Why do bad things happen to good people?? It was really a depressing week. I'm glad it's the beginning of new one. Surely it can't be as "down" as this past one. Please don't make me go into the particulars. Just trust me that I need something positive to happen this
week...anything! Remember the saying, "When things get tough, the tough get going." That isn't me unfortunately. When things get tough, I crawl in my bed in my dark bedroom with its heavy dark curtains and pull the covers up over me and hum a few verses of "poor me". I can hear you saying,"Girl, you need some serious mind-altering drugs....a little Paxil, or Zoloft, or maybe Lexapro." Not to worry. I am on one of the aforementioned "uppers", but apparently the one I take doesn't have enough upper in it! The warning on the label says, may cause depression....duh! Personally, just give me a Xanax and a few sips of the something fermented and I will at least try to tackle my problems. Unfortunately because of my job I cannot partake in either of the above mentioned remedies. Random drug screening prevents any indulgence of that sort.

So how is it that I have now paid more in vet and farrier bills than what I originally paid for my Gabe? Don't get me wrong. If Gabe is never able to be ridden again, I will keep him and love him and never regret buying him. He is my love. All 2000 lbs of him! He is spoiled and rotten and yes, I made him that way. We are working on our "manners" and our "respect for Mom". We just need a little more work....well, maybe a LOT more work. But he's worth every penny and bit of time I spend on him. He makes me feel young again and that's the part I love most.

The Beginning

I remember when I was sixteen and had my first diary. I thought all my feelings and emotions were safe inside mainly because it had a KEY. I, of course, was a naive teenager. It never dawned on me that my mother would find a way to read it with or without a key. I had my first love at that age and I guess the things I wrote in my diary at the time did NOT set well with my "Elder of the Church" Daddy or my paranoid, let's buy her a chasity belt, mother! Since that horribly embarassing time I have never had another diary OR written down anything that I didnt want anyone else to read. I was of the opinion that what happened in Las Vegas, stated in Las Vegas!

Janice, my sister, says it is therapuedic to write a blog. A what?, I said. Does the initials stand for something? Blog?? Oh well, I want to give it a try. I feel the need to "vent" sometimes but as I was raised to do, I hold it all in most of the time. Who really cares about my feelings and my emotions or happenings day to day? I suppose most people are just "nosey". It's fun to find out what kind of skeltons are in others' closets. I must admit I'm a bit curious sometimes about people's daily living and how they cope with life in general. If people who write blogs are honest than the entertainment factor is greater. Therapuedic or not, whoever came up with this on-line diary is a genious!....

You know, the Lord forgave me for my earlier rotten life, in a marriage that probably never should have happened. I'm not going to dwell on that. It was another life time ago. The only good thing in my opinion that came from it is my four children. I love them to a fault, if that's possible, and I think it is. I make good money as an RN but I stay broke. I can't seem to deny them anything if it's in my power to provide. It's not good for them and certainly not for me. My oldest, my daughter, is living with me now with her husband and my oldest granddaughter. A few months has turned into almost two years. I should put them out. But I won't. In truth, I probably need them more than they need me. My granddaughter is a senior this year and will graduate from Robert E. Lee High school next May. She'll be off to college somewhere and I will miss her terribly.

Some of my family and friends talk about my "burdens to bear". They are referring to my disabled, sick husband, and of course, my live-in daughter and her family and the long twelve hour shifts that I have to pull at the hospital. I enjoy their concern and take great pleasure in letting them console me. In reality, I am a selfish old woman who loves the attention and "poor you's" that folks give me. The truth is, my husband and daughter are NOT a burden. And the twelve hour shifts, two days on, three off, is not THAT bad either. This poor old woman...fat as I am...can handle working AND having a disabled husband, second family to care for. Now for the TRUTH....

My best friend, Jen, who also lives in our house, is the TRUTH. She takes care of ME, my disabled husband and handles all "things" requiring any "effort". She fixes his meds, fills his insulin shots, takes him to appointments, pays his bills, cooks a lot of his meals (when my daughter doesn't cook) and in addition, washes my uniforms, clothes (his and mine), takes the dogs to the vet, gives them their monthly pills and generally runs the house except for what my daughter does. What does poor me do?? I sleep, I eat, I get waited on and I get up and go to work (ho hum) three times a week. I am so ashamed. It's out of the closet now. I'm a fraud. My so-called burdens are really someone elses. The only time I move at home is when I get up to go to the bathroom (I haven't figured out yet how to have someone do it for me). So yall don't feel sorry for this old lady. She really has it good....REAL good. Until next time.....