What The Night Brings

I am loving the cool weather. But Spring has sprung and I am all to familiar with her waltz across Texas, over too soon like a Bob Wills ballad. Bluebonnets, Black Eyed Susans and me, will soon wilt under triple digit heat.

I lost another friend recently. He would drunk call me after wooing beach babes with his guitar at surf side pubs and bars. Forever young and full of fun. Forever a cool surfer dude.  Me, the forever night owl. I will miss those midnight texts followed by a call.  Full of melancholy and mischief he was the real deal.  I loved every minute of his crazy talk or the occasional serenade. A night owl can appreciate such things-things that go on after midnight in the moonlight while others slumber.

The sudden loss  full of change and uncertainty. It has been difficult for me to give up trying to understand. It is okay to let go and be comfortable in the not knowing. I think it is true youth is wasted on the young.

Most recently my energy is better spent paying attention to being authentic, genuine, real, bona fide. Have you ever noticied how many times you laugh at stuff you do not think is funny? I have made it a point to stop doing that. The result has caused me to be more mindful and worth the effort.
I do not have insomnia. I am a night owl. I always have been. I love animals and I like to fish but I don't like to catch anything. Because pulling that hook out of  tender flesh has got to hurt and the poor fish was just looking for a meal himself. I love dogs. I have a dog but he is huge and I think dogs should have a bed on the floor-in the house. Sofa's are for people. Just so you know the real me.
Be authentic. Be yourself. The world will adjust.
Time marches on. So it goes. kisses

My dog on my brown sofa. 

Worst Day of First Grade

The first Sunday of February 2019 will soon be dawning. Midnight fog will magically rise and transform into clouds.  Unlucky vapors too close to the ground melt into dew, forever earth bound.

I was in first grade in 1967. School was pretty confusing till about 6th grade but I do have a few vivid memories. About the worst occurred early one day before school started.
The first and second grade classrooms were in a big U with the gym and school offices in a separate building in front and an asphalt patio in the middle. Kids would arrive at school and run around on the asphalt till the bell rang when teachers materialized out of nowhere at the proper door.
One morning I was lolly gagging on the sidewalk waiting for Mrs. Townsend to appear when a boy from my class ran up to me. I do not remember his name but I can picture his face and hear his jibber jabber which made no sense. He acted like a feral child and probably needed to be in a special classroom. But here he was standing right in front of me. I shook my head and tried to tell him I didn't understand. When fast as a flash he grabbed the front of my dress and ripped it all the way open-from collar to hem.  Then proceeded to point, jumping up and down laughing, jibber jabbering like he was proud to violate me in such a manner. I was shocked and shaken, deeply humiliated and he left bloody scratches on my chest which hurt. A crowd gathered around us and a few of the boys joined in pointing and laughing. My 6 year old mind was racing.  I was trying my best to hold my dress together not knowing which way to turn. An adult finally stepped up and I will never forget, all she said was,  "Let's get you to the office. Maybe they can safety  pin your dress."
Pin up my dress?? As if it had casually spontaneously combusted!?   I wanted to disappear and never come back to school. Why wasn't she fussing at those laughing or asking me to point out the perpetrator so he could be punished?  Parading me across the square was just too much to bear.
The Principal's secretary was kind and empathetic. Finally some relief. She safety pinned  my dress and cleaned the scratches. She asked me what happened. I am so grateful for her concern which felt like a warm blanket giving me back some of what I had lost. I believe she is why that was a bad day and nothing more.
I'm thinking that was the worst day of first grade. I hope the boy got the help he needed.
Have a happy Sunday.
kisses

Shiver

Billy Mata and The Texas Tradition ai Quihi Gun Club

It is the 4th Saturday of the month and I should be two-stepping at the Quihi Gun Club to a real live country western band. Authentic country music only. Recent radio pop frowned upon as an abomination. Tradition thrives in Quihi, Texas where Bob Wills is still the king and Billy Mata packs the dancehall with his Western Swing.
Midnight finds me lounging on my brown sofa. Flannel teal colored pajamas for warmth as I contemplate my future. Disquisitive as to why the digital wall thermostat reads 70 F but my hands feel like ice. Must be the lingering humidity seeping and settling a chill in my bones. Jack Frost has made himself at home this year.

My mind wanders to a tragic, oh so sad story from Michigan where freezing temperatures dropped to -12 F.  A forever nurse friend called me heartbroken. A sweet and gentle female coworker never made it home after her evening hospital shift. She was found frozen beside a church. Hand print bruising on her arms was the only sign of trauma. An abusive boyfriend is suspected of pushing her out of his car. How long can one survive in such extreme cold? I shiver as the thought crosses my mind-I bet he knows.



It's turning out to be a long cold Winter. I hope the birds fair well.