Tonight at about 10:00 pm as I was coming out of a convenience store (buying milk for the morning coffee and such -- out of soy milk), I was stopped by a punkish 14-year-old-looking boy. He circled around the parking lot on his mini bmx bike, his curly blond hair flipping up from underneath his helmet. He approached me very politely and out of his pierced mouth asked if I would buy him and his friends alcohol if they gave me money. I looked into his pleading, young blue eyes and actually stuttered for a moment.
I was surprised that it took me a minute to gather my thoughts. I felt so sorry for this kid, he was so young and cute. I have children around his age and it broke my heart to see him out there like this, especially while my kids were waiting at home for me to bring them milk.
After stuttering, I shook my head and told him, No, I can not buy you alcohol. He actually offered condolences and said that it was alright, that I was just trying to be a good person. Then as he started to ride off, I held the milk up high and said, "I have milk however, you can REALLY party with milk". He turned and chuckled. And then I told him to have a safe night.
As I drove off, one of his friends yelled something to me. The tone didn't sound mean, but it could have been because of my nerdy Got Milk comment. I wished I could have brought them home and given them a glass of milk. . .
Friday, June 30, 2006
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
The Beadiest of Eyes
I saw several crocodiles today, snouts sticking above water, beady eyeballs turning the passerby's direction. I am in Florida where it is oohey gooey sticky, the ponds are thick and green, and the tropical plants are plentiful. I know these are alligators and not crocodiles because a colleague of mine and I asked at the gift shop of the resort that our company is staying at. The woman behind the counter told us they were alligators, and then she warned us not to feed them because they will eat us. Laughing, we asked, why would we feed them? Well, she said, we have found bowls outside on guests' patios. Then she told us about four fatal alligator attacks in Florida in a weeks time. Uh, great.
Our conference was let out early today so I took a bike ride around the area. About two miles from the resort the chain came off the bike and I could not get the damn thing back on, so I started walking the bike back. I passed a pond (there is a pond every couple hundred yards) and I saw the familiar snout and beady eyes. I thought, I would feel a lot safer riding past on my beach cruiser. Just then a Resort shuttle passed by and stopped and picked me and my bike up for a (thankful) ride back.
I am sensing a theme this summer -- reptiles. . .
Our conference was let out early today so I took a bike ride around the area. About two miles from the resort the chain came off the bike and I could not get the damn thing back on, so I started walking the bike back. I passed a pond (there is a pond every couple hundred yards) and I saw the familiar snout and beady eyes. I thought, I would feel a lot safer riding past on my beach cruiser. Just then a Resort shuttle passed by and stopped and picked me and my bike up for a (thankful) ride back.
I am sensing a theme this summer -- reptiles. . .
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
I Guess I Am Afraid of Snakes -- With Rattles
Running on the trails in the canyon this time of year is always a little tricky -- the poison oak is full and blooming, the overflowing creeks from the winter are just now beginning to dry up, and the snakes are plentiful.
I always thought I was afraid of spiders and not snakes (kind of like someone is good at math, but not reading. Usually a person favors one thing or another). However . . .
This morning I passed a friendly, elderly gentleman who bid me good morning and then said, "by the way, there is a rattle snake on the right hand side of trail just about 100 yards ahead."
He seemed so light-hearted about it, I thanked him for the information and kept going -- albeit a little shaky about what lay ahead. Sure enough the creature was stretched out straight across a very wide part of the trail, rattle and all.
I thought, I'll just walk right past it, no fear. But each time I approached, I lost my nerve. I was sweating and cagey -- pacing closer and then backing away. I couldn't remember if the snake could smell me, hear me, or feel the vibration of my feet. Do I scare it away by tossing a rock in its direction, or will that just piss it off? All knowledge of snakes I had collected over the years flew right out the window. The snake was NOT coiled up or ready to pounce (like the one my dog wanted to play with last spring on the trail), so why not keep moving forward?
Finally I chickened out completely and headed back the way I came -- which would have put me back about 45 minutes. This time I saw an elderly woman walking up the trail. I told her about the snake, and that oddly, I was feeling quite nervous. She admitted she WAS afraid of snakes, but that we could do it together.
