God bless my Daddy on this day. He is 84 years old, and volunteered for the Army in WWII. Shot 8 times while in the Philippines, crept own his own to the field hospital, left with the dead and dying once he got there as he was injured so badly, finally transported down a mountain on top of a truck, under sniper fire, and spent 8 months in an Army hospital in New Caledonia, only to return to the field of battle and occupy Japan after the war. I love you, Daddy! From a hillbilly farm boy to a warrior to a cotton mill worker to my father; you represent what America truly is.

WELLLLLLLLL, snap-a-dap-dap!

There's more drama at my son's high school than an amateur Shakespeare festival. I won't go into details because I kinda like getting a paycheck but it ain't nothing you can't read in the paper.

A meal from the Value Menu at Wendy's has quelled my hunger, but now I want chocolate. Woe is me.

Cleaned out one of the storage rooms today to glean stuff for a yard sale we're having next weekend. A lot of stuff from the beach house. When the first of it started moving out, I had myself a little cry and got that over with. Some things I won't part with, like the lamp Daddy made from a cypress knee, and the tiny little picture of a guy at a ship's wheel and Jesus resting his hands on his shoulders. Those things were in there for over 30 years and I can't bear to part with them. If I ever get another beach house, they'll go in that.

Tomorrow we start on the other room. This is hard, dirty, allergy-affecting work. I bet we won't make crap off of this. But it will be over and I can live in peace again.

Speaking of living in peace, Christmas certainly doesn't creep up on little cat feet anymore. I feel like it's already Christmas, and Halloween was just last Saturday. When I was a kid it seemed like it would take forever for Christmas to come after Halloween. Now it's like Oh, Hell. It's Christmas already?