the hunt

AAAhhhhh! Spring. Everything looks good again and my lease on life is renewed. I'm slowly becoming convinced that it is, in fact, spring. Cautiously, I remove myself from beneath the rimy ice anvil that has been hanging above my head since moving to Illinois and stare at the blooms in disbelief. The calendar peeled from March to April, and suddenly it's time to file my tax extension again. It's official.

So often my perception of time is like this; my birthday is here, then christmas, suddenly it's three days after Jason's birthday and no one said anything, then Rainer turned 2, and it's going to blow my mind how fast July comes, bringing with it Fox's 6th birthday. Like a rock skimming the rippled surface of water, time careens onward. Oh wait; maybe it's me careening through time. No, then what would represent my experiences? Maybe my I am the rock, time is the pool, and the ripples are my experiences. But if that's the case shouldn't the pool be my life, the ripples my experiences, and the rock time? No. So what, I'm a rock skimming over my own life?

Anyway, the bottom line is this: Time flies in retrospect. Pausing and recollecting memories forces a person to not only abbreviate the extent of the situation, but to minimize "unremarkable" periods of time, which can account for the skimming sensation.

Spring makes me evaluate these ideas. It just seems to come so often, and each spring my family and I set out on search of morel mushrooms. It's something we all enjoy enough to have fun, and it gives us an imperative to spend lots of time outside in the emerging forest. Those of you with families know how tricky it is to find things to do that everyone enjoys. Spending time together can become another job if there aren't common interests and passions.

Morel mushroom hunting is an antidote to the cruel, skimming rock of life. Searching for morels involves lots of patience, attention, and stamina. Spending three hours in the woods just looking around you; silently searching and noticing, remembering a tree, a creek, following a bird, straining to hear voices whisper in the wind... These activities do not fly by, but command a level of experience that actually communes with time face to face; the unchanging changing, the things which remain constant, yet change,that aren't relative to age or dates, unparalleled with any human construct.

We began hunting very early, despite our assessment that Illinois would be at least three or four weeks behind what we were used to. There were five or six trips before we found the first mushroom. As an adult I am able to enjoy these fruitless searches, but as you can imagine the children didn't share my attitude. The second trip was the hardest for my 5 year old son. He remembers the gleamingly abundant times in our past hunting trips at the mention of the word 'morel', so he compares every trip with those embellished times. Looking for hours and finding nothing is a paradoxical torment for a child. We can only hope that these are exercises in patience and stick-to-itedness for the kids, otherwise I expect to have two future city dwellers on our hands.

Hunting in Illinois was such a change from Tennessee and North Carolina. Granted, we had patches in the southernmost states which we knew well; close in proximity to our homes so we could check them in a matter of minutes and know if it would be worthwhile to drag the kids out. As new residents we started looking in the only public forests we knew of. Homer Lake, Crystal Lake Park, Kickapoo state park, and other urban parks. We searched and found so many interesting things that weren't mushrooms. While searching the littered woods of Chief Shemauger park we came across the East Lawn Cemetery; a large garden which was evidently established in 1927. We found very old markers that had eroded to the lowest trenches of the yard and were being used as retaining walls in some sections. There were many gravestones that were overturned and smooth with age and abrasion. There were stones from the early 1800s. Much of the trash in the wooded area of Chief Shemauger park consisted of gravesite decor blown over from the cemetery. The wind makes a dump of any wooded or brushy area up here. People help, but it is amazing at the number of plastic bags and bud light boxes out in the middle of a prairie.

Since Homer Lake is the closest to our residence we checked it most. The most remarkable thing about this place was the number and variety of condom wrappers in the parking lot. I noticed one the first time I ever went there. The next visit just a few weeks later I noticed another, then yesterday when we went there was another, different condom wrapper. We ended up finding about 10 or 12 morels on the river bank above the lake, then another 10 in the meadowy forest above the banks. We were thrilled. The first place we found morels in Illinois was at the Kickapoo State park in Vermilion County. As we approached the park from the west we noticed a huge wind farm was being built on the prairie. The parking area was a small gravel lot set off of a county road, and the place really reminded me of East Tennessee. Especially this place on the corner of Hank and Bocephious:

The parking area was littered, as seems to be the norm, but this time with surgical gloves. An entire box of them had blown out and were all knotted up in the grasses. The area we explored was established as horse trails and the path lead through apple trees around a ridge, then went steeply into the river ravine. It was really lovely. We searched the area meticulously and found nothing. Rainer and I were heading towards the river since she was tired of being lugged around, and as I set her down on the clearing at the river's edge I saw the first crummy morel.

We found 15 or 20 there. That was our third trip to Kickapoo this season, and the first two visits we parked in other places; with 2,842 acres of reclaimed strip mines there is lots to explore and see there.All the pits have been filled with water by the river and springs and are now big recreation areas. One of our prior visits Fox found a near complete deer skeleton. He was entranced. We hiked down the hill and found a few more large bones and blades that had been dragged off by animals. Fox became obsessed with reconnecting the remains. He ran up and down the steep bank with his arms full of bones. Yelling directions to the rest of us, speculating on the animal's death... He is a little science nerd.We didn't find any morels that time. We did see some guys fishing with a radical homemade slayer decal made using electrical tape, though.

We didn't hit it big till we came home to Asheville for Easter. My husband (that's Dr. Jason Robinson PhD to you)had to be in Knoxville the week before to defend his dissertation at the University, so we decided to blur the appointment with the Easter holiday and go straight from Knoxville to Asheville. He had planned his defense according to last year's morel calendar, so we were expecting to hit our old spots just in time. After striking out in our "sure thing" patch, we proceeded to our neighborhood spot and looked there, also unsuccessfully. We went to another place and found some shitty remnants of morels that looked to be a couple of weeks old. Morels bloomed 2-3 weeks early this year almost everywhere. My typical gauge is to start looking when the dogwood flowers open, but with the early heat, all notions went out the window. One of our patches in Knoxville is in the woods beside the house our friends used to rent, so when we go we are trespassing. There is a close-knit community who rented the house to our friends, and they reside on down the gravel road beyond the rental. There are many children between the houses, and when we used to hunt we would run into their hideouts and secret, creek places. This is their newest instillation:

I was impressed not just with their resourcefulness, but their workmanship. As I recall there were two smallish girls, probably 8 and 10 years old now. They did some heavy lifting and over-head hammering to construct the roof on their shanty.

After striking out all over Knoxville, we were feeling defeated. During our brief spell in Knox we did, however, get to spend some quality time with our friend Lee, and his sidekick, Terry.

Had I realized how much I would miss Lee after our move I would have savored those last few weeks living next to the guy. As we pulled up, I saw Lee in his yard with his friend Terry, who has dialysis three times a week nearby and usually comes to Lee's house afterwards and sits on his porch swing. Lee looked up and recognized my truck, and he started laughing and tore the hat off his head. I hopped out, momentarily leaving the kids strapped in their safety seats, and met Lee in an embrace in his driveway. It was so great to see him.

The next day, after Jason's defense, he and I went to see Lee again and to talk to the guy renting our house. It was as if nothing had changed, and no time had passed. His cousin came over and visited with us for a while, another friend, Duncan came by. Lee had a fire and moonshine in the middle of the damn day. As we were standing around talking Jason (naturally) noticed a ton of bees in Lee's yard, and realized that there was a rogue queen bee in the grass. She was huge, and all the other bees were swarming around her, just 10 feet from where we were hanging out. Lee has everything, even a swarm of bees. Lee's bees. Lee's cousins keep bees, so he called them and told them to get them suits an come over here quick! They weren't able to come immediately, since it was in the middle of a workday, but they said they would come out after work if they were still swarming.

We went to Asheville and spent lots of time with our awesome family and ate ham and chocolate. After getting an Easter basket from my mom, Fox opened a hollow chocolate bunny and broke it in half. Inhaling deeply, he stuck his nose inside the hollow bunny head and said "Mmmmmm it smells so good in there".

