Magic Dust

Monday, I awoke to the most fascinating weather phenomenon, I have witnessed in my ten years on this planet. I looked out the window and discovered our neighborhood covered in a thin layer of white powder. I’ve never seen anything like it. I thought perhaps we had been pranked, and the neighborhood teenagers had sprinkled several tons of table salt on our yard, cars, deck.

Not to be restrained indoors, I insisted on investigating. It’s my household duty to check out potentially hazardous situations and protect my humans from the dangers of high blood pressure. I was shocked at the willingness of my humans to allow me outdoors. Usually, when you do something for the good of others, they fight and argue every step of the way.

Imagine my surprise when I walked onto the deck and discovered it wasn’t salt at all. It didn’t stick to the bottom of my feet the way salt or even powdered sugar does. And the taste? it was kind of bland, not at all what I expected.

I wasn’t the only one perplexed by this mysterious white powder. Later in the evening, we had an anonymous visitor surveying the situation. The visitor seemed interested in more than just snow, being the footsteps led to the door.

After a thorough investigation, I deduced the white powder might be snow. It was highly reactive to changes in temperature and direct sunlight. I had heard if snow before, though I had never experienced personally. In our old neighborhood, it was the subject of local legends, people frequently spoke of it when the temperature dipped below freezing, but few had witnessed more than a flurry in the last decade.

I was beginning to think snow in the south was nothing more than local legend designed to entice young children into falling asleep in hopes school would canceled the following morning for a snow day. Maybe snow is like Santa; it’s real if you believe. Though I suspect if it were that simple, Maggie and Nancy would cease believing in any form of frozen precipitation.

A Gratuitous Post about Lesser Known Occupants of the Home

That’s right, the denizens of the Raccoon Sushi Bar.

SOMEONE has more than a passing fling with the fish pond. It’s more like an obsession than your typical human fish relationship. So, maybe she hasn’t actually named all the pond fish, an accurate indicator for fish affection. She TALKS to the fish, and remarkably, they respond in kind. The nibble at her finger tips and bump against her hands as she tends to the filter.

Most of the inhabitants are goldfish. Comets to be more specific. These are hearty fish and survive well outdoors, even in freezing temperatures. In colder zones, people are known to bring their fish indoors to winter in aquariums (snow fish?), but that isn’t necessary for this zone. Our pond also houses a shubunkin and three koi.

This is the newest arrival. He (she?) is a small koi resembling the Kohaku variety. For those part, these fish don’t exhibit the desirable characteirstics that make them attractive to breeders, in other words, we have the heinz 57’s of the koi community. But these fish have heart and personality, though one is missing its scales.

Eventually, enough plants were procured so the pond would appear only slightly less artificial than it appeared during its first weeks. This by no means adequately mimics nature, the fish don’t seem too bothered, and the bees enjoy using it as a drinking fountain.

Eventually the small pond and abundance of hearty water lily specimens created a dilemma. The pond was too small to accommodate two water lily varieties and a fountain….so I small bucket for a deck water garden was procured.

This was to house two small comets and a pink grapefruit water lily. Strangely, the inhabitants of this small pond were granted names. Ms Chica named these fish after the One Eyes, since they constantly chase and nag one another. That whole lifetime commitment gig has strings attached to it.

Today, the Mister called out to Ms Chica, “Do you want to see your goldfish?” She asked if they were dead, as Mister Hombre seldom inquires about the fish. He replied, ‘No,” so she dutifully walked out to the deck to inspect the One Eyes, but she couldn’t see them immediately, as the ice was too thick.

As for me, I’m developing a god complex. It isn’t everyday I have the opportunity to display my superiority over mankind by walking on water.

Poetry Friday: Fight

Two posts in twenty-four hours?

Poetry Friday delivered on Friday?

WTF, is with you Patches? Crap, I’m talking to myself.

Fall is falling and well the weather is nasty. Well, anyhoo…It’s friday, and the lovely Mona has presented us with the word, fight. I don’t have much experience in the fighting department. I will resort to aggressive tactics when I feel I am being ignored, but not all out violence. Battle of wits? Count me in.

A few interpretations of fight:

The Nothing Fight:

The Pillow Fight:

And of course the Cat Fight:

Poetry Friday Monday: Perspiration

Greetings all! I hope everyone had a lovely weekend. I didn’t finish my submission in time to post Friday, so Monday will have to do. Feel free, to issue demerits, fine or punish my furry little ass as you see fit. I deserve it. I have been a very, very bad boy.

Mona has declared this weeks word, perspiration. I hope this weeks submission makes you sweat.

Because Life is so Easy to Understand

Once again, I fail to completely grasp happenstance as it relates to human beings. Could someone explain to me how a woman who bruises bumping into furniture and wrestling with extension ladders can fall ass over tea kettle on a pair of roller blades, slide six feet, hands first to a halt, on a roughly paved parking lot, wearing cargo shorts and short sleeves, emerge without road rash?

And bruises? There were two. small ones. One of which was caused by the under wire on a bra, the other, maybe a rock.

What good is a spectacular fall, if you don’t have any battle scars to prove it? Sore ribs and abs aren’t worth shit, if they don’t leave a mark, not to mention, it hurts like hell to laugh at yourself…