The Fat Guy In The Red Suit Ran Me Off The Road!

I know it may be very difficult to believe, but you're just going to have to take my word for it. I was driving home from my Mother's house on Christmas eve, keeping my eye out for pedestrians, deer, and other animals of smaller bulk (size), when a flock (a goup of reindeer would usually be called a herd, but since these were flying, I thought it more appropriate to call them a flock) of reindeer, pulling a sleigh, came flying right at me from the other direction. Well, not exactly right at me. They were coming towards me, but they were probably about ten feet off the ground. Which, as far as I'm concerned, is still way to low to be flying. Particularly when they were pulling a sleigh with crazy fat guy in a red suit yelling Ho! Ho Ho!
So, of course, I panicked, drove off the road and onto someone's lawn, where I managed to just miss a life size plastic Santa lawn ornament. I probably should have stopped and apologized for the tire tracks I left on the lawn, but I was quite perturbed at the time, and began ground pursuit of that UFO (unidentified flying object), as the Air Force would probably be calling it.
Anyhow, I chased the sight of them through a good part of New London County for most of the night, but I was never able to catch up to them. I finally had to give up and head on home. And just when I was maybe half a mile from my final destination, those damn reindeer found me. They snuck up from behind me, so I never saw them coming. I heard this explosive Ho! Ho! Ho!, and then suddenly it was raining reindeer poop. At least I had my windows up, but I have to tell you, windshield wipers just do not help in this particular situation.
I'll tell ya' this much, if I ever run into those reindeer again, I'm going to be eating venison for a reeeaaalllyyy long time. 
  

Thank You, Thank You, Thank You Very Much

There was an editorial in the local paper this morning about how important it is to be thankful for what we have, particularly in hard times (or when times are tough, if you prefer). It seems to me that it's easier to be concerned with what we don't have, than to be grateful for what we do have. And so, allow me to relate the following true story.
Some friends of mine, a young family, invited me to lunch. I met them at a Chinese restaurant, after I went to an appointment I had with my regular (family) doctor. When I arrived at the restaurant, they were already there, along with some friends of their's, another married couple with a couple of young children.
As I sat down at the table, I made one of my usual inane jokes, and said that the doctor told me I had a couple of more weeks to live. I forget sometimes, that death is taken more seriously in the Chinese culture, and not generally joked about. So, while silence set in around the table, the wife belonging to the other married couple said, "Congratulations! You have 2 more weeks!"
Now, she knew I was joking, and even though she was also joking (in fact, she was funnier than I was), her words made me think about the way most of us respond to things that happen to us. I believe that all things happen for a reason. If we can't see that reason, well, sometimes we just have to look harder.
Anyroad (anway, anyhow), wherever you are, whatever you are doing, and no matter what your situation is in life, try to remember all the things you have to be thankful for, and have the best Thanksgiving you possibly can.
May you have a truly happy one.

May I have This Dance?

Fall is beginning it's slow fade into Winter. Soon enough there will be snow on the ground, and the feeling of ice in the air. In another month or so, I will wish I had a fur coat like Albert's. I won't take his, however. He's rather attached to it. Of course, he prefers to live indoors, which is a bit unusual for a bear. But he was spoiled at a young age. I told that story a while back. You can find it somewhere back in this blog if you care to look for it. 
I've become quite used to having him around the house, even though there are moments when I would prefer he was a bearskin rug, rather than a live black bear. He tells me that I occasionally get on his nerves as well, and I should feel privileged that he hasn't eaten me. Yet. It might be a long Winter.
But my real trouble at the moment is with my immune system disorder, which is causing a rather serious sleep problem. Or, I should say, a serious lack of sleep problem. Which also means, most days recently I haven't been capable of exercising, which compounds the problem. But, nobody promised me a rose garden, to use a well known quote and expression.
I do complain, sometimes too much. But life goes on, nonetheless. Or, to put it another way, there is always music playing. Sometimes, fast, sometimes slow. At different times it can be sad, or happy, sedate, or wild and crazy. Whatever music we happen to be hearing, the best thing to do, is learn how to dance to it. It ain't always easy, but hey, it's not a job, it's an adventure. Can ya' dig it?
Anyroad, that being said, I have a book calling my name, a bird who needs some attention, as well as a foot to sleep on. And of course, a bear who wants me to stop annoying him by banging on these keys. If I don't see you, have a truly wonderful Thanksgiving, no matter where you happen to be.

No Lions, No Tigers, But The Bears! Oh, My!

Well, the tale that Albert told me is quite unbelievable. The old bear, who told the tale to Albert, claims to be the descendant of an ancient race of bears who had established their own civilization long before mankind had evolved much beyond their monkeyhood. This original bloodline of bears had their own language, culture, and government. In other words, a kingdom of bears with their own society. 
According to this very old descendant of this great race, they would choose a king every 20 years (or there abouts) based on intelligence, wisdom, heart, and physical strength. Their civilization lasted in peace and harmony for over a thousand years. Until, into this society, greed was born. 
There was a minority faction among the bears, who decided they wanted everything for themselves. They felt no loyalty to their great race. Only to themselves. They wished to control everything, from the food and honey, to all the female bears, and pretty much everything else. Of course, they knew it would not be easy for any of them to become King, because the King was chosen by a council of the oldest and wisest of the bears. So they had to do it by subterfuge (trickery). This group of malcontents chose a very young bear, and secretly began training him to outwardly act the part of the perfect King, while behind this false facade he would be their perfect agent to gain control. And, even though it many years, they did fool the council into chosing their agent as King .
Once they had control they were able to surround themselves with many of the strongest, although not the brightest of bears, through bribery and other unethical means. After that, they did away with the council of the old and wise bears, and made sure they were the ones to select each new King. This went on for over a hundred years, during which time this group of power hungry and nasty bears became fat and rich, while many other bears, not only were forced to work hard for the sake of this very selfish group, but also had trouble finding enough to eat, and in some cases, even being able to have a decent place to live.
But as these things tend to go, the majority of the bears finally became upset enough to attack and overthrow the rule of this small elite group. Unfortunately, this also led to an end of the Geat Bear Civilization. Because this small group of despicable bears had destroyed the innocence, trust, and goodwill that had existed in this peaceful society before they stole control, it was not possible for their civilization to continue as it had. It became every bear for himself. And so, they lost their language, their culture, and of course, their society. 
It is rather a sad tale. One can only wish that mankind (which does include womankind, of course), could learn from this story of an ancient bear civilization, be it true, or not.          

My Kingdom For A Horse

Well, as it so happens, I don't have a kingdom, but that's just a technicality. And, when I say I would give my kingdom for a horse, I'm really not talking about a real flesh and blood horse. I'm really using the idea of a horse to represent "energy". Energy is what I crave, and what I always seem to have a shortage of. It just doesn't seem fair. I was talking to my sister this morning, and she mentioned how my brother-in-law (her husband), had completed his soccer season (he coaches a women's college team), and needed to replenish his energy level. For some of us, this is definitely more difficult than for others.
Due to my continually ongoing immune system disorder, maintaining my energy is seriously problematical, and takes a great deal of effort, particularly in regards to diet and exercise.
So, I woke up this morning somewhere around 5 am, when my neighbor seemed to be loudly dismembering the body of her latest murder victim. Yep, I think she's a serial killer. There's no other explanation. At least once a week, early in the morning I hear her whacking away at something with an ax or a hammer. She seems very sweet and quiet when I see her, but that quiet exterior must be hiding a raging psychopath underneath. I really don't want to complain, to her or the property manager, because I might be her next early morning project.
Anyroad, after laying in bed for close to two hours (after putting earplugs in), I dragged myself out of bed, and while holding a gun to my head with one hand, went out jogging. Since then, for the last three hours, I have managed to shower and get Eddie's Castle (it's a very large cage) ready for the day. I am moving with the speed of molasses going uphill.
So you might have an inkling (slight idea) of how I feel about energy. Now, to the best of my knowledge, vampires don't exist, or at least there's no proof that they do. And the whole idea of drinking blood just doesn't appeal to me. But, if I could become a vampire that was able to drain energy from unsuspecting victims, well,  that would be a horse of a different color.
And so, now that we've come back to the idea of a horse once again, I will say, Be well, and stay out of trouble if you can.

