Dixie and the Green Healing Energy

Dixie said that I was under a little weather. I said that it felt more like the weather was up my nose... an accumulation of clouds, mostly the stuffy and sleepy variety. ‘Oh!' Dixie said, 'I have just the thing for boys who are plugged up and nappy.' And she went on to explain how, after the sun set, she would muster great gobs of green healing energy and float it northward to where it would seep through my window cracks and settle about my sleeping head. 'One way or another,' she said, 'you'll suck it, because surely you must be breathing.' And I was, and I did, and I do believe it is working, too. I feel less… cloudy. Only, I’m beginning to wonder if green healing energy might not have a sprig or three of broccoli in it. Or perhaps I’ve swallowed the clouds.    

Pre Road Kill

So...

this little guy was in the road up from my house

yesterday morning.

Just standing there.

For reasons we are still trying to figure out, 

he let me pick him up (kind of),

and bring him home.

I thought he might have gotten into some poison...

as there don't seem to be an broken bones.

I doubted I'd be lucky enough to have him live through the day,

but when I returned home in the afternoon,

there he sat.

I have a friend who re-habs these birds...

she advised I give him food and water and see what happens...

that, and call the proper authorities.

Long story short...

I had the pleasure of feeding him four trapped mice from my hand. 

Not so pleasurable a day for my mouse population.
Bitchin' day for me.

Oh... and for those of you wanting to fine me, and others, for helping a sick animal...

first...

stuff it up your ass.

Secondly...

I'm waiting for a call back from the nearest wildlife re-hab center.

Yes, mom, I washed my hands after.

 

On Dixie and the Meteors

     In the wake of a front, we bundled. She more than I—though far from fragile, her slight frame no match for the unseasonal chill. We packed mountain chairs out into the eastward darkness; padded them and settled in for the long watch of the Perseids annual passing. You have great sky, she said, as if the heavens that poured over her upturned face were some potential of mine, found in a line traced upon my palm. How fearless we were. Fearless of the bodies that fell burning, wish after wish. Fearless of the one slip that might spit us out into that great expanse; carry us wayward into the morning sun. Fearless, but for the tiny space between our hands, neither of us could cross.

For those of you betting...

Four chickens left. Four.

Laundry Room Remodel Cont.

Out comes one of the nasty black windows...

I was going to leave the vinyl for now, or try,

but as I plan on replacing it with board and battened cypress,

I said the hell with it and ripped it off as well.

I squared things up,

nailed a sheet of OSB over the hole...



and in went the window,
about that easy.

A trip to the dump and I'll be good to go.
Gawd, remodel projects generate some trash.



Inside, we trimmed...



Throw some paint on it and I can get to the next one.

A Small Stone...

Silly cat hides in the green, green woods, white as a Walmart bag.

Rustic White, The Laundry Room in Progress

Windows should be in this weekend.

On Spewing Chunks

So I found myself in bed again late last night with the remnants of a box of Kashi, Go-Lean Crunch, sort of a Granola meets Cracker Jacks—in a soy laden, peanutless kind of way—breakfast cereal. By remnants I mean a couple handfuls. I had fished out the choicer clusters and dusted my bed and bare chest with piddley nibbets and a fine, sticky powder, when it occurred to me that rather than reaching into the bag with my hand, more fork than spoon, I could simply remove the bag from the box and upend its contents into my mouth.

     Genius.

     Out comes the bag. I draw both ends tight to make the perfect chute and in the darkness, tilt.

     How the contents missed my tongue, I have no idea. But it did, making a clean leap directly into my esophagus. Rest assured, if not my brain, my gag reflex is in fine working order. Gawd. What a mess.

     Word to the wise.