Sunday, February 28, 2016

reach out

That's one of the new politically correct ways of saying "talk about it".  If I reach out to you on a matter , I am engaging in dialogue about a certain subject with whomever I reached out to.  Uh...sounds simple enough, right?  It sounds much kinder and gentler than "having a conversation".  I know...I'm thinking too much again!  It's what I do to avoid digging through the mess that is my home right now.  I got an invitation to worship this morning and still can't find a bra so, there you go.  We shall worship at the house and have clean clothes.

Though not surprised, I am sorely disappointed in South Carolina and the way they rolled.  While Republicans are out in droves voting for whichever idiot is ahead at the moment, Dems are sitting back and not participating at a grassroots level because "Sanders can't win."  That is bullshit and can be turned around if everybody gets off their ass and votes instead of naysaying.  I will vote for him all the way to the end, even if Independent, because I believe in what he stands for.  Hillary, not so much.  I have respect for her on many levels including women's rights and such but just back away from the money sister.  It's no different when you do it than when the others are on the take.

The collapse of Wall Street is everybody's biggest fear.  Gotta' prop all the big ones up so it doesn't crash, right?  Also bullshit.  The closing of hundreds of WalMart stores is just the beginning of our mass exodus away from outsourced cheap consumerism.  Others will follow, and our fragile support system for the unemployed will more than likely break from the overload.   Healthcare is at an all time tipping point with cost of care out of reach for even the well insured.  Our hospital has initiated a program to attract uninsured customers with a reasonable co-pay on basic services and diagnostics.  That's a start, you know?  It can't be ALL about the money.

I've had the house to myself this weekend since the weather is nice and the contractors are out doing guy stuff which is okay with me. When I came home that day and everything is covered in plastic I almost went to a damn hotel.  They all drop whatever it is where it falls and pick it up at the end.  Thank the lort I have Mama's Electrolux to help out .  There is no light because all the fixtures are being replaced so I'm roaming around between lamps and windows trying to get stuff half ass straight.  I mean I'm a slob and all but lord have mercy........

That being said I'm really excited *grin* to be paying increased rent for the coming years to cover said improvements which doesn't really make sense to me but I'm just the tenant.  I do not own it.  I have lived here for 28 years paying a reasonable rent for a hundred year old drafty farmhouse with ginormous utility bills and bad plumbing.  Yet it is my home, and I will stay here until it's not in the budget anymore like at retirement age.  I suppose I'll end up in one of those apartments for the old people!

Hope ~

Saturday, February 27, 2016

on a mission

Today that goal includes finding my bra because I have not a CLUE where anything is right now including said undergarment.    Early morning chores and visitation were done in my Bernie hoodie which doesn't require support.  Maybe later as the day warms I can shed that and let the girls flop under a t-shirt.  I got sad news on the way to town from my friend Annie about Babysister's beloved husband Fred.  "Mr. Babysister" as I call him, passed yesterday after a long ordeal with Alzheimer disease.  She and her children managed to care for him at home up until a week or so ago when hospice became their only option.  They are now gathering, as families do, to plan his military funeral.  Salute to you Fred Boone.

My daddy asked for that as well and it was chilling to hear Taps played by the officers present at the graveside.  That was AFTER the tornado siren went off which I thought was appropriate for a soul like his.  He could definitely be full of strong wind!  My youngest brother is a weather reporter so that fit as well.  There was no such send off for Mama, just mud and cold as we laid her to rest.  I've been back once with Bubba but am still not ready to see the final date engraved on that stone.

It's been a whole moon cycle since she died following a heavy snow and a lot of sickness and drama.   Since then the grass has greened up and robins have arrived.  It is amazing to sit at this huge window and watch nature roll past.  The fields are waiting to be planted so birds are everywhere picking around and hanging out.  The hum of the washing machine tells me that life will be somewhat back to normal in the *cough* near future.  Whatever the hell normal is!!

So, for today i'm focused on gratitude and love and sweeping up sawdust.  My heart is in a lot of other places like Cedar street and Casa Grands as we process and move onto the next chapter.  Estate sale ladies are still doing their Saturday thing and I've got more crap stuff for them to sell once I get it sorted.  My visit this morning was a truly humbling experience and one I hope never happens again.  Faith can make that happen.

Growth ~

Friday, February 26, 2016

kudzu traffic

Well well, all I have to do is start talking about bars and the readership jumps way up there past funerals and bereavement.  Here's an odd coincidence of husband's grandfather was murdered at a bar called Cotton's about a mile from my house over by the river.  It was the era of prohibition and those  hidden spots were a haven for booze, gambling and guns.  Oh.  And barflies!   The first short story I ever wrote was about that very place.  It's history, as they say.  The lay of Tom Cotton's land.  Later Mr. Quinn and his wife Ida lived there and raised their girls.  We had lots of homegrown strawberries during that time.

Son and Lockie lived right across from our house and had an entire farm consisting of chickens and hogs.  The backwater from the river would flood up behind their house up to the coops and me and the Johnson kids would run barefoot in the mud chasing tadpoles.  We are still one big family until that chapter ends. Talked to BG today and she's well as can be expected.  I'm so freakin' grateful not to have plastic draped over everything that I could just die.  I reckon that makes me low maintenance.  


Thursday, February 25, 2016

stranger than fiction

Almost all of the tales I tell here are real life experiences that I've either had myself or shared through somebody else and the bottom line is this : Everybody has a story begging to be told  I still regret not spending that weekend in May years ago with my late friend Deb so she could tell me hers.  I knew the highlights and was pretty afraid of the details so it's probably best that it never got written. Her entire family turned against her on that deal and she was the victim.

Many families fracture over kept secrets that spill out at the oddest times and manifest themselves as shady behavior or mad rants on the porch while sipping sweet tea or mint juleps.  We dress up our crazy and parade around the yard in the South.  My day was totally made when Yaya stopped by with a surprise that reminded her of me.  If the paint ever dries around here it will be hung in a place of honor like all the other pieces that I treasure.  My soul is so weary that I just want to quit sometimes.  But then I think about the fact that I'm all I've got and that sort of keeps me motivated to be somewhat sane because if you're not that and kind of healthy you end up you-know-where.  I'm counting on BG to use that social work degree in caring for me when I'm not able.  Almost a nurse, you know.

Everybody and their brother is sick again so you know what that means...hustle and flow at the sawmill.  In my younger years Thursday was ladies night because the kudzu bar had dollar beer and we rarely had to buy our own date.  I was single and they were all eternally married but looking and it was harmless fun.  I always knew that they had my back, no questions asked.  Yaya fell off the dance floor onto Bill Bizzle's head and then smacked the tile. Me and Redneck Friend witnessed it from behind the pool table and thought we were having flashbacks.

