Well, all I can say is we’re a Mess in Texas. A Real Life Honest to God Mess and I’m not seeing a turn-around in the near future. Nope. Not a prayer. And speaking of praying, I heard the old woman Slow talking on the phone to Pretty tonight and she told Pretty a preacher came to see Granny Selma today to enroll her in something called Hosspiss whatever that is. Anyway, he asked Slow if he could pray over Granny S and she said okay and evidently he leaned over Granny S and prayed real loud in her ear. So when he was finished, he patted her arm and told her he’d be seeing her again real soon to which Granny S finally opened her eyes and said Go on in her not very sweet voice. So much for the power of prayer and Granny Selma’s attitudes. You have to cut her some slack, though, since she’s as old as dirt and has heard those same prayers for almost eighty-five years. Hang in there, Granny S. The Red Man remembers your piano-playing years when you came to visit us on the Old Home Place in Spring Valley. You could tickle the ivories as good as Jerry Lee Lewis.
Paw Licker Annie continues to rattle Slow’s cage with her relentless attacks on her own legs and Slow lives in the perpetual dilemma of To Put on the Cone or Not To Put on the Cone. That appears to be the question. On or Off. On or Off. It makes me dizzy. Shit house mouse. It’s no wonder I can’t sleep.
I wake up in the middle of the night and Pace. That’s right…I Pace back and forth on the bed for a while and then I jump off the bed and Pace around the bed in circles. Then I may Pace down the hall outside our bedroom which is a sure signal for Slow to drag herself out from under the comfy covers in our bed and follow me to the front door and let me out. Which leads me to Pace in the yard for a while. I can’t help myself. I Pace, therefore I am. By the time I’ve finished this routine, Paw Licker Annie is awake and reluctantly joins me in my nocturnal adventures in the front yard. My name is Red, and I’m a Pacer.
It’s enough to drive Somebody to drink, and Slow went out with the Little Women of Worsham Street tonight to eat pasta and drink wine at a place called Norma’s over in Conroe because one of the Little Women used to eat at Norma’s all the time and said it was very good Italian food. So, as soon as they sat down, the Little Woman who knew Norma asked the young Hispanic waitress taking their drink order if Norma was in tonight and the little girl got this funny look on her face and said No, Norma was dead. Well, according to what Slow was telling Pretty, the Little Women kinda stared at each other and then they ordered wine. Turns out Norma’s is now Jose’s Villa Italia. Okay. Whatever.
Not to be deterred from their Girls Night Out, the Little Women didn’t come straight home after their meal but drove around the corner to a bar called TUTS which was one letter away from being scary.
Luckily, even though the jukebox was a 21st century high-tech push screen thingie Slow was able to figure out a way to play Abba’s Dancing Queen. I heard her complain it cost her a dollar but it was probably worth it and they didn’t have to pay for their own drinks since a nice man named Russell bought them. He knew the same Little Woman who took them to Norma’s.
Well, Amigos, it’s the end of a Big Day in Texas and I have to get to bed so I can be ready to Pace. Looks like another weekend’s on the way so here’s hoping the moon shines bright wherever you are tonight!
Get me outta here, Percy…