Bits & Pieces

It's not nice to call people idiots or suggest that they have the collective brain power of a dried bean. We need to be more politically correct, more sensitive to the feelings of others. But then the paper reported that three suspects stole diesel fuel from a local oil company. It seems they broke in and poured the fuel into open containers...a mop bucket, a recycle bin, and a metal office waste basket, and then loaded their cargo into the back of their pick up truck. As they sloshed and bumped their way back home, they left a long, wet, smelly trail right up to their house... Sometimes you just have to name it. An apple is an apple and a dog is a dog...and these guys are idiots with the collective brain power of...well, you know.

Lucinda Williams sang to me as I sat watching the sun come up from my deck out by the lake. Fried oysters too hot to eat quickly, a pecan muffin with soft butter, strong black Colombian coffee...the birds were just beginning to hit the feeders and the frogs, now quiet, started to rest up for another night of frenzied lovemaking...and so it goes...

Heat snakes slither skyward off of hot metal as long lines of cars inch forward into the mouth of the Outlet Mall. Stores offer sales on overpriced fluff with designer names, bounty to be jammed into closets already fat with gluttony. Talk of recession-spawned hardships takes on an irritating whine. Misplaced values lure the pilgrims, so eager to join the sirens chorus.

Lying totally still, her eyes track my every move as I fuss around the room. Feeling the depth of her love makes me uncomfortable sometimes with the weight of her trust and of her unquestioning belief in me above all others. It's over the top; blind and irrational. The slightest attention I give her instantly causes wild and reckless joy. OK girl, lets go for a walk...

Out of sync with each other, I watch the rocking chairs move independently on the Lanai. It's not unusual for them to rock in the wind but there's no wind today. I don't know why they do that. I woke up quickly when I heard my brother say my name, his voice loud and urgent. That was several years ago when he lived in another state. The memory is very clear. Last night I saw a star moving in the night sky and then it changed direction. Sometimes the dogs run to the door, knowing Carla is about to walk in...ten minutes before she gets home. I feel, more than I know, which is easy to do. I'm not sure about anything at all.

A few stars pushed through a surly gang of clouds two nights ago and gave me a short lived expectation for clearing weather. All too soon a new mob of dark and grumbling thugs blew in and loudly smashed all glimmer of hope for even a brief view of the sunrise. The rain has been relentless, coming down more like a waterfall than just rain. It has a frightening intensity, an urgency. God must have forgotten that he left the tub running when he went out to dinner.

Water in lakes and wetlands is higher than I’ve ever seen it. Along the road to our house, Moultrie Creek winds its way out into the Inter-coastal waterway to dilute its brackish water with the coastal Atlantic's salty churn. Normally you can see vast stretches of marsh grass waving from the flats that even the highest tides don’t cover. Now we have had a week of water running so high that the tallest grasses are submerged with their peers. Huge blankets of water covering new ground provide unprecedented access for fish to spawn and crabs to celebrate a rare buffet. Everything is renewed as the once dry land is washed clean and impregnated with new life...