Anybody who knows and loves me, warts and all, knows that one of my most annoying habits is procrastination with a capital P. I haven't always been that way, yet in my middle years I've become one to roll with it and believe that Big Ernie knows I'm doing the best I can do and to heck with the rest of that small stuff. My decorating style has taken a 360 degree turn from "everything matches" to a funky electic mix of treasured pieces and an emphasis on vibrant colors. It reflects who I am. When one houses three dogs, one cat and two (soon to be three) women, one must learn the value of flexibility and comfort in lieu of perfection.
If we had voted on it in high school I would have won this honor: Most likely to keep on plugging and eventually get 'er done. That is what faith is about to me....weighing options, considering outcomes and eventually taking action. I marked something off of my "to do" list today by setting a date for surgery on my hand. The doctor, bless her heart, said she didn't know how I had functioned for this long with such severe carpal tunnel syndrome. I thought to myself " Because I've had to." It has absolutely nothing to do with that stubborn Stafford streak.
Changing the subject, I've heard a lot of chatter about how much BIGGER Michael Jackson's death is than that of Elvis. I bet to differ, ya'll. The difference is in the way the MSM works today vs. 1977. Thanks to newshound mentality, there's not a private moment to be had by anybody remotely famous. Which ain't me or mine, by the way. Just check the obituaries or call the funeral home if you want to know what my arrangements are.
We are, as usual, waitin' for the other shoe to drop on Pecan Lane.
^j^
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