Sometimes I have words, sometimes I don’t. But I know that by writing it, I’m much more likely to get it right than if I try to say it with my mouth. I usually have an idea of what I want to talk about before I sit down to write. Sometimes I have to look at writing prompts to kick-start my motor. Since I’m not getting out a whole lot, I’m limited on subjects. Y’all can only read so much about my dog. One of my favorite columnists could benefit from this notion. I sometimes think if I have to read one more article about baseball or his dead daddy (who’s been gone way longer than he was ever here) I’m gonna send him a list of other stuff to write about. Just when I can’t take any more, he’ll pop off one about pound cake or some old lady eating alone at Cracker Barrel or something, and I’m good for another month or so. Anyway….yesterday I wrote about the herbicide thing. Well, really it was about women needing to pull themselves up by their flip-flop straps and believe in themselves what needs to be done, can be done. BY THEM. Sure, it’s nice to have a man around for the gunky parts of life, like plumbing, or the parts you just don’…
