Cause and Effect or Prey and Predator

Before 

After

Once Bitten, Twice Bitten

This summer I was bitten on the foot by a mosquito and the mosquito died. Poor thing. Then I started worrying about my blood - it kills bugs dead. But this mosquito did not die right away; she hung in there for hours. Turns out that mosquitoes often die after feeding. The foot swelled to many, many times its normal size. And itched really bad.
Now I am suffering from a black widow bite. Maybe a brown recluse. It was probably both come to think of it. The two deadly spiders obviously teamed up to cripple my right wrist. And don't give me that "There aren't brown recluses in the West" nonsense. Look at my swollen, weeping wrist and tell me it was not a brown recluse /black widow combo that bit me? Or another mosquito.

Techno-less

My computer broke in France. The gentleman at the Genius Bar told me it was my graphics card and that the part costs $900. Then he told me that Apple will cover it. He said it was a known problem. I have been computerless for a few days and will be for a few more. In related news, my phone fell out of my pocket in Luke's car at O'Hare. So I have been phoneless for a few days. Part of me likes being phoneless and computerless. But the part of me that posts things on the Internet finds it frustrating.

Warm and Furry

A few days ago, I hooked up the leash to the animal pictured below, went for a run, played with it for a while and after a few hours of fun I realized, "You are not Diego. You have too many legs." 

But what really happened was, Jenny found this poor deceased spider in her garage. I picked her up and after a few seconds felt her moving. She was alive! But barely. She was soon completely dead. I was considering taking her to a wildlife rescue - we had already taken two birds the day before - but you cannot rescue the dead as the saying goes.

Semi-racist Yard Sale

The third or fourth yard sale of the morning made the first two or three crappy yard sales almost disappear from memory. Of course these things never completely go away. They stay somewhere in our subconscious only to resurface as sweaty nightmares, "Oh no, more homemade potholders - and look! Another unused Nordic Track..."

Number four was the mother lode. We headed straight for the backyard where a sign out front had instructed us to go if we were interested in tools. The first thing that caught my eye was a bench grinder with a homemade, heavy duty stand. "How much do you want for that?" I asked trying to sound uninterested. Dan, son of the deceased, seemed surprised by the question. "Uh, I don't know... how about ten dollars?" Sold. Then a red tool cart struck Jenny's fancy. "I don't know, how much will you give me?" asked Dan."Five dollars," I offered hopefully. "Its yours. And you can have everything on it." We only wanted some of what was on it but we did take everything that was in it. He also said we could have whatever else we could fit on it. 

Jenny noticed a hand-carved, wooden Buddha in the toolshed rafters. Then she saw a Buddha cookie jar. Then we both started seeing Buddhas everywhere. I bought the cookie jar. Mamma (that's what Dan called her) showed us a 4 foot high, smiley buddha wearing a cap and sunglasses. She bought it for her husband for $426 in the 70s. I went out to search for more treasure and Dan went in to warn his mother about potential thieves. Even though he was practically giving everything away. He said, "Mamma, we need to have a conference.  I'm not racist but - well, not very racist - but there are a lot of Mexicans wandering around here and you know how they can be. So you need to be out there making sure people aren't leaving without paying." 

The daughter showed up riding a Lark scooter. She was the only one who seemed at all concerned as she watched her dad's stuff walking away. Her mother said to us, "Dan didn't want her to come. He said she'd scare everybody away." 

We weren't scared but we did feel like we left without paying. Maybe Dan and Mamma gave us the white people discount. 

Dolly: $5

Tool Cart: $5

Tools included

Oster blender was from a thrift store but I thought you would like to see it. 

Grinder $10

Buddha cookie jar: .25 cents

Photography: Not For the Faint of Heart

The dangers of bunny photography.

The bunny.

I am kind of like this guy but with bunnies and without the dramatic music. 

House (wren) Music

Singing in the wrain

House Wren crashed into the House window

This little house wren flew into the window and landed on its back. He looked like a goner lying on his back. He slowly started to snap out of it after sitting in my hand for a few minutes. He flew away after I took this picture.

Don't Stand so Close to Me

While I was reading a magazine at a bookstore a middle aged (70ish) woman walked up and stood with her considerable bottom a few inches from my considerable nose. A conversation that I would not actually start went through my head. It started with, "Please don't fart, please don't fart, please don't fart." Then, in this silly fantasy, granny gave me a withering look. To which I replied, "Sorry, I just know it can be hard to hold your farts at your age." It was at about that time when the fantasy turned to reality. She farted. I thought I was mistaken until she farted again. She farted a third time and took her leave. I suppose the words, "be careful what you wish for or you might just get it," apply to this situation. Or maybe what my dad used to say would be even more applicable: "Be careful what you make up about a strange lady in a bookstore or she just might fart in your face."

Free Bacon in Chicago

Today I was at the Whole Foods in Chicago - the big, new one behind Dick Blick near North Ave. I was buying ingredients for coq a vin. I asked the butcher for his most ethically produced bacon. He wrapped it up and asked, "Have you tried this?" "No," said I. "It's on the house." Later I was buying paper towels from a local paper towel vendor to dry the chicken with. He said, "It's a Memorial Day present." Maybe I should have test driven a car.

Car

I've been following this car (the one with the green door) and taking its picture every minute or two.

Lunatic

Driving South on Highway 101 a few miles south of the Oregon border my associates and I passed a jogger, also heading South. The jogger was dressed in white from head to toe. As a small black car attempted to pass us, the jogger jumped in front of the car and danced about making "funny" faces. The passing car could not swerve to avoid him without either hitting us or hitting him. At the last second the demented jogger jumped out of the way. I watched him continue to dance and bob and weave as he shrunk in the rear view mirror. The small black car pulled over and a gentleman of about 55 or older exited the driver's side. He was going to confront the maniac. For the next few miles I worried about the safety of the gentleman and his wife that he left in the car. By the way, the jogger was big and fit looking. The gentleman was neither.

Migration Frustration

It has recently been brought to my attention that my habit of moving out of my humble home every summer is noticed by people other than me. I do like the part about migrating to the Sierra Nevada via Chicago in the summer but I admit, moving all of my worldly possessions into storage every May and out of storage every August is inconvenient. Next year I am going to try to keep my home and offer it for a summer sublet. So next year when you are considering a home away from home, consider Boise.

More buried cabins

 View of the cabin from the lake. 

The shovel to dig to the cabin is on that tree somewhere under the snow.

Flagpole Peak Today

Flagpole Peak

One of my top ten favorite mountains. 

Great Horned Owl Pellet

Walking the dog

Diego at the cross roads. Or cross walk. In case you are wondering, yes, my neighborhood is off kilter, or at least it has felt that way lately.

Starling

Sharp-shinned hawks are good at this - severing the heads of birds.

Yes

I've been talking lately, with friends, colleagues, and even associates, about how it is more interesting to define one's taste by what one likes, loves, and appreciates as opposed to by what one does not like, love or appreciate. After a while it becomes tiresome to listen to your friend recount his trip to New York or Paris and talk about how all the art sucked. Or upon his return from Kenya he simply said, "Worst safari ever." I think this idea resonates with me because I have been guilty and am still guilty of doing this. Recently, I even considered making a top ten list of things that I do not like. It would have been easier than picking, for example, my favorite ten movies, artists or religions. Use "restaurants" if "religions" is too much.

With that in mind, I would like to declare that I love the word flabbergasted, past tense of flabbergast.