Archive for the ‘Wildlife’ Category

1. “De DEER! De DEER!”

2. Two drips run down the dry windshield. Drool from the panther perched in the tree above, just waiting for the poor fool driving to open the door?



1. Lots of them tend to be out at 2, 3, 4am. This I knew, this I drove through in spite of my huge brain. Hah.

2.  Or maybe just wiper fluid…

3. Did you know that owls LOVE to scare the s%*! out of you at night? That one had a wingspan as wide as my truck.

4. One less possum, I’m afraid. Too bad it was the same color as the road, or I might have seen it sooner.

See, I took a road trip yesterday. It lasted 12 hours end to end, and involved listening to a lot of bad words (none of which the inside of my truck has EVER heard. Honest injun), eating pretty yucky food, and hearing a really great concert. It was worth the carnage, the 6 hours driving, and the 5 am bedtime.  

I realized a couple of things, though. Don’t you just love that every dadgummed thing I do turns into some idiotic bout of soul-searching? I do, cuz really, what’s life for if you can’t just over-analyze the crap out of every single fart in a blanket?

Well, now. So. I decided that I can have decent, moral friends, or I can have fun friends. I don’t think I can do both. I like the friends I have, few tho they are, but I realized that if I go where I want to go next year, the set of pals I will have built-in already are more of the college-frat-boozer types, and I just don’t know if I want that. No, I don’t, really. That isn’t a question. The friends I have now are fun, but restricted, since ONE of them is 3000 miles away and the others are the dreaded Married With Children. And jobs. Don’t forget the jobs. 

I got a glimpse of the other side, and honestly, I don’t know that I wouldn’t choose to sit in somebody’s living room and watch tv with their children rather than make a drunken fool of myself on a regular basis.

Ah, crud. Call me prude. Or coward. Whatever works for you. I? am SOOO confused.

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Carnival Games

I used to subscribe to Games magazine, and on the cover or somewhere within the issue there was a photo feature. It was a super-closeup of some ordinary object, and the game was to figure out the object. My version isn’t a closeup, but it isn’t something one would expect to come across in one’s daily journey. Can you guess it? Cheat if you must, since there isn’t a prize anyway…it’s on Flickr, accessible to the right of this post.

Honest guesses will be …well, laughed at if they’re funny, and praised if they’re close. 😉 Have fun…


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I had a busy day Friday. I was at church till 12:30am, finishing my final project for analysis class, and I was back at the church at 10 am to fold bulletins and answer the phone, which only rang once. Cuz the church building, you know, is such an exciting place to be. Have you ever been in a church after dark? It doesn’t matter that you know you’re locked in and alone, and that maybe you walked the building from the time it was a concrete slab to the the installation of the sheetrock, and wired the place for sound yourself, it’s still creepy. After all, the land it was built on had indians! on it at some point, probably, and who knows what ghosts walk the woods? Cuz, really, what better thing does a ghost have to do than scare the snot out of lonely people locked in a church at midnight.

Oh, and it was my birthday.

I ordered myself a cake back in March, but that was before I knew the people I normally spend my BD with were going out of town for the weekend. By the time I found out, it was too late to change the delivery date. I told some other folks to come eat cake, but they didn’t show up. So, cake went home with me intact. I put candles on it – little mini-sparklers and a big “4-0,” cuz you only get one 4-0 – then sang to myself and blew them out. Hurrah. It turned my poop green, grass-green. Not the candle-blowing, the blue dye in the AU decoration. Two real, live people wished me happy, and I got 2 e-mails and 2 cards.

Then, there was Cyndi.

Cyndi rocks. She knows me. Poor girl. She loves me, and most days I am not sure why. Cyndi sent me a care package. Now, don’t get me wrong. I am not all about the gifts, but more about the remembering. Cyndi does both, and that’s good, too. She sent me a bunch of really neat stuff: I’ll post pics soon, but not tonight. I just want to publicly say thanks to her for helping me to continue breathing on a regular basis. Some days, that’s a pretty tall order.

I have a few other people in my life that keep me on my toes. One has days where he is the most attentive, caring, interested-in-being-helpful kind of person a girl could ever want. That’s just to get me to let down my guard, I am convinced. Cause, as soon as I DO? he stands me up with nary an explanation, and usually no sincere remorse. I’ve known him for 19 years now, and I have never let him down. Not once. Even when I had a case of bronchitis so bad I couldn’t walk to the door of my own bathroom without being out of breath, I sang a solo in one of his productions so he wouldn’t have to find a replacement. It would never occur to me to tell him I’ll see him in a couple of hours to do something, and then just not go. I would have to call and apologize profusely. Not him. He could not care less how his actions affect other people, and not just me. The problem is that in 19 years, I haven’t learned to deal with this. I am an idiot. An optimist of the highest order, but only when it comes to this particular person. Slap me, please.

