Been an extraordinarily long day. I’m weary. I feel old. And then I stumble across this:
I had an old boombox that loved to eat tapes. I found putting an eraser end on the back of the pencil helped the grippiness immensely.
So yeah, I get the connection.
Found by way of NewMexiKen and source is here.
Dear WildFire –
Hey, hey. Slow down a bit there, buddy. Why the rush?
Let’s chat, huh? Have a minute to catch our breaths and a nice cool glass of lemonade. Not into lemonade? Oh, well do you mind if I have some?
I know it’s the summer and you are feeling hot, hot, hot. Raring to go. You are young, aggressive, a go-getter. Some might say…hungry.
You chew up the terrain, expand your reach, and build your empire and leave a swath of pain, ashes and devastation in your path.
You know what, I’ve been ignoring you. On purpose.
Growing up in the dusty lands of New Mexico, I learned to take the arrival of you rambunctious wildfires as part of the natural cycle of the year. It gets hot, it gets dry, then like a rabid parasite you come to visit, leaving an indelible mark much like a drug fueled rock star in a five star hotel.
Utter destruction.
Only you don’t stick around to pay the bill. You hop another border and get to work burning down something else.
I ignore you because I’ve borne witness to the people who know how to deal with you. They efficiently knock you down, smother your ambition, and wrestle you under control. I heard you were back in town and figured you’d party your way through the cycle and you’d be knocked down soon enough. Managed. Controlled.
You’re a wily one this year, aren’t you? Nimble. Agile. Persistent.
You should know something. You’re ugly, all right? Beautifully profoundly ugly.
After seeing your face last night on my local news, my Bay Area local news, I figured maybe it was time to pay you a little attention, like a bratty child who has finally worked my last nerve.
It’s time to take a look at you like passing by a horrible accident. I don’t want to look and then suddenly I can’t seem to look away.
Damn it, WildFire. Stop. Just…stop. You’ve done enough. More than enough. It’s getting excessive.
Please stop. People’s lives, livelihood, homes, neighborhoods and towns are at stake here.
You are destroying my home state. I’m very protective of my home state.
So look. Just stop. End this. Be gone. Be done. Move along.
We’ve indulged you long enough. It’s time for you to leave.
In the vernacular of my people: don’t let the gate hit you on the way out.
————
This image terrifies me….
Here’s my Pops and me. I was three months old.
Nice white socks. What my dad lacked in fashion sense, he made up for in being cantankerous.
Or something like that.
I think everyone born from about 1950 to about 1970 has a photo similar to this.
Sitting on the couch with dad. A cultural necessity.
Photo from a family album, likely taken by my mom and subject to the Creative Commons license seen in the right hand column of this page.
Wasn’t it just yesterday that it was cold, dreary and my little lakes and estuaries were empty of bird life? It was the quiet time. Trees brown, grass dead, flowers non-existent.
And then yesterday, as if out of no where…
Bing!
Bang!
Boom!
I’m sure to the geese parents it was a bit more complicated than big, bang, boom (ahem….) but to me it’s like these little goslings appeared overnight.
Today, they are cute and I “awwwww” at their little wing nubs.
Tomorrow they are full grown Canada geese standing in the middle of the road as I’m trying to get to work and I curse at them.
That there’s the real circle of life. From an awwww to a blue streak in two easy steps.
Happy Spring!
This morning, the idea generator prompted me to “Name something that fascinates you.”
Let’s see…
Right now, the thing that fascinates me the most is: Peanut Butter M&M’s
Oh man, I tried these for the first time during my recent travel. My sweet tooth dragged me to an airport shop where I bought a bag, and ever since I can’t stop thinking about and yearning for the peanut buttery goodness!
Oh wait. That’s an obsession. Not a fascination.
Let me try again.
Ok, I got it. I’m fascinated by that frapping tree growing in my side yard. The one that grows about six feet a month, drapes over the neighbor’s fence, scrapes at the side of the house and blocks the nice view out of my home office window.
Oh no, got it wrong again. That’s aggravation.
Hmm. Fascinated by the endless lines of tiny black ants invading my kitchen?
Nope, more aggravation.
How about this! I got it. I’m fascinated by the process I go through every morning to park in my favorite spot in the parking garage. There is a pinched-faced lady in a gray BMW who thinks she owns the spot. I parked there uncontested for a whole month and beginning last week, missy miss BMW thinks it’s her spot?
Oh I don’t THINK so.
No, every day I’m all about making sure that I get that spot, mine mine mine!!
Nice try, Karen. That would probably be best labeled under compulsion.
Maybe I’m fascinated by my ongoing observations about the sheer quantity of Canada Geese poop at the park near my office?
No, compulsion and aggravation together, I think.
How about my fascination with the recent over 90-degree heatwave in the Bay Area.
Nope. Perspiration.
I got it! Night photography! I’m fascinated by that.
But that’s also education. As in, I’m totally all about learning night photography but yet, I’m also fascinated with the art.
Yes. That’s it. I think I’ve resolved it.
That was a lot harder that I thought it would be.
