Parrothead Ramblings

Ladybug, the Amelia Earhart of Vine Court.

My parents divorced and broke our family up permanently back in 1964. We all eventually scattered to the four winds, and only recently did the last two men standing, Wayners and me, manage to put it back together again. Well, with a little help from Jimmy Buffett, that is. Bubba has no clue what he's done for us, and I doubt he ever will. I've heard a lot of grousing lately about ticket prices, cutting the horns out of the Reefers, blah blah blah. Hell, for all the good I've gotten from the man's music, I'd pay twice the price to hang out in the very furthest reaches of the lawn section and watch him play solo.

But I digress.......We actually had the occasional bit of a normal family life back in those days, before alcohol, dysfunction, divorce and Vietnam screwed the whole thing up. When I was maybe six years old, I was playing out in the yard of our home in Roswell one day when I saw a number of kites high in the sky a few blocks down Union Avenue. Fascinated, I climbed aboard my bike and headed south to investigate. I found several kids happily flying away on the wind, and I watched spellbound for.....hell, I don't know. I probably couldn't tell time. When I finally pedaled home in the evening gloom, my parents were very worried about me. Back in those days, Mom would simply step out onto the porch and shout out my name. I'd hear her and head on home. It doesn't seem to work that way these days. It seems to be more about soccer or karate practice, or something stupid called a "play date." At least in 1961, a kid could run around and play in his own neighborhood all day without worrying about ending up on a milk carton.

But I digress again....I got home and I wasn't really in trouble. Mom and Dad were just glad to know I was safe. Mom was cutting onions for dinner, and I remember Dad pointing at her and saying, "See? Your mama was so worried she's been crying." Hell, I didn't know at six years old that onions made you cry. I felt horrible for a moment until the two of them laughed, and I realized I'd been had.

Anyway, the kite flying thing has always fascinated me, so when Ladybug asked to take her kite up for its virgin flight Saturday, I jumped at the chance. We went out into the cul-de-sac out front, and she couldn't stop giggling as we unwound the string and prepared for takeoff. There was just enough breeze that the thing effortlessly shot into the air, and Ladybug's heart seemed to soar right alongside it. As we watched the kite sail, dip, and sail again, I kept hearing a dog bark in the background. Turns out it was Scully, in my own backyard. She could see the kite over the house and it was driving her nuts. TFMCD brought her out front to join us, and I think Scully had as much fun as Ladybug. She ran around underneath the kite, daring it to come low enough to take a bite out of it. Eventually, it dipped towards the ground and Scully made her move, but it wasn't meant to be. She got tangled in the string at about the same time the kite caught a stiff breeze, and it scared her half to death. Scully took off in the opposite direction, snapping the string cleanly. The kite got caught in a gravity storm, and Ladybug was pissed.

Can't you just hear Carly Simon singing Anticipation?

There are some things that don't mix well with retrievers. Maybe kite flying is one of them. It's a hoot, but the dog goes nuts trying to retrieve the stupid kite. Now I've got to get my dog in to see a canine counselor to help her deal with the stress. It's even worse than when I throw her ball on the roof, it gets stuck, and she sits and stares at the roof for like an hour waiting for the ball to come down.
Separation anxiety is no laughing matter.
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