Squirrel with Apple

Here is a shaky video, shot earlier today, of a squirrel, and an apple. From far away it looked like a tennis ball.

There are many facts at squirrels.org. This one was cool: An adult squirrel normally lives alone. But will, in severe cold, share its nest with other squirrels to conserve body heat. Once the temperature rises, the guests will be on their way.

Patterns

A long time ago, somebody pushed a button hard, having known exactly what my buttons are, and told me that I'm always going to be a drifter, that I'll always "bounce from job, to job, friends to friends," and that I'll "never have a career."

In some ways that is true, though if a career is code for "fulfillment," than at least I feel as if I've had that for the majority of my life, though it comes from writing, which I've been doing ever since I learned how to write, thus making assertions like "You'll never have a career" roll off me, though naturally at the time those words were spoken I wanted to jump off the nearest cliff. Because I believed them.

.... Now, I know that's not true. I am a writer that does other stuff, and I do not desire to be an SVP of sales, just to sell enough to get by, and have health insurance, and time to write. I'm going to defer to lyrics from a favorite song, sung by an endearing Japanese guy because the original version's embedding was disabled by request. Typical.


"Patterns" by Simon and Garfunkel

The night sets softly
With the hush of falling leaves,
Casting shivering shadows
On the houses through the trees,
And the light from a street lamp
Paints a pattern on my wall,
Like the pieces of a puzzle
Or a child's uneven scrawl.

Up a narrow flight of stairs
In a narrow little room,
As I lie upon my bed
In the early evening gloom.
Impaled on my wall
My eyes can dimly see
The pattern of my life
And the puzzle that is me.

From the moment of my birth
To the instant of my death,
There are patterns I must follow
Just as I must breathe each breath.
Like a rat in a maze
The path before me lies,
And the pattern never alters
Until the rat dies.

And the pattern still remains
On the wall where darkness fell,
And it's fitting that it should,
For in darkness I must dwell.
Like the color of my skin,
Or the day that I grow old,
My life is made of patterns
That can scarcely be controlled

The Creepy Bug and Even Creepier Album

My cat killed this bug, pictured. I am clueless as to what type of bug it is, and wonder if it's a centipede? A baby cockroach? Here is a shot of it in its last moments of life. Any help as to what kind of bug it is would be great. I am hoping it's harmless, and doesn't have a colony somewhere like ants.

The bug had crawled down the wall, and then behind my records, where I pushed them back a bit. Ironically it was crawling on the back of a live songs, and speeches from Nazi Germany album when Koji swiped the bug off, and batted it to death, though he did not eat it.

It's an eerie record, and while it might seem weird that I own it, as a Jew of Eastern European descent I also see it as an important piece of history, and a historical record, no pun intended. Having also forgotten that I own it until now, I am going to listen to it, as well as turn it down when I call this recruiter back. Lest she think I'm insane. If I were an HR person interviewing someone with a Nazi rally in the background I'd probably find a way to say goodbye fast.***

Mystery solved- a house centipede, harmless (http://lancaster.unl.edu/pest/images/CentipedeMillipede/housecnt.jpg)

Interview over- no Nazi music. Maybe The Swell Season.

Prolific, or Just Too Much Time on My Hands?

So, I decided to begin printing the weekly neighborhood eNewsletter, and make it available at a local cafe.

It's 11 pages.

Sadly, this was going to be a small holiday issue, with just a bit of news. I guess this is what happens when I get bored. What a testament to my lack of a real life! I think when I had a boyfriend I was averaging seven printed pages.

Max & The Fairy Godmother Card

I am not a fan of calling older people "cute," but "Max"* is one of those people that is just, well, cute.

He said I have permission to blog about him, though I'm not sure he knows what a blog is. He also told me last Wednesday at the free caffe de luca tarot night that I should go to the Oprah taping on Michigan Avenue today because "It would really be something to see." (I did not see the Oprah show, but I did work on the neighborhood eNewsletter all morning, and until just now. An editor is checking for mistakes since I usually make plenty of them.)

Also this past Wednesday "Max" updated me on some progress with a woman at the senior center. They've been rehearsing for a play together, and he informed me that he finally got her digits. He wanted to know what would happen next. I told him, like I say to everyone, that I do not know, or can predict the future, and that all I can do is interpret the literal meaning of the cards drawn. I also asked him what had happened with the other lady, the one he'd been trying to coordinate a date with for the better part of a year? Apparently there had been some frustration, miscommunication, and resentment over him taking the train all the way out to meet her, and then her not extending the common courtesy of picking him up at the station, and forcing him to walk a near mile with his cane. I concurred he should probably move on. What is it with women these days?!

Well, quite cheesily, Fred drew the Nine of Cups, which is like the Fairy godmother card, per my trusty reference book of choice, Power Tarot by Trish MacGregor, and Phyllis Vega. The nine of cups seriously means that whatever you wish for will come true. Really? Fred asked me. Really, I had replied.

So, I'm thinking if he wants things to work out, they probably will.

Speaking of trains, Max told me about his past few weeks. He had done something that I thought was pretty cool, and might even imitate. He had been to Carbondale, in southern Illinois at least 40 years ago, and figured it might be nice to get away, and visit the small town again. Recently laid off from many years of loyal service working as a security guard, he did not want to spend too much money on the vacation, either.

How much was the train ticket?, I asked him.

About $65 round trip, he told me, but added that for me it would be more.

"You're not a senior," he stated.

No, I guess I'm not.

And, it wasn't until I wrote this blog that I realized the woman that didn't pick him up at the station might be the no longer love interest in Carbondale, which is a further distance than Columbus, Ohio. Illinois is vertically a very big state, kind of like Abe Lincoln was as a person. Boo on her.

** Name, and photo altered.

Squirrels Can't Fly, Either

Dear, Smoky Salmon

You are
Thin, sliced, pink flesh**
melting beneath me,
It's love or hate,
with you, smoky salmon-
There are no 'in-between'
feelings, only
inspiration tinged
by my salt, the briny juice
I stew in, trapped inside a jar,
crammed among my people,
waiting to break free, to live
with you, atop a plate
sprinkled over your body
again, and again,
in yet another random cafe,
another dark booth,
how long we've been together,
I've lost count, we are so
perfect for each other,
oh the bat mitzvahs,
oh the weddings,
oh the shiva houses,
it's the way we go together
like salt, and pepper,
day, and night,
jews, and bagels,
that makes me know
we will always be
together, lox, and caper,
you pink, me green,
our colors as perfect
as our taste---
some call you
smoked salmon,
others roll you into sushi,
or label you "sashimi,"
yet in the dark of night
I breathe your name:
lox, lox, baby.

Love,
Your Loyal Caper(s)
** appeared on the caffe De Luca Facebook page, but I am sick of freaking out about the Olympics, and city politics here on GONE, so figured i need some lighter fare, like lox