First Concert

Last night my two sons, the college student and the middle schooler, went to the Blink-182 concert. Seven years ago it was my older son's first concert so when he heard they were coming back to town he asked to take his brother to what would be his first concert at the same exact age.

They rolled in just after 11pm, beaming and certain it was the BEST CONCERT EVER! Their father finagled an entrance to the pit up next to the stage
Both caught guitar picks, icing for a perfect night.
Amazingly both got up with no problem this morning - probably so they can boast bragging rights to classmates.

A Tuesday Trend

A change in weather and waking up waayyy too early I find myself very sluggish this morning and forgoing my walk. Through my super OCD record keeping skills it turns out that I've only managed ONE Tuesday morning walk. One. As in there is an issue with Tuesday mornings?

At work I have come to the realization that Monday's are incredibly difficult because I never know what I'm walking into. There is just no way to predict how that day is going to play out, what emergency is waiting for me, what catastrophe is just minutes away. Monday have been consistently inconsistent. Tuesday's on the other hand are cleanup for Monday. Whatever had been originally on my plate will finally be addressed on Tuesday as well as any finishing touches for Monday's surprise projects.

I guess Tuesday morning is just too much for me to drag out of bed, knowing what I will be walking into.

Is not knowing better?

Wedding Day Weather

Yesterday I got married! We won't get into the fact that I married my first husband exactly 22 years ago on the same day, something he finds riotously funny.... well I do too. Maybe this time I can get it right?

The day started off with walk. I was immediately struck by the big fluffy clouds. Once I came in view of the seminary bell tower the sun was coming up and the most glorious beams were breaking through the clouds. It was something I call "Jesus Clouds" - you know those clouds with beamy sunrays that are on inspirational posters quoting Bible verses? Rather appropriate over a seminary, no?


As soon as I made my way back into the house rain started to fall. It didn't last very long, but ominous clouds filled the sky.

My plans for the day included the company picnic and I was on the planning committee. By the time I met up with a coworker the sun came back out and we figured we were safe for a picnic. Right.

After we unloaded the cars at the park pavilion I snapped a picture of the next set of ominous clouds.
We managed to hold a picnic with the rumbles of thunder in the distance, but the rain skirted to the north of us and we had a pleasurable day.

The moment I got into the car to begin my marital journey raindrops hit the windshield and the skies opened up. I haven't heard from my coworkers if they were doused or not, but it made for a wet ride.

Two hours later, when I pulled up to my mother's house, the clouds disappeared and the sun joined us allowing for an outdoor wedding. It was beautiful and perfect.

Once the paperwork was signed and the witnesses were on their way home the clouds and thunder rolled back in. Pretty amazing, don't you think?



If you want a rundown of the wedding itself, I blogged about it on another site, not exactly sure if my mother would make her way to THIS blog, but it is possible and certainly do not want her reading the other. The language is raw and not appropriate for those with delicate eyes.

The Sounds Of Silence

Simon and Garfunkle sang about a post-apocolyptic silence but they totally missed the ones that happen in nature.

Snowfall

You don't think of that silence, can't even conjure it up in your head, until snowflakes start drifting around you and there, aha, is the absolute silence that is snow. It's a beautiful silence, not eerie. Now fog has it's own brand of quiet, more muffled, definitely eerie. It's strange how all of the little sounds seem to keep happening with fog, but like I said muffled, yet during snow everything just stops. Maybe it's to take in the beauty of snow falling out of the sky. It's pretty awesome and that right there is why I love snow.

All of this came to mind this morning as another unique sound enveloped me. Overcast early morning.

Okay, now I've really lost it, right? But there is a sound that hasn't struck me until just today and that was the muffled, eerie whistling of the highway. Most of my life I have lived less than a mile away from a highway so this is a familiar sound. It happens only the early morning. It's more pronounced in the wee hours not because the highway is busier than any other time of the day, but because the rest of the world is quieter allowing the highway sounds to consume the air.

