1) The little Asian lady next to me on the bus pulled out the nastiest smelling pastry I’ve every sniffed up my nostrils. It reeked so bad someone nearby commented, “Man, it smells like natural gas in here! Open up a window!”
2) UPS man at the Beautiful Dance Store and I typically exchange few words. Yesterday he regarded me for a split second and said, “You have dimples.” I felt like I was five again, when my dimples were cute and little girl and my redeeming feature. As an adult, getting complimented on the dents in your cheeks is just weird.
3) My cat, Hobbes, has decided she loves Simon & Garfunkle. She sits pleasantly next to my battered cd player and squints lovingly while listening. This is important because I too have discovered a love for them as well, late in life, when I’m too old to blame it on some weird phase I went through in high school.
4) The sky has been crapping and pissing all week…I know that real Seattleites are far over the fact the weather sucks, and only newly transplanted natives complain, but man, where the hell is spring?
All of this is peanuts compared to the showdown that happened today:
5) The BIG Event that occurred was while I was heating up mini-tacos. Hobbes strolled in from outside and into the kitchen with the loudest, muffled, meow I’ve ever heard. Inside her mouth was a dead bird. I tried to keep cool. Ok, she’s a cat, this is what cats do they hunt…and she’s brought her kill into the home with the intent of…what, eating it? Before I knew it Hobbes had found a nice spot in the hallway and proceeded to DECAPITATE and DISMEMBER the dead bird. When I peeked around the corner I saw a tiny bird head and a whole bunch of bloody red guts on the carpet. My cat was hunched over, gnawing away. By this point I had already called Josh, interrupting a business meeting he was having at work by screaming into his speaker phone: “BABE! There’s a dead bird!” His advice? “Dear God, get the camera! Take pictures!” I rejected this advice because the camera was in the spare room and in the path of my carnivorous cat’s chow down. I called my Mom who laughed at me and than did a superb job in talking me through what to do next. I grabbed a broom, hid behind a corner, reached around and batted my cat away from the carcass. She was very resistant to leaving the bird, and it took several tries before I successfully chased her out of the hallway into my room–where I locked her in. My Mother was adamant I needed to get the dead bird out of the house because of bacteria, etc. So I took a really deep breath and assessed the damage: Bird head, Bird torso with guts spilling out, feathers….ok. I really freaked out. I threw a whole bunch of paper towels over the carnage and with a broom, dragged the pile into a dust pan and into a plastic bag. I tossed the bag in the garbage outside. Wow, I really felt I deserved a prize. Than I sat down to a plate of mini-tacos…and at them very slowly and gingerly. (See, the thing was, I was STARVING….but queasy). As I write this I really wish I had taken pictures.