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today's poop from pecan lane

We're baling hay about middle ways down the road...planning ahead for the winter months when the cows and horses need a bite to eat. Butterbean has barked from the porch non-stop for the entire hour of American Idol at the lights and activity. Girl needs a chill pill...I'm just sayin'. Is it just me, or do you feel incredibly OLD watching Barry Gibb with long silver locks and false teeth singing falsetto? That was a very unusual genre for the top four. If it was me I'd throw 'em some Hank Jr. or Sugarland. Then again, I'm a redneck at heart. No WAIT! How about James Taylor night on AI! Or maybe AC/DC.

Seems as though I spend more and more time at the cemetary lately. I'm not much on turning out for the lines at visitation and signing the book to show I was "present." I'm a show up at the graveside kind of friend. My life has changed with the earthly passing of this fine lady who talked like a parrot on crack and loved with all of her heart. Her obituary lists one of her accomplishments as being an avid bridge player. I can say Amen! to that one.

I just can't say enough good things about having a guy friend like Scott. He's listened to me cry drunk and explained the finer points of men to me. It turns out they're pretty simple. As a member of the Born Again Virgin club, it is indeed refreshing to be able to discuss the opposite sex with one of their own card-carrying members and feel safe about the whole deal. Sex. Food. Fun. Guns'n'Ammo. Cool cars. Sex. Music. Food. Rinse, lather and repeat. That's the man thing.

BabyGirl's daddy came up with some bucks so she could keep herself on schedule with her plan to become a bonafide social work graduate sometime in the next couple of years. Lots and lots of kids would have given up long ago, and I'm mighty proud she has stayed the course thus far. It ain't been easy for her, or for me either. According to federal guidelines for financial aid, you must be 24 OR married OR have a kid OR from an abusive home to qualify for aid as an independent student. Tennessee has lottery scholarships that missed her by one year. Talk about bad timing! I should've gotten pregnant at 30 instead of 29. My bad. We discussed the option of me becoming an abusive parent but with our luck, they'd come pick me up and put me smooth under the jail and the poor thing wouldn't have a place to sleep.

The day job is always a challenge. Thank God for SRUI's is all I can say. I'm a bottomfeeder in the scheme of things and I like it that way. Do what I do well to the best of my ability...go home..and forget about it. CEOS and other O's get paid the big bucks to deal with it after hours. If there's one thing I learned in therapy it is to draw the line and not cross it when it comes to being used. Suckers may not miss me when I'm gone, but the productivity will.

Becky and Tiger took one cat offa my hands the other day but there's plenty left to go around...especially considering the fact that two of 'em are knocked up. We're about to have plenty of barn kitties mousing for their supper. As for the dogs...they'll be sleeping with me..Faith on the other pillow and Butterbean up next to my butt. They are Momma's girls, no doubt.
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