He's a very nice man and is on his way down to do something about it and they have Bible Study tonight anyway and maybe the battery finally drained because it's quit honking, thank you sweet baby Jesus, because my dogs were going crazy and I couldn't think straight.
Not that I ever really do but you know what I mean.
I bet I've walked at least ten miles today. Three on my walk and the other seven in this house. Y'all, I have swept up half a bushel of dirt and leaves and dog hair and I have mopped and I have done laundry and put it all away and washed rugs and am cooking beans and I believe I may have made a type of bread never made before on this planet because it is made of leftover Thanksgiving sweet potatoes, steel-cut oatmeal, leftover angel biscuit dough, and whole- and white-wheat flours.
And I have enjoyed every minute of all of it because I've been listening to books on CD and sometimes you get a book out of the library to listen to and it's not that great and sometimes you get a book that is terrific and I finished up one terrific one today and started listening to another so I feel like I won the damn lottery.
The one I finished listening to today was this one:
Now Ms. Jackson is not the most literary of authors but she can spin a good yarn and she reads her own book and she is southern and has the perfect voice for her work and I just enjoyed the hell out of it. Yes. Highly recommend, especially the audio version.
The one I started after I finished that one is this:
And Mr. Chabon also reads his own work and by golly, there's just not much that tickles me like listening to a good book read by the author. I mean, there are some very, very fine book narrators out there but the author knows exactly what he or she meant by the words written on the page and to my mind that makes for the very best narration of all. These are essays by Chabon and they are fine. Very fine. Two such different books and yet both so pleasurable to listen to.
So. There was that.
I got depressed this morning because when I went to let the chickens out, Miss Ozzie was not among them. Miss Ozzie is the hen I took a picture of the other day, sitting in that pot and she is one of my favorite hens. She is bold as brass and will snatch a sandwich out of your hand and I was so sorry to think she might have been snatched. But later on, after I got back from my walk, I discovered that she had rejoined the flock and I found this in the pot she was trying to shove her butt into when I took that picture. I guess she finally figured it out.
One of her nice green, funny-shaped eggs. So my theory is that she was laying that egg when I closed the henhouse last night and didn't make it back for bed. I have no idea where she slept but she survived. It occurs to me that all my hens could be laying in secret spots all over the yard and I wouldn't know it. Remember how wily Baby was with her egg-laying?
Anyway, all's well that ends well and Ozzie is alive and I made sure to do a headcount tonight when I shut them up and they're all there.
Lily just sent me some pictures of the boys. They're down south of here with their daddy, visiting with his grandparents. It is so brave of Jason to take the boys off on his own.
They look like they're having a good time, though.
Lily, of course, is feeling all kinds of emotions, having them go off without her. She'll live. But I know it's hard for her. They won't be gone that long.
So that's been the day here. The alarm horn is no longer splitting the peace and Mr. Moon is home and all my hens are safe and it's time to go bake the bread and make a salad.
One more thing- this morning when I was in the Post Office, there was a woman leaning over the counter talking to the Post Mistress and she was obviously freshly showered and dressed in a nice top and a pair of sporty white shorts and those shorts were ripped all down the back seam, revealing some nice lace panties. You know what? I did not say a word to her, but just opened my mail box and found it empty and went on out and I regret that. I should have said something but for some reason, I was just too embarrassed. Isn't that ridiculous and silly? What am I? An eleven-year old boy?
Would you have told her?
"Lady, your pants are split and I can see your underwear."
I know I would have wanted someone to tell me. I don't know what was wrong with me.
At least she was wearing underwear.
Well, that's enough of that.
And another alarm just started going off. I am not kidding you.
Okay. It stopped.
Could be a crazy night.