Paper Bag Stuff

I seem to have lost my voice again. Not my speaking one. It's fine. No, this is even worse- my blog voice. My writer's voice.
Is it my changing-over-again brain?
Is it the humidity which has gone from around 45% to 95% seemingly overnight?
Is it the heat which accompanies the humidity? (And when people say, "It's not the heat, it's the humidity," I want to say, "Fuck you, asshole. It's fucking both," but that's just me.)
Is it the gradual wearing-out of my own self?

I don't know.

But it seems like as good a day as any to do a brown-bag post, give you a plain brown bag clumsily folded over like something that's been in the car for a few weeks and say, here- take it. I forgot to get you a birthday present but I think there's some stuff in here. Softened by the humidity of course.

So I can't seem to take a picture which is in focus to save my life today. Macro-shmacro. Auto-shmato.
Whatever. Maybe it's my eyes and not my camera. But here's some salvia that I don't even remember planting.

Maybe I didn't plant it. Maybe the Fowlers did. I'm old. Which brings to mind something I've been thinking about concerning Jessie's mandolin and how amazing it is to get a present that is going to be with you your entire life. At the age of twenty-one, to get something that'll be with you your entire life IS amazing.
Now I'm not old enough to really have to be wary of buying green bananas but I am old enough to know that a lot of things I acquire at this point are going to be around for my children to have to deal with when I die. Purses, kitchen utensils, a new pair of overalls.
Hell, a new pair of Crocs.
Let's not kid ourselves- I may outlive the chickens but I'm not buying a new parrot anytime soon.

So I'm sort of involved in the Murder Mystery at the Opera House right now. I told Kathleen and Judy, the directors, I would so this and so I am. I am A-Face-In-The-Crowd and as such, I have a little bit that I do with another actor for the part of the play where the game-show host of Wheel Of Money! asks for volunteers in the audience. Also, I applaud loudly, hoot, whistle and every time they say Wheel Of Money! I and my fellow faces in the crowd shout it out with the people onstage.
Plus, I serve salads, dinner and pie.
And help dry glasses afterwards.
Ah yes, the glory of the stage.
But, it's a volunteer thing, I guess. Does that give me points for heaven?
I sincerely doubt it.
It's good for me to go be with people on a Friday and Saturday night. Mingle with the people of Monticello, hang out with my Opera House family. Also, I get a free beer. So you know- it's a good thing.

So I did that last night and I'll do it again tonight. And the next two Friday and Saturday nights. Sigh....
There's only so much mingling I can do and I suck as a server. Oh well. You get what you pay for. I'm pretty good at drying glasses, though.

So I slept about eleven hours last night. I didn't get up until after nine thirty. This is some kind of a record for me. And it's hopping, nature-wise, here in Lloyd today.

Two Carolina house wrens are busy building a nest on the tarpon on the wall of the porch right behind me as I write this.


I can't give the wrens too much credit for smarts. We go through that door about fifty times a day, and the dogs hang out here a lot. As do I. But wrens build where they want and it's an amusing thing to watch.



They're mighty damn cute.


Sometimes they fly into the house. I cleaned up three wren poops on the kitchen floor yesterday. They come and go through the dog door, which, by the way, Owen discovered yesterday. Yet another way he could hurt himself- tumbling through that.
Oh, Owen.

So while I was writing this, Mr. Moon called me to bring the camera outside. He'd discovered an oak snake. I set my cereal bowl down and went to see. Sure enough, a fine handsome snake was camouflaged in a wood pile.

Can you see him? Click on the picture to make it bigger. (Duh)

I took a picture of his pretty little snaky head.

I tried to get his black, flicking tongue but I wasn't fast enough. He was tasting the air. Did you know that snakes can't hear?
Anyway, as I watched, he slowly and silently moved, showing me his entire length. He had to be about five feet long.


But skinny.

Here's his lovely camouflage:


Now, that, my folks, is intelligent evolution.

And that's about it from here. The chickens are running around. Owen is not coming today. He was here yesterday afternoon and his grandfather got to watch him when I went to the Opera House. It was a good thing for both of them. Mr. Moon even had to change a poopy diaper! This is not a first, but it's not like a hundredth, either. And Mr. Moon helped him play the piano which he said the boy loved. I think Owen might end up being a musician. Every time someone plays music for him on a guitar or mandolin, he sits perfectly still and takes in every aspect of it that he can. He doesn't sit perfectly still for anything else, believe me.

I might work in the yard today. I don't know. I'm feeling incredibly lazy.

And oh yes, tomorrow is Mother's Day. "What do you want to do?" all my kids ask me.
And I don't know. I don't anyone to go to any trouble. That's what I want. I want to celebrate Lily on her first Mother's Day because she is such an amazing mother. I want to see everyone but I don't want anyone to have to cook or clean up. And yet, I don't want to go to a restaurant, either.
Bah. I'm too fucking hard to please.

And the only presents I can think of that I would like are a magnolia blossom and a bottle of gin. I told Lily that yesterday and she said, "You don't drink gin!"
I said, "Well, I do like a gin and tonic," and I do. I like the blue bottle, too. I think it's mostly the bottle I like.

But frankly, if all that happened tomorrow was that everyone came out and we ate some cheese and crackers or chips and salsa and I could sit somewhere near enough to a magnolia blossom for it to fill my head while I sipped icy gin and tonics and listened to my kids laugh, that would be glory enough for me.

And then there will be another bottle for the bottle tree and glory hallelujah! pass the limes.