spelling bees and bill collectors

Evidently, my wonderful spelling skills don't make much of a difference after all when it comes to making a lot of money and such. I mean, everybody knows that spellcheck is a writer's best friend and all. Today I faced off with a group of my co-workers to celebrate hospital week by representing team lab. Ever since I lost the county bee as a sixth grader, I've been driven to spell mo' better. Not really....I've just read a lot of newspapers and magazines over the years. Um, and books too. All of the ones that I was in before were for charity and I competed against the editor of the local newspaper in front of a real live judge. To save time with the easy words, our PR lady had us write down five words from the "hard" list and see who came out alive. There were three of us left from a group of ten or so and even though I forgot to keep score for team lab, the others did it for me and we got ten points. Now the rest of 'em have to do the agility games and the athletic stuff. Screw that when it's a hundred degrees in the shade.

I'm trying to learn to be ladylike and all even when it's hot as hades and the lemonade would be melted in five minutes on the wraparound little bitty porches. About all I can say at this point is thank you lord for the new central unit and whomever made it happen. I went by to negotiate with the utility company after work today so the whole 300 bucks wasn't due yesterday. They gave me my first of two extensions for this year. He told me that a two ton would adequately heat or cool a 1200 square foot house sans full attic and basement, not to mention almost a hundred years old. Damn...the things we do for family history.

On a brighter note, I did send a check to the propane guy today which is something that hasn't happened in a looooong time. Just ask him, only give it two days to get to Gates via Memphis and the USPS. God love all ya'll for tromping around in the heat and sleet and snow to deliver grandma's birthday cards with money in them. If you live to be 67, the current congressional clusterfuck will let you be a Medicare recipient, provided you survive that long. The way things look, I'm not banking on it. In a way, my divorce was a blessing in disguise because I took out every penny I had invested in the market to survive in the early days. Then the whole thing went to hell in a handbasket, so at least I didn't lose anything when the market crashed. I never have been that kind of corporate player.

It's a mixed bag of emotions and shit happening around here. Gigi took a vacay to see Jimmy go at Daytona and came home to find that her sister was critically ill in the hospital and "things don't look good." BF has visited and snoozed with his newest grandchild, giving her momma a break for some nappy time. My yard looks like a typical southern acre that has had plenty of rain and not much mower time lately. The orchard grass is a freakin' foot tall. As I type, my brother is unloading the mower in the front yard for that little chore which shall be either early morning or almost dark. It's parked in the shade. Who says Big Ernie ain't good to the faithful?

^j^

who let the dogs in

Today is chore day on the lane with loads of laundry swishing and dust bunnies on the run from my cheap old broom. Besides the fact that the house is almost a hundred years old and sits in the middle of Field of Dreams, there are the four animals who call this place home and add to the dirt and dust. And hair on every single sitting spot that's not covered with a blanket. For the first time in recent history I have a good chance of seeing all the floors empty at once. Well, except for the dining/junk room. I'll take it.

We sat on the porch early this morning watching birds swoop and play.....a nice relaxing way to wake up. My BF does it most every day, but I usually lay up in the bed like a hibernating bear. That's just how I roll. I've always been able to sleep for a LONG time, since I was a kid. I remember sleeping 'til noon or 1PM on a regular basis during my college years. Of course I stayed up all night then too, studying to be a med tech while the dental hygiene and med students played. Our course was very intense, a 3+1 program resulting in a BS in medical technology. Momma had to come to Memphis and keep me from quitting the whole thing during the last quarter when I just didn't think I could do it any more. I I think she was afraid I was gonna jump from the 9th floor dorm.

The medical center in Memphis is bustling with activity, both then and now. Elvis Presley died at the Baptist hospital before it was torn down. Methodist is doing tons of transplants now and is affiliated with the university that I attended. The Baptists headed east where all the big money is, but then they've both got satellites that reach into several states. The remaining hospital is (sometimes) lovingly called The Med. They deal mostly in trauma and high risk procedures. And that is where my friend died the other day. It used to be called John Gaston and when I was a student they had THE best hot doughnuts around. There were several mental health facilities in the area including one called Gartley Ramsey where my uncle dried out numerous times only to die at the age of 36 from alcohol and drug abuse. End stage liver failure is the pits, ya'll.

If my guess is correct we'll have edible field corn in about one week, two days, ten hours and five minutes. After that, it'll be awful! Maybe next year I'll get off my arse and plant some sweet corn in my spare time. Right.

Have a good weekend peeps. I plan on making the most of mine.

