It was a Norman Rockwell scene if ever there was one, ya'll. Me and WA cuz and Kathy Rose visited with the grands today with me sitting on the carpet stretching the whole time. I spotted a trail of blood next to daddy's ear and followed it up with a phone call to home health. His glasses which he sleeps in and everything are digging into the side of his head and ear. Oh.My.God. Ms Faye had just left when I pulled into the gravel driveway of my homeplace to find mama worried to death because she doesn't have a basket for her walker because I've been too busy working and whatnot. She didn't even have to get up out of her recliner today as they recounted tales from days gone by and we all knew the cast of characters. I even heard a new one about my drunk Uncle Harp who fell in the ditch! I fondly recall going to my daddy's family reunions as a child in Blue Mountain MS where the pie was home made and the chicken freshly fried.
We've kinda sorta been on a journey around here searching for a therapy provider in our neck of the woods and as it turns out unless you're coming from jail and have no insurance, you're out of luck. Many of them are funded by grants and religious organizations which means if you don't agree with their doctrine, give it up. Kinda' like a cult, if you know what I mean. I find myself more and more just wanting peace and quiet, particularly with nature. There is something very empowering about chilling. The most successful treatment models always employ a 12 step program of some sort for any type of behavioral issues and/or or substance abuse. There are some folks who think that if it's not about Jesus then you're just dead wrong. Hey..it's their money so the can portray god in any way that they believe. Me? I'm more of a Big Ernie type of gal. Thanks be to him I've got some apologies to make.
Faith has been sick for a week now and BG took her to the vet for some antibiotics and stuff. She is, at the ripe old age of ten, knocked up again so it seems. Things don't look too good for her this time around. Back in the spring she delivered seven pups in her first time as mom and only two of them survive. On one of my trips to and fro today I passed the guy who lives all the way down by the dead end next to the river. He's got a four wheeler and a nice wife and a lot of tales to tell, I feel sure. The Carter family cemetery is perched on a hill right before you get to his driveway up in Gerald's yard. Many times there are kids and dogs with him out to see what's up with the day. I have always been the faithful type, choosing to believe lies that people tell me or extending trust when it's not really a smart thing to do considering recent history. My bad. Eyes wide open now and ready to get my life back.
^j^
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