THEY’RE BAAAAACK!
Every year for the past decade or so Terre Haute (That’s French for, “I need to wash the car again”) has been the winter camping ground for upwards of 10,000 Crows. When the weather begins to get a bit nippy and the leaves start turning lovely shades of red and gold this city is invaded by a sky-blackening horde of these bad-attitude flying versions of Chase Utley (for non-baseball fans: look him up, then give in to the urge to wash your hands).
THE OTHER MORNING, I and my wife, the lovely and the usually asleep at that hour, Dawn, both got up at about 7 AM. That’s my normal hour, but for Dawn it is not. I am her Organic Alarm Clock, waking her at 8:30 AM most mornings.
IT HAS BEEN A QUIET MORNING.
After stumbling through the process of making tea and doing the crossword puzzle in the newspaper I felt that I was sufficiently conscious to drive to St. Arbucks.
“Oh, great nectar from the mountains of Abyssinia, you awaken my mind and soul to all the wonders and possibilities of God’s creation.”
— From the Gospel of St. Arbucks, Patron Saint of Jittery people.
IN AN EFFORT TO KEEP OUR READERS SAFE and informed today’s blog posting is carrying items from recent Police blotter entries.
We do admit, however, that these particular items might not be all that relevant to you unless you live in or near the city of Unalaska, Alaska.
I WENT TO THE POST OFFICE this morning and I learned something new. Not a something I ever expect to utilize myself in its present form, but you never know.
I have to admit it – despite the fact that there are several inches of snow on the ground just outside our window – I am walking around with a smile on my face. The first sign of Spring has appeared – Baseball Spring Training has begun.
ALL MORNING I HAVE BEEN TRYING to decide what to write about today. I couldn’t think of anything other than getting the laundry done and what to have for lunch. Not exactly topics of great fascination for me and I’m sure even less for you. So, I scooped up my computer and headed down the street to the nearby Chapel of St. Arbucks. St. Arbuck – the patron saint of jittery people.
On the way down an idea landed right in front of me. Actually, about twenty ideas landed – some crows were disassembling a squirrel.
Down the Hall on Your Left 