I know there are more than two readers out there. I see you.
In an effort to get some comments going, I'd like to pose the following question.
Not trying to be smart ass or anything here. Although that's a given for me generally speaking.
I'd really like some serious, or not so, answers to this.
If as Christians believe, and I count myself amoung those, Jesus sits on the right hand of God,.......
Who sits on the left hand??
Or is this a subject totally taboo on the web?
..........loved to hunt what we called in my youth, "Birds". Birds being defined in particular as 'Quail' or , more precisely 'Bob White Quail'.
In the area around Lawrenceville, Ga in the '50s and '60s, there were plenty of places you could go to hunt. We were related to practically every body in the county in one way or the other. At least the ones that mattered to us. So even though 'grandpa' lived on his own 100+ acre dairy farm, and My dads farm just 3 miles away was 300+ acres and we could find birds most any time on both farms, there were plenty of places to go hunting on land of relatives or friends, of which he had so many.
Pa,(pronounced Paw)loved English Springer Spaniels, for his bird dogs. Trained to search over a field or woodlot until picking up the scent of a bird or Covey of them preferably, then track the scent to where they were roosting or feeding. They are a beautiful sight to behold in the fall among the colors of the turning leaves.
When the dogs would get close to the birds they would go on point. If you've never experienced the joy and excitement of walking up behind a bird dog on point, you've missed out on one of the great joys and excitions of all time.
A good dog, on a crtain for sure covery of quail just ahead of them, will point with his nose at the birds, stretch his body out, sometimes lowering himself in attempt to not spook the birds, raise one front foot, almost as if ready to take one more step, then stretch out his tail in a straight line, almost like an arrow ready to fly from the taut stretched bow.
Hardly daring to breath you walk up behind the dogs, trying to position youself for a shot in the direction you expect them to go, speaking softly to the dogs, as you draw even with them, you urge them forward.....'easy, easy, move up, where are they?.
Slowly the dogs will, one step at the time, ease forward to where their quarry is supposed to be....
...........SUDDENDLY, They explode off the ground, flying desperately in differant directions so as not to run into each other, some high, some low.
Startled by the expected eruption, you try to aim your 16 ga. Fox/Savage double barrel at a bird........Boom.......one down.........identify another.....Boom.......hopefully if you're good another down.
You quickly eject the spent shells and reload, in case a straggler rises..........
......then, call to the dogs, which took off like a flash toward the birds as soon as they broke cover. Here Dot....here Pepper........Dead bird, dead bird. If their good they immediatly start searching for a bird on the ground. You guide them into where you saw the prey fall they locate the dead or wounded birds and gently pick them up in their mouths and return them to you, to lay them in your outstretched palm.....Goood dog........Good girl.....good boy. Not even a tooth mark on them. Good dog.
A few years before Pa's death, my wife and I gave him for Christmas one year a ceramic statue of a female Bob White Quail with a chick at her side. What do you buy a 75 yr old man anyway. He kept it on his gun case. After his death it came back to me. I'm looking at it now.
I miss hunting with my Grandfather. I hope where ever he is........
On a beautiful fall day, he'll arise, eat one of my grandma's hearty breakfasts, and then head out to a day of hunting, calling to his dogs, 'Let's go get some birds.
And there are no briars and kudzu for him to have to struggle thru.
.........in Georgia, Such a rainy nite in Georgia.
Who was th' guy that had a hit with that song????
It sure applies tonight. Coming down like a cow pissin' on a flat rock.
Can you think of any other phrases to describe 'raining lika sonofagun'?
Let me know.
Gonna cool down after this. Be close to 35 in the mornings and 50s in the daytime. At least it's supposed to be sunny tomorrow.
It's raining so hard that I didn't even feed the dog tonight, because I didn't want her to come out in the rain and get wet and be cold and wet all night. Not all of us let them in to sleep in our bed like Livey . Of course we don't have the cold and snow that she has already experienced.
