I've not written here in freeform in quite a while now. I think that is what tonight's entry will be. I'll just openly type whatever is on, and or, comes to mind. The emotional period that was marked by my writing so many poems slash songs, has past, I think. It is being replaced by the stress that is everyday life. I suppose that is one way of saying things are returning to normal.

Work is extremely trying at times, and I never feel appreciated. The chaos that is my home has never been any more chaotic. Four adults, two children, two dogs and a cat are a bit much at times. They all seem to want from me at the same time as well.

Both my farm tractor and riding mower are broken, therefore the grass is beyond needing cut, it now needs bailing! I've recently found out, or accepted the fact rather, that my oldest daughter is as dyslexic as I.

She also seems to be under a little too much stress lately herself. I think there are far too many adults here telling her what to do. I catch myself telling her to do this or that mundane task, and force myself to get off my ass and get or do it myself. Too many people are using her as if they had a remote control in their hands.

On the other hand, I am absolutely positive that my wife was screwing around on me, because these children are beautiful and therefore cannot be mine! (tongue in cheek) These two are going to break hearts I'm afraid.

I often am the gatherer of the family. Quite literally, because I do the shopping. I often if not almost always, do this with children in tow. My oldest daughter is now eight, going on eighteen. It is I that choose her clothing. That was decided early on. I don't mind really, as I personally think I am better at it. Why I say that is that simple. I choose clothing that does not market my daughter, nor reveal too much of her. I don't choose clothing that sends out any messages, good or bad. I am, I suppose, totally anal about her clothes. I will not buy all the top designer lines, nor all wal-mart basement bargains. My biggest pet peeve, which happens to be all the rage at her school now, is to advertise some message across their asses! �SEXXXY!� or �HOTTIE!� I think not! Not on MY daughter's derriere anyway! ugh!

The heir apparent, brother-in-law, whatever we want to call him today, while some better, has a way to go before I'll say he has a clue. Basic things have just been lost on this guy I tell you! I swear, I don't mind him borrowing my things, but you would think that it would dawn on him to ask! He got angry with me, or had his feelings hurt, whichever way you want to look at it, because I told him I didn't really want him using my truck to go get this nasty, greasy car engine he bought off someone he doesn't even know. I digress. The fact is, it would have rocked back and forth in the bed, denting the sides and the bottom, slinging grease everywhere. I love my truck. I keep my truck clean. I wash, vacuum, and wax my truck, including the bed. Why do I do this to a truck you might ask? Because I have never had anything as nice as this truck. I have been dirt poor on welfare most of my life, and now I have a nice truck. Is it a crime to wish to keep it that way? He tears all his stuff up, and then borrows mine. He has five vehicles, all of them not running. The way he �asks� me for my truck just kills me. He will say, �Hey, leave me a set of keys to the truck before you leave.� Okay, several things are wrong here. One, he never actually asks to borrow my truck. Second, he always refers to it as �the� truck, never �your� truck. If I say too much I get in trouble from the women for making him feel bad. Geesh.

I know, I am whining. I'll move along now.

Tonight little Savannah crawled up my legs until I picked her up, whereupon she firmly planted a kiss on my cheek. I melted. Her eyes are like mine, as in they change colors. Last week they were as green as emeralds. Tonight they are piercing blue. She is absolutely adorable.

It dawns on me that I never made an entry about our vacation. I guess I should do that, in that it was the experience that it was. What idiot, other than me, would attempt a tenting vacation with a 70 year old, a one year old, two overweight wheezing adults and an over exited eight year old. but me? Yes, I should make an entire entry about just that.

I've ordered new glasses in an attempt to find the root cause of these terrible headaches. I am truly afraid I am damaging my liver with the amounts of Tylenol I am consuming. I've a bad feeling about this, and I really don't think I'll think about it.

