Good Morning from Tampa!! It's like I'm a remote journalist corresponding from the front lines. Except it's Tampa, not Afghanistan. And there are no cameras. And I'm wearing heels and lip gloss. But other than that, EXACTLY the same. Details Schmetails.
Anyhoo -- I heart Tampa. I do. The people have been extraordinarily nice. The food was yummy to my tummy and there is a beach. {insert sound of a record screeching to a stop}. Let's chat about this momentarily, shall we?
The morning I leave for Tampa I am informed Tampa is oceanfront property. At this point and time I conduct three hitchkicks in the honor of beaches world wide. Don't we all do this when we discovery sand and salt water?
Anyhoo -- I fly down to this paradise city -- where the grass is green and the girls are pretty -- to see the most amazing orange and hues of pink sunset man has ever experienced. It was the ocean...the sun...and beauty. SIGH. I felt at home and at one with life and nature.
But then, we drove. And drove. And drove. I passed an all-you-can-eat pancake sign, a Crate and Barrel, and soon arrived at my destination - a nice hotel with great people .....
no. where. in. sight. of. salt. water. and. sand. I walked straight to the counter to check in.
"Oh fine Sir, living in paradise...knocking on heaven's door....how could you ask for more? Can you please point me in the direction of the path to the water access? For my manna from heaven is salt water and sand and this soul man is hungry."
He blinked three times, tilted his head ever so slightly, asked if I was Jehovah's Witness and then stated the words that made my blood turn cold --
"We don't have any water access. We're are
no where near the beach. But we have a fountain on the patio."
At this point and time I puked, passed out, convulsed, and came to.
I asked, "Does the fountain at least inhabit salt water?"
He said he could add some.
What kind of purgatory am I destined to live? How can I live, if livin is without you -- my beach? What cruel joke of nature has been transposed on my life?
Today I shall sport my sackcloth and smear ash on my face (of course I will accessorize properly) and pray the beach gods that we can find true loves path to one another.
Amen.
Baby Twerp came into this world naked and he feels that is the way the Good Lord expects him to stay. Tryin to keep a stitch of clothing on that child is prit near impossible. He is at one with nature and himself.
So today, like all other days, I laid his clothes and said for the forty eleventh time... "Get your clothes on child, you're naked as a jay bird!" And finally he came downstairs like this....
Uhm, exsqueeze me. I am all about expressing your artistic self through fashion, but this just ain't gonna cut it. No way. No how.
Then OF COURSE Middle Twerp could not stand the fact that BT was getting the slightest bit of attention and the spotlight was not completely on him. He is SOOOO like his father. 
Then we had a little battle on our hands.
I think it was the wrestling singlet look BT was sportin and all.
Oh heaven. It was on like Donkey Kong...
Need I remind anyone of the TWO sets of stitches over the past month.
Ands the shiner BT is still recuperating from...
My cries forth for mercy to the salt water Gods were heard. Cause two of the most beautiful ladies this side of the Mississippi read my tweets and responded with love. Their compassion and grace upon my life were more than I could imagine. As I was walking out of a meeting, I heard the screech of tires and when I turned around, two chickees were throwing me in an SUV and whisking me away. They kidnapped me from my job and took me to paradise. I didn't put up much of a fight. They took me to where there was fabulous food, cheap wine, and giggles. And the later abounded. 
We headed out for a day at the aquarium. 
Why you may ask? Cause a day at the aquarium makes everything better. 
I guess you never know who you might run into at the hip-hoppin aquarium. Always gotta keep your options open.
I moved to the South. Divorced my old life and jumped into bed with Southern life. Mainly so my core body temperature would never have to drop below 100 degrees. I was drawn in by the 
It's one of those days. Maybe it has been one of those weeks. I probably should have seen it coming. Maybe one of those seasons. I just can't seem to get it right. And when one of those days (or weeks or seasons) seems to creep her doubt into my life, I wonder if I will ever quite recover. And if I do, will I forget the lesson - yet again. I want comfort. I want to be where things just fit. So, I take myself to the place where that is -- to the place I can only go in my mind, cause when I travel there now it has all changed. And I cry. I cry cause it's gone. I cry cause she's gone. I cry cause sometimes change is more than I can bear. I cry cause as much as the newness excites me, the legacy tears me back to the comfort of where I come from. I would have liked to live that life forever, to have made that time stand still. But I can't. So hopefully, the roots ground me back to what made me ... well, me.
I seems like I was born with a pride for my family. It was between the 22nd and 23rd chromosomes: green eyes, brown hair, attached lobes, love for the farm. It's one of those mutations. I think it was from the well water. And so when I need a place of peace, this is where I go. (you can click to see bigger) 
My Great Grandma and her daughter, my Great Aunt, lived right next door in a 19th century farmhouse. Granma had lived there since her weddin day -- just look how happy they were....
Granma and Auntie loved me. Raised me. Accepted me. Made me - me. Somehow, me and Auntie had an understanding that most folks just didn't know. I got her. I didn't pity her -- I honored her. I understood. She not only had my compassion, but my pride. To me, she was brave even as she stayed on the farm from fear. She was, well - My Auntie. 
Auntie loved animals. Loved them. We spent many spring days in they hay barn with another litter of kittens being born. Life seemed so exciting, fresh, simple, and well -- precious. Auntie taught me everyone deserves a second chance. That once you understand someone you can then grow to love them. Cause the root of all love is understanding. 
Granpa would take me out on the corn picker in the falls. Never talked. But he didn't have to. Granpa taught me when you understand and love someone, sometimes words can just mess it all up.
"911. What's Your Emergency?" That is how I am going to start answering the phone when my Spawns' school calls. Cause it is always somthin. I feel like each month I am stockin up on the latest first aid treatment. This month, they musta been runnin a special on stitches. 
But I was called to school for MT who busted his lip. If you will recall this is the second time we have needed stitches this month - first Baby Twerp, now this one. Child Protective servicesis gonna start knockin on my door. And I will blink my eyes, look all innocent and say "Uhm, THIS paddle? It's for churnin butter. I am a Country Girl and all. Amen." 
When I picked MY up from school, it was actually all calm -- all fine and dandy -- until I turned at the stoplight and rounded the bend. Now let me let you in on a little secret. Life is good when your children cannot read. Cause when they have a busted lip and blood gushing from their capillaries, and they see this sign? Wails. Gnashing of Teeth. I am tellin ya -- Flailing of Arms. Help me, Hooked on Phonics! 
"Are we going to the Mer-Gancy Room?"
So I called in the reinforcements. I can't handle pain, or screams, or needles, or non-bedazzled items. But that's another story for another time.
Anyhoo -- he's all stitched up and gettin lots of lovin. And I've forwarded all my calls straight to 911. There is a 40.11% chance that's were we will end up anyways.
