When I went out to check the mailbox Saturday afternoon I encountered this guy.
He might be the largest, most beautiful grasshopper I’ve ever spoken with; although, I think he might be injured. He didn’t even attempt to hop away when I closed in on him. I moved him to the shade, so maybe he can recuperate. At least he’ll be less of a target for birds there.
Peace, people.
Yesterday I posted that I’d listened to an alligator’s mating call while sitting on my back porch. A reader asked what an alligator’s mating call sounded like, so here you go:
If I were a female alligator, I’d be all over that.
Peace, people!
Studly Doright played a round of golf last night, so I spent my evening on our screened-in back porch. My time was well spent, and I chronicled my experience on Facebook. Oh, wine consumption was involved.
And if that wasn’t exciting enough….
Of course, at some point the excitement must wane…
Here’s my view:
Wishing you a gator-free evening.
Peace, people.
Today (Thursday) I was sitting outside Sweet Pea Cafe waiting for my to-go lunch to be delivered. As is my custom, I perched on the end of a picnic bench and read while I waited.
A sound startled me and I quickly looked up and to my right, where less than 50 yards away traffic was flowing up and down Tharpe Street. Somehow my brain got the impression that I was in jeopardy of falling off the bench, and I yelped.
The only other customer, sitting well over six feet away from me, looked up at my exclamation, ready to come to my defense. I smiled beneath my mask, shrugged and said, “I thought I was falling off the bench.”
He looked at me and where I was sitting, held up his thumb and forefinger and said, “You were this close.”
We both laughed. He cautioned me to be extra careful before taking his meal. I told him there were no guarantees. Again he made that sign with his fingers.
And laughed.
I wonder if there’s a way to make money for all the entertainment I provide? Probably not.
Peace, people.
I had a bit of a fright this morning. After sitting in front of my laptop for a couple of hours trying to create an outline for a new book I’m working on, I decided to make a run into Tallahassee for necessities. Okay, I wanted wine, so sue me.
It didn’t take long to locate the wine I like (19 Crimes Cabernet Sauvignon), so after I placed a bottle in my basket I stopped by the pet food aisle and grabbed some cat treats before heading to the checkout line.
I seldom use the self-checkout registers, but with just three items in my cart I thought it would be less hassle. After scanning the items in my cart I looked up at the machine and gasped. There was a wild-eyed masked person looking back at me!
“Hey, you!” I said, rather forcefully.
The young woman who assists with self checkout came over immediately to help, but by then I’d realized that I was the wild-eyed masked person in question. It was my own face staring back at me from a small screen attached to the register.
Laughing, I told her what had happened saying, “I’ll bet this happens a lot these days.”
“Not really,” she said. “You’re the first.”
I chose not to believe her.
Peace, people!
This two-year-old post showed up on my page today. The story is absolutely true, and I still miss that skirt.
https://nananoyz5forme.com/2018/06/29/it-happened-one-sticky-afternoon/
Peace, people!
Lately I find that certain songs make me cry. This one made me pull my car off the road so I could sob. https://youtu.be/L6svOHFSAH8
I cried for lost innocence, for the needless deaths of people of color. I cried for this country. I cried for the absence of justice. I cried until I couldn’t cry anymore. And then I drove home. That’s privilege.
Peace, people.
George Floyd was murdered in broad daylight by an officer of the law with witnesses standing near, yet I haven’t said anything here.
People are protesting in the streets, still I’ve stayed home, safe in my little world, pleading age and fear of contracting a virus.
Friends are hurting, at each other’s throats, but I’ve not written a word. That’s my privilege and my shame.
Instead, I’m listening. Learning. Taking notes. My whiteness is my shield and my weakness in matters of color.
I know this, though, black lives matter, and even if I don’t know what else to do or say. I’ll keep saying those three words.
Black Lives Matter.
I’ve sent my novel off to two literary minded friends in two different parts of the world to be read and critiqued. Sending my children off to kindergarten wasn’t this emotionally painful.
Even though I have no illusions of my little manuscript becoming the next great American novel, just as I never imagined either of my kids would one day become president, I hope it has some redeeming qualities; although, I’m totally prepared to do a complete overhaul if it doesn’t.
If my beta readers think my book stinks, I’ll live. Oh, I’ll be depressed for awhile, but then I’ll try to make it not stink. Might need a few glasses of wine to ease the pain, but I have a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon handy. And if Donald Trump could be President, there’s hope for my kids. They’d both do a far better job than he has.
Peace, people!
A tropical storm named Cristobal is playing havoc with weather here in the Florida panhandle, dropping torrential rains and stirring up occasional tornadoes. We’ve had a brief respite from the storm this morning, and I’d get out and run some errands while the sun shines, but there’s a paint crew working inside the house to cover up the holes plumbers created while fixing our water leak. I feel like Roseanne, Roseanna Danna.
This afternoon the rain is predicted to return and continue through the weekend. We’ve been in drought conditions for several months, so the rain is welcome, but I worry that mushrooms will begin growing out of my ears if the storm lasts much longer.
If we have to have a tropical storm at least this one has a musical name. Cristobal always makes me think “crystal ball” and when I picture the storm in my head I see this:
I hope the fortune teller sees an end to Cristobal in the crystal ball in the near future.
Peace, people!
Praying for Eyebrowz 