Holy moly! Here we are at the first day of the month again already and boy is it gonna be a hot one cool one because you won't find my butt anywhere that doesn't have the AC going full blast. And fans too, if necessary.


My pal Hossobserves several rituals at the first of each month beginning with cashing in his SS check. Another fun thing he does is to participate in the awarding of the perfect post award, a b**g honor dreamed up by MommaK and Lucinda . I've never nominated one before, but this one deserves a party, and so it goes. Happy August Hossie!

Now..on to the rabbit thing and it goes something like this...on the first day of the month if you say "Rabbit!Rabbit!" you will have good luck. Hoss is a great believer in this tradition, so if it's good enough for him it's alright with me. His sister Lucy started it, by the way.
Yep..that's Hoss on the bike over there.

Cross my heart and hope to die.

The rain, y'all. Been sitting here watching the radar and drooling at that line of thundershowers drooped lazily below Pecan Lane. That would be where the flowers are dying of thirst and the 'maters are burning up. And where Faith ate some kind of dog chew toy whole and threw up all over three rooms last night, including mine. Found that when I stepped in it at 5AM getting ready for work. I got to snickering about the dog's names today, to myself of course. First there was Faith. Then came Hope, both of them adopted and loved with all our might. Everybody at the day job had a great time naming my future dogs things like Sex and Love and Rock'n'Roll.



BabyGirl didn't think Hope looked like a Hope, but more like a Butterbean so she got a name change early in life. Butters for short. Poor thing has this gimp leg that she throws out when she runs because it got broken when she was a just a puppy. I'm not sure exactly how it happened, but I think Faith may have shoved her off the porch in a fit of jealousy. Y'all know how alpha females can be.



And then there's Sam. He was already named and neutered before he ever came to live here on the lane. At the time we had a whole bunch of cats and their offspring hanging around but the minute I saw him, I fell in love. Just a pup, he peed on my bed and pooped on the floor until he learned that Mama don't allow that stuff in her house. All three of 'em know when the keys jingle and I head out the door, it's time to go chase squirrels or something besides lay around on the furniture.



Gotta run. The covers to the couch cushions are just about ready to go into the dryer. Hopefully a little Febreze will get rid of the dog puke smell.



Keep the faith. ^j^

8. Never laugh at anyone's dream. People who don't have dreams don't have much.

The last e-mail that I opened was from a childhood friend.....one of those "if you don't forward this to fifty people your cat will die" kind of things. Now y'all can just imagine that I don't clutter up cyberspace with that kind of stuff. If you get an email from the Poopster, it's personal. But I read through the list, and number eight caught my eye, even though I'd read it a kazillion times before. " Never laugh at anybody's dream. "

That got me to thinking about how many dreams I've had that seemed monumental when I was on fire, and then life turned the water hose on. The dimensions of a person's life tend to be defined by societal roles....employee, spouse, parent, sibling, child...in-law or out-law. Yet deep inside all of us are seeds just beggin' to be planted to see what grows. Often, it is friendship that provides the nourishment to bust all out in flowers. During one particularly grueling period at the day job, during which..by the way..the marriage was shredding itself....I spent hours studying greenhouse plans pining away for days in shorts and dirt with happy customers dropping by to browse through the green, each choosing something unique and different to take home. A guy who owned such a place just a mile up the road put it up for sale and I failed to followed that dream. Now it's home to a roofing contractor. He followed his though. Once an artist, always an artist.

I've always been a sort of "feel me touch me" kind of gal. Until Mama talked practical to me, I was gonna be a psych major in college. That fascination with human relationships and cultural nuance followed me into healthcare and turned into involvement outside of the walls of the cold science of the lab into a broader perspective of the delivery system itself. Thank you Elisabeth K-Ross :) For many years I read she and Melody Beattie and John Bradshaw and just about everybody else famous for their writings about the process of acceptance as a means to an end for healing. Hurt like hell...I'll tell you right now. For about two years, I cried every.single.day.

But then one day I didn't. And then for a week I didn't. I was on a roll with this happy not sad shit. That, my friends, is when the dreams really started getting vivid. The camera and keyboard became my constant companions...comfortable friends who never expected anything more than my participation. I began to lift my voice up singing things that make me happy and selecting music that soothed my savage beast. Don't look now but I may be a rock star before it's all over. Hey! Look at Rod Stewart..he's a bunch older than me.

Here's a birthday shout-out to YaYa. She's as old as I am for two months and don't you doubt for one dang minute I'm gonna let her forget it. After all...what are friends for?

I was browsing through a trade magazine at work today when the biggest fattest rant I've ever read jumped out from the pages at me. Seems that one of us boomers made some generalizations about the work ethic of the youngun's and he was plenty pissed. His points were clear and consise regarding the futility of sacrificing family and personal life to the demands of a company that refuses to honor integrity as an important character attibute in an employee, regardless of age. I thought back over all of the times that I'd made babysitting arrangements or missed an important family occasion because of work, and I shuddered to myself over the loss of precious time with people who were there today and gone tomorrow. To dude, the ranter, I say "Keep the Faith."