I'm so glad I live in the south. Snow and freezing might be nice to visit if you're so inclined, although for the life of me I can't see the attraction. Maybe if you were stranded in a cabin in the mountians with plenty of victals, firewood and a loving and sexy woman who found you mildly attractive. Hint; Money or a large crank would probably help guys.
Back to the outside dog. She's a 3 yr of Dalmation, with one blue eye and one brown eye. I have never seen a dog that sheds as much hair as she does. I'd almost be willing to wager that if you could gather up all the hair shed by that dog, there would be enough to stuff a king size mattress. Probably wouldn't itch any more than the corn shuck matteress' our forefather would sleep on.
She reminds me of the little boy on the Penuts cartoon script *Pigpen* rub your hand down her back and it looks like a little white cloud.
Well, since I'm not stranded as in 3rd para. above, rainy weather will at least make for good sleeping.
Forget the kudzu for a while.
..............having to enter data into quick books.
It's especially hard when you are new to quick books and have slightly less than optimal use of the left hand.
Slower than the proverable molasses I am
On a bright note the Grandchild #6 came to visit last night. We'll be watching her till saturday. On a brighter note, at least her mother will be staying here for 3 0f those nites after she gets off work.
Now 5 months old, Callie knows how to push away with her arms and legs and how to grab eyeglasses and hair. Thankfully nanny can take care of most of the work with occasional help from me to put her to sleep.
A beautiful fall day outside. The leaves are just past their prime and falling like dominos at a japanese basketball court. And I'm stuck inside. Maybe I'll take a picture to remind me of what I'm missing.
Oh poor baby. Feel sorry for me.
......I'll post this Veterans piece I saved at some point in time for just such a day..
Veteran's Day
Several PEOPLE have up the poem "In Flander's Fields". Analog Kid has a PHOTO PICTORIAL.
Everything that we have in this country, we have because of those who have gone before us to protect us. Nobody in their right mind wants to die. Nobody in the miliary goes out in battle thinking "Gosh, if I catch a bullet then people will love me because I'll be a veteran!"
Soldier's, sailors, airmen and Marines, who would rather be sitting at home having meals with their families, celebrating the holidays with their loved ones, are doing what they do because they understand that this country is worth fighting for. This country is worth protecting. The rights and freedoms that we have are worth fighting for.
Nobody wants to die, but those men and women in uniform understand that it is better to die fighting for what you believe in rather than live in a world where freedom is just a wishful dream. So to all veterans, I say Thank You. I only hope that I can live up to your expectations.
There are more Veteran's Day links at WINDS OF CHANGE and POWERLINE.
However, I think the best discription of all is from MAD OGRE.
Just a word to you cake eating civilians out there… You don’t say Happy Veterans Day. You don’t say Merry Vets Day. But just because you don’t have a meaningless Seasons Greetings for it doesn’t mean you don’t say anything. This isn’t some fat bunny in a sled passing around Jack O’Lanterns because it’s Santa’s birthday… This isn’t about some old fable-become-tradition. Veterans Day is a day for those that are still alive, and for those who are dead… those who died for your freedom to flip soldiers the bird and to call them baby killers and spit on them in the airport. Veterans Day is for the guys that died fighting for your personal independent liberty… It’s for that Veteran that walks with just a slight limp and seems otherwise fine, but he doesn’t have a spleen because an enemy of our country blew it out his back with an AK-47 so you can get 15% Off that new leather fat-ass reclining couch that your going to sit on to mock the President from while watching your 42 inch plasma TV flipping through the channels trying to find some Friends rerun. Veterans Day is for the guy that came home while all his friends didn’t. Veterans day is for the woman who gave up the best years of her young adulthood so she could press her hands over the sucking chest wound of some guy from her own home town 6 thousand miles away from home. Veterans day is for that old woman over there that raised 2 kids alone because when she was young she sent her handsome young husband off to fight for your freedom and came back as a flag folded into a triangle. That’s what Veterans day is for… and what do you say to those people who served? You just say “Thank You”.