There was a guy named Sap who owned it first and then Geno bought it after he sold the deli.  When Gene got ready to become a retirement farmer Terry and Bev scooped it up.  After Terry died, Bev sold to Dunagan who owns it still.  It's cozy and familiar territory for a lot of folks.   The Hideaway sits right behind it next to the river and David Lee's shop/home.  Plus...always with the tire places!  There is a trail that winds around behind there over the iron bridge into Southtown where it always floods.  I've spent a lot of time on that bridge peering over the rails and not worrying at all about falling in.  I mean...there's snakes down there y'all.

Over at Forked Deer south on the 51 highway is the part where Daddy always said hello to Bradshaw on the way home from church.  I think he owned that parcel at one time or another.  He was the clerk and master of our court system for many years and had a wife named Mommy, I kid you not.  Plus, he made excellent chocolate pies.  Lily is perched on the new window sill bird watching which is pretty fun to watch.  She talks to them you know?  Mostly she's asking me for food which I can't find because it's all covered in plastic.  Well except for the view from my desk.

Grace ~

Wednesday, February 24, 2016

change is eternal

I'm sitting here lookin' like this with painters in two rooms and country music to boot.  It was raining at dark yesterday and the bed, though not in its' usual spot, felt like heaven.  I can feel the puppies waking up during the night and propping a little nose on some body part.  People think I'm crazy but there's nothing like it except for snuggling with a baby.

I had a meeting at work this morning which was brief and productive because we stay connected and organized.  Always.   Michelle and I discussed the future of our common ground and decided that it's just the way of the world these days.  I heard some crazy news while there and we're all on a mission to find out what's up.  Time will tell.  Sounds like all roads lead to Cedar street eventually.

I remember visiting the jail with a picnic lunch back when Doober was incarcerated for some charge or another.  His girlfriend and I worked together as young med techs at Parkview. David ended up as the all time high blood alcohol walking that I ever witnessed which was .52 by the way.  He never went down until the night of his murder.  The guy who was charged with strangling him has died as well.   The way I see it, they were just a toxic combination.  Happens all the time when addiction takes over.

So the painters are busy busy busy and we're listening to none other than Party Line thanks to Burks Beverage and all them.  This is happening at warp speed by construction standards and is supposedly much easier than doing a newly built home.  My room is done except for pain and I gave away a thousand pound TV and scooped up Mama's.  DirecTV is on the way sometime today if they show.

And yes, we had snow today.


Tuesday, February 23, 2016

the road to there

Modern media has used the phrases "road to" and "war on" so often that they don't really mean much anymore other than everything is a process.  Recovery is like that which is something a lot of folks have trouble wrapping their mind around.  I mean it's like you're never really "there" because once you declare yourself recovered and don't follow up you are sure to fall on your ass.  One of my favorite stories is about walking into that hole you know is there a thousand times expecting a different result rather than just walking AROUND it.  Nobody can do it alone....nobody.  Yet, ultimately, it's an extremely personal decision to make that choice and only counts if done for self rather than others.

Addiction to anything is a huge cause of shame and guilt and often others use those very things against us to try to "change" our  behavior.  It simply doesn't work.  It's a waiting game of sorts where you sit back and watch from a supportive position until the next move.  Banging your head against the wall doesn't help either.  Letting go does.  It empowers the soul and allows room for positive energy and love from happy places.  I know it sounds simplistic, but really it is.  It's just so damn hard to do until the pain gets unbearable.

The painters came by yesterday for a walk through and caulk + spackle begins this morning.  I'm steady moving shit around trying to get the walls clear so that can commence.  It's been quiet since window/door guys got through but there's more racket in the future!  It's the price of progress, no?  On my day off, no less, I woke up at 5:30 which is about  the time I usually leave for work and watched Mama's Virgo moon through sunrise.  It followed me to the chicken store and back, lighting the way for the (not so) trusty Camry.

I'm not real sure what's next, but I have faith that it will be in the plan.  All I have to do is show up with faith ^j^

Monday, February 22, 2016

true grit

I must admit there have been a lot of times in my life when I just went pitiful and cried about every little thing as if life is supposed to be fair or something.  When I wasn't playing the victim, I was busy bitching about what's wrong and not focusing on the good things.  It was a miserable way to be and I'm thankful to sweet baby jeebus that I was smart enough to figure that out.  I try to be patient with the ones who don't get it but umm.  I was greeted at the voting office today by lots of hugs from folks who know how recent my losses are and it was the quickest vote I ever button.  Not hesitation just *boom*.  That vote is my voice and one that women and minorities didn't have for a very long time.

I tend to slow down more and enjoy things like cute baby pictures of Adley in Lafayette or some other newborn.  I hug my dogs at night and know that they are my best friends and have my back like nobody's business.  Any fool who would dare try to sneak up on me would rudely get his ass tore up by the boys.  Sophie would probably just hang with me like a girl.

The weather is still horrid but I got finch crack today from cute feed store guys so there's that.  Oh, and plant food!  Dirt, too.  This asshat of a lawyer pulled out from his office right in front of my car and wouldn't move. Y'all know the type.  Recovering? addict with an attitude and all about himself.  He was court appointed for my ex when he landed in jail and rudely told me and BG " I know this seems important to you but I've got a murder case going on. "  Right.   You know the one about penis issues and cars?  Yeah.  Him. A lot of doctors have that going on too, especially the foreign ones.   A lot of ours drive pickup trucks.

This is what drives me crazy about healthcare delivery in this country.  Our reimbursement systems are all set by Medicare rates and parceled out to insurance companies and purchasing groups for contracted service. You will rarely find a doctor in private practice any longer, especially in small towns.  When I started there, the locals still made house calls.  Folks like Dr. Robert Kerr.  Those were the days.  At that time fully paid by employer insurance covered overnight stays for "testing".  The ER was reserved for the real emergencies and everybody got pretty good care.  Now everything is on an outpatient basis unless you become critically ill and they have to take you.  Trust's the way of the world.

Social welfare whether it be proper medical treatment or services to help those stuck in the cycle of poverty is a necessity to turn around the economy via decreased stress.  It's a win-win when you have happy people who support what the government does with their tax money.  Oh know you use it free for a whole year and then bill us two years later for non-disclosure.  Asshats.  I have this to say about Wall Street and mega banks....I'm damn glad I didn't invest a whole lot of my income over the years because I've seen friends and co-workers lose their entire investments and never recover.  More than once, by the way.  Remember when people were jumping off buildings years ago?    It could happen again, or maybe it did on 9/11.  Not a justification or reason but, an observation.   The horrific attacks on Muslim American people in the aftermath made me physically sick. So did the war.

