On the Rockin' G Ranch

Finishing off notes in library; new tree at entrance.

Notes go to sermon, sermon went to Mothers Day.

"Mother was very busy."
So it was determined in church the other day.

Pastor preached on, "Mammas, don't let your babies
grow up to be ____." Fill in the blank, son. Be creative!

First thing was "idiots" then "brats" then "snots" then . . .
don't be silly. The pastor suggested "faithless."

OK. But Mother was very busy.
Wranglin'. Cookin'. Cleanin'. Merchandisin'.
Show biz. Clothes horse showdowns. "Zip me up."
I got equipped otherwise, to be sure.

As the pastor spoke, I thought of how churches had become museums, theaters, restaurants, coffee houses - night clubs even. Still all fixed assets, the fixtures probably liquidated and used, well, otherwise. But North Phoenix, struggling, should be vital for a while.

I sure haven't a thing against cowboys.

Don't like it when people put down others as "cowboys."
(We're talkin' when push comes to shove, and all that.)
No, ma'am. "Don't cross me." On the level.

So, thanks for all the work, Mom;

Lefty says to thank the nuns too.

The Feds say, "Careful there, old musket."