon she was ready to get on with the honeymoon and such. I was the only attendant, decked out in a green taffeta number that cost a fortune and made me sweat just lookin' at it. I put it on for her, because that's what friends do when one finds the love of her life. The wedding planners couldn't know that the electricity would go out mid afternoon at the tiny little Methodist church at Finley. Probably a snake in a transformer somewhere down around the Big Muddy.

My friend Chucky made a housecall to do my hair...it wilted as he styled and sprayed, trying desperately to save me from myself. When we gathered at the church in the dim heat I noticed that the tapers were melting on spot. The groom's idol, Neil Diamond, crooned in the background as the nuptials got underway. Did I mention that it was really really HOT?

Last time I saw Brenda Mae was at her Daddy's funeral. She was wearing a nice southern girl hat, escorted by her good friend Jim to the grave site. We had lunch at Finley Methodist, deviled eggs and fried chicken and all that stuff. There is nothing in this world like funeral food, if you know what I mean. What a pity that it takes a death to bring out the good cook in a southern girl.

I think they're still married. Jack used to be a preacher, of the Baptist variety. He got discouraged somewhere along the way with the subservient woman thing and the no dancing.no having fun.no earthly pleasures chapters. of the bible. My faith picks up right around the birth of Baby Jesus in a nasty ass barn, born to unwed parents who were asked to believe in a miracle.

I drove by my home church on the way to get breakfast and the newspapers yesterday morning. Daddy was there singing in the men's choir and going to sunday school. Mom couldn't make it. It hurts for her to walk.

Together, they gave me what I believe about God.

It's all good.

^j^

My brother is one of those guys who knows everybody and their Mama 'n them. He got into the nightclub business a few years ago with a couple of other guys. It's his third job, if you count the day one and the part time gig at the liquor store. I do believe the boy's got the first buck he ever made. Soon as the doors flew open at that club , everybody who knew him wanted to get in free...it became a joke among the staff. They wore t-shirts that said "I know Bubba too." Gotta love a place with a sense of humor.

I rambled on over there last night to see the energetic Funkmonsters do their thing, and loved every minute of the show. Decked out in wigs and spandex, this group can get even the most timid out onto the dance floor to shake their booties.

The highlight of the evening came when this little gal named Kristin took the stage to sing some Pat Benatar and belted it out like she was ten feet tall and bulletproof. The way she hugged up to the drummer, I kinda figure they're sweet on each other. What do you think?

A PHOTOJOURNALISTIC TRISKADEKIA ESSAY BY POOPIE ^J^

1. It was hot for a long long time and then there was a pleasant day or two and now it's hot again. Such is August in Tennessee, thus saith the Lord. A hundred today and tomorrow and the next day and the next d...

2. My riding lawnmower has been in the shop for two weeks now. The lawn yard is in desperate need of a good bushhogging. Or a herd of hungry goats. Suffice it to say that we will not be winning beauty spot of the week anytime soon.

3. The kitties are still scrappy and cute and ummm...about three months old now? I've lost track of time, just like my Daddy said I would when I got older.

4. Got my prize in the mail the other day for B4B. Tickles me to death to find a surprise in the mailbox with my name on it.

5. This old house is actually beginning to look like my own. It's been too hot to do anything else, so I've been digging through the past and hanging stuff on the the walls. It's actually been fun!

6. My Mama is learning to walk again following several months with a broken foot from her Easter wreck. The boys and I know that she spends summers indoors anyway, so this wasn't much of a big thing except for the sleeping on the couch and not taking a shower part. As a bonus, Daddy now knows where everything is in the kitchen :)

7. We've been a one car family for several years now so I'm thrilled that BabyGirl has her own ride and we don't have to do the tedious work of figuring out how to get where we're both going. Little things make all the difference, ya know? Like Bernie the Cat lounging in the background.

8. I get out more these days because it's time to move on. Four and a half years of soul-searching is just about right for a girl to figure out what's what. All of my ex-therapists would be mighty proud of the baby steps.

9. This little blog community of ours has seen some change. Hoss is busy kissing Scamp and Fletch and Raehan have retired their sites in exchange for silent blogs. That's not a bad thing, by any stretch of the imagination. The ones who want to will stay in touch.

