the open gate

A guy with a backhoe came and buried old Pride yesterday, in the snow no less. I was smacked by the irony of that gate flung open just like he used to do when he figured out how to shake it loose. Down came the ancient barbed wire fencing that my daddy put in and up with something to keep that ornery old ass out of the crops. Pride was a big hit with the golf course set because they watched him from the fairways and marveled at what a life he was experiencing with little kids to groom him and lots of hay and sweet feed. I remember the day that I realized what it's like to chop water for a horse so that he can stay hydrated and I cussed a blue streak because of all the time and energy I spent trying to keep him in. I finally just let him go until it was fixed! I got lots of calls asking if I knew there was a horse in the field. Ayep...here's your sign.

I knew for sure that Mom would pass on church because of the snow but there she was getting herded out by her better half towards eggs and doughnuts. He kept insisting we go to the dollar store and I steered us toward Kroger where the selection is a bit broader. Fried chicken and a new green bean recipe are on the menu this evening. Ya'll drop by if it's before 6 because that's when I've been going to bed. It's much easier to get back in the groove for work, ya'know? Booger's ankle didn't hurt so bad last night so we all got some ZZZZZZs. I'm on Breaking Bad round two and had totally missed the way that Jessie met his girlfriend at a meeting. Lots of layers ya'll.

Mama remarked on the way out that Daddy had told her to "go somewhere"(to hell) this morning like 3 times and I commented that it's not nice to tell your wife that. His reply was "Well she called me a sonofabitch!" If the shoes fits, dear by all means slip it on. Saturday is their 60th anniversary if they make it without killing each other! I've never met a man I could halfway imagine spending that many years devoted to. But that was then.....post war southern small town glory dripping with money. My mother's parents married when Gaga was just 16 and Harold a year or two older. The two of them had three children, two of them girls who were doting older sisters to their baby brother. My daddy's sisters, on the other hand, had to wipe his butt for him when he fell out of the barn loft and broke both arms as a child.

Damned groundhog.