Warm November Days

We have been having some unseasonable warm and sunny weather for this time of year. Not that I am complaining. It will be cold and blusterly soon enough. I believe the blusterly part will come about on Friday. And yes, it will be colder as well, but not the biting cold of Old Man Winter. He will arrive more than soon enough. After our record breaking October snowstorm here in Connecticut, I have a feeling it could be a rather snowy Winter season. The Old Farmer's Almanac thinks so as well. We'll see.
Albert, my black bear friend, stopped by for a visit. He told me an interesting story that he heard from a very old bear, who was living in a cave in some remote hills in the wilds of Arkansas. How Albert ended up there on his walkabout, I have no idea. I'll try to relate the story he heard to you on another occasion. It's too long a tale to tell at the moment. But it does cast an interesting light on Bear, as well as Human, History. So, another time.
Anyroad, for those of you who enjoy using the wonderful facilities of your local Public Library here in the US of A, try to remember that it will be closed on Friday, which is Veteran's Day, a national holiday. And these soldiers, those who are alive, and those who given their lives, deserve much more than our thoughts and well wishes on just this one day. They sacrifice, and have sacrificed, more than we can possibly imagine, for their, and our, country. As well as for the welfare of people in other countries. 
So, for those of you who are blessed, and lucky to be living in this wonderful country, like myself, please remember those soldiers who have fought, and those soldiers who are fighting, and have shed, and are shedding, their blood, sweat, tears, and in some cases, their lives. All for our way of life. Because without that willingness to fight for our freedom, and our basic human rights, such as the Freedom of Speech, would there even be a United States of America? I strongly doubt it.
As much as there are segments (parts or groups) of the population here in the US, that tend to make me howling mad (literally) on occasion, it is the fact that we can all live here in peace (mostly), that makes this a great country.     

Yes, No, Maybe...Maybe Not

Well, there may be someone out there wondering where I've been, and what happened to me. So, let me clear a few things up. Yes, I'm still alive, and in one piece. No, I haven't robbed a bank and had to lay low (hide out) down in Mexico. Maybe it would have been a good thing if I had been on walkabout with my friend Albert, campaigning against global warming. Then again, maybe not. 
Fighting global warming would be a good thing, but watching Albert take some of those right wing (Republican) villains to task can make me a little green around the gills (an expression meaning nauseous). See, Albert is a bear, and he takes global warming very seriously since he heard about some of his Polar Bear cousins no longer having a place to live. Anyway, when he gets mad, it ain't pretty. I hear there a few fat cats (rich & well-to-do people; not that all rich and/or well-to-do people are evil, but many seem to be) that Albert helped lose some weight. Usually, he takes a contribution of an arm or a leg. Literally. Both an arm and a leg, for those who really get him angry.
But, in my case, I've just been trying to get myself back on an even keel (functioning well). It's been a bit of a battle to get both my sleep and exercise back on a regular schedule. This hasn't been one of my better years for keeping my chronic fatigue syndrome under control. I'm working on it, though. So, please bear with me. And no, that wasn't a crack about Albert.
For those of you who have been following the Republican presidential candidate front runners, all I can say, is it really does seem like a long running Jerry Springer show. So enjoy.
So, to sum up: Yes, I'm still happy to be alive. No, I don't plan on getting dead soon (although we don't usually have a choice as to when that will happen). Maybe, Eddie and my ship will come in (hit it big, usually financially), and we'll move to Bora Bora. But then, maybe not.  
  

Bushwacked by Some Shrimp

Well, the the story is: I had an allergic reaction to some shrimp I ate last weekend. It wasn't a particularly deadly attack by those damn little shellfish, but I went to the emergency room to make sure it wouldn't get any worse. There, they gave me a steroid to help take down any swelling and prevent any breathing problems. Unfortunately, the steroid also caused some intestinal problems, and kept me awake for most of the last three nights. I did see my regular Doctor today, and he gave me a prescription for something to ease my intestinal discomfort, and help me sleep. So, with luck, I just might get a decent night of shut-eye (sleep) tonight. 
I'm sure it will take a day or two to recover my usual bright and cheerful self, so I won't be running any of my conversation groups at the Library for the rest of the week. But I'm sure I'll be bored to tears by next week, and will be quite happy to be back pretending to teach some English next week.
Anyhow, be well, stay out of trouble, and check back here when you get a chance, for any further updates, or stange weather, and/or news reports.
And if you'd like to make me happy, go find some obnoxious Republican, and kick him or her in the ankle.

Monsters, Vampires, & Werewoves, Oh, My!

October is my favorite month. Why? you may ask. Because Halloween is my personally favorite holiday. How could this be?! you are probably wondering. And to answer that,  I say, I live for wonderfully scary and horrifying stories. Not true stories, you understand, but fiction. I read a lot of different kinds of stories, from some mainstream (popular fiction, like bestsellers), although not much, to a lot of science fiction, historical fiction, fantasy, dark fantasy, horror, and any combination of them.
But October is the perfect month to read those dark fantasy and horror stories. In part, because the month ends with Halloween, which represents the pagan holiday of Samhain. In past times particularly, but still today for some, this holiday was thought to be the time of year when the separation, or the door, so to speak, between the living and the dead is at its thinnest. And so, communication, and even contact, is possible. Or so it is believed. By some.
But October is also perfect for those spine-tingling stories, because it is getting colder, as winter approaches. The leaves are changing color, and beginning to fall from the trees, and darkness is falling earlier as the days grow shorter. Yep, I'll say it again. I love October.
Eddie, my feathered friend, doesn't really care what time of year it might be. As long as he is warm, gets fed, and can receive headrubs upon demand, it's all the same to him.
Then there's Albert. Normally, at this time of year, bears would probably be making preparations to hibernate for the winter. Albert, however, who is now quite used to living indoors most of the time, seems to have no intentions towards sleeping through the winter. In fact, right now he is planning on going walk-about (an Australian term for wondering around, sometimes for very extended periods of time) for a month or two. He's been watching a lot of tv, and he heard a lot about how global warming is destroying the homes of the Polar Bears, and making life difficult for many animals. He's pretty angry. Unfortunately, he has also heard a number of politicians, pundits, and presidential hopefuls, (Republicans all, of course), denying there was any such thing as global warming, and speaking against any action to correct it. Big mistake. At least, as far as Albert is concerned.
So, he wants to drop-in on as many of these fish-for-brains idiots (His words; it's lucky I can understand him. Mostly.) as he can come across. What his exact intentions are, I can't tell you. But, I can say, I believe he has tasted human flesh at least once in the past. And, after all, it is the perfect month for trick and/or treating. Any treats, however, would probably be for Albert. And none that would be given freely.
So, it's not Halloween yet, but you can't begin to prepare too early. But be forewarned. If you are on the right (as in the conservative) side of the political spectrum, I would try to avoid letting a big black bear named Albert into your home. It would not be a good thing. Just a word to the wise.

The End of the World As I Know It

A quick update. Time always seems to be in short supply and high demand. At least, it is for me. So, as I type, the Red Sox are barely winning, and fighting off very possible defeat. There's only two games left to the season, and if they want to get into the playoffs, their only chance includes winning both games. Of course, as a Red Sox fan, there is always a sense of doom that I feel in this kind of situation.
But I have been feeling very pessimistic recently about life. Not just the Red Sox falling apart, which they tend to do towards the end of many seasons. The damn media's slant on the Obama Administration is really annoying, and I don't mean a favorable one. The fat cat owners of the networks and news media love to make Obama look bad whenever they can. And I don't even want to talk about those traitors to humanity, the Republicans. Oh yeah, and the worst, and most proud to be ignorant, the completely laughable, if they weren't so vile, Tea Party.
Anyroad, life has an appearance of bleakness to me recently. But not too worry. I have too much to do to be able to afford the time to waste dwelling on it. I had a busy day today. It started at about 1:00 a.m., when Eddie had a nightmare and started flapping around in his cage. I had to talk to him for about a half hour so he would calm down, and go back to sleep. I still managed to get up in time to jog. And after showering, I trimmed Eddie's nails, which he hates, but it's got to be done. And, I did get a lot of cleaning done, ran some errands, managed to do some work on-line, including reviewing a Mandarin lesson. And even had some time to do a bit of reading.
That's it kids. Tomorrow's another day. Hope y'all had a good few days, and a wonderful night. Until next time, Adios, mi Amigos! Take no prisoners! Particularly if their damn Republicans.

OoooOOO! I get soOOoo mad!

I try to never get in a serious discussion of politics because I have an unbelievable amount anger and disgust that seems to be brought out by the antics and despicable conduct of the Republicans, in particular that group that calls itself the Tea Party. So, my intention is to only get into this once, because even just thinking about it is too frustrating. And life is too short to waste it on moronic clowns who can't see beyond their own noses, and whose main concern in life are their wallets. OOOooo, I really don't like them.
There once was a good Republican. His name was Abraham Lincoln. That was back when the Republican Party actually stood for what the Democratic Party now stands for. Since then, I can't think of a single Republican that I would call good. Although, to be fair there must have been at least one somewhere back there. 
Through what I could only think had to be greed, selfishness, hunger for power, and corruption, the Republican Party has come to represent only the rich and, of course, corporate America. They seem to have adopted that infamous pirate motto (from Pirates Of The Caribbean), take what you can, and give nothing back.
Right now they are petrified by President Obama, for, I think, a number of reasons. He represents everthing they are not. He actually wants to unify the country, make it a better place for everyone. That includes raising the quality of life for EVERYONE, including making health care available, and AFFORDABLE, for everyone. This pretty much goes against the grain of the Republican Manifesto. Being as they are anything but humanitarian, they do not want to see any costly help of anykind for the poor, disadvantaged, and elderly citizens of this country.
In my own opinion the behavior of the Republicans goes behind mere obstructionism. They are saboteurs, and yes, legislative terrorists. They will do, and say anything, and everything, to stop the President from accomplishing anything constructive, and do everything in their power to make him look as bad as possible.
As I said, I believe their fear is based mainly on the possibility of President Obama really accomplishing something. And I believe, at least in part, some of their fear has to do with him being an African-American. But regardless. Them dang Republicans (and I can think many good names for them) truly disgust me. So, to them, I say, Step Off, #@%^!&*s. Take a hike.
And that, as Forrest Gump would say, is all I have to say about that. 

