I’ve been in a “Blah” mood lately.
I can’t seem to get out of it. It’ll pass, though. It has to.
I decide to take a drive.
On my drive, I pass by a small farm.
A Husband and Wife team are hard at work on the farm.
Daily, I see them out there mending the fence, moving bails of hay on the tractor, or working with the cattle.
—I wave as I drive by.
I think back to the Farms that covered the land when I lived in Virginia—Farms as far as the eye could see.
I learned to drive on the country roads of Virginia at the Ripe Old Age of Fourteen or Fifteen. It was in a beat-up ’70s blue van.
I’d swear that van was in a bunch of ’70s cop shows trying to outrun the cops.
That’s a story for another day, though.
I pass another field. This field has horses.
Memories of Horse Drawn Buggies driven by Mennonites come to mind—Good Memories.
Again, a story for another day.
I get to the Highway. It’s a little after 6 AM, and the Highway is busy with people heading into work. I think back on my last Job. Actually, I don’t think of it as a “Job”—it was my career—and I miss it.
I once accidentally went to work dressed in my work clothes and fuzzy house slippers. But, that, too, is a story for another day.
I turn on the radio and decide to get breakfast.
I tune to XM Channel 148—Radio Classics.
At the local Fast Food Joint, I order my usual.
“That’ll be six dollars and 30 cents. Pull to the window, please.”
I pull up to the window.
“The car ahead of you paid for yours.”
—This happens a lot. I’ve written about it.
“I’ll pay it forward then and get the car behind me.”
“Are you sure?” She asks. “It’ll be Fifteen Dollars and Thirty-Six Cents.”
“Ouch,” I say back.
I pay the bill and leave.
I get home, sit down and type out a story about a memory that came to me on my drive.
I’m not ready to post it yet.
So, Unfortunately, it’s a story for another day.
That’s all for now.