It's cooler in the basement so I've been down there making a path to the breaker box and sortin' through the collective memories of me and BG and her b'friend the Eagle scout. I don't touch his stuff much, except to move it outta my way and pitch empty boxes into the fire pile. A man's history is sacred ground. He'll sort through it when the Spirit moves...or I do.

There is so much history down there written on the concrete walls and wooden steps. The old horse trader's signature is painted boldly and dated in black...W.W.Council, 1961. His name is surrounded by dozens of chalk written truths. Addie was here! Kate loves Jonathan :) Lauren rocks ^j^ There have been a bazillion kids around here over the years and each has left his or her mark on my soul. They all know that it's a safe place to land. You can't defend it if you don't own it , though. I'm fresh out out of cash and SugarDaddy hasn't shown up to save the day. I'll ride it until the karma runs out because I'm faithful like that.

Had I been braver or more adventurous I would have struck out to work on contract somewhere for fifty bucks an hour and lived in a company apartment for a few hours between my grueling twelve hour shifts. Instead, I stayed home and enjoyed the view both at home and at work. I can get from here to there in ten minutes when there's no traffic. That ain't bad for a morning commute, especially when there's good folk to spend the day with.

Yep..I'm nekkid again. Gonna sleep that way too.

Hot..humid. Again. So I sit here in front of the keyboard in my birthday suit with fans blowing full force while wishing for the stars to turn from Leo to Virgo. I never did do summer very well, even as a kid. Went to Girl Scout camp once in July for two weeks and never took a shower because it was cold water. How ironic that cold showers are my favorite thing these days!

YaYa lived to see fifty and 6/365th, but it was a long week. Her swan song was last night's laid back affair at the Kudzu bar. Me and Redneck Friend met at WallyWorld yesterday while shopping for menu ingredients and compared stories on the night before. Mine was much less amusing than hers, but I needed the rest :) I'm almost 51, you see. Real life drama gets old pretty quick for the elderly. That's why we read books and watch TV.

As for me, I'm looking forward to some weather cool enough to work on the house without danger of a heatstroke. The tiling is done but, ummm. There's lots of stuff left to do. More painting. Floor work. Trim all bought and layin' around for lack of a work buddy. The BabyGirl is working graveyard shift and heading back to college in a few weeks so she's not much help. That's okay though. She's doing her own thing, and that's what growing up is all about.

One spare kitten who can't meow is lookin' for a good home. Any takers?

Me and Redneck Friend met up at the Kudzu bar to chat about YaYa's upcoming THIRD birthday party to celebrate her turning the big five-oh. It's been a busy week for the old girl, I'm just sayin'. She was absent due to the fact that she's between celebrations and resting up her busted ribs. That's a whole 'nother story that shall remain untold until she decides to write it herself. Me and RF made the acquaintance of a nice lady named Sara who has redneck tendencies herself and a big huge heart. Her husband died ten years ago and she's just now getttin' out to enjoy herself a bit.

Turns out that Sara is a first cousin to my old friend the Dog and she knows everybody that RF knows up in that neck of the woods. Go figure that one. The dust is flying like the grapes of wrath around here what with fast hard rains that run off quick instead of the nice soakin'kind. Remind me not to burn off the asparagus bed anytime between now and Christmas. I'm *beginning to believe* that the global warming thing might not be made up at all, unlike the WMD thing. As for the Holy War, y'all might as well duke it out over there and get it over with. Kiss and make up because there's only one god and he ain't about taking a bullet for the team. I don't know much, but I sure as hell know that.

Birthday wishes for YaYa are welcome and most appreciated. A girl only turns 50 once.. been there, done that, gotta t-shirt. I have an idea for hers :)

Something happened today, in a cosmic sort of way. Though I couldn't swear to it, the orbit of my earth seemed to shift a bit in a way that let me know that the really hard times are coming to an end in my little world. All I can figure is that it finally hit home that life is good, in spite of the angst. Glass half full and all that. This is not a new vantage point for me mind you...I've spent most of my years feeling guilty about feeling bad about poop that just happens and building hope on the little gems of kindness and faith that I experience every day. On the afternoon news from Memphis, there was a piece about a group of people who threw together...in ONE week...a summer long program for at-risk neighborhood children in a local church where they sang and danced and did crafts while learning about the Bible. In my humble opinion, that is the church in action and not the job of the government or the school system. Faith is possible only when there is hope for something different.

