Chomp, Chomp

Pack your bags and come on down! I just spent 45 minutes on the phone with my brother in law in North Carolina. He wants to make plans to visit this year; probably in the fall. He should be stronger and done with doctors appoinments and procedures.

 

The month of March will see my ex sister in law and her son (my nephew) and his two sons (great nephews) make a visit. I have time to get the guest rooms tidied up and get our plan of attack in place as far as entertainment which will consist of  lots of sight seeing. The little guys want to see alligators. I've mentioned a swamp tour on the Achafalya. The guide takes his boat load of passengers through the swamp, gliding his boat beneath the cypress trees. The legs or roots of these trees extend out of the water allowing one to see through them. A fog lays close to the water in the morning hours giving the area a creepy movie effect. As the boat moves quietly through the water, the guide points out the native flora and fauna. Birds, fish, turtles and neutra rats creep into the green algae laden water, perch on logs and hang out in the cypress trees. Vegetation of lily pads and vines are visible just below the surface of the water.  Rustling can be heard in the bushes, and the cries of the loons echo through the swamp. Soon the group's vessel is surrounded by pathways off the main swamp  and  glides past a  house. Beneath an  over growth of bushes and trees the house sitting just back from the swamp's edge has vines climbing up the sides, windows dulled by years of grime, it's exterior weathered grey from age releases it into it's background.

 

At some point the guide slows the boat and then slips to a  stop. He brings out some 5 ft long poles with heavy string attached. The ends of the line he attaches raw chicken meat and hands the poles to his guests. They hang the poles out over the water and wait. The wait is not long. From out of the water an alligator erupts, standing on it's tail,  most of it's body leaves the water. The light glistens off the heavy scaled back.  His mouth opens wide revealing the rows of teeth; he snaps up the chicken off the line. Gasps can be heard from around the boat. Everyone wants to try it now. The poles are loaded once again and passed to other passengers while everyone else waits and watches. They know what to expect. It's very quiet until the alligator strikes again. A patter of hands clapping can be heard, the crowd is impressed.

A good time is had by all and this excursion is well worth the price of admission.

The month of May will bring more house guests. The husband's sister and daughter plan on a visit here. New Orleans is in their plans.

It's going to be a busy spring here for us. I can't wait! I like touring visitors around this state!

 

 

 

 

 

Tick, Tick Tick

I could hear the tick, tick, tick. It's the sound one hears when something  firm is being tapped on something else firm. It's the sound your nails make when you tap them lightly on a table top; the sound a pair of heels make as the women hurries across a hardwood floor or the sound of an insect tapping or hopping across a hard surface. 

 

My eyes popped open at 0500 this morning. I know this because every morning upon awakening, I raise my head, squint my eyes and peer at the clock on the cable box sitting across the room. The blue blurred digits eventually stop their swaying and wiggling as I continue to focus. If it is before 0500, I will attempt to stay in bed. This morning I made the cut, though barely,  so I crawled out of bed, grabbed my iPad from the night stand on my side of the bed and headed for the sofa. A detour was made to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee. I never wait for the full brew; I cheat and steal a cup from the pot by sliding an empty cup on the heating pad while snatching the pot off  and getting a cup poured quickly; reversing the process by pulling the cup off the heating pad and slipping the pot back in. I am so adept at this that hardly a drop is spilled.

 

Grasping my fresh coffee with it's dab of International Vanilla cream in it, I settle on the sofa with the laptop. That's when I heard the "tick, tick, tick". Have I mentioned my healthy fear of bugs? In my case, it would be an "UNhealthy fear". I keep cans of Raid in every room for quick access. I suddenly go on full alert. There is a bug in here with me and it sounds huge. That "tick" sound is made by it moving across the hardwood floor.

 

Tick, tick, tick. I slip the laptop off my lap, bend forward and place it on the floor. Whatever made the tick,tick sound has now flown to the inside of the lampshade sitting on the lamp table to my left. I can't move fast enough at this point. I can hear it's wings beating the inside of the shade. My mind goes to the huge flying pine roaches that are common to this area. Those damn things sorta lunge through the air, land and then lunge again. I'm  horrified when I see one.

 

I headed in the opposite direction of the lamp, rounded the end of the sofa and moved toward the can of Raid while smothering little screams of fear. I don't want to wake the husband. He thinks my fear in unwarranted and I over react. Easy for him to say. He doesn't have a bug phobia.

 

The husband tells me a quick spray will do the job but I'm unable to let go of that nozzle until the object of my fear is floating in a puddle of liquid Raid.

 

By now the thing was on the arm of the sofa. I couldn't see it but I had noted where it went never taking my eyes off it while I collected the Raid. The sofa arm dripped Raid and the 'thing" staggered off the sofa and onto the floor where I sprayed until I could see him floating in the puddle of Raid batting his wing and moving on his side in a circle.

