As you all know, crazy things generally happen to me or in front of me. Or just all around me. I believe I have a magnetic aura for the paranormal or just down right deranged. My usual dreams are the makings of mini-series. The comedy of errors often are so close to reality it becomes hard to distinguish one from the other. Case in point: last week I dreamed I was on a business trip when natural distaster was iminent. I was to be evacuated on a priority basis. I reached the airport and was met by my sister. Carrying a Louis Vuitton suitcase full of our shoes. All individually wrapped so as to insure their safety on the life flight . So real it was scarey.
Since it is now officially autumn, I have begun my ritual of transitional decorating for the long run of holidays that kick off with pumpkins, Halloween goodies, and the race for Thanksgiving. September is the month to start refrigeration of your tulip bulbs for planting on New Years Day if you are going to have any chance of a bloom in Zone 10. My one success story with Tulips in Texas occurred in the spring of Wilbur. I had planted imperial purple tulips and they bloomed on 14 inch stems. Spectacular to say the least. Until I looked outside just as my pig finished digging them all up. Wilbur, the aforementioned pig, had been an impulse purchase on the part of Tom Berenger. Tom tends to take me literally whenever I say I would "love to have" something. Back in the day, Vietnamese Pot Belly Pigs were in vogue and I said, of course " I'd love to have one". On our visit to the fabulous nursery/animal farm, I met my beloved back at the truck as the garden helpers loaded the flats of ill fated bedding plants into my vehicle. I got in and Tom be tells me to close my eyes and get ready for a big surprise. That is when I received a wiggling bundle of potential joy. A little black pig. Wilbur. As soon as the truck engine started, Wilbur let out a squeal that could only be described as the James Brown Car Alarm. It went on for 7 miles. Ok, he doesn't like travel, not going to be a problem. He is going to be my yard pet.Not quite. Wilbur refused to eat so we had to bottle feed him. I have the most beautiful picture of Wilbur wrapped in a baby blanket, taking a bottle, with a proud papa Tom B just beaming. This is about the time Tom B's people started whispering that I was "touched".
I digress. Back to the tulip destruction. Well, there I was watching this porker tear up my pride and joy. Thinking fast, I ran to the garage, grabbed the crab net, raced out the back door and chased the pig all over the yard until I finally snagged the little porkette. Catching my breath, corralling my catch, I suddenly heard loud laughter. It was around this time I realized I was in my underwear. Holding a crab net , with a squealing pig in it. The backyard neighbor was upstairs on his deck and had witnessed the entire capture. This is when the neighbors started whispering "she's different".
Just as I got back in the house, hog in tow, Tom B calls me from the site of the oil well fire just extinguished. I rapidly explained what happened and asked which gun would be my best choice to put this ham down. I never got an answer since the last I heard from Tom was when he dropped the phone laughing and started telling his crew the latest calamity of The Fabulous Ma'am.
I attempted reconciliation with Wilbur by getting him a Nancy Reagan Red harness so we could go for walks. No one informed me that pigs can run like marathon man. Instead of the pleasant stroll I had envisioned, I looked like I was skiing behind this pig.This is when the neighborhood children started saying " I wish we could have a pig". Tom B finally came home and returned Wilbur to the hog pen from whence he came.
So, last night I slept for the first time in 3 days. I was busy in my dream working in my garden ( I know it was a dream because the plants were alive and we had grass. Something that hasn't been seen in Southeast Texas in 6 months) and just digging away. My gardener/life coach, Fernando Lamas, was working side by side. Tom B came out and told me since I had been such a sweetheart he had a special surprise. I opened my front door and there he was. George Strait was on his knees planting tulip bulbs down my front walk. My first reaction was to grab my iPhone, get Fernando in position for his photographer debut , and quickly pose next to George Strait. It was so real, I woke up.
So, I am on the mend. Physically and hopefully mentally. Not getting my hopes up, but a girl can dream. Time to open the new bottle of Warres, sip a little, and then go off to dreamland. I wonder if George has been waiting.
Til later,
I remain,
The Fabulous Ma'am
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