Whine And Dine...

"Doctor, can you help me?"
"What seems to be the problem?"
"Writer's Block. I can't seem to get my funny on."
"Ahh, yes, that could be a problem."
"Ok...so what can I do about my writing drought?"
"I don't know--can't think of a thing."
Big help...

I need an elixir of Rodney Dangerfield, with a double
shot of Woody Allen and Carl Hiaasen--something
I can't get at Blue Martini!
Some people are dripping with humorous anecdotes
and one-liners, with little effort, it seems.

I could make fun of myself, I suppose.
Tom's been calling me peg-leg.
I've become glued to my sofa lately--not by choice.
I fractured my ankle recently.

I'd rather be outside in the pool, enjoying the
hot Florida sun, or on the Las Vegas trip we
had to cancel this week.

So, I've been following orders to stay off my feet.
I'm getting into the Cleopatra routine: Enjoying
being waited on hand and foot--pardon the pun.
More fruit, maybe a sweet tea, please.

I haven't been through a drive-thru in a long time.
Maybe I'll get Jen to take me this week--though,
with the luck that's been hitting me over the last
few months, I'd probably wind up with an 'unhappy' meal!
But I digress.

With a collective heave I hoist myself from the sofa,
clogging my way to the kitchen to grab the Dustbuster.
Cleo left her cookie crumbs between the cushions--
which has taken on the shape of her bum...

Brain Warp--Rebooting...

I've been sucked into creative quicksand.
Sitting on the sofa, glancing out to the back
yard, I'm waiting for an instant spark of
something funny to tickle the dormant folds
of my usually witty brain.

This on and off period of writing has been the
longest bout of writer's constipation I've ever
experienced. It hasn't helped that I'd been
sidelined by a 'locked' back, and most recently
by an injured ankle--thanks to a misplaced tool box.

I've been watching The Weather Channel, and
all of the whirling dervish spin-offs dancing off
Africa.

Most seasoned Florida residents have
grown accustomed to the over-hype--the
prognostications of the weather men who can't
wait for a tropical storm to hit the coast so they
can valiantly smack-dab themselves right in the
middle of the event...

Every year the hurricane predictors say we're in
for an extremely active season. I just took stock
of my hurricane closet: 2 cases of Sam's water,
some cans of soup, paper plates and cups and
plastic ware,dry foods, as well as 2 propane
camp stoves and enough propane canisters.

I also have 3 loaves of duck bread-- I've had to
stock up since Cruiser is bringing her ducky friends
to the house. If you are a new reader of my blog,
Cruiser is a sweet Muscovy duck who chose our
house to visit everyday.

She's been cruising around the yard from the
lake for over a year. Only recently, Cruiser's
brought along Whitey--and occasionally, another
duck we've not named yet. They are both bread fiends...

Out back there's a swale, a flooded river running
along the width of grass. A couple of weeks ago
we spotted catfish spiraling out from the ground
beneath the water, swimming quickly, then 'walking'
into the woods, like something out of a Stephen King novel.

So, here I am, molting, waiting for a simmering
idea to boil over, watching tiny lizards and a frog
scoot close to the pool's edge...

There's a water bowl outside for the ducks.
There was an Indigo snake coiled over the
bowl a few weeks ago, sipping away...

Oh, I see two bobbing heads coming around the
side of the lanai enclosure, like clockwork.
Whitey and Cruiser are peeking over at me between
the plants...
Gotta go feed them...call of the wild!