Skunk!

   
      I was walking up the dirt path to my car in the dark and I just about walked into a skunk. I saw something turn and look at me and then hiss. I jumped back in a panic to get away from it. I had a feeling it was a skunk, but I couldn't be sure. Maybe it was a possum. There was only time enough to move away from it. 
      The skunk didn't even have time to turn around and spray me. I ran away. He ran away. We were both scared for different reasons. I gave the skunk time to get some distance and then made for my car. I saw him running down the street. He was still scared. I was lucky I didn't get sprayed.

The Trick

      

      On more than one occasion I've been woken from a deep sleep by the sound of a coyote killing its prey. Coyotes have different techniques for killing, but it's almost always based on deception. A coyote will figure out the habits of an animal. Raccoons walk the same trail at dusk; possums forage for food in the same general area.  

      The other night I heard a killing. A coyote and a possum. The coyote waited for the possum to make his rounds, and when the possum did, he snatched him up. He barely had to move. He was standing right there waiting for him.

      As killings go, it was peaceful, cooperative, and without much fuss. It felt like the animals were mindful that people were trying to sleep. 

      Nature is not without tragedy that's for sure. Survival by design is a trick. A rattlesnake is made to look like dirt and rocks.  

      And the spirit world seems is no different. It tricks and confuses just the same. You ask for one thing and you get something else, and then write it off as god's will. And then ask again for what you wanted in the first place. 

      Of course life's not always a trick, just once in a while. But those once-in-a-whiles can really mess up your day. 

      

     

Baseball Signs

      I told the proprietor we should start using baseball signs to order. That way he wouldn't have to walk all the way to my table to take my order. 
      If I touch my ear that means burrito. If I touch my nose afterwards that means carnitas. And so forth. 
      He seemed mildly amused by my suggestion. I caught him at a bad time. He looked tired and low on patience. 
      I still think it's a good idea. 

Chaps

      I guess what I'm trying to say is, if you wear a pair of chaps in public with no underwear, don't complain about people staring at your ass. 

The Patch

     I have a bald patch on my head. It's a big round area just above my ear where my hair fell out. It's a temporary condition. It happened to me once before, but the last time, the bald spot was at the back of my head. My hair eventually grew back, so I'm not too worried about it this time.
     I make sure to cover the patch with the hair that I have left. It's spooky looking. It's ghost white, and smooth to the touch. I haven't shown it to many people to save myself from their reaction. I figure they might think it's worse than it is. 
     Sometimes before I go out I'll paint mascara on it to blend it in. And I'm careful not to run my fingers through my hair when I'm talking to somebody. I'm vain that way. I just don't want anybody to know about it. 
     But, now that I've written this blog and told the whole world, I'm sure it will come up in conversation and I'll have to pull my hair back and show off the spot.
      

Wood Update

     
       This is a follow up to my last blog.
       I walked up the hill during the day to the house with the free wood. There was no new wood, just concrete mix. The mix felt like a brick so I left it behind.
       I noticed warning signs on the house where the little dog barked. They said WARNING 24 HOUR SERVEILLANCE CAMERAS. I looked for the cameras, but I didn't see any.
       Later in the day I saw an old Chinese woman walking with an umbrella in one hand and a 2x4x8 in the other. I admired her mid-day stroll, and wondered where she got the wood. 
       

Beware Of The Small Dog

         
           I'm building a bathhouse. Most of the wood I've used has come from scrap piles from construction sites and wood I found on the street. I did buy some 2x4s to build the walls, but other than that, I've built it from discarded materials.
           The other day I spotted a pressure treated 2x8x8 in front of a house. I was driving by and saw it laying near the street in front of a gate. I stopped my car to get a good look at it. I was eyeing it when a man popped up from the far end of the garage roof and looked at me. He was working on the roof, and was hidden from view until he stood up. I waved to him and sped away. He didn't wave back. Maybe he wanted to keep the wood. I didn't know. It was a dubious situation.
           A contractor has been working on the house. I'm thinking when the contractor's finished with his work the house is going to be flipped. I'd found some nice pieces of old growth wood that was ripped out of the interior of the house days before.
            That night I woke up at three in the morning and couldn't get back to sleep. I read for a while, but come about four-thirty I decided to walk up the hill to see if the pressure treated wood was still there. It was. I snatched it without much fuss. I was walking away when a small dog from a house across the street started to bark. For a moment I was afraid somebody was going to wake up and look out the window, but I quickly realized that no one was going to get out of bed to see what the dog was barking at. Small dogs bark all the time.              
            So there I was walking down the street with a 2x8x8 underneath my arm. I was carrying it like a surfboard and hoping no cars drove by. I was going to to ditch the wood by the curb if I saw headlights. 
             It was a peaceful morning. There wasn't much going on, but I could still hear cars in the distance driving on the freeway. That's a sound that never stops in LA.