Sunday, May 30, 2010

when all else fails the directions. That sounds like a really simple thing but not one that an old gal like me has had to do very often, fortunately. There's always been some nice guy tickled to death to do a good deed for an appreciative lady. Because, well. We just don't know, bless our hearts. It has taken me four reads of the book and several trials to get the weedwhacker running but I think I've got it. Changing a tire is a whole 'nother matter! However, I seemed pretty short on helpful guys so I decided to dig out the manual and try it myself. Japanese jacks are not very user friendly which I already knew by watching other folks change my tires and swear about the whole deal. I found the spot to put it, parked a brick behind the tire and used girl power to lift it up. THAT was when I noticed something was sort of odd looking about that brake. Way out of my league. So it's sitting there jacked up in the driveway on a holiday weekend and we're using BG's car. And grateful to have that one!! I'm thinking that I'll give the guy down the road some business and forget about the giant chain places.

Farming is slowing down a bit with fertilizer being applied to the young crop. The flooded corn is slowly being replaced with beans. It is unusually hot for this time of year and I'm hoping that it's not an omen of the summer to come. Ya'll know that us southern girls wilt easily like Scarlett did before she got a taste of reality. Right now I'm dripping with sweat but happy to be here on Pecan Lane with a recent shot of freon on the AC. I've said it many times before, Sugardaddy just doesn't realize how low maintenance I can be.

I'm thinking this weekend about the US military and how proudly we support them even when we don't believe in a particular war or mission. The majority of them do it because they love our country and want to defend and protect our freedoms. For that, I am also grateful. Right now my friend Michelle and her son are particularly on the old heart because he is on the way home from Afghanistan and she is set to begin basic training in October. Together, they are a force to be reckoned with so watch out bad guys.

Ya'll remember to say thanks....for whatever. It works magic ^j^

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

days of our lives

My friend Sara still keeps up with Victor and all the drama involved with that little story. She had some drama of her own when Wyatt Ray got born a month early and had to stay in the hospital for two weeks. As we all know, the hospital insurance company kicked her out but kept his little self for intensive care so she stayed with her brother in the metro area and did the trips up to feed him like a good mama will do every time. I have never in my life seen anybody so devoted to being a mother as she is. Two days before the boy made his entrance into the world, her daddy got married to the love of his life. They fish and just generally have a good time with being together. I hope to find that sort of thing for myself before I die but things don't look too promising right now.

To quote Hillary...."It takes a village." Not just to raise a child or grow an idea but to put change in motion. Social change is something that takes a long time to realize when it has always been thus and so. My parents are still hangin' on for dear life down there to the left of Pecan Lane. They have been married for 56 years and have lived in the little red log cabin for 55 of them raising three kids along the way. It's their time to shine and I only wish that they could. Mom and I were sitting in the doc's office yesterday and I noticed a frail old couple leading each other around to blood work and appointment making. I silently prayed that they would make it home together safely and wondered which one was behind the wheel of their car.

Speaking of about those BP folks? Don't it just make you proud enough to bust a gut just knowing that they've ruined the Louisiana coast to buy cute t-shirts and flower seeds for the employees to hand out? That plus the war on terror are about enough to make me want to move to Fiji. I bet there's still some live fish there. At the sawmill today, this old dude in a company shirt came by to give us a three minute education on the new sharps containers that will be installed tomorrow. I have to admit that he knew all the key words like "green" and "landfill" and could quote the numbers like a pro.

It's official now, three weeks after the fact....our devastating flood beat the big one in '37 by three tenths of an inch. Thanks to MG for being such a great homeland security dude! I should have thought to call him before we took out across the cornfield in the back of crackhead's pickup. My bad. I don't think the hummer would have made it.

I am so very weary from listening to the blame game that I could just sleep for a month. Whatever isn't Obama's fault is blamed on Dubya when in reality it's just job security for the feds. Heck...who wouldn't want to work for corporate America of the MSM. If it bleeds, it leads. Soon as my contract is up, I'll be turning off the teevee for good. That way I can just watch happy shit like the Golden Girls or I Love Lucy whenever I'm in the mood. I will seriously miss Stewie and Dr. Cox, but I will survive.


