Our so-called lawn is speckled with these little “violet” flowers. I don’t really know what they are but they come in two color variations, this one and a more solid purple. Although we *do* have a lawn, it is not one of those perfectly immaculate lawns like The Prosecutor’s Mother used to have. Every time I walked by her house at a certain time of day she would be outside, dressed immaculately with nylons and heels and the whole works, picking up miniscule sticks and leaves. I am sure she didn’t handle her whole lawn by herself. She *must* have had a lawn service of some sort. Or else The Prosecutor did her lawn. But I kind of doubt it.

She doesn’t live there any more. Some years ago I walked by her house and her automotive vee-hickle was replaced by a different one and it looked like cleaning/moving activities were going on inside the house. I strongly suspect that she had been moved to a different living situation and is probably on the other side by now. When she was still around, we would chat a *bit* (I am not *usually* much of a chatter) and I could never figure out if she was totally with it or not. She was certainly well “manicured” and well-spoken but my dementia-dar detected something might be amiss.

I don’t want a lawn like The Prosecutor’s Mom had but I have always wondered about a few things about her but didn’t ever ask (because chatting…). Mainly, who is your son? Because I think I know who he was. His kids went to grade school with my kids and my main memory of him was the first day of fourth grade. A bunch of us parents were slugging around outside the classroom whooping it up until the teacher came out and asked us to please move it on down the road. We left and the prosecutor said, “I’ve been getting kicked outta this school for 40 years.”

Today after a long slodge home from Cubelandia, we were sitting outside watching all of the bird activity in our yard. Daddy Robin snagged a grub and the Little Brown Birds were mating. I now know (sorta) what a cloaca is. Do you? I had a good Bird Story to blahg about but by the time I got around to blahgging, I couldn’t for the life of me remember which one it was. You get this one instead.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, May 15th, 2019 at 6:36 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.