This morning, I woke, as I often do, with a song in my head. Today’s selection: “His Eye is on the Sparrow.” Every few minutes, I break out into song: “I sing because I’m happyyyy . . .”

The hymn is infinitely more beneficial to my mental health, and, I’m sure, to David’s, than the recent “Pop Goes the Weasel.” Not only can those lyrics grow tiresome, but recently, decades after learning the song, I realized it might not have a happy ending.

The verse I learned:

All around the mulberry bush
The monkey chased the weasel.
The monkey thought t’was all in fun.
Pop! goes the weasel.

As a child, I sang mindlessly. It’s occurred to me, however, that the word weasel has some negative connotations. One definition is, “a sneaky, untrustworthy, or insincere person.” In The Wind in the Willows, weasels were villains. In the Greek culture, the weasel is believed to be a sign of bad luck, even evil.

If the song’s weasel is untrustworthy, and has led the monkey to believe the chase is all in fun, but then turns and goes Pop!  . . . that sounds like bad luck for the monkey.

Wikipedia, which contains a long and comprehensive entry about the song, mentions nothing of the kind, so perhaps my interpretation derives from either my maladjusted mind or my propensity for reading and writing crime fiction. (One critique partner, after reading my latest story, which came to me in a dream, said, “What do you think about at night?”)

Anyway, I’ve decided to forget about monkeys and weasels and sing because I’m happyyyyy.

I’m happy because even as I type, we’re headed north to view the solar eclipse directly in its path over Texas. Something about travel brings out the blogger in me; as soon as we hit the interstate, I’m moved to get out the laptop, fire up the hotspot, run down batteries, and write.

Not the appropriate response.

After spending the Covid years, followed by the knee and foot surgery years, cooped up in the house, I should be glorying in the beautiful Texas landscape rolling by my window. But on this stretch of interstate there’s not much to glory in. What used to be miles and miles of flat grassland is now miles and miles of city interspersed with Buccee’s and McDonald’s. I’d rather stare at a monitor.

We’re traveling early in hopes of missing bumper-to-bumper traffic. A million visitors are expected in Texas this weekend, and on a good day, at least 800,000 traverse this route. At the same time.

With millions more across the nation watching the eclipse, and many of them writing about it, my thousand words won’t add much.

Except –we’ve already experienced three singular events:

1. Only a few miles from home, David swerved, without colliding with another car, into the left lane to avoid something big and flat lying directly in front of us. Our good fortune leads me to suspect that the Greeks were wrong: the weasel, which I’d been thinking of, but not singing about, all morning, is really a good omen.
2. I connected the hotspot all by myself, without asking David, again, to remind me how. And I did that even though the process initially went wrong–something new, I swear–and clicking brought up a different screen. Faced with a list of every network in Central Texas except ours, I calmly started over and made it work. And–and here’s the third event–
3. One of the networks on the list was labeled FBI Surveillance van. The most exciting thing that’s happened since the hogs ate my brother.* Maybe I shouldn’t mention the FBI online, but it might be the most exciting thing that happens this weekend. If you’re ever asked, please bear witness to my voluntary statement that I did not attempt to hack into that network. If they don’t believe that, I can only hope Leavenworth allows laptops.

I say the unexpected network might be the most exciting thing because, while astronomers predict a solar eclipse, meteorologists predict cloud cover, possibly rain. At least in our vicinity. At first, I felt pretty low at the prospect of driving 132 miles one way and not seeing the sun disappear. Last October, we drove about 100 miles to see cloud cover, and in 2017, we drove to Missouri to see the moon cover part of the sun and the light dim almost imperceptibly.**

Then I remembered I’m a native Texan, a certified old-timer, and that the unofficial State Motto is, “Sure Could Use Some Rain.”*** So I adjusted my attitude. Let it rain.

I promise not to complain about cloud cover either. The other State Motto is, “If You Don’t Like the Weather in Texas, Just Wait.” Things change.

I do worry about visitors from far away, however. Like the couple who live in Norway, in the Arctic Circle. They say they’ve never been to Texas and look forward to seeing it. If it rains, they’ll see Vermont instead. Well, maybe Houston; it sometimes rains there, too.

Okay, we’re here. Laptop and phone batteries in fine shape. Snacks in fine shape, from Tuna Creations to individually packaged microwavable soup to apples to Wheat Thins to pecans to popcorn. Plus paper towels, plasticware, reusable microwavable soup bowls (new addition). And, I’m sure, other things I don’t know about. David is always prepared.

My father said that no man should get married until he’d first lived as a bachelor for at least six months and learned to take care of himself. He lived with his widowed father for years before marrying and was an excellent cook and housekeeper.

David was a bachelor for a long time, too. He can do anything.****I lived alone for years and am a mess.*****

Enough about me and the solar eclipse.

We’ll see what happens. Probably what NASA predicts, but maybe not. Maybe we’ll see an omen of a future more terrible than the weasel ever thought of: possibly the release of an Eternal Bat and a Blue Jaguar that will destroy the stars and mankind; or Homeland Security hijacking the “biblical event” (how and why have not been explained).

But that is fodder for another post. Or not, depending on the Jaguar.

*

*My mother used to say that. I don’t have a brother. Neither did my mom. It’s Texas talk.
**We chose Blue Springs because I have family there. Seeing them made up for the eclipse.
***The official State Motto is “Friendship.” No comment.
****Except make pies. My father made a killer chocolate meringue pie.
*****I’m not being facetiously self-effacing. Everyone who knows me well will back me up.

*

That’s probably not the kind of jaguar that will be released, but it’s the only picture of a blue jaguar that I could find.

Image of weasel by trondmyhre4 via Pixabay

Image of solar eclipse by Jason Gillman via Pixabay

Image of raindrops by 준원 서 from Pixabay