I'll love you forever

Forever yours, To my wonderful wife (or Husband)
All of these sentiments I read on the inside of so many wedding rings.
I see them that were written years ago, and some that were given in wedding ceremonies only a few months ago.
I buy old, scrap and unwanted gold jewelry from pawnshops and refine and resell the gold to jewelry manufacturies and others.
It's amazing how many wedding and engagement rings are to be found there. All of the people they belonged to I'm sure meant every word of their wedding vows. What happened? Where did all that love and affection go? Probably started to go when the guys stopped holding their stomach in and their wives stopped dying their roots, ( or shaving their legs ), and had bloating and cramping for like 3 years at a time. Lack of affection in inverse relation to the amount of time their husbands sat on the couch watching wrestling, with their feet on the coffee table and both hands stuck down the front of their pants. As an aside, I used to have a brother-in-law who on friday nite would come home with like 15 hours of WWF on video from Blockbusters.
His greatest thrill was his job as bush hog driver cutting the grass on the sides of the road.
Little wonder that his wedding ring is probably a completly different type of jewelry now.
Sis divorced his fat ass and married a Canuck. (but otherwise a pretty respectful type of guy)
If only he'll stop pushing her down and breaking her leg. Just kidding Rick.
I sometimes think we should go to having the betrothed couple take at least 3 years of classes on how to stay married before they could get a license. Oh yeah!, mostly now they don't bother with a ceremony. Just decide, yeah we've had two dates why don't we move in together.

Oh well it gives me something to do and maybe I'll make a dime or two if I keep it up.
Keep on selling those rings and other jewelry folks to the local pawn shop owner for 1/10th of what you paid for it. He'll double his money and I'll make a little cut too. Besides I so love it when in a pawn shop a guy will come in with two rings, the pawn shop guy will say $20 and ring guy will shout $20, but I paid $500.00 for those rings. Pawn shop guy says only worthe $20 to me. Well ok, but you guys sure are making a killing, give me the 20. I just smile and keep on going.

We got some rain on the kudzu. Tomatoe plants nearly as high as my head.

The Great one passed

I started to just leave to title up there, but I have to try to work my way around the news of the passing of Rob Smith of Gut Rumbles.
I'm not sure, but his blog may have been the first one I ever read. Maybe not, but certainly one of the first I remember liking so much that I would return every day, sometimes several times thru-out the day to read. His honesty, his take no prisoner, damn the torpedos approach to life seemed to release some of the demons I struggle with.
Having finally faced some of my past in therapy the last 2 years, I could identify with some of the things he put up with by not putting up with.
The post by someone of his comment when leaving the Helen, Ga blogfest where he said, "I feel like Elvis leaving Las Vegas for the last time" as they carried him to the car and loaded him in, spoke to the yearnings I had been having of leaving all my troubles behind.
His finally coming to realize what he was doing to himself, gave me hope that, This too shall Pass!
His writing became more lucid and sharper after he dried out. He could write, a little. Far better than I ever hope to.
He had much hurt in him. You don't lose a son, no matter the reasons, without feeling like your soul had been wrenched from you.
He loved his family, from his ancesters to his children. His writing of them spoke to the feelings I have for my own family.
I'll miss him. Just as I miss everyone who has passed thru my life and left me for better or worse the man I am.
How ironic that in his last post he spoke of how tired he was of all the shit that had been going on in his life. When he wrote of how he would use a .22 to kill himself, you could feel some of the anguish in him. I believe that a benevolent God took him in his way, a kinder gentler way than perhaps Rob had in mind. We can be grateful for that.
I'll forget him in time, but when those memories are stirred up by what ever errant piece of bad beef, I'll smile and be thankful to have read him, Once upon a time.

Rob, I hope you smell the kudzu blossums every day where you are.

UPDATE: Nice tribute here.............http://www.youbitch.org/mt/archives/000643.php

coulda, wouda, shouda

Fathers Day.
Here I sit at the end of the day. I received calls from all my children. My wife gave me 2 pairs of new jeans (she's been washing the old ones and seeing the disintergration of same), and a lovely card.
I thankful to my wife for my children, and to an affair which yielded a remarkable young woman that like all of my children, I'm proud to call my own.
There are a great many things that I can look back on and regret either not doing, or, doing. But one thing I do not regret is the birth of each and every one.
I regret not having the time to get to know my own father. Sure I knew him for 25 yrs. but I was only at that time grown up enough to start to recognize him for who he was.
I knew my Grandfather for 8 yrs longer, and how I wish I had listened more to his advice.
Both of them loved us in completly different ways, and taught us lessons that will always remain with me.
I did the best that I knew how when they were younger, and I'm still trying to learn how to be a dad.
Wish me luck. It's a hellva ride.

But sometimes you get to see and smell the kudzu in bloom.

Oh yeah

Forgot to mention that it's been dry here. And since the old wive's tale is if you hang a snake on a fence it'll rain, I attempted same but since we have no fence, I did the next best thing. I tied those 2 snakes by their tails into a tree. Blessed rain from above today. If that's what it takes I'll be on the watch for more of the slimy bassards.
Maybe prowl around in the Kudzu.