That is what I pray for this country. Most of us are the "middle class" who support the upper and lower earning tiers with our tax dollars. We expect, because we are taxed so heavily, that we will receive tender loving care from a group of elected officials who lobby and wine and dine until they are so full of power that we feel helpless and lose our voices. That big old chunk of working America that is us is slowly reaching retirement age at a time when the chaos of the world threatens to engulf our good intentions with hatred. Several years ago, my baby brother opined that we should all become more self sufficient and go back to the basics. At the time I was consumed with recovering from the end of a long marriage and the latter years of teenagehood with my BabyGirl. Times were hard because there was no partner to share the load. It all went to hell in a handbasket as I looked on and kept my paws off as best I could.

It took awhile, but I found myself again...the woman who exists outside of mom and employee and friend and wife and daughter and you-can-always-count-on-her girl. In short, I became who I am today. Older, wiser in some ways. Still not organized, no matter how hard I try. Sucker for pretty pictures, animals, music and belly laughs. Paradoxically, I am a lover of both antiques and discovery of new things that I cherish. Sometimes these are one and the same.

I'm slowing down, and that's okay because it's my turn. Hugs are held a bit longer because they feel good. *Period*. So does a nice long nap with a pet and a good book during a slow steady rain. I don't wear much makeup or have high maintenance hair, but I sure do enjoy the occasional "all about me" self indulgent session as the money allows. Gives me the energy to get up and go out there and enjoy the blessings of Big Momma nature and all her miracles. It sure would be a shame to lose those gifts that Big Ernie gave us. See: New Covenant aka WWJD.

Last time I read it, it went something like this:

Love one another.

Get pissed off and take intelligent action against injustice.

Believe in miracles.

Do unto the least of these as you would have them do unto you.

Remember who you are.

Call Make peace with your past.

Keep the faith.

^j^

Nah, I'm not. I'M ECSTATIC after finding out that my Blogging for Books entry was one of three winners written on the theme "between." That would be as in Between, Georgia, penned by the hostess for the event, Joshilyn Jackson. Originally started by The Zero Boss, B4B has been living with Joshilyn temporarily at Faster Than Kudzu while Jay got some stuff done. Next round, the competition will be moving back to his place. The other winning entries are here and here . Yay for all of the thirty plus writers who put out the effort to compete!

Nobody wants to know how sick I was yesterday, so I won't whine. I'll just say that my nose is raw and that benadryl is my very.best.friend in this world right now. Who needs a SugarDaddy when you've got a runny nose and cough? Certainly not me. I'd like to knock his socks off when I'm looking my very best ;) The other good news? Folks at the camera hospital say I should have my other best friend back by the end of next week. I'm keepin' my shooting fingers crossed on that one.

My old good friend Yaya turned fifty today, and she has a party lined up for every day this week. Let's hope she makes it to fifty one with all that merriment and tomfoolery going on ;) I'm just glad she finally caught up with me. Now I don't feel so old. Redneck Friend is the baby of the bunch, with a few years to go yet before she's as old and wise as we are. *snort*

Y'all be careful out there.

^j^

The Poopster is over at The Dew today.

Love ya...mean it.

What a great day of rest..Man, I love to sleep in. Seriously. I've made it almost all the way around the old blogroll this weekend, which is very nice. I like to be able to catch up and see what's going on with everybody. Over at His Phoenix Wendy is cookin' up a blogger's cookbook! She needs recipes, and is also running a contest for cover art and a dedication page. Go. Run. It's a cool idea and readers will vote on the entries.

I could really get into not having to go to work, but alas. Monday is calling my name already. If I don't find SugarDaddy soon I'll be waddling down the halls of that hospital at age 70 grabbing at the hot young patients boy nurses. Back when I started, it was quite unusual to see a male nurse around. FTS would have felt right at home in the mass of estrogen based life forms that was a hospital. These days a lot of guys have taken up healthcare as a profession which makes working conditions much more bearable for a gal like me. Working side by side with men gives a whole new perspective on things,which I appreciate. I've learned a lot about the male species from them during our chats. Not that I've figured out what to DO with it yet....

