I'd like to apologize to my OS community--if any feel this post is a clog of the feed. I've been here long enough to get the subtle etiquette of avoiding daily postings.  Bear with me though as  I'm still mending from fluache and the attack of the nostril-forcep-pinching Kleenex earwig.  

Since being sick, I've watched four or five Netflix instant movies.  Unable to locate Cary Grant's North by Northwest, I bought another EBAY classic movie poster instead.  Blame it on the fever.  The last movie poster I bought was an impulse buy after re-watching Tombstone's Josephine Marcus cut her eyes and express, I want one.  Instantly this became a top-list movie line, right up there with Chief Bromden's " ahh, Juicyfruit."   Anyhow, back to the desires of Josephine. One?  I wanted all four, so I bought the poster and put it under the glass topping on my office desk.  Now, with just a glance I lose myself amidst the dirt and stride of those four gunslingers on any give whim.

I think I just lost an hour.  Where am I going with this post?  Regroup Scupper, snap out of it! Ok, I can recall, so I've been re-doin' the butt groove on this classic leather sofa for about three days now.  Aside from movies, I've tried to read outside of the computer.  I don't know if this is happenstance or habit, but I am finding it more difficult to read offline.  Once a "book a day" kind of reader, I am now prone to devouring words online.  I returned to a thick softback, The Lincoln Secret by McKinsey, which has a good start, but I put it down.  I picked up Josh McDowell's More Than a Carpenter, and put it down. I darted my eyes at Conroy's South of Broad.  Averted and flirted with Prince of Tides (which by the way is a favorite read) on Netflix.  Moved on.

I'll take entertainment where I find it, so I took Steve Blevins' (s, z, or eez Steve?) (Blevins's for Cindy Ross) ( AP or Chicago Style, does it matter?  I have so many rules to review and learn) spelling test and promptly enjoyed the comments of other takers.  I sifted around in OS and read Mikel's poetry, and Peace's mind-field, and Cartouche's rant. I checked to see if Duaneart's hand was down and if he had upped the ante yet again.  To me, his talent is right up there with the guns in Tombstone.  I need a Duaneart poster. (Move on , Scup.)  

So the day passed, and I read many new posts and added several new favorites.  I read blogs where I didn't leave comments, and I thought about Stephen McGuire's recent apology for not always leaving remarks.  Who has time to always comment?   Half the time I read and read and read, and then kick myself for not leaving something that I was there.  So thinking about McGuire put me back on his page, where I immersed myself for an hour among his mountains and his recipes. As we say in the "hollar,"  I got to get me some of that tater pie.  (If you just grimaced, so be it.  We say it. ) I'd like to click a glass with Stephen and sup on that Kentucky Bourbon also.

Sometimes being sickly has a vantage point.  I've shed all guilt for not participating in my virtual employment, or domestic responsibilities. (Work on both accounts is piling up, so I am banishing these thoughts-now!) I sipped mint tea, dug my bottom mound deeper into the crack in the sofa, and read on.) I laughed thinking about Theodora L'Engle Knight's humor on the ever- widening ass, and thought about writing her a personal note.  Writing Theo a note is on my mind.  How do you tell a person that such humor often means much to the insomniac late in the night? (Just tell her, dumbass!  Dumbass...Hypen or no hypen?) 

I read where Ardee and Life is Good met in Asheville last weekend.  Since I was also at the Highland's festival,  I would have enjoyed nodding hello to these fine writers (and checking out Ardee's booth.)  The artist and I were walking the streets, groovin' to the music of the mime (now that was a contrast!), and checking out the shops.  We pit-stopped for a Reuben in the soda shop, rather than fight the crowd for a kraut-dog and a squat-cop.  We saw good art, and we held hands.  I've not held hands in years.

 This week, we've emailed poetry back and forth.  In one he told me to send my sweet ass over in a basket. (Should I tell him it is wedged at the moment between two sinking cushions?) Last week he sent a beautiful verse to me about mixing colors in art and in life.

 Here's a sample of yesterday's diversion:

 Will You?

Will you kiss my mouth?
Will you touch White Linen to my wrists?
Will you use a pumice stone upon my heels?
Will you paint my toenails red?
Will you be there when I am well?

----------- 

 Yes , I Will

And thinking of feet.  My ex and I chatted online during this downtime.  We have not chatted like this since the late 90's when we oft played trivia in Yahoo.  Some venting, some healing, some ranting.  My ex-husband is kind and brilliant and funny, a Georgist, and one hell of an inventor. He is also the best damn foot rubber in the world. (foot rubber?) Seeing him recently at the son's wedding opened a vein. All good in the story, our story, I think. 

 And on the home-front.  The farmer has honored my request to not drink all of the Gingerale (he likes to mix it with his Sangria), and he has checked in on me frequently.  He wants me to see a doctor tomorrow as he believes the coughing is worse.  (Apologies to Theo about keeping straight the men in my life, but from those Tombstone fellers to the farmer, I've never known too many men.  It's not about quantity, and its not about filling empty holes.  Simply put, my close friends are women and men. Both. Which reminds me,  I wish I was in SD hunting with Robin Sneed.  Oh yeah! I'd surely get well in a hurry for her current trip.)

So is my fever high?  Why am I posting?  I started this post thinking about my early memories of NC, and how much I've come to love all mountains, and all folk, and all green, and all red dirt.

I've read many North Carolina OS writers here, Ardee, JR Dog, Grif, CarolinaBlue50, From the Midwest (currently in NC), Sam Post, Andrew Kaplan, Grannypower, and many more.  I thought before this feverish, whirling dervish, rambling post began that I'd like to add a spot where NC writers could leave an "Open Call comment" about their part of the state.  I've done a fine job for that, haven't I?  Please leave your imprint if you are from NC, or if you are not.  Apparently mass confusion is the theme.

But not for James.  Never for James.