Long chilly day. My sister came over and we took Mom for a chest Xray (routine, prior to next week's visit to the pulmonologist). Sis has peonies in bloom, and she brought a couple to Mom. Since I haven't got a digital camera yet, I couldn't download a pic of the actual ones, but they look something like this:



According to Wikipedia, peonies are the only genus in the flowering plant family Paeoniaceae and native to Asia, southern Europe and North America. They come in a wide variety of colors, from pure white to various shades of pink and purple to blood red, and have a beautiful soft scent that one friend calls "heavenly." She's right.

The old people in the knobs have always referred to them as "piney roses", probably because when they are fully opened they resemble a rose with pinked edges. The ones Sis brought are fully opened and HUGE.

Peonies tend to attract those tiny ants us hillbillies refer to as pissants; I was at a loss to explain this until Auntie came to my rescue. She says the buds are held closed by a sticky sweet substance, and the ants eat this and allow the buds to open.

The peony is a favorite in Asian art. In the same Wiki article, I found this delightful little tidbit, relating to Greek myth:

"Mischievous nymphs were said to hide in the petals of the Peony thus casing this magnificent flower to be given the meaning of Shame or Bashfulness in the Language of Flowers. It was named after Pæon, a physician to the gods, who obtained the plant on Mount Olympus from the mother of Apollo. Once planted the Peony likes to be left alone and punishes those who try to move it by not flowering again for several years. Once established, however, it produces splendid blooms each year for decades." (Taken from The Language of Flowers, edited by Sheila Pickles, 1990)

Peonies are the state flower of Indiana, by a legislative act of 1957.



Thanks to Mom, and my late grandmothers and other older beloved people gone on before, though, they'll always be piney roses to me.

And on that floral note, fair thee well.

Yes. Watermelon. My favorite summer fruit.

Let me backtrack a bit. Normally I will not buy watermelon any earlier than June. Before then I don't find it as sweet and juicy. But last week I was at Wal-Mart shopping with my sister, and she announced, as we passed the display, "I have GOT to have watermelon."

Last year we had few good ones, thanks to the drought. I laughed and gave her my caveat, and told her to let me know if it was good.

I didn't see her again for a few days, but when I did the first thing I asked, after "how is everybody?" was "how was the watermelon?"

"Oh, it was SO GOOD--"

In fact, the Princess, who is usually not an enthusiastic consumer of fruit, ate as much of it as her mommy.

So, the next time I shopped, I bought a wedge. I left it in the fridge a full twenty-four hours before I unwrapped and cut it.

Hmm. Firm flesh, plenty of juice, seedless (well, at least, only those tiny soft white seeds), rich red color--

And then I ate a bite.

AHH! Ambrosia. Love at first bite. Sweet, just a tiny bit crunchy, icy cold, quenching a thirst I didn't know had been lurking in body and soul for a year now--no salt. Salt takes away from the sweetness.

Licking every last drop of juice off my fingers--

Oops. I think I'm gonna stop now. I'm about to begin writing ecstatic, orgasmic watermelon porn.

And on that naughty note, fair thee well.

Another update: Madame and Roscoe have been spotted heading south from San Francisco. A friend from the area phoned Willard to say that the Bud Light truck was spotted just bookin' it for Baja after an APB went out. It seems that, rather belatedly, Anheuser Busch has decided they want the truck back. Madame, we venture to suggest, hasn't drunk her way through the contents of the trailer yet, and will not give them up without a fight. Roscoe, who is a peaceful soul despite several fatal confrontations with revenuers in his youth, probably decided they'd be better off south of the border until she finishes up the Bud Light.

I can see it all now: sneaking down to Tijuana, where Madame will no doubt replenish the money Auntie sent by Western Union by setting up a tent on the nearest beach. There, with sand and spray from the ocean blasting the talcum powder off the crystal ball (it's an American Express crystal ball; she don't leave home without it ), she will take advantage of tourists drowsy from too much sun and tequila, with Roscoe standing by to muscle out the ones who don't like what she sees in the crystal. (That will be most of them.) Fortunately, Madame works for cash on the barrelhead, as we hillbillies say. Whether she works for pesos or greenbacks is still open for debate.

We do have one concern: we haven't had time to check her house and see if she took along the infamous possum fur bikini. If she did, tourism in Tijuana will be ruined for years to come. (Willard suggests that Madame might, instead, turn it into a nudist beach, but I refuse to go there; anyone who has ever seen Madame in the altogether knows it's too vile to contemplate.)

On the other hand, she might decide she prefers Dos Equis to Bud Light and stay awhile.

