BORED

I lead such a piss poor boring life – nothing blog worthy going on unless you wanta hear about work or Shitty Kitty using my tired old body for a trampoline while I was trying to sleep today. Naw....... I didn’t think you would be interested in that.

I’ve actually got 3 whole days off this weekend (YEAH!) but don’t have anything interesting planned. I’m thinking about going bowling; I haven’t been in almost 5 years and the weather’s supposed to be cold and messy (rain, sleet, high winds and low temps in the teens) so some sorta indoor activity seems to be called for. Now if I can find someone interested in going with me; Donna has bad knees and Karen has a bad wrist (plus she claims that her allergies kick up every time she steps foot outside) and most everyone else is either working or has family stuff going on. I could go alone but it’s so much more entertaining when you’re competing against someone else. People tend to look at ya funny when you trash talk yourself.

Seems like all my buddies’ bodies are falling apart, various ailments and illnesses keeping them from doing the fun things that we used to take for granted. And the bad thing is they’re all younger than me! Damn that’s a scary thought. I guess it’s only a matter of time before I start to deteriorate too; age and gravity are already doing a number on my weight and shape so I guess my ability to do anything that I want will be next. Getting old sucks big time but it sure beats the alternative.

I’ll report back if and when something happens that merits a word or three. Until then y’all keep safe and warm.

JIGGLE QUEENS

I thought the my sisters and I held the record for bouncing bosoms but these ladies have us beat! Behold the QUEENS OF JIGGLE. Turn your speakers up and watch the tops of these boobilicious corsets. (Stole this from Straight White Guy) These women are having a ball.





I thought the one on the right was gonna fly right out of her stays!

BIRTHDAY SNOW

Yesterday was my sister Donna’s 50th birthday (she's next to me, I'm the oldest of we 5 sisters) the big FIVE OH that women dread so much, but she couldn’t go out and celebrate because of family obligations; so today Karen, Donna and I became “ladies who lunch” and went to Ryans/Fire Mountain (the local all you can eat buffet) where you can pig out on wonderful food and a dessert bar to die for. Hey, it’s a party; I can eat cake and ice cream and not feel guilty, right?

When I turned 50 I came home from work to find that Donna and her kids had decorated the entire yard with black balloons and crepe paper and a huge sign (painted in glitter paint no less) proclaiming that I was over the hill and my age for all the word to see; but since I was working on her birthday I couldn't return the favor. Of course posting her age on the web is the next best thing. So there ya go Donna, I got you back on the age advertising thing.

We wound up sitting next to an older couple and a young woman who were either Amish or Mennonites, I can’t tell the difference. They were dressed the part with the women in baggy dresses and the man in his black suit, long gray hair and beard. The young woman looked pregnant, but it could have been the sack of a dress that she had on. Karen said a cuss word and then instantly felt bad, blushing blood red and slapping her hand over her mouth while Donna kept lusting after those little white bonnets the women wore. Not sun bonnets like my grandmother wore to work in her garden but close fitting gauzy cap deals that tied underneath the chin.

Then Karen noticed some big guy who she claimed kept watching her eat, she said that he wanted her food but after he made three trips back to the buffet I tried to convince her that he thought the way she was eating was erotic and wanted to stuff something of his own in her mouth. Of course Donna jumped right on that, telling her how what he offered would be all hot and creamy, but Karen refused to play along.

Yeah, we’re goofy but hey, we had a good time. Of course people keep looking at us as we giggled and laughed and had a blast but the hell with them. What’s wrong with 3 women over the age of 50 sounding in high spirits? Besides, I’ve always heard that when you get older you can do anything that you want; it’s one of the few perks of aging.

Afterward, we hit the Dollar Tree where everything is $1 and you can load up a shopping cart for $20. While we were inside everyone started running to the windows and yelling “It’s Snowing!” The white fluffy stuff is rare here in Alabama, my 8 year old grandson can only remember 1 other time that it snowed, so it’s a big deal.

When we checked out and walked to the car it was snowing heavily, big fat flakes falling straight down. By the time I got to the car the shoulders of my coat were frosted white and I was wishing glasses came with windshield wipers. The drive home was almost a white out, you couldn’t see but a few car lengths in front of you, but the ground was warm and it melted as soon as it hit. It’s stopped now and they’re predicting sleet and rain tonight so I guess that today was our one snow for the winter. I guess you could say that Donna got snow for her birthday.

