Isn't it interesting how your eyes can play tricks on you? I came home from work and was getting changed for barn chores while I looked out the bedroom window and into the poultry yard. I froze. Was that a dead bird that the chickens were pecking away at?!? OMG! I raced out the door, shot across the deck and down the stairs to find....the remains of a particularly large red cabbage that my neighbor had tossed in for the hens. This reminded me of being a freshman in college in Michigan, slogging through the snow in December towards class. I was a typical over-sensitive, over-wrought artistic type who had gotten as far away from home as my grades and my budget would allow. I was an art and English major, writing poetry and drawing well into the night. Very over-dramatic. As I slogged along, I spotted a dead rabbit in the snow near a stream bank. Weeping copious tears, I staggered towards the wee dead thing, to see if there was anything I could do. It was a brown paper bag.
I dream of the day when there is a way to deliver a virtual slap to a head. I want to apply it to all the nimrods who meander along the road in front of you and turn - finally - only putting their turn indicator on when they are almost finished with the turn. WHY BOTHER!
As I was standing in the laundry room, waiting to remember why I was there, I wondered what the soundtrack to my typical day would be. I could imagine the Cha-Cha; especially if you could do the steps like so: one step forward, three steps back - cha, cha, cha!
When someone wishes me "A Good One" - what does it mean? A good day? A good life? A good session with my shrink? An excellent cup of coffee? A good stretch? What? I know it shouldn't drive me mad, but - let's be honest here - I am listing toward cranky old lady and it just seems to me to be another example of lazy talk. I even prefer "Have a Nice Day!" At least that has a tad more focus. Pretty soon it will be "Have A Nice". Then "Have". Then we will be down to grunts.
*****There seems to be a preponderance of dead skunks on, by, near the road over this past week. I have a healthy respect for them (as should everyone....) and they do occupy a rather soft spot in my heart. Way back - as in WAAAAY back - I had a pet skunk. These were the days when I was an apartment dweller and no dogs were allowed. Or cats, in most places. But nowhere to be found in the multi-paged leases was reference to skunks. Or hermit crabs. Or button quail. All of which were under my care for a time. Not at the same time, of course. "Pooh" was a cuddly little fellow who went on walks with me in his harness and leash ensemble. There was always a faint whiff of Eau-de-Poo around him, but he had been de-scented. I was forever haunting pet stores and trying to save whatever I could. It's been a lifelong goal. Anyhoo, Pooh and I were quite the team, walking down our neighborhood sidewalks. The only drawback was that, when he got excited or nervous (which was any time there was another person or living thing besides me in range) he would bite me. While I wanted to give him exercise and fresh air as often as possible, we were limited to very early mornings or evenings, out of self-defense. I finally had had enough of serving as a pin cushion and went through a lengthy process of finding him a new home. Which I did, I am happy to say, and he lived a good, long and happy life with a friend in the sticks.
*****Hermit crabs were not the ideal companion for me, as I crave a more cuddly nature. The only time they provided much excitement was when they 'moved house'. I would keep my eye on them and watch for any sign that they had outgrown their present motorhome. Then I would put in an assortment of larger shells and watch. It was fascinating, watching them line up, straddle the new digs with both claws, then hoist their odd, shriveled hineys into the new shell to try it on. But, in the end, it wasn't enough to form a lasting bond.
*****A note to the no-show winners of the cookbook and chicken saddles - If I am not contacted by the end of Friday, I will re-draw (or, in the case of the saddles - reshelve) a new winner.