Cousin Connie of Utah and the Church of Latter Day Saints answered yesterday when I rang him up to say thanks for the Valentine card.  He goes on and one about family history and now and again I catch a name I know from a neighboring county like Crockett or Lauderdale.  Hamilton and Agee are the recurring names.And then t here's Naughtie and Faughtie whomever they were!  He is delightful and has a fat tuxedo cat in his lap most of the time, or so he says.  Haven't heard from BS or Annie so I assume all is well.  They have me on speed dial.

Otherwise, I'm off for a day and mighty grateful ~

Sunday, February 21, 2016

virgo moon rising

Just another day in sawmill paradise for me this Sunday.  Things were steady but not overwhelming which is how I prefer.  My adrenaline stores don't last very long anymore even with caffeine.  I'm babying the bitch shoulder and stretching comfortably to keep things moving.  Torn up joints are a combination of too much yard work and osteoarthritis for years.  Chair yoga is my new BFF along with my sleeping pal the MFR ball.   We had some friends over for pizza last night and I checked out on 'em early because...4:30 wakeup!   I had the wildest dream about breaking the damn BRAND new picture window by knocking something over and I was steady trying to figure out how to not get killed or evicted.

Bubba and I reviewed progress on the homestead today and didn't stay long because actually, it's a sad feeling to be there now.  It passes of course, but it's pretty intense at the moment.  Everything is moved and it looks nothing like when they left months and months ago.  And yes.  there is a TON of stuff.    Hopefully I'll get gas money for the beach out of my part of the sale.  Interest is ,as they say, trending upward.  We begin a new chapter here on the lane soon with sprucing up and moving here there and yon.  It's seriously time to just find a happy place for all concerned.

Note to HRC from Poopie Jane:  Do not smack down Bernie Sanders when you know he's calling you out on things that should be addressed, namely disclosure.  If the DNC sees fit to let you not run a fair race, they will be terribly surprised when he runs independently and kicks not only YOUR ass but Trump's.   Or Cruz or whoever.  I could care less at this point. I've never pointed fingers at her for anything, most especially Benghazi because, hey.  Shit happens.  But here's the thing:  If you know and you cover it up?  It's like being a part of it.  Not cool sister.  That being said, I'm not sure what scares me more than a country led by Donald Trump unless it's Duck Dynasty people or the Bundy bunch.

After growing up conservative and flipping over to bleeding heart liberal, I find myself pleasantly in between party lines and looking across the aisle for strong points.  Not all Republicans are tightass control freaks.  Some are honestly devoted to the party's major goal of fiscal responsibility.  It's the trying to undo all things that have protected workers from industry over the years that will  ultimately sink them.  I hope I can be a fly on the wall when the Koch Brothers get beheaded by ISIS.

Call your mama'n them.  Tell them to keep the faith ~

Friday, February 19, 2016

peeling back the layers

I find myself, at the oddest times, with a memory of  the log cabin or my life on the farm and getting all wistful.  Today as I was working the vision of  the red brick fireplace framed with baby's breath and forsythia crossed my mind.  It was beautiful....a vivid picture of spring at the homestead.   Another memory is of Tennessee summer heat spent walking dusty roads to explore.  It was a bit too gravelly for bikes and I didn't like bleeding.  There was always some sort of dog or crow or other critters.  We had chickens in a scary old shed until I got flogged and there they went into somebody's Sunday dinner.  The only cats we ever had lived under the porch and did mice duty.  

The moon is "waxing gibbous" which means it's about to give us a show and I'm ready.  Dark nights are lonely sometimes.  I'm loving having open windows even if just cracked so I can hear the peepers.  Oddly enough, that makes me sad too.  Spring has always been a celebration of sorts for my family because of Daddy's love of flowers and Easter.  I noticed when I drove by Mr. Fisher's house today the flag was at half mast.  What a fitting tribute.  Ms. Charlene used to spend hours on her knees in that big corner bed with the sun.  That was LONG after she retired as a teacher.   He became one too, late in life, and was an icon to decades of of school kids.  They had a pool and he taught swimming lessons out back for extra money.  He taught BG and then hired her later as a teacher herself!

So I cried and I'm better for it.  At least now I know why I'm weeping instead of just going " i don't knowwwww".  I have found that naming and claiming losses in life  is a valuable tool for not going apeshit crazy all at once.  Always allow at least a year for major decision making following the death of a close family member.  You will be cray-cray and want to sell your Apple stock and move to the beach.  Keep things simple and familiar for awhile.  Too much trauma = PTSD.  And with that I'll leave you with nothing but faith in the goodness of mankind.  And umm, the animals too.  



Thursday, February 18, 2016

forward motion

I'm in the zone right now with thank you notes and about to be current, Lord willing and my hand doesn't cramp.  After sleeping in a bit I hit the streets for caffeine and thistle seed only to find that my "dealer" is out of finch crack.  It was funny because he acted like he was searching while I browsed and apologetically said it would be there tomorrow so "y'all come back!"   He's also the straw bale guy.  Since I was in the neighborhood I stopped by for early voting and found them locked up tight so I guess it was too early.  By that time I just headed on back home with my Coke Zero and started writing.

Carney gifted Bubba and I with her famous pimento cheese and I called to thank her this morning which ended me up in tears.  She and Mama go allllll the way back and our tribes have blended through friendship and work.  They played bridge together for a hundred years and Carney still plays!  She's one of the "serious" ones as Mama called them.  These gals play for blood.   Babysister and Annie and I have been burning the phone line up because BS is in transition with her hubs  and we just need to stay in touch because...Mom.

As I look around me and feel the shift in time and space that comes with embracing reality, there is a calm that I haven't felt in many years.  There is no worry about what WILL happen next when two elders reach the point of needing care but not wanting it.  It was like being on call 24/7 as a healthcare advocate.  Now the crises are small things like cars that won't start or frozen pipes.  This, I can handle because it is a way of life.  And if you don't get your note soon, holla.  I might not have made it to the post office.

Love ~

Wednesday, February 17, 2016

being dead is no excuse

That's the name of my favorite cookbook featuring funeral food recipes that Ms Jeanne gave to Mama years ago.  I stole borrowed it one day and never took it back.  It now sits among a chosen few that I will keep post purge.  Martha gets the ones I don't want which  is a BUNCH.   The cats will have to share a room with all her loot.  One of these days she'll open up her shop named The Pie Hole and we'll all bake together as old ladies to supplement our checks.  I can see it now!

Door and window guys are here finishing up and even cleaned the yard and my part of the mess, bless 'em.  Now that we're current on trash I can use the service I've paid for and do it a bag at a time.  No more pickup truckloads if you know what I mean.  It's a new day on Pecan Lane, as gawd is my witness.  I could seriously use an IV hit of Vitamin D + B12 about now because even though the sun's out, everybody's sick AGAIN and coughing up a lung.  The flu hasn't taken off really bad yet so maybe it will be a light season.  We can only hope for that and for Trump or Cruz to become mysteriously dead.   Whoa...there's my homeland security "catchphrase" right there.  I'll be in their files by 4.

