all the colors

March 17, 2008

Puffy Eye, Wonky Arm, and Sunday Spying

Filed under: my world — Kathy @ 12:46 am
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My life has gotten strange. Today, I looked like a freak as I taught my Sunday School class because my left eye, which looked normal when I put make-up on it this morning, was swelling up for no apparent reason. And to make matters even worse, a member of the bishopric decided to sit in on my class today. Huh? I need supervision? And this is the day I have to look extra weird?

Puff the Magic Eye

A few days ago, my right arm developed a pain. I’m talking a bad, moan and grimace kind of pain. A sufficiently specialized doctor thinks it’s nerve pain and I probably need cervical spine surgery. That means in my neck. What?! And you’re not kidding? Not at all? I don’t really want more spine surgery. Been-there-done-that and it’s not exactly my choice of a pleasant afternoon pastime. But I may not have much of a choice. You can feel sorry for me for a minute here.
Now a narcotic pain killer keeps me drugged up to the point of, um, . . . I forget. You can stop feeling sorry for me here.


March 2, 2008


Filed under: my world — Kathy @ 11:14 pm
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There are some good reasons I’m not building my house out in the wilds of Idaho. One of which is roosters. Yes, you heard me, roosters. I’m kind of a night mama. I sometime, well, OK, often, well, OK, every single night, like to stay up late. The last thing I want is some cock-a-doodle-doer waking me up at the crack of dawn. I think there is some city ordinance forbidding residents of this village to keep poultry, because when we bought our lot, it, being on the edge of town and covering a few acres, came with some animal rights. The real estate agent told us we could have two large animals, like cows or horses. But absolutely no poultry. Which was an ordinance I could agree with.

Now, I’m not living out on that lot yet. I’m right in the middle of town, the “inner village.” The last few weeks, I have heard a rooster outside my bedroom window. A ROOSTER! Not a cute little bunny, not a sweet woolly lamb, not even a yipping fluffy puppy. A rooster. Not only does this criminal crow at the crack of dawn, he does his thing at 1 am and 2:30 am and 4 am and you-name-it am and also every-other-hour pm.

So what to do? The police? A friendly neighborly visit? An anonymous letter?

I don’t know who is keeping this bird. It’s not my immediate neighbors, Heather and Eldon and their four cute little kids. I like kids. I can tell the difference between kids crowing and ROOSTERS crowing. Kids are allowed in the village, criminal roosters are not. At least that’s what I hope.

I might have to go on a little detective mission with my camera, you know, find the criminal and give the police the bird, as in something to go on.

Maybe it would be quieter out in the wilds.

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