Sometimes my life reminds me of an engine with a clogged carburetor. I finally get it to moving along and then choke, chuggle, pop, pop, it slows again. I'm working on unclogging my mental carburetor, but it's seldom that straight line graph of progression that I covet.
I've been in Oklahoma 7 or so months and I've already reverted back to grease monkey metaphors.
Still, I have this unshakeable belief that I am doing what I should be doing, even though I'm not at all sure what the grand scheme really is. I'm still amazed that "going home" is soooooo far from what has become my comfort zone.
Mrs. W, breeder of the yet unamed lovely, Prissy, Dottie and the belated Millie, Fancy and Dollie, is undergoing surgery today-a masectomy. If you stop by and are so inclined, I would appreciate a prayer or good thought in her direction. She has given me and my family a lot of little bundles of joy over the years, and I'd kind of like to keep her around.