It also brings a physical response to me - nausea. Isn't that lovely?

We can blame it on my freak family that insisted any travel MUST begin prior to sunrise. That means dragging me out of bed at times like 3 and 4 am. I am not a morning person. I cannot jolt out of bed and start buzzing around with daily chores and hold lively conversations. Actually if I jolt out of bed I feel queasy. Very much a low blood sugar issue. I am slow and sluggish, not very alert, and certainly not chatty. My preferred method of strolling out of bed involves laying in bed for several minutes, maybe an hour, THINKING about the fact that I ought to get up. Or listening to music.

This is why my daughter was the most astonished about my morning walks, "You don't eat breakfast first????"

Yes I am very much a fanatic about breakfast and usually am not operable until some food has hit my stomach. But I manage to get out of bed (after a few minutes of thinking about it), get dressed and take my walk. Totally amazing. I even write these blog entries before eating. Now if you wanted to hold a conversation? Completely out of the question. I can barely be civil.

So today I heard the eerie whistling highway sounds. It sang to my stomach before my head could register the sound. It reminded me of motels and morning nausea and car rides that would go for a couple of hours before my parents would feed me breakfast and motion sickness. The only thing to soothe that beast is the smell of pancakes, bacon, and coffee - the smell of Denny's or a breakfast joint. The smell of sweet relief.

I think we'll have pancakes and bacon for dinner tonight.

Walking the Dog

A gentle rain greeted me for this morning's walk. I detoured the park and just made a simple lap up and down my street. There is enough incline to almost constitute a hill, in other words make me gasp for air. It reminds me of people who walk their dogs.

I live on a street where it must be mandatory to own a dog. I failed to read the decree and thus own no dog. One kind lady brings her giant horselike poodle to my frontyard to that little strip of land between the street and the sidewalk to allow the beast to pee. I am grateful that no larger loads are deposited, but still, I have been known to dart to my car barefoot so that means I'm wading through dog urine. Lovely.

I think of all the people in this neighborhood that routinely walk their dogs, dutifully carrying plastic bags to clean up any mess. Yesterday I drove past an apartment with a man sitting on the steps loosely holding the leash while the dog did his business. The look on the dog's face, yes there was in fact a look, was despair. Don't dogs want privacy? At least to be able to duck behind a tree away from the eyes of the world?

Having owned a dog, I understand the need for one to get outside. We had the good fortune of having a fenced yard so routine walks morning, noon and night weren't necessary. Just open the door and let him run. He chose a secluded spot behind the garage to attend to his needs and then came prancing back to the door to come in. If he had an extra burst of energy he would run around the yard, dig holes and flip the motorcycle-tire-chew-toy around a few times. On days like today with a gentle rain he would stand in the kitchen trying to will his bladder into submission, doing the pee pee dance, to avoid going in the rain. Yes an eighty pound pit bull was scared of getting wet.

So I wonder on today's walk, why can't dogs be box trained like cats? Has anyone tried it? With a huge dog like my pit bull that may not be all that savory of an idea, but what about those miniature teacup sized beasts? The ones smaller than a guinea pig? Surely they would revel in the idea of not having to wait for mom or dad to return home? They have a house large enough to expend their energy so the only reason to take one on a walk is something that could be resolved with a plastic tub and cat litter. Right?

Yes, I solve all of the world's problems on my walks. You can thank me now.

Nervous Nelly

As I approached the park for this morning's walk a white pickup truck pulled into the parking lot. A man got out and grabbed a duffle bag from the back. Okay, that is enough to make anyone a little nervous. I kept walking so I guess the murderer had his sights on someone else.

Crap, I forgot to look at his license plate. Well I'm no good to the police when they start asking questions!

It dawns on me how UNnervous I am about strangers, open spaces and well anything. My mom is the same way too. But my grandmother sure isn't. She is the quintessential Nervous Nelly. She is always worried about strangers, locking down the house and keeping a death grip on her purse.

