We headed home for a visit this past weekend. As always, it was too short. After sleeping a couple of nights on a pull out couch, it sometimes feels like too long, if you know what I mean.
Friday morning found me sitting on my parent's front porch shelling beans. I sat with my Mama and chatted about everything and nothing while the kids played all around the Plantation (that's what we call our piece of Southern property). This was actually a treat for me. I haven't shelled beans since I was a teen. We used to sit at my grandma's house and watch the traffic go by while going through bushels. I remember my Mama and Grandma's hands moving like lightening....shelling peas and beans so fast you could never keep up. I never got to that speed, but did my bowl or two. To me, it was like tasting a memory of something long ago that you didn't even realize you missed.
My husband was educated on picking off peanuts. My uncle brought a trailer full of peanuts still on the bushes. Let the record show that I hate picking off peanuts. I despise picking off peanuts. I remember being woke up early on Saturday mornings to go to a dew damp garden to pull up rows of bushes with peanuts dangling on the end. Nasty work. I would complain so much that finally my Dad would just bring them back and wake me up to help pick them off. Then the complaining would start again. I'm Miss Nice Nasty. I have never liked getting my hands dirty and peanut picking is dirty work. Once I got married and a home of my own, I informed them I would no longer pick off peanuts. Now, I've always been more than happy to eat them once they were all clean and boiled. I have stuck by this to this very day and have all intentions of continuing to until I die. My husband has never had the pleasure of picking off the peanuts, but he persevered because he has developed a fond taste for them. God Bless him because we brought home a small bucket for me to cook for our eating pleasure.
But, really and truly, all the excitement happened just as we were leaving to come back home to Jawja. We had everything packed up and was getting ready to load up the van when Fred decided to head to the back of the house to see if all was well before shutting up the place. I heard him say, "WHOA!" and come back into the living room.
I asked him what was wrong?
He replied, "There is a snake in our house."
Fred: "There is a snake in our HOUSE!!!"
Fred: pointing down hallway "THERE! COME LOOK! HE'S RIGHT THERE!"
I walked over to where he was standing and sure enough there was a thin snake around three feet long at the end of the hallway. I immediately told my niece who was sitting on the couch with Mak to run get her Dad to help us with this problem.
Why did I do that?
In my momentary panic, I forgot that my brother is deathly afraid of snakes. Not too long ago, there was small snake that found it's way into his home. It peeked at my sister in law out of the hall closet when she opened it. She called my brother who then proceeded to get his pistol. Yes, his pistol. Real gun. Real bullets. He then shot at the snake. In his home. Missed the snake but hit a water pipe since hall closet was beside bathroom. Made quite a mess. They finally got the snake. It decided to come out of a drawer in the bathroom where Des was going to reach in for a comb or brush. Needless to say, every single hole was plugged in their home after that and they've had no more problems.
My brother comes into my home with a shovel and a pvc pipe. I'm still not clear on why he brought the pipe in. In the meantime, my husband had chased this creature into the bedroom behind a headboard. My brother was all for killing it right there. Bash it to death and all that rot. My husband said, "No! Not in the house! Give me one of those clothing containers out of the other bedroom." In the meantime, you've got three kids ages 8, 7, and 5 hanging out in the hallway wanting a piece of the action. The menfolk decided they did not need their supervision and sent them outside. Finally, the snake was caught in the container. My father met them outside and deemed it non poisonous and a common corn snake. They had recently cut a field near our home and the poor creature was evicted and was looking for his winter condo home. The Edge: South Carolina Edition was not to be his for the taking.
I gotta admit, I was ready to go then. Something about a snake in your home is enough to make you want to move or leave or fumigate or something! Our next mission when we can find an extra day is to go through and make sure we also plug up all the holes we can find. I can't say I'm looking forward to it. It'll probably take me a year or two not to jump at every shadow when I walk in my home there. And I'm old now. I don't need to be doing no unnecessary jumping.
That was our weekend. Exciting, huh?
Oh, and no offense to anyone, but coming home on the interstate? Makes me wonder how some people were able to get a driver's license. And just because you own a Mercedes or BMW does not entitle you to own the road and disregard all speeding laws. It only means you have no better way to spend your money and you have a high insurance payment. Personally? I'd rather own my pitiful mini-van, have decently priced insurance and spend my money elsewhere. But, that's just me.