...is always a day of mixed emotions for me.
First of all, I always get a greeting and rememberance from my sister Joyce. She's always thankful for my service and for the fact that I came home. She's also the only one to always remember and let me know that she remembers.
Then I always remember the ones who didn't return. Carl, John, Walter, Nick, Lt. Hunter, and so many others I can't remember and over 58,000 that I never knew.
I remember one scout pilot, a 1st Lt. whos name for the life of me I can't remember. For some reason he and I took to one another. Probably because we were 2 shy southern boys, who didn't go in for the drunken hell raisin', drink and be merry for tomorrow we die crowd.
We both were fans of a young British rocker call Rod Stewart, and were looking for some reason and purpose to our lives. Our lives revolved around flying. We loved it, and were, for some reason good at it. If being involved in the Southeast Asia War Games was the cost of getting to fly, so be it. It was.......
......exciting.
Lt. was a fan of a Florida guru/con artist popular at that time. Sort of a Tony Robbins of the '60s and 70s by the name of Glenn Turner. He taught some thing called the power of positive thinking. Lt would try to explain some of the teachings of Turner and the power of the mind. He was a slight built young man. Probably about 130 lbs, 5'9' or so. He was the only guy at that time I knew who could take a beer or coke can, place it on his forehead, holding it with only his palm, and crush it absolutely flat, suddenly, with no apparent effort. Mind you, this was before the switch to aluminium cans. I, of about the same size, couldn't even crush one between my two hands, exerting all my strength. There must have been something to what he had studied.
As things happen, people are killed, wounded or simply rotated home and Lt. was made the Scout Platoon leader. He took to it like a fish to water. A natural leader, and motivator of his pilots and crews.
We were assigned to fly hunter/killer teams in an area we called the tri/border area. Northwest of Kha Sahn, where North and South Vietnam and Laos came together.
One team, 1 scout ship, 2 cobras and 1 huey for cover, ran into a group of NVA on and around a small hill there. The scout ship was shot out of the sky and crashed, no apparent survivors.
All of the teams could hear what was going on. All quit whatever they were doing and prepared to give assistance. In the hope that there might be survivors another scout tried to sneak in with rocket cover from the cobras to check the wreck site. Another burning and crashing bird. Bell jet rangers, known for their inability to survive a crash.
Lt. was now on the scene in his scout ship. Appraised of the danger and the evident superior firepower of the NVA, he was warned and ordered to stay out of the area of the hill, since to attempt to rescue any survivors would surely result in another bird down. The conversations between birds was heated and intense, with Lt. adament that he was going to try to get his guys back, that he was positive he could succeed....
.........he and his crew died.
Their bodies never to be recovered.
Nine Men died that day. And I can't even remember their names.
But in Washington, D.C. their names are inscribed on a black wall in a hole in the ground, for the ages to remember as are so many names of so many men and women, from all the conflicts that this country has felt it necessary to order them to go.........
...............and die.
The tears always come, but never a catharisis, and never a release from the Kudzu.
..........every time. Where you are in the universe and especially on this pitiable ball of mud is justly the result of all the decisions, good and bad, that you make over a lifetime.
And when a group of people get together as a large group you may be sure that the result of their group dynamic will produce something exceedingly stupid.
I didn't vote yesterday. I'll use the excuse that for most of the day I was too doped up to be allowed to go near a voting place because nothin in this world could have stopped me from pontificating on the stupidity of all those there, whether they intended to vote for the donkeys or the elephants.
We always get exactly the government we deserve as long as people believe we are a democracy.
Where are our statesmen. Where are those who really want to have and help make this a better country and hopefully a better world.
Harrison Ford was once asked if he believed in "The Force" ...
...his answer "the force is within you, Force Yourself.
