Last summer I was driving people up and down Shoal Creek in an old school bus, pulling a trailer full of float tubes behind. Business was booming, we were short-handed, so I got the bright idea to get Steph's grandson on-board. He was a buff kid, broke and in need of a job, so he came down and worked an afternoon for us. I told him we really needed him the next morning by 1000 but he had some over-nighter with his buddies going on, and never made it the next day. The job fell apart at that point and I ended up the villain with the family, and they cut me off. I have not seen those two little girls that I was falling in love with, since.

A while ago I drove to Pensacola to meet another grand-daughter and I was on my way down there again for a few fun days, when my poor sweet cat pissed and shit on my parade. I didn't make it and as punishment, I have been cut off.

It's becoming a pattern that I am not happy with. But, I have to face reality, it is what it is, and I am a realist. I also don't have that much time left and I despise self-pity wallowing, so all I can do now is say "Fuck It" and see what comes down the old highway of life next.

Staying on this dead-end street for no damn good reason, ain't high on the list...