[click image]You're not the only ones who see this.
This morning was dreaming of my father. My beautiful poppa who is, barbarically, locked in a strange place, and I am helpless to save him. He was right in front of me, a little to the right about four feet away, and I was going to go about dreaming, about treating him as a dream element, when it hit me it was my distressed poppa, and as I was making to hug him and never let go, a sharp rapping seemed to be at my door, and I bolted out of bed to nothingness.
This means, among many other things, that I did not get in enough Phase Four and REM sleep again last night. The image of the sleep doctor who was giddy upon looking at the Monkey Island finger paintings readout of my sleep test, actually smiling over the amazing number of abnormalities on those pages, has lurked in the corner of this room all day.
I reeled around for a few moments and then tripped over to start coffee. I forgot to warm my glass mug and it cracked as the hot coffee was dripping in... and proceeded out all over my kitchen counter. I'm triple plus pissed about this because I've had those glass mugs for at least ten years and never forgotten to warm them before putting hot drinks in them in all that time.
After recovering from that, I spent about three hours dealing with tech support at both Apple and my ISP over some fairly crazy-making anomalies thrust at me in bright red here and causing monster alarm. I don't know how many other hours have been spent in testing and running off after nuances too arcane to articulate. Some of it may well be Google. But other of it could possibly be the ISP, but actually probably not. And certainly most of it is a hard drive freakout, and, well, do the math.
I finally went out to sulk and smoke on my mud room/porch steps when I heard the giddy little gigglings of short persons not very far off. It's their big night. They NEVER come clear out here, and yet, and yet, it was unmistakably kids too close for comfort. So I leapt back up, stormed back in, flipped off the front light and ran into the wall.
I have botched even the most mundane motions, each of them, all of them since flying away from my father instead of hugging him until time stops.
It has been a seriously sucky day.
YOU KEEP STARING AT ME............
ReplyDeleteKinda like having a portrait of yer crazy aunt right there in yer face, ain't it? :-P
ReplyDeleteAin't got no crazy aunt!
ReplyDeleteJust you...
And I think that goose is scheming something!
ReplyDeleteI can see it in her eyes.
I lived in this cool little cabin about where the shores of the lake that would have been created by the Auburn Dam would be -- twenty something years ago -- and my kitchen shelves had this great painting of geese behind them... where it was hard to fill them up because it obstructed the geese. My mother got the impression that I was going to develop one of those kitchen theme things so many American women go for... hippos... mushrooms... cats... whatever. She thought mine would be geese, since I was so partial to that feature of my cabin. So. She got me a goose.
ReplyDeleteAlso, this DOES fit a theme, of sorts, since I was the only one who was safe to deal with Fred and Ethyl... our geese. Turned out Fred was the goose and Ethyl the gander, but, well, sexing baby geese is hard and the vet screwed up. Anyway, Ethyl became insanely protective of Fred and wouldn't let anyone near her except me... which... obviously was optimal for FEEDING them.
He scared everyone else. They would watch me make a run at him with my head down my arms out, in response to him making a run at me in the identical manner, and saw how he mellowed right out... deciding wisely that I was the alpha-gander... but they still chickened out. Ethyl was a sterling gander.
Anyway, since my "theme" seems to be John Lennon and MLK... this goose is sentinel to heroes... and... 99....
Before I knew better I used to go to Ansel Hoffman Park and feed bread to the geese. Most were aggressive and fought for the morsels I tossed. But there was one old gray goose who couldn't compete with the others, he just wasn't fast enough.
ReplyDeleteHe would come up to me from behind and gently peck at my thigh then look up at me with begging eyes until I hand fed him. He was always gentle and appreciative.
Of course I now know feeding then is not doing them any good, harmful in fact.
Well, they have to be fed if they're not free range....
ReplyDeleteAnd we had to keep Fred and Ethyl in a specially protected area because of nervous neighbors.
:-P
Wusses.
Hard to say what they were - a conglomeration of domestic and Canadian geese and everything in between.
ReplyDeleteI sure old bread wasn't the best diet for them. I should have brought corn or something like that.
At my parents cabin we had a feeder outside our front windows. We would put out seed for the birds, peanuts for the squirrels and old dried out sweet rolls from the bakery for the others. Skunks, possums, porcupines and raccoons would entertain us at night and the birds and squirrels during the day.
ReplyDeleteOne day I caught a 12lb rainbow trout in Lake Michigan - it was full of roe which we put out in the feeder.
We were rolling on the floor laughing at the antics of about 40 raccoons tumbling over each other trying to get to the roe.
One night while we were sitting watching the feeder a cougar strolled by. It kind of freaked us out - although there were bob cats and lynx around we had no idea there was anything as big as a cougar out there. We kept a closer watch on our dogs after that.
ReplyDeleteI'm probably going to die like that guy who always camped out with the grizzlies.... I croon at mountain lions and bears. For some completely unknown reason big predators and earthquakes and thunderstorms all make me feel PEACEFUL... not the least frightened. I know that's weird.
ReplyDeleteI have a crazy aunt: Aunt Marge!
ReplyDeleteNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
She's crazy and has the meanest temper you ever want to see.