She suffers dementia so it would make sense she would be so nervous, but she has been this way for as long as my mother can remember. What on earth would happen to someone to be so scared of everything?

Like many people of her generation she doesn't trust banks and practically hoards every supply she can get her hands on. It was no surprise when she moved out of her condo that I came across a tin of paprika from the 1950's. I'm not sure how much of the contents were paprika and how much was rust. She reluctantly let go of her collection of washed out bread bags and twist ties. When she moved out of her house in Los Angeles my grandma left behind a secret built-in safe that I am quite sure the new occupants are totally unaware of. Isn't that awesome? A secret built-in safe? You would think of something like that for a house built before 1920 or some magnificent mansion, not a track home in San Fernando valley. The best I ever found when I moved a few years ago was a set of small antique dolls stashed away in the top of a closet.

But as far as my grandmother goes her generational distrust of "the man" isn't overwhelming, just amusing. Her mistrust of everyone else is what's so incredible. She is the type to not want a serviceman in her house and would follow one around relentlessly to ensure her collection of cheap earrings aren't plundered. Hiring a maid is beyond question. Grandma would never trust someone else to clean her house, not because they couldn't clean it to her high standards but because she is afraid of being robbed blind.

When I look through old pictures of my grandmother I see a confident young woman. She drove across the plains with her grandfather and best friend to join her parents in Los Angeles.

This is not something the nervous old woman I know and love today would ever do. It seems so incongruous to her overall make up. She was the bold strong one. Well she is still bold and strong, just scared to death of everyone around her. How on earth she tolerates the nursing staff is beyond me.

One Month

After one month of dragging my ass out of bed and schlepping around the park don't you think I would finally get to the point of it being as regular as brushing my teeth? Not something I argue with myself about? The worst that happens with my teeth is I get to work, smack myself in the head for FORGETTING to brush. I don't whine in my head like I did to my mom in school - I don't wanna get up.

I actually slept in two days ago. That was okay because after I got up I realized it was raining really hard. And I permit myself a day here and there of not going. But I'm not launching out the door in exuberance. I was sort of doing that in the beginning.

Oh wait. I get it. That beginner's excitement that wanes. OH!

So I just need to suck it up and keep with it. On today's walk I came to the realization that when it's really cold and dark that we will have a time change so it shouldn't be quite so dark out. Hey that's cool. It won't change the temperature any and that is a huge problem. Then I will start whining about stupid Missouri weather all over again.

The St. Louis Corridor

Pulling out my soapbox and ranting to an empty room (I think this qualifies as insanity).

I've come to the conclusion that all of the local newscasters live in the same apartment complex. Well, maybe they live in houses, but they must be on the same street. I say this because they all say the same narrow comments when reporting the news, regardless the network. There is a magical corridor that spans from the Gateway Arch, down Highway 40 (the name changed to Hwy 64 several years ago, but we're slow to adapt to change around here) to Lindbergh Boulevard. The corridor is a wedge with Highway 44 creating a southern border also running from the Arch to Lindbergh.

Newscasters and traffic reporters cannot seem to learn street names or major intersections outside this narrow corridor. Just this morning they were reporting a home invasion "at Dunn Road and 270". Um, Dunn Road runs the length of Highway 270 across the greater width of the northern portion of St. Louis County. They do not intersect.

Maybe when big snazzy newscaster gets a job in St. Louis, someone should take them on a field trip outside the 40/44 corridor? Show them how people in Florissant consider themselves as St. Louisans just as much as someone from Dogtown? That people in Arnold are not all redneck hillbillies and North County is not rampant with gang members. Both communities are filled with newer homes and well manicured lawns and residents who passionately love where they live.

We get that the cool people live inside the 40/44 corridor. We even visit the cool points of interests inside that corridor. But for the greater portion of the viewing audience, we live and work outside the corridor and we get sick of the mispronunciations and little flubs that aren't all that hard to get right. We are not outsiders, we are part of the same community, albeit not inside the magical corridor. It just gets old.

