The Problems with Identity.

 The Problems with Identity.

 

Just read an article about how FB had had accounts stolen and used to bilk money from a person’s friends. It might help if we had to remember our passwords rather than having them stored on the computer, but meanwhile let me just make something clear to those who read this blog: the old woman will never ask for donations for a burial (already have cremation policy); no longer have a tractor for sale; don’t plan to leave this hill until it is either in a body bag or kicking and screaming while the kids cart me off to a nursing home; have sufficient resources to pay all utilities and tax bills; have no debts at all; have absolutely no interest in Taylor Slow or any other screamer of obscenities. If this garbage keeps up—stealing accounts—will simply turn off the electronic devices and go back to reading real books—or at least my large print Bible.

 

Would rather not categorize the places that ache today, but will just let you know that it seems to me that a body can certainly fall apart faster than a speeding bullet and certainly hinder jumps higher than—well, nevermind the jumping part at all! Let’s stick with walking and attempting to pull one’s blouse over one’s head! It makes sense to me now why older women want house dresses that snap up the front and don’t require lifting one’s arms either over the head or pulling anything forward of the body. Son of a gun! Can’t imagine picking up a saddle and throwing it on the back of a horse!

 

Made some semi-soup. No, it did not involve an eighteen-wheeler or anything of that nature. But it was most unlike any soup made around here in who knows how long! Had a few pieces of celery left and part of an onion to add to a few chopped up carrots. Those were the basis of the soup along with some leftover V-8 juice. Salt and pepper were the only condiments. Tasty, if not all that solid. But no potatoes or anything with carbs in it made its way into the “soup.” At least the fridge is getting cleaned out.

 

Patty’s Roxy had a bath and grooming this morning. The man drives up in his pickup pulling a little trailer he can stand up in while washing, drying, and plucking all the excess hair off the little lady. She had so much excess fur this time that it clogged up his sink three times!! When she got on my lap outside on the patio, she was still throwing hair into the wind. Never seen that much hair on such a small dog! If she had been out in the wind the past few days, she might not have had that much to remove!

 

Talked to Sterling for a few minutes. His friend George got to come home but he can’t have anything but liquids for the next five days. Sterling went over last night and stayed until George got his bath so they would know he wasn’t going to fall out or anything. So glad that he at least got to come home. Now if that ulcer will just heal up completely, maybe he and Sterling can continue to enjoy one another’s company.

 

They got a real rain up there in NW Arkansas. Last time Sterling said they got a three-inch rain—drops three inches apart—not enough to make streaks on his windshield. That’s about what we got here last night—well, and some thunder. We really need a good toad strangler, but that simply may not happen. May God forgive us for being so demanding and bless us and the critters out there in the dust. Would be pretty hard to be a lawn service right now.

 

Someone looked up the work record of Elvis Presley and found that he had had several low paying jobs—starting off by mowing lawns. Many a young person paid for school clothes by mowing grass or chopping cotton in this part of the world. Wonder if kids still do those things today? Well, not the chopping cotton stuff since they tend to spray the entire fields with glysophate or some such chemical. Nevermind what the stuff does to the water table when it soaks into the ground. But sitting here remembering that we paid for our first baby’s doctor bill by picking up pecans on family land. Went to sleep tired at night and dreamed of pecans and reaching out for more of them in my dreams! But Dr. Schaffner’s bill was paid before Lance was born—as was the hospital bill. We won’t ever have any Elvis kids born in this family, but they will all be able to make a living if they want to. The grass will inevitably grow or the dogs need to be walked, so that is pretty simple. But all my grands would either be allergic to one or the other! Sigh. Guess they will have to learn to produce music with A-eye!

 

Whether it is in the next few years or sooner or later, God’s kingdom will be known throughout the universe. Every knee will bend and every head will bow to the Son of God, Jesus Christ. May we look forward to that day with joy filled hearts!

 

Rest well, my friends. You are loved.