Jason's Aunt hosted an easter egg hunt for all her sister's grandchildren in Burnsville at her home, and we went a little bit early so we could look around there. We went up in the woods on the mountain side where an old lumber road was cut, zig zagging across the steepest parts. Hunting for morels became just picking morels! We dragged the kids around for an hour or so till Jason's parents arrived and the egg hunt started. They took the kids back down to the house and Jason and I stayed on the mountain, raking in morels as fast as we could. As I would spot one and kneel to pick it, I would spot five more! Careful attention to footing was necessary not to step on them. In two and a half hours we picked 650 morels. Two Ingles bags full. We have never seen such an abundance, and I think it was the high point of the break for Jason, outranking hustling a Jamaican pool shark AND earning a PhD.

After a trip like that it will be very difficult for Fox to simply enjoy the hunt in the future.

We moved far away

Things are changing. It's springtime, it costs a bajillion dollars to fill up my gas tank, and we have moved to central Illinois. From the casual reader's end I guess this sounds sudden; brash maybe, but it was planned, sorta. And we weighed our options, briefly. It was in our favor to move and get on with the damn show, we decided during the course of the six weeks prior to the move. Opportunities like this one have been in short supply the past few years, and when a reasonable one presented itself to my husband, he had no trouble seizing it, punching it in the face repeatedly, then dragging it back to his cave where he feasted upon it's meaty carcass.

Other than the obvious inconveniences, our move has been bucolic. We found a picturesque rental property that's dignified without being overly imposing; nothing beyond the realm of what we could repair, erase, or otherwise reverse. Our children behave as if they had always lived in Illinois; discussions of Abraham Lincoln's superior leadership and the disappearing prairie landscape are as natural as the rising sun. Our son arrived into his new school and immediately had new friends, new mentors, and a new bus number. There were virtually no glitches.

The home we own in Knoxville was successfully rented to a professional couple. A couple who had hosted a departmental party a number of years ago at their previous residence, which my family and I attended. The home was tidy and their furnishings were thoughtful. We were thrilled to have them in our home and hoped they would be comfortable there, comfortable even after they inevitably met their new neighbor, Lee. We weren't close friends with the pair; Jason was acquainted with them through the university, so we don't communicate with them outside of rental details and queries. We are both consumed with curiosity regarding their unavoidable relationship with Lee.

Life in the midwest is contrastive by function. Living in a town of 1200 people 15 miles from the metropolis dictates much of our daily activity. Our village has the absolute bottom line of commercial enterprise, including an insurance sales office, a local bank branch, a hair salon, a saloon which serves bar fare, a tanning salon, a furniture refinishing place that doesn't have store hours, a store that sells random items that doesn't have regular hours, a local post office, a small library*, a gas/ convenience station, and finally, during the months of April through September, a homemade ice cream stand. Each day I walk to the post office to check my mail, go to the park, then go on a long walk from one end of the town to the other. Generally I walk south and cross the railroad track, then turn left until I get to the next county road, then turn left again to Main street as it turns back in to a county road at the east end of town. This is where the corn fields begin to the east. My daughter in a stroller, I then walk west on Main a mile till the sidewalk ends at more cornfields. Sometimes we then walk north to a stream where there are trees and reeds, sometimes we walk south past the corn processing place and water processing plant. The water tower bearing the town's name overhead, we watch the trains fly by.

Having neither friends nor options to recreate in a social, non-church environment has created a strange and unfamiliar dynamic in my life. The acquaintances I have made have been through these few establishments; the postmistress, the librarian, the young woman who owns the tanning salon... We are all somehow busy in this trace of a town. Even if I actively took the opportunity to make friends out of these casual encounters, I'm not sure it would be possible to contrive. The librarian has three children ranging in age from 2 to 19. The postmistress is retired, then gone back to work. The neighbor immediately next to me has 9 children with another on the way AND she home schools, AND they are bible translators. Across the street is a lady who has a home day care and her house is crammed with children of all ages, and cars come in and out so much her lawn looks like a parking lot. Anyone can see that these people are busy, and none of them want any more kids around, I speculate. All of this makes me think of my old neighbor, Lee, and I remember how annoying he was. Annoying, but friendly, and almost always available to chat. When we left Knoxville and said goodbye to Lee, I cried like an exhausted baby. Here is his goodbye letter.

Anyway. I'm certain this place will eventually feel like home. Sometimes I'll see a fat man in overalls cruise by on a moped, or a man pushing a wheelbarrow full of garbage and I think I wonder if there is another "Lee" in this town?.

*Library Hours Monday, 9:00 a.m. - 12 noon, 4:00 p.m. - 7:00 p.m. Tuesday, 9:00 a.m. - 12 noon, 4:00 p.m. - 7:00 p.m. Wednesday, 9:00 a.m. - 12:00 noon, 4:00 p.m. - 7:00 p.m. Thursday, 9:00 a.m. - 12 noon, 4:00 p.m. - 7:00 p.m. Friday, 9:00 a.m. - 12 noon, 4:00 p.m. - 7:00 p.m. Saturday, 9:00 a.m. - 12:00 noon

I'm venting

Lee has been 100% reflective of these trying times. A few weeks ago his buddy, T for short, came by and told Lee that his wife was in the hospital for a chronic breathing problem and she had to quit smoking. T is an undaunted, life smoker, and at anytime he has a cigarette in his hand and at least one unopened pack in his breast pocket. He carries a pistol, uses only cash, and went to jail for his involvement in a cock fighting ring. A tough type of man who I was shocked to discover was married.

Lee was upset by the news and vowed to T that he was going to quit smoking. When he was recounting this tale to me he explained that she wasn't going to make it if she couldn't quit smoking, and that the doctors wouldn't even treat her if she continued. I asked if the doc had prescribed patches to help her quit, and Lee said; "Oh yeah, T said he give'er th' reel strong wuns an put 'em all over her back" He motioned helplessly towards the sky, then put his hand to his forehead, shaking his head. Lamenting about how though he had only met her once, she seemed like a nice person and she had a really nice car that she made payments on "ever'month on time" and was real good to T. Then in a defeated kind of voice he said, "so Jill since I'm quittin an'all lemme get a few uh them Camels" I said "But you are quitting, right?" Angrily he boomed back in a condescending draw, "Yeah that's what I'm a'sayin! I'm tryin' t'quit but I've been smoking since I was a kid probably forty years so's I can't just stop! Ya can't just stop when you been smokin that long Jill!"

I reluctantly gave him one cigarette and told him he could get some patches. He tried to be appreciative of the single I had given him and chuckling said "I figure I can get me one [cigarette] here er there an use 'at cigarette money tuh get an extra bag uh gange an uh pint more uh t'at moo moo ever'month!"

The next evening he came over while we were eating dinner. We were having spaghetti and meatballs and I was having a glass of wine. Lee entered carrying a paper package like a pizza and he had a huge knife in his back pocket. The first thing that he said (yelled) was "Oh hell! Jill's already on the alcohol! DAYYAM!" Laughing loudly as his eyes darted around the kitchen, I told him that he could have a glass of it if he wanted and aimed him toward the box that it came in. "naw thanks you know I can't drink 'at red wine. I gotta have my moo moo! (laughter) At'stuff gives me heartburnacid'n'digestion. Caint drink it. What I'gotta have is that good, clean moonshine my cussins make" Lee then brought the paper bag carefully up to face level and said "All right now guess what I've brought chall! Don't chall never say I don't bring yuh nuthin cuz I do. You know I've been helpin' feed them kids" With a Vanna White-esque motion he waved his hand over the package, then inserted it into the bag. With a shaky hand he removed a frozen key lime pie and honked a noise alerting us of a prize being won. Fox immediately asked if it was chocolate, and after learning it wasn't he said; "you can have that icy pie cause I like chocolate pie".

Never being a big fan of non-chocolate desserts myself either, I said "hmm. Thanks Lee" Very animatedly Lee pulled the butcher knife from his back pocket, put the pie on the table in the middle of our supper, and hacked it in two, returning part into the mystical paper bag. Glancing down at my children Lee asked "Hey Jill where you keeping those things?" He then started feeling around above the hutch to the secret place I stash my smokes. I shot him a dirty look as he took a handful of cigarettes and stuffed them into his pocket. Fox said "what was that Lee??? What did you take??" Lee laughed and acted like he was some sort of magician and said something like "Oh hell Foxy you can't get by old Lee, hehehe!! You ain't seen nothin did'ge? You'll NEVER get one by me son!"

