the war on.........

Something I've noticed about the good old USA during my lifetime is that there's always a war on something going on. Great job security for prohibitionists and enforcers of "the law." How in the world would the deep south survive without front page pics of local deputies weighing out the confiscated weed for the local rag! Not one of my favorite southern moments. My mama used to be a recipe columnist for a now defunct newspaper which is how she printed her cookbook years later to benefit the county fair association. Lord knows she and daddy had enough experience between them to grow, preserve and cook any manner of things such as corn and okra and beef. We never had pigs, if I remember correctly, but there were plenty of chickens back in the day.

Sometimes when the wind is just right I can smell the ghostly vapors of moonshine cooking in the woods around our farmhouse. As the story goes, there was a drinking joint right up there across the road where the Quinn family lived years later. I wrote a story about that one time, taking much liberty with character development and my knowledge of the lay of this land.

My entire left arm feels is numb, off and on, due to nerve damage. The washing machine is dead as a doornail. The day job sucks a big one. I'm now officially in charge of home health for my parents and taking in a third roommate to help pay the bills for living in this old house. Sugardaddy is nowhere to be found.

And Faith is smooth asleep on the one remaining piece of furniture in Cassie's new room.

*sigh*

^j^