10. I still get more joy out of taking pictures of this farm than anything I can think of, except for sex. With a friend. That I trust. Who can spend the night.

11. The Southern Festival of Books has moved closer to me, thankyouverymuch. My next vacation will be spent in Memphis browsing the literati at my leisure and having a massage or three.

12. It's football time in Tennessee and me and YaYa have a Christmas Eve date. Don't ask what the connection is there.

13. Redneck Friend has a birthday tomorrow. She ain't nowhere near my age, but she's gainin' on me and I like that in a girl. Leos can be such a pain in the ass when they're young.

^j^

Finally! An afternoon cool enough to play outside comfortably. Ahh..autumn, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways. Nevah mind...too many to count. Moderation is the key, especially when it comes to temperature. I've been busy planning my birthday while out frolicking amongst the flora and fauna and critters. It's a really cool idea, ya know? I've been relentlessly working on this old house and its' acreage trying to get it into shape so I can lay down and read books find SugarDaddy in my spare time. I'll definitely need his assistance when the next electric bill comes due. So here's the plan...my birthday is on a
saturday...September 9th to be exact. I don't have to go to work and you can't make me. I'd love nothing more than to wake up and know that the whole day was mine with friends who are willing to do one.little.thing with a tool or on a ladder to make this place what I've dreamed of during the solitary days and nights spent digging through old carpet and dusty boxes. All you have to do is make an appearance...I'll put the coffee and doughnuts out early and fix sammiches for lunch if you'll just help an old girl out. We could roast weenies over the fire and look at pecan futures. Ask BabyGirl...I can't handle all that's involved in maintaining the homeplace. Wasted ten bucks today on a handle for the storm door that Faith ate when I cut the little stick thingy too short. Mechanical minded, I ain't.

Call for directions ^j^

I've never been much to take naps because I'm one of those whose mind races all the time and can't really settle down for a nap. Seems that the older I get, the easier it is to just lay down and say "forget it". Today was such a day...and I'm talking three hours worth AFTER sleeping until nine this morning. Can you say "Poopie is whooped"? I'm telling myself that I have to rest up for Elvis week which begins today, you know. During this week thousands will make the pilgramage from all over the dang WORLD to visit Graceland during the anniversary of his death. I was a recent college graduate when he died, still living in Memphis, and I will never forget what a huge stir the city was in during that time. I heard on the news last night that his father's house is for sale on E-Bay..go figure. Note to self: Don't go to Whitehaven this week.

Memphis is such a cool place downtown with history just oozing from every sidewalk and building. I loved it when I was there, but I sure don't miss it now because I'm so spoiled to getting somewhere in five minutes. I'd have to get up at 3AM to be able to get my lazy self to work if I lived down there! The interstate is a nightmare...a big old circle around the city that has had major construction going on for the past few years ( don't they all?) I remember when I was in college I never EVER used the loop...always the main streets. There are a couple that run all the way from the river to the next town east. Memphis streets are bad about changing names at intersections which can be quite confusing if you don't know that, for instance, North Parkway turns into Summer at the East Parkway intersection and you look up and wonder how the heck you got on a different street when you didn't turn. Heh.

When I was a teenager my sweet mother used to haul me and my hippie friends down to the Coliseum, which was the only concert venue at the time. It was there that I saw legends like Led Zeppelin, Jimi Hendrix, Elton John, Linda Ronstandt and others. The Auditorium North Hall was downtown and I saw The Allman Brothers there and, later on, Steve Martin when he first started the arrow-through-the-head thing. The coolest place for concerts is on Mud Island, but it's not promoted much anymore. The amphitheater sits right on the river and was the perfect place to enjoy Bruce Hornsby and the Range, James Taylor and others. It is rarely used for big names these days. Instead they are booked into the FedEx Forum which replaced the Pyramid fairly quickly. I've never been to either of them. Sure do miss live music!

It has been twenty nine years since I graduated from college and I've had only ONE place of employment. It has changed ownership twice since I began my career there all those years ago. I remember when a couple of "older ladies" reached their thirty year milestones and I wondered out loud just HOW anybody could last that long...and here I am still kicking. Amazing.