I didn't try to hide my annoyance with him; Lee is well aware that I hide my smoking from my children, and that I usually have a pack for a month, smoking only if they're not around. He smokes the shittiest, dirtiest, hand-rolling tobacco available, and he smokes constantly. He has zero tact about taking other people's cigarettes and I've watched him smoke twelve out of a woman's pack while she wasn't paying attention, then take the remaining one when he left. Jason admitted that he had given Lee cigarettes a few times over the past week. He said that the first few times he offered him one which he immediately smoked as he and Jason were talking, then asked for "one more for th'road", which Jason obliged, for some reason. Then later when Lee outright insisted on his giving him 2 Jason refused and tried to explaining that he was smoking more of my stash than I was. Jason said Lee was indignant and insinuated that we were being stingy then tried to recount all of the blessings he had bestowed upon us. Jason stopped him and told him that he had bought that pack two weeks prior for almost six bucks and that I had only smoked three of the whole pack. He then held the pack to show Lee that there were four or five left and clarified that Lee had smoked them all. Then reminded him that he was supposed to be quitting. In honor of T's wife.

A few days ago Lee walked across the street and threw a filthy laundry basket into my yard. "Here ye go Jill! I thought you cud'use a basket for warshin' all them clothes. I had sum bike motor parts in'thar an that's what that is. Oil. Jus needs tuh be warshed out"

I told him that I owned four (non-oily) laundry baskets and I didn't need that one. He ignored me and walked off so I put it into my recycling bin so the kids didn't touch it and get even oilier. A few days later I noticed Lee had removed the basket from the recycling bin, fashioned it into a basketball goal and attached it to a tree in his yard. He had also taken a few loads of gravel from our parking area and leveled the area beneath the goal, and taken a few loads of mulch from our mulch pile for the surrounding area. When I returned from the YMCA he had dragged an old piece of linoleum to cover the mulch and gravel, and was standing there bouncing a ball, proud as hell.

We got out of the car and Lee said "Look'et whut I done! This is whar' th'NBAs is gonna be yall!" The kids looked at Lee bouncing the ball and shooting for a while. Fox retrieved the ball for Lee a couple of times before it rolled down our road, then said "Look Lee! The ball will roll all the way down the road when you miss"

Later that day Lee had gathered some cable left in the ditch by the telephone company and made a zig-zagged barrier just behind the goal post. When Fox saw it he was thrilled. "Nice halloween decoration Lee!! It needs a big black spider in the middle of it and a mummy!", Fox yelled. By this time Lee had begun to think he was being made fun of by a child and started for the ball. Fox was singing "spider man, spi-der man" to the tune of the A-Team song, and climbing on the cord mesh, tight rope style. "Foxy git'off thare! Aat's all th'wire I could find down thar an if you break it AIT'S IT" At that moment the volleyball sized knot Lee had tied slipped and Fox tumbled onto the cushy linoleum pad. The tension in the web was lost, shitty cords draped lifelessly around the trees.

Lee had began yelling and continued through the course of the spectacle; total devastation crusted on his face, and seemed ruined as Fox pulled his shoe off to free himself of the cable. "Say you're sorry Fox" I ordered. "Sorry Lee. I can help you fix it cause I've got seven bungee cords and some of mom's yarn", Fox offered, then sprinted away. Lee couldn't remain angry.

Here's a super spooky picture:

This bag wants to party

A couple of weeks ago Lee came over to my house, boisterous and jovial, bearing a pint jar of moonshine and some odd, food pantry items. His cousins had finished another batch of liquor, and life was good again.

After insisting that I try a sip, he explained that he was afraid that Jason was going to poison me with the muscadine wine "he'd mixed up" and that he wanted me to have "sumthin' good-n-safe t'drank on"

As it happened, Jason and I were bottling the wine that very night, and had a few people over to try it in it's youth. We had a total of 10 liters of wine in the house, and no one was interested in mixing wine and moonshine. (again)

Pretending to sip the moonshine, I expressed my approval and thanked Lee for the pantry gifts. (instant mashed potatoes, powdered milk, gravy mix, rice, THREE POUNDS of dried cherries). I was not surprised to find out later that all of the food had been donated by the Methodist church's food pantry to Lee's friend, who then brought it to Lee in exchange for some substance.. and after Lee took the items he was interested in ("sum lederhosen sausages, a couple'uh'em corn cake mixes, an sum beefaroni cans") he passed the rest to us in a care package. Oh yeah, there was also a new dish towel in the box. ?

Lee crossed the street to his house where his friends had arrived, and we heard every elevated word exchanged between them for the rest of the night.

The next day, Lee didn't emerge till sometime after 3:30pm when he was seen rinsing something in the faucet outside of his house. Fox and I were working in the yard while Rainer napped, and I was glad Lee didn't come explain what was going on. Every time he comes within 10 feet of the house while Rainer is sleeping she wakes up, and most of his "morning-after" stories include an assessment of last night's libations based on his morning bowel movement. Information I could do without.

A few hours later Lee knocked on the door and was clearly drunk. He asked to borrow a can of tomatoes, told me he loved me, then went back to his house where there were four or five cars parked.

Jason and I had dinner, got the kids to bed, and were preparing to go to bed ourselves when I heard noises on the porch and Lee's trademark knock.

Lee bounded into the house as if one Leg was longer than the other, and started speaking in a tongue similar to that of an auctioneer at a barnyard auction. I cringed, imagining the kids were fearing the end of the world, and gestured for Lee to lower his voice.

"Five dollars! Here, take it, take this!!"

Lee was waving a ten dollar bill at me, aiming it towards my hand and jerking his head in the direction of the kitchen.

"Listen! Listen Jeel. Here's five dollar, YOU give ME a five an that moo moo I give yee. Y'hear me? I give you five, YOU give ME five, an at's for the moo moo"

His instructions became more frantic and quantitative; involving on the spot estimates about the cost of a pint of moonshine (based on the $25/a jar figures) and his level of intoxication became evident.

Still unclear about his intentions, I was able to determine that it was the moonshine he had given me in the care package that he wanted. Still untouched, I retrieved it from the freezer and gave it to him, refusing the "five" ten dollar bill in his hand.

His demeanor shifted, and his hands met each other as if in prayer.

"Thank ye Jeel! Man, I dropped my lass jar uh moo moo an I'm in the middle uh partyin! I thought I'd killed it then membered bout th pint I give ye. I giv'ye five dollars for it, but I jus got a ten."

Ah. The $5/$10 conundrum became clear to me. I told him that I didn't have cash and to just keep it, that he had given it to me so it was mine to give away, but he refused. He left the ten on the mantle and returned to his party.

The next day Lee was full of apologies, and I insisted that it was perfectly fine, but he felt guilty about taking the gift back.

"I'll make it up to you Jeel. Somehow".

Sunday Lee came to the door with a huge smile on his face and a wadded bag in his hand. Unable to contain his excitement, he pulled a jar of maraschino cherries from the wad, and handed it to me in the manor of handling the holy grail.
In a hilarious, sarcastic tone Lee exclaimed;

"Check it out Asian Ninenine! I tole you I'd get cha'back! These'll be ready to eat in three days. They'll be RIGHT!"

I thanked him for the moonshine cherries and asked if they go in the fridge or the freezer, and he thanked me again for "spottin him that pint", then headed for the door. Before he left he said;

"One more thing; could'ja do me another favor an write me a letter to the lectric company. I's $29.19 short this month on the light bill cuz I was sick lass month an had to spend money on cough'n cold medicine an I need to tell em I'll pay it back next time. You know, for January's bill. See really I's jus drinkin on that moo moo an spent all my money on it. I can't hardly see or spell to write somethin like at. I don't need it till tomorrow."

I told him that I would.

The letter went something like this:

To Whom it may concern,


Due to sickness and the associated expenses this payment is incomplete by the sum of $29.19. This amount will be paid along with the January 2011 bill as a past due amount.


Regretfully,

The next day he came over for the note. Clearly impressed with the typed letter, Lee said

"Thanks Jeel. Printed an all. Jew eat some uh them cherries?"