Serves them right

I'm normally a laid back kind of guy. Expecially if I take the medication like the dr. prescribes. A pill for blood pressure, another to make me pee to go with the lst, a pill for anxiety (why would I be anxious?). Another to decrease my depression over the financial depression I've gotten us into. Another anti-depressant to help the first. And another for the carpel tunnel which I'm waiting on the VA to get around to.
So like I say, pretty laid back.
But the wife called me to the house, and said there was a noise coming from the attic over our bedroom and the dog was going crazy. For me to open up the attic and see what it was and remove it.
Naturally for my love, no sooner said than done.
So after a drink of water to cool off and a leasurly stroll to the bedroom where I couldn't hear anything, I go open up the attic from outside just to placate her, and prove that she's just imagining things.
So I crawl in with the flashlight and shine it in the corner. Damn, two big ol' snakes going at it like, well, like snakes. Which as you can imagine doing it with no hands or anything to grab aholt of is sorta a trick.
Now these were black snakes, nothing to worry about except how to convince them to leave.
Then I got to thinking. Who the hell do they think they are? Having carnal relations over my bedroom. They're gettin more than I've had in a while and seemingly enjoying it wayyyy too much.
That's when I called for the .22 pistol. Had to aim carefully since I didn't want a hole in either the roof or ceiling. And a shot anywhere other than the head wouldn't do more than piss them off, and cause them to bleed on everything.
Finally mission accomplished. Pics of Grandson with culprits follow.
Well maybe they proceed. Don't know how I managed to get two sets of the same pics. Does any body know how to put the pics where I want them?

They should have stayed in the kudzu if they wanted to be left alone.

Better late than Never

That's what they say, whoever they are.

The Baby arrived on Monday last. A Girl, named Callie Cheyene, weight 6 lbs 13 oz. Mother and Baby are fine, but, I fear the father is ruint forever. This big strong former Marine has been twisted around Callie's finger since birth.
He could go on secret missions to kill Al Queda even before 9/11, but he can't fend off one little girl who can't even roll over yet.
Such is the power of love for family.
I'll try to copy and paste a picture of the baby here

False alarm

Well, the youngest's 1st child was due yesterday.
Last night at midnight we got a call. On the way to the hospital.
Opps!
Seems the timing was off. False alarm.

Our first was due around the 10th of September. I had a reporting date in Vietnam of the 1st of same. Got a months reprive so as to be there for the happy moment. Wouldn't you know it. The baby was 2 weeks late. Hope was born on the 25th. My reporting date was Oct 1.

12 months later I got to watch her take her first steps. Glad Roy has his service behind him. He'll get to witness all the things I missed the first time around.

I don't need no stinkin' job

My father died when I was 25, still flying choppers for good ol' benevolant Unk' Sam. He slid in a ditch during an ice storm making the return portion of a beer run to the package store only 2 or 3 miles away. He sat there with the motor running and expired of carbon monoxide poisioning.

While on leave for Christmas he and I were talking and he told me he had something important to discuss, but would do it later. Later never came.

We moved on to Ft. Lewis in Washington State. A month after we got there we got the call.

He had a will and named me executor. I got out of the army and took over operation of his dairy farm which he had been building up since the early '50s.

He had started with about 2 dozen cows of various breeds and kept adding to it in both cows and land, until he had about 300 acres and 120 milking cows, which at that time were numbered in the top ten of all herds in GA of that size.

To me fell the gladsome task of listing all his assets at time of death, and getting appraisals of all, to be used to prepare the estate tax form which had to be filled out and filed with the IRS (peace be upon their blood sucking, beauracratic bloated asses).

Too much for a youthful, innocent, uncorupted, niave to the way of the real world, I hired his old attorney to help with the mountain of paper work.

We finally came up with the final estimate and found to our plesant surprise that we owed over $50,000.00 which at the time I thought was more money than existed in one pile in all the world. A third of his net worth. A freaking third!!!!!! WTF over.

Needless to say that put us on the road to eventually selling off everything that he had worked 25 years for. For I might say a mere pittance of what it would be worth now. I sometimes refer to it in moments of mirth, lighthly as my $6,000,000.00 mistake. Live and learn they say. Read um and weep.

I have held our blessed, benevolant, all caring and concerned fiddle gummint in the highest regard since. I determined that I would not live my life so as to have to bow to their every whim, and would only donate to their continuence as little as possible.

It's caused some hardship. Tax audits, harrassing phone calls, even the taping of what I mistakenly thought was a private phone call. I've been mostly self employeed. Making only enough to keep from going on welfare.

I'm tired of that lifestyle. I determine to live so as to prosper as much as possible.

But my determination to be free of control is undimmed.

That's why I support and urge every one to become with the Fair Tax Bill sponsered by Rep. John Linder of GA. If you haven't heard of this bill, please go to http://www.fairtax.org/

Thanks for taking the time.

OK, Maybe I rushed to judgement

I'll always admit when I've been wrong. There were and are reasons the appraiser couldn't get here. The man has been trying to put things back together. Even to the extent of using his own money or credit to help me out of a bind. You would think that his wife suddenly throwing up blood and being diagnosed with stomach cancer would make me cut him some slack.
You'd be wrong. I drive and hour to stand in his driveway and look him in the eyes and hash everything out.

Damn I hate to get in a fix like I did. When I was in 6th grade I overheard my teacher tell my mom that I had a high IQ and for years I thought I was smart. I can see now that I just had an inflated opinion of myself. Evidenced by the results over the years I may be one of the less intelligence forms of life on this ball.

Probably should go and hide in the Kudzu again, and ponder my navel or such.