Like Honey

There is a bird who sings a song here which has lyrics. They are this:
You're sweet, you're sweet, you're sweet.
He is singing this song this morning and I think he must be singing it to the day because it is a most beautiful one, this day, filled with sunlight and crisp air and everything which appears dead and brown, if inspected carefully, shows signs of impending bursting.
And of course there are the camellias, already burst, and they are sweet, they are sweet, they are sweet.

We finished up the play last night and that was sweet too. Bitter-sweet but sweet. It went well, it went fine. Our audience was large and they laughed. I think we all pushed it to our extremes and we had fun. There was an FSU film class there, filming. Not us, not the play. No. They were looking for ghosts in the supposedly haunted old Opera House. They wanted us to talk about ghostly sightings we may have had there while we, the cast, wanted to talk about what we'd just done- what all these months of work and play had resulted in, the little jokes, the way we have all felt bonded together. I think the camera crew missed the point- if there are ghosts at the Opera House, they are there because they like what's happening all around them, they loved the stage too much to give it up for eternity.
Well. That's what I think. Plus, they were annoying the very living shit out of me. They finally left, leaving us to talk and laugh and eat our cold manicotti, leftover from the dinner.
It was sweet.

And today we will go to church to watch my grandson and his mama get baptized and that will be sweet too. The sprinkling of water, the charging of the congregation to help with the raising of that boy. It's all symbolic, of course. That congregation is not going to be the ones to help with Owen's raising. But it's nice to think that they may be there should they be needed. Most of our family will be there and there is no reason on this earth not to celebrate Owen and what he has meant for our family. None. Sweetness there, too.

He'll be dressed in a long white dress which his other grandmother made for him before he was born, just for this one purpose. And that is sweet.
Everything having to do with Owen is sweet. Everything having to do with my family has sweetness to it.

And now it's time for me to dress, put on another sort of costume to go visit another church, one which does not have the words "Batshit Crazy" in its name. And I'll get to see my children, my grandson, hold my husband's hand.

Sweetness.

And you're sweet, you're sweet, you're sweet to come by here today, to read this.

Thank-you.

Now go on. It's Sunday. Be sweet.