I've been spinning for relaxation, in between wrestling with cardboard, paint and glue. We are buried in it. It is turning into props for our family singing group show in a few weeks. A fairy tale of loss and love set to music in the swamps of Louisiana.
The table is covered with frog legs. There are truffles and honey drops to sew. We open the front door carefully and step tip toe over and around the eight feet plus alligators that fill the only floor space big enough to hold them.
Remembering meals at Grandma's. Mom would say, "Grandma's asked us for dinner." Followed by us moaning, "No, please!...." I loved Grandma, but not her cooking. You never knew what it would be, once it was frog legs.
There is more to tell, but I have lyrics to memorize and gator jaws to hinge.
