05/01/01 - May, May, May, What A Wonderful Day. That's what I call artistic license. And what should I find on my doorstep this morning, besides an open door ... A little bird. Now, I'm already a bit fuzzy when I arrive home after a day's night at work, but this was more than my fuzzy eyes could comprehend. First off, what's with the open door? I'm figuring the last person in must of thought he was going to go back out. The door must have been open all night and here we sit on one of the busiest streets in town. And the birdie? Well, not all that surprising as we have this mega antique palm tree in the front yard that showers baby birds every spring. This bird was a bit different though. He had made it into the open doorway. When I opened the door further, there were Spunky and Punkin, curious but polite. They'd spared the creature. That, in fact, was my biggest surprise. The Kid said not to worry, he would get the the Homeless Birdie Goddess to come to the rescue. The father of the Goddess has built a shelter for the homeless in his backyard. All will end well.
I received a brochure for the 2001 Maui Writer's Conference in the mail today. I have never been to Hawaii. I won't be going soon. But, if I was to visit Hawaii I think the conference would be the best occasion to do so. Hawaii has never been on my list of places to go; places like Tibet and Peru rank right on top. It does seem a bit more appealing to me though to think of myself in that tropical environment emerged in thoughts of writing ... Not surf and turf. I've never been to a writer's conference either. I'm not a schmoozer. I think I would be the same way I am on the computer, a lurker. Things change though, you just never know. Guess I should add this to my list of possibilities.
This day started with a door incident ... And it ends with a door incident. I was just getting ready to head for my nap before graveyard shift; had tuna buns nuking in the microwave. Then came an ominous knock on the door. Our porch light doesn't work. The Kid opened the door. "Hi Kid, can we speak to you a minute?" The voice sounded a little old for The Kid's friend. Police. It was Detective Lewis. They know The Kid by name. The Kid does not have a record. He's been street smart since he was three years old. But, he does not have a record. There are guns missing from a house in the neighborhood. I knew about the situation. The Kid tells me everything. I think The Kid would break down to me if he knew anything. But we both had to endure the grilling. The Kid outside, me inside. My griller was huge too, plain clothes. I've been asked why I have this thing about cops. It really doesn't matter why, I just do. Not many people remember Kent State and anyway that was back then ... Way back then. They left handing The Kid and I cards with their voice mail numbers. We can leave anonymous messages. The truth is, I don't want any 16 y.o.'s running around town with guns. I kept the number. |
