Small Moving Hamburgers

I recently organized a trip to The Wild Animal Sanctuary in Keenesburg, Colorado, and in my reminder e-mail, I felt it necessary to point out that "child" translates as "small moving hamburger" to most of the inhabitants at the Sanctuary, so it is a very good idea to keep a close eye on your snack . . . child . . . whatever.

When we got there, A. was so excited he was shaking. He ran up and down the ramps yelling: "Mommy, mommy, mommy . . . there's a tiger. And another tiger. And another tiger. And a tiger over there! And another tiger!" (Really, you can't imagine 75 tigers until you see . . . well . . . herds of 75 tigers.)

In the educational observatory, A. had the chance to come face to face with a mountain lion . . .

And let's just say that lions are infinitely bigger than you can imagine when they are "up close and personal." I think A. is roughly the size of a lion's front leg. YIKES!

Every time I visit the Sanctuary, I can't help but be amazed by their mission and their message. Pat Craig has created an amazing sanctuary for tigers . . .



and bears . . .



and birds . . .


(Okay . . . the birds just happened to fly overhead. But, it's a beautiful sky, isn't it?)

Even if you can't visit (and I sincerely hope you can) - even if you can't donate (we all know what it is like when money is tight) . . . if you spread the word that this Sanctuary exists . . . you have played a part in saving these animals. I honestly believe that it is not an issue of people not caring . . . it is an issue of people not knowing. . .

"Saving one animal will not save the world . . . but surely for that one animal . . . the world will change forever."

The Sound A Dream Makes

The box makes a click.
Insignificant.

Lost, as the whirring
of a sparrow's wings in a crackling
sun-scorched field.

There is a shadow,
and a smile,
white, like bones.

The voice -
curls up in the throat,
inarticulate.

The question
echoes out of emptiness.

A dry cough.
A rattle of dust.

That is the sound a dream makes,
when it dies.

A. Inherited My Teeth! WOO HOO!

Of all the strange things to celebrate . . . . A. has wisely chosen to inherit my teeth. He survived his first dental visit with flying colors - especially since he was allowed to play with plush frogs and a stuffed hermit crab while I got my teeth cleaned . . . and then was given a blue latex glove to play with after he let the dentist poke around in his mouth. (The dentist gave me all the appropriate warnings about suffocation hazards, skin allergies, ingestion of latex powder, etc.). The glove was safely hidden in my purse within ten minutes . . . but A. sure enjoyed it while he had it!

And A. has enamel! He actually has enamel!

T. and T.'s mother both have a genetic defect regarding the enamel on their teeth. Namely, they don't have any. By the time T.'s mother hit her late 20's, she had to have every tooth pulled - and the only reason T. has kept his teeth as long as he has is due to a series of painful shots and flouride treatments from the time he was a toddler. I was not looking forward to putting A. through any of those regiments.

And now I don't have to. WHEW!

Frogs and Aquariums

Love me, love my fishies. I, like many others, have fallen to the charm of having an aquarium in my life - although I still draw the line at anything that involves adding salt and/or will die if the power goes out for a few hours (no joke - the lady who runs my daycare purchased a gigantic salt-water aquarium set-up at a garage sale for approximately $50. The prior owners confided they had sunk over $2,000 into fish - and were selling the tank because they were heart-sick that their investment went belly up during a power outage).

I recently upgraded from a little 3-gallon aquarium to the deluxe 12-gallon model, which took much effort, thought, and furniture rearranging to achieve. Did I mention I live in a box? And not just any box . . . a box filled with a surplus of furniture. For those who have never had an aquarium, water is HEAVY . . . and once an aquarium is filled, the chances that you will be able to lift, shove, and/or move it in any other manner are very very slim (at least not without considerable water damage to your furnishings and/or a broken aquarium and dying fishies) - so aquarium location is a serious consideration. Fishies don't like sun. They don't like drastic temperature fluctuations. Most of them don't like to be in busy areas where people are constantly passing by . . . it sets off all the little panicky prey parts of their brain. All in all, fishies are finicky little critters.

I used to wonder what they were thinking. But then the obvious dawned on me. "Food?" Then a moment later: "Food?" And, of course, upon the addition of food to the aquarium, their little brains overload: "Food? . . . Food? . . . Food! Food! Food! Food? . . . "

They call me the beta-whisperer.

And then, we added a frog. One of those cute little aquatic frogs that you see on the day you add it to the aquarium, and then always wonder if it died and got sucked up the air filter. So far, I haven't removed a froggy from the filtration system . . . so I think he's doing just fine . . . although I'm not sure if the other entities sharing the aquarium could be trusted not to eat the body. After all, it goes without saying that all words in fishy-language: Friend, Enemy, Random Plants, Water Specks, etc. can be loosely translated as "food." Eat first. Spit it out if you don't want it. If you don't remember eating it, eat it again. Repeat until it gets lost in the aquarium gravel or someone else eats it.

But I'm wandering off my point. Yes, I actually have a point.

Okay, I don't have a point. But I meant to tell the story about my frog. Namely it's food. Namely that I bought the frog and forgot to ask what it eats. Oops.

