finally...

There are chicks in our household that Fuckles can't reach. They have hair-dos like little balding men. They seem to have personalities as well. The one on the left just sleeps. The one on the right will briefly look at you passively and fall asleep. There is one in behind the left one that as soon as it hears even a faint noise, promptly opens its' canary yellow mouth to accept food. When nothing comes to it, it just as suddnely disappears behind its' sibling.

We've had them under the deck every year that we've been here. Jeff loved the swallows. In the fall, he'd always gently take down the used nest to show Liv. Then he'd wash the area to make sure it was ready for the next years inhabitants and free of mites and bugs.

He spent so much time sitting outside in his green chair, thinking, smokin' and staring into the marsh. I loved it in the evenings when the kids were asleep. We'd sit out there and talk about 'stuff' and get eaten alive by mosquitoes. I'd sometimes just watch him from inside the sliding glass door without him knowing. I'd wonder what he was thinking about. I'd laugh that he was chattering away to the dogs or that I caught him picking out a wedgey. I'd hide on him when he got up to come inside and jump out at him in the dark. He rarely flinched. I was always in awe of his ability to not scream or at least throw his arms up. He used to freak me out by putting his head over the top of the shower curtain and just waiting until I happened to glance up. I'd scream like a fucking maniac and try to attack all at once. It was pure instinct....I am always amazed that violence was one of my first reactions. I am by no means violent. I took to locking the bathroom door if I was having a shower in the evenings alone. He started picking the locks. He was such a bloody tease. I miss that.