Don't Go Looking For A Theme Because There Is No Theme Here

Owen is coming today. I forget what time. I have this problem where whenever Lily says, "I will bring Owen at...." my mind completely shuts down at that part. I will bring Owen.
Done, my mind says. Owen is coming. Who cares what time? And yet, on a practical level, it IS good to know.

I wrote yesterday about wanting a backpack carrier for the boy. I do love the sling but the backpack frees up your hands better for things like washing dishes, and let's face it- the backpack distributes the weight of the child in a more even way on your body.
I had something in mind like this:

which is quite similar to what I used with my four children.
Simple. Light. Easy to use. Etc.

But when I woke up from a short nap yesterday afternoon after taking Owen back to his parents (Owen!) I found this on my back porch:

(Note: The elephant was not in the backpack, I just put it there for fun.)

I looked at that thing and I was talking to Billy on the phone and I was already cracking up because Billy can make me laugh so hard (and he could make you laugh so hard, too, believe me; no one is as funny as our Billy) and I just started laughing even harder.

Now I know that Ms. Petit Fleur, who lives next door to me, brought that backpack over and left it for me. Because she is sweet like that. Oh? Mary needs a backpack? I have one. I shall take it to her.

"Lord, Billy," I said on the phone, "You could give this to a Sherpa to carry a child across the Himalayas in!" And you could. And have enough pockets and compartments to carry a few sleeping bags, a tent or two, and perhaps a small goat to eat on the journey. It has at least fifteen belts and straps and hooks. And...oh, I have no idea what all that strappage and beltage and compartmentage is for. There is definitely a place for a water bottle. Or a wine bottle. Or a vodka bottle. I don't know. And there's a thing you can attach for sun-protection, too.

I mean, this thing is the SHIT! It is the fo' shizzle my nizzle! (Sorry. I just love that phrase although I realize when I use it, Snoop Dogg is probably receiving piercing pains in his gut and wondering who put what in his ganja.)

But sadly, I think it is far more than Owen and I need to use for chicken-feeding and dish-washing.

I love you, Ms. Fleur, for thinking of me and I shall return it and bring you some soup. It is just way more than this old non-Sherpa of a grandmother needs.

Yesterday Owen and I took a stroll down Main Street in Lloyd and yes, we do have a Main Street. It is paved, too. I love Main Street. There are many sites to see and I got to introduce Owen to one of the ladies who lives on that street whom I often chat with on my walks as she, too, has the Old Southern Lady Yard Work gene and is usually outside doing something in her yard when I walk by. I just love this lady. She's a grandmother too and we have often discussed the joys of that elevated statehood of being. She admired Owen and called his little teeth his "pegs". And he flirted shamelessly with her, flashing those pegs and ducking his chin the way he does. I love that Owen gets to spend time here in Lloyd where people will know him. People like Ms. Liola whom we saw yesterday and also Ms. Joanne and Ms. Martha at the post office and let's not forget the man who walks in the neighborhood too, the man who only has one leg but who is determined and a fine walker. Lloyd is colorful, to say the least, and I feel so blessed to live in such a place and so blessed to have Owen get to know it too, the people and the old houses and the flowers and trees and chickens and goats.

It gets funky sometimes, though.

Two nights ago I heard shots from my next-door neighbor's house (not the Fleur house, the one on the other side of me) and the next morning there was a dead and bloodied possum in their chicken coop and (Bethany- stop reading!) the chickens were chowin' down on the baby possums the mama had been carrying as she went about her egg-stealing midnight mission.
Yes. Sad.
Cruel, even.
But that's life in the country when you keep animals. They've shot and killed coyotes over there too. They have the chickens and goats and guinea hens and a turkey and several donkeys and I have no idea what all. That place is a predator magnet! It's also one of Owen's favorite places to go and visit. We don't visit the people who live there, just the animals. The people are actually as entertaining and curious to us as the animals are but we like just being observers and not having to actually, you know, talk to anyone.

And speaking of cruel (and we were, right?) I give you this nice shot of Elvis's Talons of Terror:

You can also see his incredibly soft-looking fuzzy butt. Don't tell me you don't want to pat that fuzzy butt! I know you do!

Well, I guess I've wandered and rambled enough here. I've got things to do because Owen (!) is coming over and I think that'll be pretty soon. I'm not SURE, but I think.

And I'd like to thank Ms. Fleur one more time because she is so precious and so giving and so generous. And because her backpack made me laugh so much.

Anyone know a Sherpa who needs to transport a child across the Himalayas? Because if you do, Ms. Fleur has just the thing you need. And she will probably lend it to you.

Love from Lloyd....Ms. Moon