A Story

Once upon a time...many stories start just like that, with those exact words. So, to continue...
There was a young bear cub (baby bear), who got lost in the forest. A young girl found him wandering, and thought he was very cute, so took him home. The girl's parents, particularly her father, was very unusual in how he viewed the world, and decided to let his daughter keep the bear cub.
The bear cub became very attached to the young girl, and really liked living in a nice warm house. He and the young girl had many interesting adventures over the course of several years, but as all living things usually do, the bear and the girl began to grow up. Even though the girl loved the bear, the girl's parents became concerned that one day the bear might become dangerous and hurt someone. So the father arranged to give the bear to a zoo, where he would be cared for, but he would have to live in a cage. The girl was heart-broken at first, but in the way of young girls, she discovered other interests, including boys, and soon forgot all about the bear.
In the meantime, the bear was very unhappy living in the zoo, and became rather depressed. He soon lost interest in his surroundings, and in life. But one day, lo and behold, the zookeeper who brought him his food, was called away, before he had properly locked the cage door, by an emergency at the monkey cage. It seems a young boy, who had been taunting (teasing in a not very nice way) a monkey, got too close to the cage, and so the monkey got a grip on his hair, and wasn't letting go.
Well the bear, finally taking some interest in what was happening around him, took advantage of the situation, and escaped. He wandered in the woods, doing his best to avoid people for many months. One day, he saw his opportunity to sneak in a man's backdoor, while he was taking out the garbage.
And that my friends, is how Albert first came to be hiding under my bed. Lucky for me, I have the gift of the silver tongue (the ability of persuasion), which helped Albert to decide not to eat me and take over my apartment.
Anyroad, there's your story. So goodnight to ya'.

Zippidy Doo Dah Day

I saw someone I hadn't run into in a long time in the supermarket a couple of days ago. A beautiful young woman, both in looks and, more importantly, personality, and her 3 year old daughter, who hid from me by putting her hands in front of her face. I do have a reputation for making young children cry. I don't know what it is about my face that brings not only tears, to their faces, but also pulls howls from their lungs, like the world is coming to a horrible end. I actually used to take pride in the fact, that I could get the baby daughter of two of my friends to cry to beat the band (an expression that, in this case, means at maximum volume), just be looking at her. It was quite amazing actually. I have to say, although she is older now, as a baby, X (no name to protect the poor cry baby) could cry like nobody else possibly could, no matter what the age.
Anyroad (I really like that word), I believe it's important to appreciate the people in our lives while we can. B (name not given to protect the beautiful) was once someone I saw every week in my conversation group at the local Library. Then her husband had to go and get her pregnant. That was over 3 years ago. Well, my loss was her gain. She always was a very happy person, now even more so. It was good to see her.
As I was saying, we need to appreciate the people in our lives. I have to say, I become very attached to the people who come to my conversation groups. And, I become not only used to seeing them, but I look forward to it. Then, schedules change, or jobs change, and in some cases, I see them very rarely, or not at all. Oh, I don't forget them, and I don't think they forget me. But my life seems a little emptier, a little more drab (colorless). And, of course, there will be other people who come to the Library for me to torture, but I will always miss all those I see no longer.
So, look around you. Make sure you appreciate the special people in your life. You never know when your paths may, or may not, go in different directions.
On that note, I gotta' go. Eddie is fed up with my typing, and wants some serious headrubbing. He knows he's the boss. And how can I refuse that sparsely (yup, he's a bit bald on top) feathered little head. Hasta luego (until later). 

Do You Wanna' Dance, and Hold My Hand?

I should probably remember the musical group (rock'n'roll, of course) that did that song, but it was a long time ago, and I was but a tadpole, so to speak. Memory is a funny thing. Sometimes I can't remember what I did last Tuesday. On the other hand, I can remember distinctly playing cards on the living room floor of my cousins' (plural) house the first time I heard the Beatles singing Yellow Submarine on the radio, and laughing hysterically at the songs lyrics. And that was quite a few blue moons ago.
I have always felt a need, upon occasion, to go back to where I came from in order to remember who I am. Confused? It's not too complicated really. As someone once said, how can you know where you are going, if you don't know where you came from? Every now and again I get a little lost along the way. It is not difficult for me to get distracted by the the unimportant things in day to day living, and to be overly concerned with my own minor needs and wants. That's when it's important to look back, and by way of my past, remember who I am and where I'm going. We never really lose that child we were, and it can be the best part of us a good bit of the time.
Anyhow, Eddie and Albert are here to help out as well. They tend to keep me focused, although not always in the way I would like.
At the moment, however, it's only Eddie and I, and Eddie is sleeping in his castle (it's a really big cage). Albert's out dancing in the night time air. But whether he has found someone to hold his hand, only he can say. Whether alone or not, any physical activity he gets is good. You wouldn't believe how much that bear can eat. Trust me. He needs any and all the exercise he can get. And, as most of us do, he'll come home when he's ready. There's always a light burning.    

Shanghai'd

Some of you may wonder where I have been. I'm really not sure. Really! Some people I don't know very well, asked me to go to a tea party. When I entered the building at the address I was given, I was whacked over the head. The next thing I knew, I was in a moving vehicle, blindfolded and tied up.
To make a long story short, I ended up on a farm somewhere in the southwest, someplace hot and dry. Maybe Arizona. Anyway, I ended up working in the fields for what seemed like weeks, but was probably only a matter of days. I finally managed to escape late one night, and I was able to hitch (hitchhike) a ride most of the way back here, from a truck driver.
I had a bit of time on the ride back to think about it what happened to me, and my best guess, is that all those idiotic Republicans and Tea Partiers are getting too successful in keeping out the the illegal immigrants from Mexico. Now, they don't have anyone to work the fields. And of course, they sure don't want to do it themselves. So now they're shanghai'ing whoever they can, including US citizens, like yours truly, to get the work done. Maybe I can get a book deal out of this. How about, "I Was Kidnapped by Rabid Tea Partiers!", for a title?
The truth shall set you free! Hallelujah!!
Anyroad, I'm back. Much has been happening in the world. And as soon as I find out what, I'll probably have something to say about it. Interestingly enough, it seems, that while I was gone, Albert managed to take care of Eddie without eating him. Kind of amazing, actually. Neither one of them seemed to even know I was gone. Show's you how much I'm appreciated around here.
A final note of warning. If I were you, I wouldn't be accepting any invitations to any tea parties, unless they are from VERY good friends. Even then, BE CAREFUL! Those right wing fanatics are lurking everywhere!

It's Every Bear for Himself (or Herself) When the Crick Is Rising

"Crick" is a backwoods (or hillbilly, if you like) form of creek. Another way of saying If God's Willing, is "If the Lord's willing and the crick don't rise". I'm not sure where a creek fits in the size category, compared to brook, stream and river. My guess is that it's a rough and tumble stream, but then my imagination likes to run wild. But for me, the idea of fishing in a creek creates a picture of a bare-foot boy, in a loose shirt and overalls, wearing a big straw hat, and fishing with a long pole, made from a tree branch, with fishing line tied to it.
Anyroad, Albert and I had quite a time fishing down Maine way. We found a nice stretch of river (sorry, don't remember the name) off the beaten path (very little traffic, human or vehicle). Albert did pretty well for awhile, learning how to handle a fishing pole, as well as the worms we used for bait. He was doing so well, that when I went around a bend in the river to look for a better spot to put my line in the water, I wasn't too concerned about losing sight of him. And that's where the trouble came in.
I did find a good spot. And while I was landing a 14 inch rainbow trout, it seems Albert had a run-in with a game warden who was checking fishing licenses, but who wasn't expecting to find a bear in baggy clothes and a floppy hat, who was fishing with a fishing pole. It probably would be more appropriate to say, the game warden, God rest his soul, had a run-in with Albert. Exactly how it all went down (happened), I couldn't tell you. By the time I got there, after first hearing all the growling and yelling, there wasn't much left of that fish and game warden.
So, after making Albert wash up (he was a mess), we got out of there like our tails were on fire. Well, neither one of us has a tail to speak of, but you get the idea.
Needless to say, I don't plan on taking Albert fishing again any time soon. In fact, I don't plan on going back to Maine until a good amount of time has passed. A few years, anyway.
 Might have been better for that game warden if the crick had risen, suddenly and considerably. And definitely, before any of us had arrived.