Y'all have a good Elvis week.

^j^

I've been doing research this past week on the 9/11 victim who will be honored here on the fifth anniversary of that tragedy. Like you, I've seen the footage and read the stories, but nothing prepared me for the emotional intensity of digging around in the life of one of the victims to give proper homage to that particular human being. It has become even more important to me considering the near miss events of the past week in London. That such a large population of people hate us as a country badly enough to plot and scheme for years to kill innocents is a very sobering thought. What is even more frightening is to note that the number of coalition deaths in Iraq will soon reach the 2996 mark as well. Does that make us even? I think not. That doubles the number of people who have died because of radical Islamic terrorism. Do the math, y'all.

I've put all the dates on the birthday calendar that have been sent to me. Can you view it and go from month to month? If not, let me know and I will get some "technical assistance" from one of my uber-geek friends on fixing it.

BabyGirl and I went car shopping for her today and found just what she needed at an affordable price. She's headed back to college in a couple of weeks to major in social work. Wonder where she picked up that particular interest? There was a sharp lookin' convertible in the showroom that I will be driving as soon as SugarDaddy hooks me up...When I find him....If I have time left over from being a smartass redneck big hearted country girl to even LOOK for his invisible self.

Don't forget there's a blogger cookbook being put together by Wendy and she needs your help! If you want the secret recipe for my triple chocolate pound cake, you better check it out. It's sinful, in a death by chocolate sort of way. Gotta make one on Monday for my boss who turns SIXTY on Tuesday. Sheesh. Old geezer :)

Hot mama update! While I was at the kudzu bar yesterday evening a thunderstorm moved through and saved the thermometer from poppin' out the top. I do so love me a good storm. When I went in it was right at a hundred...by the time I left girls' night out, not one.bead.of.sweat formed on my pretty little brow..OR..under my boobs. You know she's a low maintenance kinda girl when she measures joy by lack of boob sweat and incoming trauma. Cloudy all day today with a high of 82. SWEET. Big Ernie sent the relief at just the right time as I have noticed that tempers are a wee bit, shall we say, bitchy and short of late. Nah..how about we take some dramatic license and say downright evil. Quote from my friend Sue: " If hell is anything like this, I'm gonna straighten up."
Amen,sista.

Only 29 days 'til my birthday, by the way. I am all about birthdays because I believe that it's a good excuse to be spoiled rotten for a day...or a week. My Mama has always made a big deal about my birthday, doing things to make me feel special just for being her first born and only girl. When we were closer together and not so busy we got together for dinner whenever the calendar turned another year's page on one of our lives. There were always pictures, usually with the ketchup bottle right smack in the middle of the table covering up Bubba's face. He hates the camera thing. He was born in the dead-of-winter January while the baby brother T Harold got hatched in glorious month of October. Sometimes I marvel at the ways we are all so different coming from the same litter, but then there are familial similarities that become more apparent with each passing year.

Poor old pregnant Hannah waddled down to the lab to pick up some blood for one of her patients today and it reminded me of when I was fat-ass preggers with BabyGirl twenty two years ago, running the halls of the hospital with a phlebotomy tray on my hip never missing a beat.

What the hell was I thinking?


When's your birthday?

You know how you spend lots of time with people at work and at play and then you move on with your lives and you kind of lose contact and umm...twenty five years pass and you don't have a clue where they are or what they're doing and then BAM something happens and it's like no time ever passed? Today was such a day for me. As fate would have it this gal and her hubby walked into the lab today looking for people she knew when she worked at our hospital all those years ago. As I walked toward the couple, my face registered a blank. Then she told me who she was! When you spend twenty nine years in one place, you see a lot of people come and go while sharing bits and pieces of your lives day by day. Back in the day, we all partied together and played with each others' kids and held hands through the hard times, much like me and the current bunch do.

