A Paper Bag Wednesday With A Whole Lotta Links

I took that picture this morning in my little office yard. A banana spider has woven one hell of a web and the morning sun was shining on it. She has at least three fellows waiting patiently to impregnate her and I don't blame them. She is a fine spider who can weave a hell of a web and who wouldn't want to join their arachnid genes with hers?

I had a freakazoid attack last night and decided at nine-thirty or so that I HAD to get in touch with my daughter, Ms. May. Do not ask me why. I called her and there was no answer. I called my son, Mr. Hank, and asked if he'd heard from her recently. "Not since Sunday," he said. That's when I'd heard from her last too.
"I don't know why but I feel like I need to get in touch with her," I said.
"I'll text her and let you know."
He texted, no answer.
I asked Mr. Moon- "Do you think I should get Hank to go check on her?"
Now, remember, May is thirty two years old. She has traveled across the country by herself in a truck. She is quite responsible and strong and capable but I just needed to hear from her. To make sure she was okay. For no reason.
Mr. Moon said that if I wanted, he'd go check on her. Or at least tomorrow morning. Obviously, he wasn't too concerned.
Right about then the phone rang. It was May. She said, "Hank told me to call you because you think I'm dead or something."
Relief flooded me. She was fine. Absolutely fine.
And I was too, when I heard her voice.
For those of you with tiny children, heed my words- NO! You never quit worrying about them so get used to the idea.
And I am so grateful that my children don't laugh in my face and call me neurotic. They may well do that behind my back and that's okay. I'd do the same.

We have a local marine biologist who has written some books and has a marine specimens lab near here on the coast whom I've always admired and right now, he's in the national news. His name is Jack Rudloe and I found an article about him on the Huffington Post yesterday here.
When the oil spill happened, he decided to make a sort of Noah's Ark for the creatures great and small who live on and near the waters of his particular part of the Gulf. He and his family have been doing this to great expense and even greater labor. I am so proud of him, although I have no real reason to be. Just- well- he's local. And then last night, I heard an interview with him on the BBC. The BBC, y'all! Jack Rudloe!
My favorite book by him is one called Search For The Great Turtle Mother.
Changed my life and I am not kidding you.
So, anyway, here's to you, Jack Rudloe- a dreamer, a schemer, a Noah with an Ark and a plan. It's people like you who make me proud to be a human being. And that does not happen too often.

I'm off to town soon to collect my niece and nephew. They haven't come to spend the night at Aunt Mary's for a very long time and tonight's the night. I am excited about their visit. They are darling children and smarter than whips and livelier than whip snakes and funny and loving. We shall collect eggs and make supper and eat it and beyond that, I have no real plans. I'm sure they will guide me as to activities. I bet we'll read some books. Oh yes we will. And have pancakes in the morning.
Their papa, my brother Chuck, had a birthday yesterday. He turned forty-four. I was twelve when he was born and I remember it like it was yesterday. Chuck was almost like my first baby. I helped raised that boy and he turned out real good. He's the best father I've ever seen and the proof is those kidlings of his.
I'm sure there will be pictures.

I need to learn to shoot video. Ms. Anna asked me in a comment if my camera will do that because I need to get vid of my chickens running for the cat food in the morning. It does and I don't know how the hell to do it. But I'm going to. I swear.

And that's about it for me. I don't know why but I just felt like doing a shot-gun blog post this morning. Blast it out and get on with it.

And I just spoke to the mythological FC Rabbath and he asked me if I would do whatever I can to get the word out about his films. And you know what? I will although I don't actually see how my little blog here is going to do much to help him. but I'll put a badgey thing up on the sidebar here with a link. I've told Freddie that his company should be called Pull It Out Your Ass Productions because that's how he does it. And he works very hard at getting into festivals with his films and he isn't associated with a film school or an organization. He's just himself with his camera and he's so young and he's so dedicated and hey! he is letting me act and I enjoy it more than I can say. He has talent and that's undeniable and he manages to get some really fine actors to work for him for free under completely ridiculous situations. And even hold the boom when he can't rustle up someone else to do it. I feel very honored that he's let me into this group.

So. Okay. I think that's it.

Please recycle your paper bag when you are done with it, except for you, Ms. Bastard-Beloved, because I know you don't have time for such motherfucking bullshit.