I've thought about it and thought about it. Then I thought about it some more. Stood back and looked at the options and gave it a bit more thought.

I know what I need.

1. An ice chest full of crushed ice.
2. Drinks--Pepsi's and 2 wine coolers.
3. Peanuts and a couple of sandwiches.
4. Smokes.
5. My "medication".
6. Fully stocked tackle box.
7. Two fishing rods.
8. Photo I.D., fishing license, and gun permit.
9. Ibuprofen.
10. Shotgun.
11. Pistol.
12. Ammo-lots of ammo.
13. Pocket knife.
14. Rapala fishing knife.
15. Minner bucket/shiners.
16. Toilet paper.
17. Trash novel.
18. Ball cap.
19. Light jacket.
20. Sunglasses.
21. Camera.
22. Quilt.
23. One summer day, slightly overcast.

Load all of that, and me, into a boat and take me about a mile down-river. Put me and my gear out on a sandbar just after daybreak. And leave me there.

By myself.

For the whole day.

I just want to sit there and stare at the water. I have questions and mental tangles and junk to go thru and over. I also need a day away from it all. Away from phones and clocks. And as childish as this is gonna sound, away from people telling me what to do. See, I told you it was childish! But I want the down-time to figure things out.

Maybe do a little fishing. Take a few pics. Read some.

Mostly I just want to sit. And listen to the sounds around me. And stare at the river rolling by.

For the whole, danged day.

I DO need one more little thing.

WILL SOMEBODY PLEASE COME AND GET ME OFF OF THE FREAKING RIVER BEFORE IT GETS FREAKING DARK???

Thank you for your support. Slick

Well hello again folks! Sorry I have been out of touch for the last few days. It's been a busy few days around here but maybe it will slow down for a few. Maybe.

I went to Albany with Daddy Thursday morning, as he was scheduled for surgery. On his toe. He was a bit concerned, but it was a simple in-and-out. He had a really sweet doctor who called me to the back to explain what was going to happen, and then, in just a few minutes, they had removed a piece of bone about half the size of a dime, loaded Daddy into the truck, and we were gone! We stopped at the drugstore and I went in to get three scripts filled for him, it didn't take too long, but when I got back to the truck the old man was GONE!

GONE!

I looked to see if he was in the back seat of the cab and of course he wasn't there. He was nowhere to be seen in the parking lot and he wasn't on the sidewalk! I mean, how far could he have gone in 15 minutes??!? So I went back into the drugstore and was just about to give up and search the remaining stores when I located him hobbling down the last aisle at Eckerds. I hate it when my parents give me the slip like that.

I got him home and went over all of the post-op instructions, his medication, and the emergency phone numbers with him and Momma. Then my mother asked me if I would take her to yard sales on Friday morning, since the dental office was closed that day.

Now Friends, I would rather be beat on the butt with a dead rabbit than go to yard sales.

But she'd had cataract surgery the Thursday before, and I was just about to say that I would, when my father reminded her that she had an appointment with the doctor who removed the cataract. The next day. Momma had forgotten that one. Next thing I know I have volunteered to take her to Tifton for her appointment because she could not drive.
So Friday morning I took her to Tifton. It took longer for that appointment than it did for my father to have his surgery the day before! Go figure. But I had a very nice conversation with another lady in the waiting room, so........ Her doctor said everything was fine and she was doing well.
Then we came back to town and went to Wal-Mart for groceries (where I lost my mother and lapped that dang store THREE TIMES before I found her in the baby department), Eckerds (again), the bakery, the fish market, and then the meat market. And to keep them from having to do it, I put up the groceries and got her settled in. And checked on Daddy again.
When I left my father was kicked back with his foot propped up and my mother was dancing around the kitchen to a Big Band C.D. I had gotten her for her birthday. I hope when I am 70 yrs. old I'm dancing in the kitchen and praising God.

I guess it's my turn to take care of them now. I just hope I can be the daughter my parents deserve, since they were better to me than I deserved.

It has been a heck of a week.

I could have done without most of it.

Seems like every time I left the house I ran into an idiot who believed he was bullet-proof behind the wheel. I saw one near miss that could have been fatal, and as I was right behind the almost-victim-of-stupidity with nowhere to go I could have gotten a bit banged up myself. Along with my daughter and her boyfriend.
When I got to the high school Wednesday to pick up the kids I saw two police cars, lights flashing, and one poor woman in an SUV nose-down in the ditch across from where we pick up. I asked the kids what was going on and they said there had been a big fight in the intersection and the driver had tried to drive around it. And did not make it. She was fine but I have my doubts about her ride. I found out later that it was a fight between two students and one of them pulled a gun on the other one. My two were standing very close by and bullets do not care who they kill. I cannot wait for them to graduate out of that place. I worry about all of them who will still be there next year. And the years to come..... When I was in school (the 70's) you didn't take a gun. Big belt buckles were the weapon of choice. You got beat and hurt but you lived to fight another day.

I made several stops after work yesterday and in one parking lot there were about a dozen of those little brown birds that call parking lots home. I think they are chickadees; Momma calls them "grass birds". Well, I was looking for a Disney Moment so I threw a couple of pieces of bread from the-sorriest-sandwich-I-have-ever-purchased-in-my-life, and we walked off. From across the parking lot I heard the worst commotion! It sounded like a horror movie! The Birds! A dozen of those birds turned into about thirty and they were all after the bread! I ducked inside the store and when I came out again I found my hood splattered with bird...droppings. (Yeah. I thought that would read better than sh**.)
Talk about ungrateful.

