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Shakesthegrounds Rumblings

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Shakesthecoffecan:
I stood at my kitchen window this morning, it is a window of revelation sort of because many things have come to me while gazing out of it. My revelation this morning is that the one of the birds I have been feeding is extrememly angry with itself. It sits on the drivers side door frams and attacks its reflection in the mirror. In its excitment you know what else it does.

No good deed goes unrewarded.

I also have been watching a small chip munk that comes out to eat the spilled seed on the ground. A couple of years ago when I had cats that would not have been possible. I think I prefer these low maintenance pets, I can leave for a couple of days an not worry so much about their being fed, they know what to do.

Scott6373:
The bird thing?  All I can say is...have we himan beings psychologically damaged even nature itself?  We've ven given birds complexes.

Shakesthecoffecan:
Well some of them maybe, the bigger birds like to attack their reflection, but the sweet little cute ones don't.  :-X

Shakesthecoffecan:
He had done mixed up the cake mix from the yellowed, stained index card covered with his recently deceased aents handwriting. His son had done cracked open the coconut with claw end of a hammer on the counter top.

Went I heard the funny noise I got on my cell phone and called them in the basement and told them: "The stove is making a funny noise"

At midnight they decided the breaker in the breakerbox was bad. He left out at first light hunting a new breaker on Thanksgiving day. They were no place to get one open. He called me up and asked could he come get one of mine. My first thoughts were: "Like a kidney transplant?"

He had the old one in his pocket and he said this would work. They looked nothing alike but he knew more about this stuff than I did. My drop in range sits in the kitchen like a lifeless relic and the breaker did not fit his box.

However, when they old one was reinstalled, it worked. Perhaps a bad connection, perhaps a symptom if something worse.

The Coconut cake sits on the green glass cake server, dripping a sugary glaze not seen since way the hell back in the last century. The survivors gather round it in awe, in rememory, in amazement this bit of her has come back.  The Aent had written her name on both sides of the folding table we sit at, so as there is no doubt whose it is. I start to see whats going on.

The written word is sacred, be it in the bound pages of a book, on a computor screen, or a soiled index card. One whose author may have neglected to put down you have to let them ingrediants ferment in the refrigerator overnight to make that cake with cake flour be the thing of beauty it is.

I think of the aent, and hear Michelle Williams' tormented Alma voice in my head: "There wa'nt nothin' wrong with them breakers."

   

Shakesthecoffecan:
Yesterday I went to the funeral of a 86 year old lady who had been the sister of my aunt and a friend of my mother's. I did not know her very well, had a few conversation with her. Was always amazed by her looks, caked on face and perfectly quaffed hair, she reminded me a bit of Dear Abby.

So I was not particularly emotional at this gathering, until we stood to sing "How Great Thou Art" (words and music by Carl Boberg and R.J. Hughes) and the second verse came out of no where like a dump truck:

"When through the woods, and forest glades I wander,
And hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees.
When I look down, from lofty mountain grandeur
And see the brook, and feel the gentle breeze."

It triggered my Brokeback pain, our boys comming down from the mountain, and I cried and cried, and felt bad about who I was crying for at this fine lady's funeral.

It was a good reality check, by the end of the service no one was not crying. I was glad to emerge back into a beautiful warm fall day. I told me cousin who is a wiccan,  if she comes to my funeral, not to hide her pentagram in her dress. We both laughed then, from our own seperate closets.

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