Sunday, June 8, 2008
Sucks In The City
It's hot here, y'all. Hotter than hot! hot! hot! Brangelina sex and you know that is some hot sex.
Because I have four dogs whom I have never trained very well, I choose to leave the air conditioner off during the day so I don't have to spend my entire waking hours opening the door for them to go in and out at their will. If the door is closed for the AC, they will scratch at it until it's a mere scraped-out thing instead of the one-hundred-and-fifty year old door it is, so I just do without artificial cooling during the days and leave the damn door open.
This means that the outside here is always part of the inside, including the occasional bird who flies in through the porch dog door. I am constantly finding bird poop in unexpected places like on the newel post or on the floor in the library.
But I like it like that. I have realized lately that for me, sanity lies in being where I can see what's going on outside and being outside as much as possible. I've spent a lot of time in the yard this weekend, planting some blueberry bushes and watering and weeding. I also went blackberry picking with daughter Lily, which was a bit premature in that they aren't really ripe, but we got enough for this morning's pancakes, which we ate outside under the Bradford pears.
Anyway, all of this is hot work. And for some reason, I don't mind that. I move slowly, I get whatever done that gets done and then when evening comes, we turn on the AC and shut the doors and try to convince the dogs to leave the damn door alone.
Twice this weekend, though, I went out. I ventured beyond the village limits on Friday night to go see Sex In The City and as God is my witness, I will never go to another Friday night movie in my life unless one of my books is made into a movie and there is a premier that I must attend.
And a red carpet better be involved.
I won't go into the many, many reasons that the movie going was such a painful experience but I will say this- it wasn't worth putting a bra on for. Between the unruly crowds and the fact that you have to watch TV commercials before a movie starts these days (when did THAT happen?) and the fact that the movie really wasn't that good, it was just not worth the effort. There were hardly even any movie star bosoms.
And then last night I went to a gathering of people whom I really like to the point of adoration and yet, I found myself so uncomfortable, being inside a very lovely home and chatting with a plate of yummy food on my lap that I almost wept with joy when the woman I'd come with said, "You ready to go?"
Oh yes. Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes.
I'd already been accused, in a humorous way, of being loaded when in fact, I'd had one beer. My behavior was a bit strange, I admit, but it was only through nervousness, not drunkenness.
The sad fact these days is that you can dress me up but you cannot take me out.
Don't even try it.
So my friend and I made our good-byes and everyone had to make a big deal about us leaving. The party really had sort of just begun, but we gathered our bowls and purses and took our leave and one man said, "You're going to be halfway home and wish you'd stayed!"
Ha, I thought. I'm just leaving and wish I was halfway home.
I took my friend to her house and when we got there, which is in a woodsy area, with its beautiful flowers and trees and vegetables and chickens and dogs and cats, I looked around and said, "Wow. Why wouldn't anyone rather be here than inside some place making polite conversation?"
And she knew exactly what I meant.
I drove the long way home through fields and woods and the sun was setting and when I got home I said to my husband, "Please don't make me go out again. Ever."
He laughed, but I was serious.
I took off the dreaded bra and put on my linen overalls and went outside to water my blueberries. An owl landed a few feet from me and scooped some unfortunate creature up and took him into a tree to leisurely enjoy while the night crickets and frogs started their singing and fiddling, their every-night jubilee. A white magnolia blossom, cupped and folded for the night gleamed in the twilight and I pulled it down to breathe in its holy fragrance as the night came in fully.
I looked back up at my house, its white walls rising in the darkness, light spilling from the windows, and I thought, no, really, why would I leave?
And of course, I did go to Publix today and that was fine but it's just been such a joy to work in the yard, hang the clothes outside, pick some peas from the garden, make a bean salad and herb bread for our supper of grilled eggplant sandwiches.
It's hot, y'all, but I have porches. I've sat on two of them so far today; I'm sitting on one of them right now. And perhaps my husband and I will go sit on the third in a little while. I can hear the birds, some traffic, a goat wailing from next door. The donkey starts his sequence of hee-haws. Thunder is rumbling off in the distance, although from where I sit I can't even see a cloud.
I have an entire Sunday New York Times to read, we're going to eat the veggie porn eggplant on my home-made bread soon, I am not wearing a bra, and if a magic genie appeared right this second and said, "I'll take you anywhere in the entire world you want to go," I'd have to say, "Thank you kindly, sir, but I'm fine right here."
Yes sir. I am fine. Right here.