On the parental front my mothers' cataract removal was a success! She is doing really well, and I am thankful. On the other hand, Daddys' toe surgery is next Thursday and I may have to drive them back and forth to Albany. The doc said that he would not be able to drive home so I may have to. I will behave if Daddy will behave. My mother, of course, will referee. Fun With Mom And Dad!

AND BOSS-LING GOT A JOB! A real one! He is so happy and so am I. He hasn't worked for at least three years, so he has been at the house. Where I spend most of my day. I mean, I love him and all, but it's just quicker and easier to do what I do with no one there but me and the dog. And since he should be gone by the time I leave the office I might not ever catch him naked again. I have noticed that if you catch your friends naked, it makes things just a tad strange for a while. Double that if it is your bosses husband.

My routine changes job-wise when Boss-ling starts his job Tuesday. More duties but that's okay. I'll turn it to my advantage somehow.

And to top it all off, when I got home yesterday and turned on the computer, trying to get on the Stream, I found I couldn't launch my inner-tube. I clicked on my icon-thingy and my computer threw up a box that I think really said "Excuse me, but do I know you?" "Mail? What mail?" A call to Windstream cleared it up. Service passed away at midnight the night before but they were working on it. I was relieved. I thought that maybe my payment got screwed up somehow. It gives me bad vibes to make a payment at a laundrymat. I gotta start mailing it in.

Gotta scoot for now, ya'll hang loose!

It has been an on-going battle between us since Day One. I refuse to go up in an airplane. I have been on two, and neither were leaving the ground without me ponying up the fee. And I didn't have the dough. One was a B-17 and the other was a B-something-or-other Liberator. I appreciate both for their role in history. People who fly have my respect and admiration for the skills that are needed to do it. If they love what they do, so much the better! For them.

I ain't goin'. Two phrases leap to mind: mechanical failure and pilot error. That's enough for this chicken-hearted soul. If you catch me on a flight it will be a Life Flight helicopter and I won't know a thing about it.
Statistics? No need; I've heard them all.

T-Bird loves flying. He has since he was sixteen. He wants to go for his Sport Pilots' license.
Doc is his buddy. He is a pilot and a good one. He has bought a 1946 Aircoupe.

And I absolutely, completely, without fear, shame, or remorse, without any give-a-damn whatsoever, refuse to go up in the Aircoupe. I have been laughed at, spoken to as if I were a child, and treated as though I'm ignernt (ignorant). It has also been stated that I have no sense of adventure. I have dated every "bad-boy" I could find, and I rode my own bike to Bikeweek and Biktoberfest more than once. I've been married twice. I don't need anymore "adventure".

What is an Aircoupe? It is a teeny-weeny, itsy-bitsy, two-seat airplane.



See? It looks like it fell off of a charm bracelet.



Isn't it just too cuuuuute?!

I have been given so many reasons to do this. I think my favorite is "If you ever go up once you'll love it." I have been told that about chocolate-covered ants, Chinese mustard, and mushroom tea. And there was the straight tequila incident. And a few other things I'd rather not mention. I did not "love it". Liars abound, people. It's like the time they told me that I could pee standing up just as well as a man. NO, I did not try it! I suspected that they just wanted to see if I would actually pee in my own shoes.

"I have never been hit by a drunk driver in my plane."
I have never been hit by one in my car.

"If you're scared, say you're scared."
Okay. I'm scared. How's that?

"Trust me."
Nope. That line is why I have my oldest daughter. Try again.

"This is beautiful country if you see it from a plane."
And so it is. I Googled the satellite image.

"If the engine coughs I know what to do."
I don't have to worry about hurtling to the ground in my car, and it "coughs" all the time.

It has just gone on and on. Then I had a question. "What would you do if you were waaaay up in the air and your passenger freaks? I mean screaming, crying, wetting her pants, re-dedicating her life to God. What do you do then?" Here is the answer I got: "I'd be alright as long as I have a fire extinguisher." Huh? "I'd knock your silly ass out so that I could kill us both in peace and quiet." I asked Doc the same question and got the same answer.
Know what this means? I WIN! Since the freak-out is inevitable, along with the subsequent head-bashing with the fire extinguisher, there is no reason to put my marriage or noggin through the trauma! POINT TO SLICK!

What kills me is the argument that it is so much safer than driving a car. Well, it wasn't the week before Christmas! At 1600 feet, three miles from the airport, and in a banking maneuver, the coupe "coughed". And the motor quit. Just stopped.
Do you know why they call the prop the "pilots fan"? Because when it stops turning the pilot starts to sweat.
It started right back up, thankfully, and they made a landing that neither will ever forget, as they came in entirely too fast and used up every inch of the runway.

I will not repeat all that I said. But I left it at this:

"Thank God that you weren't in a car. You could have been killed."

To all of you who have stopped by this blog and those who cast a vote for me THANK YOU! The people on Blogstream are the best! All of us are winners!



It doesn't get any better than this! Thank you again!