How about that Dubya? The veto on stem cell research was tenth after the last straw for me. How can someone who calls themself "pro-life" stand up and pitch a fit against a Congress that finally heard what the people are saying. Pure arrogance..or stupidity. I haven't decided which yet. These "medical waste" embryos could save the lives of you or your children. Instead the current stem cell lines will eventually die out and so will the research. All that PLUS three bucks a gallon for petrol and a shitstorm in the Middle East. Who was it that invited us to that party anyway?

I can tell my sanity is improving because my rants are much shorter :)

Y'all keep the faith. ^j^

Some of you have read about here, or followed links to the river adventures of my online friends John Ruskey and Mike Clark. Today is a big day for these two as well as the rest of the folks who have been involved in the re-enactment of the Lewis and Clark expedition. The hand carved canoes which have been lovingly constructed over the past months will be launched on the Yellowstone River in Montana for the 2000 mile journey that is scheduled to end in St. Louis on September 23. You can get a look at some of the canoes here and keep up with their journey. All of these activities are centered around the celebration of the 200th anniversary of the Lewis and Clark expedition from 1803-1806. It's amazing stuff...check it out. Good luck guys!!

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

*sigh* That is the sound of the old Poopster breathing easy now that the cool front has washed up the dirty air around these parts. Air quality has been "code orange" for the past week with temps reaching 100 every day. Factor middle age and menopause into that, and well...you've got one hot mama, and not in a good way :) The animals here at the zoo have been pretty reluctant to go outside except for a quick pee or poop. We still have two kittens, neither of which have learned to meow yet. What's up with that??

No news is good news, I reckon. Quiet Saturday, no drama. My peace loving self really likes that kind of karma. What are y'all doing? I'm gonna throw some burgeres on the grill soon. Come on over.

^j^

Once upon a time, an angel named Clarence gifted me with another venue for my propensity to write. I met him through Michael, who should have been happy, but wasn't. I believe that he is now, and that makes me smile deep down inside. Along the way I met Jennifer, Lori and Phyllis after hooking up with South Knox Bubba and his pal Fletch. Big Ernie only knows how I ended up in Bend Oregon with Hoss, but I'm glad I did, dung beetles and all. Through him I met Tish and Vicki and all the rest of their groupies including, but not limited to: Many women who have made me laugh and cry over who I am, which is just.like.them. Some were pregnant and others were pullin' their fool hair out over bein' Mommy and Grandma and overworkedanduncerappreciated employees. Others, like Deb, introduced me to the joy of catching just the right flower shot with a camera. Fletch and Bubba did that too, teasing the Rocky Top Brigade with bird pictures on Friday. That's where I met Julie and CG and Frankie and Zoot. And Zoot's mom :)

Early on, it was all about rantin' for me. I learned that from my sister-in-law and fellow blogger, the rabid Republican aka Martha and her lovely hubby Rush. I will carry to my grave that feeling of euphoria when I first realized that somebody was actually listening to and hearing the sound of my soul. I do believe Raehan was the first to invite me to her birthday party. Rachel and Hannah were there, along with MommaK and her whole family plus the lovely and talented Tamara who designed my poopie little home. She had me from the outhouse, I'm just sayin'.

I must admit to blog crushes, because there have been a string of 'em. Cowboy Joe and Steelcowboy rode into my life at about the same time and I fell head over heels the first time I met each of them. Both were fiercly in love with women whom they adored, body and soul. There were kids and exes and multiple opportunities for drama. Speaking of lack of drama...sheesh. FTS lived in Texas all his life and was surprised every damn summer that he roasted his stylist ass. The boy finally got wise to climate and headed for a state where he can actually wear a sweater with his Brad Pitt lips and all. Andrew and Skunk are nearby. Karen's just a short plane ride away and..lord. Y'all have worn me out with all this drama.