SpaceBook

The man in my life, The Don, or as I like to call him, Costco King, always talks about "SpaceBook". And yes, he is trying to say "Facebook" but in true geezer style, screws it up. But he's not a geezer and he will quickly point out to you that I am older than him (by a freaking year).

You have to admit for someone not using MySpace or Facebook it's an easy flub. He resisted joining the social networking scene, but then a couple of months ago his brother whined on the phone that he needed more people in his mafia and bam, The Don became a Facebook Mafia Wars whore. Sibling rivalry and old fashioned male competitiveness kicked in and now our conversations revolve around hits, loot, and doing jobs. Eavesdroppers would be convinced that we are linked to the St. Louis mafia and I wouldn't be surprised if they are calling the police with tips. We can't have another Gambino family crime wave like in the 80's now can we?

Everyone is talking about the explosion of popularity of Facebook that has happened in the last year. In May 2008 I was pulled into a meeting where I was informed that our non-profit company needs to get on the bandwagon because the next boom will be in social networking. I had absolutely no idea what the hell she was talking about. I had heard of MySpace and Facebook, but Twitter? No clue.

Actually I had, well still do, a MySpace page. I had set it up a couple years ago to see what my kids were getting into. I was appalled by the personal information kids were displaying for all the world to see. It was a child preditor's wet dream and I spent a lot of time preaching to my kids about not revealing too much. Overall I wasn't impressed by MySpace. It was too self-indulgent and everyone had pages with garish wallpaper that hurt my eyes and blaring songs that I really didn't want to hear. Now who's the geezer?

So I figured Facebook was more of the same and I never ventured over. I even avoided it when it was suggested that we should investigate using it for work, you know being the IT goddess and all. I just couldn't wrap my mind around how this would be advantageous as a marketing tool.

And then it happened. Early December 2008 I was hit from two different angles in my personal world at the same time. A group of friends were playing Fashion Wars on Facebook and were addicted to it and my daughter was sick of trying to send me pictures through email. Both insisted I sign up. And that was the end of my productiveness.

Ha! I've never been productive. I am the queen of goofing off. But this Facebook thing sure was attractive. Almost immediately I started connecting with people I had lost touch with years ago. And as I talked about these connections, naysayers would tell me in snide tones that they had kept in touch will all the people they needed and didn't want to resurrect any old bones out of their closets. Well, bully for them! I wasn't quite so fortunate and there had been a few people that I had tried from several angles to contact and was unsuccessful. Not once but several times I have found people from my childhood that I had written off as lost forever.

And no, we don't write to each other daily now that we have reconnected. But it's nice to see the little updates that fill their lives. Congratulations to Jeff on his new engagement and to Heidi on becoming a grandmother. I cannot explain how happy I am to know what happened to these people and so many others after we left school. They remained in my memory and for the ones that didn't attend the same high school or graduate the same year, I would have never known if they were dead or alive. It's interesting to see how everyone has changed and in so many ways have stayed the same.

I've also connected with people that never really registered on my radar back in the day. That too is interesting and surprisingly, some have pictures and memories of ME. That's a little jarring. And then there are all of the friends, if just superficial, that I have added for game purposes. Some of them are regulars on the update channel and have some interesting stuff going on.

Yes, it is a little weird that I have allowed absolute strangers into my world. And this is why I like Facebook over MySpace. I have say over who can and cannot be on my friend list. And I can control how much they see. Most of my photographs are locked down pretty tight as is my personal information. They can see my status updates and that's about it. Well and my ongoing game info.

And yet all of the pundits are astonished at the magnitude of the Facebook explosion. I'm not. For the past eight years I have been on a messageboard. It started out as a discussion group for a specific book. We were predominately women in our 40's and 50's and a smattering of 30's and 20's. We found a safe haven to play, bitch, and comfort. We swapped recipes, talked about other books, recommended movies and shared baby pictures of our kids and grandkids. We have crashed several servers, driven messageboard administrators insane and dealt with our fair share of trolls. We have been social networking for nearly a decade, we just didn't know there was a name for it!

