Do y'all remember going back to school after Labor Day and the first assignment was to write an essay on "What I did this summer."?
That's what I've been working on lately...only with a twist.
Mine will be more like an essay titled "What I didn't do this summer".
To begin with...I haven't done this.
Instead of getting wet in the ocean...where it's cool and relaxing,
I'm getting sweaty cleaning out the barn...where it's hotter than whodathoughtit.
(Oh there's salt on my hair and skin all right.
Just not the smell-good kind...if you catch my drift.
Come any closer...and you will!)
Instead of walking along the shoreline gathering my thoughts and these...
I'm running up and down the highways...my gitalong parked in the poodle seat... gathering this.
Some would argue it's more fun than a barrel of monkeys to ferret out hidden treasures on the back roads of Texas and in the colder months I'd agree...
this summer, seems I got me a real hankerin' to walk barefoot on the sand...
sportin' a fresh French pedicure,
bedecked in my new white eyelet dress,
while flashin' a smile and this.
Sadly my Happy-Birthday-To-Me bracelet and my chance to return starfish to the ocean are temporarily beached.
These days the only things I'm sportin' around the Casita de Trash are a junker's tan, raggedy jeans, and grocery store feet...
and the only sand in my hands is attached to 100-grit paper.
(I keep tellin' myself at least it's not in my underwear, but self replies it's willin' to risk being sawed in half for the smell of salt spray instead of dust!)
~Galveston, oh Galveston. I still hear your sea waves crashing.~Jimmy Webb
(btw...IS SANDY SHORES ANY KIN TO DINAH?)