Ode to my Cat

Oh, fierce terror recessed deep under the fat. Oh, fang'd and claw'd with sharp pointy things, you stalk the apartment on semi silent paws... The food bowl cowers and trembles at your stealthy approach, for it knows it's fate is at hand. Yea, let the squirrel approach the balcony with no trepidation at all, for it knows that lurking inside the glass door you are there. So, come oh squirrel, come dine on the bulbs I planted in happier times. Dine and revel. I hasten to open the door, placing death on four legs out, out onto the balcony to revenge me! You mew piteously, the squirrel snacks on. I let you back in. The thief chortles and stuffs it's face.

Sharing a favorite author

His name is Simon Winchester. His books are divine. I'm in love. 'nuff said. Okay, okay... Simon Winchester (who can be found at http://www.simonwinchester.com/ ) has written some gorgeous, intelligent books about...well, anything that happens to interest him. I was introduced to "The Professor and The Madman" some where along the line, (perhaps...divine providence?) and I've become a decided fan of his ability to turn what could be, potentially, a dull piece of informational history, into a real story with living breathing people who matter to me. People who have in fact, made my life considerably better because they existed. (read the "Professor and the Madman" and you'll see what I mean, not to mention, "The Meaning of Everything.") Currently I'm delving into "Krakatoa". Wow. I'm on page 29 only, and already I'm inspired to post a 'rah rah rah' to Mr. Winchester mid chapter. Who knew a book about a volcano explosion over 120 years ago would hold my interest so raptly? Alright, it's true I'M A NERD!! Nonetheless. He writes so well that one forgets they are learning, and instead the tale becomes the thing. Like Carl Sagan and Joseph Campbell before him, Simon Winchester shows a fascination and delight in what he writes about, and for those of you who rejoice in that, I really can't recommend him high enough. Start with "The Professor and the Madman", that ought to get you hooked!

I also blow my nose at her.

It was an innocent enough mistake. There was a discussion in the office about what books we were reading. I erred. I mentioned a book on quantum physics. Then, from across the room rang, "You are SUCH a nerd." with just the right amount of snide criticism aimed to deliver a pointed and painful blow. But then, before I retaliated with, "At least I'm not a V.C. ANDREWS DRONE!!!" I caught myself short and thought...I AM a nerd. I mean, "I AM A NERD!" I just remembered that in this world of indentifing tags, that's mine. So there! I love knowing strange things about lycanthropy, and being able to use the word impecunious (which I am) in a sentence. And so what? What's wrong with that? I'll you tell where the problems lies...it's that an adult co worker feels the need to point that out as if it's a deformity, really, she probably wouldn't shout out, "OH MY GOD, LOOK AT YOUR HAIR LIP!!!" (I hope anyway, it's hard to say after her little display.) Tsk tsk tsk. I should have come back with, "YOU ARE A FEEBLE MINDED GRADE FOUR TYPE PERSON WHO SHOULDN'T BE ALLOWED OUT IN THE REAL WORLD." But I didn't. Instead, like the good nerd I am, I turned the other cheek and muttered that her father was an 'ampster. Not to mention her mother!

The stuff of dreams.

What fascinating things dreams are. In this amazing time of space exploration and genome mapping, we are still held completely captive by dreams. No science has ever fully determined what a dream is, or why they occur. And yet despite our ignorance, they continue to happen to all of us every single night of our lives. And we all dream, we may not remember them and all their misty details, but we do dream. How can it be that these multi layered shows of light, sound and gripping emotion mean nothing? How can it be that despite some of our times most illustrious minds taking a stab at dream 'interpretation', we can't even know if they really DO have meaning beyond random brain spasms? And how is it that not everyone dreams in the same manner? I often wake with dazzling images of dreams still flashing full color in front of my alarm opened eyes, and blaring music (once AC/DC's "Highway to Hell"), echoing at full volume in my ears, but others claim to dream in only black and white and silence. What about the raw, left over emotions that can grip one long into days afterward. Who hasn't awoken, tears streaming down their face? Or joyous throughout the day for a particularly wonderful dream? Turning bright red at the sight of a co worker that one was involved with in a torrid affair not a few hours earlier isn't unheard of either. Dreams contain everything we could hope for and all that we fear. We understand so little about them that their shadowed secrets are safe for a long time, I think. We can only lie back, settle into sleep and hope that we have 'sweet' dreams, instead of the biting, chasing dreams we dread at 2:34am.