While I’m on the subject of birthdays, today’s Bitchitude’s, go tell her and Donna both ‘HAPPY BIRTHDAY” if you want.

TEE HEE GIGGLE {{{SNORT}}}

SATURDAY SUNSHINE

After lots of thunder and lighting plus some wind damage severe thunderstorms Thursday left us wonderful weather in its wake. Clean air, sunny skies and moderate temps in the 50s made me want to play hooky today so bad that I could taste it, but duty calls so off to the slave shop I went.

The drive to work this afternoon was picturesque; too bad I had to make a straight line to the mill instead of meandering up and down the back roads. I wish I had thought to bring my camera and had the time to snap some of the sights on the way. You know which ones; those special moments that capture your eye and intrigue your mind. All too often they pass in a blink and get forgotten in the press of everyday life.

I spent several minutes trailing a vintage horse and buggy driven by an older couple, their white hair gleaming in the sunshine as they leaned their heads together. I swear their tilted bodies and touching foreheads formed a perfect heart-shape just like something on the front of a Hallmark card. You could see the happy pair’s smiles flashing from a mile away as their scarves waved gaily in the breeze. Young love be damned, it looked like these oldsters were doing just fine in their golden years. We should all be so lucky.

A bit farther down the road a youngster on a shiny new ATV (obviously gotten for Christmas) was zigzagging up and down the ditch banks; cutting donuts and slinging dirt all over a much used and abused older trail bike sitting on the side of the road with a “FOR SALE’ sigh on the handle bars. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for the poor trail bike. Old, worn out, unloved and unwanted, discarded and replaced as soon as a newer younger shinier model becomes available. I think there are a lot of us who know the feeling, even if we won’t admit it to anyone but ourselves.

I don’t own a full length mirror. I live and work in jeans and casual shirts in blue-collar industry, so dressing up is a rare occasion. So the other night when I went to get slicked up for a co-worker’s retirement party it came as something of a shock when all my dressier clothes were tighter than I remembered. OK ........ I’m 52 and some of this stuff has been in the closet for years, I can deal with the thicker waist, broader hips and sagging girls. My face is aging well (I guess) and makeup does wonders when I take the time to apply it. After all, age hits us all differently, I have a friend whose body is the same size 4 as when she was young but her face shows her years of chronic sun worship. We all have our flaws; so I take a deep breath, throw on a respectable outfit whose buttons don’t pop over my bulging bosom, paint my face, twirl around and model for my son and the 2 cats who give their approval, and off I go.

It wasn’t so long ago that I had to be careful of appearance and body language at dinners and meetings; my co-workers’ wives considered me a threat just because I was decent looking and had a boobilicious rack. But the other night as I was introduced to the other ladies their eyes glanced at me, slid from my artfully streaked gray hair and down my ample curves. And then dismissed me. I mean they totally looked away and never acknowledged my existence again. Not in words, looks, acts, nothing. They saw an older overly-plump over-the-hill female who wasn’t worth the time of day because she could never interest their men. It seems that if I’m not a threat I’m not worth the time of day. WTF!

These younger (I’m talking 30-something) women spent the night huddled next to their guys shooting glares at each other while I and the few other “matrons” laughed and giggled and wondered what was wrong with the pseudo fem-fatales at the other tables. And it was unanimous; all we “middle-aged ladies” agreed that they didn’t consider us worth anything because we weren’t a threat.

When did women become each other’s worse enemies? And what the hell makes them think that anyone else would want the testosterone-sodden pot-bellied male who shares their bed? What happened to female comradely? Hell, I always have more fun with my girlfriends than with a date; I don’t have to impress the girls; I can eat with my fingers, get slightly tipsy on too much wine, do the funky chichken if I want, and I don’t have to hold my breath so my gut doesn’t pooch out as much when I’m with my buddies.

I just don’t get it. We dismiss each other based on age, weight, shape and if we think someone looks better than us. I thought it was bad enough when men did it to us, but now we’re doing it to ourselves. Girls, this shit has GOT TO STOP!

SAM JAM

Why does it always seem like I have to work when the good stuff happens?

