I have been posting so little on Facebook lately.  I find it so full of postings from those who seem to need to be recognized.  (I did post something the other day about the bobcat in our neighborhood, but that is unique, right?)  I have this friend who has been sharing all of these political things to my timeline.  I don’t hide from my politics, but I am also very reluctant to consistently remind people of my politics.  So, when my “friends” dropped by one the other day, I wondered what I had done.

If my politics was offending someone, I could have expected a few more drops than just one.  If I posted way to much, then I may see a drop as well.  So, my theory is someone has made their account “inactive”.  While my ego is not suffering terribly from this loss, the sleuth in me still would like the mystery to be solved.  I realize the downside if Facebook would inform “unfriended” people  of the occurrences.  Bullying would go up, and fear of suicides and other adverse results would keep the Facebook attorneys concerned about the ramifications of the change.  My curiosity might be someone else’s identity crumbling around them.

In a social media heavy world, we need to have selective sensitivity.  If parents would make more effort to protect their kids from the “crazies” on social media, then they wouldn’t be on Facebook and similar sites (My daughter’s love Pinterest.  They don’t seem to dive emotionally if they are not followed.  They do it because they enjoy “finding and not being followed”.) until they had the necessary emotional maturity to handle it.   If your grandma or mother unfriends you, you may want to watch the content you post on your Facebook page.  If your spouse “unfriends” you on Facebook, you might need to look in the mirror and decide you need some new priorities.  If you can’t remember the last conversation you had with a real person, maybe you need to put yourself in a room with others where conversations are not an option.  Some “old” skills may need to be relearned….the “friends” you care about will be there on social media when you return.

As I again donned my shoes and shuffled down the sidewalk, I knew I was not alone today.  While passing a fellow walker is not unknown, it would seem “National Walking Day” would bring out a bigger crowd.  I was not alone on the concrete path, but mid-day crowd did not seem to be embracing the opportunity either.

The one issue that bothers me most when I walk is the ear buds.  To me, walking is a way to step outside of the baggage associated with my desk.  Walking is an escape from the “busy” world and an escape to the world of a wandering mind where pockets of nature can still be found.  Since I am a regular walker, I would propose the day be, “National Stop Using Your Ear Buds and Listen to What Is In Your Head Rather Than Filling It With a Podcast or the Newest Itunes Day”.  We can agree exercise is good.  Might I suggest we consider placing our minds in a state of thought without pressure for results.  A state where we allow our mind to explore the input from our senses in a way a desk will not permit.

If you want to make the claim, “I have nothing in my head if the ear buds are not inserted.”, I can sympathize.  If you feel it might be too traumatic, you can start slow.  You can alternate with ear buds in for 5 minutes and then out for 5 minutes.  You might even try listening to music you really dislike.  After you anxiously yank the ear buds out, you might find the sound of nature more inviting.

Disclaimer:  If you do not have a park to walk in where natural sounds are available, you can disregard everything above.  Car horns and blaring radios would have the opposite of the desired effect.  Thanks for reading this anyway.

The garage sales were not for naught.  There are now two houses for sale (or very close based on “Coming Soon”)  across the street.  Now, we have a couple of things to get excited about….

• What will the house sell for?  What will it do to our property values?  (We did get a letter yesterday from the county letting us know the property values are going up and our taxes are going up.  We can try and fight a portion of the increase in value to keep our taxes lower.  But, if the house sell well, it will make this effort more difficult.)  How long will it take to sell?  And, what fun things will they throw out when they move that we can try and adopt?  (We still reflect back on the big screen TV we adopted a few years ago.  It did get adopted at least once after it left our house.  Whether it works or not, putting a sign on it saying “It works” brings the suckers out.)
• Who will the new neighbors be?  Will they have kids the same age as our kids? Pets?  Do they know how to clean up the messes their dog makes? How many cars do they have and will they have to park on the street frequently?  (At least neither of these houses is right next door.  If, for instance, the residents of the house were in their backyard or on their front porch smoking, we would not get any smoke blown into the house. [This has not happened to us…others have told me it has happened to them. ;-)]) Will we have similar interests to them?  Will they get rude with us when we try and take cookies over to welcome them to the neighborhood?  (All of our neighbors are perfect…none of them are capable of doing such things.)  Will we clique in some ways with the new neighbors?  Will they be new to DFW or will they just be upgrading neighborhoods?

As we anticipate change, we await the revealing of the answers to these questions and others.  Over time, the mysteries and surprises of change will be revealed.  The addition of other new neighbors has not gone how we anticipated or maybe desired.  This is quite possibly do to our busyness and lack of effort. I hope we can embrace this opportunity to welcome them.  May all of the attempts to be good neighbors in the past be good training as we seek to do better in the coming weeks.

As my wife and I went on yet another of our frequent walks last night, we stumbled across a first.  On the other side of the ditch, we saw a “puddy tat” on the other side of the ditch.  It did not seem to be a normal cat.  He had dark brown coloring.  He seemed to be a little bigger than a normal cat, but we credited that to him being on the other side of the ditch.  As he seemed to be content staying still, we nearly moved on.  Then, we got his profile view.  It was not hard to determine this was not a normal cat.  Although he was not the size of a mountain lion, he was definitely not the household pet type of cat either.

After taking my pictures and video (the Iphone pictures are better than nothing), the lady behind us with her small dog also wanted to confirm her instincts were correct.  (The bobcat was probably about the size of her dog.)  We saw a millennial couple who noticed the creature and were curious as well.  It seems bobcats are far less normal to see than coyotes.