^j^

beyond weary

My friend at work loaned me gas money so I wouldn't get stranded on the way home to Pecan Lane so I stopped to fill up put a few bucks in the tank until I get paid tomorrow. I had watched this big blonde shaggy dog dodge traffic in front or the hospital which was a very busy place today, census notwithstanding. When I pulled into the gas and chicken store, she turned up as I was at the pump. She seemed friendly, so I reached over and grabbed the tag dangling around her scruffy neck. There was a name and a number that I promptly called, and loaded Juniper up in the back seat for the ride home. Where she promptly jumped out of my car and ran off again, across the street to the home of another co-worker. They knew each other, so I handed off that rescue to her. It was beer thirty and I still had stops to make.

One of those stops was at the pharmacy to pick up "happy pills" because ya'll can't imagine what a sobbing idiot and/or superbitch I can be without them. Serotonin is my friend, and I think I started running short sometime around the age of thirty. If only I'd known then that a little pill could make such a big difference. I had the opportunity to venture outside of my cubicle today and mingle with another department up close and personal like. As I stood in the hall and watched them work to save a patient's life, I was amazed at the precision and team effort required to pull off something like that. There was little conversation and lots of unspoken commands carried out by heart from having been there before. My little part in that drama made me feel like it's worth all the corporate BS.

Mom has had company today, a group of girlhood friends who traveled to spend time in the red log cabin that has been one of their favorite spots. I'm sure Daddy took one look at all the hustle and bustle and just took off for his recliner and remote. It will take them a month to recover from one day's movement off of the routine schedule. Hot ain't the word for this weather so I'll just leave it at hot'n'humid'time'for'fall that. I've got a celexa in me so it'll all be good by tomorrow.

Peace out people!

the motherload

My visit to pick up a grocery list and money today ended up in a tearful meltdown of epic proportion when my frail little mother who USED to be Martha Stewart of Samaria Bend realized that she can't entertain anymore. As my brother said " Ya'll can barely take care of yourselves." I truly understand. Yet I find myself inching toward the door these days because I just can't fix it until someone makes a decision. And at this point, it can't be me with them being of (somewhat) sound mind. I would love nothing better than for them to die peacefully in that log cabin if they'll only accept live-in help. They have the money...it's a no brainer. Yet she still clings stubbornly to the days when she was a super-achiever in the social graces to make up for being heavy as a child. She has told me that, but probably doesn't remember it. That happens a lot too.

Just talk to KY cuzin and she's had my aunt up there for a few days to do some yard sale hopping and shopping. Things are about the same there, and I'm relieved to hear that she and her sister are on the same wavelength these days. I ought to just haul 'em all up here in my house and turn it into a boarding home! But then where would the dogs sleep? Or ME? Or BG. Or BF and his entourage. It's just like a freakin' ark up here on the hill.

And so, the media court case du jour has been shut down and the book and movie contracts go up for grabs. Do I think she did it? Hell yeah. But there was very little physical evidence linking her to the crime. My theory is that she has multiple personalities and the bad one killed the baby. She is too detailed in her descriptions of things that obviously ever happened and there was a certain ritualistic bent to the heart on the duct tape as a morbid little message. I do believe that the entire family is effed up as a goose and allowed her to manipulate them to her own advantage, time and again. She's a very proficient liar, in my opinion, on the same page with what's his name in Silence of the Lamb. I'm just saying. DNA evidence is no longer something that is used to free people from jail 20 years later. It is the gold standard of court evidence. Case closed. Now, let's talk about happy shit.

We had a nice visit with some old friends yesterday but passed on the fireworks and crashed early. The food was to die for as usual and it was much nicer not having to wade through 300 people and step over the power cords for the karaoke guy. Those days went away when the grandpeople came along. How in the heck did THAT happen? I sat in the familiar corner of their kitchen remembering back to when our kids were 13 and Princess Di died in a fiery crash being chased by the you know who. We watched in on the same tiny type TV that GK was using for her ICarly fix. Somebody shoot me now.

crossing over

There is a thunderstorm headed this way across the mighty Mississippi and that's probably not a bad thing...it might cool things off prior to the fireworks tonight. I got lucky this time with a three day holiday weekend, not a very frequent happening for one who rotates them. It's been nice to have no agenda and the freedom to be spontaneous and/or lazy. We've caught two good movies on the teevee and cleaned house. Last night I found myself sitting on the front porch with two toddlers watching lightning bugs twinkle and listening to the breeze. Not a bad way to pass time! They belong to BF's son and it took all THREE of the adults here to keep them fed and occupied. Good practice, since his daughter is due on Wednesday if not before. Hang in there Jessica! BG did face painting and cooked dinner for all of us. Mostly they ate cereal and mac'n'cheese. When all else fails, feed 'em mac!

