Another post? Ah, why not?

Tell Me a Story

The sun shines today. It is December the twenty ninth. Between Christmas and the new year. That brings next year very close. Three days from now next year will be far away. Time measurements have sort of a wackiness about them.

The sun shines today. The day before yesterday it rained. It rained on mountains of snow. For days and days people have been digging out. Snowplows too struggled with the loads. The rain did a faster, more efficient job, Turned roads and walks into rivers. Shrunk the mountains to ground level.

The sun shines today. Most places one can walk now without fear of slipping on ice. Most sidewalks are bare. They dried enough before the weather changed to light freezing.
The sun shines today and it feels like spring. You almost expect little sprouts to appear in the soil. Flower beginnings. But you know better. It is still December. A long way off to April.
The sun shines today, but yesterday, while still raining, the wind blew with a vengeance. The outside was a dance floor for empty garbage cans, and hard to identify litter. The wind arranged its own band, clinging and clattering anything loose around. Even things not so lose were torn away and sent in the air, or crashed to the ground. The wind was having a ball, singing and whistling in tune with the sounds of destruction.

But the sun shines today. The temperature is mild. Here at home my windows and doors are open, letting in lots of fresh air.

How many stories are hidden in the above, trillions? One could follow the path of someone who slipped on ice and broke a limb. One can enter the emergency with this person. Could be an adult. Could be a child. There are nurses, there are doctors, there is a waiting room full of patients with all their own stories, making new ones.

Someone else could have been caught in the flood waters. Didn't make it. Stopped breathing. Devastated family and friends. Ambulance attendants. News reporters. Onlookers. One of them goes home and tells the story. A listener knew the person that drowned. The story calls up unbearable memories causing a nervous breakdown. Councilors or a psychiatrist enter the scene.

Someone, an elderly someone, could live alone, not having anyone to share Christmas with. Sits by the window in a rocker. Watches the strange weather. Thinks back to Christmas' past, live stories in the inner mind. Picks up a pen and writes, recreating memories.

A little girl is out in the yard. The sun shines today. She opens a gate and enters a summer garden, leaving white winter behind. A bunny, walking up straight, meets her, takes her by the hand, and they follow a path surrounded by flowers and butterflies, up to where? Maybe a fairy castle and a prince.

A cat jumps in through an open window. Meets the family dog. Dog barks. Cat runs. Dog runs after it. Wild chase. Cat jumps on the piano. Runs some scales. Throws over some statues, a plant crashes to the floor. Dog barks, cat squeals, footsteps sounding, upset homeowners enter the scene. Who are they, where do they come from, do they support World Wildlife, do they like animals unconditionally, do they hate cats, is it their dog, are they just dog sitting?

The sun shines today. I looked at my empty screen and wrote six paragraphs about time and weather. I imagined about all the hidden stories in those six simple paragraphs. So many to chose from. Endless, endless stories. On this sunshiny day I agree with author Michael Ende who sees life as a Never Ending Story, even though there is an ende to his name.

wild thing

BETWEEN A ROCK AND A HARD PLACE

It seemed a good idea. Cars powered by electricity. I kept on wishing the idea was pushed more. No dangerous emissions spewing in the air. Less oil needed. Hopefully less disastrous oil spills. Saving lake, river, and sea creatures. Altogether better for the environment.
That's what I thought. Until I saw a commercial pointing out how much more electricity we will need when our transportation is powered by electricity. How we're definitely going to need more and bigger nuclear plants providing clean power, and how the government is proud to work on the extension of the nuclear power plants, to provide us with clean, safe electricity. Sounds like a golden promise. Until you do a double take, “nuclear power?” Clean? Safe? What about Chernoble, and other accidents? What about all the nuclear wastes being buried in secret far off places, like the Arctic? What about all that cancer causing stuff escaping into the air we breath. Settling on the food we eat. What about it?

Wild Thing

MY UMBRELLY-WELLY-S and ME.

I used to camp out in my backyard. This year one never knows whether it will rain or not. So I camp out in my living room. Close to the wide open patio doors, so I can quickly close them when the sky breaks open. I still get the fresh air, I still hear the wind in the trees, I still hear my fountains sing their watery songs in harmony, to accompany my dreams.

Towards morning, still pitch dark, I half awoke, and heard water clatter. Oh no, I thought, my fountains have gone out of control. Space creatures have come to take over!!! I scrambled from my cozy sleeping nest, stood and tried to comprehend what was happening. Oh. Without a warning the big guy in the sky had sent what seemed like a 40 day flood. Well, no time to build an ark, but definitely time to walk the dog. My alarm clock going off, told me so. I sleepily dressed in my "sloppy-it-doesnt-matter clothes", stuck my feet in my wellies, grabbed my big, big umbrella, and out in the downpour I went with treats and poopy bags in my pockets, following that dog. So easy to be a dog. A coat that always keeps you at the right temperature, except maybe in an all over disabeling heat wave that retards all living creatures, unless they steal the benfits of that "ruining the environment" invention the air conditioner.

I always enjoy walking under my umbrelly, making a circumference of dry around me, splashing my wellied feet through big puddles, listening to the symphony of raindrops above me and all around. The rain seems to bring out more smells for Simon, and he, without umbrelly, without wellies, wags his tale enthusiasically and takes his time reading doge-mails. What a pair in the dark early hour on deserted streets, just an odd car splashing by.

Wild Thing

Big Brother Watching Me?

I have a niece who lives in Wales. Recently she got married. She e-mailed me with her newly married name, twice. To send wedding pictures and so.

Didn't I fish a letter out of my mailbox, this morning, addressed to my niece, her name and newly wedded name, but my home address, by a Toronto Company with grocery saving coupons. Stuff I need like a hole in the head.

The only way I can think of they could do that is by reading e-mails.

Like I once took out a store's credit card, just to take advantage of a big discount on what I bought. Then I cancelled the card. But after I got lots of junk mail, and I knew it was because I fell for that credit discount, 'cause they had spelled my name wrong, and all the junk mail came to my misspelled name.

Feels weird to get mail for my niece in Wales on my address.

Wild Thing

Poor Poor Blog

't's abandoned. It's very sad. Dovetalers don't love it anymore. Is blogging out of style? Ah, it lived a short life. Oh blogger, blogger, it fell by the wayside. It stares out into never-never land. Sometimes it meets the sad eyes of Mental blog. Mental blog is still sort of kept alive by HWSNBN. But it too is suffering from lack of response. The thought exchange machine is dying. Taken over by the incredible fast evolution of the cell phone. The cell phone which can do everything, just from the pocket, wherever you are, phone, pay your bills, text, make photos, exchange pictures, words... Just walk along with that little thingy in your hand held to your ear, and be in contact with all of your world. Very convenient. Is it cheaper? Not likely. Is it more sociable? I doubt it. It probably saves time. That vehicle time we keep on running out of more and more. How does that happen? Time savers make us busier? Oh blogger, blogger, in memoriam the blog. May it rest peacefully in cyberspace.

obsolete wild thing

NO KIDDING

Wild Thing heard the most brilliant weatherforecast, this morning, on the radio,

"When the clouds roll away, we'll have sun."