Our messageboard activity has dropped drastically since the invasion of Facebook last winter. The posts trickle in. But over on the Facebook side of things we have our status updates, sharing pictures and soapboxes, and our games. I doubt the messageboard will completely wither away as it is the last refuge for bitching and bellyaching, but most of the playing and sharing is now happening elsewhere. It's a little sad, really.

But then there are things like this coming Saturday. My graduating class is holding a somewhat impromptu 25th reunion. After our 20th we weren't really sure about pulling off another party that size in another five years. It seemed, well, excessive. Yet the Class of 1984 has all managed to make their way to Facebook and now that we are catching up in the virtual world, it would be kind of nice to do it again 3D.

So social networking has paid off. In six short months an entire graduating class has found each other, many becoming friends that had previously avoided each other. This reunion should be really entertaining, as if the last one wasn't?

There is another reunion slowly coming together as well - the kids I knew from elementary school back in Oregon. We had all scattered to the wind. I have tried in vain to find these people and bit by bit we are reconnecting. This is harder as many of us attended different high schools and now live in different states. I am surprised how weak my memory has become as some of the names don't even register. My yearbooks have been dusted off and soon I am going to have to appeal to my mother, who has just recently joined Facebook!!!! AUGH! I need to pilfer through her pictures and miscellaneous stuff that she has saved from my childhood. I wonder when I will finally be allowed to have it in my own possession? Well, I don't remember Ron Holiday. I sort of do, when I say Ronnie Holiday. I think he was a red head, but that was really dusting off some old rolodex cards from the back corners of my memory!

Just the same, I'm glad to finally be making these connections. I should send a thank you note to my daughter and that messageboard friend from Los Angeles.

I am a SpaceBook convert.

Walking Music

I was just hooked up with a site where you can download podcasts with sets of walking music. Rather cool, don't you think? When i remember to sync my ipod and then actually take it with me I'll let you know how it works out. Chances are it will end up being driving music.

http://www.kissmyblackass.org/?page_id=86

Totatoes

This is the first year that I am growing tomatoes. Well, let me qualify that, voluntarily growing tomatoes. There was one year that a tomato fell out of the trash can and its seeds sprouted in the spring. Conveniently they came up next to a chainlink fence so I was able to tie them as they grew. I think I got ONE tomato off the fence that year. Possum and squirrels beat me to the punch on the others.This year it was decided that we will grow tomatoes. We had two large terra cotta planters and one smaller plastic one. I found the perfect place with full sun to put them on the south side of the house. I added a bell pepper in two of the pots. I also planted three marigolds in each. Unfortunately we started late in the season and got the plants in the soil in early June.

I watched and watered all through July. They sprouted up like weeds and blossoms all over the place. The smaller planter was not draining at all and the tomato plant was dying. It was moved into a larger container and immediately came back to life.
With a quirky growing season I haven't harvested many tomatoes. They are ripening up to two at a time. The vine is loaded with future tomatoes, hopefully an early frost doesn't hit us because I could easily have tomatoes well into November.

Obama Addresses The Little Children

Oh holy crap. The country has lost its ever loving mind. I cannot even wrap my head around the controversy with the President of the United States of America wanting to directly address school children.

People are all up in arms, calling their school boards, threatening to pull their kids out of school, how dare schools buy into this liberal plot to infect America's youth. "It reeks of Hitler."

Seriously?

No really, SERIOUSLY????

This, from people who rushed out to buy flags in the wake of Sept 11 and profess their patriotism. The ones who followed President Bush with fervor and accused anyone who so much as thought to question the man was an unpatriotic heretic, no better than the terrorists who tried to destroy our country. Wrapped in smug patriotism those same people are "scared" of President Obama and accuse him of trying to ruin our democracy... isn't that the epitome of UNpatriotic?

Nothing pisses me off more than hypocrisy.

