A little used church on Buck Mountain
Getting old? Let me tell you about getting old. Friday I drove the few miles for my shot, and I had to walk all the way across the parking lot and take the lift to the second floor where my doc's office is located. As soon as I walked into the small waiting room, I remembered I had forgotten to bring my medicine for the injection. I told the nurse it was in my car and I would be right back. I then limped my way out and back across the parking lot, but as soon as I got into the car, I also remembered that I hadn't even brought the medicine from the house to the car. Beginning to get pretty pissed at myself, I drove back home, hobbled into the house, retrieved the prescribed vials, and drove back to the docs office where I again had to do some hoofing. Meanwhile, the nurses were thinking I went only to the car for the medicine and became alarmed, feeling I had fallen in the stairwell or parking lot, so one of them went looking for me; Pam pretty well combed the lot and both stairwells before giving up. After I found out that they went to a bunch of trouble for me, I shamefacedly apologized, and we had a good-hearted laugh. Truthfully, stuff like that worries me. Getting old is one matter, but becoming senile frightens hell out of me because of the burden I may get to be, and I damn sure do not want to be stuck in an old folks home, even if I have become too far gone to know where I am.
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Yesterday my sore hands and wrists finally felt like I could catch up on the three emails I received during the latter part of the week, and last evening I watched the Vols beat Memphis in a politically created ball game. I tried to watch some news, but CNN was at their usual best of creating and reporting no-news about the terrible killings at Fort Hood, Texas Army base. The situation is bad enough without them incessantly pounding useless "facts" through our eyes and ears. It is no wonder Americans are becoming blasé with news entertainment. I suppose it is why we are turning more-and-more to "reality" tv shows to catch an hour or so of stuff we can relate to at least a little bit.
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Here is a list of a few of the names I've bestowed upon my squirrels over the years: Mama, Fuzzy Britches, Fatty Squirrelbuckle (from silent film comedian, Fatty Arbuckle), Squirrel S Buck (from famous author, Pearl S Buck), Ol' Scratch, Fatty, Little One, Little Bit, Elwood—and of course—Jake (The Blues Brothers, but in my case, Jake was a girl), Junior, Shorty, Red Neck, Sam I Am, Algernon, Willie, Festus, Sweet Granny Fats, Patootie, and many more. All of those little people have gone on to the big beech tree in the sky; I miss them. I no longer name the new-comers; I just enjoy their little lives and squirrely antics. Much better than reality tv, fer shur.
The Smoking Gun's Mug Shots of the Week!
Getting old? Let me tell you about getting old. Friday I drove the few miles for my shot, and I had to walk all the way across the parking lot and take the lift to the second floor where my doc's office is located. As soon as I walked into the small waiting room, I remembered I had forgotten to bring my medicine for the injection. I told the nurse it was in my car and I would be right back. I then limped my way out and back across the parking lot, but as soon as I got into the car, I also remembered that I hadn't even brought the medicine from the house to the car. Beginning to get pretty pissed at myself, I drove back home, hobbled into the house, retrieved the prescribed vials, and drove back to the docs office where I again had to do some hoofing. Meanwhile, the nurses were thinking I went only to the car for the medicine and became alarmed, feeling I had fallen in the stairwell or parking lot, so one of them went looking for me; Pam pretty well combed the lot and both stairwells before giving up. After I found out that they went to a bunch of trouble for me, I shamefacedly apologized, and we had a good-hearted laugh. Truthfully, stuff like that worries me. Getting old is one matter, but becoming senile frightens hell out of me because of the burden I may get to be, and I damn sure do not want to be stuck in an old folks home, even if I have become too far gone to know where I am.