Gone Fishin'

So, don't come lookin' for me anytime soon. Albert and I are going fishing.
It's always exciting to prepare for a day or two of fishing. It's important to get to bed early, so you can be where the fish are when the sun comes up. For those who aren't familiar with the act of trying to catch fresh water fish, the best time to be casting your line into the water is either when the sun is coming up, or going down. The time in between is for relaxing, and of course, daydreaming.
I can remember when I was much younger, how excited I would get just knowing I was going fishing the next morning. Excited enough, upon occasion, to make sleep itself into a fish that was difficult to catch.
Albert, however, will make this into quite the adventure. His experience of fishing, is a horse of a different color. Being a bear, he is used to using his claws and, pardon my poor rhyming, jaws. So, using a fishing pole will be quite a new experience.
But that's only the half of it. I have a feeling if anyone were to see him riding around in a motor vehicle, we would probably get into a fair amount of trouble. That's where the real preparation comes in. I managed to get a big floppy hat, large plaid shirt, and some large fisherman's overall waders (the kind with suspenders, like farmer's overalls). He's not overjoyed to wear this outfit, but he understands the necessity. And, I rented a van with tinted windows, just to be safe.
Well, there you have it. I think Albert is more excited than I am. I'm not sure either of us will get much sleep tonight.
With all the commotion are preparations have been making, I think my feathered friend, Eddie, will be quite happy to see us go. He's not too happy about any kind of excitement, unless it's purely his own, usually over one of his favorite tv commercials, which of course, feature someone whistling in the background. 
Anyway, if you happen to see us driving around in a furtive manner, PLEASE, pretend you don't know us. Thank you. Until next time, enjoy yourselves, and stay out of trouble.

Time Travels by Speed Train

Wow. It's already close to the middle of August. I remember just seeing my friend's daughter as she was getting ready to go to China for a month and a half. And this Sunday, two and a half days from now, she will get back. And, come to think of it, I can remember getting hit in the head with a toy rifle when I was in 8th grade, just like it was yesterday. And now I'm 29 years old (Yeah, you heard me. I said, 29. Wanna' make something of it?) I feel like I'm in a time machine going the wrong way.
Anyway, I guess if there is a lesson to be learned, from this runaway train called time, it's to enjoy all we can, while we can. And to appreciate each other, and all we have, as much as possible. Because this life, is a rental. Nobody, as the famous Jim Morrison once sang, gets out of here alive.
So, feel blessed, and don't let a moment be wasted. Make sure you follow whatever dreams you may have, and accomplish something worthwhile. Me? I think I'm going to take my friend, Albert the black bear, fishing. It's the least I can do for someone who has added some excitement, & laughter, to my life.

Blundering Along

I am a very lucky guy. I have things to do in my life that not only do I love and enjoy, but they give me wonderful reasons to fight my periods of moodiness, and depression. Don't get me wrong. I do not have severe depression. I am not depressed all the time, or every day. Some days, however, usually late in the day, I have a difficult time feeling good about anything, including myself. Those are usually the days that joining the French Foreign Legion sounds like a good idea. It's on those days, and during those sometimes overwhelming moments, that I know I'm lucky to have my family, my friends, and of course, my little feathered companion, Eddie. Remembering them, helps me remember the responsibility I have to be in their lives. And it reminds me, that despite everything else, this is where I belong.
And so, as sad as I might feel on any given evening, I know tomorrow will always be a new day. And I know, that just one of my good days, will always make up, for all the bad ones.
Like I said. I'm a pretty lucky guy.  

Blue Moon

I'm feeling a bit blue today, which isn't good motivation for getting things done. I had intentions of doing some housecleaning, and maybe even some laundry. But all I have accomplished so far, on this splendid day, is reading the newspaper, hanging out with Eddie, and being a couch cowboy. Yeehaa!
I did, however, find the actual definition of a blue moon, which most people believe to be the second full moon in the same month. But that is not correct. The phrase was originally coined (created) by farmers quite a few blue moons ago. A blue moon is the third full moon in a season that has four full moons. A season, of course, has three months, or thereabouts, such as spring or fall. So, there you have it.
Anyroad (the original word that was replaced by anyway), I don't think I will get much cleaning done today. And that's ok. I will take some time to go over my current Mandarin lesson, do some pleasure reading, be pestered by Eddie, and maybe eat some cherries that were so kindly given to me.
Tomorrow is another day. I might as well get what enjoyment I can from my blue mood, and ride it out.
Soon enough it will be another full moon. And then, once again, I will have to attempt to track down the werewolf that is terrorizing the city. It's a tough job, but it's a living. As long as I don't get dead.   

I Have A Migraine In My Eye

I tend to be a bit of a hypochondriac. So, when I started to see some weird flickering (something like a wavy distortion) in my eye that blocked some of my peripheral vision, well, let's just say I became a bit concerned. But my sister told me that it's most likely a migraine in my eye, and they're not uncommon. She convinced me I wasn't going blind, or having a fatal brain aneurysm (a weakness in a blood vessel in the brain that can burst). Which means, I suppose, I will live for another day. This is good news to Eddie, who would have some difficulty getting by without my help.
Most of us are very dependent upon our vision for many reasons. It is nice to be able to see where you're going, whether you're walking, running, riding a bike, or driving a car. In fact, you could say that it's kind of important. Our's is a very visual world. We depend on our eyes for almost everthing. From working, reading, watching tv, and even when we comunicate face to face, we are very dependent on being able to see the other person's face and body language. 
Even in our language, we place great importance on our eyes. "My eye!" is equivalent to "Not a chance", or, "Over my dead body!" Sometimes when someone is trying to convince someone else that he/she is not lying, they will swear "On my Mother's (or it could be wife's, husband's, or children's) eyes."
Anyway, anyhow (or as someone I know says, Anyhoo), the migraine in my eye has moved into my head. So, I am going to take a couple of tylenol, drink a cup of tea, and relax on the sofa while Eddie pesters me for headrubs, and such. So, take care of yourselves, and each other, stay out of trouble, and look out for low flying migraines.   

The English Language Is My Oyster

So, you might ask, how does one speak English fluently. The easiest way is, for it to be your native language. Or, you could have a gift for language, and pick it up the way you would a cup of tea. Unfortunately for most of us, it is a continual struggle to learn another language. Yes, I just battled my way through another Mandarin lesson. And like some other lessons in learning a language that often does not make sense to me, I came out of it feeling wrung (the past of wring) out, both physically, and mentally. Sometimes it seems that I am beating myself over the head (instead of a dead horse), in order to learn something new. Then, when I finally get it (understand), I feel like an idiot for not understanding it sooner. Yeah, I guess I am not the genius I would like to think I am. Boy, howdy (an expression).
Anyway, life is definitely struggle. If it wasn't, who would we be? Probably no one we would want to know. Or hang out with, for that matter.
Well, I can only say, that I am extremely thankful for the example of all my ESOL friends. They keep coming back for more punishment from that confusing, and complex English language. My little headache from trying to learn Mandarin is minor in comparison. Actually, if wasn't for them, I wouldn't even have thought to try to learn another language. And of course, there's always that faint, but persistent hope, that I will meet and marry a beautiful, and rich, Chinese woman. Who can say? Stranger things have happened.

A Walk in the Park

"A walk in the park" is an expression that is similar to "piece of cake," as well as "easy as pie." It can also simply mean, a walk in the park. And some walks in the park are not a "walk in the park," if you know what I mean.
Take my last walk through Central Park in New York City. I hadn't gotten more than one hundred yards into the park, when I had to give up my wallet at knife point. A little bit further in, someone with a baseball bat took my shoes. I don't know why he wanted them. He had a perfectly good pair, himself.
After that, I was chased by three guys, who I think were speaking Russian. They took my pants.
And before I could get out of the park, I had to run from a pack of wild dogs. At least, I think they were dogs, but I didn't want to wait around to find out for sure (certain).
That was just the early part of my evening. When I fnally escaped from my "walk in the park," I was arrested by the police for running around without any pants on. I believe they thought I was some sort of pervert. So, I spent the rest of the night in jail.
But, I have learned my lesson. If I want to go for a walk now, I look for a nice busy, smelly, and unpleasant looking area of city streets and parking lots.
I stay out of those deceptively beautiful parks. Which, just like Rupert Murdoch's wife, can be extremely dangerous, as well as beautiful.

Would You Rather Be A Fish?