President Obama IS OUR PRESIDENT! He is holding the same office and deserves the SAME respect as ALL presidents who preceded him. You don't have to like the man, but dammit respect the office.

Did I like President Bush? No. Did I agree with Bush's policies? No. Did I respect him as the President of the United States of America? YES. Why? Because I love my country and the democracy that allowed someone I do not agree with to lead us.

Hey, conservatives, suck it up like I had to for eight years. I didn't stay quiet. I argued against decisions and questioned policies. I got mad. But I did NOT accuse the President of trying to ruin our country. Be a better American. Argue the politics, but don't resort to a smear campaign. It's low and it's not necessary and it's riling up the uneducated and uninformed. YOU are doing the damage, not the President.

Stew

I have crazy names for my pets. Yes, I actually name a pet rabbit STEW. It's pretty sick, I know.

It all started with a yellow cockatiel that we bought shortly after we got married. His name was, Dinner. He was pretty annoying and never became finger trained, probably in retaliation for his crappy name. The elderly lady next door to our apartment was in a wheelchair. Every morning she would make toast and every morning her smoke detector went off for a long time until she was able to bat a dishtowel at it enough times to clear the smoke and silence the alarm. So the bird picked up the screeching sounds of the smoke detector. It was quite lovely.

A few years later we were living in an old house. We were preparing to get cable and needed to clear some space for the new lines. Directly under the livingroom was a dirt floor root cellar. Previous occupants had filled the shelves with all sorts of crazy items including a pink sewing machine that we ended up giving to a babysitter. That day however, we noticed the faint mewing of a kitten. My then husband rooted around toward the back of the room and found three itty bitty kittens nestled together, but only one was alive. We named him Gilligan, however he didn't make it through the night. Later in the day we noticed the sound of another. He pulled out this contraption with a long tube. It looked like something belonging to a car, but he said it belonged to an oil stove. It took some time to dismantle the object. At the end of the tube was a solid casing around a fan. Wedged in there was a grimy kitten.

Before we could feed her I had to wash her. A bucket of Dawn dish detergent slowly revealed an orange tabby. From her oil encrusted beginnings it was obvious that I had to name her, Gearhead. Gearhead was a loyal pet for many years. The kids remember her for chasing them up and down the basement stairs. She liked to perch in the basement rafters scaring the shit out of me in the laundry room. She was queen of the castle and when we brought home a pitbull puppy she quickly taught him the pecking order. There was nothing funnier than watching the two wrestle - a huge 80 pound dog having his ass kicked by an 8 pound cat. Clearly he let her win as he could have killed her in one swipe. When he tired of having his face scratched he would pin her down with his front legs until she was able to scramble out and run away.

The pitbull was named, Bandit, by the kids. I had no say. If they had let me I would have gone for a traditional name, Spot, due to the giant brown spot between his eyes. I was overruled.

One day after I had finished my shift as a cashier at the grocery store I found a cage next to my car. It had a white rabbit inside and bags of food and bedding on top. I never discovered where it came from. I lugged it all home and we decided to name our newest pet, Stew. Yes, Rabbit Stew. Stew lived with us for a couple of years. I made sure to have Bandit and Gearhead locked in another room when we let Stew out of the cage. He was rather timid and spent most of his time hiding behind the furniture. On Christmas Eve one year, he had been out for a very long time. I ushered him back to his cage and went to bed. The next morning I noticed that he was a little lethargic. After the Christmas morning mayhem was over, we quietly pulled him from the cage so as not to attract the attention of the children playing with their new toys. It took some time to figure out what was wrong. I tried to coax him to drink a little water and then I made the horrible discovery. Stew had been chewing on the wallpaper the night before and managed to GLUE HIS MOUTH SHUT!!!! Before I was able to wash the glue off his mouth he had a seizure and died in my husband's arms. We had a fake burial that the kids watched from the front window - the ground was too hard and Stew made an unglorious exit via the trashcan.

I'm sorry Stew.

I was forbidden from naming later pets. The children took over that duty. For a short time we had a kitten named Joey Tribbiani.

