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"you do know that, right?" Beth asked me, while in a Y-turn out of the farmer's driveway.  "You are a farm girl, you know that the catalytic converter could start this on fire again?"

I am not a farm girl but I did not try very hard to fight that image in Beth's head.  She knew very little about where I was from, other than that Oregon and Wisconsin share a federal government, have football teams and that my home state is quite cheeeeeeeeesey, and that my being overweight could have been prevented if I grew up in Oregon.  Because reasons.  

We were visiting farmers suffering from the drought.  These farmers agreed to push back their harvest for a F*** commercial.  In the world of numbers, the farmers would make the same amount of money no matter if harvest happened last week or next.  But, they did not know that they were agreeing to putting off harvest until the day their farms would go up in flame, soot, smoke.

----

cold cockd

sometimes - give permission to those you care for to get the fuck out of the samehand situation you share - sometimes tell people they can do what you are afraid you can't but of course you can - you are all-powerful, you are not just whims and worry.  you are the lantern and the lion and you have the choice to get yourself to where your kids are.  or, where they aren't.

the needs of fancy are only easily wrought,  BE G M E 
BEGI M E
GERM GNE 

KOLL
COT COXCOMB a selfsame, you don't have to be all you want to be in one year.  
give yourself the Pause and the pickling.  Kiss yourself.  put off the mastering of the egg drop soup technique
(or the ability to cout d'etat your family tree)