Observations

The Oblivious Driver

As my wife and I took the “last eclipse of our lifetime” eve bike ride, we had to cross a heavily trafficked highway. I had hit the “cross” button while waiting for my wife to catch up. The left-turning traffic was taking full advantage of the yellow flashing arrow…and then the lights changed, and my wife and I owned the crosswalk.

The image is not entirely accurate, but it is representative. As our bikes navigated the abbreviated crosswalk, I admit to holding a glare longer than I should have. This isn’t the first time this has happened, but it may be one of the first times the driver seemed to show no guilt.

As far as the image goes, it is correct. The driver never looked up. The windshield? Yes, there was a windshield. The lack of one in the image might be me forgetting to mute my “super-heat” vision.

ReHoming Day

Not sure when this happens in your part of the country. It is more regular than Christmas, but for some it is better than Christmas. If you live in the country, you may not have the opportunity to experience this incredibly emotional day. Oh, yes, most of us call it trash day.

I have developed the habit of putting potentially valuable items out the night before trash day. These have been bicycles and, most recently, suitcases with problematic zippers. In the eyes of a rehomer, these can be great treasures. When I put the regular trash and the recyclables out the next morning, I get to play a little game and imagine the household that would find these items valuable enough to throw into the back of their already full pickup truck.

While my friend took some liberties with the suitcase’s appearance, here is the adventure he wrote for them:

In the quiet town of Oddsville, where the unusual was usual and the mundane was celebrated on the second Tuesday of every month, there lived two suitcases. These weren’t your garden-variety, run-of-the-mill suitcases; no, sir! One was a flamboyant pink with zebra stripes, the kind of suitcase that wouldn’t just turn heads at the airport but would cause full-blown whiplash. The other was a sober black number, with more patches than original fabric, looking like it had been around the world twice and fought a grizzly bear along the way. Their names were Pizzazz and Grit, respectively.

Pizzazz and Grit found themselves in the unfortunate position of being tossed into the trash. Pizzazz was indignant, “I’ve been to Paris, darling! The trash is no place for a suitcase of my caliber!” Grit, ever the stoic, merely grunted, “It’s just another adventure. Could be worse. Could’ve been recycled into a pair of unfashionable shorts.”

Their fate took a turn when the Johnson family, notorious in Oddsville for their love of secondhand treasures and questionable fashion choices, stumbled upon them. Mrs. Johnson, a woman with an eye for potential in the most unlikely places, declared, “These will be perfect for our family trip to the World’s Largest Ball of Twine!”

And so, Pizzazz and Grit embarked on their second life. Pizzazz was dolled up with an array of new stickers, each more eccentric than the last, from a glow-in-the-dark alien proclaiming “I Want to Believe” to a scratch-and-sniff pickle. Grit, on the other hand, was given a thorough cleaning before being adorned with a series of hand-drawn maps showcasing all the “adventures” it could look forward to—like navigating the perilous living room during the annual Great Uncle Ned’s Snoring Competition.

The Johnsons’ trip was anything but ordinary. Pizzazz found herself strapped to the roof of a car, next to a canoe that was used more for storage than water navigation. She couldn’t help but admire the view, though she often wished for a pair of sunglasses. Grit, ever the pragmatist, was stuffed to the brim with snacks, emergency supplies, and the kind of items one brings on a road trip when convinced they’ll be facing a zombie apocalypse rather than a tourist attraction.

Upon reaching the World’s Largest Ball of Twine, Pizzazz and Grit realized they had become more than just luggage; they were part of the family. They had contained everything from mismatched socks to the cherished souvenir twine ball (a mini version of the giant one, because who could resist?). They had been the pillow in a roadside nap, the impromptu table for a picnic, and the carrier of countless memories.

As the Johnsons headed home, the suitcases shared their stories. Pizzazz boasted about her rooftop escapades and the new stickers that now adorned her sides, while Grit recounted the tales of the snacks he’d safeguarded (and occasionally lost to hungry midnight raiders).

