Do you know how hard it is to type on my laptop when the cat is purring while standing on my lap and rubbing the backs of my hands with his cheeks. No, I'm not totally heartless. I've spent most of the last ten minutes hugging and petting him. He likes when I wrap both arms around him and rub my face against his ears.
Then, he gets done and leaps off as if I'd mauled him.
Crap! I realize I don't have time to sit here and hug the cat while I pretend I'm going to tell you a story. I could tell you about the balloons that got stuck at the top of a tree in bloom in the dog park yesterday. It's not a story, really, but it looked like a present, this gorgeous white tree with pink and purple heart-shaped balloons blowing around at the very top.
I could tell you about the incredibly lucky guy who blew a tire on his trailer, who jackknifed, and did a perfect spin in between traffic in front of my house two days ago. When I told him that the Universe had a plan for him, that he had work to do, this man lit up and spent the next ten minutes telling me about how he had just finished rescuing fourteen wild horses from the Yakima Indian reservation. He talked long enough and glowed enough that I figured his adrenaline rush was going in the right direction and it would be safe for him to unplug the trailer and head off in his truck to get a new tire for it, on the same road on which he nearly died moments before.
I could tell you about dogs at the park, about how my boy spent his time after school flintknapping today. He is chipping an arrowhead for his best friend who's moving away at the end of the school year. I could tell you about sleep, or lack of it or about the good things police have done for me, unlocking my car when my keys were in the ignition, changing tires, checking that I was okay after a near-death experience. You didn't think I thought of that adrenaline and Universe story by myself, did you? I really hope our country can find a good balance between our young black men and our police. I could tell you about the pork knodels that won't make themselves. I could tell you about all kinds of things, but that dinner isn't going to make itself and I need to get cracking. Yup. No story today. Sorry.
By the way, happy May day. Go make love in your garden. That way your land will be fruitful. Druids much?
Thank you for listening, jb
Then, he gets done and leaps off as if I'd mauled him.
Crap! I realize I don't have time to sit here and hug the cat while I pretend I'm going to tell you a story. I could tell you about the balloons that got stuck at the top of a tree in bloom in the dog park yesterday. It's not a story, really, but it looked like a present, this gorgeous white tree with pink and purple heart-shaped balloons blowing around at the very top.
I could tell you about the incredibly lucky guy who blew a tire on his trailer, who jackknifed, and did a perfect spin in between traffic in front of my house two days ago. When I told him that the Universe had a plan for him, that he had work to do, this man lit up and spent the next ten minutes telling me about how he had just finished rescuing fourteen wild horses from the Yakima Indian reservation. He talked long enough and glowed enough that I figured his adrenaline rush was going in the right direction and it would be safe for him to unplug the trailer and head off in his truck to get a new tire for it, on the same road on which he nearly died moments before.
I could tell you about dogs at the park, about how my boy spent his time after school flintknapping today. He is chipping an arrowhead for his best friend who's moving away at the end of the school year. I could tell you about sleep, or lack of it or about the good things police have done for me, unlocking my car when my keys were in the ignition, changing tires, checking that I was okay after a near-death experience. You didn't think I thought of that adrenaline and Universe story by myself, did you? I really hope our country can find a good balance between our young black men and our police. I could tell you about the pork knodels that won't make themselves. I could tell you about all kinds of things, but that dinner isn't going to make itself and I need to get cracking. Yup. No story today. Sorry.
By the way, happy May day. Go make love in your garden. That way your land will be fruitful. Druids much?
Thank you for listening, jb
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