Friday, September 30, 2011

It's Friday

It is not quite full light yet and Mr. Moon is out in the garage, sawing something.
I think it has something to do with the hunting camp.
Yep. I'm pretty sure it does.

Owen is coming this morning in half an hour or so. I am waking up from dreams of being in Asheville and Las Vegas, too. I have so much trouble with my wardrobe in dreams. Last night I had forgotten to wear shoes into a casino but then luckily, I was transported to Asheville and there was a store in which to buy shoes right there.
Ah me.


Recently down in Franklin County a sex-offender's release date from prison came up. He had nowhere to go and demanded to be taken to Tate's Hell and dropped off, which they did. He was wearing an ankle bracelet for easy tracking.
Guess what?
Within hours the ankle bracelet was disabled and now they can't find him.
Who would have guessed that would happen?
Tate's Hell is just what it sounds like. It is the wildest place and there are alligators and snakes and bears and if they don't get you, the bugs will.
I don't know why I'm telling you this. I have just been thinking about it.
Sex offender versus Tate's Hell.
Do you suppose this is a Tar Baby situation? Please don't throw me in that briar patch. But he asked to be thrown in the briar patch. Or Tate's Hell, rather.
There are lots of roads in and out of Tate's Hell. I doubt he's battling alligators right now, that sex offender. I wonder if Tate's Hell was a paradise after prison.
Whatever. I have no sympathy for a sex offender. Unless it was like an eighteen year old who had sex with his seventeen year old girlfriend and her parents got pissed off and had him arrested.
That's not sex offense. That's young love.

It's a crazy world.

Trust me on that.

I wonder what Mr. Moon and Owen will want for breakfast. Whatever it is, I'll make it.

Good morning, y'all. It's Friday.

Have a good one.


  1. 1. I love me some Sister Moon. I sure do.

    2. I love the new picture. Those flowers make me happy.

    3. "Whatever it is, I'll make it." This is so sweet and special and you. I love you, Sister Moon, I do!

  2. Tate's Hell sounds like something out of a Hiassen book where Skink might live.

  3. Tate's Hell is such a great name. The South has such great names for places. Who the fuck would call something Bull Run, for instance, when they could refer to it as Manassas? Bull Run, my ass.

    By the way--the sex offender--I hope the gators eat him.

  4. I saw a big Black Bear last season in Tate's Hell smashing through right next to my stand. He went to his sleepy spot not 50 yards from me so I crept back to the truck.

    That feller was locked up for offenses against a child younger than 12. He's now free in Tate's Hell. I have no pity for such, but at least he's in the woods, just as hunting season starts. I hope he keeps warm with a deer-skin hat.

  5. I love the new look of the blog.

    You're shaking it up.

    I love this post, too.

  6. SisterDoctor- Owen wanted a muffin and Mr. Moon wanted a smoothie. Pretty easy.

    Syd- Exactly.

    Ms. Bastard Beloved- If you google Tate's Hell you will see how it got its name. It's an apt name.
    The gators could have gotten him.

    Mungam's Hell- Mr. Moon's trail camera at his feed plot shows more bear than anything. This worries me.
    And that sex offender CAN go to hell.

    Bethany- And to you, too, dear one.

    Elizabeth- Like I said, easier to change the blog's look than the house's.

  7. I hope they catch him if he is dangerous.


Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.