So three days later, I wander into Petsmart and ask the lady manning the fishy aquariums what in the heck the little critters eat. I always vaguely assumed they subsisted off the bits of food that managed to fall onto the aquarium gravel . . . but I certainly didn't want to starve the poor thing to death. After I admitted that I had already purchased a frog and had not exactly been feeding it, I endured a rather dubious look from the Petsmart fish expert, who was probably weighing my doubtful intelligence against the chance of bodily harm if she inadvertently offended me. Prudence won out.

"Ummm . . . sometimes they eat flakes," she said (an obvious attempt to agree with me and not let on that she thought my IQ was only slightly higher than the live plants in the aquarium behind her). "But not . . . um . . . not really often. Actually, we sort of recommend . . . well . . . blood worms."

Say, what? Excuse me. I thought she just said blood worms. Ha ha. Oh, look. We're walking toward a freezer. Never noticed that before. Crap. I think she was serious.

This is the horrifying point in my story where I find out that blood-worms come in miniature ice-cube trays that you store in your freezer. They are also helpfully marked "Not for human consumption."

When, in all the long history of my aquarium ownership, did I forget to put down that anything that must be fed any item containing the word "worm" - was on the "do not import on penalty of me yacking quite violently in the toilet" list? I mean, honestly . . . how do you explain it to guests? "Oh, don't mind the blood worms in the freezer. I use them to feed the invisible aquatic frog. The one you never see."

No wonder the little booger is in hiding. Frogs, unlike fish, apparently have a sense of humor about this whole "food" thing.

Fourth of July and Microsoft Word

What can I say . . . except the dry lightning storm is out-performing all the fireworks. Callie-cat (my little tortoiseshell who hates thunder) is non-plussed . . . and even the little man isn't quite sure what to make of all the hullabaloo. He started telling T. and I that he was afraid of "eagles" - which we finally figured out was his word for the fireworks. Poor little dude. Next year we will have to be extra sure to explain the Fourth of July to him - and maybe go to a fireworks show so he understands what all the noise is about.

Over all - good food, good fun, good friends. Good Fourth.

My amusing story for the evening:

T. and I recently purchased a new computer. The IT guy at work told me not to waste my money purchasing Microsoft Office. Our company has an agreement whereby employees can pay $25 for an "at home" license, which allows use of the software until you are no longer an employee. IT told me I could choose between Microsoft Word 2003 and 2007 - which led to the following conversation with T.

T: "Let's get Microsoft 2007. It's newer, so it has to be better, right?"
M: "Umm," I said. "It might be different."
T: "What do you mean?"
M: "I don't know. I've never seen it before. But it might be . . . different."
T: "Let's get 2007."
M: "Okay."

Insert a few days while we wait for the software package to arrive. T. gleefully loaded it onto the computer . . . and came to find me.

T: "Umm . . . I can't find print. Thank goodness Ctrl+P still works."

We spent the next 15 minutes trying to find Print (you have to click on a weird Microsoft Icon thingamabob at the top left-hand corner). The lesson being . . . Microsoft likes to mess with your head. On the bright side, this program will eventually roll out at work - and I don't mind having a head-start on the learning curve!

Happy 4th to all! I am headed to bed. With any luck, the firecrackers will stop by 3:00 a.m.

What Japanese Smiley Character Are You?

I have no idea what this means. All I can say is this was the wonkiest quiz I ever took.

You are "Face with Glasses"

What Japanese Smiley Are You?

Too Many Projects

Is it possible for your cup to be both full and empty?

I have finally come to the conclusion that I truly, seriously, really, honestly, this time I mean it for reals, need to take a hard look at my life and get rid of those activities that are sucking energy without replenishing any. On the other hand, in an effort to revive some vestige of the energy and enjoyment I get out of my hobbies, I have re-started all of them at once.

No one ever accused me of being overly brilliant :P I had an Uncle once who inferred quite the opposite. Then again, I'd be smart enough to get my prostate cancer operated on . . . so I think we're even.

Blogging is sporadic as I communicate with M. and a few others and try to assist in the creation of a Japanese self-study group. My Muse has been clamoring for attention . . . which has resulted in an additional 2,000 words to the end of my NanoWriMo novel (I hereby nickname that project Winds). But starting all of these projects at once means my attention resembles rainfall in Colorado - here one second, gone the next, and no idea if it'll come back . . . ever. A lot of new interests means little progress in any one of them. But if it begins to replenish the energy in my cup . . . it will be worth it. My cup isn't just empty . . . the liquid ran out, the heat was still on, the cracks began forming, and I'm somewhere between a really nasty burner mark and a sheer split.

On the other hand . . . it is in times of adversity that things come sharply into perspective, and I am getting a better idea of what is important to me in this Life - and there is definitely something to be said for the ability to prioritize my future goals.

Meh.

Many folks comment on my strength . . . but sometimes I feel like a katana that has been folded in fire 10,000 times. Wasn't 9,999 enough? Really?

Oyasuminasai!