*ducking Cyndi’s swing*

School starts tomorrow without me. It feels weird, and sad, and exciting. I may sleep in, just for spite.

Now to the normal fare. This morning, I was sitting in bed reading the last few pages of The Chronicles of Narnia, when I heard something small in the room. I usually just let it go, cuz I couldn’t find it if I tried, but this one didn’t just go away. I saw something out of the corner of my eye, and when I finally found it, I thought it was a huge bug. I was wondering how I was gonna kill it when I realized it was a little rain frog. I LOOOOOVVVVVVE frogs, but if this cold, damp little thing had landed on my face at 4am? I woulda pooped green all over that bed. I caught it and released it outside, but boy, was I glad I was up to catch it in the first place.

Never a dull moment.


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The Coast is Clear

The large rat that Spooky brought in a few nights ago and lost in my house? walked into the living room tonight.

Captured, removed. Mission accomplished.

It could be worse, of course. A friend of mine has an 5- or 6-foot rattlesnake in the woods next to his house. Somebody saw it crossing his driveway. He has a shotgun, tho, so he’s in good shape. His dogs are stupid, and might not be. They have slow trigger fingers.

Anyway. Just thought I’d let you know. And in case you’re wondering how I could sleep knowing THAT was in the house, I just can’t tell you. I suppose I kinda forgot about it.

NOW. Who’s up for a stay in my guest bedroom??


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Deja Vu, All Over Again

After my last adventure into the great jungle that IS my kitchen, I spent several hours on the net trying to reassure myself that I had done the right thing in releasing the little snake back into the wild. I was not overly comforted, since I really never found a pic that showed my little guy with the word “harmless” anywhere near it. Today, when Boo bounded out of the window and started making odd sounds, I looked out and saw another tiny little slithery. I was happy at first that the little refugee made it, but then a bit worried that I had been wrong about him. She was trying to catch him/her/it, and he was trying desperately to get away, all the while turning and striking to discourage her. I got dressed (you’re welcome, neighbor man) and went to the rescue.

The cats knew I was not happy. They scattered. They left a little too soon, though: I had no idea where the thing was when they ran. Turns out I was standing right on tp of it, and I scooped him up, got one last good look, and released him in the barn. It crossed my mind (ok, it never LEFT my mind) that I had just released my future gruesome murderer 2 feet from my lawn mower. Yay me.

Three hours later, I am fully confident that my baby (babies) are not king snakes, but black rat snakes. I am in possession of a good pic this time, and I will be able to sleep again at night. Plus? I learned a new word in my research: pugnacious. I really already knew it, but it’s not one of those words that just puts itself into a conversation on a regular basis. I could have used it to describe my principal last year. These little guys are pugnacious. Look it up. If I tell you, you won’t remember. For the record? it doesn’t mean “overly sociable.”


As for the rest of my life, I am two projects away from finishing my first year at Auburn. My prophecy of incredible laziness is coming true, and I have to get dressed and drive somewhere to get any work done. Not a problem, apparently, if the assignment is identifying local flora and fauna or reading the comics, or chatting with Cyndi, or reading Mir or Shari.  BUT, next week will be over soon enough, and then school starts, and I DON’T HAVE TO GO! But I ALSO WON’T HAVE A PAYCHECK soon.

I. Will. Be. Fine.

*chanting peacefully, mostly*


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No, no, no, no, NOoo!

I am not afraid of much.

I hate cockroaches, but i am not really AFRAID of them. I catch mice with my bare hands, and all manner of slimy and non-slimy things just make me blink.

When I find something in my house that coils up and comes after me? Not so much happy anymore.

The cats..God love ’em…brought in what appeared at first glance to be a pair of hair scrunchies. Upon closer inspection, it took on the appearance of a miniature timber rattler, and when I scooped it up on a paper plate, it curled and slithered and stared. Then the cats walked up to take a peek.  Holy snakeskin, Bat-thing! It went nuts…striking at both my thumb and, mostly, the cat trying to sniff it. I decided the window would make a nice exit, and dropped it, plate and all, into the back yard.