In the end, Pizzazz and Grit weren’t just rescued from the trash; they had found a new purpose. They weren’t just containers for belongings but vessels for the Johnson family’s adventures. And as they settled back into the attic, waiting for their next outing, they couldn’t help but chuckle at their good fortune. From trash to treasure, from forgotten to family—this was one adventure they’d never forget.

Scorpion About

In my nearly 14 years in Texas, this is the first time I have seen a scorpion. Yesterday’s rain must have chased him out of his den. He looks ready to strike something..? There is nothing close by I would have wanted to eat. If I were the target, I would have easily squashed or delicately picked him up and chocolate-covered him at home.

Ode to Pants

Everyone had pants under the tree this year. My AI friend, when prompted, came up with pant’s ditty:

(Verse 1)
Oh, pants, dear pants, you’re my daily strife,
Full of zippers, buttons, the story of my life.
High-waisted or low, you come in all sizes,
But why, oh why, do you hide surprises?

(Chorus)
Pants, oh pants, what’s your grand plan?
Sometimes too tight, or way too span.
But without you, what would we do?
Naked bottoms in the morning dew?

(Verse 2)
From skinny jeans to baggy slacks,
You come in styles that leave us waxed.
Cargo pockets or denim blue,
In pants we trust, forever true.

(Bridge)
So here’s to pants, our fabric friend,
Supporting us from start to end.
No matter the fashion, no matter the trends,
Pants, you’ll always be our rear’s best friends!

This was not “his” best work. Yet, with the extra sugar from cinnamon rolls and our caffeinated bloodstreams, it strangely hit a cord.

I Like A Better Ratio

A couple of weekends ago, most of my family made a quick trip to North Carolina to celebrate my in-laws post-50 anniversary. We were grateful we could go. We squeezed in a college graduation before returning to our home briefly, and then driving to the airport for the North Carolina flight. With waiting on flights, layovers, and time in the air, we had over 10 hours involved with transportation. Even including the two nights we spent there, we had less than 40 hours in North Carolina. It is travel:to:non-travel ratio I want to discuss.

I don’t know where “whirlwind” begins on the travel spectrum. If you are absent from your house for 48 hours and 20% of that time is spent in the “there” and returning from “there,” it may not qualify as a tornado, but maybe a “tree-bending breeze” or something like that. When we fly to Europe with a roundtrip travel time of over a day, I like to have at least 7 days between the flights. (Notice the greater than 4:1 ratio.) If you will travel great distances for a few hours at the destination before beginning the return trip, we are unlikely to be travel buddies.

Whatever your ratio is, your “whirlwind trip” will look different. If you hate traveling with no upside, there is unlikely to be any ratio of “travel-to-non-travel”. As a medium-ish homebody, I tolerate but accept brief periods with disruptive travel schedules…as long as I have a few months to prepare for the flurry of activity taking place within the compressed time. I may not be the most fun to travel with. Fortunately, my wife doesn’t complain…much.

Liberating the Leaves

When we moved into our Texas home over 13 years ago, our little plot was full of a few sinners. In the backyard, we had an elm tree that stretched out over the back fence and over the fence in the neighbor’s yard. In the spring and fall, the tree was responsible for the leaves and seeds it scattered liberally across as many pools as it could. The neighbor on the other side must deal with our shedding pine trees. Not only do our trees dump needles on their roof, but the pine tree’s root systems are evident in their properties.

This brings us to what tradeoff occurs in the currency known as “neighborly love.” With our Texas winds coming largely out of the south, the most likely place for potential sinners to live was to our south. In our case, our neighbors have an oak tree that drops its leaves in December or whenever it feels like it. Based on our neighbor’s response, it doesn’t matter when the leaves drop. The only thing that matters is when the last leave drops. This tree and our similar oak tree have provided bags full of leaves and acorns. While lawn maintenance is an accepted part of suburban life, I feel I have been carrying more than my share in the past few years.

