Farewell Diamond

My father called this morning, when he knew I would still be sleeping, to tell me my cat died last night. I was relieved that she wasn't attacked or sick, but simply died in her sleep. She was a very old cat. I remember holding her when she was kitten and I was about 3. That made her 16 when she finally went to sleep and never woke up. She was a barn cat and an excellent mouser. I named her Diamond, because the way she had different colors of brown in her coat reminded me a scene from the Rescuers when a flashlight hits a diamond. It will be strange to feed the animals without her trailing after me.

Best Presidents' Day by far

Over 800 miles in four days
In a wet and moldy car
With a friend I see every day
To visit a friend we haven't seen in a while

The CD player was annoying
Lisa read aloud from Unreasonable Behaviour
I tried to turn up her volume
It did not work

I had Irish cream
But not in coffee
To celebrate St. Paddy's Day
He is better than St. Valentine

After grilled cheese, we visited the ocean
Played in the waves and on the rocks
Then looked at Tom Cruise while eating burritos
Before learning where the blood will be

We ate ice cream at Billy's
And felt like small children
But we beat Oregon
And later mocked a stupid truck

I visited home
To de-mold my car
So my friends could visit my farm
Where a goat skull greeted us

Later there were guns and a goose
Thumbless emus and a green egg
We visited the bone yard
My father offered Jacob a cow pelvis

We began our return early
Got giant pancakes at The Rusty Tractor
Lisa took someone's drink (by accident)
Adventure over, we made it back in time for work

Three-day Weekend Summary

Friday - I went to the midnight Nuthouse show. A left particularly pleased with many of the references made. Yes there were the traditional excrement, sex, and Star Wars jokes, but there were also references to 1984, The Great Gatsby, and The Scarlet Letter. My favorite was an entire steam of dialogue about Operation Market Garden. My final group HOTA project was an over the top Operation Market Garden sock puppet show. There were parachute men, dry ice, and fake accents. It was marvelous.

Saturday - I had a strange dream where my house and family were in the middle of a war zone. I don't know who we were fighting. It might have been my uncle's family on the hill, but that doesn't make sense because my family would win that war no problem. My father and I escaped the war scene only to begin a hunt for a white Bengal tiger in our forest. We found the tiger but my father didn't shoot it fast enough, so it attacked him. I woke up just after I started beating the tiger on the head with a big stick.

Sunday - I watched a show on Animal Planet about a theme park/zoo called Tiger Island. Aren't coincidences fun?

Monday - No school because of Veterans Day but I had work for newspaper. My news meeting went well and other than that the day was rather uneventful.

What Do You Do?

Who are we to say that what one culture does is wrong? When I see things like this though, it makes my heart hurt. But as a biological anthropologist I need to be neutral. Things that may seem cruel to us might be perfectly normal in another culture and vice-versa. I can't help being conflicted inside. Should we, people who can create change, interfere with the practices of other cultures if we view them as wrong? Or, should we do nothing because every culture is different and we do not rule the world? But, aren't cultures supposed to change and evolve? What do we do? What is right?

More observations from yours truly

I like my TA's old haircut much better than her new one. (The class has me so engaged that this is what I think about.)

Today, a discussion turned debate about the best way to raise children, seemed a bit irrelevant when the class is an introduction to communication technology.

Further extending the metaphor about newspapers being like eating ice cream cones, constantly seeing phantom drips coming off my cone is like having newspaper dreams.

If the class understands what the informal logical fallacy of division is after two examples, the class probably still understands after example five. Stopping after example two would have been appreciated. (Not to mention a better use of class time.)

The newsroom fish, Woodstein, does not seem overly fond of the rubber ducky I put in his bowl.

Flushed Away

I never thought Jacques would come to mean much to me. I never really had a desire for a fish; I bought him on a whim. He wasn't the prettiest beta, more of a dull pink than a vibrant blue or red. He almost never became mine. I was interested in a small sapphire blue female when the swish of his tail caught my eye. I grabbed his plastic cup and he immediately proceeded to throw himself against the edge of his container like he was having a seizure. He was a psychotic fish. I knew he belonged with me.

I bought him a few plastic plants and an octopus holding a sign reading, "No Fishing." The first few days were a bit strenuous. I learned betas can puff out their necks much like a frilled lizard or cobra snake. He didn't like light, fingers, or pencils. He puffed up at them all. After a while, we got used to each other. Last year, while I sat at my computer working on homework, I could look out of the corner of my eye and see Jacques watching me. It was as much comfort as a fish can offer.

As I was preparing for bed this evening, I went to tell Jacques goodnight. I tapped on his bowl as I often do. He was sitting on the pebbles at the bottom as he often does. Tap. Tap. Tap. Slowly, his body floated to the top of the water. His fins were still, eyes glazed over.

He had already survived two nearly fatal accidents. Our cat at home tipped over his travel cup, then pounced on him, and as I was preparing him for his journey back to school, I poured him down the sink. Luckily, he got caught in the drain. I was so shocked tonight to see his spunk had finally run out.

Jacques is gone now. I can only hope, gone to a better place where the bowls are bigger and there are no pencils or sinks or cats. I feel guilty about his passing. I don't think he knows I did become fond of him. Lately I've been spending much more time with the newsroom fish. The newsroom is where I do my homework now. Jacques had no one to connect with. I left him with only Ollie his octopus for company. I was busy, but I didn't forget.

