Have you ever seen a possum up close, nasty mouth wide open
and growling…or hissing? (I’m not sure how to describe the sound it was making.)
It’s a scary sight I hope I never see again but I suspect I will. Last
night Levi was in his dog pen when he started barking like his world was on
fire and I ran out to see what was going on. Usually it’s just a rabbit on the
other side of the fence but this time I found him barking at a possum he had
cornered and all that separated them was two feet of ground and a couple of
empty flower pots. I tried to grab Levi’s collar but he dodged me and darted around
to my other side and took up the turf war again. Finally---after a lot of
chasing and me worrying that the possum would bite me or the dog---I was able
to latch on to Levi and herd him into the garage. I didn’t know I could move
that fast! The rest of the night Levi begged at least ten times to go
outside only instead of me letting him out the back door to his pen, I hooked
him up on his leash and took him out the front door which, of course, wasn’t what
he wanted. I didn’t dare say “no” because that would be the time he’d actually
have to poop and he’d punish the carpeting for my refusal to let him out.
From scary creatures in nature to gentle creatures. This
week I went to the Butterflies in Bloom Exhibit at the sculpture garden. It’s
the third time I’ve been invited to join my youngest niece, her two daughter-in-law’s
and her four grand babies. One of the babies is five-six months old and I
was surprised she was able to focus on a dozen butterflies at a feeding
station. Her eyes were huge, her tiny mouth formed a perfect “O” and her little
legs were kicking a mile a minute. She was strapped into one of those carriers
on her mom’s belly and it was too bad her mom couldn’t see the baby’s face.
They don’t allow strollers into the tropical conservatory where the butterflies
are and the two with our group were the first two parked in the stroller area.
When we came back out there were easily two dozen. These young moms in my family sure were impressive
as they juggled the needs of babies and toddlers. Diaper
changes and nursing for the babies and potty breaks and healthy snack times for the
toddlers.
From babies to old ladies. Sorry if calling myself and
others in my age bracket “old” offends anyone. Well, actually I’m not sorry but I
have been told by several people that the word “old” is an insult and referring
to myself as old or elderly doesn’t fit a septuagenarian. Ya, sure. Accepting
our ages and the stereotypes that go with whatever age bracket we’re going
through at the time can be ego deflating. But be honest here, many
of those stereotypes are based on facts.
When Don turned 50 he was dreading his birthday and he got on a kick where he’d tell
waitresses that he just turned 60 and he’d ask them if that qualified for a
senior discount. These waitresses knew us as regular customers and they
would reply variations of, “Wow, you sure don’t look your age!” After joking
back and forth Don would admit the truth and we’d all have a good laugh. This
went on for several weeks around his birthday until one day we went to a state
park where the girl taking the money at the entrance didn’t know us. After Don
pulled this fishing-for-compliments routine, the girl looked Don squarely in
the eyes, gave him the senior discount day pass and handed him his change. The
look on his face as we drove away was priceless and that was the very last time
he pulled that joke. (If you think you’ve heard this story before, you did.
Back in 2013 I wrote about it. See, I’m living up to the stereotype of old
people repeating themselves.)
Boy, did I get off track from writing about having brunch
with my Gathering Girls pals at the Guy-Land Cafeteria. I was there by myself a
few days before, early in the morning, and I was reminded of why I coined that
name for the place. I was outnumbered thirty to one. It would be impossible to figure
the ratio of men vs. women at our brunch, though, because we were there 3 ½ hours
(!) while others came and went. (Don’t worry, there were always plenty of tables free. Two of us worry about things like that and about not taking up tables that
are bigger than our needs...while one lady in our group thinks we’re crazy for
caring about stuff like that.) And get this: we ate twice and joked about
staying a few more hours and having dinner, too. In our defense, we had to stay
that long because we got off to a slow, doom-and-gloom start before for we got to
the silly, belly laughter banter that is our signature, get-together mode. All’s well
that ends well. Now, if only I could come up for a name for this blog entry! Can you? ©
