Storm Approaches; Storm Recedes, and a Turtle Trudges On

The leading edge would

Have us jumping at each flash

Of tensile lightning

Flinching at thunder

Cowering ‘neath the covers

Yearning for a pause

Rumbles grow distant

Downpour tapers to sprinkles

This storm fades away

(Found all the photos on Pinterest)

I’m always fascinated by the flow and rhythm of a storm–The light and sound parade that precedes the rainfall, the tapering off of rain followed by an encore of the opening chorus. I get chills when I get to be a witness to the greatest concert on earth.

During an intermission of the storm I’m watching a small turtle make its way across my yard.

Looks like he/she has an appointment.

Peace, people

Those Pesky Marketing Algorithms

Something I liked or clicked on or posted a comment about on Facebook resulted in the following suggested item showing up in my social media feed:

Now, I have a couple of questions. First, is this dress meant to be worn as lingerie? The model is sporting a watch. To me, that’s an indication that she doesn’t want to be late for an upcoming appointment outside of her home.

This leads to my second question. Is this appropriate attire for church? I guess I’ll find out soon enough. I might need bail money.

Peace, people.

Lessons Learned from a Snake

I do not hate snakes. That being said, I’d just as soon not encounter a venomous one in close proximity to my home, as I did one day last week.

The night following the encounter that cottonmouth occupied my dreams every time I closed my eyes to sleep. In my waking hours I mentally retraced the steps I took prior to noticing his presence next to the garage and realized I’d likely come within inches of stepping on him. It was a sobering thought.

I’ve changed some of my habits after my snake experience, and I thought the lessons learned might be worth sharing. If nothing else, they’ll help me solidify what I gained from the experience.

  1. Don’t walk and read simultaneously. The mail can wait to be sorted once you’re in the house. What a sad tale it might’ve been if I’d stepped on a viper while perusing a Talbots mailer.
  2. Not all bad guys give a warning. If my snake friend had been a rattlesnake, chances are I’d have been warned off from the start. This guy lay silently, coiled and waiting for some clueless broad walking and reading a Talbots catalog to blunder into its sharp fangs.
  3. Scan your surroundings. There’s a mnemonic acronym motorcyclists use to help avoid accidents–SIPDE. That stands for Scan (keep your eyes moving), Identify (note possible hazards), Predict (make an educated guess as to what the hazard might do), Decide (plan a course of action), and Execute (make it happen).
  4. Please note that we Executed the snake. That’ll teach him.
  5. Don’t trust your eyes, but scan anyway. He was camouflaged fairly well in his driveway matching color coordinated way. Look twice, then look again.
  6. Always carry a bazooka. (Note to self: buy a bazooka.)
  7. Don’t assume a snake is asleep just because it doesn’t respond to outside stimuli. It’s probably playing possum in hopes that you’ll be lulled into complacency. Or that you’re admiring a skirt in a fashion catalog.

I’m sure there are other lessons to be gained from my interaction with the snake, but thinking about it too much gives me the heebie jeebies.

Peace, people.

(I found the photo directly above on twitter in order to show off the cottonmouth’s cotton mouth.)

Feckless, Still

I thought this piece deserved a reblog. I’m so sick of Trump’s endless lies, inconsistencies, and blatant criminal activity, and just as sick of Congress’s failure to act on the behalf of the American people.

https://nananoyz5forme.com/2017/02/20/feckless/

My Discomfort

I slept late on Thursday morning and couldn’t find my motivation to get dressed. While enjoying my breakfast of Purely Elizabeth blueberry lemon oatmeal, I watched part of comic Tig Notaro’s standup special, “Tig Notaro: Boyish Girl Interrupted.”

Tig is one of my favorite comics. Her quirky timing along with her charming, not quite deadpan delivery, always has me in stitches. I’d never actually watched this special, though, and was totally unprepared to see her slender form dressed only in blue jeans, her top having been discarded at a point prior to my tuning into the program.

Tig is a breast cancer survivor, and I don’t think I knew that until I saw her bare chested on the television. Was I shocked? Yes. Women don’t just bare their chests, even chests without breasts, on television. Right? Well, apparently Tig does.

At first I had a difficult time watching the special. It’s like I didn’t know where to look. Didn’t she know her shirtless appearance would cause discomfort among some viewers? “Holy cow, lady, put your top back on,” I thought in a really loud internal voice.

But then I forgot to be uncomfortable. And I began to cheer her bravery in the midst of her comedy. What a badass.

Now I need to see the special from the beginning. I imagine the reactions of her audience as she first removes her button down shirt. There’ll most likely be some gasps. People won’t know where to look. But me? I’ll be cool with it. I’ll tell those uncomfortable folks to just chill. Tig’s got a point to make and you’re going to want to be looking when she makes it.

Peace, people.

Snapshot #241

For some reason today’s post magically disappeared from my WordPress site. Thank goodness two of my blogging friends had already liked it, so I could copy from my notifications.

Be sure to click on the link for the story–I kind of had nightmares last night.

https://nananoyz5forme.com/2019/06/14/snapshot-241/

Snapshot #241

This guy was poised next to my side of the garage when I came home to Doright Manor from having lunch with a friend on Thursday.

I’d walked past him probably four or five times as I carried groceries into the house. As I hefted the last of the groceries, a 30 lb. container of cat litter, out of the trunk I happened to see him, after which I dropped the litter on my foot while screaming something unintelligible and most likely profane.

I think we’ll call this one, “Holy Effing Sh*t! It’s a Water Moccasin!”

Studly Doright came home and took care of the problem. I could have, but why take the chance of wounding his ego? Right? 😳😳😳

Tragedy in the Forest

Our elder cat, Scout, and I were lounging on the back porch yesterday afternoon having a heart to heart talk about the birds and the bees. Scout has been spayed, so it wasn’t THAT kind of talk. Instead, we were captivated by the appearance of what I believe to be a barred owl that makes a showing at Doright Manor every evening around 5 p.m.

It looks a great deal like the owl found on the Audubon Society’s page:

I told Scout that she wasn’t to try to make friends with the owl, as such an attempt wouldn’t end well for her. She assured me that she wouldn’t leave the safety of our screened-in porch, but she hesitated to vouch for her younger “sister,” Patches, saying something along the lines of, “The idiot will most likely be shoved, I mean, might accidentally run right out the door and into the grasping claws of that owl.”

There’s no love lost between my felines.

Within seconds of our conversation we heard a ruckus coming from the lake.

To me it sounded as if a predator had absconded with one of the offspring of our pair of nesting egrets. Ours aren’t as large as those pictured below, and would make a tasty snack for an alligator or even a turtle, but from the sound of the commotion something swooped down from the sky and alarmed our great egrets.

Scout turned to me and in all seriousness said, “Gee, I hope that was, I mean, wasn’t Patches.”

Such concern.

Peace, people!