I don't normally stay up too late prior to a 6AM day, especially a weekend one. Last night was an exception because, well. We had something to celebrate. BabyGirl whipped out a letter from the chancellor at UTM congratulating her for being on the honor roll this past semester. With one full-time night shift gig and a part-time catering job on top of all the studying to land on said roll. You go girl.

I have shared, in some form or fashion, the struggles that we been through over the past few years. More often than not, we were on the same page...in survivalist mode finding our way out of a fractured family and into a new life. So many times, I've wished for the money to take her to lunch or buy her something personal but the realities of providing shelter and food with a luxury here and there like internet and TV coupled with old debt shackled me to the daily grind just to pay the bills. The last time that either of us went on vacation was four years ago when we did a girl trip to Gulf Shores...a spur of the moment thing. I have one payment left on that charged off loan and lots of good memories.

Since then, she has watched her father go to jail, then to the rehab community where he remains because it's the safest place for him to be to stay healthy. His addictive tendencies are much better served by being a workaholic. I look at other people and how easy some of them have it while others struggle to survive, and I wonder once again how capitalism can be what what Big Ernie wants for his kids. Americans pay three + bucks a gallon for gas to travel on a long weekend instead of honoring the fallen soldiers who fought and died for the oil that affords the luxury to do so. My gas tank contains precisely enough petrol to get me to and from the day job until next payday. Rinse, lather and repeat.

Lest you think I'm having a pity party here, fear not. Just a perspective check for all of us in these fast paced designer times when being "somebody" seems to where it's at. I never was anybody but plain old Poopie and never will be. My faith tells me that will be enough when the sheep and goats get separated.

But dang, y'all. Can't I just have ONE SugarDaddy here on earth before I claim my heavenly rewards and commence to playing the harp? If Big Ernie is really good, there will be sex breaks between harp recitals and rock concerts at night.

^j^