As I walked out to leave the hospital, I paused in the lobby to silently pay homage to the memorial set up for a co-worker who was buried today. Sam saw more pain and suffering working as a paramedic than any of us can ever imagine. His beloved wife died not too long ago after years of disability and illness during which he stood bravely by her side. He retired last year and died yesterday morning of complications from a normally benign disease. The ambulance service was staffed today by folks from other places who showed up to work so that the regular crew could carry one of their own to his final resting place with honor and dignity.

We should all be so blessed.

^j^

I've had cabin fever from being cooped up under the AC to survive sweat less so I took this afternoon to get out and play in the water...only way to bear the heat. After washing my car I moved onto the siding and porches and the central AC unit which are all covered with dirt and green stuff. Pressure washing the entire place is what SHOULD be done, but hey..no $$ in the budget for that nonsense. I am surrounded by cotton fields and pasture...it'll just get dirty again.

Hat tip to Phyllis for the link to this site where bloggers can sign up to pay tribute on their own sites to one of the victims of 9/11 on the fifth anniversary next month. It makes it all a bit more personal than simply repeating the huge number of lives lost on that tragic day.

Michael suggested doing a Google calendar for the birthday thing which sounds like a winner to me! He helped me with the code and it's there on the sidebar below the blogroll. I added everyone who has responded in comments so far...but you can add yourself and I encourage you to do so. Organization ain't my strong suit, I'm just saying. Click on the calendar and it will bring up the current month. Toggle to your birth month, double click on your birthday and "add an event." If you don't want to mess with it, email me and I'll do it for you. If you don't, no presents for you!!

The yellow kitten who can't meow is on crack and I will kill the dealer dead when I find his ass. This girl is a real curtain climber at all hours of the day and night. Notes to self: Buy more benadryl on payday. Pick up John Deere. Get Funkmonster tickets from Bubba. Party time!

Fortunately for sugardaddy, I'm not all into the shopping thing like a lot of girls. There comes a time, though, that the Poopster needs to feel the sensation of new threads on the old body, when not bloggin' nekkid. My favorite sleeping attire consists of men's boxers and T-shirts from work bearing whatever slogan the powers that be have decided to grace us with that year, instead of a raise. I keep a few around with no paint on them for when company comes :) The boxers were gettin' ragged...holes in the front and back of several of 'em so I drove up to the dollar store today and got some new ones..Fruit of the Loom, if you must know. Reminds me of my Daddy every time I buy them. That's all he's ever worn under the khaki work pants. No tightie whities for that farmer!

Speaking of farmers, this is a mighty fine year to be a cotton farmer here on Pecan Lane. The fields are lush and green and covered with pink and white blooms thanks to hot and humid weather day after day after day after... Hard to believe that in two short months the pickers will be doing the harvest thing and it will be cool. By then I'll be trying to figure out how to pay the propane guy for heat instead of the city electric company for AC. It's always something, ya know?



My birthday is September 9th...a Virgo to the core, right down to the earth mother thing. It always falls during the week of the Dyer County Fair which begins on Labor Day. My Mom and Daddy both worked there when I was growing up and as a teenager I did too. There's something really special about seeing the fruits of country folks' devotion to nature and community with red white and blue ribbons dangling as a prize for the biggest squash or most artistic flower arrangement. Normally that week is the first break in the miserable late summer weather for West Tennesseans. On a good year, temps will get down to sixty in the evening which makes strolling the midway much more comfortable. There's a free day from school on Friday following the Labor Day holiday so it's a short week for the students and teachers who have already been hard at it since the end of July.

So about this birthday thing...If you can keep up with everybody's on your own, more power to 'ya. I do good to remember MINE. How about we do a b**g birthday calendar to nail down the dates. I'll keep up with it if you'll just let me know when yours is, and I'll send it out to other bloggers that I know. If sugardaddy shows up, I'll hand the project over to somebody else and run away to Fiji.

Deal?

Surely, even those without the gift have seen or heard the the signs of fall by now. If not, well..sucks to be them in the summer of '06. Knowing what's coming is all that keeps my middle aged sweaty self going from car to house to the sawmill and back. Makeup is history until it doesn't slide plum 'offa my cute little face onto the nearest sleeve. That should save a bundle for SugarDaddy. The ree'a'rees were giving it heck out there around sunset. Still are, for that matter. I found the first autumn clematis bloom while walkin' the yard, hidden up under the leaves. That means it's almost my birthday....again. Where did that year go?

