~Nothing But The Truth~

In the last few days I have realized that you are talking to me quite a bit about Colorado, or Wyoming or Oklahoma.

I have also realized that you are at a man camp with other men who are looking at loss of wells and talking about what that holds for their future--

And I know that stewing men are worse then a gaggle of hens, I have come to understand that you are either sitting in the house stewing with the men, or out in the parking lot talking to me on the phone.  I would imagine that the sound of my melodious voice is a pleasant distraction and that when you hear me, you probably want to talk about something other than the number of loads and what it means for our future.

Having realized that my last post about Colorado is a little whiney and putting more pressure onto your already pressurized existence, I was going to delete it.

But then I realized that you don't read these anyway, it may be years before you come here.  You may never come here.  But if you do, at some time in the future, find this and read it--then it is just fine that I leave the thoughts that I was having on any particular day right where I wrote them.  Things have changed from last year, I suspect things will continue to change, this can be the record.

Today is also the day after I lied to you about the money I spent at Maverick.  When you asked what I purchased, I said "Gas" reflexively.  I lied before I thought about telling the truth.  I actually let the lie stand, I even told the kids, "If Daddio asks, we bought gas--not beer and pop".

After pulling the kids into my web of lies, I realized it was such a stupid lie, and I really don't want to get into the habit of lying to you about stupid shit, especially if I have to find a patsy to cover my story.  (Shortly after pulling the kids in, I texted you and spilled the beans about my beer and my knowledge that I was going to overdraw the account when I bought it.  Then I apologized to the kids for asking them to lie to their dad, because they should always tell you and I the truth, even when it looks bad.)

Once I get into the habit of telling little lies, then it becomes easier to tell them more often, and perhaps make them inflated.  Such as when I tell my mother I have to get off the phone because Martin is calling on the other phone.  Or when I tell you that I bought all the kids a new pair of shoes, and I conveniently forget to tell you that I also got myself a couple of cute pairs of kicks.

I am probably still going to lie about important things, like when you ask me how my day is going and I say, "Really good!" or when you ask me what I am wearing and I reply, "G-string and pasties, the usual."

But I will make an effort to more more honest about how I am throwing your cash around.  Hell, I can even be a bit more responsible and decide that not overdrawing the account is more important than a beer and a couple kid beverages.