I think I know now why bears hibernate. It’s to get the strength to face the world for when it is time to re-enter the jungle.
It’s been just over a week since Bonnie went missing. I want to think that she somehow miraculously escaped the yard and is off on an adventure. Some of you suggested I do that. That’s she’s readily finding food and meeting new friends and seeing the country.
Each time I’m on the computer I feel compelled to click the “Feed the Animals” icon.
The other night I was outside with the dogs. I saw a face peer out from behind my red mirror on the fence. At first I thought: what an odd lizard. Then it scurried out and across the fence. And I realized it was a mouse/rat. And then there was a second and a third.
It truly is a jungle out there. Even in a small suburban neighborhood that’s so heavily populated. Where they mow down trees for construction, and then turn around and plant new ones. Where do they expect the wild things to go in the interim?
This may mean I have to take down my birdfeeders. Sadly enough. To keep the vermin from being attracted to my yard. Anyone have any advice on this?
Poor Clyde doesn’t feel like going outside and hunting right now. At times I will find a decapitated rat in my garden. Yes, I know that sounds horrific. But I don’t think Clyde is a serial killer with deviant ways. I think he’s just a cat.
Yesterday I had an appointment at my doctor’s office for the recurring trigeminal neuralgia. I stood in my closet looking at my tops after my shower, and thought: I have to add to this dwindling medley of shirts. So before my appointment I went by the mall. I will occasionally shop at Dillards or Penneys, which means I don’t have to enter the dreaded mall atmosphere.
And so I gathered my “get ready for the many cell phone tones that assail you everywhere you go” mentality, and started shopping. I managed to find four tops that will hold me over for awhile.
As I walked by the cosmetics counters, I was greeted by all the new “anti-aging” products for our skin. I hate skin cream. I live in such a humid climate it would be dripping down my face. So I suppose I will show my wrinkles to the world in all their glory. And just look my age.
Anti-aging. Just the word makes me laugh. None of us can turn back the clock. Oh yes, we can get Botox treatments and hinder the outward appearance a bit. But it isn’t going to turn back time.
And really, would you want it to? Would you like to go through, say, adolescence again? That awkward stage when acne occurs and your body is developing before your brain catches up?
And then there are the women who are shopping for clothing that would look more appropriate on someone much younger. Know what I mean? I’m sorry, but seeing a woman with pants that are barely hanging onto her hips without slipping to the point of no return just don’t look attractive to me. Or at any age for that matter.
I kept running into the same woman in Dillards with dyed blond hair and clothing that was suited for someone much younger. She had a good figure, so she wore it well in that regard. But why would she want to? Why do we cling to another era by the tips of our fingernails, grasping at another time that has already slipped by?
Part of a song kept creeping into my mind for some strange reason. It followed me through shopping, the clinic and the pharmacy. As I went about town taking care of mundane tasks, the lyrics rode along in my head with me.
Don’t talk of love,
But I’ve heard the words before;
It’s sleeping in my memory.
I won’t disturb the slumber of feelings that have died.
If I never loved I never would have cried.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
I have my books
And my poetry to protect me;
I am shielded in my armor,
Hiding in my room, safe within my womb.
I touch no one and no one touches me.
I am a rock,
I am an island.
And a rock feels no pain;
And an island never cries.
Simon & Garfunkel lyrics