After a week trapped in my house with no vehicle, I was actually looking forward to going back to work this morning. You know, just so I could have somewhere to go. One of my coworkers lives just up the road, and she said I could ride with her for as long as I needed to. Which I hope isn't too much longer.
Beverly and James got back from Texas last night, so after work this afternoon, I borrowed their car and went to Wal-Mart. I don't like driving other people's cars, because I'm always afraid I'm going to wreck it or mess something up. Plus, they drive differently than mine does. Nevertheless, I did get out and drive to the store and back. It felt good to get out of the house. Better yet, I now have my life sustaining supplies of cat food, chocolate milk mix, bananas, and Christmas Candy. I'm good. For a few more days at least.
They also brought me back a couple of things from Texas. The rifle on the left was my daddy's.
It's a 30-30, and they don't even make these kind any more. James told me all about it, but that was yesterday. I have a hard enough time remembering what I ate for breakfast this morning, much less something someone told me a whole day ago.
I'm not completely sure why my uncle had it. I know my Mammaw had called Dad one time and asked him to come get all of the guns out of her house, because she was terrified of my Pappaw. He used to sleep from 6:00 PM to midnight, then roam the house for the rest of the night. She was afraid to sleep. Back in those days, there wasn't much they could do about it, but sometimes I wonder if he didn't suffer from PTSD. He fought in WWI in France, but I don't really know any details. We weren't much for sharing in my family.
Anyway, Dad brought some of the guns to our house, but this one ended up at my Aunt and Uncle's house. Before he passed, Uncle made it very clear that this one had been my dad's gun and that it was to come back to one of us. It came to me.
Note to any potential gun thieves out there, this gun isn't at my house. It is securely locked in a vault in a nondisclosed location. And that is where it shall remain. The end.
They also brought me this mug.
Love of the Cowboys is something Uncle and I had in common. When I was overseas, my aunt sent me a videotape of the family Thanksgiving gathering. My uncle was sitting in his rocking chair, in front of the TV watching the Dallas Cowboys, and holding a shotgun. That got quite a few odd looks from my shipmates, until I explained that going hunting had somehow become a family Thanksgiving tradition. One of the kids had just come in from hunting and brought the gun back to Uncle. He was waiting for the commercial to go put it back in his gun cabinet.
So many memories...
But I digress... I used to have a mug just like this. In fact, this one may have been mine, and I left it at their house when I went off to college. That was 30 years ago. See above note regarding remembering what I had for breakfast.
You know how it is when you're used to sleeping until you wake up, then suddenly have to start getting up early, so you keep waking up to check the clock because you're afraid you're going to sleep through the alarm? Yep, that was me. Every hour last night. Needless to say, I'm a bit tuckered.
I'm going to bed.