He (I’ll give it the benefit of the doubt) couldn’t believe his luck. He finally slithered away, to who-knows-where, but I feel certain the little guy’s mom is what scared the bejeezus out of a neighbor who went to my barn to borrow my mower last year. Oh, did I neglect to mention that it was a king snake? Harmless, beneficial, even. A little baby…about as big around as a pencil. He was cute. I wanted to ask him if he understood just how small he was when he was trying to eat all four of us in the bathroom, but somehow I think he understood all too well. Fight or flight, survival of the most vicious. Bless his little reptilian heart. I hope he makes it.

Meanwhile, I had yet another exercise in Lowered Expectations. I apparently don’t say a lot that’s worth hearing, because there are certain people who hear the first three words of what I say and make up their own stories from there. Ok, just one who does that. The others just don’t always remember everything, and why would they, really? Being the center of the universe is a purely subjective thing, after all.

I already had a rule for myself: whenever this particular person wants to do something, he must call me as he is ready to leave to go do it. That saves a lot of stress on my part, sitting in parking lots or staring at empty rooms waiting for him. This misadventure didn’t apply, though, since it involved other people, and since they are really my friends more than his. The result? He stood us all up, having not listened when I told him the time we would meet. The details are not important, just the result. I? am a masochist. In 8 years of working together, I haven’t learned. I just keep thinking the next time will be different. Female history of the world. He once told me he thought the best way not be disappointed in his children’s choices was to keep expectations low…those inside his own head, of course, not what he expects of them as humans. I decided that was a good mantra for our friendship. Trouble is, I can’t get those expectations low enough. 

Nothing particularly funny happened to me today, although the ….uh…hm. Nope. I got nuthin’.

I suppose the Happy Bunny discovery was pretty good. You really need to check that one out. Sooo..till tomorrow!

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So just how DOES one start over at 40? Step one, I think, is to stay up late enough to rescue the three-month-old rabbit kit the cats brought home to torture. Step two is to find someone who has no stake in your emotional stability to tell you how wonderful you are. Step three is to figure out the crap that is keeping you miserable and LET. IT. GO.

I started with step 3. The letting go began a few weeks ago with a long bout of virii tummicus.  Yeah, I cussed the virii in my tummy for well over a week. That managed to shrink my stomach and my appetite, but not the hole I was eating to fill. I have been conscious of the eating thing, trying not to do it any more than necessary, but it hasn’t helped my figure. My conscience, yes. Body, no. Unfortunately, the only thing I can do about the hole is to remind myself of the burdens I escape, rather than the joys I am missing, and to stay away from anyone who makes that longing intense. Not such an easy thing to do, but I am trying.

Step 2 came next. I went to Auburn U for a 2-day seminar last week, and found out that I am a topic of discussion among the faculty.  My arranging professor called me “gifted,” my Media prof wanted permission to show my work around, and the other ed prof thinks I should present said work to GMEA. Um…ok. The arranging guy threatened to hold my grade until I submit my arrangement for publication. He thinks I am amazing, and wants me to stay in touch after the class ends. He’s offered to proof anything I want to send him, as well as call, write letters or e-mails, whatever he can do to get me published. I think that’s pretty cool. So, I must write. For the first time in 20 years, I feel like I am on the right road.

As for step 1, I do the late thing wayyyyy too often. The rescue was cool – Peter wasn’t hurt, and relaxed in my hands when I took him out back to let him go. I read where wild bunnies have a physiological reaction to stress that shuts their bodies down, kills them. I hope this one made it.

Hmm. Not very funny today, sorry ’bout that. Maybe next time the hoots ‘n’ hollers will return to NDN. Till then, say goodnight, Gracie.



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I knew I had beaten the clock for longer than usual. Normally, once a year or so, I find something I have to raise. Most years it’s a kitten, abandoned or stolen or lost by its’ mother. This time last year, I had Harvey, a little blind kitty. Cats are easy, mostly. This morning, though, I sat down to check my e-mail before church, which I NEVER do because I am ALWAYS late, and I saw a corpse.

At least, it was a corpse until it breathed.

I thought it was a turkey chick. My neighbor keeps poultry, so I wasn’t really disturbed. I thought I’d take it home, and all would be well. They got lots of mileage out of this at church, cuz, really. Who wakes up to find a turkey in their living room?

