One Fish, Two Fish, Three Fish

Most days when I get an idea for the blog, I forget what it was by the time I can get to settle down at the keyboard. So today, I’m making a note or two as I go along and maybe tomorrow morning I’ll have sufficient notes to constitute a blog post. The greater question of course is not whether or not my post will evolve into existence, but rather, whether or not it ever should have. In other words, quality will be the central issue.

One of my notes involves the odd names of the fish that I introduced into the new water feature here at the homestead. The names I gave in the last post, are actually code names for their real names. Yeah I have code names for my fish. You can figure out their real names if you can figure out the clues in the post previous to this one and this one. It will all seem so much easier than it should, but don’t let that fool you. Are you game to take a go at figuring out the code and the three fish’s real names? How difficult can it be right? After all the fish are code named One, Two and Three.

Today I’m adding another Carolina blog link, “The Life and Times of Mediocrity”, written by Napoleon from Charleston. Napoleon says he will be leaving the Carolinas for at least three years. For me, that would really drag my soul in the dust. He will no doubt need the moral support of his family, friends, and all be it strangers, his fellow Carolinians. Well Napoleon, no matter where on this planet you go, you can always look up at night and know that the moon you are under is the same Carolina moon. Just be careful of the air and water you partake of, particularly in Europe, Central America, and New Jersey.

Loosing a fellow Carolinian from our geography is sad. Our culture takes a hit when even one pod of okra is taken from the soup mix. The Southern culture is an amazing thing. The Carolina culture is a miraculous thing. Subtracting just one thing from our harmonious stew can dramatically change flavors, appearances, how we know things, how we count things, weigh them, color our views. Can you imagine loosing one hour of every day, as if we happen to have one too many already?

Okay, our culture is not quiet that fragile; volatile maybe. Southerners do seem to have more heart attacks and domestic violence. At least half of that gets blamed on diet. I have my doubts, and my own theories. I suspect passion has a lot to do with both. Passions run hot and run deep here, even when they aren’t evident. That saying that a Southerner will smile and be gracious even when they are mad, right up to the split second before blowing your brains out, is true. At least its true, for true Southern people of culture. Bubbas are a different breed. They leave the trailer in the morning ready to shoot something, and carry the shotgun in the truck “just in case”.

We’ll save Bubbas for discussion on another day. They cause enough grief on the world without me cheering them on here. Now where was I? Oh yes; I think if my boss sends me just one more smarty mouth curt email… I’m smiling and trying my best to be gracious here… No wait, we were discussing Napoleon’s departure from the Carolinas. It’s a tragedy I tell you. He'll be a fish out of water, and we'll be one less in our Carolina fish school. Drop over to his blog and extend your sympathies. It’s the least a fellow Southerner can do for someone who must leave their place beneath the Carolina moon. The Life and Times of Mediocrity Then tell me my fish's real names... No I don't need to get a life. You'd be amazed how much fun this one is.

Dread