May I Have Your Attention: Update

 What can I say…it’s a hot day in May. I swear I saw the car dash temp at 91, and I finally succumbed to using the AC at night. I’d say it’s critical (your prayers are needed). 

But I didn’t start this post to complain about the weather. You know Florida: it’s hot, hot, hot, with some sweater weather months. For the record, I’m not used to it. I have Northern DNA, yet I don’t dig the cold. I don’t know where I belong (is there a Mediterranean climate waiting for me in heaven?).

But enough of that. 

There are five adorable kittens that need a home, our home in fact, but we can’t find them now since we believe the mother relocated them and is using herself and Rusty to guard them from our sticky fingers. John says there may be an ensuing custody battle (“I’d like to call Untrusty Rusty to the stand”), so we’ll need a lawyer specializing in feline affairs. I hope it won’t be drawn out. We really need those kitties, like, right now. It reminds me of a sign in the restaurant I used to work at: all unattended children will be given an espresso  and a kitten. Well, I’m that child, counting on that promise.

Since I can’t get my kitten(s) and espresso, we went to Neighbors Ice Cream on Spruce Creek Road. I love their peanut butter cup flavor. Actually all the flavors look good; it really amps up my FOMO (like my biggest concern in life is ice cream. I guess there are lesser and better worries). I’m not going to be one of those people that asks to sample several flavors…like get out of here. But I am one of those people that goes out for ice cream when there are literally four containers of ice cream in our own freezer…because I like getting out of the house. So hang me.

I’m writing this out on the porch where the termites are in full force. Yeah, they’re not mosquitoes or gnats…it’s the bugs that eat your home. They’re skinny and brown and trailing each other in a conga line. It’s unsettling. I thought a cat 5 hurricane would be the demise of this place, but it looks like I’ll be made homeless by insects. Their “droppings” are all over my desk inside. I seem to have a bug theme throughout my life: I was allergic to bees (at one time), I’ve had flea bites from every cat I’ve ever had, and I’m a magnet for mosquitoes (but who isn’t); I don’t know if it’s my genetics or if I’m living through the seven plagues. I wish I could attract something nice like butterflies, but then I’d probably have to grow a horn out of my head and shit glitter (damn). I can’t help it if I take it personally. Once I saw a dude on beachside get serially attacked by a bird so bad that he had to step into traffic; I bet he took it very personally (I still wonder what kind of bad mojo that guy was carrying. That bird was on a mission. Theres freaky shit on beachside).

Speaking of beachside, we just had Jeep Week, or we thought we had Jeep Week, so we travelled over the bridge to Main Street thinking there would be action. Action like drinking that I can’t partake of (whoop). But the jeepers are not like the bikers and there was no rendezvous. We just did a lot of walking down Atlantic Ave looking for a pizza shop. Feeling frisky we walked down Seabreeze, cause I needed to absorb more alcoholic vibes…no really I just thought it would be fun. It’s the avenue with all the bars and clubs and it was Friday, but it was dead except for the Coyote Ugly blasting techno. We got our slices of pizza at a little joint and ate on the patio  and shared a Dr Pepper. But this street was starting to freak me out, like I might be the recipient of a random bullet (I know I sound like such a yuppie white person). Honestly it was creepy. And my fears confirmed, we walked by some dude certifiable crazy, performance and all. I think I’ll stick with Main Street in March; the bikers do not scare me, and I’m okay with the booze as long as someone else is drinking it.

I should be scared to be on the porch at 1 am, but I find if I listen to loud music through my ear buds, it’s like when I used to get drunk; I don’t care what’s going on around me (I’m in my own little world after all). There was a possum out here one night. I like possums.

Im trying to tune in to my radio show again, Coast to Coast. I wanted to listen last night because the topic was the mysterious deaths and disappearance of American scientists, something my brother and I are hooked on. I have my own little theory: I think they got in contact with a higher intelligence and they got, well, beamed up. Yeah. I think the mothership came for them. But the deceased ones, I don’t know; makes me think something humanly heinous is to blame. Just remember: there is so much going on that we don’t know. Forces. Secret societies. Plots. And divine intervention and the universe that we don’t understand. I wonder how long this story will remain popular and how quick it will be forgotten. 

I’m not posting as much as I’d like; I wouldn’t mind if an actual writing bug bit me, lol. But there are some medical issues going on with my family, so I am a bit preoccupied. I’m glad I took the time to write this, however late at night. I’m turning into a night owl. Hoot hoot.

Like Joe Walsh said, life’s been good to me so far. 

Over and out.