mrs. council's ghost

Soon after Mr. Council the horseman moved closer to his son in town, daddy asked if we wanted to live in his house. It was in pretty bad shape, built in 1918 without any structural improvements for many years. BG was four years old on that April day when we made the move. There were friends everywhere, including my daddy, putting up long gone mini-blinds and moving shit through the narrow ancient doors toward a new life for us as a family. We even had a piano later, a purchase from parents of a leukemia victim who took lessons. I took my Uncle Jimbo over to check it out and he said "buy". I found countless days of solace tickling those ivories and playing what songs I could still read from the UMC hymnal. Spirit Song is my favorite. Spring is like a really big surprise around here because usually what she planted comes right back and blooms like it was planted. The shade garden under the trees didn't get the foot of pine needles burned off until I got on a mission to clean this lawn yard up. Daddy asked me if I wanted to take the whole thing or let the horses graze up front. Silly me said I can always mow. Following my divorce, I spent one entire summer with a cheap pushmower in a cheap bathing suit getting exercise and believing that I could take care of it all myself. I've been paying for that decision ever since in one form or fashion. It is terribly expensive to heat and cool a house that old, and I've borrowed from Peter to pay TVA until I can't do it anymore. I am ready for the jet stream to get the hell away and give us some relief. Please Big Ernie?

I'm just as horrified as everybody else about the killings. The guy is mentally ill and nobody ever noticed or took charge of the situation. Many people with above average intelligence are hell bent on wreaking havoc. That's why it's called terrorism. The time is now to deal with the fact that he planned it for months and bought everything under the radar. As brilliant as he is supposed to be, a sudden departure from higher education would be a clue worth following. If I blame anyone, it's the arms dealers who made a literal killing off of him and should take equal responsibility for what happened in Aurora. I think this dude deserves a public defender.

Me and Daddy went to the egg and doughnut place today and got served by folks who know what we want by heart. Mama hasn't been with us there since the great knee infection but they always ask about her. She's busy running the world from her recliner and sleeping late. She told me a funny story about sitting on the pot and talking to her childhood friend last night. Daddy never even knew she was up.

Go figure.