A funny thing happened just after I left the sushi restaurant where we celebrated @'s birthday. First there was an odd sound, just over my left shoulder. And then someone yelled from a car in the parking lot. I initially thought the driver had thrown something from the car, but his reaction made it clear that he had just seen something strange.
I looked to see what had landed behind me. A wingless pigeon. They don't fly very well. And their connection with concrete delivers an odd thwack-splat sound. What in the heck?
To my right, atop the light pole in the middle of the Lucky's parking: a hawk. Watching the pigeon, like, well, a hawk.
A blog from the twisty turny musings of a writer, wanderer, parent. I find humor in strange corners of the world.
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Hawk Droppings
Labels:
family,
kidlet,
March of Dimes,
nature,
parenting,
speechless
Monday, November 18, 2013
Dylan's Gates
My dad has a plain ol' farm gate at the end of his driveway. It's the gate that comes right after the END OF ROAD sign. It's the gate that has a NO TRESPASSING sign on one post and PRIVATE PROPERTY painted boldly on a watering can attached to the other.
It's the gate people drive through and find themselves sitting in front of his garage asking themselves, "what happened to the road?" If I happen to be there, there are also two large dogs barking at them while they attempt to figure out how their sign-blindness or illiteracy allowed them to drive to such lengths.
I find myself in what I have officially labeled my "mid-life craft crisis." Fear not, I am not going to the dark side and diving into the cult of scrap-booking. Exacto knives, stickers, and such don't have the right potential for injury. I'm buying tools. I'm looking into welding classes.
It's the gate people drive through and find themselves sitting in front of his garage asking themselves, "what happened to the road?" If I happen to be there, there are also two large dogs barking at them while they attempt to figure out how their sign-blindness or illiteracy allowed them to drive to such lengths.
I find myself in what I have officially labeled my "mid-life craft crisis." Fear not, I am not going to the dark side and diving into the cult of scrap-booking. Exacto knives, stickers, and such don't have the right potential for injury. I'm buying tools. I'm looking into welding classes.
Labels:
dad,
making stuff
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