Johnny Dear's Farewell Weekend

This is the last month for me cutting the front of our subdivision til Spring. I'll miss that check once a month but won't miss the cutting. First off I have to pick up all the trash people carelessly toss out their car windows into the ditches on either side of our street. Today I filled an entire kitchen bag with cups, bottles, cans and believe it or not an empty Styrofoam raw chicken tray like chicken comes in from the grocery store. I can't stand litterbugs. How hard is it to wait until you stop or get home to throw something away?

As usual I was in my grass cutting gear.

This is a pic Massey took when I was tromping through the cemetery where my parents are buried.  Ratty shorts, coolest  top I can find and my trusty flip flops. When it's a bazillion degrees outside I just wear my bathing suit top with shorts. Sometimes it pays to have itty bitty ta ta's.

After I picked up all  the trash I cut both sides. Then like the good Samaritan I am, go back out into the street and blow all the clippings back onto the grass. That's the easy part. On both sides of our street are ditches with tons of huge exposed rock. After I broke my second mower blade decided to weed eat them instead of riding. A weed eater only weighs a few pounds but when you don't even weigh a hundred and are five foot four after about fifteen minutes it feels like you are slinging around a fifty pound piece of equipment. It kills my shoulder but there is nothing more pleasing than finishing up and admiring your handiwork. I'll have to admit, I do a bang up job.

I was working under pressure. I had to be at work by four and had promised Barb I would go by our new favorite BBQ place and pick her up some sandwiches. She's the eating-est thin woman I've ever met. She told me last night at work before I left, "I want three sandwiches and some Brunswick stew." I told her last time I went and Massey was with me she wanted one of their loaded potatoes...a baked potato split in two filled with pulled pork, sour cream and cheddar cheese. Barb added "Get me one of those too."

Last weekend when exhausted after work and my table sat for over a hour after paying, another server offered to clean the table for me and sweep so I could leave. She refused to take any money  from me so told her I would pay her back with homemade toll house cookies. I bought the stuff to make them with on Monday but was just too tired to make them when I got home from work. She worked tonight so before I went to  the front of the subdivision to cut, left out two sticks of butter to soften and planned on being through with the front by one, make cookies til two and be on the road to the BBQ place by two thirty.

I only had time to bake two pans but have the rest of the dough in the fridge for tomorrow. At least I had her twenty four cookies. Jumped in the shower and left only fifteen minutes later than anticipated.

You know me, had to stop for gas and put water in my radiator. I got smart and called in my order to the BBQ place. I've been going there the past few weeks after waiting on the owners one night at work. I called work to tell Len, Barb's husband not to eat because I was bringing him a sandwich  too. The server who answered the phone said to bring him one as well. I ended up ordering seven sandwiches, a loaded potato and a pint of stew.

I got to work ten minutes late but fortunately we were slow and they didn't need me. I walked in with  the two huge bags of food and another cook said "I wish I had known you were going there, you  could have brought me one."

Guess I'll just start buying in bulk and selling sandwiches to other employees at a slightly inflated price to compensate for gas.

Drank four cups of coffee and started another shift after scarfing down a yummy BBQ sandwich.

I'm running on fumes.  My last day off was late August and my next  day off is Thanksgiving. I feel like a Latino who can't be kicked out of  the country.

When I checked out tonight, Barb asked how much she owed me for the food? I told her eighteen bucks. She gave me ten and a twenty  five dollar bottle of Chianti which I am drinking right now.

So what I work seven days...at least I am working. There are people who would kill to have my work schedule and unfortunately some who work to avoid it..  I am loved and cared for by  my restaurant employers and have three other days to sometimes rest and read between moving out some mattresses and furniture. I give both jobs my all and that's all you need  to be successful.


Success is defined by Webster as "The achievement of something desired, planned or attempted."

I desire, sometimes ill plan but always attempt.

We aren't rich, aren't poor but simply living hand to mouth and we are happy.

Here's the zinger. Webster's also defines happy as "Enjoying, showing or marked by pleasure, satisfaction or joy."

My life hits all the marks. I am successful and I am happy.

Tens of millions would be grateful to walk in my flip flops.

Heading to bed  to resume my horizontal position. Waking up again tomorrow, now today and kicking butt again .

What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. The more YOU love the more you will BE loved.

Til next  time, a much wiser COTTON