Well

I put a dent in the front corner of the truck. That does not equal a good day. It equals a bad day.

You have to push buttons on this little panel on a little post to make the gate open. I make a circle round to line up right to exit the park. My circle I guess was no good. Hit the post thingie. I could hear the scrape of metal on metal for five inches in slow motion like nails across a chalkboard. The post thingie bent a little then, boing, went back into place. It's been hit a few times all right! Turned on the water works when I told my husband. I couldn't help it! I'm going to see if I can get an estimate for repairs while we're here. Whattya think? Between $1500 to $1800 for a five inch dent? Probably. Bodywork costs are lame. Ugh. Luckily, after he yelled a little he said it's only a truck. He said if we couldn't drive it he'd be upset, but for a dent? He's not upset. I sure love him. I'm really sorry I'm responsible for the worst dent on the whole vehicle though. He babies the truck.

We're going to Tetons and Yellowstone after all. That's the latest plan made after dinner tonight. Methinks I do not like plan making. I am not a proponent of trip planning. Rather, one must go and do what one can go and do when one can go and do it. When we are there, I'll say we're there. That works much better to me!

I've been researching music a bit. Did you know that "She Bop" by sweet, funny, entertaining, Cyndi Lauper was written about m*st*rb*t**n. I never knew. It saddens me. I don't think it's funny or cute that she did that. See songfacts for reference.

I took my nitro radio station off my bookmarks. I looked up lyrics to songs I wanted to download and realized they're chock full and overflowing with biblical references...and blasphemy. I listened to it for years and years, unaware. Or maybe aware, but ignoring. Or maybe subconsciously aware, and embracing.

Once I was in a session with a psychologist. I told her I heard someone call my name sometimes, but no one was there. She put me under hypnosis, but I remember. And she said, "Do the voices sound like this?" And I told her no. I think she had knowledge of the occult. I am glad I never heard voices like the sounds she made. I did not like it and that's why I remember it. I told my dad I didn't want to go anymore and he let me stop. I never had to go back again. My dad, he does have good judgment in big decisions.

Secular music is far worse than it was 20 years ago. Where is it coming from. Where is it going. Subliminal. Pervasive. Invasive. Who of us can afford to remain impassive?