My one-eyed toad was back again last night. Took dog out--and there he was. I'm so happy he keeps returning. I think he's wooing the bricks of the house. He just seems to want to sit and stare at them. Good luck, buddy.
It's strange how loss comes back. Like a smell-memory, at the most unexpected time; shockingly strong is the pull back to the past. We're all defined from where we came from. We know ourselves by it directly, or in direct opposition against it. We're made able, or not. Tall or short, thick or thin. We have our mother's smile and our father's stride. We walk ourselves, but we walk in the rhythm of the DNA of another.
I've tried hard to define myself within a series of compromises. I like this, I keep it. I don't like this, I am the opposite of it. We're all silly putty. We're maleable, we stretch ourselves. We do the best we can and often that best turns out to be so terribly, wretchedly wrong. But always in retrospect. Never in time at the time to do any different. So then it's called 'building character.' Years and years ago I said I have enough character to sink a ship. And yet the character keeps coming.
If cruises didn't seem so artificial I'd probably take one.
I like buffalo and 2-ply toilet paper. Haiku and limericks come easily, as does most writing. I like to edit but you wouldn't know it from this blog.
My nose works well. I like to cook; it's relaxing. But I don't enjoy cooking for just myself much. Small bugs don't disturb me and I'm curious about almost all of them. I don't like cockroaches & I 'see' them everywhere because I'm currently a little sleep-deprived.
I'm superstitious. I collect things. I have lucky charms, but generally not the best of luck. I love my animals. I am not a fan of the circle of life. I like the idea of a battened down ship: nothing unnecessary. I would like a house like this. I guess that's an RV then.
I like John Wayne, Steve Irwin, Tarzan and Gary Cooper. I like Superman. He's a good guy.
I often feel I'll be alone, end up alone. Sometimes I feel I'm living a small life, essentially useless, but I'm also terrified of dying and the thought of it keeps me awake at night. Thinking about how the Universe began can make me feel like I'm going crazy. It's too big. I hope there's an afterlife, but I doubt this. An afterlife makes me feel less frightend. It's the nothingness and the utter disappearance that makes me feel so scared. What is the point if we all amount to nothing?
I used to be a better map-reader than I am now. I still like maps a lot.
I grew up in a house of music and now there's almost never any music. I keep intending to change this, and yet, I keep forgetting. I miss the music but wish I didn't have to be the one to make it happen.
If I go outside right now, will that toad that has turned up two days running--as well as back in July--be there? God I hope so. But I don't want to check in case he's not. I like the idea of him out there so much.
I'd like to be both braver and happier than I am. You can count on me to be both--but I struggle when I'm alone, although I am optimistic. I'm also a realist.
I need to fix: the chimney, the roof, the kitchen ceiling, the gutters, the exterior paint, my cat's eye, get a fence installed, have the pecan tree arborized and have all the various wall and ceiling cracks checked out. And get sidewalk looked at. And those are the things I know of. I like fresh flowers in the house & should make an effort to have them. They make my heart feel happy.
Disaster movies upset me. The randomness of death troubles me--again: not a fan of the circle of life. Or rather, big fan of life, it's the end that gets to me. I like songbirds, singing insects & I'm not a very good passenger. I do try. Speaking of passengers, I like pigeons too.
Think this is a lady Carpenter Bee? Shiny black abdomen and a black head. Amazing green eyes!
She was chilling on the pavement. I watched her for a while. She eventually was bored of me and buzzed up & away. She bumped off of my camera first, then slowly meandered off into the trees. Sweet little bee. I almost stepped on her! So glad I looked down and had a chance to really get up close before she flew away. Those eyes are just incredible.
Dog had to go out early & as we were spilling outside, he paused to sniff at something by the front door. Thank god he didn't eat it. He used to when he was a puppy. Or at least, he'd try. That would cause quite a screaming commotion and lots of DROP IT DROP ITs!!!
So here's this big fat brown toad just sitting there. It hopped around a little before I deposited it in the bushes--so it/he/she would be even less interesting to the dog--just in case. Anyway. He/she/it puffed up very nicely in order to be large and threatening. Though dutifully impressed I still managed to slip the toad back to better safety.
I think the gentle rain we are having inspired her/him/it to have a walkabout. I'm very happy to have interacted with the fat brown toad. Very pretty markings. So here's the Sept 26th, 2010 pictures:
The brown toad reminded me that I never posted pictures I took a while ago of another brown toad, & I'll be damned if they're not the same toad! Here's the July 19th, 2010 pictures--same toad as above:
But here's the crazy part--besides the fact that months apart I'm still stumbling across the same old toad--his eye (back then) was messed up--but when I saw him last night, it was much better. So I'm glad the eye is good--cause as these older pics show, it was rrrrrl nasty:
Looking good and grim. Good an grim.
Here's the toad's best side, with a very pretty golden eye:
I can't believe I keep turning up the same damn toad! What a trooper! I hope I see him/her/it again.
My wish has been fulfilled, because that toad was back again last night (9/26/10):
She/he/it likes to sit and stare at the bricks. I'm not sure why?
This mythical creature was spotted earlier today near the juncture of The Couch and the Floor in the Great Den. Luckily I had my camera with me, as I so often do during these nature hikes throughout The House, & I was just in the right place at the right time.
So many other images in the past have been too blurry to make anything out:
But happily the majestic Unidog appeared to be sleeping, unconscious or perhaps dead. Picture taking was simple! I was only able to snap off a couple, before the creature stirred (aha, not dead) & I backed away quickly. One never knows how a mythological beast will react to cameras. Or hunger.