Dopey Stuff
When I start hearing too many crashes, slams, and thuds from the living room, while the Bear is recovering from yet another migraine…
It’s time to get up.
That baby bunny from under the shed – full-grown buck now – munched his breakfast staring passively-taunting at Floozie, pawing the glass.
Puck’s morning included drawing spiders on his small whiteboard that looked very much like pineapples with legs…
“This little guy is so tiny, he has only one eye!”
Then came the jumbo ball with two big eyes…
“His name is Colossal!”
As the Bear left for work, Puck called out to him, “Think about me too! That will make you feel better!”
Moon sand, cats, two new school books, and a bowl of shiny blueberries finished off Puck’s morning.
Chilean apples with lunch?
Yes, I believe the drought has effected us.
I disposed of the first spider I’ve seen since spring – I think – in the hallway.
Brown Recluse.
Fortunately, though it was hanging right around Puck, he didn’t attack.
I think I’ll have to start sending the cats behind the wellies box as well… I knew I hadn’t unleashed the felines in every part of the house yet.
“I think there’s spider eggs in my mouth,” Puck announced several minutes after the battle.
“I don’t think so.”
“There’s a spider leg in my mouth,” he added.
“No…”
“There is! I can feel a little stick!”
He didn’t seem too very concerned.
The Bear and I completed our evening with a little ice cream – no judgments, please – and discussion of newly re-released Myst products.
Nerds.
Thought of the Day
Sometimes I’m a victim of impressions.
Not necessarily first impressions, just impressions altogether. Everyone is. But most specifically, impressions where “things” appear to be something that they’re not… No, it’s really that I wish they were something else, because I’m pretty 97.8% sure they’re not anything close to what I had hoped.
Examples?
I’m everlastingly intrigued by this “South of the Border House” that introduces highway passerby to our – cough – neighborhood. I am amazed at how many people cram themselves into this Virgin Mary box that, yes, the S.W.A.T. team did visit earlier this year. But I can’t help being interested. I like communities of families who almost sardine themselves into small spaces with loud ethnic music, platters of good food, laughing, and conversation in trilling languages I can’t understand. [There’s also that part of me that enjoys watching “Nacho Libre” just because I hope it’s an authentic representation of Mexican culture… maybe forty years ago.]
So maybe it’s socially unacceptable to patronize Chinese restaurants because I’m tempted to look around the counter and hope for a dark incense living area mysteriously cloaked in vases of bamboo and steaming cups of tea…
I just like cultures packed inside of other cultures, little closed-off extended family communities.
It’s impossible to prevent impressions and reputations – as the Bear often reminds me – no matter how hard you try.
But I like my own stories.
Even if they’re only a pin-point true.