I never thought Jacques would come to mean much to me. He was just a fish after all, something I could never envision myself becoming attached to. But over time he wasn't just a fish to me. He was my first fish, my big-lipped study buddy. He was a comfort. I'll miss seeing him perk up when I tap his bowl. I'll miss him watching me work.

Jacques was a good fish. Slightly neurotic perhaps, but that made him all the more endearing. All future aquatic pets shall be judged against him.

It's going to be a good day.

A bee landed on my arm as I walked to the office today. I felt the smallest prickle of its tiny legs on my arm. It did not sting me, just sat for a second and was then on its way. It made me feel lucky.

Only moments later, a flash on the ground caught my attention. It was not a heads-up penny, but an entire quarter. Bright and shiny, Washington faced me. I'd already had my luck for the day so I left it on the ground for someone else to discover. I hope it makes them happy.

Fire and Spines

Today a jitney a.k.a. fork lift caught on fire. No one was hurt. There was more smoke than flame and a fire extinguisher was deployed almost immediately.

I came home from that excitement to find that our dogs had gotten into a fight with a porcupine. My father is pulling spines out of their snouts as I write this. I was kicked out of the room because I kept flinching. It looks quite painful and I am very sorry for them.

A Bug Hunt

I'm often surprised at how easily I fit right into my roles at home even though I've been gone for many moons. One of these roles includes being the go-to person for homework help.

Thus, early this morning before the sun got too high, I could be found running around in our fields of Camus and cattle with my younger sister. We were chasing insects for her collection due on Tuesday.

We made quite a few good catches. We caught several butterflies and beetles. We collected various species of flies and bees. Her collection has come together rather nicely I think. Now she just has to look up the common name, genus, and species of each insect.

Some of my favorite finds were the spit bug (which we caught because it got stuck to my shoe), the Lorquin's Admiral butterfly which I caught by a mad dash through sticker bushes (bad activity to wear shorts for), and the capture of what looks to be a miniature grasshopper. My sister really wanted a swallowtail butterfly, but alas, they continued to allude us and remained out of reach of our net. The other 30 insects just aren't quite satisfying enough for her.

Bird of Prey

On Monday I was at home and my mom and I were out in the back yard. I was sitting on the trampoline and she was gardening. She decided to bring our guinea pig, Miles, outside with us to run around. She really doesn't run around, she just waddles around right next to where we are. Anyways, I was sitting there watching her when I heard the birds suddenly start chirping all at once. This made me think about how at Shasta, where all the Greek folks go every year, people were getting their little dogs snatched off their boats by eagles. When I first heard about this I laughed a little because little dogs are annoying, but then I thought about how I would feel if something like that happened to my dog and realized it must be horrific. Then I realized that Miles was in the grass and we have hawks around our place. So, I got up and sat down on the grass right next to her. Sure enough as I sat down I saw a hawk circling really close. Then he started flying towards me and Miles. "Look Mom," I yelled. Then I picked up Miles and held her close to me. "Whoa," she said. Then I told her the Shasta story.

We both couldn't believe it. Hawks never come that close to the house. He flew away a few minutes later, but I was paranoid so I just stayed on the ground right next to her. A little bit later as I was sitting on the ground I saw two more hawks circling pretty high right above me. It was nuts! He had brought in reinforcements! "See that shovel right there," I said to my mom, "if they come any closer I'm going to whack them with it...and I'm going to mean it." She said " You really think you can take two hawks with a shovel?" "Watch me," I said, "Plus you're here and you have a pitch fork." Not wanting to fight, I took Miles back into the house. It was pretty weird.

Moo Moo

I'm not sure if I've mentioned this before, but I live on a farm out in the country. We have quite the array of animals: the traditional cows, horses, rabbits, and chickens in addition to the more exotic emus, guinea hens, and peacocks. Currently, we are bottle feeding three baby calves. Each is a different age so each receives a different amount of milk and of course all three eat at different paces. As they are all in the same pen, they must be fed at exactly the same time. When the first finishes you must keep it occupied so it doesn't steal milk from the other two. This is most easily accomplished by letting the calf suck on your fingers. I have milked cows and goats before. I have also bottle fed calves numerous times before, but never more than one calf at a time. Thus, this was the first time I have had a calf suck on my fingers. It feel like something sucking on your finger, no surprise there. But just so you know, calf spit is like the super spit of spits. It's not just saliva, but it's a more mucousy substance. It puts a rather gross coating on your finger that takes a few washes to get off. Still, I have decided that this is an experience everyone should have at least once. Next time you run into a calf, don't let the opportunity pass you by.

Under Da Sea

The connections I have with the water and the sea are actually quite numerous. Well, not so numerous, but the few that exist are interestingly ironic. I recently made a connection between something I've been able to do for a long time and ocean life...

I can plug my nose with my upper lip (no jokes please). This talent is very handy for swimming because it prevents water from rushing up my nose, which is a nuisance. Yes, many of my fellow swimmers have been jealous of this and I utilize it as much as possible. For example, say I'm walking down the hallway and I start to get a whiff of an unpleasant odor (which happens frequently in dorms) all I have to do is pucker my upper lip and the smell is gone. Other people might have to use their hands or endure the unpleasantness, but not me.

A common question is "How do you breathe?" Simple. I part my lips slightly and breathe, while still holding my upper lip in place to block out the smell. Now, I don't do this while swimming because my breathing is a lot more frequent, so I usually only plug my nose during a flip turn or while kicking underwater.

The connection I made with my talent to the ocean is that whales have blowholes, which serve a similar purpose as my plugging my nose. This is indeed anomalous.