Well, Kind Hearts, that is me (Click on the picture) out there on the stage at the Martin Lipscomb Performing Arts Center in Highlands, N. C. last Saturday night. That is not a very good picture, I guess, but it captures the strange sense of isolation that I feel sometimes standing in a spotlight and surrounded by a great darkness. A little scary. I'm probably more at home on a wooden platform or standing on a table in a pizza parlor. I think I was bad. I had a blood sugar of 350 and I spent a lot of time "searching for the right word." The audience was great. They usually are .... very supportive, laughing and clapping, even when I am inept and rambling. Sheila Kay Adams was fantastic. Bright, sharp, witty. We are getting ready to do it all again this weekend at the Kitter Cole Festival in Cashiers.
May the God of Elderly Storytellers bless me and lower my blood sugar.
The nice lady that comes in every Monday and vacuums my house and picks up all the things that I have dropped during the past week (change, pens, books, etc) found a dead rat under my TV chair. I guess my semi-feral kittie, Booger, did that. It has been there for three or four days and really affected the atmosphere of several movies. I kept thinking it was my moldy old house, or my damp socks from spending the day outside in the rain, but, no, it was "a factor beyond my control." The nice lady (her name is Barbara) took the rat away and doused the room with Febreze. Last night, I watched Harlan Ellison ("Dreams With Sharp Teeth") rant and rage against the world (I love this guy), all to the cloying scent of honeysuckle and orange blossoms.