I told him that I hadn't since he said they wouldn't be "cured" for another day or so, and he said;

"Well hell, Jeel! You never do what I say till now! I'd been into'em already"

my summer, or summerlee

Thinking back over the past few months is a sweet, hot, quick blur of a memory. My gorgeous daughter was born in March, and that's when everything got crazy. It was actually crazy before that, but having a newborn baby makes every little thing seem like a scene from a movie; a movie you have a major, non-acting role in. Like "Key Grip" or "Best Boy" or "Director" or some crap like that.


After my little girl was born it took forever for me to get back on my feet. Following her surgical birth, I got mastitis in both breasts. TMI, I know, but mastitis is no joke! I was on serious pain meds, plus 800mg of motrin every 6 hours, so the fever and pain didn't appear until the middle of the night when I would wake up in a cold sweat. I chalked it up to the healing process and didn't get treated till a month after the horrid bacteria had set up shop in my junk. It was awful. Luckily the antibiotics worked their moldy magic and it cleared up within 10 days. When I began feeling better it was like having a new lease on life. Everything was fun and exciting after looking at the inside of my house for a month. We collected morels and went to gigs; Rainer went on her first camping trip when she was just 2 months old. I was up for anything.


Fox had his 4th birthday in July and we had a last minute party for him. Little kid birthdays are great because you can do whatever you want, invite whomsoever you want, and prepare whatever you want. Later birthdays will likely be full of the weird parents of children your kid happens to know. No kegs. No BB guns. No carnitas with lime and cilantro. We set up the baby pool and let the kids run wild. Lee showed up and decided to take a dip.



Jason's band "CATFISH MERCURY LOAD" played tons: Ijams Fest, Amp Fest, First Friday at Oodles, Bethfest, Kemmer's Annual BBQ Bluegrass Jam... It was great! Every weekend was busy. Amp Fest was a benefit for Mountain Justice in downtown Knoxville. The festival was in the parking lot of a block of bars, nothing but pavement and broken beer bottles. We told Lee about it and he promised that he would come. After a few hours he showed up on his bike with a crumpled paper bag shoved in his pants-pockets. From my face painting table I watched him arrive, take the bag out, open it and start eating M and Ms by the handful. I was relieved that it was chocolate and not pot.

In no time Fox had sensed the presence of candy and found Lee. Fox had been playing in a dusty parking lot at 90 degrees for hours and was filthy. When Lee saw Fox the look on his face was priceless. Pure disgust mixed with disappointment. He wouldn't give Fox any candy and wrapped it back up in the paper bag and put it back in his shorts, scolding him all the way. He forced Fox over to the outdoor bar and removed his bandanna. He flooded it with ice water from the cooler on the bar and proceeded to give Fox a whores bath right there in front of the crowd. I didn't get a picture of the bathing, but I did get this one of Lee's arrival which I thought was artful, what with the satellite dish on the side.





The entire summer was smattered with events like this one. Parties, gigs, weddings, visits; very little work got done, but it was too hot to work outside anyway. The only real work that went on occurred after each of the appliance disasters we experienced. First the TV went, then the heat pump, then the washing machine, then the ice maker, then the hot water heater.. It was a remarkable chronology of bad luck. We fixed the A/C, replaced the heat pump and the washer, and shit-canned the ice maker and the TV. No one got sick or arrested, so we were able to chalk our bad fortune up to poor quality consumer products.





I did manage to do a little sewing last month. Before then I hadn't sewn since early in my pregnancy; probably last October. Except for a little project I did for Lee. He came over one day with his favorite Superman T-shirt, and his "over-hauls". As he walked in the house was filled with the warm aroma of a smoldering cigarette butt.

Lee explained his idea for modifying his garments and asked if I could do it for him. This entailed cutting the "S" Superman emblem from the T-shirt and sewing it onto the bib of his "over-hauls". I told him that I would do it.

He said "Thanks a lot Jill, you know I'll make it up to you somehow. I just need tuh get it done b'fore tonight. I'm gonna ride my bike downtown an go see 'at show"

I wasn't sure what show he was referring to, but I figured an outfit like that is appropriate for any event or occasion.





Fox thought it was the coolest thing he had ever seen and immediately wanted to change his overalls to match Lee's. I said no. Not till he fully outgrew his Superman tank.

MaternalLee

Pregnancy does hilarious things to a gal. She gets huge and grouchy; hates things she once loved and is compelled to consume revolting foods like V8 vegetable juice and Spaghetti-os. I experienced the rainbow of conditions and symptoms associated with pregnancy this time around, but never realized that relating with my neighbor, Lee would fall into one of those categories.

Things slow down when a woman becomes pregnant, and life's demands are reassessed. For me, all forms of exercise came to a halt, my otherwise healthy diet took a back seat to whatever garbage I could eat without puking, and my obsession with a clean kitchen became more of a theory. Complications early in the pregnancy prevented me from doing anything involving cardiovascular force. The most exertion I expelled was with my 3 year old; lifting him and kicking the soccer ball around, kicking him and lifting the soccer ball.. That type of thing. Around month 5 I began having dreams about sprinting through a grassy meadow, legs extended with the wind blowing my hair and clothes. As I remembered myself my footing became sludgy, and my sprint soon became more like armless swimming. I awoke feeling sad and heavy, looking forward to birth in a whole new way. It occurred to me that my neighbor, Lee and I had more in common physically than we ever had before.


Lee's physique is a geometric and physical conundrum. The angles created by his belly and his hip/upper thigh area are perplexing. The tight drum that is his stomach has the same qualities as a pregnant belly. Pale, silvery stretch marks around the flattened navel, protuberance at the fundus beyond that which seems possible. The harsh meeting of the lowest part of the belly to the groin... Pants which refuse to suspend themselves at an appropriate level revealing a plumber's crack/gangsta sag in tandem. Shirts that don't quite button over the midsection and won't cover the bottom 3 inches of the stomach. All of this occurred to me one afternoon as we were both engaged in the same activity: sitting in the yard doing nothing.

Months 6-9 of my pregnancy were spent in discomfort. My usual activities of gardening, biking, running, hiking and swimming were replaced with sitting, reclining, waddling, and lifting 3 lb dumbells. I was trapped in my body and the least amount of activity made my uterus contract, my round ligaments ache and my sciatic nerves zap themselves into a frenzy, sending lightning pains through my lower back into my knees. I longed to have my body back and promised to work hard at being healthy and fit as soon as the baby came. I noticed that Lee complained about his back and knees all the time. He has a bike that he rides to the store and the library that is electric, but he still has to pedal it up steep hills. Amazing. How could someone with the weight distribution of a reverse weeble-wobble manage to position them self on a bike AND pedal it uphill? I couldn't even look at my bike when I was pregnant. Just seeing the seat made my pelvis ache. I decided to offer Lee a ride whenever I went out.


The next day Fox and I were leaving the house on our way to the library, and Lee was milling around his yard with a backpack. I asked him if he wanted to come to the library with us and he said yes, as long as I would take him by the tobacco outlet and the grocery store. We left the house and were driving down Island Home Avenue when Lee yelled "HEY SLOW DOWN UP HERE!"

I slammed on the breaks imagining I had either hit an animal or hauled ass past a cop, but Lee continued, "Jus up here one er two more houses... THARE! That house right thare!"

He pointed toward a tiny house with a covered porch and a steep driveway.

"Pull up in thare" He demanded.

I slowly eased the truck into the driveway and wondered what we were doing there when Lee explained; "Back in the 70s I put a new toilet in 'at house. I knew th'man who owned it an he give me a lawnmower t'fix at bathroom up"

As I sat there looking at the house, I realized that Lee was relishing the moment. As strange of a point of interest as it was, I completely understood Lee's motivation. He was including me in his life history with an explanation. He continued the story of the man, and how he knew him through his grandmother who lived in Vestal. The man had a few houses in the area that he rented out, and his grandmother lived in one of his properties. He wanted to drive to Vestal to show me his grandmother's old place, but we didn't have time.