I heard some guys doing the coffee pot thing the other day. They were talking about their wives. Badly. They were complaining about them buying shoes and clothes that they perceived as unnecessary. �Oh they just buy for the sake of buying!� one was saying. �It's like a drug with them you know.� the other was saying. I stood there for a bit and listened to this garbage and finally took all I could stand. �Bill?� I began, �You just bought a eight thousand dollar John Deere tractor didn't you?� �yeah, I did. What's the point?� he asked. �The point is this,� I explained, �I've seen your yard Bill, and it's not much bigger than a postage stamp. You didn't need all that tractor at all.� Nedless to say the coffee pot crew dissasembled. Men are no better I tell you! I buy tools that I actually stand in the store isle until I justify a reason to �need� this new tool. I am a tool nut! I have tools I have never used, and may never use them at all! I love them though! Oh my God I love tools! I love to strand in the Sears tool section and run my fingers across their fully polished professional handles. I oogle and drool at the newest style spanners or the posi-grip drivers. I love tools!

I think this old body of mine is starting to show the wear and abuse it has received over the years. I do believe there is some slight arthritis beginning to show up in my hands. Last week I needed to change out the fuel filter in my truck. It took me over fifteen minutes to do so. Not because I didn�t know how, or had the right tools, because I did. It was because my hands wouldn�t cooperate with what I was telling them to do. I hate getting old. Did I mention yet I have to get bifocals now? My arms aren�t long enough to read the vitamin bottles anymore.

My wife recently asked why I persist in bringing home chicken breasts when in fact we both know I really like the darker meat better. I had to really think about this before it dawned on me why. When my brother and I were still living at our grandfather�s house, we weren�t allowed to eat with them. When they were through, we were then allowed into the �Big House� as we called it. We lived in a small addition without benefit of a bathroom. For the most part, we simply weren�t allowed in the rest of the house. We even had to wash our clothes in my grandfather�s shop using homemade lye soap. I digress again.

Sometimes my mother would fry chicken. When we were allowed into the house to eat supper there would never be any breasts, only the legs, thighs, wings and back would remain. My grandparents ate the breasts. I was away from home and eating at a restaurant before I ever had a chicken breast. Anyway, I guess I developed this stigma about the cut of meats and things. Thus the reason I always buy breast meat, while the darker meat really tastes better to me. This is why both my brother and I have eating disorders.

To this day the sight of a Sprite soda makes me angry. This same grandfather had a hasp and padlock on his refrigerator to keep us out. I knew that there were cool things to eat and drink in there. If we had been really �good� and worked our butts off that day from literally sunup to night, he would give us a six ounce Sprite to share. This is the same man that beat me with a bull whip and tied my little brother up with a dog chain and dog collar. I still hold resentment for that man. I wish I could just let it go. He did other things that I just don�t even want to go into. He allowed even worse. He is dead now. That doesn�t bother me. I didn�t go to the funeral, and my brother danced on his grave. I would have done worse.

Have you heard this guy on the radio touting this pill to help you loose weight? �I lost weight fatso, you can too!� Have you heard this guy? I hate that guy! Want to hear something stupid? I bought the supplement! I am so lame at times.

I participate in the where�s George project. It�s where you enter the serial number of your one�s or other bills at this site (www.wheresgeorge.com), and mark them either by hand or a special stamp. I have been doing this for several months. I haven�t had even one hit. Other people have had hundreds of hits! I am such a loser. Okay well I feel like it at times.

My computer is having serious issues. I have all the parts and stuff to build a really cool super fast 3.2 GHz computer but I just haven�t done so yet. This one is starting to stutter. Yesterday It ate a disk! I need badly to build the new machine. Maybe I should go to that lady�s site, www.iamsolazy.com.

I am very thankful that all my Florida friends are okay. Charlie was a bad boy indeed! A big hug to all my Floridian buddies!

I have work to do, and now my coffee is all gone. I will bid y�all adieu until a later time that I might be more coherent and understandable. This babble isn�t my normal forte, but it�s good to delve into different thoughts periodically I suppose.

Have a great day Diaryland! Until we meet again�

*hugs y�all!*