"Hi, my name is Pat," she said holding out a dainty, wrinkled hand to shake. "Let's go." As we approached the snake, still in its same position, she said, "when I get nervous I always count . . . 1." I repeated her. 2. And as we walked right up next to the snake, counting together, I impulsively reached up and grabbed the back of her sweaty shirt!!
Why on God's-snake-ridden-earth did I think it was appropriate to grab the back of a complete stranger's shirt for my own protection (and an elderly woman's at that!) I have no ideal. I apologized incessantly for my over-reaction. (The snake never budged by the way. Either it was faking, in a deep sleep, or it was dead and someone lay it across the trail as a sick prank).
Pat didn't seem to mind. She encouraged me to count whenever I am afraid, that it is meditative. I then thanked her incessantly and we both resumed our respective paces -- me running ahead of her.
Later, once I was back on the road heading for home, Pat passed me in her car and gave me a little honk. I love elderly people and their bravery. I look forward to growing older and losing my new found fear of snakes, and maybe helping some younger, pathetic person on the way.
I always thought I was afraid of spiders and not snakes (kind of like someone is good at math, but not reading. Usually a person favors one thing or another). However . . .
This morning I passed a friendly, elderly gentleman who bid me good morning and then said, "by the way, there is a rattle snake on the right hand side of trail just about 100 yards ahead."
He seemed so light-hearted about it, I thanked him for the information and kept going -- albeit a little shaky about what lay ahead. Sure enough the creature was stretched out straight across a very wide part of the trail, rattle and all.
I thought, I'll just walk right past it, no fear. But each time I approached, I lost my nerve. I was sweating and cagey -- pacing closer and then backing away. I couldn't remember if the snake could smell me, hear me, or feel the vibration of my feet. Do I scare it away by tossing a rock in its direction, or will that just piss it off? All knowledge of snakes I had collected over the years flew right out the window. The snake was NOT coiled up or ready to pounce (like the one my dog wanted to play with last spring on the trail), so why not keep moving forward?
Finally I chickened out completely and headed back the way I came -- which would have put me back about 45 minutes. This time I saw an elderly woman walking up the trail. I told her about the snake, and that oddly, I was feeling quite nervous. She admitted she WAS afraid of snakes, but that we could do it together.
"Hi, my name is Pat," she said holding out a dainty, wrinkled hand to shake. "Let's go." As we approached the snake, still in its same position, she said, "when I get nervous I always count . . . 1." I repeated her. 2. And as we walked right up next to the snake, counting together, I impulsively reached up and grabbed the back of her sweaty shirt!!
Why on God's-snake-ridden-earth did I think it was appropriate to grab the back of a complete stranger's shirt for my own protection (and an elderly woman's at that!) I have no ideal. I apologized incessantly for my over-reaction. (The snake never budged by the way. Either it was faking, in a deep sleep, or it was dead and someone lay it across the trail as a sick prank).
Pat didn't seem to mind. She encouraged me to count whenever I am afraid, that it is meditative. I then thanked her incessantly and we both resumed our respective paces -- me running ahead of her.
Later, once I was back on the road heading for home, Pat passed me in her car and gave me a little honk. I love elderly people and their bravery. I look forward to growing older and losing my new found fear of snakes, and maybe helping some younger, pathetic person on the way.
Monday, June 05, 2006
Out of the Mouths of Babes -- About Babes
(Note: I do not have my son's permission to publish this post. This probably makes me a bad parent.)
Today Cole and I were driving down the road listening to music. He was just staring out the window as a song played the chorus: "You were wrong when you said everything was gonna be alright."
(It is actually a clever little tune which also states things like -- "you were right when you said we are all just bricks in the wall. You were right when you said we are all just dust in the wind. You were right when you said we can't always get what we want" . . . and so on.)
Anyway, I wasn't sure Cole was even listening to the song until he said, "I hope that guy is not singing to a girl."
"Why?" I asked chuckling.
"Because," he said, "if you a tell a girl she is wrong, she will dump you."
"Uhhhhhh," I said. Right now I walk a fine line with Cole talking about girls. If he offers up a tid-bit, that's fine. If I begin asking questions, or question further, he will clam up and ask me to just stop talking -- alright!