Lee told me that one time, back in the 70s, his friend had a baby that refused to nurse and went 17 days without eating. He ordered her to take that baby "up 'ere an see my grandmother", so they went seeking advice about the starving infant. Within a few minutes of their arrival, Lee's grandmother discovered that the baby's tongue was malformed preventing the child's ability to suck. She gave the baby some sort of sustenance and went with it's mother to the hospital. Lee then told me the name of the baby, and I realized that he was still in communication with the child and his mother. The baby's name is Christian, and he is now 12 or 13 years old. Lee invites him and his mother over to eat supper with him a couple times a week and feels responsible for the kid in some way. He even built the kid a bike. As dangerous as that bike is, how wonderfully touching is it that Lee felt like giving it to this kid. He said that he had to "look after 'em" since his granny saved his life.

Feeling teary and sentimental, I told Lee that he was a great friend to Christian and his mother, and to Jason, Fox and I. He looked at me like I had just punched myself in the face and had a bloody nose, then thanked me for the ride and hopped out of the car.

Don't Fuck with the Natives, or Lee's Rant about 'nam

My Music Media Box

Indo Music Code Generator by musik-live.net

Brace yourselves. This is a bizarre monologue by Lee. Don't read any farther, just listen.


Here's what happened:

Jason walked over to Lee's house the other night to return some plates he had left at our house, and realized he had his his voice recorder in his breast pocket. As soon as he walked in Lee began this explanation of why he never received the millions of dollars which he told everyone about. Those of you who have followed this blog know all about this, those who haven't might enjoy the recording for the sheer drama. Any archived blogs tagged with "wacky neighbor", "crazy neighbor", "lee" or any combination might provide an informed backdrop for those interested, but I'll admit that no amount of information will make this make sense.


The general idea is that while on missions in Afganistan and Vietnam, Lee killed an unstated number of people in a lagoon of some sort, blinded a man-eating, Taliban owned lion with an explosive hen carcass crammed full of "red oak saw dust and broken glass", and was able to manage with the help and direction of an Arapaho Indian Chief.


Because he was committed to the Natives for blessing him with his powers and abilities, he was unable to confront the government regarding the money they owed him for completing this mission. After participating in a Sundance ritual, Lee received a Native Blessing of the "Blue Lights", which have followed him around ever since. Lee has hundreds of these "mystical orb" photographs, and believes them to be Native Spirits protecting him, but when he sees them in photographs of other people, he believes they are negative or otherwise unclean spirits.

He believes that the government has began to realize his connection with the Natives, and that the Native's philosophy of the "circle of life" is preventing the completion of the agreement between the NSA and himself.

Finally, since three of the bodies in the lagoon have been discovered, the success of the mission is clear, prompting the government to finally pay up. Lee mentions that he knows the money is coming since he saw one of the government agents responsible for accounts payable featured in an Olive Garden commercial.

Lee has been biding his time "being secluded and white" and thirty years have passed while he has waited. He is relieved that it's finally over after "[putting] everything on the line for it"

After Lee finished speaking, Jason set down the dishes he was returning, and opened his mouth to speak, but could think of nothing appropriate. Luckily, Lee's ramble continued, and moved on to other matters. Hopefully Jason will edit the rest of it so I can publish it soon.

Leesearch

Ever since we told Lee that I was expecting he has sorta disappeared. I still saw him around, but he was definitely keeping a distance from me and Fox during the day. Peace settled into my yard, and I relished my newfound ability to exit my home without facing an emotionally charged monologue about flying helicopters in Naam. He did flag me down one day as I was pulling out of the driveway; he handed me a change purse full of pennies and asked if I would go to the tobacco shop to get him a pack of Red Cap tobacco. I asked "Red Hat"?, and he turned and yelled;

"CAP, RED CAP, not hat, CAP"

as he pantomimed putting on and removing a hat. Other than that one occasion I hadn't encountered him on a conversational level in weeks. This all ended yesterday.

Fox and I were outside playing in the yard when I noticed smoke billowing into the tree tops around me. Since Fox has really made progress with mastering a bic lighter, and since the smoke was so near I figured Fox was responsible for the fire. I hopped up and assumed my "angry face", heading towards where Fox was huddled, and realized that he hadn't started a fire. I peeked over the shrub and saw Lee fanning a massive pile of leafy brush with a piece of poster board. It was popping and snapping, emitting opaque smoke which spanned the entire street, but was concentrated in Lee's immediate vicinity. It looked like he was in music video.

He did the thing where he just starts talking as if you were already engaged in conversation, and I smiled and nodded to keep up. I realized that he was inviting me to his house to see a clock he made out of a sprocket and beer caps. Fox was going nuts trying to get into the fire, so I pulled him away and into Lee's house to see his creation. Basically, Lee had bought a clock, removed the hands and attached them to the center of a bicycle sprocket. Sorta like this:



First he showed me the sprocket clock, then he called attention to the "parts" clock which he had painted hands onto the face frozen at 4:20. He was equally pleased with that clock.

We left his house and Fox and I returned to playing, and Lee to burning green branches.

A few minutes later Lee returned and asked me if Jason had ordered a book for him. I asked him about the book, and he told me it was written by a woman named Moore, and it was about her pictures of mystical orbs. I told him that I would look it up for him.
I was about to use that as an excuse to go inside for a while when he abruptly asked me another research related question.

"Did'jew listen to that Coast to Coast radio show last week? Tha'n bout th' Trixters?"

I had no idea what the hell he was talking about, so he started telling me about it.

"See they had dis guy on ere as uh guest name Chris O'Connor, or Chris O'Neal er somethin, but he got on the air an started a'makin fun uh me! Back in the 80s he was lookin' for all th' Ghost Dancers an Skin Dancers out west and he ask me t'take em, so I told em that I would do th' Ghost Dance an he could see for himself, but all he wanted t'do was all this decibel stuff with recorders an stuff. Ye'know he was like one uh these professor types not wantin' t'do the work jus wantin' tu write some big book! So I told em that I'd take him to meet some shamens and medicine men an he was givin' me a hard time, a callin' me a shafe shifter an some kinda weekend warrior an got mad an so I said "fuck this" so I went t'town tu that Goodwill store an bought $50 worth uh stuff: I got sum deer antlers an clear packin'tape an plastic wrap, so I put flour in th'plastic wrap an put it over my face real tight, an taped them antlers to my head, and got this piece of blue fabric wrapped'round my shoulders. See, I waz tryin' t'camoflage in with th'storm an fog. Then I got up on his roof with a brick on a rope an started walkin 'round the roof lettin' that brick bounce on the wall, then I stuck my head in his window an scared him so bad he come running naked out into the snow. I figgured that'n needed t'be scared."

I was thoroughly confused as to how this had anything to do with the radio show, and I asked;
"So the guest on the show talked about you on air"?

Lee excitedly replied
"Hell yeah he did! He was callin me all sorts uh shit some kind uh 'shafe shiffer' weekend indian! He was pissed off an all I was tryin t'do was help em out! After we wuz there I took em up Arizona where them people were diggen in walls makin houses, called 'cwiff dellers' er sumthin. Back when I wuz workin in commercials an TV an stuff I did all kinds uh shafe-shiptin' an was turnin into animals an doin photoshoots
an all. Hell! You SEEN one of um when I wus turned to a wolf! Remember that magazine ad I showed you? I done that an I done a car commercial as a bear that breaks in th' car an eats th' doughnuts...I don't like doin' it much though.
But I need you t'get on th'internet, look up google, an punch in Coast to Coast, and Trixters, an see if you can't get that episode loaded on a CD for me cuz I need t'listen to it again."

I was itching to go inside, so I acted real urgent-like about it and told him I'd check it out pronto:
The Tricksters - Shows - Coast to Coast AM

Shared via AddThis

I haven't had the time to listen to the stream yet, but I'm really looking forward to
putting the pieces together. I looked up the book he was referring to and this is the author, Rochelle Moore:







I'm not sure what it all means, but Lee is definitely into the mystical realm of existence. If I can pin down which book he is interested in, and it's available on Amazon I will definitely get it.

Lee cracks me up so much! He is always asking me to search for bizarre stuff on the internet for him, and he scours the South Knoxville library's adult non-fiction section, which probably consists of fewer than a few thousand books.

Ladyface, revealed

For those of you who recall my April 7th blog post Fountains and Fountains, you may remember mention of a certain sexually ambiguous neighbor who was affectionately referred to as Ladyface. More evidence has been unearthed about this swarthy, yet delicate individual.