Saturday, May 22, 2010

in cold blood

I have been rather uneasy since hearing about all the shooting and killing over in West Memphis on Thursday. Two officers were blown away on site as they attempted to stop a van on the interstate. The shooters were eventually killed by other law enforcement in a WalMart parking lot, but not before they wounded two more cops. A father son team with roots in white supremist beliefs, they were traveling in a "church" van with two dogs and the late wife's ashes to lord knows where. The boy was 16 and came out shooting just like his daddy. Now there are four people dead and nobody knows why. That? Breaks my heart. I hate guns with a passion and believe that EVERYONE should be registered if they carry one. No exceptions. Call me a commie liberal...i don't give a rat's ass. If you have a reason to carry a gun, it should be well documented with all concerned. If not, turn it over. That privilege involves a lot of accountability in my opinion.

I had to laugh at the irony of post-Katrina FEMA trailers being sold for almost nothing in a little town south of here the week before our major flood. How many freaking years ago was that when NOL washed away??? But I digress. I fear that this might turn into a rant and I would certainly hate to bore anyone with my bitching about the randomness of violence in our world today. My daddy would say "It has always been thus and so.'" And I guess he's right. Back in the day, our town was known as "Little Chicago" due to infamous goings on down around the riverbanks in what was just a tiny little hamlet at that time.

What really REALLY blows me away is just how many crazy people there are out there wearing the disguise of a church or a hatred filled belief...or both, and swearing jihad against the innocents. A couple of years ago a man with whom I did frequent business was gunned down in his front yard while getting the mail. His murderer ( whom he knew, by the way) then went into a field and offed himself with the same gun. C.R.A.Z.Y. as batshit.

About twenty years ago the catch phrase "random acts of kindness" surfaced and I was so delighted to see a movement that embraced love and pace rather than condemnation and judgement. It seems like a simple concept....just to do something nice anonymously for no other reason than it's the right thing to do. That, my friends, is true belief in faith and karma.

BG is halfway through the interview process with a different company that looks promising, and is taking her GRE as I type. Her plan is to begin work on a MSW in the fall. Maybe by the time she gets done with all this she can counsel me on how to grow old gracefully and not be a bitchy little old woman. I have a feeling that even then, I'll be all about the chillaxing.


Friday, May 21, 2010

i love my network

My cell/internet provider calls me on a regular basis to remind me that the account is just a little bit past due. Truth be told, I think they're pissed because I dropped my land line so they have to make up the difference someway. Hector at bill collection central understands when payday is and that the EFT will go through without a hitch. Gotta have a phone so that daddy can let me know when he needs bananas or mama needs her hair done.

I owe, among others, the propane guy and the dentist and the hand surgeon who did a procedure last year which failed to correct the partial numbness in my left arm. I owe my parents a big chunk which will be deducted from my "inheritance" when they pass. Truth be told, the only reason I'm still here is because of them. If you don't own it, you can't defend it. Some folks up in Michigan call this farm the TN property. Best as I can tell, Dr. Floyd Ferguson came by this land and it was passed on through the generations. Back in the day, that dairy barn was the centerpiece of an honest to goodness farming operation that included all sorts of crops and free range meat. That's where I got the asparagus bed idea ;)

Nothing much is left of that history except for the dairy barn, the shack and a few rental houses. The heirs don't seem to be much interested in preserving it so I'm doing it for them. After all, it's been my life for 54 years. That ought to count for something, dontcha think?

Ya'll pray for me and mine tomorrow because we have been notified of a seriously long IT downtime, meaning that our crew will be back to the basics of manual documentation. That is a scary thought but something that we should all consider. What if the interwebs just went away and we had to write down everything that we do for every single thing like in the olden days. It gives a whole new meaning to accounts receivable.


