Sweet Morning Wherein Everyone Is Fed

Ms. Jessie ended up spending the night last night after attending the performance. And by the way, no one was injured in that one. No broken feet or fingers and the cabbage flew like coleslaw as we beat the heads with our sticks and we added silly bits all through the thing that we came up with in the most impromptu manner and I do think the audience enjoyed it. They appeared to be a drinking crowd, which is always the best crowd to play for.

Anyway, we got home late and I slept crazy late, having dreams that were silly and slightly disturbing with absolutely no need to put a call in to Dr. Freud to figure out (I needed a new wallet badly- mine had busted through everywhere and all the money was falling out) although Jessie, who is a good and virtuous soul, got up early to study. This is how I found her this morning:

She'd already fed the cats so I fed the dogs and then the chickens and then us. I made pancakes with wheat and flax and leftover smoothie and Greek yogurt and two very fresh eggs and blueberries and bananas and pecans.



When I set the table for us, I put the honey down and before one second had elapsed, there was a bee on it, licking the stickiness off the side of the bottle:


Now how did that happen? I took his picture and then picked up the honey and took it outside and flicked him free into the pretty fall day.

"Harrumph!" he probably said, flying off to find less-easy nectar in the firespike, the marigolds, the zinnias, the loquat blossoms.

It's Sunday at the Church Of The Batshit Crazy. We lick the honey off our fingers, the bee licks the honey off his legs, the dog licks the pan the sausage was cooked in and I'm licking the sweetness off the day.