I ran out of my happy pills about a week ago and went two days off when I realized that my inner child was about to hit the wall and promptly got a refill.   I do not play with that med, and I take very few.  Right now the regimen includes ibuprofen and naproxen for the other shoulder which has a bitch in residence.  BG  has been blindly trying to fight all of it without proper treatment and well.  We're just a hot mess right now.  I started crying  at work today while we were looking at pictures of Mama in our log home.  She decorated it beautifully, especially at Christmas.  I have a lot of respect for the man who is preserving the history of our families in place.

Gerald put it in his will that I can be buried in the Carter family cemetery out front of his home.  They live almost dead end, right before you hit the turnaround where Danny is. It's where I fell in the nasty ass Forked Deer that day.  It is also where I tore a hamstring smooth in half after exploring the grave markers with BG one summer.  The hill goes straight down and I did a wishbone landing in the ditch.  That leg was purple all the way down to the point that Baker Stewart ordered an ultrasound to rule out DVT.  I could not sit for 3 months on that side, yet I healed and walked again.  I was 15 years younger, by the way.  The feeling came back in about an hour after the fall but I've never had my bell rung that way before or since.

I think about my mother and father's struggles with life and death and feel blessed that  we had so many years together in an honest to goodness almost Cleaver family setting.  Well, I  mean it was the south and all but still........Norman Rockwell meets Martha Stewart.  I remember when her eyesight failed miserably and her beloved world of reading became an audio experience.  Even with a tape, she was "reading" a book.  Thank you to the great state of Tennessee for that service.  This is walking the yard time in its' early stages with a tad more daylight and more moderate temps for a few days.  Too early for asparagus, but you can bet your sweet ass it's coming.  So are more straw bales.

Gratitude ~

Tuesday, February 16, 2016

brain dump

As George would say "Oh, boy."  I will never forget attending his funeral in Tipton county not really knowing about who he was beyond my relationship with he and Sue.  He died 7 years ago quite unexpectedly while watching the Daytona race from a hospital bed.  Or maybe Memphis State memory is fading.  All of us work peeps went down there to pay our respects and were treated to a lovely tribute of his life which gave us more perspective on just exactly who George Jones was.  We all knew he was a career military man and honey do for the Main Street tea room.  He loved golf, his family and Jesus...not necessarily in that order.  She was around my age when it happened and had a rough patch like we all do when trauma becomes too much.  The stories I've heard from Sue range from cows in the pool to here there and yon. They had a good life.

I've had a good life as well, growing up as a country kid with a rebel side.  I will pick my battles always, but when push comes to shove I am not a follower.  I suppose the crisis came for me when I realized that at the age of 32 and began what shall be known forevermore as "therapy."  At that point, I knew that something was terribly wrong with my life's mission to spew anger randomly as a passive aggressive act and otherwise put on a happy face and be Miss Perfect.  Let's call that separation anxiety from the parental unit.  My very first therapist was 8 months pregnant and when she saw me for the first time passed me on to her partner the tough one.  Lucretia was just the earth mother that everybody needs to find their inner child and I got the bitch with her own issues.  Two years later, we parted ways.  We did art therapy the first day in an old church building in Memphis.

During that time I wandered and searched  the great minds of psychotherapy like John Bradshaw and Scott Peck of "life is hard" fame.  And once I realized that one basic truth?  It set me free. There are no guarantees in this world no matter how much you tithe or how many points you earn or how good you are.  Bad things happen all the time and the God I believe in doesn't cause them.  Indeed, the spirits weep when people suffer.  The birds are coming around more often now and every time I see them it reminds me of Daddy.  New windows help with that, of course.  I hear we have sixties coming soon so maybe there will be an asparagus crop.

I went to visit a dear friend at the sawmill today and found her being well cared for which made me happy. My belief that things are turning around may just become reality.  If not, I'm close enough to retirement to hang on until Bernie gets us single payer healthcare.


Monday, February 15, 2016

those happy golden years

I just had a nice little visit with Bubba as he made his rounds on the farm.  After being on call for each other 24/7 all these years, now we get to relax and chat about what's important like home improvement!   The view out of this bay window is pretty dismal today like a cross between the Moors and Transylvania.  I keep looking for zombies to come up out of the dairy barn.  It is warmer though, and I'll take that.  This is about the time when I begin to believe that in spite of isolated winter events that can be um..unpredictable, spring is on the way.

It struck me today when I started a head count that my blood kin now consists of two brothers, one daughter, one aunt and a few cousins.  Four of my cousins died in the years prior to their own parents.  I suppose it's the luxury of time that allows me to go back down memory lane and smile at my grandmother's painstakingly organized scrapbooks.  Those were moved by Mama down to the Bizzle house and then up here when it was demolished.  Like I've said before, we keep shit forever and a day.  Some of my happiest moments in this house were decorating with linens and baubles passed down through generations.

Contributions to the church keep rolling in enough so that I stopped by to pick up more thank you notes today.  KK had Mama's picture book and crystal portrait all ready for me too.  The prism is a muted version of the cover photo and it makes me wistful in a way I can't describe.  There's another one with Daddy's grinning face down the road somewhere.  Interest is running high on the sale because you just never know where a treasure might end up.

I'm pretty sure the Republicans have all lost their minds, what little they had.  Now they're suing each other for slander and whatnot while the little people die of lead poisoning in Flint and get shot in schools.   Not that there's a link between that behavior and the GOP agenda except *NRA* and "other" special interests.  I should seriously get to the point where this stuff doesn't piss me off so bad.  It's not good for my inner child.

Happy President's Day people ~

Sunday, February 14, 2016

the desert

We are having a bit of ice for Valentine's day but not enough to bother much with, thankfully.  Just in case I snagged some de-icer at the gas station.  Lorna suggested vinegar and water which I shall also mix up.  Should have done that a few weeks ago when we had two events in one week!  Hey...I was focused on getting to work and Mama.  That ice was hard to deal with but the snow?   A piece of cake.  I don't like it at all unless I'm in for the weekend and have supplies which NEVER happens.

The Lenten journey is one of soul searching and reverence for those who choose to observe.  Fasting and praying and ashing have been done and now the road begins to the ministry of our Lord and his death and resurrection.  Pentecost is probably my favorite because of all the folks getting tongues of fire for the Holy Spirit.  I reflect a lot about what it means to be a spiritual person because I have a deep and abiding respect for each individual's personal journey.  I am a Christian.  That being said, there are other beliefs out there and as long as they're not forced on me, I'm secure.  I am not persecuted for being a Christian, in spite of the radical right.  Other religions are, however.  Choke on that Bundy bunch  and I hope you have lots of visitors in jail.  I know better than to mess with the feds.  They are Big Brother and Sister all rolled into one and if you do something dumbass like a takeover of federal land and expect to be treated with patience, well.  The FBI gave y'all a month which was way too long.  Oh, and the guy was reaching for a gun.