It's time for the "Sam Jam" honoring Sam Phillips, the father of Sun Records (Sun Records was located in Memphis, TN, but Sam was always proud of his hometown of Florence, AL) . For those of you who don't know, Sam Phillips founded Sun Records, which gave birth to the music of rock 'n' roll pioneers such as Elvis Presley, Jerry Lee Lewis, Roy Orbison, Carl Perkins, Johnny Cash, Charlie Rich and blues artists B.B. King and Howlin' Wolf.

And of course, the one band that I really really want to see, The Paul Thorn Band, is preforming and I've gotta work, DAD DANG IT! Paul is a great musician but he's famous as a song writer. Yep, you've heard lots of his music just being preformed by other folks. Paul Thorn was a prizefighter and skydiver before becoming a rootsy singer/songwriter. As a boxer, Thorn once fought against Roberto Duran and as a musician, he has toured and collaborated with Sting, Paul Carrack, Joe Diffie, Tanya Tucker, Ronnie Milsap, and Carole King. He released his debut album, Hammer & Nail, in 1997 and followed it with Ain't Love Strange three years later.

I sent several of y'all homemade CDs of Paul Thorn around Christmas so you know who I'm talking about. Don't you just love his music, his way with lyrics, the way he says what you always think but never come right out and say, the way he makes you bust a gut laughing! I bet a live concert would be the highlight of the year, if I could only goooooooooooo........................... Having to work for a living sucks. All y'all who never heard of Paul Thorn, go and listen to some of this stuff. The rest of y'all, put in one of his CDs and listen along with me. cause I'm gonna rock the powerhouse tonight. Even if I can't see him live, I'm gonna "Burn Down The Trailer Park"

Paul Thorn Live - Burn Down the Trailer Park

Add to My Profile More Videos

RULES FOR 2008

RULE #1. NEVER WEAR A 'BOGGIN, WATCH CAP OR KNIT HAT WHILE WEARING MULTIPLE EARRINGS --- DAMN, THAT SHIT HURTS!!!!!

NEW YEAR'S EVE POST

Wahoo! I actually got 24 hours off Sunday (worked off midnights at 6 AM and came back this morning at 6AM. Working is a bitch but it pays the bills). I went home, fell into bed with a puss cuddled on each side, took a nap until noon and then went to town with my buddy Carol.

Carol was on a mission, in search of the perfect curtains. We hit Target, Wal-Mart, TJ Maxx and K Mart. The perfect curtain had to be navy blue, room darkening, and kid proof; not too much to ask but it seems that solid color curtains aren’t in fashion. She finally bought some at Wal-Mart but they weren’t exactly what she wanted.

Along the way I wound up buying a new plaid trench coat for 50% off and several pieces of amber jewelry (I’ve got a thing for amber). I also got lucky and found some digital Christmas ornaments (you download pictures onto the permanent memory and they act like a digital picture frame hanging on your tree) for 75% off at Target. That’s a great deal, marked down to $7 from $29.99; I got one and Carol got the only other two left. The ornaments were hidden behind some other stuff; otherwise they would have been gone because all the after-Christmas stuff was really picked over.

While standing in the checkout line I always pass the wait by reading the magazine headlines. I pointed out one on Cosmo to Carol that said in big bold letters “DIRTY SEXY SEX” and remarked to her that although it’s been a while, the last I remembered, if sex isn’t sexy then you’re doing it wrong! After all our ramblings I got home around 8 PM, passed out on the couch until 10:30 and then went to bed and slept until the alarm went off this morning.

The weather man is predicting our first snow flurries in the morning, Alabama isn’t known for the white stuff so they're making a big deal out of it (any time the forecast is for snow or ice everyone here makes a run on the grocery store and buys out all the bread and milk, I have no idea why). Tomorrow night it’s supposed to get down to 18 degrees so I guess I’ll have to break out the long johns and heavy socks. I just hope the road doesn’t ice over because I drive up and down mountains on narrow 2 lane roads and we don’t get weather days at the paper mill. Gotta remember to get some more cedar shaving for the dogs house on the way home this afternoon, too. Nothing worse than frost-bitten pooches.

I hope all of you have a Happy New Year; I’ll be snug in bed long before midnight so if you celebrate, drink one for me.

