I’m hoping that fruit flies aren’t a harbinger of the apocalypse or we’re in a heap of trouble out here on North Neck. Over the past week, if one wanted to enjoy a glass of wine, then one must be content to share their vino with our ubiquitous friends. I don’t drink much, but the fruit flies are hampering my enjoyment of my pomegranate juice. Can’t turn my back on the buggers.
Kim lost her sash Friday night somewhere between the Chappy Ferry and Alchemy. Okay people, settle down! We’ll never find her sash if we panic! Let’s all take a deep breath. There. Okay, the sash is a deep gray satin, and comes to the name “Sashy.” If found, please call the number at the top of the column.
If Chappy were to become a state — and I think that the subjunctive case is proper here as Chappy has yet to achieve statehood — then I believe it would be neither a red nor a blue state. No, I believe it would be more of a seagull gray. And the state would vote accordingly.
I’ve noticed lately how green nature is — it uses everything it makes. A leaf feeds the soil, a mouse feeds a crow, a sun feeds the plant. I wonder if there’s a lesson to be learned. Somebody should give nature an award or something — make sure it feels recognized.
No, I can’t. Which is okay. Chappy teaches limitations. There’s much emphasis on our potential these days, but sometimes it’s good to know where potential meets the horizon. And stops. Just stops.
It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas here on Chappy. Not really, but I was afraid if I didn’t say it now I might not ever get the chance — very little snow in the forecast. And snow is the one addition to the landscape that adds a seasonal quality to our home. Otherwise, November, December, January, February, March and April look a lot like Christmas too.
Lady Gaga called me on Tuesday, wanting to know when Annie Heywood would next be hosting the potluck. I unfortunately was not certain of the exact date, but I did put her in touch with Annie directly.
