Monday, July 4, 2011

Good morning, Harley!

Monday, we slept in a while, sat around talking, and Phoebe's friend Brian stopped by. I could tell right away I didn't care much for him -- He didn't seem entirely there and when she asked him a question it was like he wanted to control how much of the information he wanted to share with her, which was frustrating to her because she can tell he was withholding info she requested to know. He left after a while, but not before I'd stepped into the shower. Afterwards I looked around the property, snapping pics of the mountains, the backyard, her little front porch, Harley walking, Harley sitting, Harley looking at me... It was a misty morning and there was a morning haze across the rolling hills in the distance.

hot and cold

We got cleaned up, and decided it was time for coffee, but being as it was a major holiday, the local coffee shops would be closed.  So we drove to Richmond to Starbucks. I went for hot, Phoebe went for cold, and Screamin' Jay Hawkins was singing through the radio, "I Put A Spell on You."  Caffeinated, I felt a ton better, but overall I was still a little sick from the long road-worn trip.
"I love you anyhow, And I don’t care, If you don’t want me, I’m yours right now. You hear me, I put a spell on you, Because you’re mine" - Screamin' Jay Hawkins, "I Put a Spell on You"
After we got back to the house, we went for a walk down the road, and met the neighbors' alpacas and a llama. The alpacas were the cutest little creatures, but ol' Harley dog was protective and wanted to bark them away.  I took pictures nonetheless. There was also a grey horse on the other side of the fence, a pretty sight for a camera lens. The knobs were a dark green against a bright and sunny sky, and I took just too many pictures to remember by....

squash, corn hole toss, and burgers

After a while it was finally time to head into town to meet Brian, Bill, Tiffany, Jimmy, and Crystal for a Fourth of July cookout. When we finally found the right place without much directional help from Brian, we had some beer, wine, pigs-in-blankets, pasta, and watched fireworks being shot off all around us. The city's fireworks could be seen just over the treeline, and a zealous citizen had some big ones being shot from his backyard a few houses down from the cookout. It wasn't long before Phoebe and I grew tired Jim (the 54-year-old rude man who proudly proclaimed he was rude and thus obviously thought it was a favorable attractive trait to women). Phoebe had brought her poi, and with a little friendly coaxing, some of her friends persuaded her to do a little fire dancing. I took some pictures, and didn't get a chance to record any of it.

Berea Fireworks

Phoebe said we should go to Lesa's house because Bev would be there soon, so off in the car we went across town to a sprawling neighborhood. Here we find cobalt blue bottles, a pretty little white dog named Piper, and, well, something I can't talk about. I finally convince Phoebe that she needs to eat; She'd drank some wine at the cookout, but I never saw her eat. So Lesa feeds to four of us: Wheat thins, smoked turkey and roast beef, cheese, guacamole, and sherbert. Phoebe fire dances again so that the citronella fuel is used up.

Phoebe, fire dancer

And then Brian appears again and we leave to head home. I'm annoyed at him; He drives very close behind me all the way back to the house, and though it is unnecessary, he comes in and stands around. He only needed to pull back out of the driveway, waving, to see that we got safely home. So he stands and watches us get settled into the house, and he smokes a cigarette on the back porch with Phoebe. He leaves, finally, and we go to sleep, me on the couch under a quilt with the air conditioner unit cooling the room quickly, her into her room full of clothes hanging on the walls, in the closets, dresser, and growing mountains.