Thursday, May 20, 2010

hatchet man

That's the literary term that my old friend Marti used for anything scary enough to make the dogs bark during the night and scare the shit out of you and yours. She introduced me to love of the written word and a whole lot of other cool things as well. Back in the day, we would spend our entire checks on signed volumes at the Southern Festival of Books in Nashvegas. I saw Lewis Grizzard and Larry Brown, bless their hearts. We all marveled over way that Clyde can sing in addition to his writing talent. BG has a good start on a library for her own child from just those trips together. I love it when that happens.

Our daughters were a few years apart so they spent lots of time together here on the farm. Becca always liked to pick wild onions when in season if my memory is correct. Her older brother affectionately named BG "Apostrophe" because of the little ponytail she always had on one side of her head. She was an aerobics instructor with a love for her kindergarten students that couldn't be matched. M singlehandedly got me off my ass and moving for a lot of years when it took that to keep my sanity. She introduced me to a kinder gentler way of looking at people's flaws and relating to them where they are in life. Kinda' like Jesus would do.

There were many others who touched me spiritually, some of them fellow church members but all of them fellow travelers on the road of life. I can't tell you how many times we've had church up in that breakroom at the sawmill and nobody even recognized it as such because we didn't put a label on it other than true honest sharing of beliefs. Some of the tales I've heard would curl your hair, but all of 'em are how we got to where we are today.

Our inspection was successful even though rather intense. I have come to appreciate the organizational skills of my salsa sister more and more as I age and don't have the patience for details. Some people get off on it...not me. My next husband, bless his heart, will have to be good with the money because I'm weak in the financial planning area.'s not too shabby for a smartass country girl to survive with a little help from her friends for eight years. He said I'd never be able to make it.

Peace out ya'll. Looks like more storms coming.


Tuesday, May 18, 2010

little drummer boy

We were knee deep in day two of inspection frenzy up at the sawmill when my phone rang so I scurried to the corner to see if it was my day to pick up bananas and crispix. Instead of daddy, it was my old friend Tim telling me that next time we have a hundred year flood to remember that he still owns a house here. Like, duh. I never even thought of that little fact in the heat of the moment while we were riding in the back of the crackhead's pickup across that corn field to freedom. Don't ever nominate me for homeland security because I can't find my way outside of the 'burg except for important things. Since I don't like to shop for clothes, that pretty much puts me here on Pecan Lane hanging out in shorts and t-shirts with my dawgs. Shut. Up. If you had this kind of view, you would do the same damn thing and be super excited about yard toys and a free bag of Vidalia onions.

Our parents were best buds back in the day with Jack's folks rounding out the friendship. They had kids in common.....three of us the same age with birthdays right around the same time. All three of us were in Uncle Jim's band in different positions of, shall we say... performance. Tim and I were both kind of following a different drummer and Jack was the drum major, leading that corp of musicians to successful field shows time after time. Claudia was a flag bearer. Cousin Debbie played the flute and her little sis Mo was a majorette when her time came. Mostly I got free passes to get out of jail school free to run errands for the band. The "manager." Tried the flute but didn't have the patience for blowing into some long metal instrument until I turned red. That's probably why I still love Jethro Tull to this day.

I did manage to learn the keyboard, and have used those skills to bring myself a whole hell of a lot of personal satisfaction over the years. Plus, I did "Hymn for Bells" one time at a concert and never missed a beat. I guess you could say it was all worth the early morning trips to town before school. By the time I was turned over to Miss Charlene in jr. high, it was a moot point because I was otherwise distracted by life in the fast lane outside of our farm. BORING.

