Revelations and Congregations

Revelation:

The batter was mixed and ready. One, wide awake, and oh so Talk-y. She wanted to tell me about her dreams last night. She said that, in her dream, the Ice Cream Truck had pulled into our driveway. She said that the Ice Cream Man yelled out his window..."I'll be here all night. And the ice cream is Free."She said this with a giant smile on her face and a slight quiver in her voice. I reckon the "quiver" came from looking out the window this morning and finding the driveway void of Ice Cream Trucks. Dreams are like that. She also said that she dreamt that the World was made of Nutella. I can dig it. As long as something else was made of Graham Cracker, I can dig it.

The small-ish one slept on.

The medium-ish one and I took coffee and juice outside to peruse the Garden while the griddle heated. The Goat is always on the look-out for the next ripe cherry tomato. The okra is growing by leaps and bounds and when the time is right, you're all invited to a Gumbo / Fried Okra and cornbread party. (Picket...You and C. need to bring booze. I'll supply the Tents.)

I have the Ugliest garden in the whole World. There is no semblance of Order. But she's thriving. The basil is falling over under it's own weight - as well as the cilantro. Tomato vines creep and crawl like the tentacles of some giant, plant-like Squid, and pull at the bamboo stakes. The leaning towers of bamboo. Some of the German Pinks are as big as my fist. My Martini Roma tomatoes have collapsed their smaller stakes. Now they are a mess of medium pastel green promise.

And the small-ish one sleeps on.

She sleeps on as the medium-ish one and I pour batter on the seasoned griddle and add buttons of fresh blueberries. I press play after voiding yesterdays disaster. A Collection of Great Dance Songs will be our breakfast and as the first track kicks in, soft and smooth, the base driving like rain clouds and the promise of thunder and Lightening. One of these Days. The Goat says.."I like this, Dad." I knew she would. But I wanted to wait until the "lightening strike". Then it came. Deep and hollow like the voice of the Troll living under the bridge....'One of these days, I'm going to cut you into little Pieces....' Then the rains came.

"Uhhh, Dad. I don't think I like this anymore."

I can dig it. You will.

Congregation:

Then, after the small-ish one woke and demanded milk and pancakes, I scared the Jesus out of a Jehovah's Whiteness. I didn't mean to. I'm a nice guy. I had, however, neglected to put a shirt on after a session on the workout bag after breakfast and I was a sweaty, tattooed mess and had just finished a smoke and the Goat said that there was someone at the Door that she didn't know. This gets my blood up. There are three steps that lead to the landing and when I approached the front door, Mrs. Jehovah was back down to the First. She said, while still backing up, that she would like to invite me to a "seminar" that delt with the End of the World. In Ohio. I don't care for Ohio. Or seminars. I dig the Jehovah's Witness, though. I wanted to tell her I had the end of the World covered and ask her if there would be Booze.

She was too busy shuffling backward to listen. Damn. Seriously? I ran off a Jehovah's Whiteness with only outward appearance.

I reckon it's Shower and Shave Day.

-word.