If so, we'll be at war with Mexico within the month, possibly sooner.



Meanwhile, may I introduce another new member to the Stream, Shakespeare's Beatrice at http://muchadoaboutnothing.blogstream.com/. Like gnostix1, she's a friend from other boards, other places, other times, who likes the fun we're all having here and has decided to join us. Drop by her site when you can--and tell her Fairweather says hi.

And on that worried note (after all, Madame and Roscoe ARE still on the run out there, and may be on the FBI's Ten Most Wanted List by dark--unlawful flight to avoid prosecution), until next time, fair thee well.

Good afternoon, Tuesday--whose virtue is this: you never heard a song called "Blue TUESDAY"--Actually it's not bad here. The sun is bright, the wind is light, and a while ago the house did a little Jello shimmy that may have been a blast at the quarry across the creek or may have been a tiny earthquake--we occasionally have tiny tremors here, although we don't have a major fault line within a few hundred miles--

Anyway, a Madame update: Willard called me awhile ago. She was up early on her rounds and happened to see GOOD MORNING AMERICA was at the Golden Gate Bridge across San Francisco Bay. And--yes, you guessed it--there, back in the crowd, stood Madame and Roscoe. Madame seemed a bit tipsy; Willard said Roscoe caught her by the collar and lifted her off her feet, holding her kicking and screaming in midair until she agreed to move to a safer spot, where she was less likely to pitch headfirst into the bay.



I have a feeling they'll probably take the Alcatraz tour before they get another tank of diesel and hit the road again. I can guarantee the ghosts who inhabit the Rock--even the Birdman and Al Capone himself--will hide out till Madame's gone. Now Roscoe, he looks like he would have fit right in in the bad old days when the island was America's toughest maximum security prison, but Madame will scare them crapless with her attempts to "send them to the light"--and no Aunt Ornery there to straighten out the mess she makes--

One other note this fine PM: I have reactivated my Gimme a Book blog, so please stop by sometime!

And on that note of shameless self-promotion, fair thee well.

Well, part of the back story is that Madame has FINALLY been in touch with us. For awhile there we--Willard, Auntie, and I--were watching the news with our fingers crossed, hoping against hope she wouldn't turn up in connection with any more episodes like the one in St. Louis, when she and that ridgerunnin' brother of hers crashed the gate at Anheuser-Busch.

First, she called Auntie. I happened to be there when she got in touch, interviewing Auntie for the Blogger Inquirer. (Check out http://librarycat.blogstream.com. Is that Auntie not the CUTEST thing in a bonnet?) They were--her and her brother, whose name, it seems, is Roscoe--just outside Omaha, out of diesel fuel (but not Bud Light) and needed money to fill up the truck and go on.

I hadn't checked my email in awhile. This evening, I found this, from early this AM:
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Willard here.
I forgot to tell you, I was watching Good Morning America the other morning when they were showing the third of their seven wonders of America series. Chris Cuomo was at the Grand Canyon showing that clear overlook they built.
OMG that looked like Sadie in the background with a sign saying "Hi Auntie". There was an older roly-poly man with a beard. I did a double-take. The beard was braided. So unless there are two people running around looking like Madame and her ridge-running brother they made it to Colorado. What do these two think they are?? Thelma and Louise????
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The longer I thought about it, the more I thought that A) it probably WAS Madame and Roscoe, but B) nope, I don't think Thelma and Louise will quite work, cause best I remember, neither one of them had a braided beard--and since Sadie's a woman, they can't be doing Butch and Sundance, either. Nor can they be doing Bonnie and Clyde; unless you count beer bottles as a weapon, Madame and Roscoe aren't armed.

That was before I got a phone call from Auntie, though. She was at her boyfriend's and couldn't talk long, but she said that she had been watching GMA the morning they broadcast from the Little Bighorn Battlefield and could have SWORN she saw an old lady with a flower in her hat, standing behind Chris Cuomo, holding a sign that said "HI, AUNTIE" in one hand and a Bud Light in the other.

Well, we don't know where that pair of hillbilly terrorists (remember that poor truck driver back in Maryland? He's STILL in therapy) will turn up next, but we do know this: they didn't drive the diesel off a cliff--

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Meanwhile, may I welcome a new member to Blogstream? He's a friend of mine from other boards, other times, other places, who came over to check out FW and Auntie and decided to join us. His blog is at http://gnostix1.blogstream.com/--and he answers to the name g1. (That's a one, not a lowercase L.) He seems to have encountered some characters who can give Madame a run for her money at the art of the con. Check his blog out--I think he's a great addition!

Until next time, fair thee well!