The war in Vietnam was going full force and some of those older kids I hung around with were a part of a movement that scared the bejesus out of the adults who were our parents. Elvis looked like a saint compared to Led Zeppelin, I'm just saying. My mother, bless her heart, took me and some friends to a Zepplin concert in Memphis back around '69 or so and I left my shoes in the car but managed to hold onto my dad's wool Air Force overcoat as a sign of something that I never fully understood until I became a grownup. Which was much MUCH later, by the way. be continued when the spirit moves ^j^

Sunday, May 16, 2010

Today was, as we all day for the grands at their home congregation up on the corner of Main and McGaughey. They went back for another dose this evening but are probably snug at home by now dreaming of sugarplums or Law and Order. Daddy told me today on our scenic route home that he and his daddy drove down Elm in Wilmer's old truck and the brakes went out on that ginormous hill. I guess all went well because I drove them down it today and the Camry didn't give out. We had overpriced unhealthy food at Perkins because that's what we do after church. Nobody has time to cook or anything what with all the hurrying up to get there on time for services.

As a United Methodist from birth, I have come to realize that christian leadership is a transient thing within the political structure of some denominations. It is a hallmark of methodism, reaching back to the teachings of John Wesley and those strange stirring in his heart. For the most part, my strange stirrings have taken place not in a church building proper but out in everyday life where people are struggling to make sense of what the hell this whole thing is about. In my humble opinion, it's all about greed when the devil is in charge.. I'm sure there are scriptures which address that particular evil, though I can't quote them by verse. Whenever I get into a rut spiritually, I always think of Becca's reference to Phillipians and all the happiness that is promised to those who believe in doing things out of love. She and a couple of others made the whole sunday school teacher thing worth the study and hassle.

I am guilty of not being faithful in ways that count, like using my God given talents to make life better for others. At one time, I did. But I gave up and went back to my little corner of the lab to work on procedure manuals because it pays the bills, kinda sorta. Prior to that, I saw possibilities for enhancing end-of-life care with folks who are terminally ill and need some peace on their way to the hereafter. I can thank Ira Byock and Elisabeth Kubler Ross for that particular trait. This too shall pass because there is no financial opportunity for those doing the right thing in our great country. It's all about oil and war and cheap imports.

Time to cook supper. Ya'll keep the faith ^j^

Saturday, May 15, 2010

the happy place

There has been so much drama around here with the flooding that a lot of folks have had a really hard time finding the silver lining. I mean gah....with the beer plant underwater how were the stores gonna stay stocked?? For five days, it was a madhouse with rednecks boating in the water and bringing lawn chairs and sammiches to the party. Local law enforcement had the entrances blocked but there was no extra help to keep the gawkers away. The National Guard showed up on Wednesday or Thursday of last week and were here until yesterday. Now we can drive through and see what's left of that side of town. Some businesses will survive and rebuild. Most homeowners will not because it's just too much of a risk around that river. I drove through today for the first time and felt sick when I saw the family grocery store that I shopped at every day. The prices were outrageous, but you paid for convenience and to me it's worth every penny to have a relationship with a store owner rather than be seen as a way to make money. The Hinson family is that kinda people, and they've been a part of MY family for fifty years.

When we were kids and rode to school in town with Mama, she would stop by there in the afternoons and get us a snack like a coke and candy bar in the afternoons. This was after she had worked all day. And before she canned all night. Sheesh! No wonder she was always tired. Up the road a little bit north there was another family store owned by Pierce and his family. There was a church on every corner in the blue collar residential neighborhood behind his business. Like Mr. Van, he gave credit to people knowing that some would eventually pay and the rest was just his good deed for the day so somebody's grandma can eat.

There is a used tire place that stakes out both side of the road with mountains of rubber and employees who roll 'em across the two lane without ever looking up. Everybody knows to drive slow when you get south of the Dairy Queen because you might just hit one of the guys if he's not quick. There is a convenience store, a cheap motel, several bars and the official headquarters of Boss Hoss. Go figure that one! The kudzu bar sits just off the highway by the river but is high up enough that it didn't get touched. The folks behind them? That's a different story I imagine.

I have heard the phrase "act of God" on more than one occasion these past two weeks and at first I took offense to the idea of Big Ernie causing bad things to happen. That's not my idea of what it's about. However, the more I thought about it I realized that it's all about what we do with the chance to build something new after a natural disaster or a broken relationship. And so it goes.

