Happy Everything Day!

I hereby decree that from this day forth, the 29th day of the month of May shall be known as:  Everything Day!

Everything important in my life seems to happen on this day.

May 29, 1939:  My mom's birthday.   She is 70 this year and is not the least bit happy about that.  She still thinks of herself in her 40's I think.  But that's cool, she can do that. She can still run circles around me with a dust mop (and sometimes does, literally).  

Mom always gets upset because she thinks she gets forgotten on her birthday - especially milestone birthdays.  For example, she was was miffed that I was the one who got the cake on her 40th birthday, 30 years ago because ---

May 29, 1979: I graduated from high school.   Yup 30 years.  Good lord where the hell did those years go?  Anyway I remember it like it was yesterday.  My sister baked me a cake that was shaped like a piano. 

It was very selfish of me to have my high school graduation fall on mom's 40th birthday. 

Thee years later, I was planning  my wedding. Toby and I had originally chosen April 24, but there were some complications with that date, and we had to reschedule.  Mom volunteered to help us find another place and date, and it absolutely could not be any later than Memorial Day because, (gasp) my gown had long sleeves, and it just wasn't done that a June bride wore long sleeves.   So guess what day she managed to secure for us?

May 29, 1982:  27 years ago today, I got married.  I got a cake that day too.  You can also imagine that I was a bit distracted with my own event to remember to bake a cake for mom.  I did arrange for the DJ to sing her a happy birthday song -- which had to be worked into his schedule of obligatory wedding dances. 

Every May 29, since, I have celebrated an anniversary.  Can I be forgiven for thinking of that day as my anniversary first, and mom's birthday second?   I never forget to send flowers afterall.

There is another fun fact about this day.

Those of  you who have my book "By Right of Will" go ahead and open up to the first page, and check out the date. Yup, May 29, 1588.  Mom was tickled that I picked that date as the birthday of my main character.   But there's a secret to it.  You see, I found my character while doing research into my own genealogy. There really was  a William Fylbrigge and his birthday really was May 29.  I changed the year to suit my story -- just don't tell mom.  

So, Happy Birthday Mom!

Happy Birthday Will!

Happy Anniversary Lorrie and Toby!

Happy 30th Graduation Anniversary Lorrie!

And Happy Everything Day to all of you.

In Defense of Black Flies!

The unofficial state bird of Maine (NH and VT too): The Black Fly. 

Oh
how I loathe them. They bite like a shovel and draw blood instantly.
They bite through clothes, and bugspray and buzz around your face when
you're trying not to fall off a mountain.  They form clouds around your
head, that you can not help but inhale, and they burrow into your
ears. 

So why defend them?

Simple; they're part of the natural order of things.

Oh
believe me, I'd like to not have to deal with them, but I simply cannot
defend the use of spraying to deplete them. The spray is bad for other
animals for one thing, and it smells bad.  There is another more
bio-friendly way to deal with them that only attacks the larvae, that
the state is using, but I don't like that either.

You simply cannot remove an entire species from the food chain just because they are annoying to human beings. 

If
the annoyed tourists yell loud enough, and the state complies, then
these silly people will wonder why the fish population is down, when
all the flies are gone because they starved.  They'll panic and try
force stocking more fish which where they don't belong, or blaming it
on the birds eating too many. . .  in short, it would just mess up the
balance of everything by trying to cater to one small part of the
chain.

The flies are a bane to any hiker's existence, but all
we have to do is wear a net, or OFF or something and we're just fine.
We don't need to destroy them  all.  Or if we really cannot stand them
even with these precautions, the we can simply stay out of the woods
for the three or four weeks each year that they are active. Silly
people think they own the planet.

Anyway, here are some
pictures from today's hike.  We chose to go up old Monadnock again, on
our yearly pilgrimage to the most trod upon mountain in America.   It
was perfect weather for hiking too. (Alas the flies liked it as well),
and the view was top notch.  

I'm very tired, so I'm just going to post the pictures. :) (see if you can spot the flies) Enjoy:







For more see the FaceBook Gallery.  (No flies )

Just when I thought it was Safe to Go Into the Tub...

 The cat has discovered the joy of lurking between the shower liner and the outer shower curtain.  I didn't see her hunched on the edge of the tub, tucked up close to the wall as I pulled the curtain for my shower.  I didn't notice the tip of her fuzzy tail whipping back and forth as she peeked around the small gap near the wall, biding her time, waiting for the perfect moment to attack.

There I was, in my most vulnerable state, enjoying a nice hot shower, my hair and face covered in suds, when suddenly, I was dancing with a wet cat. She pounced on blob of shampoo, landing squarely on my foot.

I jumped and yelled, "What the hell?!" squinting through the suds that had now fallen into my eyes. I saw the blur at my feet as she hopped around the tub, trying to find the way out. I danced around trying to avoid stepping on her or slipping. 

She ran around my feet, circling like a motorcycle daredevil in a giant barrel, climbing the side of the tub a little higher each time, but still unable to find her escape. I reached for the shower head, trying to divert it away from her as best I could, when the spout came off in my hand.   Suddenly, the gentle jungle spray I was enjoying became a fire hose that hit me square in the face.  I jumped back, zigging at the last second to avoid the crazy cat, who was now on her forty-third lap around the tub.  My right foot slid west and my left slid east and it took only a nano-second for my ass to go south. 

I missed the cat when I landed, but startled her enough that she stopped running.  She had found the one spot in the tub that the fire hose seemed to avoid and was just sitting there, tail curled around her feet, little head cocked to one side, watching me as I struggled to get back on my feet. 

I managed to get my feet under me, and stood up enough to get my balance.  I turned off the water, reattached the shower head and looked down at the cat, who was still sitting there licking water off her paw.  I pulled the shower curtain aside and told her she could go now.

She looked up at me, looked at the open curtain, and went back to licking her paw. After a second she looked back at me and meowed as if to say, "So, turn it back on, I need to rinse you know."

I picked her up and put her out for the tub.  I was still covered in soap and did need to rinse and was not willing to do the cat dance again.  I restarted the water, and kept my eye on the curtain this time.   All was well.

When I pulled back the curtain, a terrible realization descended on me. You see, when I went into the bathroom originally, I closed the door -- of course.  The cat was not in there when I did so.  She has learned to open the door and that is how she'd found her way to visit me.  The shower is directly across from the door.  The bathroom is situated in such a way, that when the door is open, there is a clear view of the street through a living room door window, to the shower.

The UPS man smiled, tipped his hat and hurried away.

Tomorrow, I may sell tickets.

Beginning in June 2009

I will be moving my Xanga blog to this space.