I have to admit, I complain a lot. Maybe not out loud, but definitely in my head (mind). Well, sometimes out loud. But generally speaking, the one who hears me is a little feathered friend of mine. And he really doesn't care too much, as long as he gets his food and water. And, of course, unlimited headrubs.
In fact, he might actually complain more than me. Mainly (primarily) because I have spoiled him rotten. If I am too slow about getting him out of his cage in the morning, he starts yelling. Even if I am not that slow, he begins yelling, just on principle. If I leave the room without taking him with me, yep, you got it, he starts yelling. But, I can't blame him. It's not the easiest thing to be a small colorful bird. He has to depend on me for just about everything. Having been a domestic bird all his life, he wouldn't survive in the outside world for very long at all. With all his beautiful color, a predator, like a hawk, would have him for lunch in not time at all. Now, I know a predator could get me, too. Maybe one of those seemingly invisible cougars that are wandering around Connecticut. Or, possibly one of the migrating polar bears that have been forced from their homes up north. And I'm not forgetting that dangerous rogue elephant, hiding somewhere around here. But, more than likely, the one that gets me would probably be one of those big buses that lie in wait for some poor human to walk by, and then, BOOM! I'll be history.
Anyway, as horrible as humans can be, for and to the world, we -and by we, I mean I- should be greatly thankful for the life we have. Even more than that, we should be kind and considerate to all those less fortunate than ourselves. And that includes animals. (Although I won't tell you to be considerate of republicans. They're on their own. I have nothing good to say about them).
So, you don't have to be a fisherman, or fisherwoman, but would you really want to be a fish?

Make Good Dreams, My Friends

Make good dreams. That's what I usually tell Eddie when I am saying goodnight to him. It's my way of wishing him well until I see him again, which in his case, will be in the morning. Not having much on my mind at the moment, other than getting a decent night's sleep, myself, to you I say, Make good dreams, my Brothers and Sisters. May you be held dear, in the bosom of the Infinite.

Did Your Day End The Way You Thought It Would?

When I got up this morning, I really didn't think about how my day would end. I generally try to live moment by moment. But I usually don't expect anything out of the ordinary to happen. At least, not too much out of the ordinary. After all, I do have a black bear living under my bed. Or, I should say, mostly under my bed. When I arrived home, it did appear that there was a much greater mess in the kitchen and living room, then when I left. And the tv, which I had left on the comedy channel for Eddie, was now on the animal channel. It was showing the end of some program on salmon fishing.
But that's not where my day ended. I had to go back to the Library where they were hosting an author/writer of strange and speculative fiction, Kaaron Warren. She talked about her writing, her books, where some of her ideas have come from, as well as some ghost, and crime, stories. Listening to her actually inspired me. You see, I think, and sometimes talk, about writing a lot. But I have trouble picking a direction with my writing. Mainly, because I do really like the strange, and horrific, but for some reason, I don't feel free to go in that direction. But that is what Kaaron Warren writes about. And I truly enjoyed listening and talking to her. She has rekindled my desire to write.  
Also, I have to admit, I do tend to be lazy, so I don't push myself to find my own direction in writing. Or, you could say, to find my own writing "voice".
 Well, and it is yet to be seen where it leads, but this evening, I think, Kaaron has given my little brain a tweak.
Anyway (Anyhow), Albert (the black bear) tells me he wants me to take him fishing. He wants to try it the human way, with a fishing pole. That should be quite interesting. I hope I live to tell about it. 

There's A Bear In My Bedroom, And It's Not Me

It always seems I am waking up during the night with the bed covers down at the bottom of the bed. I just assumed I had somehow pushed them down while I was sleeping. It never crossed my mind that some other being could be pulling them down from under my bed. Who would have thought that?
So, the other night, I was partially awake, and I felt the covers being pulled down. Thinking that, maybe, I was dreaming, I climbed out of bed and knelt down to take a look under the bed. And there, looking back at me with a mouth full of teeth, was a black bear. And not a small one either. I have no idea how he (yes, it was a he) managed to get under there. As he climbed out of there, I wasn't sure if I should be afraid of him or not. But it seems, thank God, that he would rather talk than eat me. He told me later, that people really don't taste good anyway, and he was partial to pancakes.
When I asked him what he was doing under my bed, Albert (yep, his name is Albert) told me he liked it under there. He was sick of living in the, slowly disappearing, wild. He told me it was a bear eat bear world out there in the woods. Not only did he have to worry about other bears, but he also had to keep an eye out for hunters, and almost as bad, maybe even worse, land developers. These developers are cutting down the forest, and building houses and other buildings, along with creating huge parking lots. He believes most of them are Republicans, who are intent on wiping out all the bears, as well as all the other poor little animals.
I told him he could stay as long as he wanted, on the conditions that he not tie up the bathroom when I needed it, and that he not scare Eddie. He said, No problem.
He only plans on staying until the Republicans cause the collapse of human civilization, and the forest, along with the animals, take possession of the world once again. And because of my kindness, once that happens, he will protect me in the new world. Or, I should say, the return of the old world.
In the meantime, I guess I will just have to bear with him. (ouch!)

Security Is A Feeling

Many people believe security means financial independence (being wealthy). But security should mean, feeling safe. Or, at least, make someone feel safe. Now, I think everyone can probably agree, that having enough money can take away a lot of worries. It can also "grease" the wheels of life (make life easier, in other words). But there really is nothing, including a few million dollars, that can make someone perfectly safe. But feeling safe, well, that's a horse of a different color (an expression that, in this case, simply means, that's a different thing altogether).
There are many things that make us feel safe. It's a personal thing. I feel safe when I am relaxing at home, lost in a good book, or enjoying the company of friends. Many people feel safe when they are in bed. Eddie likes to relax while sleeping on my foot, when I have my legs up on the sofa. I like to believe he feels safe then. 
At night, when I am getting ready for sleep, I cover his cage with a dark sheet, which only covers three sides of his cage. He has to have a nightlight shine in the fourth side, because cockatiels are prone to (tend to, or have a tendency towards) night frights. If he hears a noise at night, and can't see, he will panic and try to fly. And being in a cage, of course, if he tries to fly he will injure himself.
But after I put the sheet on his cage, I have to talk to him for a minute or two, so he will calm down enough, and feel safe enough to go to sleep. It's a routine we have. And maybe, we both need it.
Anyway, I think the feeling of being safe is kinda' like the felling of being loved. They have a lot in common. And if you can't grasp that concept (understand what I'm saying), then I'm wasting my breath. Or, in this case, wasting what little typing skill I have. 

It's Those Little Moments

Most of the time, I am caught up in my little life, going from task to task, doing all those things I have to do. And, of course, when I have some free time, I then hang out on the couch with Eddie, either reading or watching tv.
But every once in a while, something manages to drag me out of my little world, out into the big, wide, beautiful world around me. Yes, there are many times, in fact maybe most of the time, I really don't have a fully conscious appreciation of the world around me. At least, not as much as I should. Take today, for instance. I lay in bed as long as I could, until I had just enough time to take a shower before getting Eddie up for the day. I did have a productive day, however. I cleaned and disinfected Eddie's castle (he has a very large cage), which is more than a two hour job. After eating, I did my laundry, and ran the errands I had to get done. After that, I hung out with Eddie, finished reading a book, and watched a little tv. Not a bad day, but nothing earth shaking about it.
But then I had one of those moments.
I usually start getting Eddie ready for sleep around 9 pm. One of the first things I do is clean the husks (the shells from the seeds he eats) out of his food dish. I do this outside my front door. Tonight, when I went out there, it was twilight. And it was one of the most beautiful evenings I can remember ever seeing. There was still a little light in the sky, and the sky itself was an amazing shade of purple. There were these little white wispy clouds floating in it. And the sky was all I could see, because it was much brighter than anything else I could see. 
For a moment, a moment that seemed to last much longer than it did, a moment I could have lived a life in, I forgot my little life completely. I was reminded how big the world is. A world spinning through space, in a huge galaxy, with a star at it's center. For a moment, there was nothing more important than this glorious vision.
It's those brief moments, that make life so completely worth being alive for.   

One Bird's Poop, Is Another Man's Mess

So, as usual, I am minding my own business, learning Mandarin on the computer with my headphones on, when Eddie (my new familiar name for Edgar), does his business while perched on my shoulder. This means his business is probably now sitting somewhere on my shirt. I haven't looked, yet. Of course, you can't really blame Eddie. He's just doing what a bird naturally does. Having a bald head, I don't want to add more stress to his life. He might lose more feathers. He looks funny enough as it is. Sshh. Don't tell him. It might make him feel bad.
Birds are very different from people. Birds live more by instinct, while we, who believe we are so much smarter, like to believe we live by using our intelligence. As one scientist and author once said, If any aliens (life forms, or alien people, if you will, from another planet or galaxy) came to Earth looking for intelligent life, they would be very disappointed.
Sometimes I wonder, if maybe, the animals should be in charge of the planet. I think they would do a much better job of taking good care of it, as well as, protecting it from insane creatures, such as ourselves.
But, to get back to the original problem, I guess I better go see about cleaning up some bird poop. I don't hold it against Eddie. He is wonderful company, and also a very entertaining little guy, upon occasion. I think that's worth a little cleaning up after, now and then. In the next life, if he is taking care of me, I would hope he wouln't mind doing a little cleaning up of my little messes. I think it would be only fair.

