It's chilly this morning and I've turned on the heater and I got up at seven o'clock because we went to bed around nine o'clock and I'm pretty screwed up, time-wise, but it's working for me.
I struggled out of my covers cave and took my emotional temperature because isn't that what we all do? My agitato numbers were high and they still are and sitting here drinking coffee probably isn't going to help. How can I go to bed in one mood and wake up in a completely different one?
Anyway, I need to get busy. It's going to be a full week and I may as well get started on it. Billy's bringing MawMaw out for a little visit and that will be nice but I want to tidy up a little before they get here. I have some soup thawing that I made and froze last week and the bread I made last night that will do for our lunch. Billy texted me last night and asked if the soup had meat in it.
I wrote him back and said, "Yes. Deer meat and plenty of it."
"Awesome," is the text I got back.
Billy may work at the hippy food co-op but he still likes meat. I wonder if he'll notice the lentils too.
Anyway, good morning. Agitato (and that word comes from one of Kinky Friedman's books and I like it because it is so perfectly apt at times) comes and agitato goes and I need to learn not to pay so much attention to it and to give it less weight in my life. What will be will be, etc. Que sera, sera. Blah blah blah, blah blah.
Time to take the trash, time to make the bed, time to hang the camo hunting garments on the line. The sunlight is shooting daggers at the earth through the Spanish moss and Elvis is trying to coax the hens into the coop. I am wearing what are probably a dead man's Levi's and if I were Bruce Springsteen, I could write a song about that but I am not Bruce Springsteen and I am also wearing new socks so there you go.
Good morning, good morning. Let's be all mindful and shit and let's get this party started as Owen says at times, mostly when he turns on the CD player to blast out the Rolling Stones and runs up and down the hallway and does a few break-dance moves and summersaults and Gibson croons Baybee in his gravelly singing voice and bounces his baby butt up and down and grins at the joy of it all.
Yeah. Like that.
Start me up.