HOLIDAY MOOD

Last night I got to watch my 8 year old grandson play basketball for the first time, this is his first year to play and I’m usually at work when he has a game. I’m proud to say he got two baskets, two rebounds and one stolen ball; not too shabby for someone who never played before (Yeah, Nana is bragging). Wish I had thought to bring a camera so I could bore y’all with grandmotherly type photos, maybe next time my mind won’t be blank and I’ll do better. He’s a head taller than all the other kids but so skinny that he has trouble keeping his pants up. Yep, I have a tow headed beanpole with big feet for a grandson, but dang he’s a pretty thang.

I’m finally getting into a holiday mood (bout time don’t ya think); there’s a turkey in the oven (who knew that it takes weeks to thaw one of those suckers out, after 5 days in the fridge it's innards were still frozen solid and I had to shove my hand up the turkey's butt and dig 'em out) and the car trunk is loaded with presents for our family get-to-gather tomorrow. I’ve been watching sappy holiday movies on Lifetime TV and humming Christmas carols all day. Lady Scrooge has left the building and Grandma Christmas has made her belated appearance.

I’ve had the hardest time putting myself in a holiday frame of mind: our parents’ wedding anniversary was Christmas day, Mom died just before the Christmas that would have been their 50th, and Dad passed 10 months later. Although we still have our family shindig at the home place, it’s just not the same. The house is packed with relatives; inlaws and outlaws and dozens of kids running around yelling and screaming, but there’s still an empty space that you can feel in your heart. It’s been several years since Mom and Dad left us, but I still expect to see them both when I walk in the door. They say that time heals all, but it’s going to be a long long time before the home place feels like Lana’s house and not my parents’.

Gotta go and check on the bird, nothing worse than a dried up old turkey, so Happy Holidays to everyone and I’ll be by to check on y’all soon.

SPECIAL REQUEST-WHITE TRASH CHRISTMAS

I found this video several years ago and when I posted the link it was a big hit. Everyone has asked me to to post the link again this year, so here it is. The video fairly long but sooo worth the wait! If you've got dial-up you might not be able to hear it, sorry.

You'll be singing the "White Trash Christmas" song yourself after watching this. And everytime you watch it you'll see some little detail that you missed the first time {watch for the hound that humps everything}. Please give it time to load and I promise you'll laugh yourself silly.

So without farther ado, I give you:

WHITE TRASH CHRISTMAS

ON THE FLOOR

Now I know I’m getting old.


After spending several hours in the floor surrounded by wrapping paper and bows, I found that I couldn’t just get up like I used to. Damned if I didn’t have to get on my hands and knees before I could struggle upright and on my feet! I go to the gym, I do setups and all that other crap, why the hell did my tired old bones lockup after hunkering down on the carpet? I was OK once I was standing, but gravity had me glued to the floor. It was like there was a big magnet sucking my fat ass downward every time I tried to stand up.

The cats seemed to get a kick out of it; they circled me meowing either encouragement or insults, I couldn’t tell which. I shoulda chunked them both up against the wall before I got up off the floor, just to teach them not to laugh at the person responsible for filling the food dish and emptying the litter box. Thank God no one else was around to witness my decent into feebleness or else I never would have heard the end of it (I know y’all won’t tell anyone!).

Guess I need to take up yoga or something to help on my flexibility. There aren’t any classes here in the boonies but I can get a CD and entertain the pussies some more. Thank goodness there aren’t anymore presents to wrap; I’m not sure I can go through anymore humiliation this week.

GODS IN ALABAMA

How could I pass up a book with the first line: "THERE ARE GODS in Alabama: Jack Daniel's, high school quarterbacks, trucks, big tits, and also Jesus". All true, although I think that "big tits" should count as Twin Goddesses.

When running through WalMart on the way to work, the title caught my eye (hello - I live in Alabama!) and then the first page grabbed me. The story might be crap (haven't read it yet) but I have high hopes. This isn't my usual type of reading material, so we'll just have to wait and see.

Now I gotta go and pretend to know what I'm doing here at the slave factory. A boiler has crashed, everybody and his brother are on site (ON A SUNDAY) and the place is a madhouse. Hopefully all the VIPs will go home soon so we can get things squared away and have a peaceful night.

Last week it was in the high 70's here; all the windows at home were open and you saw people out wearing shorts and tank tops. Tonight it's in the low 20s with a wicked wind that cuts right to the bone, no matter how warmly you're dressed. If there are "Gods In Alabama", the Weather God is either schizophrenic or bi-polar!

