"...miner for heart of gold"*

And, I’m growing old.

Not sure how much more I can take.

It’s been an altogether trying few days.

There are ups and there are downs, there is ins and there’s outs…oh wait, another song. delete.

  1. Very cold. Actually CAF.

  2. I went in a restaurant last week. They had outdoor seating. I thought, these people are insane. But folks were seated out there. I stepped out there. It was toasty. They had these patio heaters. (Note to self: you need that! Yes you do.)
    I determined in my brain that I would have one. My deck needs one. My cold ass needs one.
    I told Mr.Wrekker next time you are in Texarkana go over to Sams club and get me one. He said “No!” I said “whatchoo say?” tersely.
    I told him I’ll pay. He got alright. And said, ok then.
    It was procured. They hooked it up to a butane bottle.
    There are so many reasons this thing is so wrong. I’m afraid to start.
    A. Hot
    B. Noisy
    C. Attracts children and pets for miles around. Which meant “someone” had to make hot cocoa. Which cause spills and jostling much too close to a giant metal structure with super heated actual fiery places.
    D. The smell is like a gas grill, but, alas no food coming out. Sad.
    E. It was on sale,
    Missed it by a day.
    Where do I get these brilliant ideas?

  3. Ok. My diabetic Doctor calls the Dialysis center to tell me go in for an MMR booster. (Dammit, Texas. Vaccinate your biological weapons you call kids)Not a bad shot, on the whole. Yep, you guessed it. I have a reaction. I bitched so much, Ivy checks my temperature. Low grade. But I felt like crap on a cracker. Sore throat. Achey. Misery.
    The doctor checked me Friday. Yep. Not only is it a reaction. It’s a rare one. I have a lumpy jaw. Seems the measles part is more usual.
    Not much can be done. Treat the symptoms. Have a nice weekend. Bye!
    I’m apparently non-contagious. Too late for my family. Good damn thing they’re all vaccinated. Duh.
    It doesn’t seem to be buggin’ my BG.

  4. My spring bulbs have poked their heads up. I actually have some early daffodils that have flowered. Deer are eating them. Between squirrels stealing the bulbs. Deer eating the leaves and kids plucking them outta the ground my future of a lifetime of flowers on the bulb plan may actually fail before I kick the bucket. Good thing I like my hands in dirt or I might be bitter.

  5. Armand the Armadillo has disappeared, he may be hibernating or semi-hibernating. I guess they do that.
    He hasn’t been around. Son-of-a-wrek thought he saw him, but it was a skunk. How random. You cannot mistake them for each other. It seems, to me.

  6. Speaking of my Son, he lost a knife. Somewhere. It has a flip-out blade that is hair triggered. So, naturally we were concerned a baby or kid would find it.
    We looked everywhere. He searched his truck, barn. Their house. No knife.
    I was sweating it, til I noticed the butcher knife on the counter and thought about the ice pick in the ice maker. And realized the many, many sharp pointy things within their reach. I went back to bed. As far as I know the knife is still missing. No deaths reported.

So I can worry about a kid freezing to death, getting burned to death, sprayed by a skunk, getting the mumps or no spring flowers in their futures.

*(yeah, we all know its a Neil Young song)

They always told you that you should not run with the scissors, pass them with your hands over the blades just so, be extra cautious and such.

But those old scissors could barely cut paper. At the same time, in the back of every classroom was that huge green tray with the attached swing blade. In case some hogs needed butchering.

No one ever heard themselves on the blade. And it isn’t possible to hurt yourself with school scissors unless poking around the sensey organs. You don’t really need to worry about the scissors. You’ll plant more bulbs and your Son will do okay.

As a child, I once sat on a pair of scissors that my sister had left on a chair, and cut myself, because I was wearing pajama pants.

Those weren’t school scissors.

True.

Did I ever tell you about the time Neil Young came and lived out on my Mom’s working ranch for a month while his California place was being renovated?

Crazy Horse Indeed!

I am concerned for Armand.

Yep. And you and Willie and that beer.

Oh, yeah…wasn’t your picture in the liner notes of a Drive-by Trucker album?