the network

If I were to pick one word that has typified today's modern industrial world it is "networking." It seems to be a cliche these days what with all of the social ones and the work ones and the family ones, but still. To network, as a verb, is to keep all options open and on the table at all times with people who are your team members, whether it's siblings or your bosses. When "the network" goes down at the sawmill, all hell breaks loose...ya'll know the feeling. Plan B's look good on paper but in reality if there's no computer power or lights you have to use your brain and a pen again and mine is pretty out of shape. I've had carpal tunnel repair on one hand because that arm was going numb. It took two years to heal, but those symptoms are gone for good now. It's the other one that's giving me fits...my right one...the one I use MORE. And yes, I still owe the surgeon her co-pay. Stand in line hon.

I was standing outside the mechanic's shop on the highway this afternoon waiting for lug nuts and stems to be delivered and my friends whizzed by toward home and hollered at me. I was outside smoking bonding with all the junkyard dogs and Kate the pretty one when they passed. They called about a half mile up the road to see if I was alright and say that they loved me. That, my friends, is something finer than money could ever buy. I learned all about rotors and pads too so maybe I'll just do it myself next time. Yeah....RIGHT! We talked about the old 555 service station that my grandaddy owned downtown when we were growing up around the 'burg. It was right next to the Silver Castle and Roberts Chevrolet on the corner across from our church. We're talking mayberry, folks. Mom's family lived around the corner and up the hill directly across from the old high school. Pawpaw died when I was three so I was really the only one who got to spend much time with him. I've been told I was spoiled rotten, but I don't think that's true, do ya'll?

The hail didn't last long yesterday but the wet cold is hanging heavy around my old house. As fate would have it, BG has another job interview and is actually loving the feeling of having options. I knew that her time would come when it as supposed to. Thank you Big Ernie. We need the money. It's kind of bittersweet how I'm enjoying the process of cleaning and packing and sorting through things. On the one hand, the house looks better than it has in years and I actually (kindasorta) know where some things are. It's still dirty but at least de=cluttered a bit. That in itself makes me feel light, ya know? I used to as bad as those people on Dr. Phil and Oprah about hoarding stuff. No more, buddy. If it's not of personal or sentimental value or art, it's history. I will never forget the hot summer afternoon that I got possessed enough to climb into that hot attic and pitch boxes down the slope of the backporch roof to burn. I thought I was gonna have a heat stroke. I've spent many a day and night down in that moldy old basement scooping out shit and moving the jumk towards the steps going outside. All roads lead to the burn pile :)

I see angels in the network sense, not just because they work in lives often disguised as everyday people. When I first began as a blogger, I made friends with a very talented woodworker in upstate New York who sent me a hand carved and painted puzzle that he made. It's in a box somewhere close by waiting to be put back out once the cleaning is finished. I hope he is well and still enjoying the outdoors with his boys. I've got some candles burning so I figure we'll make it until the sun comes out again. Maybe.

YjY

acting as if

One of the greatest things that I learned from spending several years reading recovery books is the tool of role playing in different situations. For example, if life gives you darkness light a candle and think happy thoughts until one pops up. Meet the moment for what it is and don't freak the heck out at every little thing. I did that for a long time over bill collectors and money until I finally realized that there's only one of me, I don't have any assets so give it your best shot to recover what meager amounts I owe you. This does not include my hero Butch, the propane guy. I can't wait for the day when I get to deliver that cake and a big wad of cash to his place in Gates.

For the second day in a row, I ran into an elderly patient who was making his way from point A to test B and was lost as a goose. Kinda reminded me of my own dad in many ways. He depended on a wooden cane to support himself and shuffled along slowly searching for the cafeteria. Yesterday some of my co-workers came to his aid, filling his plate and carrying his tray to the table after he paid. Today was my turn to pay it forward. I was totally amazed at how good it felt to let go of everything else but those random minutes with that particular human who needed me. He still had on the hospital bracelet from his procedure the day before and was killing time until his doctor's appointment after lunch. I wandered from there to a meeting I totally didn't want to go to, and opted out on the free pizza. Oddly enough, I knew what was going on and was kinda sorta interested except for listening to that one who talks all the time. Ya'll know the type...there's one in every workplace.

