I was sitting in my kitchen having lunch and looking out over the miles of coastline below me. I could see that the surf was up a bit. The line of white churning of the waves was wider than usual. While the sun was not out, the air was clear from the house down to the water. Except southward, over toward the pali, where clouds obscured the view. It appeared to be raining on the ranch grasslands and around South Point. I’d expected to see nothing but misty-drizzle and fog during my midday repast. It had been very windy, with rain flying sideways onto the lanai all morning. I could hear the howling at the eves, and the machine gun bursts of raindrops on the roof as I spent the first half of the day pounding my keyboard and lashing with my mouse. Frazier, is our seven and a half pound inside dog. He is a Chihuahua-Fox Terrier-Jack Russell mix-breed member of the family. He is a terribly large and fierce protector in his own mind. He has just let me know in his own special way, that someone is coming up the drive. Fed-Ex®, with a package from my wife and life-partner, Marilyn. She is touring in Australia. Hopefully she is gathering new material for a book, or two. Surprisingly that commotion, and stir, did not deter the prompt arrival of one of the locally resident wild turkey. Back again for his / her opportunity to steal a snack from our entrenched colony of cats. Also he / she was back again to check out his / her idealized wild turkey image reflection as seen in the truck bumper. I think that it has become an automatic response for both the cats, the chickens, and this one turkey. I go outside, the cats come galloping from everywhere trying to cajole me into feeding them before dark. If I do, the chickens immediately drive the cats away from the dish, as soon as I’m safely out of sight. The turkey is big enough, she / he just comes straight to the food. I’ve spent most of the afternoon on the telephone. My time eaten, devoured, and eviscerated with one task, from diverse areas of activity, after another. My monitor looks like it is coming down with yellow jack fever from all the Post-Its® adhering to its edges. Maybe if I can keep pulling them down faster than they can keep multiplying, I can return to this task of writing. I was just getting up a good running start at keyboarding, when Frazier came in to say that he had to go. When he’s adamant, you’d better listen, so . . . it is almost time to feed the colonial cats and the big outside dogs, Sam and Missy. It is now after six, so despite my best intentions, between feeding the canines and felines, and myself, and a little time for the TV news, I think I’ll bag this article for the day and take up the task again when my brain is less soggy. I’m back sooner than I’d planned. The cats had a crowd of visitors today. They come in for a bite, and sometimes a fight. Three big males came today. Fluffy, a mostly black male and with a bit of white, and with a stub tail). A gorgeous large white male with big black spots. He is, I suspect, the father of several of our colony. I spotted him clear across the vacant lot. And a large orange male, who looks like he’s living rough. We are also sometimes visited by a huge, all black, shinning and very healthy male, that looks like he belongs back in a jungle somewhere. Once in a while, a big, gray, heavily scarred Persian picks up a handout. Our colony of cats consists of “Miss Priss”, mother of the three males. “Tiger”, as he is described, black on gray stripes, with a tinge of orange to the gray stripes. Tiger is friendly and will allow prolonged petting. “Star-baby” is generally white, with areas of black and gray tiger stripes. One of the areas on his back carries a central “white star” on his spine. Thus his name. His brother, I call “Stripe”. He looks like a clone of “Star”, but has a stripe of white on his spine. “Fraidi-ocious” is a small, green eyed, Calico female with brilliant colors and a retiring behavior. All five are fascinated with Frazier. When he gets to go out, they come running from all directions to sniff and play, and watch his frenzied antics. He scampers around checking out all the fascinating aromas that have made a visit to our yard since his last excursion outside. Sometimes they keep him so busy he hardly has time to lift a leg. He’s a little taller, but they are all much longer than he. Like all dogs he’s far more interested in a north facing cat’s south end. They want to play with him, and his string leash. Frazier learned long ago that a cat’s invitation to play is a conditioned one and includes sharp surprises. Now I have to break for dinner, take a shower, and to wash the sink-full of dishes. I also need to wash a load of clothes. With only one large male mouse in the house, there is darned little time to play, and even much less time for fancy slices of cheese. Frazier does not help, with his constant stealing of my socks. This is his method of trying to get me to stop foolishly working, and come do the important things, like play with him.
(c) Copyright 2006: George Wallace recently published a book on religion which lashes out at nearly all of the comfortable ideas about God, the trappings of organized religion, and the priesthood. His pithy comments and suggestions for a return to a God-centered personal religion will interest everyone. This article may be freely reprinted so long as all copyright attributions, and the full content of this resource box are included. www.OhGodIsThatYou.com
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