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I am scared of squirrels. Irrational I know and I'm annoyed at myself for being afraid of such a cute looking little thing.
I'd
never seen a "real" squirrel until my first day here and when I saw
them I raved over their sweet little faces and bushy twitching tails.
My second day here I met a kamikaze squirrel. Instead of running away from me it ran straight at me and stamping feet and noise did not deter it. It only stopped when I ran away and then, looking over my shoulder, I swear I saw it smile.
This fear is especially pathetic as I come from the land of more than a few of the world's top 10 deadliest snakes, the small Funnel Web Spider and the Blue Ringed Octopus. I have a healthy respect for these but am not particularly terrified of them.
But squirrels... I give way to even if it means walking onto the roadway; I give wide berth to trees where I spot a squirrel and I never stand still in a park!
We don't have any squirrels in our little yard; I suspect because of all the pepper (chili) plants we have around but yesterday I noticed a neighbour is actively encouraging them .... I would never be able to leave the house if this was at my front door!
This little girl was having a feast. Of course this was taken from well back on the sidewalk!
swagman n Austral. and NZ labourer who carries his personal
possessions in a pack (swag) while looking for work.
Occasionally when you look into somebody's face you know that they have an interesting life story to tell.
When you come face to weatherbeaten face with Campbell the Swaggie you see an encyclopaedia of Australian folklore.
During the 1930's depression in Australia, swagmen were a common sight. Men forced by economic circumstance to walk the back roads in search of work.
Today there is just Campbell and perhaps one other remaining, both of whom do it as a lifestyle choice.
Campbell is a consummate poet, storyteller and busker.
With a majestic voice reciting from a repertoire of more than 200 Australian poems and prose, and accompanied by an entertaining acting performance, he is a national treasure.
Reputedly the son of a Maori princess and a Scottish father, Campbell has, for the last 23 years been perfecting his craft by performing at folk festivals and country shows all around Australia.
All of his possessions in life are wrapped up in a single canvas swag.
Irving Campbell: busker, poet, writer, swaggie, entertainer,
unforgettable Antipodean character.
Some ancient cycads with a new flush of fronds following the bushfires.
When it takes one hour to defeat your soon-to-be-six year old in chess, it means (a) you suck at chess or (b) the kid is good.
Maternal vanity makes me choose (b).
I am 1/5th the way through! More than 20%! I passed today's NaNo catch-up goal (10,000 words) with over an hour to spare, and surpassed it (10,578) with half an hour to spare. I'll catch up tomorrow for sure! I'm only stopping now because my MC is going to bed, too, so it seemed like a good spot.
In the story today: Apparently my MC has a revered ancestor named Quinlin Hart and her mother was having a bit of a salamander problem - the magic kind that are made of fire. It lost its tail, but it'll grow back....
...Don't know when my main plot will kick in. Not that I know what that is yet. Maybe tomorrow it will reveal itself. She's gonna catch some unsettling gossip about herself. And there's someone new in town. Now if only I knew what that gossip was...
I believe when people die, that their spirit is absorbed into the universe, just as god intended*. My mom, my best friend, my grand dad....
On a nightly basis, (usually when I take the dogs out) I look up at the sky, see all of those stars and realize that the number of familiar spirits is increasing. It makes me sad, but it also makes me incredibly curious.
I say hello to them all, say a little prayer and wonder what it's like for them out there....
(*not really the catholic way, but consider this yet another example of why I am not a good catholic.)
It's so tiny..and green!
O hai, this is Keisha. Welcome to mah blog. :)
Yesterday I was sittin on Dad's bed, and somefin happened. I got up and went to jump to the floor, but when I landed, my paw went ouch-ouch-ouch. Yipes! :( Mom and Dad got really scaired. Mom made an appointment for me to see the v-e-t later today. When D.R. came home from werk, she hugged me and petted me a lot. I felt a little better.
There were a lot of people walkin their dogs today. I knoes dat because a lot of dem went past our house. I barked a little, to say hi. It was fun when Mom decided to watch some teevee. I like the noises on some of the shows. They have trucks and splosions an' stuff. Also, she said she was keepin an eye on me until it was time to go see the dokter. :)
Don' wurries about me, I gonna be okay. Thank u. I see u later. :)
Me and Mr. Hedj-hog playin Tackle. I winned. :)
We have finished Le Grande Coq and moved onto a Cockfighter's Ghost...is anyone sensing a theme here? Besides drinking and happy dancing in celebration that is. Language is no barrier.
