Can anyone tell me where DUST comes from? Is it just the residual effect of LIFE in general -- the sum total of the sloughed off discarded particles of a million life forms (EEEWWWWW...THAT’S a creepy thought)? Should not all things that are, have some sort of reason for being...some PURPOSE, some GOAL for its existence to fulfill? Does dust serve any purpose whatsoever under heaven?! Could it be that the perpetual ANNOYANCE of every housekeeper is reason enough?

One of my deepest darker fears is that I will choke to death in my sleep upon the overabundance of dust/feathers/dander/andgodknowswhatelse that knows no remedy in my end of the house (or my mom’s for that matter...and she DOESN’T have a dozen critters to blame).

I FINALLY got my farrier here today to trim my mares’ hooves. For a myriad of reasons, it had been far too long since their last trim. The little fat appy mare’s feet had begun to spread out like dinner plates, while missy prissy’s front frogs had all but disappeared in the caverns of her high heels. The dogs love it when the farrier comes...they love to gnaw on and eventually ingest the hoof trimmings...scrumptious protein I suppose. They love hoof trimmings almost as much as they relish horse manure (what could THAT be compared to...preprocessed SALAD?!).

The farrier’s visit was followed by a compulsive attack upon the shrubbery. I’d started out with only the intent to trim back the shrubs near my hay storage, but found myself falling victim to my obsessive-compulsive tendencies and trimming not only ALL the overgrown shrubs near the house, but also those along the barnyard fence and then on to the roadside. I’d been madly trimming for over an hour before I realized that I felt like crap. Perhaps I’d better get the weekly trip to the grocery store over with before I collapsed in a heap of DUST in my den.

Rain’s on the way the Weather Channel says. I’m settled in now with a movie and a warm blanket, hoping against hope that this overwhelming achiness is due to my attack upon the shrubbery and not a virus seeking a home for a few days. We’re watching Radio -- it’s been on for less that 15 mins and I’m already crying. It’s entertaining though, to hear folk from other parts of the country try to imitate the classic Southern drawl. Many an accent can be skillfully reproduced by talented actors/actresses, but I can’t recall ever hearing a really accurate reproduction of the true Southern dialect by an actor for whom it didn’t come natural.

The weekend is almost over and a good time has been had by all. A welcome change from weekends prior.