I'm one of the unusual ones my age who has no grandchildren yet, but that's okay. I just borrow other peoples' for awhile and send 'em home. I was 29 before I gave birth to BG which was really kinda "old" to be having a first child in those days. I don't regret it. By the time she came along, I was ready to nurture and nest. My own mother was 24 when she had me and turned out her LAST one at with another boy in the middle. I.cannot.imagine. In addition to raising the three of us, she worked full-time and did everything that a good farmer's wife does, bless her heart. We went to our usual breakfast place yesterday after church and had a "complicated order" to go as Bon QuiQui would say. We ended up swinging back by and met the owner in the parking lot with daddy's chocolate doughnuts for the ride home. It has become a family ritual!

No news is good news I reckon. I'll holla when Shoeless Joe Jackson shows up in the corn field. Well, I guess I better built it first! Happy birthday United States of America! I may sound off about your political system sometimes, but I cherish the freedoms that our forefathers fought and died for.

snakes and family reunions

I'm still not quite recovered from the discovery of a large chicken snake on the concrete basement steps. Dude was curled up under some boots just loving the cool. It was a chicken snake, but still. Ya'll know how I am about that stuff. I ran into my neighbor at the beer store and he said Daddy was at his house visiting with the mayor and her bunch. It's several of their birthdays, so they're gathered in the shade and under the tents and fans to celebrate family and Independence Day. Several generations hanging out there!

The corn is starting to become a driving hazard simply because you can't see around it to turn, and the deer are prancing everywhere. Since I just got the trusty old Camry paid for, I'd hate to smack one of them. BG did that one time and that doe laid in the field with a grieving buck by her side for days. It is hot....no STEAMY hot here which adds to the feeling of claustrophobia. Typical southern 4th of July weather. Thank goodness there's cotton across the road so I can see the sunset:) If I had some green tomatoes I'd fry 'em up and make a red face supper. That's what we always called it when momma fried up all the produce in iron skillets and served them with cornbread and fresh purple hull peas. Ahhh..those were the days.

Therapy went well, in spite of my reluctance to drive 40 miles, but BG drove so it was all good. I hate driving with a passion, and I don't know why. Different strokes. To me there's nothing better than having somebody else at the wheel and my feet propped on the dash jamming, especially on roads close to the river. My friend who has been in ICU died during the night following the removal of life support. He has been there for over three weeks, and his wife has not left his side except for bathroom breaks and meals. She totally adores him, and we all adore the both of 'em. He will be missed by many. My fondest memory of him is running around with super power underwear on over his jeans at the bar on Yaya's birthday.

I am mindful today of the value of our independence as earned by many brave men and women who have fought and died for my freedoms. We are, for the most part, a country rich in heritage and I am extremely grateful for what I've been blessed with in this life, peaks and valleys and all. Several years ago, before Mr Bruce died, he and my father sat in rockers with me on their den floor and they told me all about what they did in the service..their jobs. Daddy was supply in the USAF. Mr. Bruce was a Marine at Iwo Jima. Awesome stuff.

Ya'll burn a sparkler for me. That will be the extent of my celebration!!!

incognito

I've always been a fan of Saturday Night Live's comedy troupes and one of my favorite players was Jon Lovitz when he did the line "ACTING!!!" at the end of his Shakespeare gig. Go figure. It's been around for a long looooong time as an art form that lends itself to deception. See: Genesis and the snake story. Which reminds me.......yesterday afternoon my BF and me were piddling around in the yard when he went down to the basement to get a rake to tidy up the fire. He came up off the concrete steps with a freakin' chicken snake wrapped around his arm and proceeded to mess with mess with me really hard. That was our first reptile experience but I think he saw pretty quick that I wasn't playing. Just say no to serpents.

As a person who loves to read, I've found that I tend to nod off when taking on a good book unless it's early AM or right after work when still at attention. Bev asked me when I was in my thirties why I didn't just read for fun. Then I discovered Stephanie and Lula and it was all over but the giggling. A big fat shoutout to my homegirl Claude who is two months older. Today is her birthday and this woman deserves a party!! She came from big money with a heritage and has always been a rebel like myself. Stealth, that's our motto. Golden Trojans forever and flag girls rock!

My uncle Jimbo was the band director in those days and he was all about the performance, if you know what I mean. It wasn't good enough to just march in the Veteran's Day parade in your uniform. He insisted on stage band and other venues for aspiring musicians. Not a lot of them went on to become professionals, but they all had fun practicing. His daughters are my KY cousin Deb and Mo, in correct birth order. Between them they have five children who are the grandbabies of Aunt Granny. She is still, to this day, one of the most beautiful alto voices around, especially when singing hymns.
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