CLOSE CALL

I had a close call with The Grim Reaper today.

As I was exiting the post office my traffic light was green, but just as I entered the highway some ditzy blonde bitch in a green Ford pickup blew right through the red signal moving well above the speed limit, staring at me the whole time like “What the hell are you doing pulling out in front of me!”

I slammed on the brakes (never let anyone tell you that a front wheel drive car won’t leave black marks) slid sideways and slung all my junk that stays heaped in the backseat into the floorboard. The Ford Floozy just kept on keeping on, never once hitting her brakes or even slowing down. Thank Goodness I was only going about 3 MPH or else there would have been a mating of vehicles and not in a good way.

All I could do was sit there, half in the road and half in the parking lot, trying to get my heart out of my throat and my breathing under control. Luckily I stopped just short of T-boning the Hurrying Harlot but it was too damned close for comfort. I realize everyone is running around like crazy trying to get ready for the holidays but come on people, Safety First and all that. What kinda Christmas is your family gonna have if you’re in the hospital or even worse in the morgue?

In other news: the living room floor is piled up with wrapped presents, the stocking are hung and I have a fine collection of Christmas cards from friends and family. The cats have been playing King of The Mountain on the stacked boxes, shredding paper and unraveling bows to their furry hearts content. Everyone’s been bought for so no more fighting crowds and I actually have several days off next week. Barring schedule changes, I work off Tuesday morning and don’t have to go back until Christmas night. I can’t remember the last time I had Christmas Eve off from work!

Sorry I haven’t visited everyone’s blogs, I can’t do it at work and I haven’t had time what with working OT and trying to get all the shopping done. I promise to get around to everyone as soon as possible, but until then know that I’m thinking of you all and wishing y’all a Merry (and safe) Christmas.

THE FULL BODY PROJECT

Leonard Nimoy is perhaps better know as Star Trek's Dr. Spock but he is also a very well known and respected photographer. His latest gallery showing is "The Full Body Project" featuring not stick thin models but women of size (you can see several of the photos on the website). Never one to follow the crowd, Nimoy has decided to showcase the beauty of the full bodied woman. In his own words:

I asked them to be proud, which was a condition they took to easily, quite naturally. Having completed the compositions that were initially planned, I then asked them to play some music that they had brought with them, and they quickly responded to the rhythms, dancing in a free-form circular movement with in the space. It was clear that they were comfortable with the situation, with each other, and were enjoying themselves.

How wonderful to find a person, and a man at that, who doesn't shy away from a woman with a little meat on her bones. These woman are more what we normal females look like; not those stick thin waifs you see on the catwalk, those boys with boobs whose pelvic bones could and should be considered lethal weapons. These are women who enjoy life, you don't hear skinny women talk about much except their diets and how much they weigh.

Many full-figured women are tormented because they haven't learned to love themselves. I believe this is because society as a whole (TV, magazines and the web are full of diet, weight loss and exercise ads), and so called friends and loved ones in particular, badger them to become something that they're not. Some of us will never be skinny no matter what we do. Age and gravity work on us all. Things settle, the "girls" head south, our asses droop and drag, we get that pooch on our tummies from carrying our children 9 months. And you men don't fare any better: the more your belly sticks out the less ass you seem to have, your hair migrates from the top of your head to your back and shoulders, your "solider" doesn't salute near as often nor does he "raise the flag" near as high. The main difference that I see between the sexes is that no matter how bald, fat, old or wrinkled a man gets, he still considers himself fine. I wish the ladies had the same self confidence. And ladies, you should know that there are guys out there who love your curves, AskMen.com - Skinny vs. Full-Figured Women or this guy and his commenters.

It's like the great poet Sir Mix-A-Lot once said: "I like big butts and I cannot lie."

So Ladies, love yourself. You have to consider yourself lovable before someone else can love you. No one wants someone who considers themselves worthless. You have to decide that you deserve love; hell, you deserve to be adored for the wonderful sexy vixen that you are. And age doesn't count, you can be a silver fox if you want. And men, cut the ladies some slack. A well rounded woman of any age will love you all night long leaving you gasping for breath and jumping for joy.

