southern night

tonight after therapy i found myself in the living room sharing two, three, several bottles of wine chatting with four louisiana native: two live here in big d and two are katrina refugees with whom i used to work.

i came home after the wine was gone and the conversation waned, and found myself eating left-over fried chicken and a biscuit. shut the fuck up! without any jelly, i proceeded to pour molasses on the biscuit and scarf it down.

i said, shut the fuck up!

yes, i did indeed have molasses in the cupboard. no telling how long it's been there, but it helped me out of a jam. so to speak. would someone shoot me: it seems the south is taking a toll on me so soon after a trip to canada.

in the background::southern cross:crosby, stills and nash