After another night with bad weather somewhere wreaking havoc with my television reception, I blamed the mess--again--on the Nature Phaerie.
And then I thought
what does this Nature Phaerie look like ?
and what pisses her off all the time ?
and since I had nothing better to do, I made this drawing of my perception of the Nature Phaerie.
Oh, and the reason, one of the reasons she is so pissed off all the time.
The dress she wore to the Solstice Party last year has mysteriously shrunk.
More to follow.

another day

I was having a long and involved discussion with myself concerning a trip to town.
My arguments against going were the usual, the traffic, the time, the parking, the whatever...
my arguments for going were that it was so close to the week-end, and tomorrow being Saturday would be even worse so...
and then something made me check the day, and today is Thursday.
I gained a day, and I can put off making a decision about going to town till tomorrow.
A whole day to do....what?
I'll think of something.
If I get really desperate there are always floors to mop and bric-a-brac to dust.

A trip

She came on just as the bus to Mismaloya started to leave.
She was big and she was gringa; she was, I thought, a perfect model for a Wagnerian Brunhilda.
After some problems finding change in her strangely tiny purse, she sunk down in seat and almost crushed the poor Mexican girl sitting next to her.
And off we went to Mismaloya and Boca when suddenly a voice boomed
STOP....stop right here.
It was Brunhilda. The bus driver checked her out in his mirror and started to find a place to pull in when she started to say.....NO...Not here....it's too late.
By now we are at a bus stop and everybody is watching Brunhilda who is not moving but throwing her arms --and what arms--in the air and saying that she might as well take the trip to the end and return to where she wanted to get off.
I wanted so badly to tell her to get her big behind off the bus and across the street to the bus stop and catch the next bus going to town, but I refrained.
When I got off at my stop in Mismaloya thirty minutes later, she was still there in her seat, glowering.
Silly thing.

Wheels

When we moved to Seattle from New York, we not only moved from the east coast to the west coast, we moved from a culture where easy transport was either the subway or taxicabs to a place where to get from point A to B you most certainly needed wheels.
So we got wheels.
Chuck got a snazzy, red MG sports car, seating two with no spare room for bags or groceries.
I got a mustard colored Volvo station wagon with ample room for groceries and dogs and extra folks.
Chuck later changed this car for an Alpha Romeo sports car, another two seater but this silver colored.
I stuck with the Volvo to the day I left the North West and moved to California and the reason I even bring this up is the situation today.
I now have my trusty Trooper, a very good replacement for the Volvo which, much like the Battery Bunny, kept going and going, even when some jerk forgot to connect all the four spark plugs at some cheap tune-up place.
So I take a deep breath when I get my Trooper out of the garage, say a silent prayer, and venture forth in my charger which, very much like me, creaks a bit and complains a bit but still keeps going.
So I still have wheels.

Doggie Smarts ?

She has it all figured out.
When I let the Worthless Ones out in the early morning, she is the first one back in. She then sits by the counter where the jar with the doggie biscuits is and stares, willing it to open and give her a biscuit.
I started a long time ago rewarding the mutts for coming back by giving them a biscuit, and now this one has it down pat. She comes in first and gets her reward and then, whenever another one appears she will be there, right next to the newcomer, expecting--and getting--a biscuit.
On good days for her, when her fellow mutts come home in drips and draps, she can get four more biscuits out of it.
Lately I have taken to breaking her biscuits in half; she doesn't seem to mind. It is the one and only thing she has figured out, so I hate to disappoint her.
She is getting a little heavy though.

I Talk To Myself

I talk to myself.
Not out loud, but I have long and involved conversations with me all the time, and a good thing too, since I don't see too many people here in the woods.
Sunday Rey was here to do some work and we talked. Today is Wednesday and I have not talked to a person since Rey.
So I talk to myself.
And mostly about the news that I check, or the shows I watch on the telly or the books that I read and I have learned that throwing things at the telly, yelling at the computer or hurling your book in the air is not solving any problems, so I talk to myself; I reason with me and I argue with me.
It is a darn sight better than talking to the Worthless Ones for they never listen anyway, and if I get upset about something and start yelling, they just look guilty and slink away.
So I talk to myself, because I am here and I listen and I don't ( can't ) go away.