Friday, May 14, 2010

I don't know about ya'll, but I figure when it's your time to go, BE will provide a way to swoop one up to heaven for harp sessions even if you're important to other folks here on mother earth. I mean gah...the world might cease to twirl and all that. That attitude has become my personal default mode for walking the emmaus road alongside fellow travelers. It's what jesus would do if you're a believer in christianity. If not, that's all good too. There's bound to be one big old power in this universe who sends rainbows and power tools to a middle aged smartass gal who just wants to keep a nice yard.

I got off early today due to a lack of sick people chance to cut and run for the weekend. I took it and ran for dear life.


Thursday, May 13, 2010


I returned to the sawmill on Monday after an extended stretch on Gigi's couch and a quick night at home. As it turned out, this is hospital week and our department was chosen in a blind draw for goodies from the staff on 3 East. Things are kinda slow up in there what with the powers that be cracking down on the money up front. The way I see it, healthcare for peeps who want to do better is a basic right that doesn't get much attention in our great money hungry country See: payment for preventive care vs. treatment for catastrophic disease as doled out by our federal government. DRG's just killed the shit out of opportunity for healthcare providers to make record profits on Wall Street.

This just happened to be hospital week at the sawmill and we found ourselves overflowing with free food from our sister department on the 3East nursing floor. Jenny and her family lost their home in last week's flood but she still managed to show up with doughnuts for our crew. She told us how her kids don't have their toys and only a change of clothes. Her husband went in with a boat to see how things were looking. Not good, at last report. FEMA came in about a week after the fact and set up a town hall meeting at the mall where nobody shops. Kinda reminds me of Katrina, if you know what I mean.

I've made peace with Dubya and all of the operation iraqi freedom nonsense, bless his heart. Why in this world anybody would want to be chief executive of the United States is beyond me. Sounds like a whole lot of drama and wasted taxpayer money. Gigi told me that the national guard still has the kudzu bar locked down over by the railroad tracks into town. No traffic moving south to north either. Everybody has a recurrent dream and mine is driving smooth off of the 51 business route into the headwaters of the Forked Deer river up there by the entrance to town, proper.

Maybe someday this too shall pass. I always leave room for the spirit to work ^j^

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

words of wisdom

When considering a great escape from ginormous headwaters that are rising wildly by the minute, never EVER catch a ride in the back of a crackhead's pickup truck 'lest ye might be thrown around wildly in the back of said truck while making an absolutely non-essential trip through the muddy corn field to move your (unpaid for) vehicles out of the muddy water. Sheesh. Dunderhead was already on the way, no less. BG says I an always an impatient sort and I reckon I can be. I mean, how many easy on the eyes smartass country girls would remain single after 8 tortuous years of some serious loving on a not so regular basis. That would be me.....the picky one who believes in fairy tales.

Got the yard mowed today thanks be to the traveling John Deere that Daddy swore didn't work even after Jeff delivered a brand new one to his doorstep. We should have thought of that last year before I paid that crew to do it in twenty minutes flat. It was kinda nice not to get all hot and sweaty and covered in grass. There's some kind of monster warm front coming up from the south...more than likely oil fueled, compliments of BP. Those fuckers business people are worse than democrats if you ask me. I mean gah...all they want us to do is destroy mother earth by buying bigger vehicles and fueling them up.

Humility is something that can only be acquired by meeting life as it comes, one day at a time. There are so many folks that have taught me that lesson that I couldn't being to name them all. That's okay, though. They know who they are.


Monday, May 10, 2010

in a rut

I found myself thinking about Hoss today, post hundred year flood. He came to visit Pecan Lane a few years ago, failing to mention that he needed oxygen at a moment's notice. I was the next leg on his progressive dinner through blogger heaven. Leaving Vegas, he headed to Michigan where he was pampered amongst the wildlife with Vicki and her family. Next stop? Memphis TN, home of none other than Graceland. My friend picked him up and we met at another friend's antique tea room halfway up 51. I failed to realize at the time that I was learning about life and death from one who knew it up close and personal. After I bought him got him drunk on jack, we went for a ride over toward the river. The field road was really MUDDY so I managed to get the car stuck and walk back to the house and call a wrecker. Left him there to die....or so he said. That was one pissed off old man when we found him half a mile from the house.