Faith went to the kudzu bar with me yesterday to snap a few pictures. That girl goes anywhere I go, and loves every second of the ride with her ears flapping in the breeze. It's her dogaversary this month...three years since she became a part of the Poopie family. She and Butterbean are chillin' on my bed in front of the fan to celebrate.

I usually do my shopping at the dollar store whenever possible but there are times when you just have to venture out to the major chain grocery store and this was one of them. I headed straight to the meat department to pick up a couple of pork tenderloins that were on sale...that's the only time I buy 'em. So I'm picking my way through a cluster of folks who are waiting for the meat lady to bring some more of the (also on sale) boston butts. For y'all northerners, boston butts are what we make barbecue out of down here. Real PORK bbq. Anyway, here comes meat lady rolling in a tiered tray covered with those suckers and that's where the trouble started. She's pitching 'em into the case and this old guy and a middle aged lady and her mother start scuffling over one particular piece of meat that they both wanted. As their voices got louder I kind of slunk on down out of their way and moved onto seafood. "Fine lady!" he growled. "Just TAKE it!" After he stormed off us observers shook our heads in dismay at just how rude some people's kids are. *snort*

Met YaYa at the kudzu bar yesterday afternoon for a few happy hour brewskis. We're all seriously considering rehab after her week long 50th birthday celebration last week. But then we think, nah. Life could be over tomorrow...drink beer first and forget dessert. You gotta love a bar where you can take your dog in with you, I'm just sayin'. The owner's poodle pom keeps her company during the day before the after-work crowd comes in. Yesterday she was joined by the vet's border collie. They both cruised the crowd and got lots of pats and hugs. Speaking of dogs, I splurged on a pair of those professional nail clippers for my two. Now I've just got to figure out how to knock them out to get the job done. The lab does pretty well, but that little rat terrier goes into a shaking conniption fit every time I even touch her paw 'cuz she thinks I'm trying to cut her nails. Hmm..wonder if Benadryl would work???

I've gotten realistic and moved the paint cans to the basement steps so we don't trip over them anymore. If and when the handyman/sugardaddy shows up, I can always drag them back out. Rollers and brushes too. And ceiling fan and light fixtures. And crown mold and inside corner trim. Actually, I'm quite proud of the progress I've made in sorting through stuff. A lot has been pitched and burned....the guy who put shoes on the horses thought it was a real hoot that I burn garbage in the gravel driveway :) There are boxes that are labeled and actually contain what the label says. There's still a lot left to go, but it will have to wait until the attic cools off. Baby steps and all that.

Gee...If my life got any more exciting I don't know what I'd do.

Guess who got their camera back? The little yellow girl is the one who can't meow.

The strategists for my campaign advised that I wait until election eve to blitz the voters with brilliance. Y'all all know that I do as I'm told, right? OK then. What really sucks about partisan politics is that us independents don't have a chance what with big bizness courtin' the lobbyists and the assistants to the assistants to "da man"...or da woman, as the case may be. Even when America speaks loudly and clearly, money talks to the middle men and the voice gets laryngitis. Middle men, for this post's purposes, consists of anyone who stands to gain something for supporting a certain belief. I've gotta tell ya...I'm looking at bigger earnings than the lottery with my sheep mentality. I can hear them lining up right now to write the checks.

The platform consists of pointing out four major pains in the ass groups that manipulate the American people by knowing our weak spots. They are outlined below (sans bullets) because the campaign manager said that's just "not where it's at" these days. So be it, not in any particular order.

Main Stream Media..Okay, get real. Do you REALLY think that we care about Mel's DUI and the blondes that got him there? We've got enough of our own troubles without listening to your smiley face well coiffed self tell us why his wife wasn't with him on boys' night out. Save it for the judge. Ditto for Fidel and his disappearing act. All of the Cubans who want to be here jumped a boat a long long ago and now live in the good old USA. I know this because my Daddy got sent to Miami to meet them right before he retired from thirty five years of service to the US government. That was several presidents and wars ago.