My point is this, simply. Those of you who said "i hear ya" or " spewed the drink out my nose" or *snort* told me this about me....that my life counts. So many folks like Lightning Bugs Butt and Lois Lane have helped me to believe that laughter really IS the best medicine when times are tough. It's a helluva lot more pleasant to laugh than to cry and pout. Orgasms and good food are also excellent. A guy who gets all that is worth his weight in gold and countless nights of getting kicked when he snores. Hey..I'm an old lady and need my sleep like Mahala and her Ma. Some kids have all the fun being all over the world, like Mrs. Mogul and Peter. There was this hot guy in Louisiana one time who did the most talented cartooning. I believe his name was Bennett and I met him through Nolff and Indy Girl.

Zubrovka was the first to suggest b**gging to me, several years ago. My response? " What's a blog?" Heh. Smart boy, that Count Z. His best friend Christine is an artist like he is. Their stuff just makes me go "ooohhh." No shit! So do Fred and Colleen with their beloved Virginia mountain life. There have been Road Apples and Rvrguys and YaYas and their bosses. Redneck friends too. Biking girls in Philly with wild fantasies. You know the kind, right? Arrogance doesn't set well with me, particularly the self-important doctor kind. I reckon it's an occupational hazard for almost nurses.

Disclaimer: If I left your link out, consider yourself personally offended and therefore in need of a laugh or five. As Phil would say, let's put it on the table so we can put our hands on it. The beast :) Over there is where I'll ramble about growing up the Poopster. Come along with me if you feel like it. There's no sitemeter or anything. Just me and my thoughts about how I got to where I am.

I voted today, for the candidates of my choice, right before lunch with friends. Alan's persistent reminders about the sheep mentality of America and their willingness to listen to corporate lies have given me hope for something other than being told what to do when and how. The Blondes are usually right on, with the exception of that Iowa guy. All that drama over there ran Patricia off to Martini Land where she calls it as she sees it.

This potty will be reserved for the good stuff from this day forward. If I whine, smack me real hard and remind me that there's a time and place for that shit and a time to grab the bull by the horns and smile real big.

I heard it's contagious. Somebody call the CDC!!!!

^j^

P.S. Somebody needs to go check on Ivy and Jules. Texas is toast about right now. So is Tennessee. Shout out to Martha Sue and the rest of the folks at work. Love ya..mean it.

Just because it makes me feel cooler!

'Tis the season, y'all. You know the one...DOG days. Heat stroke city for roofers and layers of highway ashphalt. How'd you like to be that guy driving the big old roller over that hot tar on a day like today? Makes me terribly thankful to live and work in an air conditioned place. Remember to check on your neighbors, especially the elderly. This is dangerous stuff.

And the fighting continues in the Middle East. My co-workers and their kids made it safely to Jordan from Syria and are scheduled to come home next week. I'll save the rant because it might stir Radical Rightwing Troll Robert up and bring him around to comment again. Fox News, my ass.

No rant. Just faith.

^j^

Still no camera. The barn pic yesterday was taken back when I had one that worked. I'm waiting to hear from the repair place to see if it can be fixed under warranty. The barn sits about 50 feet behind my house and serves as shelter for two horses that got new shoes and a manicure last week. Mostly they just hang out in the pasture and enjoy life with tails swishing every which'a'way to keep the flies from biting.

Stubborn fool that I am, I've been in the attic the past couple of nights bringing boxes of pictues and childhood memorabilia down to the cool where I can sort through them at my leisure. There is something about touching precious things from the past that makes it easier to let go and move forward, right Vicki? There are boxes all over the living room, ready to receive the offerings of church camp art and pre-school progress reports. My mother puts me to shame as an organizer of things. The scrapbooks that she made for me as I was growing up ( and for the two brothers as well ) are divided by school year and age and include every rat killing we ever took part in plus every holidays' joy. My system broke down after keeping up with the baby book for about four years. From then on it was all saved, but with no rhyme or reason. I hope to bring some order to the chaos in the coming weeks and months.

