"And so" said Buford "I just got me a pick-em up truck"

Yesterday we discussed Melissa's crappy day. I mentioned that I,too, had had a much less than desirable day. I know, you are thinking "what exactly does that have to do with Buford (whoever he is) and pick-ups. Buford is Buford T. Honeygutt, one of the many characters that I have created for my unwritten novel. Buford is the sheriff or deputy sheriff in a small southern town. No, do not think Andy of Mayberry or Barney Fife. Buford is seriously southern and big.

But be that as it may, yesterday started OK, but quickly went down hill with a staff member showing up in the office to quit. Now, this person probably needed to not have this position because it was too challenging for her but I was trying to help her grow into it. Little did I know she was more likely to do the "Miss Scarlet, Miss Scarlet, I don't know nothin' bout birthing babies" after talking a good game. This threw a lot of planning into chaos, meant we would have to close a program down, and brought on an emergency meeting which I really had no time for.

Then, the grants officer at the school system, emailed that the school had decided that it was too much trouble to apply for a federal grant (some major money) and didn't want to be fiscal agent. Well crap. I informed my director of education programs whom the staff and I not so fondly call Brother. Now, I raised this man from a pup. CD knows him and they were both my students. By telling him this bad news, I was basically telling him that the programs I was directly responsible for would continue to be under funded, a worry he does not have. His response was to explain the point system on the grant to me. No, "well damn." No, "well that sucks." No. I got informed. By someone much younger and much less experienced. Sigh.

I went to the post office. Double crap. A certified letter from the US Treasury. Don't you just wait for days like this. That's when I ran into Melissa and her crappy day.

So, where does the pick-up come into this. Shopping therapy. My yard man Giovanni had a truck for sale. We need a truck to haul food to give out at the fire house on Mondays and Fridays. I got Bobby,the husband of a my friend Kathy, who's a great guy and works on cars as a side line, to come with me. This a 1981 Dodge with new engine which is seriously large and transmission which is automatic. This is important since I'm the only one that can drive a stick shift. Giovanni had already dropped the price from from $2000 to $1200 seeing as how it was for me and stuff. So, it was half sold before we ever got there. Then the check engine light came on in my car--a gold Solara Convertible named Petunia. Well, double damn. That truck was as good as sold. There is only so much negative energy a woman can stand before she has to taken things into her own hands. So as Buford said, "I got me a pick-em up truck." Bobby approved. Shopping therapy.