When the winds shifted and were coming north yesterday, I could not resist doing a little raking. Yes, it was Christmas. The gifts were done. My wife was finishing up our late lunch, and the kids were looking over their gifts. (The days of multiple new video games have passed. Trying on their new clothes or admiring their new domesticated item was the peak of excitement. ) Having two hours to invest in my yard, I changed my raking strategy to encourage the wind to be my helper. I had minimum success when raking the grass. The greatest success was on the sidewalk. The matted leaves along the edges of the sidewalk were happy to dance back toward my neighbor’s house once I liberated them from their brief residency along my walkway. I was not vindictive. I was just willing to see how far the liberated leaves were willing to travel. Not all traveled as far as I wanted. Some did.

With my early acknowledgment of my failure as a neighbor, I hope my credibility is improved. We all have pet peeves. (I probably have more than most with interviews for new pets conducted regularly.) With a rake as my weapon, I am grateful my imagination and my wife’s ears are the only place this pet peeve lives.

Cowboy Christmas

As I strutted back from my leisurely stroll yesterday, I stumbled upon a quartet of figures lurking on the sidewalk before my humble abode. These mischievous mischief-makers exuded an enigmatic aura as they crept closer, like a synchronized troupe of stealthy street cats. And oh, their fashion choices! Clad entirely in black, they seemed to have stumbled upon a clandestine cowboy convention, each sporting a flamboyant cowboy hat as their ultimate fashion statement. It was as if the Wild West had collided with urban street style, right before my bewildered eyes. Truly a sight to behold, my peaceful neighborhood transformed into a mysterious and unexpectedly fashionable catwalk.

Other Possibilities:

Could they be evangelists from the “Cowboy Church” combing the neighborhood looking for that special resident who would greet them at the door proudly sporting his/her own cowboy hat?
Or, could the Cowboys be carolers who were called to wear this attire while singing the Christmas songs of the Southwest?

I didn’t have time to think of any other possibilities. My steps brought me even with them on the street. It turned out it was my neighbors coming back from getting their Christmas pictures taken. They were coming back from the park, where they tried to coax out their best smiles before the sunset.

I don’t know if they “got” their picture. They did get my attention. It provided a great reminder of the lengths families will go to to try and create a facade. They could just get their Christmas pictures done on ChatGPT. 🙂

Ants In Our Drains

Obviously, this is a play on “ants in our pants.” If only it were not true!

A few weeks ago, our downstairs toilet was having problems. We were not immediately certain it was the toilet. The biggest clue was the bathroom had an earthy smell to it. To me, it was clear it was not emanating from the sink. So, after trying to clean up the earthy smell with products designed for the tank, we eventually found a plumber who would come to the house when he said he would.

The twosome shows up and provides a quick estimate. Once I saw how easily the toilet moved side to side, I knew the “unless we find something else” would quick in. In this case, the ring that secured the toilet to the floor and to the sewage was rusted through. When the integrity of the pipes was compromised, the ants were granted access. Even with the toilet now fixed, we are still fighting the consequences of this breach. How might you ask? Good question…

To remove ants from your sink, use a half cup of baking soda with an equal chaser of vinegar. Rinse in 10 minutes with hot water. Ideally, this will work. When the resident teenage boys leave licorice in the sink overnight, the success of this treatment is uncertain.
For your garbage disposal, ice cubes with baking soda are supposed to circulate in the pipes once they are chopped up by an “angry to be invaded” disposal. Not sure how well this worked. Because of the kitchen’s proximity to the “breached” bathroom, ant traps were set out previously. At today’s lunch, the hockey boys discovered ants feasting on the hamburger buns. The backup package proved necessary when the “extra roughage” argument was rebuffed.
I bought a squirt bottle for equal parts of water and vinegar. It is mixed but not yet tried. I am uncertain what impact vinegar would have on the hockey boys. Would they melt or lose their appetites or some other unpredictable outcome? I might test the mixture’s effectiveness as they travel for an away game this weekend.