So we have a dead SCOTUS justice and everybody's all wondering what's going to happen.  I'd say considering the political clout of the Republican party at this point, our POTUS should put some names out there pretty damn quick.  Who cares if they fight it later?  Hell they try to  repeal every freakin' thing. Congress will look different in November.  Hide and watch.  There is an excitement among voters that I've never witnessed before and I do believe that it's a coming to to the center.  Too many people have died because of easy access to firearms.  People die alone and suffering in hospitals and nursing homes.  I am not a pork barrel politician, and I could write a proposal for a single payer system in about an hour.  When you cut out the "middle men" like pharm/insurance/etc care is so much more simplistic.  These two entities have O's who make million dollar bonuses just like with TVA and the power mongers.

Which brings me to hospice.  I'm not really sure what got me going on that back in the 90's but I pulled charts and tallied admission diagnoses and found that there were a top 10 and usually they had more than one.  My interest at the time was in offering an alternative to traditional medical care which is focused on treatment.  Preventive care, especially for children and the elderly, should be a priority.  Our school systems routinely serve unhealthy meals because of contracted services.  The government funded programs like Head Start pay minimum wage.  Something ain't right here.

Palliative care is, by definition, comfort.  The hospice philosophy centers on a dying patient to maximize the quality of life left.  If your doctor expects you to live less than six months, there is a CMS benefit for the care. The catch is that you must agree not to do aggressive treatment from that point on which is something that scares the hell out of folks.  If  had a terminal illness and was told by a physician that I trusted that there was six months left, I'd be signing up.  Medicine can't cure it all, in spite of Big Pharm tells you.  My parents both died as DNRs and it still took six weeks of hell for each of them to get where they were going.   That blows my mind and makes me tired. I miss my parents, though not a lot yet.  I still keep expecting one of them to call me with an errand or just to chat.  One of the most important rituals Daddy had was fresh bananas for his cereal and it was a major deal when he ran out.  Little things like that, you know?

They are in heaven together dancing and not  in pain, loving each other like they always did.  I feel them smiling on me because I know for a fact how proud they are of who I am.  I may  not be perfect, but I'm a solid mixture of the two of them and for that I'm grateful.

Happy Anniversary ~

Saturday, February 13, 2016

cupid tales

I'm off today and starting early to sort and pile because...paint is coming sometime.   The trash surrounding our house is becoming an eyesore and I'm surprised the city hasn't had complaints from the golf course.  When all is said and done, it will be clean and new and stay that way.  Ryan will make the yard look good this spring and summer and I've got a little cash for some wheat straw so there you go.  Instant food.  Since we've had no horse for two years after he FROZE to death out behind the barn, there's not much poop around for fertilizer.  I guess I'll have to make some compost tea like Lorna does.  Pride is buried right where he died, by the way.   Nobody but Becca ever paid much attention to him but during that last year or two he was smooth pampered.  She would get her mom or grandmother to drive her out with grooming supplies and treats and  have a little fun with him.  All I ever did was chase him back in the gate!  No..really.  We bonded.

Once upon a time in a land far away ( called the Azore Islands ) Billie Godwin Stafford secured a leave to come home and propose to his love Janice Ann Reaves.  Following his discharge from the Air Force they were married at the Methodist church on the corner of Main and McGaughey by the Reverand Bagby, I believe.  The dress hangs in my closet minus the honeymoon suit.  I'm glad they are together in a happy place where their faith and love of God has landed them.  I miss them terribly at times and at others not so much because our quality of time spent together over the past few years has been "complicated."

The reception was at her parents house on College hill and I have vintage black and white prints of the affair. This is the very same house she spent her high school years in and entertained friends on the porch.  From what I hear it was the place to be.  There were cars, but a lot more walking than now because you could get everything you needed in the neighborhood.  Pawpaw owned the 555 service station on the corner across from the church.  The Silver Castle cafe and Roberts' Chevrolet were next door.    There was a hardware store on the square and lots of shops.  Now it's mostly lawyers and accountants.

I'm working slowly through the grief  in my own time and own way which is what it is.  The thing I remember most about their anniversary is that they always gave each other presents or at least a card.  I can't tell you how many times I took him to Walgreens for chocolate truffles.  The world in which they now live consists of nothing but that kind of love and more.  LilyCat is behind my butt in the chair because she just CAN be and I'm in her seat. BG went for supplies this morning and brought me some roses and candy.  Gawd, I love that kid.

Love ~

Friday, February 12, 2016

inner strength

Somewhere along the way I have failed a lot of people, my daughter included.  I spared the rod and tried to mold her into who I wanted her to be instead of who she really was.  Her attitude toward my control was one of stubborn refusal to be controlled, just like I was as a teenager.  She has tearily told me of all the times she wanted to just sit and talk and I'd be all manic and doing my own thing.  She and Mom were tight because they were together all the time when she was little and her heritage in the log cabin goes all the way back to birth just like me and the brothers.  She has disappointed me and I have done the same to her.  We never seem to be on the same page at the same time.  Such is life I suppose.

My panoramic view of Pecan Lane has been pretty sweet lately what with the orange, blue and pink hues.  The clouds are small and pretty reflecting the other colors just so.  I have Mom and Daddy's wedding picture on the desk along with his petunias in honor of their 62nd anniversary. Together again.  Babysister has her hands full with the Mister and we chatted today about the "extra help" on a trial basis over the weekend.  She is 82 and has been caring, along with her children, for an Alzheimer patient at home.  But she doesn't need any help!  Love you girl...and Annie too!

It has just kind of smacked me in the face that being naive is a passive aggressive way of playing the victim.  Wah.Wah.Wah.  YOU betrayed me.  *boofuckin'hoo* my feelings are hurt.  My ex always told me to expect nothing and that way you're not disappointed.  Sometimes, I know what he's talking about.  His ancestors were in-laws and steps and he found out at the age of 13 that his sister was really his birth mother.  How's that for a howdy do.  He was raised by his grandmother and her husband who died a  horrible death in our hospital.  At 55, from DTs with me running interference.  Yep.  Here's my sign and it's all about being co-dependent.  

One step at a time ~

Thursday, February 11, 2016

the stafford story

I actually sat still and watched a documentary about the Manning family and their football careers and I have a new respect for that kind of devotion to smething, especially when you make a lot of money.  That being said, as a Vol forever I believe Peyton is pretty close to being knighted in my book.  He is the "brand" for our new "brand" at the sawmill and I'm liking the things I see so far.  Time will tell if leadership continues to be strong and able to  think outside the box and buck.  Patient satisfaction is key and as a rural catch-all type facility we struggle with caseloads of varying acuity from life to death and beyond.  Our ER is crowded with those who are uninsured, partly because of failure to expand Medicaid.  Our state's biggest industry is healthcare and insurance and the yahoos blocked some federal money on principle!  Tell you time some addict off the street hits me up at 3AM in the ER with an attitude I'll give her Bill Haslam's number.  Oh..and Wilder too.  Note to self: make a list and check it twice.

