It Was a Dark and Stormy Sunset

I love sunsets. When I go to Mexico—or any coastline, for that matter—my mission is to catch every sunset, usually from a reclining position with a cold beverage in my hand and something utterly profound percolating between my ears. Same for the lake. There's just something about the sun melting into the horizon that makes me feel happy. Maybe because it means I've conquered another day and can relax before the next one rises to make demands on me.

Waiting for the sunset.

Or maybe because I know that after the sun sets, the stars come out. Which means, with the vast universe growing before my eyes, I can utter profundities about my infinitesimal smallness and ponder my existence with all the philosophical credentials of a single-celled organism. They don't call me Princess Amoeba for nothin'. I am single and I have a cell. Therefore, I am primed for the kind of insightful commentary that reinforces my position in the evolutionary hierarchy. Like, Blah, blah, blah, I'm supposing all kinds of shit that reveals how truly little I comprehend about the universe's grand mysteries—but I did hear some of us are going to catch an astral plane, if we make some crazy connection. Me, I'm not so sure. But anyway, pry out another cork and put on some tunes, will ya?

While that sort of esoterica is actually quite stimulating for me, I would never bore you guys with it. Nay, nay! Cuz without concrete answers to the questions of why and how we highly intelligent Earthlings fit in the galaxy, this pondering consumes two perfectly good minutes that are better absorbed by a good dirty joke and a coupla giggles. Case in point, your most recent two minutes here. Oh, but wait, I'll make it up to you. Have you ever read The Grand Canyon? By Bea Gapusi? You're welcome.

Sunsets, on the other hand, are much simpler and require far less profundity, which I would gladly utter if you insisted. I mean, I don't want to disappoint anyone by not uttering when my utterances have been requested.

This is a dark and stormy sunset.

Anyway, when I spent the day at my pal Julie's house on Lake LBJ, it was with great anticipation of another watercolor sunset—something to soothe my soul. Instead, we got pummeled by a storm. Thunder and lightning and sideways rain. Crazy cool! And because living out on the water is one of my highest aspirations, didn't matter so much that I didn't get my sunset. Just being there, present and fully engaged with my good friend, I got what I came for:  happiness.

And cold beverages. But, again, I'm not currently uttering profundities. Unless you insist.

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Fraiku Monday

It will come as a surprise, I'm sure, that I don't follow rules very well--unless I make them, and in that case, if I make them, I can break them. See how that works? Anyway, I'm homesick today, so I'm dragging out the Haiku of my starlit nights on the lake.

It's important to understand that my Haiku is all kinds of bastardized. I mean, since it will never realize its true parentage, I've named it Fraiku. Naturally, it's pretty deep stuff--a soothing salve for your blue Monday.

Watch out
ducks paddle to the docks
to poop.

May on LBJ
the hills have eyes and
binoculars.

Moonlight and tipsy,
Walking the plank with Heinies.
Whoa-o-o-oa!

Fan overhead
circulates the air and
the bullshit.

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