Who Invited Them To The Party?

This is Sheriff Peanut Butter Brickle. When was the last time that you received an invitation? Was it to a party where people get all gushy and say I do?

Was it to a party where they wanted you to buy stuff? That’s crafty…

Or was it to our campsite? Where all the action which means no action at all happens? No. I doubt that you got an invitation to that. Because I have no stamps. Apparently though, about a million trillion bugs decided that the party was at our campground in Dade City, Florida this week. And they were definitely. Most absolutely. Quite certainly. Not invited.

Some invitations may get lost in the mail. I get that. But I didn’t invite these party crashers like the gnats and the mosquitos because I can’t keep up with their kind of party. They never stop. Buzz, buzz, buzz. This isn’t an open bar around here.

And I didn’t invite Mrs. Orb Weaver. No. I didn’t invite her. But I actually wasn’t upset about her crashing. Because she was more of my party type. Hang out. Look pretty. Strong but silent type. Mrs. Orb Weaver.

She’s the kind of party crasher everyone wants. She doesn’t eat much and what she does eat she brings to the party with her web. And she has an air about her. Come too close and you’re trapped. Admire from afar. Remain a mystery.

Mrs. Orb Weaver was the talk of the campground and beyond. They heard about her. Her legend was spreading. So many other campers drove to our campground party from far and wide to see Mrs. Orb Weaver. We didn’t hire entertainment, but she was a hit. Every few hours, here would come another car pulling up to look and admire her. I wasn’t even jealous. Because it meant my party was a hit.

You see, you can have a party anywhere. Anytime. And you don’t need an invitation. Even by a dump with smelly things in the wind, this party was a hit for the time we were here. But it’s off to another party tomorrow because the party will be coming to a close.

The best part of leaving this time? Although we say goodbye to family, we have our Digby with us. And we didn’t think we would on Monday. So while you can party, party hardy. But don’t look for an invite from me. I still don’t have any stamps.

Sheriff Peanut Butter Brickle

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Don’t Come Around Here No More

This is Sheriff Peanut Butter Brickle.  I have something to get off my chest.  My very hairy chest.  There are criminals around here that have about pushed me to my limits.  My arrest book is only so big.  (I need another one by the way).  I need about a thousand and one more pages to write all of these names down this week.  Unless they carry me away.  And in that instance, I suppose that I won’t need this book.

This Florida place?  Oh, it is full of a lot of great things.  The beach of course.  And the sunshiney.  Lots of sunshiney.


But it also is full of some residents that don’t care if they chase you.  They bite you.  And then bite you again.  And again after that. I do understand that these ones are just doing what they think that their job should be of biting me.  But I have a job too.  And my job?  The warning has been given.  Don’t come around here no more.

You know, I feel like an old man chasing kids off of my front lawn.  Well, if I had a lawn I would certainly be doing that anyway.


But since I don’t, let me tell you, dear mosquitos.  Let me tell you, dear biting flies on my beach…let me tell you red wasp who bit my mouth.  Yes, I understand I tried to eat you first.  But let me tell you.  My handsome may be tempting to try and replicate.  But you can’t take a bite out of a cookie and become a cookie.  You can’t cut a slice of cake and become a cake.  You can’t even take a spoon, stick it in a peanut butter jar and turn into peanut butter.  But eat enough pancakes like Digby, and somehow, they do end up on your butt.  But. Biting me is useless.  You will never be able to steal this sweetness.

There I am.  Trying to relax by the Big Blue Treat Wagon RV.  Here you come. Rain or shine.  Night or day.  Bite, bite, bite.  Then, I go to the beach at night, and you can’t even leave me alone there.  I suppose that my sweetness is more apparent the more sunshiney I get, but come on. The beach? Come on.  Is anywhere sacred in your book? Your name?  It is now in MY book.  But after arresting so many of you, I asked a question. I posed a question to myself.  What would happen if I actually arrested all of the mosquitos?

As I always do, I have more than one way of looking at things.  That is what I do.  That is what a good Sheriff should do.  You see, as annoying as something may be, more than likely, it is here for a reason and has a job to do.  It quite possibly plays a role in how the world goes around.


Persons have a way of doing away with everything that they think is a nuisance.  But how can we learn to stop harming the environment so that things have a chance to do what they were supposed to do?  Seems everything is out of balance, and then persons try to fix their own mess.  Which makes things worse.  What role do each of us play? We may think there are always quick fixes for things we perceive to be a problem.  But are we causing more problems in the long run?


So this week, instead of trying to fight against an army of residents trying to get me and getting more mad and running out of paper in my arrest book, we changed our schedule to when they are less active.  We walk where there are less of them.  And although it is not fun, or convenient, we attempt to live in harmony.  Because maybe eventually, that song will catch on.  We can dream, can’t we?

-Sheriff Peanut Butter Brickle

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