When I took it next door, there were no chicks to be found. There were, however, lots of hungry chickens, and apparently the smooth white top of my foot looks like chicken caviar, cuz, LORD, did they go after it. Bloodshed. Mine. After I explained to them the difference between my feet and corn, and they oo’d and ahh’d and thanked me for the instruction, I went back into the house and put my non-poultry in a shoe box with a heating pad. Of course, now, I am truly stuck. Thank Almighty God for the internet, and I mean that in all seriousness, with genuflections and lighting of incense. Since it’s Sunday, there is no one I can call – but Yahoo knows! Thanks to a quick search, I will try to get it to eat in a few minutes. It drank a little water, which I found out I wasn’t supposed to give it, so there is hope.

I’ll keep you posted. Meanwhile, It needs a name. Suggestions?


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Or maybe, green..but definitely shiny! Also? Don’t forget the little birdie gift I left ya over there under the table! ‘K! See ya!

Tonight, I type from the security of having my own bug hunter behind my head, resting on the top of the window behind me. I started to try to catch him, but then I thought maybe he’s better than Raid for my pitiful lungs, and maybe less encouraging to prospective cancer cells. Yeah, he’s green. Yes, if the cats catch him unawares, he’ll be a rather morbid toy. Yes, if my grandmother had seen him, she would have been off her rocker screaming. HOWEVER. I am snake-girl. Tree-woman. Major Babe of the SGC. A little lizard is NUTHIN’.

I’ve been a bit under the weather this week. I had (have) a rather persistent stomach thing, a discussion of which can only get ugly, so I’ll let it go at that. All such bugs I’ve had in the past couple of years have lasted less than 24 hours. This one? In day four. Suffice to say that while I am hungry and want to eat, I don’t WANT to eat. But as a friend of mine once pointed out, I could not eat for a year, and it might do me some good. I have to remind myself sometimes that love doesn’t keep score, so I have had to stop holding that comment over his head. Still makes a good punch line every now and then. 

So this afternoon, I hadn’t had anything at all since yesterday. I decided I wanted to have sex, so I went to DQ and picked up a Mocha Moolatte’. When I die, I want one of those poured over me right before they close the casket. Use it instead of formaldehyde, too, please, right in the veins. It was gooooooooooooooood. In the afterglow, I got cocky and decided to try some real food. MMM. I opted for some roasted pork and cole slaw. It was enough to make me regret the whole excursion, well, except for the sex/moolatte’. I could never regret that. Afterward, I had to give up trying to work. My mind was on my churning innards, so I packed up and went to visit my obsession for a few. Me Am Idiot. I know this. Shut up.

I hadn’t seen him for almost two weeks, except in passing for a couple of minutes, oh, and that 3-hour meeting at church this morning. But there were others there, so that doesn’t count. I was in withdrawal. Still am, and after today, I am opting to stay that way. The only way to quit the love that consumes your will to live outside of it is cold turkey. I am trying. Sort of. It’s easier if I just stay away, but I still see him a couple of times a week. Those moments are like a fix to a crack addict, and the letdown when the word “goodnight” is uttered is measurable in… in… oh, heck. It’s tremendous. *squinching eyes and concentrating a la Dorothy* Must finish degree. Must move away. Must move on. I know it’s possible, and I know that I can survive alone in a new place, but the thought of leaving…well, it’s scary. Dangit.

That’s a little catch-up, I guess.  Looking up and over, I see little green shiny is still up there, looking rather pleased with himself. At least there will be no mosquito attacks tonight. Can I keep him, mommy? Huh? Can I Can I Can I Can I Can I Can I ?


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So. I’m sittin’ on the potty, looking out the window, when Spooky appears around the corner. If you have read earlier stuff, you know this is not always a GOOD thing. Today she had a mouthful of field mouse, and to get it inside she would have to hop right across my naked lap.

Oh, HECK no.

I shut the window. She looked at me with a “Well, dangit. I just ..but… heck,” look in her eyes, and dropped the mouse. Apparently chasing it in the open isn’t NEARLY as much fun as batting it between my feet under the sofa, or trying to freak me out by staring under some piece of furniture for hours. She dropped it, and bewildered, the poor thing tried to stumble away. I couldn’t watch, but I secretly hoped the mouse would rear up on its’ hind legs and smack the snot out of the cat. Really. How cool would that be?

Pussy Smackdown. Heh.

There are those who hate cats for their hunting abilities, and I must admit they have made me want goldfish on occasion, but they can be so very loving. The headbutts, the snuggles, the curling up by my cold feet in winter. The blood-curdling screams when toes are mistaken for prey. Who could truly hate that?


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