When we as a people realize that we as individuals have charge of ourselves and don't want the government to lump everyone in to a Group.
, which has to have a leader because as a group individuals are the same as anyone else, they want someone to lead, be incharge and take the heat for all the dumb things the group does, then we might start using our heads to create more liberty, and freedom and not less.
Welcome to the New Reality.
Find some Kudzu to hide in.
Some would say that putting ones self at the mercvy of the VA hospital is a grave miscalculation.......
........I did just that yesterday, and awoke with all my appendages still attached.......
.....working, remains to be seen.
actually only carpal tunnel procedure. I've cut myself worse.. Still hurts a bit, however done. Between the meds already taking and this new pain killer I've quite a buzz on today.
I quit drinking back in '75. the wobble came as a bittersweet memory.
Differant party in charge of house in D.C. Same ol' Bullshiate. I REpeat previous advice. keep your guns and ammo in a dry and secure location, a surplus of money, both hard and phoney, squirraled away, and plenty of food & water put aside....
.....and keep your head down below the radar.
Else the Kudzu will get you. REMEMBER.........
......It's not paranoia, if they really are out to fuck you over.
........is good. Right??
In an effort to make things easier for me to type, you will note please that I have changed my ID to kdzu. No longer do I have to reach for the shift key and then remember to put in the .'s and spaces.
I hope this will make things easier for the 2 or 3 people who do read and comment.
I know that it will for me, as long as I can remember that I changed it.
Today was a b.e.a. utiful day hear in the peach state (yes I know that S.C. produces more peaches than we do). 80 degrees in Toccoa as we passed the bank. How in the world did banks decide to put the time and temp on their signs. You'd think that we know if its cold or hot, and if we're riding past in our autos or trucks we're probably already aware that we're late.
I have also today switched to Blogger Beta. It let me post my mountain post and pictures, but now they tell me that I can't comment on a blogger site. If you wonder where I am, I'm sitting here pulling my hair out trying to figure how to post to a couple of favorites. Soon they tell me. I don't want soon, I want now.
Instant gratification. Isn't that the american way. Especially if I can't afford it now. Let's just use that marvelous thing called credit, shall we.
Better go, I feel the kudzu crawling.
.....To see what I can find. The first American Gold Rush happened here some number of years ago. We even had our own mint. If you happen to own a genuine Dahlonaga Gold piece then you problbly have something valuable.
Me I prefer not to get all wet and dirty playing in the creeks looking for the yellow stuff. I'll let others do that for me. They pay big bucks for jewelry for themselves and loved ones, and then sell it for .10 cents on the dollar.
Folks, to me the other metals in the piece and the workmanship mean squat.
But, still people believe that whatever they paid for something is what it's worth, even a new car.
Marooons
UPDATE; Back from the mountains. Nice trip shared with the better half. She wanted to get out of the house and see the fall leaf colors. We also bought some sorghum syrup and a bag of mtn. grown apples.
I did find one treasure. If anybody is interested in a very nice 3/4 ct round diamond, which may grade as good as VS1 or better, at a very reasonable price, let me know.
Update; Pictures of contented cow and a few shiney rocks.
Go on. Go to........ www.ejectejecteject.com
And read all of it. See if any of your opinions take a shift.
.....There will be a TEST
I think that every one who has read much here knows that I am 110% behind our troops either stationed in a combat zone or where ever they may be serving.
Perhaps it is time for us to hear more from the people who have actually been deployed on the ground and have seen it up close and personal.
In Vietnam we called those who sat back in the rear and supposedly ran the war REMFs. That's Rear Eschelon Mother F****rs. The military is different now that it's smaller. Many of those running the troops are either with them or communicate in real time with them so they have a better idea of what's going on. My suggestion is to get the word out to as many people as possible so They can actually see the good (of which there is quite a bit) as well as the bad (of which there is also plenty).
