Saturday, March 21, 2015

chapter next

When Jen and I first met she wrote very long and rambling posts from a pit of depression that grabbed me quick. It was, after all, the beginning of weblogs as personal history. Her parents lived in Kentucky and she was on the road regularly from NC spending time with them, more so when her father became ill. I can't recall his name but I know in my heart that she was a Daddy's girl from the get go. He was a teacher, much revered by an entire community of learners. She has two children and a cute as hell husband plus grandbabies and a kickass job with the Alzheimer's Association in West Virginia where she now lives with whatshis'name and Jake. She is my fairy blogmother in every sense of the word. Love ya...mean it.

Just checked in with the grands and she sounded sniffly then went into full fledged pitiful because he's pacing the house "waiting" for golf. Oh.My.Gawd. We need more than Seroquel! Cannabis oil would be nice but it's illegal, you know. Big pharm might miss a buck if we went natural. As a nation we are zombified with drugs often overlooking natural solutions to good health. I took my first SRUI way after I needed it the worst and have been a slave ever since on the Kroger four dolla' list, no less. HOWEVER...there is good news. My derm team has managed to kick the fungus right off of my feet so that perhaps I'll have toenails by summer. So I can paint them and all for when Sugardaddy comes around.

It's sawmill weekend for me and a welcome break from yesterday, thankyouverymuch. My friend who's about to get married in another freakin' country was there and cut me loose. I love it when we have each others' backs like that. Everybody's just ready for spring, by golly. The quince has faint pink buds and there are now visible yellow patches of jonquils plus rosemary and basil and oregano still alive. I started some trail of tears in little cardboard dollar store flats which should get me through 'til I can afford more straw. Compost, I got plenty of in ye old barn out back with puppies under the floor. Chester's litter still doesn't have a reliable head count because it's dark under the barn and all. I seriously wish we could do a live rescue for some reality show.

Faith~










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