Someone's Spirit Is Someone Else's Ghost

When I was in college, I heard about a haunted mansion in the town I was in. Being young and full of bottomless curiousity, among other things, on a wintery Sunday afternoon, I talked my girlfriend and two roomates into going to investigate. Peter, my friend, as well as roomate, was much like me, and definitely excited to play ghost hunter. Michele, my girlfriend, really did not have any desire to go in the least, but came along, anyway. Jeff, my other roomate came along, but as it turned out was too scared to enter the house.
Anyway, moving the story along, it was an old mansion, and hadn't been lived in for awhile. The surviving family, however, was having renovations done, with the intent of living in it again. At that time, the windows and doors were boarded up. Being the foolish, and somewhat reckless youths that we were, Peter and I pried the plywood off of a side door, and entered the house along with the reluctant Michele, who when not protesting, was trying to pull me back by tugging on my hand.
I remember it being very dark inside. The only light we had was a flashlight. We went through most of first floor, except for the very front of the house, and then made our way upstairs. Peter entered every room, while Michele held me back by refusing to let go of my hand, although I would stand in the doorway of each room as Peter looked inside. Until, we reached a particular doorway on the second floor. I didn't have any idea why at the time, but I stopped several feet from the doorway, and Peter did not cross the threshold. It was like we were being pushed back. It was right at that moment that Michele, stopped tugging on my hand, and later said that was when she stopped being anxious about being there.
Later, back at the apartment that I shared with Peter and Jeff, Michele and I were having tea in the kitchen, and we started talking about our experience in the mansion. We both ended up describing a tall, dark haired man we both had seen in our mind's eye, standing in that doorway in dark riding clothes, and holding a riding crop (used to sometimes whip as well as control horses). But the message he conveyed was different for each of us. In my mind's eye he appeared as threatening, as if to say, leave, you don't belong here. But for Michele, he had a calming effect. She stopped being afraid, like he was telling her, it's alright, don't worry.
And, yes, we did confirm more or less, that he was the late owner of the house. We had a friend who grew up in that town, and knew the family. He recognized our description of this revenant (ghost) as being the former owner of the mansion. 
Unlike some of the tall tales I have told here, this one happens to be a true story. And actually, one that is a happy memory for me, because of that time of my life, and the company I was fortunate to have.     

A Stare Is Not Necessarily A Glare

Back when I first left the Foreign Legion in North Africa, I spent some time wandering around some of the more picturesque (scenic) places, while at the same time avoiding any war zones. At one point I was traveling by jeep through a desert landscape (the surrounding area was desert, in other words), when I came across a small and strange looking man. He looked Arabic, but with his dark hair and skin, he could have been Spanish, Italian, or even Greek. Heck, for all I know, he could have been a Bushman.
Anyway, or anyhow if you prefer, he happened to be beating a horse that appeared to be dead. I stopped the jeep, and asked him what he was doing. Without even pausing in his assault upon what was, indeed, a dead horse, he just glared (a menacing stare) at me for a few moments, and then continued to give the horse his full attention. Feeling that it wasn't really any of my business, I continued on my way.
After having a wonderful dinner in an outdoor cafe, in a beautiful North African coastal town, I was returning back to the east, from where I had come. On the way back, driving through the desert, I saw that same strange man with the dead horse, again. Only this time, it looked like he had been cooking it over a fire, and was busy eating it. I stopped, and might have said something, however, before I could even get my mouth open, he started glaring at me again. I didn't really appreciate his attitude toward me, and I did feel slightly threatened. So, I just drove away.
I have, of course, heard the expression about beating a dead horse. Meaning, to continue on with something long past the point it can do any good, or accomplish anything of value. But I've never heard of eating the dead horse, after you beat it. I suppose that's one way of getting rid of the evidence. As the French say, c'est la vie (that's life). Except, of course, for the horse, who was no longer living. 

Cougars (Wildcats) Making a Comeback

There is a bit of an argument going on between some supposed wildlife (animal) experts, and some Connecticut residents about whether or not there is a cougar population living in the wilds of Connecticut. It has actually been going on for some time now, with a number of state residents claiming they have had sightings of these wildcats over a good number of years. The (supposed) experts claim these sightings have been of anything but cougars, and that the cougar population in Connecticut has long been extinct, and is still extinct.
The controversy has flared up (re-ignited, or found new life) recently, when a cougar was hit and killed crossing a highway in the southwestern corner of the state. The "experts" say that someone must have been keeping it as a pet, and somehow it escaped. And so the argument goes on. Well, I have found the entire rigamarole (confused, or senseless talk) quite interesting over the course of time. Today, however, I was not only made to take it seriously, but also personally.
I was jogging on a dirt track by the river, as I try to do most days, when I spotted a large (about 6 feet long) wildcat walking across the field. It was probably a good 50 yards away from me, but I tried to do what they (the supposed experts) say you should do, which is maintain eye contact, and slowly back away. While I was doing this, the cougar let out a loud scream (it's a very scary sound), and then slowly walked off. When I was sure it was out of sight, I hastily (very, very hastily) flew home, all the while looking over my shoulder. Just to make sure it didn't follow me, instead of going right to my apartment, I got into my car and drove around for a half hour or so. Then, when I was sure I wasn't being followed, I went home. But I'm still keeping an eye out, and checking the windows on a regular basis, just in case.
So, remember to be careful out there. There's also rumored to be, a dangerous rogue elephant somewhere around here, too. I've seen a lot of strange things haunting the woods of New England. And whatever you do, don't get too close to the river. If I told you what I've seen in there, you would definitely think I was crazy as a bedbug.  

Traveling Requires A Roomy Heart

A few years ago, I was crossing the desert somewhere in Death Valley, when my jeep (a 4 wheel drive open vehicle) gave up the ghost (an expression that means: it died). So I took what water and food I had, and set out on foot. I knew it would take me at least 3 or 4 days to get back to anything resembling (looking like) civilization. So, using my small pup-tent, I slept through the rest of the day, and traveled at night, when it was much cooler. Doing that took less physical exertion (effort), and I was able to stretch what water I had. Even so, after 2 nights of traveling I was running out of water, and had already exhausted (used up) what little food I had.
Just as the sun was coming up, I happened upon an Asian man sitting by a campfire, eating what looked like a large lizard, which he must have cooked over his fire. He offered me some of the lizard, and of course, I accepted. It tasted just like chicken, but the best darn chicken I had ever had. I asked him what he was doing out in the middle of nowhere, and he said, "I'm on vacation," with what sounded like a bit of a Chinese accent. Taking a stab (a guess) at it, I asked him why he hadn't gone back to visit the mother country. He said, "China is in my heart, no matter where I am. I never travel without Her."
He got me to thinking, and I realized I was carrying all my family and friends, all the people I love, in my own heart, on my journey. They are a part of me, it seems, that I can't leave behind. So, I suppose loneliness won't be much of an issue (problem). But it must be getting crowded in that heart of mine. I might have to be careful about how many more hitchhikers my heart picks up along the way. Or maybe, I'll just have to see if I can grow my heart a bit bigger.
Anyway, since I'm writing this, you can assume I survived my time in Death Valley. I think on my next vacation I'll see about crossing the Pacific on a raft. I know, it's been done before. But not by me. 
That's it for now. Eddie (Edgar) keeps interrupting me for head-rubs. It's pretty hard to type while you're giving a head-rub. With your nose. 

Observing With the Inner Eye

There are times in the midst (surrounded by) of life, when I like to stand back and observe all that is going on around me. Most of our time is spent dealing with what is right in front of us, whether it is good or bad, tedious or carefree, pleasurable or painful. Because we are usually caught up in all these "little" moments, we don't get a lot of chances to really see the "big picture," as they say. And, what "they" mean by big picture, is probably not the same as what I'm blogging about. And who is this "they" that everyone talks about? I don't know, and I don't really care. Plus, they have nothing to do with any of this, anyway.
I was at a wedding Friday, and although there were a number of people there that I knew, I found myself at certain times during the course of the afternoon, to be detached from the festivities going on around me. During those brief flashes of the "big picture", I felt myself on the edge of understanding something extraordinary about human existence. But then, once again, I would become caught up in all the activity going on, and would be pulled out of my transcendent (that one you should look up) view, and fall back into the enjoyment of those small pleasurable moments, that I hope we all have many of over the course of our lives.
Anyway, I would love to have something deep and meaningful to say about all this, but I really don't. I believe we are here to experience all of life, and that includes weddings, as well as funerals. It is a wonderful thing to be able to observe human behavior in all it's complexities, but in the end, it's not about what we observe in life. It's about what we do. 
And so, whatever you do, do it well. And if at all possible, enjoy the hell out of it.  

No Conversation Group Friday June 10th

A quick word for my English learning friends who haven't heard: I will not be in the Library tomorrow, Friday June 10th. I will be at my Niece's wedding, so I will, hopefully, see you next week. Be well, and stay out of trouble!

