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.

Why is there a “Frozen Toast” button on my toaster?  When it goes in, it is not toast and when it comes out it is not frozen?  Was there concern a “Cold/Frozen Bread” button would have caused greater concern?  What if it is a frozen bagel or something? (Please note there is a “Frozen Bagel” as well.)  What if you are toasted an English muffin?

As I woke up this morning (or maybe it was Saturday), the neighbor across the street had moved their entire garage out on their driveway.  After waffling on the garage-sale/not-garage-sale decision for a moment, the generic signed posted on a stake confirmed what was going on.  (Not to mention the VW bug, for sale with its mouth open at the front of the driveway.)

While normally this might be a reason to rejoice as my daughters and wife anticipate something new and cheap for their mutual enjoyment, there are a couple of things I have considered/witnessed–both long and short range.

• The ethnic population common is the southwest is VERY committed to seeking out deals at garage sales.  (They have also been seen as committed to cruising the streets of nice neighborhoods on trash days before the trucks arrive.)  With my office facing the street, I have seen a constant flow of deal seekers.  And, most of them appear to be of this ethnic descent.  I applaud them for being actively involved in finding the deal.  And, if it is a nice Saturday morning, why not?  To be perfectly clear, a wide variety of people do attend garage sales.  The little old ladies may come later in the day, but they have missed all of the real deals.  The early risers, based on my observations, were mostly ethnic. They apparently just have the energy and enthusiasm to get the better deals.
• The nature of bargain hunters finds them looking over the deals. If nothing seeks their fancy, they leave quickly.   Since they are likely very proficient in the etiquette of garage sale aficionados, the garage sellers is not offended with those potential customers who drop in for the deal and drop out just as quickly.  The neighbors of the family holding the garage sale may view the activities of the attendees differently.  I have watched a couple traffic jams get sorted out.  The deal seekers find our street as merely an obstacle to them finding a great deal.  Parking is an obstacle preventing them from getting to their deal more quickly.  They block driveways, mailboxes, and park off of the curb multiple feet.  Nothing should prevent them from getting in and out quickly…that is unless a neighbor’s driveway gets blocked!  If a neighbor came back from breakfast and if this neighbor has a reputation of being rather cranky, then he may not handle the extra visitors to our fair lane very neighborly.  He might even double park in the street blocking all traffic flow until the squatters cleared his path to his driveway in an unobstructed way.  Fortunately, I am not this resident.  Although I have watched someone who is in this category.
• Driving behind one of these bargain hunters when they discover the sign pointing into your neighborhood is also one of the added benefits.  They have been known to cut across two lanes of traffic to get into the right turn lane.  Once they turn, their driving is almost cloud like as they float through the neighborhood following wherever the signs might lead them.
• Lastly, with the neighbor across the street having a garage sale and with the neighbor at the end of the street being only a few weeks removed from a garage sale, I wondered if these empty-nesters might be planning a mass movement out of our cozy corner of the world.  (On one side of us they have lived about a year.  The other side has their youngest graduating this year.)  As I look over the horizon, I also see what a kid-less house might look like.  I can’t blame them, and a little fresh blood might bring some renewed excitement to a rather dull street.
• Our driveway has not been blocked, but I continue to wonder if a blocked mailbox is an acceptable excuse written with a footnote of the mail carrier manual.  “Neither snow nor rain nor sleet will prevent us from delivering your mail.**”  The footnote just might allow the mail carrier to take a selective holiday as the street is deemed “more chaotic than a snow storm” or whatever excuse is allowed for within the manual.
• Following a successful, semi-successful, or complete failure of a garage sale, the “what do we do with it now” part of the sale takes place.  When the deals don’t go quite low enough or when the item is either to ugly or dated, the items must either become a treasured possession again or disposed of.  Depending on the decision made, the children or friends of the ex-garage sellers made leave loaded with gifts.  What fails to be adopted at this stage, graduates to a possible home with “Goodwill” or one of many other charities that periodically send out trucks to pick up people’s “near junk”.  Lastly, the items deemed of no further value are relegated to the curb as they anticipate spending their final moments looking out of the back of a trash truck–awaiting the final embrace from the compacter.

**-but maybe a garage sale with excessively inconsiderate parking