When we moved into this house eighteen years ago, it had been home to a horse man for around fifty years. The last ten of them he spent here alone after his wife died. It took six months of hard labor just to get the place ready to move in. You can imagine what a mess is left behind by an elderly farm guy living alone. There were bags of rabbit food in the attic and the basement was a study in dirt and cobwebs plus piles of trash and metal. BabyGirl was four at the time, so any further work took a backseat to being a mother and earning a living. As she grew older, I managed to tackle one project a year, because they were always major. One year I spent cleaning up the foot of pine needles that covered up one side of the yard, and putting in a shade bed. Another time it was dragging stuff out of the basement to make room for my own little escape. This year, I've finally gotten the urge to change the look of the main floor from the "country heart" motif that we've had for eighteen years. It has been a labor of love, every minute of it.

I distinctly remember sitting on the back porch steps years ago, dreaming about converting the weedy corner next to the basement entrance into a flower bed. It took awhile, but I made it happen, antique stones and all. There's a pile of bricks and odd shaped rocks piled up out there now, my patio in the making. There is history all over this farm just waiting to be told.

Y'all stay cool if you can. And keep the faith.

What Your Soul Really Looks Like

You are very passionate and quite temperamental. While you can be moody, you always crave comfort. You are a grounded person, but you also leave room for imagination and dreams. You feet may be on the ground, but you're head is in the clouds. You believe that people see you for how you are, not how you look. But deep down, you know that's not exactly true. Your near future is calm, relaxing, and pretty much what you want. And it's something you've been anticipating for a while now. For you, falling in love is all about flirting and feeling playful. You couldn't fall in love with someone who took life too seriously.

Sounds just like me. Thanks Kaliblue


I refuse to whine about being hot while the rest of the country melts right along with me. Misery does so love company. Oh..and guess who sees fall this evening ;) Perpetual optimist, that's the old Poopster.

The healthcare vocation, if the oath is taken seriously, involves doing no harm. The entire delivery system revolves around a series of checks and balances to ensure that the patient receives the best medical care possible. Years ago, many American docs realized that the gravy train they had enjoyed was about to collapse as politicians began to (somewhat clumsily, I might add) look at all of the ways that scared sick people were spending their healthcare dollars. Limits were set on reimbursement by government programs to individual providers and the rules were laid out with private insurers following close behind. They change daily, and keeping up with those changes is a huge part of being a healthcare practitioner. Those whopping health insurance premiums that you pay are a direct result of the "entitlement" mentality that was rampant when I entered the field back in the late seventies. The norm was for a patient to be admitted for a few days just to "rest" and have some tests. Insurance premiums were fully paid as a perk to employees. Y'all know the rest of the story.

Somewhere during those years becoming a doctor lost its' luster for many Americans. If the doctor's wife, or child, couldn't be a homemaker and play bridge or tennis when she wanted... well, it just wasn't worth the hassle of making housecalls and staying up late to tend to the sick. Thus began the influx of physicians from around the globe to Smalltown USA. This is about one couple who settled here to raise a family and do no harm. Last I heard they were huddled with their young children in Syria waiting for a break in the violence so they could come home.

She is a pediatrician with a strong epidemiology background. He is a gastroenterologist partnered with an a-hole of a dysfunctional American guy. Since they've been a part of our little corner of the world, two children have been born and brought up to elementary school age. They were in Lebanon visiting family and sharing the culture with their kiddos when all hell broke loose. Innocent people caught up in the firestorm that surrounds their heritage. When I think about them, I see images of his happy self scurrying across the parking lot or helping my aunt die peacefully from colon cancer. She travelled the halls of the hospital pregnant as a goose caring for other people's children. Both can be a pain in the butt when they get riled up, but it's always....always...about patient care. We should all be fortunate enough to receive treatment from a doctor like that.

I hope they're okay. We'll keep the faith on that one.

^j^

Way back when I was a kid, the term "redneck" was a sort of insult to farmers, which I found out the hard way by saying it around my Daddy. He was not amused, but it was Mama who whispered to me quietly what the connotation of the word was in his world. As an adult in therapy I voraciously read everybody from Scott Peck to John Bradshaw seeking to find and heal my "inner child." Last I heard she was still wailing for a candy bar.

