HCaldwell:On . . .


What is there to say? I'm not very interesting. I'm not a good writer. I don't even dress well. If you insist on knowing something about me just wander through the archives. It's all there.

Wednesday, June 21, 2006

On feline entertainment

We have two long windows next to our front door that go all the way to the floor. The neighbor’s gray and white cat sits on our front step and looks in through these windows at our two cats. Our cats sit on the inside and peer out at the neighbor’s cat. This nose-to-nose through the glass staring contest can go on for hours. It would seem that looking at another cat who is looking back at you through a piece of glass has a great deal of entertainment value in their feline world. The intense concentration that both “sides” exhibit would suggest that some very important communication process must be taking place through that glass. Cat gossip? Mouse and bird reports? Trading hairball recipes?

“How strange”, I thought as I watched them.

Then this evening while I was watching the news on television, I realized that I had been sitting for an hour apparently staring at another person who appeared to be looking back at me through a piece of glass. For all the technological differences, the situation would appear to be remarkably similar to what transpires at the cat’s window peering sessions. Any truly objective outside observers (Space Aliens, perhaps?) would probably be unable to see any real differences in the two activities.

“How strange”, I thought. . .

Monday, June 12, 2006

On walking in the rain

It rained today. I really do like walking in the rain. I can ignore all the suburban scenery surrounding me and focus on the amazing feeling of water droplets as they strike me after falling thousands of feet from the sky. If those droplets could think, would they be startled that after leaving their cloud and leaping into the air to fall with great speed towards the earth that they would end up landing on the tip of my nose? Would they feel honored or indignant? Do they take bets on who can be the first to hit me right in the eye? Are the losers the ones who end up soaking my underwear?

Being pelted by a spring rain is definitely cathartic for me. Even though I usually end up being physically chilled and miserable by the end of my walk, my mood is usually improved. Since it only takes some dry clothes and a cup of tea to fix the physical discomforts, I am more than willing to pay the price for a few moments of wonder. I am happy to let the rain wash the stink off my day. I am pleased that all the detritus of daily living gets a good sluicing.

I could do without the wet underwear.