An owl and a squirrel are having a heated discussion outside my office window. Something about a branch, but that’s all I’ve been able to make out. I don’t think they speak the same language, but apparently, whatever Owl is saying, it’s petrifying Squirrel. He’s yelling back, but even I can tell he’s paralyzed with fear. He hasn't blinked (assuming quirrels blink) or moved. Owl, on the other hand, appears to be washing his face and filing his nails.
Gawd, how I love living in the woods! Well, when the bugs and the bees and the mosquitos and the poison ivy have given up for the season, that is. And the birds stop flying into my upstairs window. Talk about sad. And disgusting. But it has explained the gray and white cat who wants nothing to do with me but loves my front door.
When I go out said front door here at the condo, I’m young again. I’ve recently been invited to “The Supper Club”, a group of retired ladies who meet for dinner every Wednesday evening at 5:30. Kind of late, I know. But it actually sounds like fun and I can pretend to be spry and interesting for an hour.
I’m also excited about the procedures around these suppers. According to the undocumented instructions, I am simply to stand outside in the circle until a car drives by and picks me up (thinking the mailman situation in Funny Farm).
When all of us ladies are in the car, we talk destination. On busy days, I've been told that another car may be required. In these cases, one of the "extras" will volunteer to drive her car and the first car will stop at the second car where the destination discussion will take place. It’s all very hip, very loose, very sixties and I dig it.
But now that I type this, I hope they’re not pulling some prank on the new gal. They don’t know me that well. I might stand out there for quite some time waiting on a trip to food. I won’t think about this anymore.
The picture is not where we are now – it was taken in winter 2003, I believe – but, trust me, her life o’ troubles is about the same.Sabrina has made so many new friends. There’s Mollie and Bear and MyMy and Millie and Jack and Bruiser. There’s a lady we run into a lot on our walks who calls her Samantha, but Sabrina responds anyway. We don’t say anything, because it might only matter in an emergency and Sabrina doesn't really doemergencies anyway.
Squirrel caved. Owl won and now won't stop hooting in a really snotty way. Poor sportsmanship, if you ask me. Sabrina's snoring, and I'm on my own for dinner tonight.
It’s been a good little day today.