| In My View, Neighbors |
 |
 |
 |
| Written by aardvark |
| Sunday, 27 April 2008 11:04 |
|
In My View, the Neighbors Well, we are settled in to our property for the summer adventure here on the Gulf coast. Our grandsons will not be here till June, so we have some time to ourselves, and time for the wife to decompress from tax season. As some of you know, small town country people are nosey, and so it is with our neighbors. Most felt the need to come by and say hello. (Really, who are you, and what are you doing here) Our neighbor to the North has 25 acres, 3boys, and is the county sheriff. Nice enough guy, he spent some time in the military, and we had a pleasant visit. His wife is involved in the local community, as you might imagine, and chairman or something or like that at the local church. A small exclusive conclave exists to the East of the road coming to our land, and is inhabited by 2 attorneys, a minister and the local Veterinarian. Both the minister and the vet are about my age and are icons in this rural community. The attorneys however are 35-45 and well, attorneys. Have you ever had the feeling that when you first met someone, you just weren’t ever going to get along with them? These gentlemen evoked that very response in me. The folks to our South and West are mainly farmers, small business owners or retired. By in far the most colorful people we have met so far, are in this latter group. Wifey, feeling the need to repent, went into the local community church on Sunday. I however stayed on the land and babysat the dog. Passing my Sunday morning with CNN and visiting my old friends at Oddassy. I put a roast in the oven about mid-morning with the thought of slow cooking it so it would be about ready when Becky returned from church. I was just settling down for some gratuitous porn when I hear a noise coming up the driveway. Two of my neighbors, of the southern variety, just dropped by to see if I liked to fish. (Apparently, they do that here, just drop by without calling) We talked for a bit, they assured me that they were the local experts, not only in fishing, but many other things as well. Reluctantionally, I agreed to go with them early the next morning. As promised, they arrived early and we headed for the coast. The brother of one of these gentlemen has a shrimp boat and that is what we were going out on. He was not going to trawl this morning; we were fishing for red snapper at several “secret” spots he knew about. We arrived at this spot and set up to fish, nothing. Not even a nibble, we moved to the next spot after about an hour or so, no snapper, but many croakers. I settled down to satisfy myself with catching these as an alternative. The good old boys decided it was time for a little lunch; so one went down to fix it while we kept an eye on the fish. He comes back with a sandwich on a paper plate and a mason jar of what I assumed was sweetened tea. Lord was I wrong. Being thirsty, I took a big gulp of that “tea”, now gentlemen, I have had some pretty ugly things in my mouth in my lifetime, but this by far was the worst. It tasted like paint thinner and diesel fuel and burnt like cayenne pepper. As my eyes were watering and my tongue started to swell, I was trying to speak and breath at the same time. These two fellows just looked at me and gave me a knowing smile and said” Good Ain’t It” All I could manage to say was “What” ……Oh, that , it’s a little something Larry’s cousin makes. Well, my fishing day was over about now. On the way back in to port, I was reconsidering my choice of not seeking Devine help. I got a pint of milk at the quik stop and drank it on the drive back. We divided up the fish at our place, I thanked them for their hospitality and they were off, still sipping on cousin Larrys juice. The lesson here is obvious, never assume, and never, ever go near homemade beverage. Healing, slowly…………………..jim |