I apologize in advance for these uncensored images.

Sometime after posting the aforementioned blog, my friend Beth told me that she had seen Ladyface at our neighborhood store, The Handy Dandy. I asked Beth if she got the impression that Ladyface was a man or a woman, and she felt confident that it was a man in women's clothing. Clothing, dangling earrings, and platform sandals, to be exact. Imagining Ladyface in the Handy Dandy all dolled up is enigmatic. This is the kind of store where they butcher and sell their own meat, and where cops hang out. Their top selling beer comes in 40 oz bottles, and most of their customers arrive on foot. The thought of an unabashed transvestite entering the establishment seems ballsey, if not slightly dangerous.


The following day Lee and I were driving to the comic book store so he could get "dis guy tuh buy me one uh dim five dollar foot longs", and on the way we drove past Ladyface's house where the fountain was spewing.
"Do you the man who lives in that house with the fountain?" I asked Lee.

"Hell yeah" Lee said in a low, "no duh" tone. "People says he's some kinda queer er sumthin. I don't give uh damn but whut th hell is he doin with that goddam warshin machine pump on thar? Can you imagine thu warter he's a waistin' jus to run that crap in his front fuckin yard"

Lee's tone and volume increased to a mid-high agitation level, and he elaborated:

"I mean, here's dis grown man spendin all his time'n money on some ugly warter pump with bricks an bullshit all over it; livin in thare with his BIG old momma! That says to me that shit ain't right with em. Them peoples CRAZY"

I was proud that Lee didn't rail the man for dressing like a woman or for his proposed homosexuality. Ladyface had logged at least 25 hours a week on that stupid fountain, and since he continually changed it, it was 25 hours a week from April to September for three consecutive summers. But the bottom like was that Lee was calling another CRAZY.

A few days later Jason and I were driving by and saw Ladyface relaxing around his house. We took these pictures.







I couldn't help but notice the pick in his pocket. I used to carry a pick like that when I got an 80s perm.

My neighborhood is the best. When a man feels this confident and natural while cross dressing, everyone else should just follow suit. No pun intended.

Lee made me a meatloaf

Yesterday while Fox and I were working in the yard Lee popped his head out of his front door and unintelligibly yelled something about meat. His tone was urgent and as he emerged holding an oven mitt in one hand and an old, wadded up t-shirt in the other, I figured he was cooking. I asked what he needed, and with an impatient gesture complete with rolling eyes, he returned into his home without a verbal reply. I continued weeding around my tomatoes while Fox was busy in the sand box, and after a few minutes Lee reappeared at his door and started my way.

"I've got'chall uh meatloaf I made; jus tookit out uh thu oven."

Without having fully comprehended what he had said, I said "Yeah. Ok", like it was the most natural exchange that had ever occurred, ever in all time.

"What I did is chop up onions, maters, sweet peppers, sum carrots n beans(?), broccoli (??) then mixed it up real good with thu meat in my bean pot, then poured pizza sauce on top of it'n baked it 'bout 40 minutes. I made two of um; a big un an a small un"

Still unclear of what was going on, I said "Mmmm. That sounds weird".

He said that it was cooled off enough to bring it over, and he turned back towards his house. A couple of steps away he turned back and yelled (as if he were all the way back at his house, and there was a wind storm or a thunder storm like that scene from Back to the Future when Marty was trying to tell Doc about his future murder) "If I bring yall one of um will you cut me off enough for a sandwich?"

I nodded and watched him disappear, then became worried when I saw him returning with his pan and a hand full of sliced white bread.

"Go in'ere an git a knife!" Lee demanded.

Fox was interested in the pan and started asking Lee for "meat please"

I handed the knife to Lee, but he just shoved the pan of loaf towards me and acted like the knife was a live snake. I sliced the loaf with Lee's explicit direction, and realized that this was unlike the dish that mamma used to make. First of all the vegetables were in huge chunks. It looked like some concoction to be stuffed into something else. It didn't slice at all, but crumbled back into it's individual ingredients, leaving the appearance of a missing main dish. The "loaf" was surrounded by a lava lamp style mix of pizza sauce and grease in the bottom of a warped, Teflon frying pan sans handle.



I arranged the heel on Lee's slice of bread which he immediately topped with another slice, then wadded with such force that when he opened his hand it looked like a hot pocket. He handed me a slice of bread between his fingers as if it were the ace of spades, and commanded me to "make 'at boy uh sammich"

Fox had been caught earlier playing with a bag containing a quarter loaf of bread. He had mangled the bread, leaving it unusable for whole sandwiches, but decent for child-size benders. I brought the bag outside to where we were pick-nicking. I used Lee's bread for myself and made Fox a sandwich from his play time bread.

Like all of Lee's creations, the meatloaf was delicious. We sat in my driveway and ate . I noticed that when Lee eats he makes pained, grunting noises much like a person having a nightmare. After accidentally staring at him for too long, Lee glanced over at me and declared "it's the broccoli that makes it"

fountains and fountains

In the land of yard art, yard sales and the torch of independent spirit nothing seems to surprise me much. Everyone in my neighborhood has something extraneous in their yard, be it a makeshift water fountain, multi colored bottles poised on tree limbs, non-functional vehicles, or "sculptures" consisting of household refuse. The degree of the typical Tennessean's "mark" on their yards is exclusive to this place and time.
Since moving to my neighborhood in spring of 2006 I've kept an extensive mental journal detailing the most interesting yards in the area. Today I would like to investigate the two most notable water features.
I noticed the first case over a year ago when there was a warm spell in early March. There was a guy out in his yard lugging bricks to a section of his yard that bordered the busy, semi-retail/commercial street. He was thin and wiry with skin the color of a hot dog despite the season. His hair was long and stringy kinda like a metal front man's, and he was wearing women's, boot cut jeans. I saw him as I drove down the street going 35 mph and had just enough time to remark on the mysterious project he was hard at work on, and the extremely obese woman sitting on the front porch of his house.
The next day I took Fox to the park in his stroller. While he played I could hear someone tink, tink, tinking away at a masonry substrate, and the faint sound of rock music. Fox was getting sleepy and began to whine about chocolate milk, so I decided to treat him to a Mayfield Chug at the Handy Dandy Market. We strolled in and got the milk and Fox settled into the stroller with his treat. As we exited the store, I remembered the guy with the bricks and decided to walk another block so I could pass his yard. I slowed my pace to a hobble which would both make me look more authentically SoKnox (as most pedestrians hobble), and allow me a longer view of the yard without revealing myself as a Looky-loo.
The guy was out with his brick pile and a hammer and chisel removing cement from the bricks with meticulous care. His aviator glasses were dark and mirrored so I wasn't able to tell if he saw me coming; just to be safe I gave him a nod. He paused for a moment, then assuming he had just imagined my signal, looked back at the lumpy brick in his hand. He had started stacking the cleaned bricks in a rectangular column which was roughly two feet high. There were lots of PVC pipes and connectors laying around, and a large, blue tarp anchored by two orange traffic cones. His house looked like it was about 600 square feet, which made me understand why he wanted to maximize his yard by flexing his home-making muscles in the out of doors, and there was no sign of the big woman.
The entire scene was effectively burned into my mind-journal, and I started imagining what he was working on.
The next day Fox and I didn't go anywhere, and that night our friend and neighbor, Dan came over for a visit. "Have you seen that guy on South Haven?!" was the first thing to come out of his mouth!
Relieved that I wasn't becoming a socially deprived stalker, I excitedly compared notes with him and we shared our theories regarding the form and function of the dude's project. We were equally tantalized by this mystery, again, much to my relief.
Dan's wife Adrienne and I called or emailed each other daily with progress reports or interesting sightings at the man's home, and we finally realized what he was creating; a water feature.
He had lined the interior walls of the rectangular column with the tarp, and used extra bricks to weigh it down on the top rim. A water hose had been run through a PVC pipe with an "elbow" joiner on the end, so the water came out at an angle. The pressure was a bit too high and it looked like a geyser on the end of a stick, or a plumbing blow-out accident. In fact, I noticed a few of the bricks were pushed out from the pressure.
The following weekend Dan, Adrienne and I talked at great length about the fountain and it's attributes. The next day I drove by and the entire thing was disassembled! The bricks were all back in a tidy stack, the tarp back on the ground with the cones, and the piping on the tarp. I was more than disappointed. While shopping at the grocery store I thought about the fountain and how it hadn't been so bad! Just a little off! What possessed him to take the thing apart?
Driving home from the store I saw the man hard at work rebuilding the fountain, only this time he stacked the bricks side to side instead of end to end, and had painted the interior pale blue like the inside of a swimming pool. As soon as I got home I called Adrienne at work and told her about the progression. She promised to take that route home to see.
The next day Fox and I walked by the house and beheld the magic! The column was three feet high and the PVC water pipe was sticking straight up in the center of the basin. The pressure was still too high so now it really looked like a geyser! At 20 feet away on the other side of the road we could feel the over spray! Cars driving by were creeping by to get a look!
Over the next two weeks many revisions took place; two flood lights pointed at the water spray, a coat of blue enamel on the exposed PVC, and finally some orange and white "go vols" pom poms attached to the corners. It was almost more than I could bear; I had to meet this man.
We left for a long weekend in Asheville and when we returned everything was different, again. The column shape was gone and in exchange was a low, wide basin similar to the dimensions of a koi pond, and the pipe was so low to the ground it couldn't be seen by passers by. The flood lights had been mounted to two tobacco stakes placed behind the fountain, and the stakes were painted blue. The flood lights provided an interesting effect on the water, but a blinding one on my eyes when I was driving by after dark.
Each day was something new with the fountain. It provided us with tons of conversation and anticipation all summer long, then one day it was gone, replaced by the blue tarp and cones. By winter time there was no trace left of the fountain, neither brick nor pipe.
I had almost forgotten about the fountain till the other day when I saw it.