He went on, "and if you tell a girl that she is wrong, and she is really right, then she really has a reason to dump you."
I wondered where in his fifth grade life he had picked up such information. But I didn't persist. I just tossled his hair and said, "you're a pretty smart kid."
Today Cole and I were driving down the road listening to music. He was just staring out the window as a song played the chorus: "You were wrong when you said everything was gonna be alright."
(It is actually a clever little tune which also states things like -- "you were right when you said we are all just bricks in the wall. You were right when you said we are all just dust in the wind. You were right when you said we can't always get what we want" . . . and so on.)
Anyway, I wasn't sure Cole was even listening to the song until he said, "I hope that guy is not singing to a girl."
"Why?" I asked chuckling.
"Because," he said, "if you a tell a girl she is wrong, she will dump you."
"Uhhhhhh," I said. Right now I walk a fine line with Cole talking about girls. If he offers up a tid-bit, that's fine. If I begin asking questions, or question further, he will clam up and ask me to just stop talking -- alright!
He went on, "and if you tell a girl that she is wrong, and she is really right, then she really has a reason to dump you."
I wondered where in his fifth grade life he had picked up such information. But I didn't persist. I just tossled his hair and said, "you're a pretty smart kid."
Bach First Ever to Pull Out All The Stops
Johann Sebastian Bach is the first person ever to pull out all the stops -- in fact, that was his job.
Bach was not only a renowned composer, but also worked as a traveling organ tester.
Apparently the first thing he would do to test an organ, which is actually a wind instrument, would be to open up all the pipes and test the instrument's range and sound -- "pulling out all the stops."
FYI. Put that in your organ pipe and smoke it.
Bach was not only a renowned composer, but also worked as a traveling organ tester.
Apparently the first thing he would do to test an organ, which is actually a wind instrument, would be to open up all the pipes and test the instrument's range and sound -- "pulling out all the stops."
FYI. Put that in your organ pipe and smoke it.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
In The Comfort Zone
I was looking on web-sites for volunteer vacations where my family and I could go to experience another culture by lending a hand, gain a new perspective on life, and vacation. Some destinations were Costa Rica -- helping a village in the rain forest plant crops (that had been previously eaten by animals that are protected under the U.S. wild life preserve, in fact); Peru -- helping a village in the mountains rebuild a school and teach their children English and how to use computers; and Thailand -- helping the Monks translate songs, care for the elderly and the disadvantaged.
Learning more about the Thailand trip, some of the dangers included the Avian flu and possible human-to-human mutation of the disease. Clicking around on different news topics brought me to a story on Thailand's huge AIDS population. One outcome of this epidemic has been the Temple of Doom, where AIDS infected people are left abandoned to die. Some have been found left on the door step of this temple, dropped off by family members, as if they were an unwanted pet.
Thousands of white sand bags surround a Buddah inside the temple that contain the ashes of the dead who were abandoned there. And even more horrifying was found in this excerpt:
"The temple is also used to engender fear of AIDS. Preserved naked bodies of dead patients encased in glass are on display along with a baby floating in formaldehyde. Sculptures made of bone fragments fill a garden and lopped off body parts - hands, feet, penises - are seen floating in glass jars." -- The Standard. Mon. June 5th. "Where The Unwanted Wither"
Auburn is certainly a cozy little place to stay sealed up in. . .
Learning more about the Thailand trip, some of the dangers included the Avian flu and possible human-to-human mutation of the disease. Clicking around on different news topics brought me to a story on Thailand's huge AIDS population. One outcome of this epidemic has been the Temple of Doom, where AIDS infected people are left abandoned to die. Some have been found left on the door step of this temple, dropped off by family members, as if they were an unwanted pet.
Thousands of white sand bags surround a Buddah inside the temple that contain the ashes of the dead who were abandoned there. And even more horrifying was found in this excerpt:
"The temple is also used to engender fear of AIDS. Preserved naked bodies of dead patients encased in glass are on display along with a baby floating in formaldehyde. Sculptures made of bone fragments fill a garden and lopped off body parts - hands, feet, penises - are seen floating in glass jars." -- The Standard. Mon. June 5th. "Where The Unwanted Wither"
Auburn is certainly a cozy little place to stay sealed up in. . .
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