Got a text from FC Rabbath last night. Or, as I call him, "Old Freddy." Or sometimes, "Young Fred." Or sometimes, "Son."
But that's just because he calls me "Mom."
The text said, "May we do a couple of shots on ur property tomorrow? It's for our last 48 our film project."
He won a huge award for doing one of those last year.
I answered him, "Of course. What time?"
So who knows who is coming around noon today and if Laura is involved we may well do shots. Of vodka.
I hope Laura is involved.
Not that I usually do shots of vodka around noon.
So despite the fact that I said right here on my blog not to come over to my house and not to ask me to do anything, Freddy did and you know what that means? He doesn't read my blog. Darn him!
Also, darn him for not asking me to act in anything lately.
Whatever. I had my five minutes. I loved it. I love Freddy too and I believe in him. I'm looking forward to seeing him.
And I guess I'm feeling better today. Maybe the soup had healing powers. It sure did taste good. This illness is odd. It doesn't make you feel so bad that you can't go out into the world at all, thus spreading it around to everyone you come in contact with. I think this is proof of a theory of mine which is that viruses have their own intelligence. I can just see a little committee meeting of viruses discussing each new illness they are creating.
"Let's make people cough their heads off. That really annoys them!"
"Don't forget the headache!"
"Let me think. How about just enough fever to make it hurt when they pull their panties down to pee? How about that? If we make the fever too high, they'll just go to bed and where's the fun in that? Remember- the bottom line is always infection rates. We HAVE to keep that in mind."
"Of course. Now. What is it going to be about this illness which makes it really special, gives it that completely unique touch?"
They all sit silently for awhile, virus chins in virus hands. The bounce their pencils off the desk.
"I know!" says one finally. "Let's make it last forever. I mean, not really forever, forever, but it'll just seem like it. Just when they think they're getting all better, they'll come down with new and even more annoying symptoms!"
"Brilliant!" all the viruses agree. They all slam the rest of their coffee and gather their things together and shake hands and agree to meet for lunch and racket ball on Tuesday and run off to infect humans.
And so forth.
Yep. That's what I think happens.
Well, I should go out and weed in the garden a little bit before it gets too hot and the film crew shows up. My garden is just sad right now. We need to do something like cover the tomatoes with BT. The bugs are at all of it and the peppers look like Bonzai peppers and so do the cucumbers. We ought to just burn it and start again. Or let the chickens at it. They'd like that.
That's a picture of Miss Flopsy and her three babies from last night. We are so highly entertained by these chickens that it's ridiculous. The teenagers are doing very well too. You just can't be depressed or sad watching chickens peck around eating tasty bugs.
Also, we feed them grapes.
Oh boy. We sure do have an exciting life.
Happy Saturday, y'all.