I have bookmarked www.michaelyon-online.com . Look him up. This is a letter from a colonel who is soon leaving Iraq and some of his thoughts. I think they're worth considering.
http://www.michaelyon-online.com/wp/one-colonels-final-thoughts.htm
What do you think?
I'd love to know how to put my pictures mixed in or down below the text of the blog. Maybe I'll figure it out at a later date. I tend to jump in and do the easy stuff and if it works well enough, then OK by me.
The Pic above is of two maple leafs I bought to resale the other day. One is .999 fine and the other is .9999 fine. Any thing that is more pure than Ivory soap is pure enought for me.
It's nice to pick up pretties like this. Mostly what I buy is scrap jewelry that has been broken or people just don't want any more. Amazing thing guys, sometimes when the lady is angry or scorned, they just want to get rid of whatever reminds them of you. Even if they get very little for it. Maybe shows what they think of you at the time.
I pick up a few nice diamonds that way sometimes.
Just had 5 sets of earings made up from about 1/4 cttw to almost a carat tw.
I'll try to sell them, but people tend to shun an individual, even with GIA training, and go the the established stores where because of overhead they have to triple the price just to come out a little ahead.
There is a fever like disorder that attracts you, once you start dealing with it.
Something about taking an adulterated item and render it to .999 pure gives a satisfying sense of accomplishment. And as Robert Service says so well, sometimes it's in the finding, more than the having.
I wanted the gold, and I sought it,
I scrabbled and mucked like a slave.
Was it famine or scurvy -- I fought it;
I hurled my youth into a grave.
I wanted the gold, and I got it --
Came out with a fortune last fall, --
Yet somehow life's not what I thought it,
And somehow the gold isn't all.
Robert W. Service, The Spell of the Yukon
"There's gold, and it's haunting and haunting; it's luring me on as of old. But it's not the gold that I'm wanting, so much as just finding the gold."-Robert Service, 18-th century miner/poet.
Some times life is like that. A constant searching for something, we know not what.
We shift from partner to partner,
home to home,
job to job,
Church to church.
Always looking for that next big deal,
That next opportunity that's going to make you rich, and you never stop to think that, if you just save a little as you go along, after a while you can stop searching.
But as the poet says, sometimes it more about the looking than finding.
Read the whole poem here if you wish.
http://tobi_wan_2.tripod.com/SpellOfYukon.html
For Thirty years I been looking just over the next horizon, and now the horizon is not as far as it once was, and I'm afraid to look over it because I fear what might, or might not, be there.
But at least for a little while I can look at the lady above, and see her as she once was and as she later became. And get a sense of stability from her.
And still, I know, that there is kudzu around her soul, too.
Thanks to http://straightwhiteguy.com/ for leading me to Services' poems. I once heard that there is a scottish saying that 'money is flat and meant to be stacked up'. Maybe Eric can ask his bride if that's true.
Sometimes.......
A girl just wants to be held in the arms of an older more experienced man.
Some of you.......OK 1 of you (thanks Jean) wanted to see an updated picture of the grand daughter.
What can I say. I just seem to have the knack of putting pretty girls to sleep.
Probably my bubbling personality.
Or my ability to find pure gold.
Pictures of that lady tomorrow.
This will make you think
Your alarm goes off, you hit the snooze and
sleep for another 10 minutes.
He stays up for days on end.
_________________________
You take a warm shower to help you wake up.
He goes days or weeks without running
water.
__________________________
You complain of a "headache", and call in
sick.
He gets shot at as others are hit, and keeps
moving forward.
__________________________
You put on your anti war/don't support the
troops shirt, and go meet up with your friends.
He still fights for your right to wear that shirt.
__________________________
You make sure you're cell phone is in your
pocket.
He clutches the cross hanging on his chain
next to his dog tags.
__________________________
You talk trash about your "buddies" that
aren't with you.
He knows he may not see some of his buddies
again.
