Might Be A Sign

Oh the human existence. The body must be fed, clothed, bathed, teeth brushed, hair shampooed, parts deodorized . . . Seems like I spend hours maintaining this body in order to go out into the world to earn money to take care of the very same body, The endless cycle. I remember when I was waiting tables in Colonial Williamsburg, mobcap, wool socks and all and having this conversation about the required black shoes. "I have to make the money waiting tables so I can afford to buy the black sneaker. If I don't have the black shoes, I can't make the money" Its an endless cycle of care, and for what? I like the idea of people kibble, fifty pound sacks of quickly assimilated people nutrients. You can grab a handful and keep going. I know all you foodies out there are horrified, but really; plan the shopping list and the meal. Go to the store, maintain the car and the payments to get there and shop in vivid and smelly overwhelming markets. Panic at all the choices and the prices and the neighbor that has threatened to eat your dog. . .
Take it home, store it in the fridge, cupboards, maintain proper temperatures. Maintain the mortgage. Go to work, after caring for the body. Cook the food, eat it in 15 minutes, then clean up for an hour.
I would rather grab a handful of kibble.
Life has been full on BUSY lately. Not complaining but...
Yesterday as I was doing the body care thing I grabbed the zinc free natural deodorant for my underarms and rubbed it into my forehead.
Might be a sign, you think? I just might be a bit overwhelmed with all these human details.

Just the Way it Is

Mr. President, we have an environmental disaster in Santa Barbara California.
There's no black people in Santa Barbara is there, Moreno Nariz?
No Mr. President, mostly rich white folks.
I see. I authorize the sending of food, water, shelter and federal aid, immediately.

Half

Here's a half hearted entry, because I am now late, again, but I wanted you to know everything that was chaos the past 2 weeks seems to have settled back to smooth seas. Catch up is a huge pain, especially when you spill it on your favorite white shirt. I thought I'd write some humorous stuff, then realized I am not often very funny, no matter how hard I try. I feel guilty, writing. Writing yet not having the time to check out all of the great stuff you are all Blogging, so I will say "Hey!" and check you all out soon, very soon, Ira, indeed.
Love this new refurbished Gateway with Windows Vista though, love it.

And the entire city is engulfed in flames, Santa Anna, Santa Anna- dreamed of it half the night, or maybe it was a nightmare

Every Thing's Gonna Be Alright

It is, right?

Still Point

There is no point in making lame excuses for not checking you all out lately. I will simply tell the truth. Two days before the BoBO incident (and follow up Vet visits and care), Tate accidentally ingested anti-freeze. No, he isn't suicidal nor stupid, the overflow fluid was put into a Gatorade bottle and he drank it by accident.(hours of testing at the hospital, thank God he is perfect) Avi has moved to NYC and is supposed to be going to school, but he doesn't have enough money to buy groceries and my Mom,. . . oh forget it. Then we had the death in the family, Dell, the twin brother to, well, Dell who had a nervous breakdown after contracting a darned virus. Dell the former, had a heart attack. I came into the office to do payroll and quarterly reports and he was laying cold on the desk. He must have been dead for hours. I contacted the emergency help line. They suggested I shock him with a different power source; I tried to no avail.
Last night a baby Gateway showed up in a box at our front doorstep. In between jobs and a final paper for Psych class,tech support and me will get back on track.
You do not wish you were here, and it is not too much fun. Catch you all later, I hope.

Bobo and the Bear, part II

Bobo is a teddy bear of an animal. He gets confused,sometimes he thinks he is a Black Bear. Sometimes he thinks he can wrestle with other Black Bears and he can play with them any time he wants to... or, that's what he used to think. I hope.
Sunday morning he entered the bedroom trailing a small beach of sand on his paws. "billy bob, could you bring in any more dirt on your paws this morning?" I asked him as he sat and stared at me with his innocent expression, and then. . . I saw it. A wide canyon gash the length of his forearm. It was oozing but not pouring blood. Apparently the artery was spared. We rushed him to the emergency Vet by 9:00 on Sunday morning. I picked him up (an hour away from home, only day off per week)and returned home with a seriously groggy and sore baby by 9:00pm. I wanted to take his picture with the plastic lampshade he is supposed to wear, but he won't let me near him with it. He is way too debonair for that sort of nonsense.
Today is Wednesday. This morning he went back to chasing squirrels. You cant keep a good Bobo down, no-one can, not even a bear.

Stranger In the Night

In August 2004, several news media outlets[4] reported that a wild black bear was found passed out after drinking about 36 cans of beer in Baker Lake, Washington, USA. The bear opened a camper's cooler and used its claws and teeth to puncture the cans. It was found the bear selectively opened cans of Rainier Beer and left all but one Busch beer unconsumed.(retrieved from http://www.Wickipedia.com)

Another sleepless night, for Tate.
I can sleep through anything.
When I was a kid, I slept through a house fire, but that's another story for some other time.

Billy Bob barked all night long. The air was cool and Fall had begun; the window above our bed was open all night.

Bark, bark, bark. . .
all night long. . .
at what?
That was the question we had in the morning. And then we saw it. All of the bird feeders that Tate tends to diligently had been torn from the tree limbs. One feeder sits on a pole and is constructed of heavy duty fiberglass,it was torn apart and mangled.
The cat was hiding behind the barn; something we never see normally.
Paw prints, scratch marks, it was a bear.
That was three nights ago.
The next night after Tate restored the feeders to their proper places (if they were not destroyed) and coerced them back into shape, the barking began again. This night however, the barker stayed on the porch. In the morning, the destruction was re-created.
Bird feeders down, mangled, and empty.
Billy-Bob brought us a present though, you know, to compensate for the fact that a one hundred pound dog is no appropriate match for a three hundred pound Black Bear. But he kept us up at night barking, for the past three nights, in case we wanted to go toe -to- toe with the beast ourselves.
No he didn't catch the bear, but he brought us a baby rabbit instead.
That makes up for everything right?

Post note: Tate saw the bear this morning before sunrise. It was in front of the house (near the bird feeder) not ten feet away from the front door. Billy Bob, aka Bo-Bo, was in its' face, chasing him and barking and nipping at him.
I am concerned. I think we should feed it. It's time to hunker down for the Winter, but what if I don't have any donuts one day? What then? The beer cooler? No way!