That satellite dish that you see there was inverted, forming a basin in the brick part and the water pipe was in the center. It was a-m-a-z-i-n-g! I was thrilled not only to see the fountain again, but to see the MORTAR between the bricks! It sure seemed permanent! When I took this picture I figured that he was working on the plumbing and was going to replace the satellite to it's original position.
Then the man exited his house with two mousy shi-zus trailing wearing his tight girl jeans, a baby doll midriff-bearing shirt, and carrying a bunch of junk.

It was then that I noticed something about this man that I never had before. He looked like a lady in the face.

"Ladyface"

I have studied these pictures at great length and magnification and I can't figure it out; is he a masculine lady or a soft-featured man? I can gather from the photos that there are: zero breasts

zero package bulge

there are lady jeans

scoop neck, midriff-bearing babydoll tee

manly back but without hair

lap dogs

biceps

has a lady face

As you can tell there are a few questions left unanswered.
While I was out I decided to check out the other contender in the "best water feature in SoKno" contest. Although it does deserve mention with it's mini Christmas tree and garland, it pales in comparison to the satellite idea. I will make an official decision when ladyface gets finished.

Lee hadn't exited his house in four days when I saw him draw back the hot air balloon-printed curtain and peek out his front door at Fox and I, quickly releasing it when he saw my glance. Three minutes later he stepped onto his front landing wearing an unbuttoned shirt and a knit toboggan. The shirt seemed like a tiny rag hanging from his shoulders, gathering under his arms framing his protuberant belly.

A week ago his hot water heater stopped working and he came over to my house to take a "whores bath", which we called a "bird bath" in my house, but when you think about the key body parts in the process, "whores bath" is a more apt title. After he had rinsed his hair and put his clothes back on, Lee opened the door while he shaved and chatted. He hadn't put his belt back on yet, and I was shocked to see the impossible angle his belly created where it returned to his hip. The bottom of his overhanging belly was parallel with the floor, and created a sharp, right angle with his hip bone. Don't worry. I didn't stare. One glance and I will never forget the sight. Even when I was carrying a nine and a half pound baby Fox in my belly it wasn't that big. Why do some men have such off the chain bellies?

Lee scratched and stretched, then disappeared back into his house, reemerging with a steaming cup of coffee and a "rolly", which is a hand rolled cigarette. He slowly approached Fox and I, stopping here and there to look around at the wind blowing the trees. He had buttoned his shirt and I could tell that that particular shirt was soon becoming an openly wearable only type; the buttons were all mismatched colors at the midsection and they seemed to be under a great deal of strain.

I was pushing Fox on his swing and he was screaming so he didn't hear Lee approach. I noticed that Lee had something shoved in his back pocket that was making him walk funny.

"So do yall have one uh them VHS players or what?", Lee barked as if he had already asked me twenty times before. He pulled the item out of his pocket and it was a cover less VHS tape entitled "Winterland Scooby Doo" I told him that we did, and he went on to explain that he had bought that tape from "a guy who was hurtin with his rent" for Fox.

"It's pretty cool. I done watched it. Thares a few stories on 'at one tape an one's a Christmas-type story, an the rest are, well I wont give it away. It's CLEAN anyway"
Well that was a relief! I was wondering if he meant that it was a physically clean tape and relatively germ-free, or if he was referring to the content of the movie.

Fox had realized Lee was amidst and had began yelling Lee's name over and over. Lee pushed him for a while, then proclaimed, "I sware I could'uh cut'chore hair straighter with uh pan-knife than what 'at woman did! An how much you paid'er?"

I told him that we had traded goods for services, and he seemed satisfied. After I got my hair cut he started calling me by a different name. Something that sounded like "Asian-ninine". I had no idea what he was saying, and he was drunk. After realizing that he was doing it on purpose, not of disorientation I finally asked him why.

"You look like 'at spy Agent 99! You know! From 'at ol spy movie Get Smart!?" I lied and told him that I knew what he was talking about, relieved that he wasn't being derogatory towards Asian people.

Lee asked us what we were going to do today, and I said that since we were both under the weather that we would likely stick around the house and enjoy the warm temperatures. He said "em doctors say y'need at least fifteen minits'uh sunshine per day or you'll get all..." Lee was making the universal sign for crazy; winding his finger around and around right beside his head, and I told him that I believed it whole-heartedly.

Lee saged my house

Last weekend Heather, Ella and Josh came to visit for the weekend. We were all really excited since it was the first time they had visited with baby Ella, and we always have lots of fun together regardless of what we do. As an extra bonus our wonderful friend, John was in town too, and he and his lady friend, Amy came over for supper.

Jason spent Saturday working on one of our (many non-functional) lawnmowers over at Lee's house. Lee is a wizard when it comes to small engine repair and always helps us fix stuff; as far as I can tell these times are Lee at his finest.

Heather, Josh, Ella and I were going to go to the store to get preparations for shrimp and grits while Fox was napping, so I walked across the street to ask Jason to come work in our front yard so he would hear if Fox awoke. Lee was watching Jason tighten something while he held his hand which was wrapped in dirty flannel.

"What happened t0 your hand?" I asked

"Aw nuthin! I wuz just helpin Jason get his mower fixed an I cut my hand on 'at bolt" Lee said in a sing-songy tone.

I looked back at Jason and explained our excursion to him, and immediately after the words escaped my mouth Lee assertively asked,"So whater you a-havin fur supper"

I told him shrimp and grits with turnup greens, crowder peas and sweet potato fries.

"An you ain't even gonna invite me when I'm over here a-bleedin fixin YOURE machine?!",
Lee assumed.

Quickly I asked Lee to please join us for supper, and that we would be eating sometime after seven. He accepted my too-late invite with disdain, as if he would be doing me a favor by showing up, and asked if I could pick up a few things while I was out. He ran into his house and came out five minutes later with a grocery list, his government "food stamp" card, and his pin number. Lee gave me explicit directions how to use the EBT/debit card reader, even after I insisted that I understood the functionality of the contraption, and then sent us on our way.

Josh and I prepared our supper and Lee stuck his head in when we were almost finished. I told him that it would be another 45 minutes till it was ready, and he said, "I've done ate, but thanks Jill. I appreciate it n you're a good neighbor. I'll prolly jus come back over here when Dan and John get here"

Great.