Big Business...Healthcare is something that should be available to everyone in some form or fashion, and it is not the business of the government to provide that except when the patient cannot gain access to delivery of care: i.e. elderly, children, terminally ill and the like. Us middle class folks would certainly appreciate a break from the big drug companies and insurers awarding mega bucks to CEOS who reap big dividends for those who have the money to invest. Yada. Yada. And Amen. Same goes for oil companies. I mean geez....how many tropical vacations can one man and his mistress enjoy before we give up our SUV's and walk?

Organized Religion...I am a very spiritual person, to a fault sometimes. I grew up that way because my family and friends showed me the definition of agape. I'm blessed in that respect and intend to die trying to show those who haven't had the same blessings. Strip away the luxuries of your church sanctuaries and the salaries of your administrators and show me love in action and I guarantee you I'll be there with the last dollar I've got. For faith in action, see Love Thy Neighbor. Without judgment. With whatever talent you were blessed with by the one God. My friend told me that the worship service that she normally loves was invaded by two pews of a normally absent political family and a "lay speaker" with an agenda. She was pissed, to say the least. So was Jesus, I feel sure.

The Inner Child...You know, the one who whines and carries on about who hit who first and who's right and who's wrong and why you're where you are. At some point in time, each individual has the opportunity to step up and claim his or her life and do something positive with it. You may not be in Wikipedia or the history books, but every one of us has a chance every.single.day to make a difference in another life by sharing where we've been and what we've learned. Sometimes it's painful to do so, but there is therapy in the sharing of that pain. See also: Support group of your choice.

Everybody at work today was talking about the local cable company's broadcast of what the candidates had to say last night. 99.9% of them talked about themselves and their kids and families instead of how they planned to solve the problem at hand. Phone tree messages have been ringing in for days from the ones I didn't vote for two weeks ago. I think there's a law against that, by the way.

If the future of this country rests on last minute decisions by uninformed voters, we're in deep shit.

I got an email late last night from my old and dear friend in Knoxville telling me about the post she did for her son's nineteenth birthday. Of course birthdays are always special, but every one that he lives to see is truly a miracle. Kyle has mitochondrial disease, something I had never heard of until his diagnosis years ago. It has been a long long road for he and his family as they have navigated the stormy seas of non-stop seizures and failure to thrive. There is no doubt in my mind that his family would have given up long ago if it were not for the support they have received from others worldwide, and for the joy and beauty of Kyle's personality. Growing up under the close watch of numerous healthcare professionals he has managed to maintain the joy and wonder of a child while growing into a young man. His mom says that he loves hospitals and getting his blood drawn...and adores the paramedics and firefighters who make frequent calls to take him to the emergency room. It is a lifestyle that many would view as a burden, yet she continues to see his life as a blessing in spite of the obstacles. You can visit his site here and wish him a happy birthday. Scroll down a bit and play the video. It's an awesome tribute to a wonderful angel whose cure might be found in stem cell research. It kind of puts the whole thing in perspective.

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

And the heat goes on..and on..and on. The Lewis and Clark folks are one week into their re-discovery adventure in dugout canoes. I must say that I truly admire people who have the vision to look back into history and appreciate the significance of those who helped to shape our great country. At the same time, it makes me sad to hear them report about industrial pollution all along the waterways that are home to wild critters and such. A sign of the times, just like the effects of our voracious appetite for fossil fuels.

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

I told my friend at work today that I had so much that needed to be done that I needed a man for a day or two...a handyman. Remember those guys who would come around and do little repairs for near nothing. Instead, I'm gonna take Lois Lane's suggestion and plan a party where everybody wears work clothes and helps me do shit stuff. How cool is that! First chore on the list is to get the belt back on the riding mower so I can attack the crabgrass. Those little sticky-up-thingys get all over my nerves and they're gettin' off on this hot'n'humid spell. Considering my huge fear of snakes, that's a priority that surpasses installing light fixtures. At the rate I'm going, it will all be finished just in time for the pot-luck following my funeral. You can put it on my gravestone: " Poopie got'her done!"

Y'all be careful out there in the heat. And keep the faith.

^j^