back up and punt

I'm not much of a football fan, mostly because my daddy was consumed with watching it while I was growing up I guess. Realizing that in the south girls MUST have some sort of basic knowledge about the game, I learned what I had to in order to keep company with other football fans. Now he watches golf, of all things. As far as I know he never picked up a club in his life even though we lived a mile down the road from the city course. Hey..at least it's not Bonanza or Gunsmoke.

I'm kind of teary today because of why? I don't really know. Maybe it's the fact that I'm scrambling to make ends meet and we keep having nothing but bad luck. Could be because I've stirred up a whole bunch of memories by digging through boxes. Truth be told, it's probably a combination of these. We had a sleepover with little Jordan last night because his mom got called unexpectedly to go rescue her brother and older son in Nashvegas. He sleeps like a champ and he and BG have been yucking it up in there all morning while I haul stuff in and out.

We sat on the back steps this morning smoking and chatting and I had to admit to her that I'm out of moves. I owe loan sharks my first born plus the three window no hubcap Camry. I am literally selling things out from under us to survive. And I have a good job! What about all of those who aren't as fortunate as we are? My heart hurts for them as well as for us. I live simply and frugally yet can't seem to even begin to climb out of the hole. I feel helpless and stuck. And yes, I normally try to keep on the sunny side. Today is not one of those days.

I know in my heart that Big Ernie has plans for me yet and that I need to be just a bit more patient though I can't imagine how. I found several cards from blog friends back in the day like Hoss and Jules and Drew and Joe. A handmade with love one from Jen. All of the memories come rushing back when I read their words and I'm so grateful that I have had them in my life.

The grass is so high I'll have to have a bushhog to cut it whenever it dries up. I've never in my life seen such a wet August around here. In the words of the immortal Billy Yates "This too shall pass. Leave room for the spirit to work." Yes sir, Mr. Billy. I'm trying.

^j^