Amanda had Rufus.

Ian had Captain Jack Sparrow.

We inherited four birds - two parakeets and two cockatiels. The cockatiels were Malachai and Baby Bird. Malachai kept his name since he is the devil incarnate. Baby Bird, however, was renamed Barnibus. Actually he has a much longer name than that, I just don't remember it.

I already had one parakeet, Skeeter, that I received from a customer at a candle party. She didn't like his noises and wanted to get a dog. Skeeter was a fantastic pet. He was finger trained and enjoyed riding around on my shoulder.

The two new parakeets that came with the cockatiels were unnamed. The blue one received the name, Dewey, and the green one, Shrek. That lasted until Shrek started laying eggs so I renamed her Fiona. Skeeter and Fiona became the proud parents of two hatchlings that I finally was able to name - Squeek and Squawk.
(Fiona is fluffed up sitting on Squawk and Squeek, prefeathers, is nestling next to her)

It will be a while before I have any more pets. I am unattached to the birds since Skeeter died last year. When a pet does come my way, I'm pretty sure it will get an off the wall name, just like all of its predecessors. At least I used normal names for my kids!

Hit In The Head

Do you have squirrels?

Once I was visited by a woman and her father. They were from Canada and evidently did not have squirrels. They were amused by their cute little faces and endless antics. And let's be honest, they are entertaining. That is, until one has chewed through your kitchen screen, devoured an entire loaf of bread and then spaz out when you come home and try to "scoot" him out with a broom so that he does body slams on your giant picture window and then hides in some mysterious spot INSIDE your couch only to be chased out by your cat and then out the front door. Yeah, they stop being cute then. Or when they nest in your attic and chew through your cable. Or when they dig up each and every potted plant in your yard. Their antics aren't quite so entertaining anymore.

I forget all of that when I look out the window and see three young squirrels chase each other up and around a tree trunk and do flips and flying leaps as they wrestle. They are cute. Then they remind me what jackasses they are when I take my walks and get pelted in the head by acorns. Or when I run outside to discover the source of plip plip plip BAM and see tiny bartlett pears come rolling down my roof and onto my aluminum awning.


Or when they terrorize your bird feeder. This picture is several years old. The bird feeder had been a housewarming gift and spent possibly one month hanging from the tree before its suspending rope was gnawed to pieces. It didn't take me too long to relent and just put it out where the squirrels could easily access it.

I'm pretty sure they are the ADD sufferers of the animal kingdom. In all of their cuteness they are incredibly forgetful so they expend an amazing amount of energy searching for the nuts they buried just yesterday. And in the spring you find itty bitty oak trees sprouting in the damnedest places, like your untended planters and the BBQ pit.

I wonder what it's like to live in Canada?

In Which Nothing

One of the blogs I regularly follow is by a fabulous author, Deanna Raybourn. She begins her blogs with "In which". It's kinda cool having a regular ketch like that. I've thought about doing something similar but it would be a total copycat and I would never want to disrespect her like that. I also would forget to use it or somehow come up with something that wouldn't fit all of the time.

Deanna has a gentle flow to her writing and it's obvious she has nearly memorized the literary greats. Her blog reads like something from Emily Post referring to "gentle readers" and nowhere, I tell ya, NOWHERE can you find a swear word. You certainly won't catch her appealing to a little boy's toilet humor or discussing the beershits.

Her books are written in a similar fashion based in nineteenth century England. She has researched her topic well and while she uses the over-abused British "u", it's an easy and enjoyable read. You certainly don't feel like she's talking down to you or over your head. By all means go out and pick up her books.

I've come to grips with my writing style and it is nothing like Deanna's. On the upside, I've found someone with a similar style and we are collaborating on our first writing project, hopefully book. It's kind of exciting to see it come to fruition. One day I will be encouraging you to make a purchase of one of my works!!!!

BLAH

As I read through past postings I'm a little bored. This reads like a freaking diary. "Dear diary I took a walk" BLAH!!!