It's "double your prozac" weather again here on the lane, cold and dreary. I did see a few more hailstones fall this afternoon but then nothing surprises me any more. Our local newspaper has sunk to a new low publishing mug shots of the latest suspect both in print and online. Doesn't matter that you've not been to court yet or even had the chance to consult an attorney. I figure that's just to lure their readers into the obituaries and classifieds. Since my friend Kathy retired from there, there's not been one piece of human interest entered in print. No wonder journalists want to get the hell out of the bidness. Well, except for Anderson Cooper who does it just for fun and big money because he's got a rich family tradition to keep up. Old money dies hard.

When I was at breakfast with my parents the other day, I noticed about half of their surviving SS class sitting at a table in the back and there they were with me, paying my way. None of them stopped to speak to us, proceeding instead across the back aisle to the VIP section. Our favorite waitress has been banished to the late night drunk on Saturday crowd, probably because she's the only one who has the patience to deal with them. Last time I was in the john ladies room, the dang soap dispenser was torn off the wall by some wild ass kid who had too much at the bar. Johnny is always up front, ready to open the door and help me get them in and out. He's been there since back in the day, an old timer about my age. He takes his mama to the dollar store too.

I'm smooth out of answers for any of it. Just keepin' the faith ^j^

what goes around

..well, ya'll all know that it comes around. That's what the old folks say and I believe 'em because they're wiser than me. They lived through the tough times of WWII and the great depression at a time when real moral values were, though well intended, very troublesome to their offspring who espoused the peace and love philosophy. Like me. As a teenager, I first took a road trip with a couple of guys who are now dead (and gay as hell while they were alive). The Westboro mentality was rampant at that time so of course it was all their fault for being different. Bullshit. This was around the time that we first learned about HIV and HCV and the dangers that come with sharing needles and/or sex with people you may know but surely shouldn't trust with your health. Being homosexual was much less accepted than it is now, and the "church" was responsible for a lot of that intolerance. I mean please....we've still got local congregations that don't allow women to do anything other than bake a cake or keep the nursery because it's up to the men to conduct holy business.

There was a wave of HIV around here that sprang from the seventies and it was hard to watch. One after another, my old friends died senselessly. The one that hit me the hardest was Denise that I went to Alice Thurmond with. She had been married and had a daughter, then headed to the streets and found another one who liked to play with needles. They had another daughter who did just like you would expect from that situation and she died when A was a teenager, at her mother's house with her old friend the hospice nurse by her side. Her ex lingered in a nursing home for years, his own personal hell for infecting that naive girl who just wanted to be happy. Sometime around there, my other friend from Texas pulled a good one and died on her bathroom floor in her own puke from an overdose of pills. We were rebels together, back in the day. At the point where I said to myself "Self...there is no future in this lifestyle" the rest of them partied on and died young. The sad thing is that most of it happened because of the fact that things just were the way they were and it was pretty messed up. Like the world is right now.

The drug du jour in our neck of the woods these days is meth, and there's plenty of labs around the south to cook in. It is a very addictive mixture of battery acid and sudafed and ammonia that blows entire neighborhoods up when things get out of hand. My honest opinion is that the DEA should just shake hands with Mexico, agree not to bust anybody who grows their own and focus on the addictions that thrive at the poverty level. Might cut out a lot of government benefits if you know what I mean. Cocaine is expensive and meth is the poor man's way of gettin' geeked out for days all the while eating free food from the commodities place and paying cash for your cigs while the babies run around in dirty diapers. I know of what I speak. Yet I still believe in the goodness, the random miracle when someone who is absolutely eaten up with demons, turns around and chooses to reclaim their life. I always think of the "pigs in the pond" story from the bible when I ponder on that particular thing. Only Big Ernie could send the evil crashing over the cliff into the sea. Gotta love it.

When BG was in junior high school there was this town drunk named Walter who slept in an old building over by the Forked Deer river. He would sit on court square in the mornings with a cheap bottle of something that he had gotten from the liquor store across the street and pass the day with the other members of the "limp dick club" as my daddy called them. Most of these folks were sort of like mascots to the store owners, and they wouldn't let them in until a decent hour for what they wanted. Sometimes they paid the night before, in cash, for the next day's happy hour. And lived on the streets. One day when I was parked going UPHILL to pick BG up from school I noticed Walter wobbling down amongst all the pre-teens who were totally self absorbed and all about themselves. He fell down in the traffic and they proceeded to laugh at him and kick him when he hit the ground. I think it was at that point that I realized that our society was as effed up as a goose what with all the big corporate promises. If affluence makes you oblivious to human need, there's a problem. Thankfully, I wasn't raised that way.