The rapid rise of this water scared the bejesus out of most everybody who's remotely in the vicinity of a Tennessee river. Our town had its' entire southern business route wiped out in a matter of one week. I try to think of it as something positive, even though I will forever miss the Plaza food store. Those people are real and care about their neighbors. I've got lots of stories to tell and pictures to post but I'm just tickled to be at home with the dawgs right now listening to Rock 92.3. Bubba brought the mower out yesterday but it rained today so, there ya go. Sounds to me like my cue to get clean and into jammies.

I believe in miracles, don't ya'll?

Thursday, May 6, 2010

state of emergency

Lord have mercy ya'll...this has been a very interesting week to say the least, what with all the flooding in the western half of our great state. I took a shitload bunch of pictures of dodo water from the mighty Forked Deer's capricious leap up over the levees and banks that irrigate our farm and provide wetlands for all sorts of nature and such. Unfortunately ATT is not very kind when it comes to providing service for displaced families. Something about lines being underwater or some such nonsense.

The southern part of Dyersburg is ruined, business wise. My favorite place to stop for beer and cheese with some meat on the side floated early on. Sources say that they saw the ramen noodles swimming up next to the ceiling at the Plaza. No more Dairy Queen either. I can only hope that Boss Hoss will live to tell the story of our hundred year flood. Last I heard the kudzu bar had nothing damaged except for a week away from the daily domino game. Don't know about the Hideaway. Cops won't let us in to check it out.

Mom and Daddy are fine, much thanks to Bubba and his connections with the municipal airport. We have driven down the runway several times over the past few days to check on our parents and measure the water level. As of this morning it seems that the headwaters are receding and we should be able to celebrate Mother's Day without a boat. If that what it takes to get to church with a red rose, so be it.

When I was a kid daddy used to put a board up on the front of his truck to push the water out of the way...always on a mission to keep our family high and dry. We had an old red Chevy station wagon with holes rusted out in the floors out back. Whenever we moved to town for a week or so during a natural disaster, me and my friends would watch the road move under us and make up stories about snakes and other dangers down there in the swirling brown muck. Most of what I remember is how nature flourishes when Big Ernie decides to start over. Those ditches were always filled with tadpoles during spring. New life, if you will.

Whenver I get back to the easyshare software, I'll share some flood pics with ya'll. The thing'll never believe it if you weren't here .


Monday, May 3, 2010

floatin' our boats

In case you're on a tropical island somewhere with a fruity drink being delivered by the oh-so-sexy pool boy, you might like to know that the great state of Tennessee aka the Volunteer state has taken a licking from mother nature this past few days. My particular 'burg was spared the brunt of the damage but now we are being flooded by rivers ever which'a'way. When I was a kid it was nothing for Daddy to put a board on the front of his truck to push through the floodwaters of the north fork of the Forked Deer which surrounds our farm. It makes for very rich cropland when mother nature is in a good mood but when it floods? Not so much. During the sixties, the corp did dredge and channel work to keep the flooding to a minimum but that didn't help much this time. I have never EVER in my years here seen the river rise as fast as it did today. I got a phone call about ten from my brother giving me a heads up on the situation and by the time BG and I went to town and came back 45 minutes later, the road was impassable. We had lunch from Miss Bea's and groceries when we pulled up to the parking lot of Tim's Cycle Shop and parked our cars on safe ground. Or so we thought.

Clara and her family were headed in with a county truck so we hitched a ride in the back with James Frank and our supplies. I swear ya'll...that truck floated! That's when I began to speak in tongues. BG has never heard me talk to Big Ernie in quite that way and she was having a ball watching the deer run for higher ground. I grabbed her hand and held it, praying with all my United Methodist spirit for our driver to keep the crew safe. And by golly, she did. The grands got lunch and we made it up Pecan Lane with our stuff. Somewhere between the highway and our lane we spotted six deer running across the water heading for a safe haven. BG said that's about the time I began speaking in tongues.

