Labor Day Weekend Tale

Mr. Hotdog and Cindy Lou were camping this weekend and Hubby wanted to go out for a visit. I slogged around Saturday and didn't get myself in gear soon enough, so I promised him I would go to bed early so we could start out early Sunday.

Well, the best laid plans.... I got involved with watching Hurricane Gustav track towards New Orleans and figured this would be a repeat of the nightmare of Katrina. Then I started to draw. Always a bad idea to start drawing at 10:00 pm when I should get up early the next day.

I finally went to bed at 6:00 am Sunday after staying up all night piddling with this:



After just three hours of sleep, Hubby woke me up and we started off for the campground. On the way we passed a church sign: "God has a big eraser." I think it is supposed to mean that God will forgive and forget all your sins, but I got a whole 'nuther message:



Yeah, I think funny.

At the campground there was a temporary corral with horses down by the lake. Odd, but I guessed it was somebody running from Gustav. Yep, Louisiana plates. Hubby had to stop and find out the rest of the story.

The guy and two other families had escaped from New Iberia, LA. He said (with a delightful Cajun accent) after Katrina the water had come within two feet of his house. He had ridden in an air boat over two-story houses. He said he wasn't sticking around for Gustav and he wasn't leaving his animals. He had packed eight horses, two cows, and a Shetland pony in the cattle trailer...and the pig in the ice chest.



The pig was on the grill and smelling mighty fine. They were trying to get everything cooked before the rain set in. He was appalled to find nobody sells beer in Arkansas on Sundays. Yes, we're a backward state.

They had left New Iberia at 2:00 pm and had to stop and swap trucks somewhere along the way because one had lost an oil pan. They arrived at the campground at 10:30 pm and finally got the corral up and the horses watered and fed at 2:00 am.

The horses were stressed from the trip and the tight quarters and were biting each other on top of a sunburn. Mr. Cajun agreed they didn't have an ideal situation here, but, "Ees bedda dan swimmin'."

We got to Hotdog and Cindy Lou's camp and Cindy Lou's brother was there too. He's a Harley Davidson guy and has a little pop-up camper trailer he pulls behind his hog.

(click to embiggen)

Cindy Lou liked this sketch so much she wants to frame it and hang it in Brother's Harley Davidson themed bachelor pad living room. I just rolled my eyes.

We finally headed home after a long, hot day of swatting skeeters and picking ticks and chiggers. I made Jambalaya for dinner in honor of our Cajun guests. Man, it was good.

Hubby made me a root beer float for dessert and I promptly fell asleep on the couch around 8:00 pm with my glasses on and Hurricane Gustav coverage blaring on the TV. Around 3:00 am I woke up to find I was clutching a plastic coffee can.



What the hell??? I don't even drink coffee. Why did I have a death grip on this thing? Hubby swears I woke up, had a conversation with him about how I wanted it for some project, and took it from him. I don't remember anything about it.

Sleep deprivation doesn't suit me well.

Yard Eggs and Brain Frequencies

Northern Louisiana was just ripe with blog fodder this weekend. Somewhere in Claiborne Parish (I think that's where we were) we passed a house with a small, white sign out front. (Dang it, the highway was too busy to stop and get a photo!)


The first thought to pop in my head was,

"Our yard has *never* laid an egg. How did they get their yard to do that???"

I think that proves that my brain is not tuned to the same frequency as other people's brains.

But oh, it gets worse....

Next thoughts in rapid-fire succession:

"Maybe we aren't fertilizing it with the right stuff"; and

"Maybe we have a boy yard."

Where is my strait jacket??? It gives me a such a warm feeling of security. I'm so lost when I'm in public without it.

She Had Knowings

It was in the back booth at the Stagecoach Cafe in Springhill, LA. The couple in the booth behind me had obviously been there a while when we arrived and showed no signs of leaving when we departed 45 minutes later. They were in a serious conversation about something and weren't anywhere near being through.

I don't usually eavesdrop on my fellow diner's quiet conversations, but something the man said brought my brain to a screeching halt.

"She had knowings about (mumble, mumble) and she chose to take no action....

Wow!

"She had knowings about..."

Not "she knew," but she had knowings.

Knowings sounds like some kind of psychic gift to foresee the future. Not merely to see, but to touch, taste, feel, and experience an event that had not yet, but ultimately would, come to pass. A knowing may be a kind of spiritual, emotional infusion in the bones as well as the soul. That's a pretty profound ability.

I suddenly felt as though I had been dropped into a real-life episode of The X-Files, and it was Mulder and Scully sitting in the booth behind me.

"But Scully, she had knowings about it and she chose not to do anything and just let it happen. She can somehow transport herself, or rather her essence, but in a physical form, through time into the future. While there she can somehow manipulate the outcome of events. Of course it's possible Scully, it's as plain as the nose on your face."

"Mulder, there's no such thing as knowings. It's just some type of hallucinogenic manifestation of a psychotic brain. Humans can't possibly effect the outcome of events that haven't happened yet."

The Truth Is Out There.

It may be out there in Springhill, Louisiana.