John, Amy and our friend Frank showed up, and my friend Adrienne from up the street came down. We all talked and caught up with each other. Adrienne went back home to her kids so her husband, Dan could come down, and very soon afterwards Lee appeared. He came in the door with photographs of Dan, John, and I he had taken a few months earlier.

"See them orbs all over you John?!" Lee yelled. "You got them thangs all over your house Jill. See, they ride in on other people even if your house is clean an blessed" Lee remarked with a suspicious look at our previously jovial company.

I told him that everything was fine in my house, and there had been no spiritual disturbances of any kind. Lee produced three sticks of incense and a bundle of sage and insisted that we burn all of it to "smudge" our house. He continued talking about the mysterious orbs on the photographs for the rest of the evening.

I have seen tons of these "mysterious orb photos" that Lee has taken and without a shadow of a doubt they are dust particles. Some of the photos are of people with a big spot on their face or shoulder, some are of empty areas in a bar or someone's house with a spattering of nebulous dots, all are taken with a flash. The first time Lee showed me his collection of pictures I told him that I had had that problem when using a flash, and he said

"That ain't dust!! That place was so clean! There weren't a spot anywhere!",

and then it became a personal attack on the subject's cleanliness. So I dropped it and started accepting whatever he said about these photos, but this was the first time that my complacency had led to a "smudging" of my home.

As the fragrant smoke billowed from one room to the next all of my guests looked around at each other, attempting to communicate non-verbally by making eye contact. One by one I discreetly extinguished the incense, cracked the door to the back porch and turned on the overhead fans. I could hear Lee in the other room demanding to know what Dan thought about his photos. People started dodging Lee and his strange, one sided conversations, and he made his way into the kitchen where I was cleaning up. He started talking at me without any concern of my indifference, and suddenly I realized he was swearing loudly, and the children were in the other room.

"I told that stupid fuck what he could do! I said 'Alright goddammit! Get your shit and go back to your old lady an tell her not to bother me or my family no more! We're sick uh you're shit!"

At that moment Jason burst into the kitchen shushing Lee and telling him that he didn't care if he swore but not to do it when the kids are awake and in the next room. Lee looked at Jason incrediously and slinked out of the room, shrugging.

An hour later I went outside and found Lee smoking on the porch.

Laughing, he asked "Did you hear Jason tell me off in thar? He said I was a-cussin in front uh those babies or somethin. I NEVER cuss in front uh kids, man. I know how it is. He musta thought I was Pope. You know, that big bald dude Jason plays music with? He's always cussing around the kids"

Not knowing what to say, I just stood there and nodded. Why would Lee pick Pope? Brad Pope is great with kids, and super respectful of Fox. It was so freaky for Lee to pretend like he hadn't screamed obscenities in my kitchen while I was standing beside him, just an hour earlier, then try to blame it on a guy who wasn't even there. Then the conversation shifted back to the orbs and Lee proclaimed;

"Whatever they are they're faster than anything we got! I mean military, yaknow; like 747s or F-16s or bombers or WHAT EVER man! Them orbs gottem beat. I know yall're good people an all but I'm jus WARNIN yuh that thares more than this world that'cha see in life. There's the spirit world an yuh don't wanna piss'em off none!"

I told him that I didn't want to aggravate the orbs either, but I wasn't worried about them. He interrupted me by saying "So what do you really think about them Jill; tell me thu truth!"

After a moment's consideration I said that I thought they were interesting. Lee exploded and said that I might as well have slapped him in the face, and that he thought that I thought he was crazy. For some reason Lee was putting people on the spot all that night, demanding that they tell him he's crazy. Of course no one took the bait, as tempting as it was. It felt like Lee was fishing for a fight, which became evident towards the end of the evening.

Everyone started leaving and going to bed, and John and Amy were the last two people left other than Josh and Heather who were staying at our house. Jason and I were hoping that Lee would leave so that we could talk to John and Amy a little bit before they left, but he just wouldn't budge.

Finally Amy and I decided to try and lead him outside, then return inside without letting him back in. Evidently, despite being really drunk and high, Lee was onto our plan because he acquired a sloppily hostile attitude before leaving.

Amy and I were standing beside the door forming a chute directing Lee out the door, when he stopped in front of us and said "thanks a lot Jill" charged with sarcasm.

"You ain't gotta do anything! All you do is sit around here sewing in your room back'ere. All you gotta do is watch 'at kid. Yeah you got it made" Lee expressed.

Amy's eyes got huge and angry, and after taking a shocked, sidelong glance towards me she asserted "Being a mother is the hardest job in the world!"

Lee sort of rolled his eyes and continued his strutting progression to the front door.

Amy was horrified with Lee, but I felt like it was comparable to watching a really slow wreck. I can't take offense when I know he's just running off at the mouth. For god's sake; this is a man on disability who drinks moonshine and smokes dope on a daily basis, further disabling himself. It would be a wasted argument.

Despite the Lee-static, it was a great night. My only regret is that I didn't insist Lee leave a little early so I could have talked to my favorite friends about something without him screaming about orbs in the next room.

final countdown

Where to begin, where to begin?

When Lee moved into the house across the street he prefaced the pleasantries of introductions with a numerical countdown of days till he became a millionaire.

"Three hundred eighty-six more days uh this an I'll be outta here!"

I didn't know what he meant, but assumed it related to his condition of being home all the time without a car, subsiding on government food vouchers, and talking about magical orbs and spirits.
As time elapsed Lee's countdown decreased, and he explained that he would be entitled to his millions when George W Bush was no longer president. When the figure dropped below three digits I realized that it was, in fact a countdown till inauguration day; Jan 20th 2009.

After returning to Knoxville from my extended Christmas vacation I was shocked and alarmed to realize how low the countdown had dwindled. Jason and I had always chalked it up to fantasy; assuming that something would happen before the day arrived, but here we were, just days till inauguration. I decided that I would be gone that day, but the days leading up to the 20th were so uneventful I forgot to take precautions.

When the day arrived Fox and I watched the ceremonial preparations unfold on television, and occasionally glanced across the street to check Lee's status.

The only thing I noticed was an array of unfamiliar vehicles arriving and departing from the house. Lee didn't leave his house for quite a few days surrounding the 20th, which wasn't uncommon. He normally sleeps till noon, so it's possible that he leaves his house after I go to bed.

The next weekend Jason had some friends over to play music. I guess Lee suspected a party was going on so he came over with his standard mason jar of moonshine and a miniscule joint. He seemed pretty lit when he arrived, and after watching the guys play three or four songs he began asking me to google stuff for him. First he asked me to look up something regarding orb manifestations in photographs, then a ranch on the Comanche reservation in Texas, and finally the 2009 Ford dually F-350 crew cab truck. He kept making commands like, "type one in that has black interior", and "how much more is it to get REAL big speakers? I mean NICE."

I was going to explain that it wasn't possible to refine such a search, but after a couple of attempts I decided it was easier to just make up figures based on my own estimates. As soon as we had found a suitable image he said "Jill go get Dan an tell him to come over here an look at dis truck. He don't believe me when I tell him I'm gettin one. I'm makin a call tuh Lance Cuttingham an I'm gettin one uh them Monday morning. Jus wait. Tell 'em to git over here an look!"

Lee said this in a way that concluded that after seeing a picture of a truck on the internet, Dan would believe him.

Dan and the rest of the guys were in the middle of a song, so I told Lee that I would show it to him after they finished.

"He's jus right there! Jus tell em tuh look!" Lee griped in a too loud for inside voice, pointing.

I told Lee that it would be ridiculous to interrupt a band to show a guy (who couldn't care less) a picture of a truck on the internet. "I'm sure Dan knows what a new Ford F-350 looks like", I said.

"Yeah, but not like mine. Mine's gonna be top uh thu line!" Lee said dreamily.

I didn't even touch that one. I just walked away from the computer and ended the session.


Needless to say Monday came and went with no new truck. The countdown seemed to come and go, too, till the other night when Lee asked me to look up some other nonsense on the computer.

He started rambling on about someone trying to cheat him out of his money. I asked what he was going to do about it, and he said "I don't know yet. I'm gonna have to watch NCIS tomorrow night to see if I have to go out to the desert or not"

I asked him if he was referring to a television show, and he said "Yeah. See they talk to me an tell me stuff in code. Military stuff."