Dad always said, "Poor people got poor ways." He meant that those lacking financial means to do things normally figgered out ways to get by otherwise (or did without).
I say all that to say this: I treasure weekends on the Tin Star Ranch. It is my Eden of peace and serenity that no other balm can provide. My soul longs for the time that I can abide there at the length and breadth of my choosing with never ending tranquility, and no thought of pending responsibility.
Such is not quite yet so. My sense of sound fiscal management and provision for future plans suggests that I continue in gainful employment for a bit more.
Alas, the morn is Monday and the ranch hand's sorry butt will rise at 5A and trudge with heavy heart to the distant city to toil at the J-O-B with the forlorn acceptance of a rented mule?
What the hell, "Poor people got poor ways?"
Plain and simple ramblin' from an ole country boy concerning personal history, current family events, the Tin Star Ranch, and philosophical BS with no redeeming social value implied or intended.
Tin Star Ranch Hand
The Ole Fat Boy
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About Me
- TSRH
- I take country pride in being my parent's son, a grandpa, dad, husband, brother, uncle, nephew, christian, professor, patriot, special texas ranger, tractor jockey, woodworker, welder,shootist, bird house architect, low relief wood carver, counted cross stitcher, UT fan, meat burner, humorist, video poker devotee, raconteur, 8mm film star and all around BS artist.
1 comment:
Good post. It reflection of what many of us face.
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