We decided to go for a walk and check out the view from up at the old dairy barn. About the time we topped the hill, the guy who owns the shop where we parked our cars called and said that the water was up to the bumper. Perhaps we might need to come move them?!? Alrighty then. I had noticed earlier that a truck with a big lift came down to the dead end of our lane to bond with get the crazy ass guy we've nicknamed Beethoven to get the heck out of dodge and join his wife and kids in town. Being the quick thinker that I am I hoofed it on down there to catch a ride in his truck through the water so that we could move our cars to drier ground. And how did that work for ya, you ask? Not too good. Dude decided to take a detour through the muddy field at about fifty mph slinging us girls and his infant child all over the damn place. We started banging on the back window of his truck and screaming for him to let us out and we would just wade in the water but he was oblivious. Right about the time I was ready to do a nose dive out of the truckbed into the mud that crazy sucker hit pavement and we proceeded down the ginormous hill of the city golf course straight into the ass deep water. We made it to the other side right about the time that nasty river muck was inching up toward the doors. Our neighbor politely offered us a ride on her gator so that we didn't have to run into mr. snake with our bare legs.

You know what the funny thing is? BG had called our friend Dunderhead to see if he could get through and help us save the totally not paid for but well insured vehicles from certain death but instead of waiting on him we caught a ride with two crackhead idiots with a baby in the back. I kid you not...I couldn't make this shit up if I tried. We got to Gigi's house and old Dunder showed up to ferry us back home with his faithful black lab/pit mix named Earl riding in the back. He loved the view, no doubt. As for us girls we were just tickled to be INSIDE the truck this time.

I sure do hope the country road guy put up a sign there by the highway. I would sincerely hate for Sugardaddy to drown trying to get to my house with the glass slipper. That would not be a happy ending, to say the least. Last I heard, Farmer Joey's oldest daughter is in labor and will hopefully deliver a new little farmer to the family sometime tonight.

Life is good ^j^

Saturday, May 1, 2010

the watch box

Lord have mercy, ya'll! I'm beginning to believe that Big Ernie is totally pissed off about the whole global warming thing because everybody here in our part of the southeastern US is just totally flooded out and wondering when the grand prize game of severe weather will stop. It never ceases to amaze me that global warming is a reality and El Nino/A is a reality. Farmer Joey and his crew carefully sprayed and planted last week and the baby cornstalks are covered in mud. Don't ever pretend to believe that farmers aren't gamblers because I can testify otherwise. about that whole BP thing? They've been gambling too...on our addiction to fossil fueled energy as a way of life. Early reports noted that the ginormous oil spill and loss of life was "not bad." I beg to differ, as noted by the fisher people who make their living off of real live catches from a boat. If the price of shrimp goes up any higher, ya'll can just throw some in my casket on burial day instead of sending flowers. Shame on you. Shame on US for not saving that with which we have been blessed.

Meanwhile, back in AZ there's a big old clusterf**ck going on with the immigration thing, probably because the majority of their workforce doesn't have papers to live here legally. Something about taxes and healthcare and whatnot if my memory serves correctly. The sad truth of the matter is that most of those who live in Mexico are dying to cross the border and get a piece of our pie without having to become citizens. A whole bunch of them are victims dope dealers who sneak across to sell their wares because homegrown is illegal in our country under any circumstance even when you're dying. keeps the feds in cushy jobs, ya know? If I had a dime for every picture I've seen on the front page of my local newspaper of some bubba type sheriff's deputy posing with hemp on the table, I'd be in Fiji right now. I doubt they've got oil washing up on the beach there.

Casa Poops looks a little bit more like home with the addition of hand-me-downs from all the folks who love me and want me to be happy. Now if I could just find the dang tennis shoes that don't hurt my feet, it'll all be good for awhile. Gotta have 'em to walk the concrete floors at the sawmill and save!lives!!

Peace out ^j^