__________________________
you walk down the beach, staring at all the
pretty girls.
He walks the streets, searching for
insurgents and terrorists.
__________________________
You complain about how hot it is.
He wears his heavy gear, not daring to take
off his helmet to wipe his brow.
__________________________
You go out to lunch, and complain because
the restaurant got your order wrong.
He doesn't get to eat today.
__________________________
Your maid makes your bed and washes your
clothes.
He wears the same things for weeks, but
makes sure his weapons are clean.
__________________________
You go to the mall and get your hair redone.
He doesn't have time to brush his teeth
today.
__________________________
You're angry because your class ran 5
minutes over.
He's told he will be held over an extra 2
months.
__________________________
You call your girlfriend and set a date for
tonight.
He waits for the mail to see if there is a
letter from home.
__________________________
You hug and kiss your girlfriend, like you
do everyday.
He holds his letter close and smells his
love's perfume.
__________________________
You roll your eyes as a baby cries.
He gets a letter with pictures of his new
child, and wonders if they'll ever meet
__________________________
you criticize your government, and say that
war never solves anything.
He sees the innocent tortured and killed by
their own people and remembers why he is fighting.
__________________________
You hear the jokes about the war, and make
fun of men like him.
He hears the gunfire, bombs and screams of
the wounded.
__________________________
You see only what the media wants you to
see.
He sees the broken bodies lying around him.
__________________________
You are asked to go to the store by your
parents. You don't.
He does exactly what he is told.
__________________________
You stay at home and watch TV.
He takes whatever time he is given to call,
write home, sleep, and eat.
__________________________
You crawl into your soft bed, with down
pillows, and get comfortable.
He crawls under a tank for shade and a 5
minute nap, only to be woken by gunfire.
__________________________
You sit there and judge him, saying the
world is probably a worse place
because of men like him.
If only there were more men like him!
If you support your troops, re-send this to
everyone you know,
If it gets to another veteran who hasn't
received it yet, it will bring back memories.
Only two defining forces have ever offered
to die for you, Jesus Christ and the American G I.
One died for your soul, the other for your
freedom
Bruce Cherokee Perry
usabiker1@earthlink.net
Shamelessly stolen from and email my sister sent me.
I will be emailing Mr. Perry to make sure it's ok.
As I came out of the Franklin County, Georgia courthouse today my eyes were drawn to the marble obolisk outside which pays homage to those who died for their country in all the wars since WWII. There was a wreath of red and white roses placed before it.
I thought of the approximately 70 - 80 soldiers of all ranks killed in my unit in the short 1 year in Vietnam, and the thought came to me that I can only name a handful of them. Those I was close to or spent some time with. And I remembered seeing their names engraved for the ages on the Vietnam memorial in Washington, D.C.
and I felt ashamed that I could name so few.
But I'll never forget that I came home to my family and they didn't.
I was raised to believe that a man doesn't cry. I didn't shed public tears at my fathers casket. But, to see those names on that wall and to think of their sacrifice is more than the kudzu can hide.
Behind a Fathers Mask
To a small infant child, behind the mask of a father
is a person who is never wrong
He seems to know answers to all of her questions and
he is powerful and strong.
With a kiss to a boo-boo or a pat on the back, he
takes pains of the body away.
He makes pains of the heart disappear with a hug
and the words "I'm here to stay".
As the child grows older and independent, she also
grows away from the man she calls dad.
A relationship with him is just something she
holds in her heart that she once had.
Now a rebellious teenager who claims to know all
Dad never seems to be right.
And the long talks they once had now take the
form of a never ending fight.
So she leaves the masked mans arms to see the
world on her own
And learns too quickly life could have been easy
had she only known.
After fighting the battles with him and saying
things that weren't meant
Thru all of the madness and tears only his
love was being sent.
And now a full grown woman, independent and
free
It is understood he was trying to be what she needed
him to be.