A Story For Every Occasion

It's important to have a good and believable story for every occasion. You just never know when you'll need one. For instance, the other day I was buying some Haagen Daas (not sure about the spelling) ice cream, when I ran into (not literally, of course) my Mother. She told me that I shouldn't be eating any Haagen Daas, or any other ice cream for that matter, unless I wanted to become fatter than I already am. Thinking fast on my feet (another expression), I told her I had fallen in love with Lina. For those of you who don't know, Lina is a Chinese woman who just won the French Open Tennis Tournament. The first Asian to ever win the French Open. And she received something like two million dollars in endorsements (companies pay her to use their products). One of these endorsements is, guess what, Haagen Daas. So by eating Haagen Daas ice cream I am expressing my love for Lina. I thought that was a pretty darn good story to come up with, off the top of my head (and, yet, another expression; means I made it up on the spot). But, my Mother didn't buy it.
Stories are a way of making sense of our lives, and of life in general. If you believe that everything happens randomly, without rhyme or reason (sorry, another expression; basically means, seemingly completely pointless and without any real meaning), then everything can seem quite without purpose of any kind. I believe everything happens for a reason, even if sometimes we can't understand what the reason could possibly be. Stories, for me, are a way of making sense, upon occasion, of events that seem to make no sense. They are also great entertainment, a great way to teach, or learn, and for me, they not only make life bearable, but make it highly enjoyable.
So, remember, keep a few good stories in mind at all times. You just never know when you're going to need one. Ciao.    

Magic Made Easy

I think everyone would prefer that the difficult, as well as complicated, tasks and chores we face every day, were made easier and simpler to accomplish. Instead, it seems, without outside help, we make these tasks that we believe to be exceedingly hard to do, actually become hard to do. It's all in our heads (mind). There's the old proverb (saying), Be careful of what you wish for, you just might get it. And that works for beliefs as well as wishes. If we don't believe we are able to do something, we aren't. It's that simple.
Our minds are capable of performing magic. All it takes is belief. So, let's say you want to learn English, or even Mandarin, for that matter. Does it seem almost impossible? Oh, yeah. But it's not. All you, or I, have to do is believe we can, and hocus pocus! Presto! We can. Of course, we do have to put in the time to accomplish this, but because we believe we can do it, we have made it easier. We can achieve the impossible, if we believe we can.
So, life being short, and all, why make anything more difficult than it has to be. Make it as simple and easy as possible. Be a magician. Believe. That's what I'm working on. In case you don't realize it, I'm writing this more for me than anyone else. There are many occasions when I allow myself to become overwhelmed by all I have to do, and all I want to do. That's when I tend to make life more difficult for myself, and sometimes for those around me. So, I am trying to change my thinking. I want to do some positively, amazingly magnificent magic. And that's just for starters. Life IS short. Make the most of it. Grab the bull by the horns (an expression, similar to Seize the Day), and see what you can do. That's my plan. Who knows? Maybe after Edgar and I are living on our own island, you can come and visit. Hope to see you there.  

My Mighty Mind Is As A Finely Honed Weapon

There is an old expression (idiom) that goes something like, "he's sharp as a tack" (a short needle with a broad head for pinning paper or posters to a wall or bulletin board). Meaning that this person's mind is very intelligent, and quick.

Back when I was a secret agent behind the "Iron Curtain" during the Cold War (yes, I was a very young secret agent posing as an elementary school exchange student), I had to use my quick wits to keep from being discovered, as well as to stay alive. It was a dangerous business. I can't begin to count the times I prevented war from breaking out between the USSR and the US.

Unfortunately, none of those incidents, or even my name, for that matter, will ever be in a history book. Such is the life of a spy who risks his life for his country. And, of course, for world peace.

When I finally was captured, my government had to deny any knowledge of my existence, which was expected, on my part. I was, however, extremely lucky that before my execution could take place, I was able to escape, with the help of a beautiful Russian princess, who found my impetuous youth both charming, and irresistible. Ah, Sevlonka, where are you now? I never saw her again. Such is the way of romance. Sigh...

I Gotta' Really Big Headache

So, I'm trying to be good, and study my Mandarin. But in common terms, I'm getting my butt kicked. Big time. I just spent about an hour going over the same small part of what they call a "core lesson" on Rosetta Stone, the computer program for learning new languages. A core lesson is about a half hour of new material (Mandarin I haven't learned, yet). This particular lesson is about the names for house, window, living room, kitchen, bathroom, sink, toilet, as well as little words, like in and on. Of course, they don't just simply give you the words. They use them as you would in conversation, so you get them in sentences. No English, thank you. You have to figure it all out yourself.
Another problem for me, is word order. A sentence in Chinese is not structured the way it is in English. This sometimes makes the problem of understanding the meaning of a sentence into a puzzle. The end result is, I begin to feel mentally inferior. Or, to put it simply, I feel like a complete moron.
The other complication for me is this: There are many sections where you listen to the sentence (sometimes very long sentences), and then speak them yourself. The difficulty for me is I can't concentrate on both the pronunciation AND the meaning. So I have to keep going back and re-doing these lovely speaking sections until I can get a grasp of both.
The end result? I got a headache.
But, I most definitely must take my hat off (give credit and respect) to all those who have come to a new country, and devoted themselves to learning that most difficult of languages to learn. English. I imagine my headache is very minor (small) in comparison.

A Dark and Gloomy Spring...

Here in my neck of the woods (my locality), the world may not have ended, but it does appear to be a particularly depressing period for this time of year. As many of you may know, some weird, old guy (I think he's supposed to be 89 years old, although he looks like he could be about 120) predicted the world would end somewhere around 6 pm last Saturday. There was supposed to be a worldwide earthquake stronger than any previously known in history. After that, would come the return of Jesus Christ, and then the Rapture. The Rapture, for those of you who don't know, is when all the righteous (believers without sin) Christians are taken directly into heaven without the necessity of dying. Everyone left behind, all the sinners and heathens, would be required to live through hell on earth until time ended, which this gentleman said would be in November, I believe. 'Til then, there would be fire, flood, volcanoes erupting, people killing and eating each other, animals wearing clothes (I made that part up). Well, you name it. As someone in a movie once said about a different place, "the worst environment imaginable".
But, as it turns out, the supposedly psychic old dude (guy, man, whatever) was wrong. At least this time. And it turns out, this was the second time he was wrong. He predicted the same thing somewhere back in the 1990's.
Anyway (anyhow, anywho), it would seem we will have to continue to live through this dark, dank, murky, and very, very wet spring. At least for the time being.
But if you have a prayer in your heart, don't waste it on our weather. Give it to all those unfortunate people in Missouri and Minnesota who were in harms way. Both the living, whose lives, at least for the time being, have become hell. And the dead, for whom the world really did come to an end. And we who have not been touched, at least this time, can understand how insignificant our dreary weather really happens to be.

What's With the Jungle Out There?

I know we seem to have been having a lot of precipitation (rain) lately, but I didn't realize how much. When I awoke this morning, I went out for a jog. Lo and behold (stop and look; amazing sight), instead of the usual grass covered back yard, there was a great and tangled jungle. I knew it hadn't been there when I went to bed.
I tried to fight my way through it, in order to get to the street. It was very slow going. And there no longer was a street. Just more jungle. I heard a scream, and fought my way towards it, but I was too slow. I just managed to catch a glimpse of what must have been one of my neighbors being carried off by what looked like a dozen or so monkeys of some kind.
I heard someone else yelling, and headed in that direction through all the brush, vines and tree branches, as well as a lot of foliage of a type that I had never seen before. As I made my way in the direction I thought the yelling had come from, I heard all kinds of loud and strange sounds. Some I believe were birds, some type of monkeys, and only God knows what those other sounds were.
I didn't find the person who was yelling, but I did find an abandoned pizza delivery vehicle. It was completely surrounded by dense jungle. Impossibly, as if the jungle grew up all around the car. But luckily, it still had several pizzas in it. I grabbed what I could, and did my best to backtrack (follow the path I had left back to my door) myself home.
Unfortunately, I lost all but a couple of the pizzas when I heard what sounded like a big cat (tiger, lion, or maybe a leopard). In the subsequent (following) panicked crashing through this new sprung jungle, I was lucky to hang on to anything at all.
So, now I am holed up (hiding out) in my living room. Hopefully, some help will come along fairly soon. A lot of it.
I am considering moving to a large desert type area. As soon as I can safely get out of here.

Some Days Are Tougher Than Others

Some days you pay a higher price to get to the end. Today, for me, was one of those days. Oh, it wasn't a terrible day, just a bit of a hard one. A long, full day, yesterday, set me up for a really bad night's sleep. My auto-immune system disease works that way a lot of the time. When I really have an energetic day, and get a lot done, instead of helping me to sleep well that night, it does the opposite and makes it difficult to get much sleep at all. But it's not a tragedy. It's just a day when I'm not able to get much of anything done, no matter how much I would like to. And, it is difficult to feel good about anything, at the moment.
The sad aspect of the day, is that it was my brother Jeff's birthday. He died unexpectedly on January 16, 2005. I think about him most days. Probably every day. And I do have many happy memories of him. But I won't ever get over missing him. And especially today, on his birthday. On a day like today, being tired, feeling sad, and remembering the life, and the death, of my brother, I find it very difficult to find something to be happy about.
So, I will look forward to tomorrow, when I will look at the world with rested eyes, and a lighter heart.