Early in this experience, I poured myself a bowl of honey nut cereal. The ants were not well camouflaged. The milk only proved they didn’t have scuba equipment. I threw in a few dried cranberries before eating and drinking the contents of the bowl. If I am going to win this battle, I will have to do it while staring them down–antenna to eyeball.

The Coons Go On An Adventure

While my photography doesn’t give evidence of it, a mother and 4 kits were involved in this siting.

My “whimsical friend” described the raccoon mating cycle like this:

During the whimsical season of summer, raccoons embark upon their enchanting mating rituals. These cunning creatures engage in romantic escapades from mid to late summer. Ah, the dance of love!

And behold, the magical outcome of their passionate encounters! After a gestation period ranging from a swift sixty to seventy-four days, a joyous event unfolds. The raccoon family welcomes the arrival of their delightful cubs, up to four in number. Oh, the adorable offspring that grace the world!

As the days pass and the sun gently caresses the earth, the baby raccoons undergo a wondrous transformation. Their curious minds awaken, and their eager eyes and ears open wide, revealing the wonders of their surroundings. This enchanting sight typically occurs around eighteen to twenty-four days after their birth.

With each passing moment, the young raccoons grow stronger and more adventurous. They embark upon their own playful journeys, discovering the realm around them. In a mere span of four to six weeks, these remarkable creatures find their footing and embark on their first steps, exploring the world with their tiny paws. Oh, the marvel of nature’s progression!

Thus, we witness the circle of life unfolding in the raccoon kingdom. From the fervent mating season to the birth of their precious kits and the swift development of these young ones, the raccoons teach us the beauty of growth and the wonder of life’s ever-changing tapestry.

But He Said Not To…

The following email was found in my spam, so the poor guy is probably not getting much traction on his money-making plan. I thought I would post it here. Maybe someone can help the guy out. If you do, maybe he won’t follow through on his threat to ruin me. To bad, I have anti-virus software. I almost feel sorry for him. 😉

****************************

Hi there! I am a professional hacker and have successfully managed to hack your operating system. Currently I have gained full access to your account. In addition, I was secretly monitoring all your activities and watching you for several months. The thing is your computer was infected with harmful spyware due to the fact that you had visited a website with porn content previously. ╭ ᑎ ╮ Let me explain to you what that entails. Thanks to Trojan viruses, I can gain complete access to your computer or any other device that you own. It means that I can see absolutely everything in your screen and switch on the camera as well as microphone at any point of time without your permission. In addition, I can also access and see your confidential information as well as your emails and chat messages. You may be wondering why your antivirus cannot detect my malicious software. Let me break it down for you: I am using harmful software that is driver-based, which refreshes its signatures on 4-hourly basis, hence your antivirus is unable to detect it presence. I have made a video compilation, which shows on the left side the scenes of you happily masturbating, while on the right side it demonstrates the video you were watching at that moment..ᵔ.ᵔ All I need is just to share this video to all email addresses and messenger contacts of people you are in communication with on your device or PC. Furthermore, I can also make public all your emails and chat history. I believe you would definitely want to avoid this from happening. Here is what you need to do – transfer the Bitcoin equivalent of 1250 USD to my Bitcoin account (that is rather a simple process, which you can check out online in case if you don’t know how to do that). Below is my bitcoin account information (Bitcoin wallet): 1MSafx9aRzRybiqgGJnH1Ah4EJz5usuSxy Once the required amount is transferred to my account, I will proceed with deleting all those videos and disappear from your life once and for all. Kindly ensure you complete the abovementioned transfer within 50 hours (2 days +). I will receive a notification right after you open this email, hence the countdown will start. Trust me, I am very careful, calculative and never make mistakes. If I discover that you shared this message with others, I will straight away proceed with making your private videos public. Good luck!

Walking Down Life's Road With Andy