The invasion of the squirrels.
Dear 30,
As I lugged the trash bins out to the curb this last night the trees above me swished with the wind, shaking loose some leaves and heaving a garlic bulb sized, green nut from the sky. It pegged the roof of my Honda. Again.
Squirrel heaven, high heel hell. Not sure you can see it, but I promise there are bits of shattered nuts all over. This hefty green one won't last too much longer. By noon it'll be a shell of it's former self.
It's a field of hollowed out walnut casings. Every walk to the curb makes me feel like I'm Catherine Zeta-Jones back-bending, hopping and pirouetting through that maze of lasers in Entrapment. (ish) These squirrels are definitely prepping for a hibernation, which makes me worry they know something I don't about the upcoming winter. With the throngs of hungry squirrels came long sleeves, an in state rivalry game and a neighborhood fall fest. Plus I ran into the Paluch babies twice. I also walked in a parade.
Faces blurred to protect the innocent parade walkers. Note the action shot: capturing a tshirt mid-air. That was going to pesky type-two parade goer.
Parade goers fall into two extremist categories. Type One: those super cute children who's parents brought them to the parade dressed in a Hawkeye cheerleader outfit in an effort to tucker them out in time for an afternoon nap. These kids are in awe of the parade floats and people. They clutch their candy bag with fear and delight. These kids get psyched when a tootsie roll falls near their feet and they usually yell "thank you" in their kid voice. These kids make you smile as a candy throwing parade participant.
Type Two: those parade goers who jazz hand it up, yelling "me me" and "tshirt! tshirt." They run in front of others to snag the sour punch straw (I'm not sure I blame them for this-- damn that candy is good) and pout when the candy doesn't come right to them. These parade goers are usually too old for parade candy grabs. I hesitate saying this, because no one is "too old" for a parade, but if you yell "tshirt! me! me! I'm a kid at heart! candy!" I'm not excited to shower you with sweets. Instead, I accidentally talk to a child walking with me in the parade asking if he's doing alright, or if he needs more candy to toss. These parade goers make you feel bad about humanity in general and worry that greed is infecting the world. (that was intense) And wonder why anyone wants or needs a tshirt from a past event in size XXXL.
I am not about to punch the parrot. Although I semi-hate birds (pigeons especially), I don't wish them any harm. This is not me preparing to right hook. I'm actually clenching my fist in fear. And triple chinning in fear. And voting for Chris Diebel.
Also. I held a bird. Facing a fear isn't always super magical. In this case his Jackie Joyner Kersee nails dug into my collarbone as I closed my eyes, clenched my jaw and wished for the parrot not to peck my neck. Later I heard that parrot squawk "what's up?" It was suggested that this holding of the bird might help me get over my fear, it actually just made me feel nervous, wish this bird's tongue wasn't touching me and contort my face into an unflattering look of terror.
So there you have it. A post ranting about walnuts, fatty squirrels, free t-shirt greed and birds. I think that just about covers it. Glad that's out there for PETA to see. Now. Get out there and have a great week.
xo-LP