So she no longer tries to see behind her
fathers mask
Now answers come without effort about a good and
bad past
And she sees him thru different eyes than a young
infant child and his identity comes thru
He is not just my father, nor is he my enemy,
he is my dearest friend - forever true.
Written by; My oldest Child
on 6 -17 - 90
I have 4 children and 6 grandchildren, and they are all, and each, my favorites. Completley different and each unique. I am in awe that they are on loan to me.
I thought for a moment the kudzu had cleared from my vision.
..read all of my favorite blogs tonight.
We finally got all of the grand children to sleep.
I am amazed at how many fine writers there are out there. They all mostly, put yours truly to shame.
This is just a sort of stream of consciousness type of blog for me. I read & see some many things and topics to write about but, if someone else blogs better about it than me, why should I try to exceed their lofty heights.
I trying a CPAC machine tonight in an effort to reduce my snoring. We'll see if I feel less tired in the morning.
Wish we had broadband of some kind. I have to download a couple of things tonight thast will prob take all night.
Off........to breath.......perchance to dream.
Brush your teeth after each meal.. Floss after every meal. Use this toothpaste or the other to never have a cavity. See your Dentist twice a year.........
...Oh! By the way. Be sure to have your wisdom teeth extracted as soon as they come in.
Every body hears these messages from the time their young. Toothbrushes are one of the most highly advertised items in the world.
They put flouride in the water to strengthen teeth.
Does any of it do any good if you don't heed their advice (whoever THEY are)?
I've been fairly lucky with my teeth over the decades. A few cavities. One or two crowns from trying to open bottles or crack nuts with my teeth. I brushed, rarely flossed. And never had my wisdom teeth all pulled. One came thru the gums, and three are impacted, but never gave me any real problems....
.....until now.
Whoa boy can those puppies hurt. Inflame the gum. Bleeding when brushed. Very sensitive.
May have to bite the bullet and find a cheap jawbreaker to pull it out.
Their called wisdom teeth, because if your smart you'll have them yanked out when your young.
Need to chew some kudzu to see if it has any medicinal properties.
having read all my favorite blogs, commenting on a few. Mostly lurking.
The motivation to write seems to be weak, but a guy once told me that if you didn't feel like praying, thats the time to get on your knees.
Perhaps the same with blogging.
We have the newest grandchild for the next two days. Boy is that a shock to our old selves. Thankfully tonight I had taken my medication before she got the colic and started screaming, so I was reasonably calm about it. But, Lord that child has a set of lungs on her. The world champion hog caller of 2020 is going to have a run for the money if she enters.
Finally she has drifted off to dreamland where hopefully she'll have pleasant dreams, while I stand watch with garlic, a silver cross and Browning Hi-power to ward off any boogymen.
Need to put together a flyer for our business to take to a luncheon tomorrow.
550 realtors, hopefully a few of them will be babes so as to make the rubbery chicken go down a little easier.
For a shy retiring type such as my self it'll be a trial, but somebody has to do it and there is no one better than me for buttering up the ladies.
Off
to work
to help hold the kudzu down to managable levels.
LL just helped me recover my temporarily lost archives. Don't you just love it when they can immediatly see and know the answer to the problem.
This brings me thought that have been running thru my head for a while. (They run because there are no chairs there, so they can't relax.)
Years ago, I had a vision.
In the middle of the night, a person stood at the end of my bed and told me to believe and be baptised.
I did, but always felt that there was some reason that wasn't revealed to me then.
Years later a man told me, in response to my question of, 'what did that person in the vision want of me? "He wants you to attend church." I have for the past 12 years.
But I still feel as if there is more that I should be doing. Some way to make a big difference in a lot of peoples lives. But I have not a clue.
Is this a common thing. Are we desirious of being much more than we currently are?
Are People willing to expend the effort that it would take? Am I???
And in what direction should that effort be directed?
11:45 pm and the kudzu seeks to draw me down.
To Bed
