Between You and Me

I’m just sitting here sipping on a Diet Mt. Dew and thinking to myself that it’s been a very long time since I’ve written in my diary. Previous to that thought, I was reading a few of my favorites and leaving notes here and there. I even read an entry from someone new that I felt compelled to leave a note for. I rarely read anyone new, and I certainly don’t expect any return notes. I’m not someone that you’d want to “follow.” My writing has become less and less. I don’t seem to have a lot to offer, save words of encouragement where I feel they can be used. I was going to say appreciated. Didn’t want to give the impression that I note out of a false sense of concern or out of a need to feel appreciated. If I leave you a note, I AM COCNERNED, and/or for some inexplicable reason, I consider you a friend. Deal with it. 🙂

Even though I’ve said before that I would never want to leave OD, the thought has in recent weeks crossed my mind a few times. For whatever reason, it feels like I’m going to work, when it comes to sitting down to write a diary entry. How therapeutic can THAT be?

Oh yeah, I can use some therapy, words of encouragement, maybe some pooh-poohing. I could probably use a good f*ck lots more. And more than any of that, I’d rather have a grandchild or 2 or 3. There’s a lot lacking in my life right now. A little more than I care to admit. So I don’t. And I don’t write. And I spend my time making use of myself where I can, and other times as Floyd would say, “frittering away the hours in an off hand way.”

Complaining right now when a whole section of our country is in devastation, may seem selfish. If I could, I’d go down myself and offer assistance. My only aid for now will be in the form of money. I hope it can be put to good use. For those that think about showing up on Red Cross ground zero in New Orleans, a word of caution. I have a friend that lives in a nearby city. She and her daughter took it upon themselves to go down and volunteer their time. They were told without a “badge” they could not help. I’m somewhat confused by that. So were they.

Since I’m here, and it IS my diary, complain I will. Monday I had an emergency root canal. I’m still in a lesser degree of pain today. Hope it goes away soon. Nothing worse than a nagging pain in your mouth. (Unless of course the pain happened to be located somewhere south of the border.) There’s more work to be done too. I’ve been a bad girl and stayed away from dentist dearest for too long. There is some rework that needs to be done. Oh what a price we pay for procrastination. I do like my new dentist though. He reminds me of the first one I ever went to, which by the way was not until the age of 18. We was po folk. Paid the price for that too.

A couple of weekends ago I was able to pick up the final box of my dad’s personal effects. His wife’s daughter cleaned out their house, and everything of dads, she boxed up, and set up north with my aunt. They called me to see if I’d like to pick it up, and so I did. Small box, but heavy in content. She did a great job of packing. I went through it ever so briefly. There are several pictures and military memorabilia that I’m looking forward to pouring myself over . . . . when the time is right. For now, it’s not. This will be a labor of love.