Suburban Zombie Dog-Walking Lady

As the days have become longer and hotter (and humider(?), humidier(?), more humidous(?)) I have moved my morning walk earlier and earlier to stay just ahead of sunrise. I see occasional neighbors up and about, usually a kid or two waiting for a school bus (that's over for now) or adults leaving for work or walking their dogs. I've gotten to know a couple of the dogs (Hey, Gina, hi, Harry!). But there's one I have not been able to introduce myself to.

He's an elderly but still magnificent shepherd who walks the same route almost every morning trailing a short, rotund zombie lady behind him. I can tell she's a zombie because her eyes are beady and unfocused, staring straight ahead into the middle distance. Her head never turns; she acknowledges nothing in their path. She does not deviate from the established route. She does not speak when spoken to. Lately she's appeared with bandages wrapped around one leg. I suspect she might be deteriorating.

At first I thought she might be a normal human but all stuck up and snotty in that stereotypical suburban way but that would've meant she was annoying and obnoxious. Dealing with which is not how I want to start the day. Then I thought maybe she was terrified of everything or pathologically shy which was not merely depressing but pathetic and also an early morning downer to be avoided.

I have therefor concluded she is a zombie attached to the shepherd every morning by its owner and set loose to act as a counterweight to any ambitions the old dog might still entertain. The dog, of course, knows just how far he can go before he has to turn around in order to be home before the sun is fully risen and his zombie can no longer walk. He's too old (and she's too heavy) for him to be dragging her any distance.

This conclusion also has the benefit of allowing me a little entertainment during my walks.

Solstice Shadows

This being the longest day of the year is a perfect time to mention a phenomenon which is painfully obvious once observed yet something I had never encountered before living in the northern US and Europe:

Shadows below the Tropic of Cancer face south (at least from Spring to Fall).

Up north, boy scouts without compasses know they kind find their direction because moss grows on the north sides of trees--because sunlight never shines directly there. Up north, artists' garrets have north facing windows for the indirect light because the sun never shines on that side of the building. And just as the north sides of things are always shaded, shadows never face south. Except down here, they do.

Which is just subtle enough that it doesn't feel weird until you become consciously aware of it.

(And, yes, I know I'm not quite at the latitude of the Tropic, but the Sun is big and the effect kind of spills over.)

More Owls

We've had a successful burrowing owl season. The closest habitat to me had one owl all winter long. Another came around in the spring (Can't tell the males from the females so I don't know who moved in with whom.) and now there are three little ones as well. The youngsters are almost fully fledged except for white fluffy chests. The parents sit on their poles and the kids stay right by the burrows as I walk by except for one who always scuttles into the hole.

Lately, one of the adults has taken to perching on a mailbox across the street from the burrows in the morning as I walk by. An owly finial on the postal newel post, if you will. For the last two days it has perched there as I've walked past, just beyond arm's length but less than ten feet. Close enough to clearly see the yellow iris of its eyes. There is no fear in those eyes. A little disdain, maybe, but no fear.

There are three other occupied sites within a half mile of home, one of which--in the median of the road no less--also has young. So, as of now, the population I know of has basically doubled since last fall.

Act of God v. Graven Image

So...,

Is this evidence of God's non-existance, that lightning can strike, with impunity, His devotees' object of veneration, or

evidence that He's real and pissed at the violation of His Second Commandment?

Mom = 90

Today Mom is officially 90 years old. She has now lived longer than any other member of the family (so far). All in all, she's doing pretty well. I have noticed an increased deafness, and increased frailty. She will use her walker in the house now where before it was reserved for trips to the mailbox or excursions to one of her various doctors. She has more trouble keeping track of the details of our baseball games and yet will insist up and down that she is right even while admitting the whole rest of the world isn't wrong. She wins most of those arguments because she is 90 after all and, hey--why not?

My younger nephew, Dan, is here for the (extended) weekend before going back to Ft. Bliss and shipping out to Iraq. My brother and his girlfriend have planned the dinner--barbecue ribs and cake. I presume there will be other items on the menu. She's received congratulatory phone calls and presents from relatives and friends who can't be here and admitted to her kid sister (87) that it was astonishing to be 90.

I agree. Astonishing and wonderful.

Happy Birthday, Mom!!

Not Even Remotely Kosher

Good News!

The black blobby things washing up on our beaches here in South Florida are not BP tar balls. They're....

SEA PORK!!!

WTF!?!?

How the hell did this stuff ever get the name "Sea Pork"? Does it resemble the results of somebody's barbecuing attempt? Did somebody taste it? (Hint: go to page 6.) How have I lived this long without ever seeing or hearing of this?

(I'm also kind of curious to find out if there is anything anywhere that somebody won't eat.)