 

I'll place a kitchen chair over him and the puddle of Raid and when the husband gets up, he will remove him.

 

That grasshopper now knows who he is dealing with in this house. The Raid Queen!

At this point you may be saying "A grasshopper? Really? You are afraid of a grasshopper?"

To this I say "YES!" I can tolerate them in the yard where I can stay out of their way. In my house, the chance of it jumping on me increases dramatically and that is intolerable.

As soon as the husband wanders into the living room and I tell him about it, he says "Oh yeah, he was in here last night and I tried to catch but couldn't."  To this I said "And you didn't warn me?"

Living in a temperate climate most of the year encourages the growth year round of the creepy crawly things here.

My answer? I spray a lot. The perimeter, both inside and out gets sprayed during the year. I tolerate the Geckos that are hanging around on the outside of this house until one makes it way inside. I don't spray the Geckos but I will run out and flag someone down to get it out of my house. I figure I don't attach myself to the outside walls of this house where they like to hang out and I don't want them hanging out inside my  house. Everybody has their own place to be and everyone should respect those perimeters.

I'm outta here.

 

 

One Bike

Mardi Gras is in full swing here in Lafayette too. We rode around town for a while trying to stay off the streets that are parade routes. The streets are littered with beads not caught. Green, gold and purple they also dangle from the tree limbs above the parade routes from this past week. Soon the streets will be cleaned of all the debris. The plastic bags blowing down the streets that once held those beads, pitched from the floats as they emptied them poses a strange sight.  Thousands, they float along as the wind catches them and pulls them off the pavement and into the air for a brief flight before they land gently only to continue their restless wait for the next puff of air.

We drove down St. Landry's and passed the memorial to Mickey Shunick. A bicycle sits on a post protruding about 4 ft. out of the ground. It faces in the direction she was riding when the man that murdered her used his truck to bash into it and knock her off it.  The ground beneath has been paved with bricks and streches for 10 feet beyond where it sits.  The bike has been painted totally white. The rims, tires, frame, seat and handlebars....solid white. From the handle bars hang Mardi Gras beads in gold, green and purple. A row of solar lights border each side of the bricks leading to a black metal park bench a few feet away. Such a sad sight for those who remember the days she was missing and the sad ending when they found her body. Her murderer locked away in Angola the day after he showed the authorities where he had hid her body, no trial was needed. He confessed to obtain a lesser charge...life instead of the death penalty.

R.I.P. Mickey

Hang Me, Dang Me

First stop was the phlebotomist's office to get my blood drawn. It's that time of year when the doctor wants to check all my levels. A SMAC, a CBC and a Lipid Profile, two tubes of blood covered what he wanted to check and I scooted out of his office and across the driveway to the next building for my next test; a scan really.

 

After registering at the desk and giving up my insurance card, I take a seat and wait for the tech to call me to the back. This happens much sooner then I want. She escorts me to a dressing room and instructs me to remove my bra and shirt and slip into the

 "nicely starched folded gown with the opening to the front please and wait in the little waiting room to your right...I'll be back to get you." 

 You can tell she has done this so many times it's robotic sounding; a pleasant robot to be sure.

 

Less then 5 minutes pass and true to her word she returns. We take a short walk to the exam room or as I like to think of it "the little chamber of horrors". It's mammo time.

This is where she places a breast between a machine that resembles a huge clamp. She urges you to step closer, the edges snug against your rib cage, your breast waiting on the little platform while she uses her toe to press a button on the floor which brings the clamp down. You get to watch your breast assume a shape that wasn't intended on any female.

 

It's at this time, right before she tells me to hold my breath, that my imagination starts to shudder. "What IF" and the mind goes skipping forward to a machine malfunction. The first part of this is to roll over all the "kinds" of malfunctions that can be imagined.  

     The clamp not stopping when she moves her foot off that little floor control?   

     How about the machine developing an electrical short and begins walking across the floor with my breast in it's vise clamp?  

     Or a power shortage where I'm left attached for hours until someone figures out how to get power back to it?

I feel my feet beginning to do a nervous shuffle, a small moan creeping up my throat. I'm struggling to shut down the mental pictures skittering around in my brain.
 

Yes ma'm.....my mind is cluttered up with all these thoughts as dimly I hear the tech instructing me to

 "hold your breath, drop that shoulder, keep you arm by your side, hold your chin up...CLICK...relax, now that wasn't so bad was it?"

She pulls the film from the machine and places it on the light box to view it to make sure she got a good picture. She smiles and nods and turns her attention once again to me. The bright smile back in place, she strides forward to reposition me once again.
 

As luck would have it, I have to do this again for the other side. I couldn't talk her in to just flipping that xray and using it for the other side. After all, they pretty much look identical.

 

"Same place, same time next year?"

 I can hardly wait.