HO HO HO - OH MY ACHING FEET

Ah, what sweet relief to finally get home and take off those damn shoes (wiggles toes in bliss). I’m used to sitting in front of a bank of ‘puters that look like something aboard the Star Trek Enterprise for 12 hours (which explains why my arse is soooooo big and my feet aren’t - as you can see in the pic to the right. Yeah, I work hard. Shut up damn it, I get paid for what I know not what I do, not to say I don't do anything ........), not traipsing from store to store in search of the perfect Christmas presents for my tribe of nieces and nephews great and small.

The stores are already thronged by masses of Christmas shoppers, and its assholes and elbows to get to the good stuff. As usual, Jr. just HAS to have the latest gewgaw in fashion and Mom & Dad are bound and determined that the youngster not be shamed in front of his peers. It hasn’t gotten to the bloody mayhem stage yet but I predict that in only a few days time we’ll see newscasts of shoppers fighting in the aisles. There was an EMS vehicle in front of the mall and several cops talking to some young men but I couldn’t tell what happened; it seems that I missed all the excitement, Thank Goodness.

I managed to get 90% of my shopping done, so I’m good. I hate to wait until the last minute and then grab just anything. A gift should show some thought, it's not how much you spend but the fact that you cared enough to think of something that fits the personality of the gifted/giftee.

Now it’s time to kick back on the couch and watch the latest episode of Torchwood on BBCAmerica. Captain Jack is a doll and what with all the overtime that I've been working I've gotten behind on whats happening, plot twists etc. Plus I just have to have my dose of eye candy before bedtime, conductive to sweet dreams don't ya know! Nite Y’all.

TAGGED - BOOK MEME

Ell over at the Pomegranate Tiger has tagged me with a book meme.

Instructions:
1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fourth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences along with these instructions.
Don’t search around and look for the “coolest” book you can find. Do what’s actually next to you.
5. State the book title and author.

Being a person who follows directions well (OK, stop laughing y'all!)I spin my 'puter chair around and grab the first book off the top of the stack in the floor (the bookshelves are overflowing and I have books stacked all over the house. No flat surface is left empty, dusty tomes litter every spare inch of surface and I've already read most of them). I open the cover, flip to page #123 and count down four sentences. Here's what I find:

She started to take off her uniform shirt, then stopped.
"What?"
"I'm too fat."
"You're goddamn right." She always said she was fat. One time I'd told her that she should shut up about it, that large black women wore their fat like mink coats.

From "Drinking Coffee Elsewhere" by Z. Z. Packer, a wonderful collection of short stories that tease, tempt and tantalise your emotions. All the stories are written from a growing up Black prospective but one also meets an array of other characters; from African American church ladies, white intellectuals, to inner-city dwellers, but the morals and feelings of these literary gems apply to us all. Well written, these tales don't have the feel of the usual short story but instead are well fleshed and thoroughly enjoyable.

This is my first book by Z. Z. Packer and I'm making it a point to find some more of her works. She's been published in lots of magazines (starting when she was just 19). Her work has appeared in Seventeen, Harper's, The Best American Short Stories (2000), Ploughshares and has been anthologized in 25 and Under: Fiction.

EVENING STROLL

Opening one eye to check what o’clock it was, I was blinded by the light! A ray of lethal brilliance stabbed straight through my pupil and into the pain center of my puny half-awake brain. Instinct made me jerk the covers over my head, blocking out that damned invasive sunbeam, until I had time to decide whether it was worth the trouble of getting up or if I should just be lazy and catch a few more hours of shuteye. After working 3 straight weeks of midnights, sunlight’s only a distant fond memory. It’s usually twilight by the time I get up and hit the road, and still dark when I head back home; good thing I don’t suffer from SAD! Deciding that a beautiful day was too good to waste I half heartedly talked myself into getting up early and catching a little daylight before hitting the plant.

After slowly easing my head out from under the quilt and shoving the cats out of the way I staggered out of bed and into the shower. 15 minutes of pounding hot water later I was starting to feel half way human and ready to face the world. Dressing warmly, I headed for Recede, the company park, located on the Tennessee River and only 10 minutes from work. That way I could stroll the riverbank to my heart’s content and not have to worry about clocking in late.

