I realized
I was late with this blog yesterday. But before I could actually do anything
about it I had to:
Start on
the problem of my upright freezer. Somehow the door had been left open. Stuff
had to be tossed, saved for a friend, and the damage assessed. Then I took to
the friend what might be ok. Maybe. She’s has the
maturity and experience to know if she opens something up that might be skeevy
to NOT EAT IT! Six huge bags left. The not possible to save, Alaskan King crab
legs (whined over that one), ice cream in every form, multitudes of vegetables,
as well as all that had been dripped on. Luckily, the crab was in the bottom.
However, our garage smells like a bait shop.
I took the
bags of trash to the dumpster in the closest town at one of our seed cleaning
facilities (unmanned at this time, thank goodness). Delivered the possible
skeevy stuff to the friend forty-five miles away (yes, a friend I might see
weekly on grocery/part runs). And all seemed to be going ok, when I saw a sexy
Harley parked alongside the road with the passenger examining a large floppy
book. It looked like a map book to me. It is supposed to get to ninety-eight
degrees this afternoon and they already looked cooked, so I stopped. Oh, yea,
they were in trouble. They'd called the nearest Harley roadside help. I let
them know the nearest was two and a half hours away and offered to take them to
the nearest town so they could wait in the cool with a water source, food, and…a
bathroom. They locked that sucker up so quick and jumped in my little small
pickup seat like they were afraid I'd evaporate. We squeezed together but I got
a kiss on the cheek when they were delivered for being an angel. Sixteen miles out of my way, but hey, that's nothing out here. After a call to
the Sheriff’s department to let them know about the Harley and the whereabouts
of the owners, I got to come home and start cooking.
Harvest
starts Monday. Cooking for fifteen this year.
I still
need to fine tune the big game plan, but I needed to pay bills and get this blog
out. I put off the bill paying a few minutes more to see if I couldn't get
creative. Nothing came to mind except that it is difficult to be a writer, no
matter who you are. There are always challenges to be faced in anyone’s life.
Time to suck it up and get back to work. Time to save and recharge your
batteries before life breaks your legs and makes you rest.
You see, on the way to deliver the
food, I called ahead to ask for coffee. I hadn't had a chance to have any yet.
Then, when I arrived and after the food was away, I got to savor the coffee,
homemade cookies, and some serious conversation as I whined about the four
people who needed some constant help this last week through some serious
problems. My friend explained to me that there are people who will use you up
and then go on to the next. That to survive sometimes a person must refuse to
help with someone else’s needs. Being a reverent sort, I got treated to a bit
of Bible wisdom that is seldom said these days because cooperation and teamwork
is currently espoused by our society. Help those willing to help themselves. I got to thinking on that drive home that maybe I should also look at the non-human things that also suck me dry...like an aphid on a rose bush.
Therefore,
I helped myself to a Google search. I asked what is the hardest part of being a
writer. Oh, my. It turns out I have a lot of the ‘hardest parts’. Maybe you do too. Here’s a link to the search. Have fun.
Warm regards
to everyone. Happy June.
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