My mother recently gave Kathy and me some homemade jelly — muscadine and scuppernong.

Now I would have been happy to smear the luscious, viscous semi-solid goo on bread with a little peanut butter, but Kathy wanted it to be more of a special occasion. Who needs a special occasion to eat jelly? But I deferred.

She bought biscuits and maple-flavored pork sausage for a special treat on Saturday morning. The last time we had that combination (or tried to), Marcus interceded. Kathy ate two sausage and biscuits. Marcus, a.k.a. the Biscuit Thief, ate the rest. (Go to GulfCoastNewsToday.com and search for “Biscuit Thief” to read about that episode.)

This time, Kathy decided to take more precautions and keep a closer eye on the 100-pound Old English Sheepdog. Marcus watched her as she fried the sausage on the griddle. He also kept a close eye on the biscuits in the oven. He wanted to make sure she didn’t burn them. But when the biscuits were done and stuffed with sausage, the platter didn’t remain on the counter, where a certain counter surfer was known to frequent. Instead, it went into the other oven. Crisis averted.

I got to have my sausage and biscuit with a smear of jelly on it. I then had another biscuit with just jelly. Marcus seemed to be jealous. Of course, he had already had at least one biscuit. My wife, the old softie, had seen to that. But those sad puppy dog eyes affected Kathy again, so she went and pulled out a plain biscuit.

Holding it in her hand, she told him to “Go sit.” Normally on that instruction, Marcus would make a mad dash to jump on the love seat (his chair) to wait for his prize. With a big dog, you have to make sure you hold things high. After all, he has no problem standing flat-footed and looking at what’s on the counter. But Kathy was a little lax in her technique. She just sort of waved her hand with the biscuit around waist level.

Instead of making the effort to run to his chair, Marcus decided he wanted to conserve his energy. So when she flopped her hand over to the side, he snatched his baked good. Instead of holding a biscuit, Kathy had a hand with teeth marks and a good bit of slobber. Marcus might have lost the Biscuit War, but he won the battle.

Cross-eyed Sunday

Saturday I got a number of little projects done around the house, but it was nice to kick back and relax for the bigger part of the day.

After years of wearing disposable contacts, my new Baldwin County eye doctor suggested that I start taking the contacts out each night. At first, it was because he was making big changes to my prescription and it would give my eyes a chance to rest. I didn’t like giving up the luxury of waking up and being able to see more or less clearly. But the relief it gave my eyes made me keep up the practice.

The nightly habit went without a hitch until Saturday night. I took out the right contact and put it in the case. Then I took out the left one. I always take out both and then fill the chambers with saline before shutting each side of the case. It had always worked without a hitch.

But as I took out the left contact, it popped out of my fingers and fell. That’s why you do it over the vanity. It happens frequently, but I never had any problems. Do you see where this is going?

The left contact fell into the open chamber of the case with the right contact. Of course, it couldn’t fall right on top so I could figure out which came second. It landed right beside the other one. Tired and squinting, I surveyed the scene and took my best guess. I picked the one that MIGHT have been slightly more on top of the other and put it in the left chamber. I knew the real test would be in the morning.

Sunday morning, the new contacts went in. Shaving went fine. But the real test was going to be trying to read something small. Looking at my phone, I could almost make out the fine type without my reading glasses. A quick test revealed the phone was crystal clear in the left eye but more fuzzy than normal in the right eye. My guess the night before was wrong.

A quick reversal led to much better vision.

William Moore is the former Senior Editor at Gulf Coast Newspapers. He can be reached at williamcmoore2@gmail.com