There, but for the grace of god, go I ^j^

what the hail??

It's been a very LONG time since we got a hailstorm the likes of the one yesterday. We got a light dose of it on the lane but as we traveled into town to eat at mexico, the highways and flower beds were white with the stuff. Looked like a snow plow had come through and pushed it back. Pride, our horse, ran around like he was on crack in the middle of it instead of headin' for the barn. No car damage or anything, but there is a very audible brake problem on the front left that requires immediate attention. As in ScRReeeechhhh! As we all know I am one paycheck away from poverty rolling in the dough, so I think I'll take it to my friend's shop and get it checked out. The stupid thing isn't even paid for yet and it's 11 years old. Note to self: see rainbow.

It's still cloudy and cold and the last of the last load of propane is keeping us warm. It feels oddly familiar to be sitting inside looking through the ancient windows of this old house. The woodwork around the window where my desk is has become worn and weathered from years of weather seeping in as fronts move from west to east over the river and up the hill to poopie's house. My parents and I did our usual Sunday rounds of Perkins, drug store and Kroger then back to the crib for pill counting and allergy shot. They were settling in to watch TV when I left. All is well for now.

I put on makeup yesterday for the first time in months, and realized shortly thereafter why I don't do it often. At my age with my wrinkles and bags, it only accentuates the negative, ya know? I have spent much of my life in the sun, beginning with a four year career as a lifeguard so there's significant sun damage. You couldn't have told me back then that it would do this little number on a young face. Now I pretty much just don't give a rat's ass about how i look as long as i'm clean and brushed with a little bit of Miss Athena's beads hanging from my ears. Low maint, I'm telling you. Well and maybe just a little bit lazy. Learning to chill and forget about the world has done more for my anti-aging strategy than anything. Not that I ever had one, mind you. That ain't how I roll. I had to marvel at the halftime speech given by Pat Summitt to the Lady Vols at halftime yesterday. Two words over and over and over again after asking them if they wanted to go home. "no ma'am" they mumbled. DEFENSE. REBOUND. DEFENSE. REBOUND. They did just that and won the game by playing the second half flawlessly and under pressure. Some people just work better that way. On occasion I have been known to be one of them.

Peace and love ya'll. Keep the faith ^j^

risky business

Most weeks when the church newsletter comes I scan through to see what's up and don't know many of the folks whose names are on the prayer list and whatnot. Yesterday I picked it up and actually put on my glasses to read the front page message. And it was a good one! He cited several large successful companies who have begun to "reward" the people who make the biggest mistakes because it is obviously THEY, the risk takers, who can actually improve the quality of service. We're not talking about the dumbasses that come and go in a few weeks or months, but the ones who have been in an organization long enough to know where the weak links are and offer possible solutions to real problems in service delivery. He went on to talk about how faith is like that sometimes. It seems implausible, in times like these, to look on the sunny side. Unless you know that there's a rainbow out there somewhere and it's a promise that will never be broken. No pain, no gain.

Winter has returned to the lane, but not for long. I'm sincerely glad I didn't make it up the steps with the warm stuff. I should know better after all these years, but I'm kind of on a mission to get the house clean before corporate comes or Mother's Day, whichever is first. I was shooting for Easter, but I've gotta work that weekend. Presently Sammy and Faith are snoozing beside me, and a very MUDDY Oscar is peering out the window to see what there is to chase. Just a squirrel here and there...no birds today.

All is well.

^j^

snow on easter

Here in northwest Tennessee, the weather is quite unpredictable except during summer which is always hot and humid, no exceptions. We all like to say "it's not the heat...it's the humidity" and other quaint little southern phrases like that. If you're not used to it, you'll turn around and go north by late June or else jump into somebody's pool for the duration. Sometime around the middle of July the shadows begin to slant oh so slightly and the ree'a'rees start up. That's when I know for sure that fall is coming eventually. By then the lightning bugs have made themselves at home and the fireworks are over. That's prime time for reaping what you've sowed in a garden happily tilled and planted before the weeds set in. Way back in the spring!

