The Island of Bubba Moreau?

Normally, the news depresses, frightens and worries me to no end, but I surf it nonetheless, to stay in tune and to gauge the worlds' internal and external temperature as best I can. Sometimes I run across news stories that make me happy and give me hope, and other times I find stories that simply assure me that things are pretty much as I suspect them to be. This morning, the headlines handed me one of those - with added 'brouhaha'*
The Yahoo News header actually read: "DNA test results dispute Bigfoot brouhaha"
The sub-header reads: "Bigfoot claim a bust - DNA tests from the alleged body of a Bigfoot" and then there's a photo of these two guys, and then it says: Opossum involved"...
OPOSSUM INVOLVED! like the 'possum helped them scheme it up - if so, it was probably the smartest of the three… today is clearly my jackpot golden ticket news day.
"Also present were Matthew Whitton and Rick Dyer, the two who say they discovered the Bigfoot corpse while hiking in the woods of northern Georgia. They also are co-owners of a company that offers Bigfoot merchandise." [NO?! REALLY?!?! What a coincidence!]
"Despite the dubious photo and the commercial interests of the alleged discoverers, the Bigfoot claim drew interest from Australia to Europe and even The New York Times." If you have a chance, open the article and check out the photo of the business partner of these two WunderKind. I think I saw his picture in the dictionary next to "shifty".

Besides, everybody knows that BigFoot lives in Saluda, NC.
-s

*Terry Pratchett fans and people who think like Terry and his fans will understand why seeing this word in the headlines thrilled me so deeply.
Currently reading : The Truth By Terry Pratchett

psychotic microwaves, treasure hunting and general bagelosity


it’s been an odd day. we’ve been having bad drought conditions for sometime now, but last night it rained all night, it rained all morning, drizzled most of the afternoon and by about teatime has cleared up to a beautiful, cool damp mountain afternoon.
this morning, as jules and I coffeed and caught up on the latest average, everyday weirdness, she got up to get more coffee and as she began to cross the kitchen she made a shocked face and then just stood and stared at the microwave. I asked what it was, then looked, and from my vantage I could only see the letters ‘Chi’ on the readout. I assumed it was ‘chicken’. Julie remained frozen so I got up to look. The microwave had somehow automatically reset itself to … properly cook someone under 12? These photos are undoctored in any way. Jules swears the technology has gone evil. I think things have gone all ‘19’ again, x probably blames the matrix - or doesn’t care.
speaking of x, he was there for the next bit of weirdness. he’d come up the mountain to drop off supplies (oo that sounds so primitive) and take a coffee break from edit-hell. I was sitting on the deck under the umbrella and he was sitting in the open window next to the computer under the eave, facing me and chatting. at one point, he shifted backward and when he put his hand on the casement to steady himself, and my eyes followed his hand. the MagPirate in me immediately noticed the glint of gold. I looked inside the casement housing and there was a beautiful 10k gold antique dinner ring, set with diamonds. the window is usually closed because there’s no screen there, but the rain was so nice and no bugs, so I opened it while I worked this morning. who knows how long it’s been there. it’d be nice to return someone’s treasure to them. not real piratey maybe*, but it keeps me employed and in good favor with the ladies.
these are the beasts, sans koi and cat. cat is elusive and goldfish are expensive to shoot.
don’t ask me about the beasts. let’s just say… I’ve got plenty to keep me busy, I feel loved and appreciated, and I miss George.
spotty dog, red collar, cute black ear is Annie. she’s a complete love, her brother is teddy - he’s the reddish chow who looks like a bear. I think he’s my favorite, as far as personality and mannerisms go. he’s both laid back and down for whatever. the other two are visitors here too. their mom is staying while she looks for a place of her own. the little brown dog with the white muzzle is dear, dear chester. he’s a sweet little old man. you couldn’t not love this dog if you met him. and then, there’s bagel.
*sigh*
that tan-spotted, blue-collared white blur is el senor bagel. he could very easily be the cutest do on the planet. he’s a young puppy who has some pretty major abuse issues and he’s a very sweet and mild holy terror. he’s a handful, but when he looks up at you with his huge pale green eyes and skwooches up against you like melty butter, you could forgive him anything. thank goodness.
I’m hoping that the day continues in the same vein. I’m due for a little reality surfing.
-s



*unless you’re a gentleman pirate like me.

Blessed and Safe - Now.

I started a new gig today, house and pet-sitting for some old (almost as long as I’ve been in the Carolinas) friends. They have a beautiful home in Saluda, close to town and yet with a lovely wooded yard surrounding. Lucky me, I get to be here for almost 3 weeks. I am sitting in a bright corner of the kitchen, near the windows overlooking their deck. It’s a cool, crisp morning. There’s a fluffy white cat curled up in a wicker chair outside, there’s a sweet Dalmatian sleeping on a rug by my feet. The other dogs are napping and playing in other parts of the house (I can hear ‘Bagel’ softly squeaking his stuffed pheasant in the hall). Cicadas and birds are singing in the huge trees around the house, and I can hear the town waking and working in the distance. I always find new pieces of myself - or perhaps old, lost ones - when I’m staying in strange places. There’s a part of me that would be very happy staying in a new place every night. I like being able to explore who I am without my stuff, who I can be surrounded by new spaces, and let’s face it, I like variety in all things. Being in a new place is even more open and adventurous than playing a role on stage, because this is private (until now :) and all me, all mine. There’s also the joy of getting to spend time with and care for those little mookie puppy/kitty*-heads. Of course it makes me miss my girl, but it also brings me closer to her, and I love the job of trying to keep people’s pets from feeling sad while their folks are gone away. I know that for a well-loved creature, there’s nothing like your real ‘parents’, but I love trying to be a good substitute in the meanwhile, and I feel very honored to be asked. Getting paid for all of this is nice too. Yay, me!

I always feel inspired in new places, and for some reason, I feel safer than in the familiar. That’s probably not too hard to figure out. It’s almost as if it’s harder to be bruised and battered by the past in a new place. Mental tabula rasa always leaves room for the ghosts to sweep in, but physical tabula rasa always makes me feel new and hopeful. Maybe part of that is that my mind is occupied with new surroundings and responsibilities or possible adventures. The past becomes a pale shadow, the future becomes bright with possibility. I think I need to explore this line of thinking more. That can be my first assignment for this week. (See how you all and ‘Dear Blob**’ affect me? Thank you!)
I had intended to share stories today, but I think I will follow the spirit of my thoughts so far and let the past be pale today. Instead, I will enjoy the present, ponder the future, work on my ‘assignment’ a little, and make the most of this clean slate.
Besides, I have lines to learn and puppies to pet.
much love,
-s


*I also get my fair share of birds, fish, and kids. I’ve even had to tarantula-sit before. It was easier than the kids, although I still sometimes have nightmares about. The tarantula-sitting, not the kids… though there HAVE been a few…
**I call blogging ‘blobbing’ - it seems a more appropriate term. And I definitely think of this as my diary. It’s the most faithfully I’ve ever 'journalled' unless it was assigned to me.