Being a redneck is a state of mind, really, and has nothing to do with trailers or huntin' dogs or pickup trucks. My inner redneck child emerged from hiding about the time I gave the spoiled little inner child the boot and decided to be happy with who I was. Now, I can tell that some of y'all might need some pointers on how to find your OWN inner redneck seeing as how y'all live all over the dang country and not in the South. Truth be told, rednecks live in every state of the US plus all over the world. Like I said it's a state of mind that combines a take no prisoners attitude with a deep and abiding respect for all things traditional, familial and collegiate. In the interest of giving you a headstart, I'll post below some of the things that I do on a regular basis to keep my inner redneck alive and kicking:

Listen to John Boy and Billy's Big Show every day on the radio...not only are they and the cast of characters hilarious, the music is classic rock that never disappoints. My favorite character is the Rev. Billy Ray from the Full Gospel Sword of Joshua Tabernacle Church, down by the frontage road. His sermons always end with
"It's time to turn....so y'all don't burn."

Grow something in a garden.....Rosemary and thyme don't count unless you've got some 'maters or corn nearby. I'm just saying.

Know your NCAA football....Here in the South, SEC rules. You may not know a halfback from a sacked quarterback, but you better act like it. And wear something with your school's color and mascot on it for goodness sake. If you're a REAL fan, decorate your den in those colors like my Daddy did. At the very least, fly one of those little flags on your car on game day.

Eat something made from corn....After all, it is a huge crop in the Mid-West and Southeast. If you can't abide plain old corn on the cob ( bless your heart ) there's always cornmeal for dredging and frying or making cornbread. Also tasty are grits and hominy.

Own at least one item with the John Deere emblem on it. 'Nuf said.

Say "yes ma'am and nossir" to your elders. No exceptions, unless you're drinking with them. Then you can call them Uncle Bubba or Aunt Sis.

Watch Blue Collar Comedy at every opportunity. Jeff and Larry and Bill and Ron are poster children for the nouveau redneck and honorable heroes to us veterans. If you watch, but don't admit it, that doesn't count either.

Brush up on your civil war history, or as we like to call it down here "The War of Northern Aggression."...Around these parts, there are battle re-enactments in full costume on a regular basis...and not a damn one of us ever even KNEW anybody who had a slave.

Buy or make a quilt.... Most of us have inherited numerous quilts from generations gone by but if you weren't that fortunate, you can always buy one from one of the many artisans who are still active with the craft. There is nothing like a hand-stiched quilt to keep one warm on a cold winter's night.

Get a pet...Or five. Myself, I have umm..well, probably too many. But they are loyal to me when the rest of the world walks out the door. The dogs wear bandanas and the cats don't wear a damn thing. Just because they don't want to.

Learn to drink tequila. Every redneck worth his or her salt has been in at least one fight to defend something honorable. Nothing guarantees a good old knock down drag out better than a fifth of Jose. Be sure to remind somebody to tell you the next day what the fight was about and how you did. You won't remember.

Know your song lyrics. Especially the classics like "All my Rowdy Friends are Coming Over" and "Redneck Woman." You just never know when you might feel the urge to jump up and sing karoke on a Friday night with your buds.

I could write a book on this, and perhaps someday I will. In the meantime, I'll just shout out to my pal and frequent reader "Redneck Friend" and say howdy. Don't y'all study too hard tomorrow ;)



Oh yeah, and learn about all things southern here. That would include Kudzu.

We're whittling down the feline population around Pecan Lane. When I got woke up yesterday by all four of 'em crawling all over my back in the bed, I figured it was time to take action. Eating solid food..check. Litter box trained...kinda sorta check. Still wearing Mama cat's nipples out...double check. I just handed over the twin girls to a saint of a woman that I work with. That leaves BabyGirl's darlin' gray striped boy and his meow impaired sister. Plus the three older cats. Plus the two dogs. Uh, yeah. Welcome to my world the zoo.