----
Yesterday my sore hands and wrists finally felt like I could catch up on the three emails I received during the latter part of the week, and last evening I watched the Vols beat Memphis in a politically created ball game. I tried to watch some news, but CNN was at their usual best of creating and reporting no-news about the terrible killings at Fort Hood, Texas Army base. The situation is bad enough without them incessantly pounding useless "facts" through our eyes and ears. It is no wonder Americans are becoming blasé with news entertainment. I suppose it is why we are turning more-and-more to "reality" tv shows to catch an hour or so of stuff we can relate to at least a little bit.
----
Here is a list of a few of the names I've bestowed upon my squirrels over the years: Mama, Fuzzy Britches, Fatty Squirrelbuckle (from silent film comedian, Fatty Arbuckle), Squirrel S Buck (from famous author, Pearl S Buck), Ol' Scratch, Fatty, Little One, Little Bit, Elwood—and of course—Jake (The Blues Brothers, but in my case, Jake was a girl), Junior, Shorty, Red Neck, Sam I Am, Algernon, Willie, Festus, Sweet Granny Fats, Patootie, and many more. All of those little people have gone on to the big beech tree in the sky; I miss them. I no longer name the new-comers; I just enjoy their little lives and squirrely antics. Much better than reality tv, fer shur.
The Smoking Gun's Mug Shots of the Week!
6 comments:
Please do not think about such stuff like old folks home. There is no such need today.
I'm so sorry because of these killings at Fort Hood. It's so painful lost. Terrible event. Surreal. Incomprehensive.
The list of the names of the squirrels is wonderful. You call them 'those little people'. It's moving. The squirrels are inhabitants of Łazienki (you know: this old park in Warsaw where I learned how to feed little birds). The squirrels in Łazienki are funny. They sometimes simply stop you while walking along the path and they are waiting for the peanuts. Charming small animals.
Ken, I love a new layout of your blog. It's excellent. Pa, my dear friend. :-)
You are not becoming senile. I suspect that in your case you always have a bunch of thoughts and ideas churning upstairs and are just moving along with your thoughts.
I love Squirrel S. Buck.
I would have worried about you, but only because once I become attached to a spirit, I become a sand-spur probably to the point of annoyance.
I loved the can metaphor. I have to implement that in my walk of life. I usually carry my can around with me and take giant huffs out of it when I really shouldn't.
I only named 1 squirrel (Millie) but loved your names. You can really tell them apart. Now I'm just calling them "bastards" but I know I'll calm down and slip them a few peanuts here and there.
Your prediction was right about the raccoons. Fri evening I noticed a baby raccoon on the back porch, so sweet and pathetic looking. Its 2 other siblings were on the outside of the porch trying to figure how to reconnect with their wayward brother. My son got him out w/ the recycling bin and I shooed them into the wooded-lot next door near my compost pile. They were hungry and frightened. I fed them wet cat food and a large bowl of water which they promptly went for. I think they got seperated from their mamma. My new neighbor 2 doors down has traps out constantly (from new jersey, go figure). I wonder if he trapped their mamma. No wonder I can't stand most people. I hope they will be okay. Mike drew the line when I inquired about bringing them in the house to raise.
happy monday.
The old folks home have become "nursing homes", and I don't want to be in one of those either. :-(
One must really have a great sense of humor to appreciate small animals, especially squirrels. Thanks for sharing your peanuts with "us". :-)
For the blog, I had to find something that doesn't blaspheme my eyes yet is legible for reading and contrasty enough for photos. I hope I have found some balance.
Thanks, Jola. :-)
Thanks, Mark.
I think my upstairs renters moved out. ;-)
Thanks, Tammy.
My contacts and friends never annoy me; I care about everyone's opinions and thoughts, and I enjoy learning about people.
Once you begin naming critters, you become more aware of their individual personalities; and each one is different—usually much different—just like people.
That is very interesting concerning the raccoons; please keep me posted as they completely devastate your life. ;-)
I would have done the same thing, though. We had a momma and 3 babies whom evicted some squirrels from their lofty nest a couple of years ago. They became pests, but we put up with them until they went about their lives elsewhere. Be careful, raccoons are notorious for carrying rabies.
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