Well, Mr. Moon is on his way home from Alabama with our friend, Tom, but Ross, the guy whose family's property they were visiting is NOT on his way back because HE'S IN THE HOSPITAL after having fallen down some steps this morning as they were doing a last-minute check of the cabin to make sure they had everything and broke two bones in his left arm. He's awaiting surgery and his poor wife is going to have to go up there and collect him.
After Mr. Moon told me that, he also informed me that he'd killed a five foot rattler behind the cabin yesterday afternoon. Here's the picture of the skin he sent to Lily. He did not send it to me. I wonder why.
Boy oh boy. The Trip of Doom, as our beloved Ms. Bastard said when I told her about these events this morning via the e-mail.
I told Mr. Moon on the phone that he is NOT going back up there and I don't care how big the damn bucks are on that property. No way, no how.
Of course he just laughed at me.
Well, let me just say again that I'll be vastly relieved when my husband gets home tonight.
In other news, I checked out the new sign at the church next door when I went to go pick some blackberries near the house. Turns out it's not a church. It's a...well, here's the picture.
It's a Revival Center.
Not sure what I think about that. I wonder how many times a week they plan on reviving.
But maybe they can explain to me exactly what the Holy Ghost is because no one I've ever asked and nothing I've ever read has been able to explain that one to me with any real confidence. As I've said before, I think it probably used to be The Father, The Son, and The Mother but then those woman-hating religioners got together and kicked out The Mother and replaced her with The Holy Ghost.
That is just my opinion and has no basis whatsoever in actual theological history as far as I know.
I'm having a hard time with religion and the religious today. Harder than usual. If you can believe that.
I'm going to go take a little nap so I can be ready for Owen's Big Night with Mer and Bop. Who knows how late he'll want to stay up?
Oh! I forgot to tell you about the dream I had about Keith Richards last night in which I discovered how very, very cool it is to be a rock star's girlfriend.
Heh-heh. I know. Grandmothers aren't supposed to have rock-star girlfriend dreams.
Oh well. Sometimes we get revived.