I was thinking back to this time last year and the puppies that got born under the barn floor.  It was so dark we couldn't see them for about three weeks, but could hear their squeals.  That's when I first learned you can use your phone as a flashlight.  Yea, duh.  They eventually came out into the flower beds up front where yard guy SPRAYED them with weed killer and I about had a cow.  Fortunately all 9 survived and now romp and play in new homes.  Grandpa Chester's keepers worked with me on that and we're old friends of their families and through work.  I love having deep roots like that.  It makes seeing the big picture so much more meaningful.

Miss Mary Crawford showed up out here about two years ago or so when I was outside filling up BabyMan's pool one day.  I found, to my delight, a stunning radiant well dressed 90 something year old lady being ferried around by her daughter, on a mission.  That day it was to visit the home where she lived as a four year old.  She told me stories about her baby sister almost dying in the middle room and her daddy being so upset.  There were chutes to the basement for peony shuttle in the packing area.  She remembered a pond right about where my new window points that had swans in it.   At that point, I knew she was here as an angel to help me make peace with the don't own can't defend part of my life.  

She and Ms Juanita returned and we visited with my parents and Mozella the mayor.  We tried to catch up with corporate but he was not around so there you go.  The history is rich and deep and involves many landowners prior to the current two family situation.  The Johnson family is my own and we all grew up on the farm, some with happier memories than others.   When I visited her the other day, the Mayor certificate and tinfoil sheriff star were both displayed.

The windows and doors and otherwise sprucing up around here is something that I have sorely needed.   An almost hundred year old farmhouse on  top of a hill facing northwest is a cold sumbitch in the winter.  I understand now why there's a break of pine trees planted strategically out front.

 In other news, I didn't get ashed and I'm not giving anything up for Lent except for the impatience thing which is a done deal because it takes up too much energy.  This election is set to be one that will make history because I see some serious hell raising going on by Team Bernie.  If he does not get the Democratic nomination, he could win without them.  People adore this man and one session of getting bitched out by him should set our "GOP controlled" Congress straight.  If not, I'm moving to Fiji.

Peace and love and happy ladies night ^j^

Wednesday, February 10, 2016


I am feeling the Bern more than ever and very disappointed that the Clinton camp continues to play dirty.  I admire him for not giving it back,  but then that's the kind of guy he is.  Never say never kids.  Today's off site assignment was one that I routinely dread and it played out full force just like a script in a Lifetime movie.  My old friend Dianne was there and I got a huge hug.  Halfway through the morning I read with great sadness about the death of John Fisher Sr, AKA Big John.   He and his wife Charlene were fixtures in my childhood just like so many others in the 'burg.  After I graduated from Granny and Jimbo in piano I went to Mrs. Fisher and lasted less than a year.  It was never a passion, if you know what I mean.  Much later, Jimbo went with me to scope out a used piano that had been used by a patient with childhood leukemia.  I'm assuming they made him practice or maybe he just did it for fun. My poor ex and about ten friends moved that huge thing into our house where I proceeded to play classical just like the masters taught me.  I was so enjoying at that time playing hymns solo that Ms. Charlene urged me to scoot up to the keyboard and try to keep pace with the organist.  It didn't happen! At some point, it became not a thing to have room for and I gave it to a volunteer pianist from FUMC to practice on.  It was donated on one condition: that it be returned from whence it came.  That probably won't be here in this house unless I get a networking coach and my ass in gear. Now that I have a big beautiful view of the world, I don't feel like such a prisoner in this old house.  It's pink and blue and wispy cloud looking on the northwest side and orange and blue on the other, with backwater no less.  I'll take it and say thanks.

Gratitude ~


Tuesday, February 9, 2016

therapy on the fly

 It was snowing this morning when I got up after tossing and turning for an hour or so.  Right after Daddy died I did that for months because it was during that time that he passed and I somehow knew it.  The moon was full then, just like when Mama passed 17 days ago around the same time.  There were several inches of snow on the ground that last day so it was a bittersweet reminder driving to work in the dark to save some more lives.   Fortunately it wasn't that bad but it can change on a dime, I'm telling you.  I have a double ear infection because: Clinical lab in a busy hospital + zero immunity.  Stress related, if you will.

There will be no long daily updates of parental mishaps except in the rearview, which I'm certain will happen.  It has just recently smacked me in the head how very sick my Daddy was walking around with that hidden time bomb of an infected hernia mesh for who knows how many years. The operation was at least 30 years ago.  While scrubbing his belly to prep for BRAND NEW hernia, a small scab was dislocated and guess what came out?  Um..eww.  Thus began his saga of three surgeries in five or six weeks.  He was in the rehab on his birthday and I didn't go by because I had see him the day before.  My bad, indeed.  His checkup with the surgeon was on for Tuesday but when I visited on that Sunday I noticed he seemed very sick so he was direct admitted to the hospital.  At that point, it had to be done.  I was still reeling from the loss of my ex and BG was, especially.  

It was a very bumpy ride through the fall landing us right smack at Maple Ridge as headquarters. Once we moved Mom out of that house, she never went back and I'm glad.  It would have just made her sad.  She spent six weeks alone in the cabin except for Ms. Faye and home health plus the girls here on the hill on call.  James Frank was the watchman over his old and dear friend. Every single time an ambulance pulled up over the years, he met me to find out how they were. You can't buy that kind of loyalty or friendship.  

There are certain people who will take the time and effort to coax out of you what's swimming around wanting to be talked about, and pull it out gently.   Kim is one of those, and I was crying when I left today after she and I and another co-worker shared the grief.  She made me promise I'd tell her what to do.  Lord, girl.  That's not my strong suit.!

I was hoping the snow would stay around until I could watch outside the new gigantic picture window but there are still white patches to admire.  There are notes at every faucet that say "DON't!" turn the water off. We forgot sometime in December and ended up trekking down to the deserted Casa Grands for showers and flush water.  That's probably how I got infected.  

I've given up impatience for Lent because that is one of the most unfaithful things about me.  I want, usually, what I want when I want it and often try to "push things along."   The gift that I carry into Ash Wednesday is the knowledge that all things come in God's time not mine.  