Hallooo! Is Anybody Out There??

So when is it that you live with someone for a sufficient period of time to become familiar enough to be, well, less formal. Are there rules about that kind of thing?
Anyway, I came to the realization that after living with Edgar for more than 3 years now, it's just a bit too formal to keep calling him Edgar. So, I am trying to get both he and I used to me calling him Eddie. Of course, to you who don't know him, he will still be King Edgar. But to those of you who have made his acquaintance, as long as he likes you, you may call him King Eddie.
I, personally, believe that I have earned the priviledge to simply call him Eddie. After all, I do submit to all his demands for head-rubs, the changing of his food and water, as well as clean his cage, and allow him to ride on my shoulder, arm and hand all around the apartment. I think that should give me some right to familiarity.
But never fear, for those of you who meet him in person, whether it's for the first time or not, there is no need to bow before him. Just make sure to show the proper amount of respect. And if you think calling him King Edgar or King Eddie is just too much, you may call him Your Majesty. At least in his presence.

Time Must Stop! (For a Little While...)

I have been searching online, particularly on ebay, for a device to stop time. There was an old Twilight Zone episode from tv, about a man who acquired (I don't remember if it was given to him, or he found it) an old pocket watch that could stop time. When he pressed on the stem on the top of the watch, time would stop until he pressed it again and it would restart. And he was the only one, while time was stopped, who was not frozen in time, because he held the watch.
That's what I'm looking for. Something that can do that. If I had it, well, whenever I got behind on my cleaning, or wanted to catch up on some of my reading, I could just stop time for a couple or three days, get caught up on my personal stuff, and then bahdda-bing, start time back up. Man, would that come in handy.
Of course, the Twilight Zone episode didn't end well. While time was stopped, the man dropped and broke the watch. So, the poor guy had to spend eternity all alone, because everyone else was frozen. And because time was stopped, he would not get any older, or die. Being alone for eternity would be enough to drive anyone crazy. Probably in a short time.
So I guess I need a device to stop, and of course, restart time, that is unbreakable. Let me know if you find anything like that. I'd appreciate it.

A Good Story Is Worth A Thousand Pictures

Stories are my life. I love a good story, be it told by mouth, a good book, or a movie. Without the creation of stories, or the ability to take the mundane events of our lives and turn them into an interesting story, life would be worse than boring to me. It would be hell. So, to all the creative writers and storytellers out there, most blessed thanks to you a thousand fold.
Today is a pretty darn good day. I had lunch, dim sum (not sure on the spelling), with friends. After which I ran errands, and went to one of my favorite bookstores. Now, I get to watch Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows Part 1, while I hang out with Edgar. Wow. What a wonderful day.
Plus, there is a possiblity (only a possiblity at this time) that some good friends of mine might be moving back to this area. I am not going to bet on it, but it would be a very nice thing indeed, if they did.
That's all I got at the moment, folks. I'll be back to comment on life, the universe, and everything, at a later time.
Be good, stay out of trouble.

Every Road Has Its Bumps

I am extremely fortunate at this point in my life. There have been very few unpleasant people I have had to deal with more than once in the last half a dozen years or so. Only two come to mind.
Back when I worked in the corporate world, it was a daily occurence to be dealing with the kind of people you would not wish to spend one second of time more in their company than was absolutely necessary. And so, I say, I am very lucky. And for anyone reading this, don't worry. The only person who darkens my world does not read this, nor would he/she care to.
Life is far too short to waste time on unpleasantries.
Moving on, for those blog followers who go to Otis Library for ESOL coversation group on Friday, the Library will be closed. So if you are not there tomorrow (Thursday), I hope I will see you next week.
Anyway, it is not the bumps in the road that are important, but how we handle them. I don't always handle them well. Oh, I don't do a terrible job. I just have a bit of a temper. And when I get angry, things sometimes come out of mouth that surprise me. Sometimes they surprise everyone present. But many times, they make great stories to share later with those who know me well, and love to laugh.
Life is too short to take ourselves seriously. It is the human comedy. So, laugh my friends. Laughter is the key to enjoying life. If you have nothing to laugh about, find something. Or, make something up. And share it with a friend.

Wipe-Out

Wipe-Out is the title of an old instrumental (guitars and drums mostly) rock'n'roll song. There were no lyrics, just someone saying Wipe-Out!, in a high falsetto voice every once in awhile. The term Wipe-out came from surfing (standing up on a fiberglass board while riding big waves in the ocean). When someone was knocked off there board by the wave, or fell off, it was called a wipe-out. We also use the expression wiped-out to mean we are physically and mentally exhausted, which is what happened to me by Sunday morning. As a few of you may know, my apartment has books everywhere. Literally. I'm not kidding. So, last week, starting on Wednesday afternoon, besides keeping my usual schedule, I started boxing up books to take to my favorite used bookstore in Providence, Rhode Island, Cellar Stories. By Friday night I had eleven boxes of books. Unbelievable. And these were just the books I either no longer was interested in reading, or I knew I would never re-read, and also would be too much work to sell on ebay for the value I would get for them. Anyway, Saturday morning I loaded up the car, and drove them down to Providence. Luckily, Mike, who owns Cellar Stories, was able to loan me a few of his employees to help unload the car. Which my poor back and shoulders greatly appreciated. And then, of course, I spent some time wandering around that wonderful bookstore, and bought some more books. After all, it was Cellar Stories annual Spring Sale. The sad part is, those eleven boxes of books barely put a dent in all the books I have. I'm going to need a couple of hundred more years if I plan on reading everything I have. Sad, but true. I just love books. Maybe too much. After all that, I spent the rest of Saturday and all of Sunday laying on the couch moaning and groaning. But I got no sympathy from Edgar, who still insisted on getting his head rubbed as often as possible. I'm almost recovered now. I did go out jogging this morning, and went to the Post Office and the grocery store. And now, I am going back to a reclining position on the couch, and plan on only moving for an emergency. And it better be a really big emergency. Enjoy, my friends!

I Lost My Funny

I was talking to my sister last weekend when she made a comment about my state of mind, which made me realize how morose (bleak, gloomy, sad) I sounded. It was then that I discovered I had lost my funny. I could not remember where I left it. And I was sorely missing it. Without my funny, all my stories became sad and boring. Worse than that, for me all of life appeared to be tragic and pointless. And then, moving on to the worst thing about it: everyone that I talked to would start crying by the time I was done. I was spreading misery all around me. People were beginning to avoid me, some of them running away as soon as they saw me. Even Edgar was ignoring me, and refused to come out of his cage. I looked all over my apartment, in the bureau, in the cupboards, in the bathtub, in the refridgerator, under the bed, even in the medicine cabinet. Then I tried to think of all the places I might have left it. I went to the grocery store, the pharmacy, the gas station, the post office, and even the bookstore. My funny was nowhere to be found. So I did what any sensible person would do, I went to bed, and after laying there feeling like the world was coming to an end, I finally fell asleep. And you know where I found my funny when I woke up? Under my pillow. It's always the last place you look.

Who Am I?

The title was actually a title of a Jackie Chan film. In the movie, he had amnesia (loss of memory), and didn't remember who he was. As most Jackie Chan movies go, it was entertaining, but not a deep film. I believe I have been on a lifetime journey (so far) to discover who I am. So far, I have found a path to blunder along on, but I have no idea where it will take me. But wherever it goes, I imagine I won't get to the end in my lifetime. And that's probably a good thing. It means I will always have somewwhere to go. As someone once said, it's not the destination that matters, it's the journey. And I can say, it's been quite a journey. I have met many people along the way, as well as seeing many strange, beautiful, and not so beautiful places. Of course, I have learned a little about myself. Some good, some bad, and some I don't know what to make of. Actually, there's a lot of that last category. But without the people I have met and known along the way, my feeling is, that my journey would be pointless. Even though all human experience is dependent upon the individual, and is a very personal thing, we are all connected, regardless of what we believe. And thank God, the Universe, or whatever the h#*! you please, for that. Left completely on my own, I would find my life's journey mind numbingly dull. Besides other people being more interesting, maybe it is through other people, our friends, our family, and even perfect strangers, that we learn about ourselves. Just a thought. So...Who are you?

Looks Like A Friday At Home With Edgar

Well, it appears that I will not be at the Library on Friday. I am not in any pain, but my body's fight against this upper-respiratory infection is draining all my energy. So my new plan is to stay home and rest for the next few days.
I am sorry that I will miss everyone for the rest of the week, but I suppose it's better to let my body rest and recover. So, until next week, take care, and stay out of trouble!