Back to Easter, then. Mama has told me many times about the sunrise services at her Methodist church when HER grandma brought her beloved parakeets in so there could be birds chirping as the sun rose on the sacred day. If I'm not mistaken, there were doves sometimes too. Maybe I'm confusing that with the weddings I've been to. She loves to talk about how I went to church with my pj bottoms on under my fancy dress because I failed to change out. "Just don't bend over!" she told me. Right....with all those easter eggs waiting to be found? We hunted at home in the yard before church, at my grandma's house after church and a couple of times at school or somebody's party. I probably never found too many because I tend to be on the lazy side.

Every Sunday morning before church, we had cinnamon rolls with icing because they were quick and easy and lord only knows it's a chore to get three kids ready for services. That was, of course, back in the day before anybody could wear pants except guys. And little boys wore shorts and cute jackets on the special day. I went to vacation bible school, but I don't ever remember them going with me. We had snacks in the old fellowship hall, down at the basement level of the original part of our church. When BG was that age, I tried to pitch in and help but all the artsy craftsy soccer mom types wouldn't invite me to play so I taught their kids in sunday school instead. That's a whole 'nother story about entitlement and the evils thereof. During that time, there were many wealthy people keeping the whole deal going but they have since died out and most of their kids are scattered across the globe. It was a very active congregation that paid apportionments and good salaries. But you know what? They did very little to help those in the neighborhood, outside of contributions to a mission in another county.

It's usually always nippy on Easter Sunday so you better pick something to layer over that little sleeveless sailor dress mama bought for you. And have a backup plan for those shorts on the boys. I mean...for real. This year it's later in April so maybe we can go without coats for a change. Here's a story for you, and trust me. I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried. Several years ago when mama was still driving and daddy went ahead in his truck so he could practice with the men's choir, she had a major accident pulling out from their road toward town. The car was totaled and she had airbag damage all over her little body. We ended up in the ER ( I was at work ) with her favorite preacher coming in to say "Surprise!". That was his Easter message to the congregation, and she got it even though she never made it in her finery.

Another year, she fell and broke her arm while cooking supper for daddy on Easter night. I may be blonde at times, but that little connection didn't escape attention. There was an ambulance and a long time in the ER with a lot of intensive aftercare. She hasn't been able to walk right since then. My mother always made holidays special no matter what the occasion because she just loved to entertain. She never sat down until everyone else was fed, and spent hours fussing over food and decorations to make it oh-so-special. I go the here and there route with decoration that usually includes whatever color candle holders I have and some tea lights. That's all it takes for some atmosphere.

Lord only knows what's gonna happen THIS year when the stone is rolled away from the tomb. I'm thinking on the positive side of things, which is just my nature ^j^

super powers

I've never really gotten into that kinda thing, but my BF loves the animated ones, especially the shows with an Asian theme. But then he plays golf too which means he's sort of on the zone out side of things, which is fine because I am too. He makes fun of me because I go into this trancelike deal where I'm staring out the window at the scenery whizzing by. I absolutely LOVE riding and hate driving with a passion. We're a good match in a lot of other ways as well. Sunday afternoon we went down towards the Big Muddy to party with his family at a fish fry. I brought BG a plate home and she was, frankly, amazed. She said to me "These people don't play!" We rode around and looked at backwater and just let the wind blow through our hair. The youngest of our group went wading in the road where it went underwater and later did belly flops into a big huge ditch that will soon have snakes in it. Ewwww and Yay!! The house that some of them were born in is right across the road, still occupied. Good times down at Bradley :)

We had another crisis yesterday afternoon with a maternal meltdown in more than one house just because it's so hard to keep on keepin' on. My mother is blind and needs someone to read things to her. My daddy is a dementia patient so that's like, um. Not much help. Any of us would gladly sit down and read to her if she would only ask, but there's that pesky independent trait coming out again *sigh* BG told me that when things get bad enough with me she'll just put a pillow over my face. I trust her to pick the time. We are all frustrated, she with her job search and me and my brother with a constant feeling of "what's next" as we juggle work and a little bit of fun into the mix. My usual cure is a couple of nights sleeping 12 hours straight (unless the dogs see something they want to chase).

When I asked my friends to pray for me and send hugs yesterday I was feeling the sort of pain that will bring you to your knees. The immediate response was like little pieces of angel dust falling on me and I was able to stop wailin' and get on with things. I hate nothing worse than going to work the day after a crying jag. Like Mr. Yates always said "This too shall pass."

Love ya..........mean it ^j^