Sarah Has Spoken!

And the winner is . . . (drum roll) . . . uh . . . (more drum roll) . . . uh . . . Cut!

I can't go right into announcing the winner. Nobody does that. First you have to read some of my "stuff". And for today, I've decided to keep a promise I made weeks ago. I'm going to tell you my story about petting a wild possum.

Dee and I were building a little house out in the country. I think it was house number 3 (We've built 11) We'd bought a used motor home to live in while we built. Well, truthfully, we'd bought it to travel in, but found out it got eight miles to the gallon.

The one real trip we took in it was to visit my brother who lived in Florida at the time. We made it as far as Central Louisiana  - about 15 miles from Alexandria, where Dee was raised and his family still lives - when it broke down. For five days we spent most of the day - every day - sitting in the mechanic's shop, because every evening when we'd leave to go to Mama's house the foreman would tell us it would be ready about ten the next morning.

Someone had to taxi us back and forth, so when they dropped us off the next morning, we'd dismiss them and tell them we'd be along in a few minutes. Of course after they left we'd discover there were more complications and it wouldn't be ready for another two hours. When those two hours were up, it would be another two hours, and so on until it was time to leave for the evening again. We never made it to Florida, and didn't even get to enjoy our visit in Louisiana. It took some of the shine off of being a motor home owner, that's for sure.

But I digress . . .

One day we worked late into the evening. The porch light was on at the house we were building. Both the house and the motor home were facing the road, which left the front of the motor home in total darkness. The awning was extended and our Bar-B-Q pit was set up on the patio. We kept the cat's food on top of the pit (when it wasn't lit, of course) so the dog couldn't get it.

I headed for the motor home to get something. When I zipped around the corner into total darkness, it took a minute to sort things out. There sat our cat on top of the Bar-B-Q pit having a snack.

"Hi, baby, having a late supper?" I rubbed my hand down it's back.

Oh oh! Didn't feel like cat fur to me. Yet, in my stupor I stood there with my hand on it's back, while my eyes adjusted. A humongous possum's white face came into focus. He stared at me. I stared at him. I'm sure he was as shocked as I was when we recognized each other. He didn't hiss. He didn't move.

I pulled my hand back and excused myself and he went back to eating.I mean these kinds of things happen every day, don't they?

Wake up the drummer!

And the winner is . . . Hit it!  . . . (Drum roll) . . . Hold it. Sarah, would you like to make this announcement?

No? She worn out from checking the trash cans.

Okay. The winner is . . . wait. I gotta tell you what a bang-up job Sarah did in picking the winner. She nosed around in the trash can for several minutes before making her choice. (If she could read, I'd say this was rigged.) After carefully selecting the designated winner she headed for the bedroom. "No, wait! You gotta let me read it. You're supposed to lay it down next to the trash can the way you always do."

Under the bed. You heard me, she took it under the bed. I was a little frantic at this point, so she thought I was mad at her and no amount of coaxing would bring her out from under the bed. If I walked away, she might totally eat it, and I wouldn't know who won, except through the process of elimination.

Dee ran to the kitchen for a dog treat. Yay! That did the trick. She came out . . .but she didn't bring the slip of paper with her. So, I had to reach under with a back scratcher and pull out the mangled entry.

Okay. The winner is LOOsi GGGEE. Well, that's what it looks like. Oh, that's a tooth hole. And a little slobber. Turn it over.

And the winner is . . . (Drum Roll) . . . Lisa Grace!

Congratulations, Lisa. Your possum is in the mail.