turtles, a snake, sherpa/shepherd, the finger, I'm not making this shit up
Why are all the box turtles you ever find exactly the same size? Certainly they aren't hatched fully grown, so where the hell are all the little ones? Never seen one in my entire life, and I've seen a ton of box turtles. I look for them on the shoulder of 79, both southbound and northbound, though I tend to see more southbound because it's typically cool morning when I'm heading that direction and hot afternoon when I head north. Turtle afficionados, please intelligently comment away.
|Listening to:||weedwacker in F#|
|Weather:||81, back to sticky|
I stopped at Pier One on Monday afternoon on my way home from Stonewall. Just a break from the car and a nice place to stroll around without too much danger of spending much money (I rarely buy anything there, I just like to look). OK, I bought a glass and a cool dish. Anyhoo, on my way out I see a cool looking little snake in the crack of the sidewalk. Stop. Observe. Not moving. Reach toward it. No movement. So I pick it up. It appears quite lifeless, little forked tongue hanging out almost crispy. But the snake looked totally uninjured (K, you're thinking didn't she already pick up a hald dead bird this month? What's with the dead or dying critter fixation? Contribute to the therapy jar, I have no clue.) and absolutely no rigor mortis had set in, it was still totally flexible. Cool. What kind of snake? No expertise here, but it had a lovely pebbly pattern on it's back, not diamonds like a copperhead, a white belly with no copper or other color under its chin, and was just a baby about 14 inches long thin as your pinky. Cool, I'll take it home. Uh, why? Not sure, just wanted to have a closer look at it. Head for the car. First I pulled its mouth open and didn't see anything toothlike. K, head home, snake on the seat with my workshop materials and PDA and whatnot.
The next morning Liv wants to go to the mall in the afternoon, meaning she'll have to come to work with me and hang till my lunch hour when I can run her over. A'ight. She opens the passenger door, oh, sorry I have a bunch of crap you'll have to put in the back seat so you can sit here. And she does, also putting her own bag in the floor of the front passenger seat. Halfway to Morgantown I remember, Snake! "Oh, hey Liv, there was this little snake I found. . ." You have never seen a 5'10" girl move any quicker or more futilely, trying to simultaneously lift her feet off the floor, ass off the seat, and not touch any part of the car with her hands. Hilarious!!! I almost drove off the road laughing. SNAKE! WHAT SNAKE! WHERE THE FUCK IS IT? WHY DO YOU ALWAYS DO THIS SHIT?! So funny, I shouldn't pay so much for cable when I have her to entertain me.
K here's where it gets weird. She searches the floor, the door, the seat, the back seat, between the seats, where is the supposedly-dead serpent? Nowhere to be found. Well, he probably just fell on to the floor of the garage unnoticed when she opened doors and moved stuff from front seat to back, right? Well, unless something took or ate it, not, because we checked thoroughly when we came home. The mystery continues. Yo, rikki tikki tavi, got a gig for ya.
Food for thought: Is it just coincidence that sherpa and shepherd sound so similar?
And here's another bizarre circumstance cat finds herself witnessing: On the elevator heading up to the 5th floor to my office, mother with little boy get on, too. They push 2. Mom looks pretty normal, probably a low-income person heading for some services in the building, kid looks to be no older than 4. He's bouncing off the walls, literally, throwing himself from one side of the cranky old and sometimes scary 'vator, mom pays no attention. Doors open on 2, mom heads out saying "come on, jethro" or whatever the kid's name is, and she immediately turns to head down the hall, and little johnny is out of her sight but just barely. Then, for real, I couldn't possibly make this up, he turns around to see me at the back of the 'vator, sticks his tongue out and concurrently flips me off! Not just for s second, but continues giving me the bird as he disappears out of sight. I totally laughed my ass off! I'm tellin ya, this kid could not have been much over 4, an age when even showing how many you are can be a mystical accomplishment requiring one hand to hold the right fingers up and down. Amazing dexterity! Brilliant timing! Fabulous and artful execution! 9.7, 9.8, 9.8, 9.6, and the surly Russian judge gives him a 9.3.
I listened to Tipping Point on audio on the way home from Charleston today. Very interesting and cool book about the epidemiology of ideas. More on this later. It's 4:2o somewhere.
posted by cat 7:20 PM