Misty here this morning and 68 degrees. I just told my day nurse I would return to work next week, open my shop for business. She said, "No, Sir, you will not. If you do your insurance coverage will cease."
Well just kiss my butt. What's that old saying, 'what they don't know won't hurt them.' Yeah, like that.
I was able to watch Swamp People last evening. I like the show, but some little things about it bug the hell out of me. Has anyone else, besides me, noticed their rifles...well, I have and it's downright criminal. Those rifles haven't seen a good cleaning in years. On the program last night one of those 'ole boys held a Ruger 10/22 caked in rust. Patches big enough to have given life to alien critters. It's shameful.
In some shots the 'shooter' of the gator will have a Ruger Mini-14, the scene changes and he's now holding a Marlin model 60. You'd think they could at least keep a consistent timeline in the footage. And for Pete's sake invest in stainless steel barrels if you're too damn lazy to use an oil rag.
I had a sad drive this morning with Little Bit. She jumped into my truck all happy. Said, "Papa, it's only three days until my birthday." Replied I knew and was happy for her.
Down the road a bit she turned to me, all smiles, holding my hand. Then, "Papa, is my mommy coming down and is she going to stay at your house and will she be at my birthday party?"
I waited a few seconds before giving her the answer I knew she didn't really need. Made an excuse of minor adjustments to my wipers.
She turned towards me and waited. I again took her hand in mine and smiled at her and said, "Sweetheart, I'm not sure. It's possible but you do understand your mother is sick, don't you, and when adults are sick it's hard for them to travel (Lord, please forgive my lies to this child) and perhaps it's best if she didn't come down."
Without a sound she turned from me and held a steady gaze outside her window. A few minutes later she leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. I tried a few times for a response. Nothing. I tried to tickle her, didn't work. The morning was gray and wet and I felt a sorrow so deep it almost made my bones ache. I hate this.
As we made our turn for her breakfast I tried again..."Little Bit, Papa's sorry. I really am. I love you." Reached over and stroked her face. "But remember, Honey, you'll have Papa and Nana and Dad, and your step-mother. It'll be a nice party.
Then, "She always lies to me, Papa. She always lies."
Sadly, she's correct.
I parked the truck and asked her if I could hold her for a while. She slowly, very slowly, came to my arms. I held her close, kissed her. We stayed that why for far too long. Our time is limited of mornings, but it was worth it.
She came around and as we walked inside the restaurant she was again all smiles and giggles.
It'll take me a little longer.