Thanks to all of you who generously suggested new vocations for me. As I am searching for the "real me" nothing is out of the question, from Sugar Daddy tester to fitness trainer. Well, okay the fitness trainer thing is sort of not possible because I'm so lazy. Actually, what I'm missing most in my life right now is my camera which is at the Kodak hospital awaiting a diagnosis and estimate of treatment for that solid pink LED screen. It revived itself just long enough for me to take a couple of shots of Hoss when he was here back in May. See exhibit B below. He's the pretty one googling dung beetles on my computer.

In the spirit of "trying real hard to see the glass half full" I can only say this about that: Whatever makes you smile...stirs your soul...gives you the giggles....GO FOR IT with all you've got. This ain't no dress rehearsal. Say I love you when you feel it even if the feeling is not mutual. Pick your battles, and let them be over really important things that can be changed by your passionate approach to life on planet Earth.

And above all, keep the faith. ^j^

O.S.I.M.A. "Oh shit..it's (almost) Monday already." I should really find a job that makes me smile. What would you suggest?

I got out for a bit yesterday evening and met redneck friend and her firefighter darlin' at the kudzu bar where we are kweens, at least until the younguns' show up. Our old asses are usually snorin' away by the time the twenty somethings come in to shoot pool and check each other out. Beer is two and a quarter..cheaper than a gallon of gas. If somebody's feeling generous they buy a round. I can't tell you how many times I've headed for home with footballs sitting in front of me to cash in for the next one. I know my limits, and when it's time to go, I'm history. There's nobody to see me home except myself.

Pulling out onto the Main Street through the south of town I headed for home on Pecan Lane, a route I know by heart. The ancient concrete bridge spans a kudzu covered pit that surrounds the Forked Deere River. On the right, after the bridge, is the chicken and gas place. Back when I was a kid Mr. Pierce had a general store across the road where we bought penny candy and cold drinks. The river was bad to flood in those days, covering up the primary route to downtown Dyersburg and the surrounding neighborhoods. Nowadays, it only happens when there's a rainy spell, which ain't often. Global warming and all that.

Pierce moved into a bigger building a few yards up and passed the business onto his son Danny. I can't tell you how many folks that bunch fed on credit over the years, but Big Ernie knows and has it all written down for St. Peter. The same can be said for Van and Kenny down on the right past the Dairy Queen. It's all right there on the way home, everything you might need from an ice cream cake to a can of hominy or a rib-eye. They're on special pretty often and grill up real nice.

If you turned left at Pierce's store you would end up shortly at Miss Christine's where I spent my time while Mama and Daddy were busy workin' for a living. Her husband's name was Joe and his parents were Mother and Father Morris. There was a big sandbox where we played for hours on end under the mimosa trees that we climbed up and talked in. The boys were mean as snakes and the girls were, well. Just girls. It's funny how boys show affection with the pop of a rubber band or a well timed pat on the back. Not really "haha" but more like "i like u..do u like me?" There was chicken pot pie more often than not for lunch and not the homemade kind. Between meals we would explore the big pasture that fronted on the woods and pretend we were bear hunters or snake handlers. Maybe a pirate or a fairy queen.

The main road to home turns off of this stretch and passes by UPS and a trailer park. The major busy north/south US highway has a crossover that, if you time it just right, you can pass over all four lanes and onto the blacktop without missin' a beat. Once I get by the big pond, I can drive it blindfolded past the cotton and corn fields down to my little lane on the left, right past the golf course road. Almost hit a deer down there once when it was runnin' out of the corn. BabyGirl DID hit a deer. Scared the crap out of her. When she swerved to miss hitting a bunny rabbit on Pecan Lane and ended up in the ditch, it scared the crap out of me!

The mayor of Samaria Bend lives down road a piece from my turnoff. Her name is Mozella and she's a widow woman that I used to work with at the hospital back in the day. I don't recall an election, but she holds the office proudly and with dignity. Her nephew and his brood live across the gravel in a brand spankin' new house and there's another one coming up pretty dang quick close to it. Down past there on the left is where my parents live in the log cabin that I grew up in.

It's been a blessing. Maybe I should write about growing up Poopie.

Hat tip to Miss Cellania for the kewl site.

