Friday, December 12, 2008
Tonight was a little gift as I got out of my car. The sky - a beautiful deep blue that is impossible to duplicate. Even my trust 96 color Crayon box can't match it. And the moon, full, or one day off at the most. But the treat was something I'd never seen.
Apparently tonight was a busy night for air travel, or the air was clear enough to see dozens of vapor trails from airplanes crisscrossing the sky. They were all different "ages"; some old enough to have faded to little more than a hint of white against the blue, others crisp and sharp as a scalpel splitting a piece of fabric. All dulled with the gauzy glow of the moon. Stunning.
Sunday, December 7, 2008
A Smart Ones breakfast sandwich frozen meal
A Quart of Chubby Hubby Ben & Jerry's (fabulous) ice cream
Sunday, November 23, 2008
I found myself shaking my head in righteous regret and composing pithy notes that I could post on the wall, reading something like “Dear neighbors, well, you should know that you all have failed the good citizen test that I have been conducting these past weeks.” The problem is that it was no test; it was just me being moronic and leaving my laundry detergent on the table, where I guess it’s fair game. But the problem with this is that it’s not fair game. I would never use detergent other than my own, except that one time when I had spilled guacamole on my waitress shirt. And I felt so guilty I deliberately left that most precious of commodities, a quarter, near the bottle.
Why then, did someone, or several people, decide it was ok to use the detergent just because it was there? And why shouldn’t they? Aren’t I supposed to be all about sharing and decency? But what does it say about these people (who I never see, by the way, despite the fact that I am always going and coming from this place) that they’d make the assumption that since no one had claimed the detergent, they could use it? Did it mean that they didn’t use their detergent, instead saving a few pennies and making it last longer? Or did my stupidity save someone’s life when they realized that they didn’t have enough detergent to wash their uniform?
I guess I would have preferred to walk downstairs and discover that my detergent hadn’t been touched. It would have been a nice restorative boost to that elusive concept known as “the good of humanity.” That’s been a tough sell to me lately. Yes, you say, but you did it. You did what you’re judging others for doing. I did. But I regretted it, and I won’t do it again. And sometimes its nice to see others being better than you are. It makes you try harder.
Monday, November 17, 2008
Sunday, November 16, 2008
However, lest you think my first blog post is about something as mundane as poultry, allow me to explain. Strolling into my apartment at about 10pm last evening, I glanced toward the pond, as I usually do. I never quite realized it until just now, but it's a habit I've developed ever since a white duck took up residence there. Some kid probably got him for Easter and dumped him into the pond. I figured the duck would be around for a month or two and then depart for greener..er..water sources. But he's still there.
I don't actually know if he's a he, but in my head he is definitely male; his name is TAD, which stands for The Aflac Duck. He's made it through two winters. His white feathers are a little dingy from the equally dingy water he calls home. And his quacking never fails to make me laugh, especially when it's perfectly timed to when I round the corner and come into his plane of vision.
Lately, he's been hoarse. I never knew a duck could be hoarse, but I'm sure there's a Disney cartoon somewhere that does it justice. Last night I realized the problem. Like so many of us, he's suffering from the change of the seasons. As I walked down the path, idly glancing over to see what TAD was up to, I noticed the pond was steaming, due no doubt to the rapid drop of the temperature from the previously warm climes we've been enjoying. And TAD was cruising through the steam in grand ocean-liner fashion, regal, proud, haughty. Until he opened his beak and gave me a "welcome home" shout-out. It was a raspy, sickly sound that shouldn't have made me laugh, but did. I sure hope he didn't hear me laughing at him. I wouldn't want to hurt his feelings.