Sunday, September 2, 2012

No Theme. No Theme At All

Another beautiful, hot, humid morning here in North Florida.
The firespike has begun to bloom. I'd walk ten feet and take a picture but I'm already too enervated by the heat and humidity. My plan today is to do some outside work but I'm not really feeling too enthusiastic about that.
I seem to have acquired a new set of chigger bites.
The fun just never ends around here, does it?

I have almost forgotten that I have a husband. Mr. Who? I have no idea how much longer he and the guys are going to be down there in Tate's Hell hunting alligators. Maybe forever. Maybe he's left me and is planning on becoming a professional alligator hunter and he just hasn't informed me of this plan yet.
It's getting to the point that when he comes home (if he comes home) I'll be like, Who are you, you big giant man-person and why in the world do you expect me to do your laundry?
Can you even imagine the laundry that's going to come back here to this house?
No. You probably cannot unless you are in an intimate relationship with a hunter.

He's been really sweet about calling and texting but that's so disembodied. And it's all so alien to me. "We're on our way to Panama City to buy a new light."
They're sleeping during the day and hunting at night and hell, I can't even imagine what they're doing.
There are a lot of strip clubs in Panama City. Not that I think they went to one but I'm just saying.

Alien. Anything could be going on and I wouldn't be too shocked.


There was a man sitting at a table in the dining room of the Wakulla Springs lodge yesterday who may have been God. He looked like God. He was pretty old and he had long white hair and a long white beard and he was sitting in a ray of light, reading.
I think he may have been God. Really. In my mind, I'm going to make him God. He didn't look overly happy or overly sad, either one. He was just reading. I was afraid to look at him too much. Biblically, such an action can be dangerous. Looking into the face of God. I could have burst into flames although if I can believe that a man sitting at a table is God, I can believe that looking upon his countenance can only bring peace. I don't know why but I keep thinking about him.
Which makes me feel sort of peaceful.

I told Jessie and Vergil this morning that I am going to hell. This was because of something rude I said about someone I shouldn't have said anything rude about.
Jessie said, "We know, Mom."
You have no idea how mean I actually am.
No idea at all.

Well, sometimes when I sit down and start writing, a thought forms and a theme is found but today, obviously, this is not going to happen. I think I'll eat some pancakes. Today they have flax, peaches, blueberries, bananas, pecans and buttermilk in them.

Sunday. Hell, it's almost lunch time. Getting plenty hot enough outside to go and do some yard work. The mosquitoes are probably really working up an appetite.
On my tombstone (if I had one, which I won't) they could write, "She made good pancakes and fed the mosquitoes. She is in hell now."

Happy Sunday, y'all.

Love from The Church of the Batshit Crazy where we pass the syrup rather than the collection plate.
It works for us.


  1. Well, I'll have some company in hell then.

    Our pancakes had zucchini and cocoa and chocolate chips in them (and flax seed and whole wheat flour, and lots of healthy shit too but the chocolate seemed to send JOnah off the deep end. He was up there in church singing 'watch my booty, watch my booty' while doing some kind of electric boogaloo. So at least it sounds like there's going to be more interesting music in hell.

  2. Ha. Love the line about the syrup rather than the collection plate. I am raisin' my hands to grab some syrup at the Church of the Batshit Crazy. Amen.

  3. ummmm, excuse me... but this IS hell.

    Or at least is seems so somedays - and the rest of the time it is pure heaven. That would be about 10% of the time, I can live with that :)

    It's waffles here with peaches and raspberries - today will be morning heaven. Please pass the syrup.

    PS: We're all a lot meaner than anybody knows - somedays.

  4. I love your posts about the springs and all--it is such old Florida. Love it. One of my first dates with Hubs was floating down the Ichetucknee (sp?) in Gainesville, FL. Thoes handsome grandsons will always know a part of old FL too.
    Your mention of the old man looking like God made me think of that Joan Osborn song, "What if God were One of Us".
    "We knbow, Mom" Too funny. Sometimes I say things I shouldn't and my middle son laughs and says, "I dont think other moms would say that."
    They get us, right?

  5. I have to tell you how much I love "Church of the Batshit Crazy." Minus the church part, that is my life. And I want some syrup, too. :)

  6. I LOVE hearing the stories of your part of the world where it seems the polar opposite of mine.

    It's probably just me but I'm constantly seeing people that I deem to look like god (that or Santa). I've started to think that maybe I have a problem with it haha.

    Enjoy your pancakes!

  7. I'd love to know what God was reading.
    Maybe he wanted you to physically see him, so he showed up . . . right after your cleansing dip in that special place.

  8. Sara- Yesterday when we were changing Owen in the dressing room at Wakulla, he started doing a naked booty dance right there in front of every one. I thought it was hysterical! No. You will not be alone in hell.

    Nicol- Consider the syrup passed.

    Liv- Sometimes I think I am meaner than any one every day.

    Michele R- I love that song! I truly do. And that is one hell of a beautiful river and I can't spell it either.

    Mama D- Plenty for all.

    Wayne- Vergil thought that "God" looked like Santa and we agreed that perhaps they are one and the same. Funny how we imagine these magical beings, isn't it?

    Bugerlugs- Well, if he needed me to learn something, he didn't mention it. I couldn't see what he was reading.

    Elizabeth- The way the light was enfolding him...
    It was something.

  9. That is one awesome epitaph for your tombstone! haha.

    And yes, I do know all about THAT sort of laundry.

    Not to mention the strip club diversions.
    But I do like it when the mister goes away for a few days, it's like a holiday from marriage.
    As long as he comes home.

    Happy Sunday, is it really Sunday?

  10. Deirdre- I knew you knew. And yes, usually I feel the same way about these hunting trips but for some reason, this one is different in my mind. I have no idea why. Maybe I'm just getting older and bitchier. Yes. It is really Sunday. I hate Sundays.

  11. My dad and brothers were hunters. I KNOW. And add dog smell from the retrievers. But gators??? Gawd.

    And I'll see you in hell. We'll have an excellent time there, we will. All our friends will be there. And Lola the cat.

    XXXX Beth

  12. That would be the best tombstone EVER.

    Was God reading the Bible? Or was he reading a Stephen King novel? :)


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