There’s something about water that’s always called to me. The sound of a fountain, the vista of any lake or river, the majesty of the ocean; it doesn’t matter as long as it’s peaceful and not too crowded. This time of year there are no campers and there weren’t any fishermen out today, so I had to the place all to myself. TVA always drops the river’s level in the winter so there was plenty of room to walk along the shore, the exposed sand and pebbles showcasing treasures hidden by muddy water the rest of the year. The sunlight was bright enough to require shades but the breeze off the river was chilly, making me glad that I had my work jacket on. All in all, a nice day for a leisurely stroll.

Nickel sized muscle shells crunched beneath my feet, scaring away the mallard ducks who minutes before were busily catching minnows in the slew that borders the side of the park. Oddly shaped chunks of driftwood lay haphazardly upon the sand, smoothed and rounded by the tossing and turning of the river’s current: Mother Nature’s works of art deco. River rocks and quartz nuggets gleamed in spotlights of sunbeams, free gems for anyone who had an eye for beauty.

As I walked I noticed several sets of deer tracks leading down to the water. The largest ones no bigger that those made by a decent sized dog but the smallest ones....... OH! They were so tiny! It almost looked as if someone had stabbed two fingers into the sand; the fawn couldn’t have weighed more than a few pounds (what the deer hunters around here call a “shoebox deer” because when dressed out it would fit inside a shoebox). I could picture Mom and baby deer tiptoeing down the bank, nervous and afraid of anything that moved. Not only did they have to be wary of wild predators, it’s deer season here. Believe me, there are lots of rednecks who aren’t above shooting Bambi. But in movie of my imagination, they drank unmolested and continued back into the safety of the forest; the fawn’s dappled coat blending into the shadows of the undergrowth. Hey, it’s my story and I’ll tell it the way I wanta.

Then my time was up. The setting sun made the temps drop causing me to zip up my coat, peep at my watch, give the river one last lingering glance and then head on out for work to make a dollar or two more.

REVISITING FAVORITE BOOKS

"He had discussed it in great detail with the two people in the world closest to him: his wife and his mistress. Anna, a middle-aged, ugly, bitter woman of peasant stock, had ordered him to keep away from the airport and stay in the background so that he could not be blamed if anything went wrong. Melina, his sweet, beautiful young angel, had advised him to greet the dignitaries. She agreed with him that an event like this could catapult him into instant fame. If Skouri handled this well, at the very least he would get a raise in salary and - God willing - might even be made Commissioner of Police when the present Commissioner retired. For the hundredth time Skouri reflected on the irony that Melina was his wife and Anna was his mistress, and he wondered again where he had gone wrong."



Damn, I wish I could write like Sydney Sheldon!

FUNNY

THANKSGIVING MORNING

A blustery breeze swirled moist mustard yellow leaves around my ankles as I stepped out of the car. Dawn’s anemic sun peeked through the remnants of storm clouds, casting a sickly sepia tone over everything. Last night’s thunder-boomer had passed; a goose-bump inducing drop in temperature and icy mud puddles the only evidence that summer’s long drought was over.

Puppies peeked out of the insulated doghouse, little black noses and floppy ears signaling that while they noticed Mommy was home, not one sorry flea-bitten hound bothered to leave their shared body warmth long enough to say “Good Morning”. Can’t say as I blame ‘em. Usually they play this fun game of twining around my legs or darting beneath my foot just as I try to take a step, trying to see if they can trip me between the car and the house. Selfish beasties, letting a little cold and wet interfere with their display of doggy affection, I should short them on their kibble rations!

After a long 12 hours sitting on my ample ass in front of a bunch of computers I was ready to hit the bed and snuggle with the poo-kitties for a long nap. I shed my coat and bags in the kitchen and was walking through the house leaving a trail of clothes behind me when I noticed the blinking amber light on the answering machine. Thinking “It’s Thanksgiving, someone is inviting me to fix a plate on the way to work or just giving me a cheery 'Happy Turkey Day” I hit the play button.

A sad/little boy lost/I just lost my best friend/nobody loves me voice said “Junebugg, its ex-sweet thang. I just wanted to talk, give me a call”. NOW HE WANTS TO TALK. Sounds like a personal problem to me, and it ain't no problem of mine.

Hitting the delete button, I slid between the sheets with the cats draped on each side of me and drifted off to dreamland. After all, I don’t get a day off until nest Friday week and I don’t have time for all the drama.

My new motto courtesy of Popeye: “I stands all I can stands and I can’t stands no more”