Tuesday, August 7, 2007


The past two days we have stayed inside because of the heat, well, except to have meetings with the DOT people and contractors about the road situation. Now, the county has had DOT build huge "planters" that look like interstate walls, and wouldn't you know it, one of the six is right here at us. Now we can't see to turn out of our driveway without subjecting ourselves to grave danger. This all started Friday. DOT is suppose to be making us a driveway from our present drive over to the street just past where we live. As of this afternoon they don't have the gravel down. We have informed them we are not going to drive through all that dust, or mud, if and when it rains. We have involved the county's transportation department. They are being very attentive to our concerns. The gentleman sees the safety issues and liability issues as well. We have learned that lots of other people are real unhappy with the "walls" up and down the road. Will this ever pass. The project is already a year behind schedule. We are looking at the middle of 2008 before completion.

Today I have finally typed all of the Hubby's stories he has written about his childhood. They are a hoot. I thought I would share one of the short ones. After finishing he was sharing another "event" that I've never heard before. I was laughing like crazy when he was telling me the story. He's promised to put this one on paper as well.


We had an old 1946 Chevrolet Coupe that looked really bad.

My Dad wanted to have it painted before we went on vacation to Panama City, Florida, but didn't have the money. My Mom had an idea. So she ordered two gallons of pain from Sears. One gallon of beige and one gallon of powder blue. She and my brother, Denny, painted that car while Daddy was at work. It looked like it had been painted with pine tops.

You should have seen the expression on my Dad's face when he saw that car, let alone the words that came out of his mouth. Words that I could never repeat to this day. After circling that car for a couple of hours he finally came in the house and said, "you know, it does look somewhat better." He fell asleep in his favorite easy chair with the newspaper in his lap after he had killed a six-pack of beer before ten o'clock that evening.

We never heard another word about our fiasco point job.

This incident occurred in the early 1950's so Hubby would have been about seven or eight years old and his brother would have been about 14 or 15. I'm not telling his Mom's age.

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