*peers out the window at "THE MAN" as they are known around here*
I guess the best way to do this would be to give you the Cliff Notes version first, then I will go back and elaborate as I see fit.
When I left ya'll, I had just made it to
We spent five days there, then five days in Barcelona.
We came home to the aftermath of a flood of catastrophic proportions that had happened in our absence, during which mah kitteh had to be rescued from inside our elevated pumphouse (which still managed to go underwater.) It took a week of tromping around in the swamp to retrieve most of our crap that washed out of our yard and our shed here at the houseboat.
As soon as we had the majority of that chit cleaned up, dug out, washed off etc, it was time for Puss, as kitteh has come to be called, to be fixed. I had made her an appointment at the local Humane Society Spay & Neuter Clinic for one week after our return. As soon as we got back from our trip and saw her, we knew we were closing the barn door after the horse got out, but I took her anyway. The guy I made the appointment with had assured me that if that were the case, they would "take care of that little problem." The IB was concerned about her being a little Catholic kitteh, but I reminded him that she is half a trollopy little Episcopalian like myownself, which should explain her condition, and that I think the Pope would forgive her. Sure enough, they ended up performing a second trimester "solution" as well as the actual spay (and an everso fashionable green tattoo as a bonus, and we do be lovin' us some bone-eye, yes? Yes.)
I pick up Puss one day after her surgery, and the river conveniently floods again, trapping both us (if by trapped you mean we had to take the boat to the bar instead of walking or driving the four hundred feet from my front door to its) as well as Puss for the entirety of her convalescence, after which we spend another week digging out and drying up.
The next three weeks are a blur of crawfish boils, barbecues, an overhaul of the motorhome, merryment and mayhem, a funeral, massive quantities of Busch and Busch Light consumption, and a side trip to Pensacola to see *voice in my head reverberates 'THE LEGENDARY'* Joe Cocker at the Saenger Theater (fourth row center, thank you very much-and yes, mah panties were wet the whole time and ALL that implies. ^^groucho eyebrows^^).
Then came the wind-down. That last week when the laughter is brighter, the songs louder, the beer the coldest. When we have to acknowledge that there is a price for all this. The goodbyes are said, the instructions are given, the next trip is planned, and it is pretty much all over but the detox.
Since the IB has been back on the boat, I've been busy going back and forth between here, Gulfport and Mobile, trying to make up for lost time with El Juevo, my mom, and Dar. Now I am finally to the point where I can spend a day or two at home without having to go anywhere (other than taking El Juevo for surgery tomorrow-his vagus nerve stimulator malfunctioned so they are doing a revision in the morning) and I was going to take Dar out for a boat ride, but the river is full of "THE MAN" searching for the body of a fellow that disappeared on Mother's Day. (No, I had nothing to do with this one, for those of you who asked. *snicker*) (One of these officers out here is very dark complected, if you get my drift. Does that make him "THE BLACK MAN"?) (WHAT??? Who else am I gonna ask?) So far *peers out the window* no luck, and I have no desire to go help in the hunt. I am just praying to the sweet little baby Jesus that nothing gets hung up under the houseboat during the night-a three day dead gator is my only frame of reference, and I'd like it to stay that way.
So-that is the short version. I rectom I will sift through some pictures tomorrow whilst they are fiddling with my son's innards and will do some elaborating on the travel portions of this tale, at the very least. Let me know if there is anything in particular you'd like to hear about.
*smooches* to all!