Monday is Labor Day here in the states, and Studly Doright has the day off work. Since he’d played golf on both Saturday and Sunday, Studly decided to do yard work on his holiday. I was drafted to assist. Oh joy.
My job was to drive the lawn mower around the yard and load fallen branches into the trailer while Studly used his manly skills to chop branches that were too big for me to lift. We’ve had two fairly severe thunderstorms this past week, so I filled my little trailer multiple times.
Once I’d finished my part I handed over the reins of the mower to Studly who insists that he’s better at the job than I am. Hey, I only almost backed over his foot twice today. That’s a real improvement over previous performances.
Doright Manor sits in the middle of a forest on a small lake. I grew up in the Texas panhandle where trees are few and far between, so I never get tired of exploring our woods. Today, while Studly was mowing I found this little party animal:
Studly Doright is making progress with his recovery from surgery on his sciatic nerve. He still isn’t sleeping well due to intense nerve pain, but he manages to push through somehow. He’s tough.
Saturday he joined his golf group for lunch where they regaled him with tales from their morning round. He misses golf almost as much as he misses his sleep.
Studly returned home at one, just as a thunderstorm rolled in. He and I both took a much needed nap while the storm raged outside. When he awakened Studly surprised me by asking if I wanted to go to a movie. Well, duh. I ALWAYS want to go to see a movie.
I’d already seen Solo, but Studly hadn’t, so we spent the afternoon in that galaxy far, far away. I enjoyed it more the second time than I did the first, and Studly gave it his seal of approval. Afterwards we enjoyed dinner at a Japanese steak house to round out the evening.
Before the film started, though, our neighbor texted me a picture of a tree that had fallen in our neighborhood. When we returned home we drove passed our home to take a look.
It’s hard to tell from this angle, but the tree fell on top of a trailer loaded with sod, narrowly missing the pickup truck that had been pulling the trailer. We aren’t sure if it was felled by lightning or if our oversaturated ground gave way. Such is life in the forest. Hopefully no one was injured.
Studly went to bed early, hoping to get some sleep. Fingers crossed.
I sat on the screened in porch yesterday afternoon as a storm moved in over the lake. The blue window in the middle picture took on the appearance of a face when I looked at it closely. Then, the bottom photo has a somewhat sinister appearance. See if you can find what I’m talking about. It freaked me out a bit.
Oh, and as I finished typing that last bit we had a very close lightning strike followed by an instant house-rattling clap of thunder. Scout (our cat) and I made a hasty retreat into the house. Whew!
On a typical Saturday morning one would usually find me wandering around Tallahassee or neighboring communities while Studly plays eighteen holes at Southwood Golf Club. I had planned to explore the annual LeMoyne Chain of Parks Art Festival this morning, but a bulging disc (not nearly as glamorous as it sounds) and the threat of rain have kept me homebound. Maybe tomorrow….
I’ve had a couple of cups of coffee enhanced with Irish cream, and a protein bar for breakfast. The forest in my backyard is bathed in that processed chrome lighting that accompanies cloudy days in the Florida panhandle. It looks as though a fae clan might emerge at any moment to dance around the toadstools growing beneath a magnolia tree. I keep watch, just in case.
I’m doing laundry and watching Saturday morning cartoons, and I have a complaint to lodge. Namely, whoever the hell is doing the animation for the cartoon Alvinnn!!! and the Chipmunks should be arrested posthaste and forced to serve a life sentence watching the original series. Maybe he/she/they would learn what Alvin and company should look like and draw them accordingly.
My years spent sitting enraptured by Saturday morning television surely qualify me as an expert in the field of cartoon esthetics, and what I’ve witnessed this morning is a disgrace. So, how do I report this travesty? The chipmunks look like sleazy rodents instead of clean cut, chubby cheeked faux-teenagers.
Flipping through the channels I find that few of my other cartoon favorites have fared any better. They’re either so heavily computer-generated that they look nothing like the originals or drawn so poorly that their original animators must be rolling over in their respective graves.
Today’s children, though, have been raised on this second-rate fare, plus, they have so many more choices than my brothers and I had with our three channels (ABC, NBC, CBS) that I suppose they don’t realize what they’re missing.