Every now and then I gets me a bad case o' Southern. It starts out with a little rain, like right now. A stormin' but not a blowin'. Just enough that you can sit out on the front porch without getting wet. When its hotter than a June Bug's ass outside, a little rain makes for a nice coolin' spell.
A good bottle of sour mash whiskey then adds to the evening, drenched with a little Co-cola from a glass bottle. Ice. Lots of ice. I'll stop by the kitchen and make a peanut butter and banana sandwich on the way out the front door. The wife motions for me to grab the gin bottle and the good crystal.
I pull out two chairs and place them close to the brick steps but just out of the trickle of rain that is still falling. Our old dog takes his place between us and sets a spell. The dusk falls to night and the neighbor's porch light is all I can see besides the ever present lightin' bugs.
Its cool out now and my wife swings her bare feet to the music coming from her I-phone. She don't say much. Just a soft smile and her big brown eyes.
The babies are asleep...
So is the dog.
I'm drifting in and out of dreams.
Life's good with a good wife.
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