That's exactly how I spell it when a cool front comes sliding across the middle of the good old USA on the day after Independence Day 2006. As y'all know, I don't do hot'n'humid very well what with the menopausal flashes and all. Even iced fruit tea doesn't help with those. There are yard chores just waiting to be done out there and old Poops just can't tear herself away from the comforts of central air when there's no breeze outside. Hopefully I'll manage to get the Sevin spread over the chigger/tick/flea/grub infested homestead before it heats back up to a hundred and ten in the shade. I've got new neighbors who need a sour cream chocolate pound cake and don't even know it yet, but it's been too hot to turn the oven on to cook the "welcome to pecan lane" peace offering. Uh, and it's hard to walk in the kitchen with all those kittens scampering about underfoot.

The hunt for SugarDaddy has officially been called off. I know, y'all never thought it would happen. My romantic side has taken a hint from my logical side on men. Ms. Logical says to Ms. Romantic on a regular basis these days " He's married, comfortable loves his money, lazy and gettin' off on your attention." "Flaming, girlfriend." "Mother issues, no doubt." "If you believe it, he will come." And so on and so forth. Color me disillusioned with the whole soulmate thing. Thank God I couldn't afford EHarmony back when I was newly single.
Blogging is the poor woman's chatroom.

Rainbows have always been special to me...a promise, if you will, from the Big Guy at just the right moment in time. Who among us has not wondered what is at the end of the rainbow? Thanks to my dear friend YaYa aka Amy Claire, we now have the answer caught on camera.

What's this world coming to, and what's all this I hear about crack on the shuttle. Today I read on the internets that the space shuttle launch got cancelled because they found CRACK in the foam. Don't astronauts get random drug screens like the rest of us working scmucks? And I'm just wondering this: If they're smuggling crack into space does the DEA have jurisdiction out there?? That gives a whole new meaning to the term moon rocks..heh. Despicable, I say! If that thing blasts off I say we should send federal agents in a shuttle right behind them to seize and destroy the evil cargo to save the alien children!"

"Oh..you said there's a crack in the foam?"

"Never mind."

....and loving every minute of it. BabyGirl is visiting friends for the weekend and the boy roommate is no longer here *grin* so it's just me and the critters. The kittens are beginning to eat solid food so I imagine they'll go to their new homes in a week or so. They're rolling around on the floor playing with each other as I type. Too.Cute.For.Words.

Temps are hovering around a hundred here in West Tennessee, but the humidity isn't too bad because there's been no rain for awhile. The cotton here on the farm is gorgeous...just enough rain and of course, it thrives on hot weather. Not me buddy. I'm hunkered down under the AC lookin' for fall. It won't be long before my Mom and I can "see" it with our mystical gift. I'll let you know when the sighting occurs.

I've spent today catching up on b**g reading. This past week I've not visited many of you because, well..I dunno why. Forgive me? I knew you would. I have a return authorization to send the camera to be fixed but it may not turn out to be feasible. I never realized how much I depended on that camera as inspiration for posting. I guess that makes me about 50/50 writer and photographer. And 100% smartass.

The remodeling continues slowly but surely. It's a good thing I'm more laid back than when I was younger. Back then, it would have driven me crazy to live in the mess that is my house. Now, I just see possibilities everywhere I turn. There are light fixtures to install and trim to cut and paint and put up. Repairs to windowsills and hardwood floors to be refinished. It will get done eventually. Hopefully. Before I die!

The chigger bites, though still there, are losing their itch. I found myself lifting up my shirt at work all week to show 'em off like some kind of badge of honor. All anybody could say was "Bless your heart." I've had a bite here and there before, but NEVER anything like this. I've got some SEVIN stuff to put on the yard if it ever cools off enough. Hopefully that will kill the mothas dead.

Happy Canada Day to my Canadian friends! I hope to visit your country someday...there are so many things about it that I admire, particularly the healthcare system. While I realize that there are extended waits for some procedures, at least it is equally accessible for all and doesn't end up bankrupting people for basic care. The end-of-life care delivery system is outstanding because it focuses more on comfort than futile care in situations where cure is not an option.

How's that for a mind ramble?

Y'all take it easy and enjoy the fireworks wherever you are!