Peace ~

Monday, February 8, 2016

pick your battles

 I finally gave up on talking to the billing department at ATT because me and agent #1 brokered a payment arrangement including a dispute on the way the new modem hit me all at once.  PLUS, I have a UVerse account and don't even have the service.  Sounds like they might be creeping on over toward the lane!  I do so love me a good rollout of services.  I have no internet or television contract so I'm easy picking for them. Cell service with them has always been a pleasure.  Shit, I've still got a freakin' Bellsouth email address.  DirecTV and Dish are asshats with good sounding deals up front on impossible to get out of contracts.  When I switched from one company to the other, company #1 ran my debit card on file for early termination fees totaling 500 bucks.  It took my bank three months to get it back from the bastards.

Here's the way I feel about all that: If contracting for your service demands  trust on my part then I should choose how I am treated as a customer or client.  This goes not only for mega-global companies but for the Wall Street boys as well.  Certain "commodities" should be out of the financial sector, and healthcare is the most important.  Our entire delivery system is so fractured and littered with opportunistic practitioners who push pills instead of promote health.  Because it makes them more money for Porsches and expensive suits. I've watched these assholes drop a door on my face as I trudged up into the sawmill to do my job.  There's a special place in hell for you folks, just saying.

So from what I hear that's what the heroin epidemic is about, more or less.  A couple of generations of folks have been tempted by opiate addiction and once Oxy hit the street it was not affordable.  Heroin is cheap and readily available thanks to the Mexicans.  That wasn't just WEEDS they were smuggling, ya know.  The poverty of the people there has left them in harm's way of drug cartels and their violent tactics.  Next time you pop a hydro or percocet, thank about where it can lead.  Needles in arms y'all.  Sad.Sad.Sad. I remember reading the news of hundreds of immigrants from the south being captured and ransomed only to be murdered in droves.

 Meanwhile Bernie and Hillary are giving each other hell with Bill all up in there defending her which is, um.  Not cool honey.  If she stands tall, she doesn't need you to be mean to the Bern.  A hallmark of Democratic politics is a leaning to the left with a progressive slant toward a better future. I don't know about y'all but I would LOVE love love to see EW kick some corporate ass.  My favorite conservative gave me a big old "sorry 'bout mama" hug today and actually got me to crying as we talked.  It comes in little cries now, not the big ugly ones from before.  My house is looking tons better and it's a work in progress.

Faith ~

Sunday, February 7, 2016

and then she cried...

Morning came and found me sleeping off the end of an 11 hour nap.  Something got into me and I gathered up all the thank you note pile and headed to the kitchen for a session with nice cards and a fine tip marker from Curry Funeral.  I made it through floral contributions and decided that was enough of a start that Mama wouldn't be ashamed of my southern etiquette.  What I have left is the food and church contributions which will be never ending.  There is comfort in that, you know?

I've talked to either Annie or BabySister every other day for the past month which is also a comfort.  They love me through Mama and Daddy and their shared histories and never hesitate to tell me to "take care of yourself and have fun" kind of like Mom did.  That helps a lot, too.  I've moved the desk over by the big picture window so that I can gaze out over the silos and watch the scanty traffic come and go.  At the moment that includes one redneck  in a truck cruising over toward said compound of barn and  ancient grain bins.Yesterday I burned off the asparagus bed and managed to not set the field on fire so that's a good thing.  It sits right behind the propane tank, by the way.

I don't know what's next, and that's okay.  I trust that it will be "a good thing."


Saturday, February 6, 2016

walking the yard

Around here we don't have "lawns" y'all.  The current state of affairs at both my house and Casa Grands is lots of limbs down and a few green things coming up like daffodils and surprise lilies.  When I visited there this morning I actually saw a bud.  Daddy and I have always been digging crap up and moving it from yard to yard like in the old days.  I have Ethel's iris and my own assortment of spring things from where I spent the grocery money on bulbs one year.  Snowdrop is out and crocus right behind.  I stopped to give Mozella a B12  shot and we got to talking about the phlox that came from their family to each of our yards.  Daddy used to walk the yard with his mother on Pate street.  Every time he came my way, there was a meandering around the familiar turf as we identified this or that plant.  A lot of what I have in perennials came from the former mistress of this old house, Mrs. W.W. Council.

She died about ten years before Mr C got moved to something safer by his son.  Daddy and I spent the better part of six months cleaning and remodeling.  That was 26 years ago in April.  I would leave the sawmill and visit him while he painted or papered and dream about my life to come.  I wanted with all of my heart for my own daughter to experience the country life as a child.  And she did so with gusto!   Pnoler and I got a divorce when she was in 5th grade and then another one when she graduated from high school. During that in between time something happened that I can't fathom but it haunts her still.  My friends Claudia and Angie treated me with a divorce party in Nashvegas on the weekend he moved out.  At the time I was totally smitten with a guy who didn't give a shit about me but he got me out of a complicated relationship so there you go.

There were multiple old sheds that eventually were torn down but I still have pictures of poke berry bushes framing weathered wood.  Gumby was the hired hand on that one and helped me scrap out the Bizzle house too.  Back in the day there was a motion activated dog named Rex after the crackheads stole a bunch of shit.  One entire wall was covered with license plates from various states.  It was his haven when he needed to get away and putter.   There was one room filled with things like the wedding dress in a cedar chest and a lot of our family history.  Plus a lot of junk....just saying.

I noticed a snake skin hanging off the curtain rod at Mama'n'thems and Bubba reminded me of the time she found a live snake in the kitchen drawer.  I would have had the big one for sure.  The ladies are staging and sorting today so I visited early rather than late.  Y'all won't believe how pretty it is when that line of buttercups blooms under the pines.

the new normal

It feels very peaceful to have a free weekend.  For years there has been something to do on days off, after work and whenever one of the grands had a crisis, which was pretty often lately.  I'm just now realizing that reality.  Oh sure, I have about 100 thank you notes to write but that will come with time.  Yet another person asked how mama's doing and I had to tell the story again.  At least I know that people care!  As an introvert I require a fair amount of time to think too much reflect on life.

Tiffany's angel up at the wreck site has lost her wings but is still standing in the mud where she died.  It's obvious that somebody is tending that little corner, most likely her mother or sister.  The door and window guys are almost finished on this floor except for the one window that got shorted on the order.  Thus, a piece of plywood over BG's absent one.  Plus, the frame on one of them is rotten so there's a big hole around the bottom that lets cold air in.

Some local scammers are calling me with an offer for a free Bahamas vacation. If I knew who to tell I'd report them.  I could care less about the Bahamas when there's Okaloosa in my future.  I'm headed shortly to get my hair did at Headlines which is owned by my dear friends.  Ever since they opened, except when I was dead broke, they have taken care of my head and kept me up with who's doing what.  Nothing like a salon for gossip.

Flu season is here officially so the sawmill is ramping up with masks and whatnot.  I visited with a patient and his daughter yesterday who knows the story of  how Oscar was abused by the neighbors and came to live with us.  Katie is still mad over that!  They have a new Jack Russell puppy and he was giving me tips on how to "train" a terrier not to be spastic.  Good luck with that one y'all.

