I don’t know if I’ve mentioned this lately, but I like it here.
The mornings are getting beautiful now. Stepping out into the backyard this morning, the first thing you notice is how it smells: the flowers just started blooming this last week, and you can really catch it now. That sweet botanical garden smell. It’s warming up and we still have a whole lot of oranges left on the tree – really big, sweet oranges – so part of my morning ritual is wandering out back with a small kitchen knife and peeling a couple right from the tree. It’s a nice way to get my brain in gear to write that day.
If I’m outside during the day for longer than a minute or two, Sam figures I’m out peeling oranges and wanders out to see if he can score any. Dog loves oranges. But his mama says I can’t be feedin’ him no more oranges, ’cause he loves them going down but just soon as that sun goes down his ass is on fire and we’re diving for the gas masks. So he was annoyed today that he wasn’t getting any of the good stuff, but I was like, man, suck it up. ‘Cause every time we do this, Sam, eight hours later the cats are gagging and rushing out of the room with their paws over their mouths. Some folks are delicate about orange dog farts, okay?