The next rant was from an associate degreed professional who took offense to the remarks made by someone with a BS. Seems like I remember the phrase "dumbing down" being thrown out on the table. I work in a field where the whole bunch of bachelor degree holding workers could hold a flag burning and nobody would ever know there was a fire. There is no compensation for that extra two years where I work and that's been a point of contention for me over the years. I don't think I'm better than ANYBODY there. The folks in plant ops and housekeeping have quite often been nicer to me than the MDasssss who think the world twirls around 'em. I know they smile more.


~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Today is Roommate #3's 27th birthday. He just happens to be the love of BabyGirl's life and someone that I have a soft spot for as well. The side of him that loves to play yard boy and explore will forever remain my best friend. He is an Eagle Scout earned the hard way, back during a time when there was no male support at home and volunteers mentored him through the wonders of nature. He wears 'lotso camo and shirts with birds on 'em. Sucker lurves animals as much as me which is quite a lot. In short, he's a good old boy. I remember one night years ago I was tappin' away to my WooHoo buddies on the IM and the phone rang. Turns out he was trapped under a big ass telephone pole down Pecan Lane and there was much drama and hand wringing before the rescue party got his butt out of that ditch. As I recall, it was just him and me down there, him struggling against the weight of the pole and me rubbing his red head and telling him he was gonna be okay. I've got to tell you, I had my doubts at that moment that there was going to be a happy ending to the whole deal. If he hadn't had a cellphone in his coveralls there wouldn't have been because I'm just too old and fluffy to be runnin' a mile down the road for help. At the time, I didn't even own one.

All's well that ends well though. Since that night, Gumbler has been a constant presence in some form or fashion. He fixes shit, which a single gal can mightily appreciate. Dude doesn't mind gettin' dirty and sweating doing yard work because he enjoys it like I do. Except for the sweating part ;) We do things spontaneously when he and BG are around. Stuff like making homemade ice-cream or ridin' around listening to AC/DC. We all like a shot of ice cold Crown when the occasion warrants it. And we always.....always, have each others' backs.

Happy Birthday Gomer. Keep the faith. ^j^

Thanks for all the well wishes y'all. Doc Colon said the view was the same as five years ago....diverticulosis and hemmohroids plus some kind of little bleeding thing that got zapped with a soldering iron. The cervical tissue shows mild dysplasia as it has for the entire last year. GYN doc says he expects a normal pap smear in three months. We shall see.

As you can see ( or is it just me ) there is no stuff here on the old b**g other than my words. Now you can call me vain, but I just hate to give up a place where a Google search ends one right smack dab here on Pecan Lane at first pass. I need a new look around here...something that reflects the kickass woman that I am after crossing the river Jordan and all. All of Tamara's HTML is sittin' there on the template and I don't have a clue how to start over. Any volunteers? Please keep in mind that I am a poor girl.

I've read more than usual this past week which is a luxury that I miss. Stephanie and Lula are up to Thirteen now and I'm right on their tails lovin' every minute of their adventures. Also read a few verses from the "Happy Chapter" aka Phillipians. My dear friend Rebecca made the remark about how happy those letters make her back when I was teaching Sunday School to the FUMC mafia kids. Last I heard she was somewhere up in Massachusetts but that was some time ago. Ain't it funny how we lose touch?

I go back to the day job in the AM. Our country is still intact following Cheney's short reign. SugarDaddy remains just a fantasy but I'll settle for some milder than usual summer weather around Pecan Lane with a nice dose of friends and family to add pizazzz to this life of mine.

Doesn't get much better for a smartass country gal. I'm just saying.

^j^

If the MSM is correct, tomorrow Dubya will go under the influence of legal drugs and Cheney will be in charge of the country for a few hours.

Call me cynical, but I see a trend here. Y'all won't find me anywhere NEAR a dove field on Saturday.

^j^

Some time ago, my old buddy Clarence gifted me with a subscription to another b**gging place. I tried it out and just couldn't bear to leave the outhouse and the footprints and swing that Tamara crafted from way up there in Canada at Cybervassals for me. I'm a sentimental sap like that.

When I first started this b**g it was a means of self expression....a connection to the world outside of my own little monotonous go-to-work-and-come-home-to-nothing- but-problems-to-deal-with-alone sort of deal. I had been divorced for a few years and had a lot of "issues" to work through regarding that past. It's over five years now, and those wounds are healed as best they can be. I'm ready to move onto something different. If y'all wanna come along, I'd be tickled to death to have you. If not, that's all good too.

When I get settled in, I'll send you a card and let you know where I'm at.

Love ya....mean it. ^j^

0600 Drove myself to the hospital in my trusty old Camry to find that one of my favorite nurses had left a teddy bear on my bed in the "executive suite." Thanks Joycie, Karen and Janet :)

0630 Grumpy anesthesiologist makes his appearance and never looks up from the chart. We have "history of conflict" on the job during times when he gets demanding and refuses to see the other side of the coin.