On a final note, my son took an Environmental Science class his senior year of high school.  I chaperoned on one of their field trips.  On this field trip, they found out about a study being done where collars were put on bobcats so their movement habits could be tracked.  I don’t remember all of the details.  I do recall that bobcats do move around a bit.  Our bobcat was not collared, but he was moving!!

As I came back from my walk last night (Yes, I do walk LOTS), there was a small little snake (maybe a copperhead–he was various shades of brown) on the front porch.  He/she was absorbing the heat coming off of the concrete.  He was only 6 inches long, so I did not consider him any sort of threat at all.  I worked to find a long piece of mulch or a twig to remove him from anywhere female eyes might see his legless, slithering body.

Unfortunately for him, when I went to slide the twig under him, he assuming the “strike” position.  His “strike zone” did not put me at risk, but it did make me reevaluate my earlier plan.  Is relocating a poisonous snake a good plan? Is it worth confirming he is poisonous before permanently removing him from among the living?  After I make my decision, should I tell any of the females (or any reptilian-averse house members) a snake was sited and the threat was removed from our property?

I did opt for the safe plan.  The method used to remove the threat was accomplished based on what was available to mete out the necessary sentence.  (If I get into specifics, it may sound like I enjoyed the procedure.)  Once I thought about what the worst possible scenario could be if his sentence was commuted, the death penalty seemed an easy way to avoid any threats from the future him.  Life is precious, but preventing risk to the ones I love is even MORE precious!

As I perused the Sunday paper today, I was nearly overwhelmed with the number of obituaries filling the pages.  (nearly 4+ pages)  Since I am getting along in years myself, I did a quick glance over the pictures of the deceased trying to determine if I have any “age buddies” who have passed on.  Fortunately, my age range doesn’t fill the pages….yet.  But, when I do see a picture approximating my age, it is often a fairly recent picture.  Those of the older deceased suffer from a different problem….

It appears those who die in their 80-90’s have determined it is not beneficial (rather the families or spouses have made this decision) to post pictures within a year prior to their death.  Most of the octogenarian and nonagenarians seemed to have pictures representing the “them” of a decade or two  before.  Some of the obituaries even have two pictures.  Maybe one when they served in the military and then one that follows the above rule.  The theory being the them they have become may not be recognized as the them they now are.

Of course, we are all old enough to be dead.  Life is not overly discriminate when it passes its baton to the next runner (I thought about putting other modes of transportation here.  But, since I believe a new body awaits believers on the other side, running seems to be the proper mode.).  Our pictures may identify us, but they do not identify who we are.  So, if you feel death coming on in a decade or so, you may want to consider getting a REALLY good picture.  You don’t want people to think you are old enough to be dead when you get there.

If you live in the south and if you are a certain type of tree, it is accepted you will become afflicted with the mistletoe parasite.  (This tree/mistletoe relationship is exactly like the relationship between the government and taxpayers.)  While I have no knowledge of how the mistletoe is governed once it infects a tree, I am pretty sure the tree is not consulted as to whether it minds.  And, as the mistletoe continues to send up new sprouts (or increase its parasitic activity or seek world domination within the few branches of its world), it is unclear whether the tree eventually attempts to negotiate a truce.  The proposed truce might be,  “If you keep this up, I am going to die so please lay off the expansion program.”  The mistletoe may counter with, “Cry baby!  This is what we do!”  Regardless of the dialogue, this tree seems to be a very poor negotiator.

As my daughters and I (plus one of their friends, but why complicate things) did a little shopping (I was not really shopping.  I was more the cranky guy trying to keep them from spending too much time in one shop and building the shop owners expectations of a nice sale. ), we stumbled across this chalked sign.  Were I a brighter person, it maybe would be less entertaining to me.  However, maybe hanging out with 3 teenage girls made this sign more humorous than was appropriate.  I have always liked a little play on words.  Seeing Christopher Walken‘s there to greet any walkers-by just seemed to be picture-worthy.

The first half of today’s walk was pretty uneventful.  I think the only person I encountered was a woman with a leash-less dog behaving in a way our dog was far from able.  The second half was more eventful.  Although my fellow pedestirans were not friendly or making eye contact, they all seemed to be bunching up near the park.  The park also a few tennis balls flying around in the designated areas, and the grass clippings were doing their best to launch well beyond the angry riding mower.

As I rounded the softball fields, I saw a couple of ladies leisurely striding along the path I was preparing to conquer.  Conquer?  Yes, definitely so.  My pace increased as I anticipated how I would revel in the moment as I passed them and their puny legs.  As I continued to gain on them, I mulled over the Tarzan yell I might give or the hand stand I might do.  With a right hand turn just made, the time for the deed had arrived.  With no apparent idea I was rapidly eating their dust, they took their half of the sidewalk out of the middle.  When I uttered, “On your left.” the shorter of the two ladies nearly jumped out of her Valentines sweat shirt as she pulled the mace from her purse.

“I was ready to attack you.  I had no idea you were back there.”, she said.

“No problem.  I was ready for you.”, I replied.

“Give me more warning next time.  I will show what a granny can do.”

“I am sure you would.  I will wear my tap shoes next time.”

As I continued past them, I heard them both comment how neither of them had any idea I was coming up behind them.  I do not believe either of them mentioned, “Walking with a shotgun next time”, but this is Texas.