Taking a Load off…

Whenever life gets to bearing down upon me, I have to take a break. Sunday evening I headed out for God’s Country to spend some time camping. Glorious sunrises started the days and glorious sunsets greeted me in the evenings. The only adverse weather was Monday afternoon when a strong line of thunderstorms foretelling a cold front came barreling through the area. There is nothing like sitting in your tent as the weather rages around you. Lightning struck so close to me at one point it made the hair on my head stand up and the immediate crack of thunder was deafening. I should have looked at the weather forecast before leaving the house which is odd for me not to do, but I was no worse for wear when all was said and done.

I also cooked lots of comforting camping foods on the campfire and my camp stove. One evening I had hoboes which are my all time favorite camping treat. They took two hours to cook in the coals of a smoldering fire though. I thought they would never get done. The carrots were especially troublesome.

This morning, I swung by the pond on our land to check on the water level. The pond was down five feet after an especially dry August here. I worried about all the many fish I could see swimming in the shallows. My father paid a tidy sum to have it stocked with bream and bass via Alabama fisheries and game. The fish certainly are growing though and seem well fed. We should be able to start fishing for keeps next summer.

I spent a long time talking to Carolyn on the phone before she went in to work tonight. She is looking for another job.

“I got offered a position as a cashier down at Wal-Mart,” She told me.

“Wal-Mart would be worse than Fat Albert’s,” I replied. “You deserve better. Your manager is awesome down there.”

And she is.

“I know,” She said. “But the customers down there just drive me freaking crazy.”

“I doubt the customers will be any better at Wally World,” I replied. “I avoid the place with a passion.”

“Yeah, you are probably right,” She said sounding dejected.

After hanging up the phone, I was standing in my backyard smoking a cigarette after taking my trash out. Maggie, the fool, was barking her damned little head off. It was most likely just a cat, possum, or raccoon. My father came walking down his long backyard with a flashlight in hand to come and get her to put her up.

“What is all this crap strowed about your back yard?” My father asked.

“Maggie’s started a collection of the neighbor’s toys they leave in their yard,” I replied.

“Well, it seems we have us another collector in the family just like your mother used to be,” Dad said as he chuckled. “For a little dog, she sure has been busy.”

Dad wasn’t kidding. I have like four baseballs, one softball, two plastic toy balls, one G.I. Joe doll, a Dora the explorer doll, a pair of sweat pants, a mop handle, two or three Starbucks coffee cups (and there is not Starbuck’s coffee place around for scores of miles), and probably a dozen large limbs she has dragged into my backyard.

The funny thing was that Dad put her in their fence and she was scratching on my backdoor within ten minutes. I called my father.

“She’s out again,” I said.

“Goddamn,” My father replied. “You are right that she is a canine Houdini.”

“Let her just sleep with me tonight,” I said. “I will bring her over in the morning.”

We said goodnight and hung up the phone.

Now, I am dying for a doctored up Tombstone pizza. I am going to add a little shredded whole milk provolone and mozzarella, some extra pepperoni, and go pig out before settling down to listen to my nightly radio programs which start at 11 PM. Good night.