0700 Nice nurse wheels me back to pre-op holding where I'm the first one in, and starts an IV flawlessly. Got an inside look at how the OR crew begins one of their busy days. Note to self: New guy CRNA his nice butt.

0710 Perky CRNA listens to "tight" chest and orders Albuterol treatment which was delivered quickly by perky RT. Note to self: Remember to be more perky on Mondays.

0715 OB-GYN half of the surgical team checks in and tells me he'll holla back when the path report comes. Like he says, I'll probably see it before he does!

0720 CRNA shoots something in the IV that dries up every bit of saliva in my body.

0722 Nice nurse wheels me to OR. Somebody hits me with something that sends me to never-never land.

???? Wake up in post-op and it's all over but the generation of path reports and expelling of MUCHO gas from the gut area. Let's just say I farted like a 300 pound man on a diet of white beans, for about an hour.

0945 Colonoscopy doc reports in that he found no polyps, only the expected diverticulosis and hemmorhoids plus a little bleeding something or other that he cauterized.

0950 2 Diet Dr.Peppers, dry cereal and banana nut muffin. I hate banana nut, but I scarfed it down like an Ethiopian refugee.

1000 Called for help the the bathroom where pee-pee action followed quickly.

1015 Good to go. Daddy and Dusty are doing the Red Coat thing today so Dusty wheeled me out to where Daddy had my car waiting. He takes me home, goes back and parks it right where it was and leaves the keys in the lab.

1100 Nappy time again, this time with Sam.

I'll spare you the details of the 32 hour fast + 30 giant laxative pills and all the poop that followed. Use your imagination.

Question....is it just me, or has my template been kidnapped? First the left sidebar disappeared then today the whole dang thing is gone. Any ideas out there in geek land?

Love ya....mean it. ^j^

As if anybody counts how many posts they've done! B**gger reminded me that I've passed the milestone into the danger area of being an addicted web fiend, thankyouverymuch. Of course that doesn't count all the other nooks and crannies that I write in when the spirit moves, but it's all good. Math hasn't ever been my strong point. If I had to name one, I guess it would be good old girl who tries really hard and usually ends up in the hole. 'Sokay though....Yaya reminded me that there are rewards in heaven that we can't even begin to imagine, if we just keep the faith.

Just got the list of authors for this year's Southern Festival of Books which includes one of my all time favorites, Rick Bragg. Y'all remember him dontcha? He stirred a whole bunch of stink up north at the New York Times back in the day. Too bad my vacation is the week before...I'd love to meet dude.

I should really listen to the news more closely, but frankly it's just depressing. Somehow or another I managed to miss the fact of LadyBird's passing onto glory until this evening. It got buried under the arrest of the serial killer long haul driver who stalks and murders women at Tennessee truck stops. Umm..and the latest begging from Dubya's admin to "give peace a chance." My Mama told me the other day she thinks he's silly. *snort*

Monday is S-day for Poops. Several trees gave their lives to print the multiple copies of pre-op instructions for two minor surgical procedures under local/MAC. The bottle of 30 laxative pills for "colon cleansing" cost me 72 bucks, which insurance doesn't cover because I can only afford the basic version with a thousand dollar deductible. Sheesh. And I work there. Part B consists of some cervical stuff to kill the evil not-quite-cancer-but-suspicious cells. Y'all can bring a casserole with cheese on top for the day after. I imagine I'll be hungry.

Over and out from Pecan Lane.

^j^

I can't rightly explain it girl, except for maybe a lack of cornmeal in the daily diet. Y'all know I try to stay healthy and all and fried shit stuff is a no-no according to the FDA and the AMA and all the other A's. I was out there in the front flower bed pullin' crab grass and all of a sudden *bam*! Old Poops knew it was time to break out the iron skillet and canola oil. The whole episode might have had something to do with seeing fall in the late afternoon shadows around Pecan Lane. Me and Mama see it first, usually on the same day around this time of year. Some would say it's just a fantasy born of overheated women dreaming of cooler autumn days. I say, hell yeah. I'm living for the day I can wear makeup again without it sliding smooth 'offa my precious face.

Anyhoo...the menu consisted of all things fried and southern. Green tomatos. Okra. Cornbread. Chicken. Only the peaches'n'cream was cooked in water, but with lots of butter. Only thing missing was some fresh purple hull peas. *note to self: raid the neighbor's pea patch SOON* Nah, I think I'll just plant some next year over past the asparagus bed. My cousin Debbie raises chickens up in Kentucky so she can bring me some nuggets next time she comes around. They eat Bambi too but I refuse to go there unless I don't know what I'm eatin'.

The sweetest thing of all? I'll tell you what. My friend AKCis always a step ahead of me on getting Thanksgiving dinner in the freezer but by golly this time I've got cornbread first! Unless I eat it all.

We'll see about that one.

^j^