$5 Rabies Shot Per Dog

A Tweet told me of $5 rabies shots in town, loading up six of my slightly more reasonable dogs, the two elderly ones outraged at the thought of a van ride apparently, Honey I share your sentiment I told 'em, further proving the heat was getting to me, but for a mere $30, the rest were rabied up.  Shatter behaved perfectly, unbelievably so, sat politely as if she'd always been on a leash when the reality involved her never having been so constrained.

I met a lady with 6 Chihuahuas, another lady with 5 Yorkies, both reminding me of my own possible future as a solitary, reclusive dog lady.  Like I'm considered a lady.  But there's no part about someday living here with just dogs that doesn't appeal to me.  Conversely there are three specific women I've been praying for that want to be pregnant and to birth more children.  They are all much younger and less worn out than I.  Honey, I'll take the dogs.

Scotty won his soccer game yesterday after a ridiculously loud and totally unprovoked emotional morning meltdown, rude as all get-out.  Nando lost his game after being up 2-0.

I cheered and fried in the scorching sun, that always seems hotter when one is sitting versus working in the fields.

I sat as silent as a church mouse in Sunday School this morning, wanting to absorb information versus spouting it off like I always do the rest of the week here at home.  A sweet, sweet woman I've always adored was lamenting her grown granddaughter's poor choices and low self-esteem, another woman praying for a job opportunity, another with an unspecified prayer request, another fretting over a teenager of hers, reminding me I don't have a monopoly of heartaches.  Man, is it tough being a parent, or what?

Boss and his wife had gone yard-saling yesterday when we didn't, running into someone who'd sent a couple boxes of clothes for us via him, he'd gotten them in my van at church, Tony's particularly thrilled about it.  I got a new pair of shorts.  I prefer boys clothes for me, as they have decent pockets versus girly pants that don't.

Sabrina's been hired at Captain's D's on the Atlanta Highway, not that close by, but at least it's a job.  At 17 she needs to be saving up for a car, she's certainly college material, she'll be a senior next year.

A bunch of my sons were unusually industrious yesterday, push mowing the meadow while I hacked away at what I used to call The Welcome Garden before I had more kids than time.  It's been terribly unwelcoming, foreboding even, for several years now, it even once had a destination as one meandered the path, but the arbor grew so full of Asiatic jasmine that's it became an impenetrable wall versus a walk-through.  I'm OK with that.

I sat there sweating last night as the sun went down, watching a black field mouse, usually I only see grey ones, and a toad hunting mosquitos for my entertainment, totally forgetting to check on the Super Moon later last night.  I'd gone in to sit by a dadgum fan, cooling my sweat.

Lily'd photographed the bird sitting in her windowsill as she played the guitar, the glass and screen long ago knocked out in someone's ragefulness.  I'm slowly replacing everything, trying to not feel so much resentment at being treated so badly when all I wanted to do was to help.