Going with the flow ~

Thursday, February 4, 2016

cards and letters

One of our vendors and a fellow Methodist dropped in today with an extremely tall new sales rep who, as it turns out, played pro basketball.  Dude had to duck to get under the door frame.  George gave me a huge hug and we chatted about his grandchildren.  It's the little things, y'all.  Every time I turn around somebody is just finding out about Mama or sending me well wishes and that is such a comfort.  What a tribute to her life! The cashier in the cafeteria asked about her yesterday and was mortified to hear that she had passed.  I felt bad for her, really.  Everyone knew and loved my parents from their years as volunteers there.  Those careers ended when she dropped something on her head outside ICU and he tore his hand up pushing a wheelchair.  Plus, he got mad when their station got moved.  That's my daddy!

Heather and I have been trolling South Walton and she booked us a place for vacay this morning.  Lord willing and the zombies don't come I'll be on Okaloosa Island in about three months.  The Emerald coast is what's up kids.  There's a bunch of mud at the bottom of Alabama that shifts when you cross the state line to FL. Mighty Mississippi I reckon or maybe FloriBama is tipping point for white sand and clear water.  All I need is a swimsuit and comfy shorts.  Low maintenance, no?

Window guys came and went today and got almost done.  I haven't been to the basement in six months but I bet there's light down there for a change.  My father's legacy to the family that he served was to go cheap and repair what can be nailed, wired or bolted together.  I found some peace with his situation this week in the form of a phone call from a healthcare provider whom I trust who just ALSO happens to be my late cousin's husband.  He explained to me the timeline of Daddy's acute illness and how it was discovered and it was good for my soul to know that standards of practice were followed.  

This is Go Red month aka American Heart Association fundraising bonanza and my bossfriend gifted me with a red dress pin this morning.  She even stuck it into my badge for me because I was too lazy.  Gotta' love it.  Mitzi Lou was there when I arrived today and we talked about what's up with her mama which is about where I was a few weeks ago.  I can certainly relate.  Freda mentioned to a new employee the other day that we have all grown up together and are now doing the same with growing old.  

My favorite line of the day : " is what it is."  


Tuesday, February 2, 2016

the sound of silence

It's never completely quiet around here due to the constant hum of my mother's ancient Dell.  However, there are no power tools or hammers going so I'll take it.  Not that I'm ungrateful or anything...we just need breaks  from constant activity which is something contractors are famous for!  All doors are installed and a few windows.   I picked up a few paint chips but wasn't really in the mood because I'm easy like that.  Give me a neutral and I'm happy as a clam.  Gone are the days of getting off on decorating.  Mo can help me with that as soon as we have a viable plan and clean floors.

Heather is booking us a beach trip as I type that that's lifting my spirits by the minute.  It's been forever since I've had anything much to look forward to but more of the same.  To those who have not experienced caregiving in some form that might seem strange.  I remember it being that way when BG was a kid too. We are forever putting off enjoying the moment until that time when we have reached a goal like " being done."  In true unbroken circle fashion, it's never really a done deal.

I am taking deep breaths and reminding myself to keep doing that over and over but it comes more naturally now.  There is severe weather in the area and my teacher friend in Jackson spent her last 30 class minutes in the hall during a tornado warning.  It's sunny and windy from the south here, reflecting that activity our way.  It's supposed to be an early spring according to Phil and the buttercups are out so there you go.  Global warming.

So, how about Iowa kids?  It was no surprise that Trump and a few others went by the wayside but the rest of it was very heartening.  If I were to be a conservative, which on occasion I can be, Rubio would be the one for me.  I mean, we need a cute president right?  As a hardworking taxpayer/socialist I'm elated that Bernie is kicking ass and taking names.  He and EW have been my ticket all along.  Her home state has one of the most successful health insurance plans in the country for which Romney took a lot of credit.  I figure she and Bernie together can send Jamie Dimon to China on a slow boat.

Gotta' go round up some beads. It's almost Ash Wednesday.  ^j^

Monday, February 1, 2016


Anyone who has ever negotiated with a two year old will tell you straight up that given viable choices ( and not too many ) decision making is simple and much easier than the "because I said so" tactic.  This why I've been eyeing the GOP just to see if they can come up with a non-idiot.  Rubio seems like the one in that respect and I've been watching him for over a year.  I still consider myself a progressive and will vote that way but sometimes you just have to look at damage control to keep sanity.  If the clown car takes off, we're done for as a country.  I chatted with a friend who is in my state congressional district about you know who with the storefront office on the square and he said he seems to be unbeatable BUT his term is up this year. A Democrat would only receive around 30% of the vote regardless so we talked about less toxic Republican options.  There's one to watch, even though Fincher has his finger in every farmer's field in West Tennessee.

My house looks like something from a TV reality show combining hoarders and remodeling.  The yard is scattered with trash because honestly?  I pretty much gave up until there was some action toward improvement.  My view inside hasn't changed in 28 years except for an occasional coat of paint with me behind the brush.  The ancient ex- front door was propped up on the porch and blew over during the night so there's glass to step over.  It's a hot mess, I'm telling you.  The plan is to bring a trailer up here when it's over and clean UP!

Still, I am numb.  A friend at work told me that she didn't realize how tired she was until her husband died after 7 years of caretaking.  That's about where I am so I'm not pushing. The tears that would normally be flowing right now of anguish and loss were shed over the last six months because when Mama left that house, it was over in her book.  She liked MR and all, but that was home to her.  I remember her  soulful cries over losing both her house and husband in six short weeks.  I had to stay away for awhile because I was pretty much the devil.

Once it happened, she adjusted quickly only to break her wrist two weeks in. That meant limited mobility for six weeks and then she was able to use the walker again.  I'll never forget watching her trudge across that steep hill to Daddy's grave so she could "see" the stone.  It took KK and me both to get her to the graveside in a wheelchair at his burial.  Things went well until that Sunday in church when she fell and as Dr. A said, the death knell tolled.  A broken hip at 82 is like a death sentence unless you are basically healthy, which she was not.  CHF was an ever present reality and she was in renal failure.  Repeated anesthesia is hard for anyone's body, but especially the elderly.

Her spirit remained until the end.  Daddy was pretty much asleep after hospice began but she was in and out of consciousness sometimes in pain and often running the world.  We gathered as a little tribe during those final days to help her figure it all out and I'm not sure she ever did.  We know for sure that Ativan was a bad choice and Dilaudid was good.  Valium works just fine too.  As the infection worsened her body couldn't fight it off, even with top gun antibiotics.  It was then that it became a wake of sorts. The three  people that could calm her better than anybody else are Millette and T and precious Dell and they have the same effect on me.

The ugly cry has commenced and it feels good to let go.

With faith ~