I cry laughing every time I read The Bloggess. SHE is funny. She obviously has ADD. I totally follow her line of thinking or lack thereof.

So I will try to kick it up, make it more interesting, more fun, more... me.

........................

Yes today was another walk. In the parking lot was something akin to a traveling Curves shop. Seriously. There was a SUV with a bunch of exercise equipment strewn out behind it. Three women were working out with the equipment, a fourth jogging in circles. It's one thing to go to a gym and work out, it's another to get up before dawn, meet up with other exercise freaks, drive to a park, get out the equipment and start working it.

I don't know, that's too much effort. I mean I just jump out of bed, change clothes, put on shoes and grunt at my son before waltzing out the door. Bam I'm out and back in fifteen minutes. It's practically no effort at all.

Meeting up with people? In the morning? That really violates my morning prerogatives. It would involve being pleasant and engaging in mindless, friendly chatter. Holy crap I am soooo not up to that. I prefer not to talk in the morning. If I have to I'm usually annoying. It sounds happy and chipper but it's an act. It's how I am able to belt out bad opera to wake my kids.

Seeing those women in their cute workout clothes, bouncing up and down - ugh. It pissed me off. Go hide in a gym like a decent person. But I know they won't. They want the world to see their efforts, they flaunt it. I bet they also spend their lunch hours reciting the total caloric count of breakfast and lunch to their less diet-inclined coworkers. Poor saps. If their coworkers were in better shape maybe they could muster the strength and imagination to strangle the bitches. Kinda ironic, huh?

5:38 AM

I have frequently said if I wanted to see the sunrise that I would stay up rather than get up to see it. And yet, here I am, voluntarily crawling out of bed at dawn to hike around the local park. Besides the obvious health benefit, I am getting to see some really great sunrises.

This morning's walk started out in the dark. It was almost eerie especially as I came to the section of the path completely canopied by trees. Again the soccer fields were covered in a light fog but it was also up on the pathway. Instantly it reminded me of the sunken garden in college. It was in the foundation of a long-ago burned building, quietly nestled behind the Joseph Baldwin memorial. After a long night of "studying" I would walk across campus, diverting to the sunken garden to hang out for a few minutes. The fog was thick, muffling the regular sounds of night. It was too awesome, too comforting for it to be spooky. I kept out of my mind the reports of old Joseph Baldwin roaming the gardens in specter form. Maybe he knew I was there in peace and appreciation to try to haunt me.

As I neared the softball diamonds the sky was lightening. It's impossible to not be poetic when nature paints such gentle strokes of pastel above you. Then my mind wandered to that crazy roadtrip with my brother. We had driven through the night to cross Kansas. Around 4 AM we pulled over in a gas station parking lot to catch a few zzz's. After 2 hours of napping we woke up to the most glorious sunrise.
Maybe the photograph doesn't quite capture the essence - flat fields as far as you can see with the gentle strokes of pink and lavender overhead. It was the same no matter what direction you looked. Being from the land of trees it was stunning to see that sunrise can envelope the entire sky.

This morning was almost chilly. I'm hoping that the walks continue to inspire curiosity as well as great memories. I hope I don't bore of any of it, but cold temps could easily keep me inside.

Week Two

I'm keeping up with my morning walks! YAY!!!!

I've missed a few days here and there, but I'm not beating myself up for it especially since the next day I get out the door. There aren't any roosters in this urban area, no we have bunny rabbits and squirrels. Lots of 'em. Today, however, it was the robins that stood out. They were particularly active crossing my path at several different points. Of course there were still plenty of rabbits and squirrels.

Like most mornings a little fog was lingering over the soccer fields. I took my camera and got a few shots of it.
I like this one as it captures the fog and the sunrise. The belltower is pretty cool too.

The camera was a little bit of a pain in the ass so I probably won't continue bringing it with me. I get a pretty good stride going and have to hold the camera so it doesn't bounce around my chest. Getting bruised on the morning walk might deter me in the future.