Regular Life

Some may remember the Liger from Napoleon Dynamite. It is the animal that results from the combination of a lion and a tiger, and it is real. So are the Zonkey, the Zorse, and the Pizzly. Don’t believe it? See the link below.

http://outside.away.com/outside/culture/200708/hybrid-animals-1.html

For years I believed that the nectarine is a hybrid of the peach and the plum. The smooth skin came from the plum, while the rest was peach-like. Certainly, there are real hybrid fruits — Orangelo, Tangelo — but on this one, I was wrong.

Researching how long humans have cultivated hybrids, I stumbled across a thread featuring not-so-real fruit and vegetable hybrids. My favorites are the limenut and the pearkin. Find what you like here:
http://www.freakingnews.com/Hybrid-fruits-and-vegetables-Pictures–1079.asp

Just remember, you can lead a Zorse to water, but you Canta-banana.

(click to enlarge)

I awake on Sunday to the sound of my son’s voice. “Here, Daddy. Here’s the card I made for you.”

He hands me a sheet of paper. Glued on it are several S-shaped packing peanuts, and glued on those is the cutout shape of what slightly resembles an elephant, painted brightly in thick globs of some sort of paint that surely must be safe for children. A pair of eyes — enveloped in black, green, and blue — peer out at me.

“It was his idea to make it 3D,” Shannon says. “He said he knew we had some S’s in the garage somewhere, and there was a whole bag of them.”

It hangs in my cubicle now, still slightly resembling an elephant.

The rest of the day went downhill, fast, so I’m skipping it here.

On Monday, Shannon declared I was getting a “Father’s Day Do-Over” because she had been in bed sick while the boy and I hung out.

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Picture taken on December 11, 2008
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There are new occupants in the space made almost-famous by Blue Straw (and, later, Red Straw).

Some of you read the saga — including photos, video clips, and a letter to local government — culminating in a rescue mission that I’m still not sure was the right thing to do. Perhaps the letter was the real mistake, because it was what left me no choice.

The new residents have been there at least six months, through several downpours, and recently I noticed a visitor.

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Click pic for a better look.

 
Please type the story you think should (or at least could) accompany this photo. It can be one sentence, or a few paragraphs. It can contain dialogue or not. It can be funny, scary, mysterious, or something else. Nobody’s entry will appear until I’ve received all of them, to keep the originality flowing.*

Multiple entries per person allowed.

Suggestion: If you decide to write a long-ish story, use a text editor and then copy and paste it here, to make sure you don’t lose anything.

Enjoy.

* – Update: The “hold comments for moderation” feature is not working. I must have published this before adjusting that setting, or something. Just try to resist reading the comments before writing your own.

Click pic for a better look at this hopper.

 
See other Wordless Wednesday participants here:
http://www.wordlesswednesday.com/

(concluded from Part Four)

Sunday, May 31 – Second Verse

Woman sits in Dealey Plaza, reading aloud.

When it comes to John F. Kennedy’s assassination, it seems the only thing people agree on is that he was shot. Visiting the site doesn’t help one form a strong opinion one way or the other (not this one, anyway), and I had very little prior knowledge of the topic.

We leave Medieval Times’ wenches, knights and royalty behind us and head to the nearby Dealey Plaza, where the 35th President of the United States made his final public appearance.

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(Continued from Part Three)

Sunday, May 31 – First Verse

When I wake up, it doesn’t even cross my mind that Simon will end up in a choke hold. And, believe it or not, it isn’t because of the picture he took of me. If you can’t whistle while you’re wearing Super Trooper sunglasses over your regular glasses, then when can you?

Breakfast is a casserole Shannon made from a recipe. With nothing on our agenda until late afternoon, we hang out at the house for the morning, and then snack on homemade salsa and sandwiches in anticipation of the large meal to come.

Shannon and Amy go shopping while the rest of us see Drag Me To Hell, the latest Sam Raimi film. It isn’t as much fun as the Evil Dead film series, and the well-done creepy scenes were almost completely ineffectual against talking moviegoers seemingly set on ruining the mood. No wonder people are choosing more and more to wait until they can rent a film.

It’s this kind of hanging out, just as we would with local friends we can see any time (but don’t nearly often enough) that stitches the weekend into a rich tapestry of… oh, boy, somebody stop me now, please.

Then comes the uncommon event we all have been anticipating — something I had consulted the guys about before they had booked their flights. We load up in Homer and head to Dallas.

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(continued from Part Two)

Saturday, May 30

Do you prefer real maple or the artificial pancake syrup?

To start our first full day as a complete unit, we watch Simon make breakfast. Using the ingredients Shannon had grabbed at the store based on the list he had sent, he whips up a batch of blueberry chocolate chip pancakes. I quickly finish mine and wish for more. For me that’s something, because I normally can’t get through a short stack without getting nauseated. Shannon had bought whole grain instead of just whole wheat flour, but they turn out great.

Sadly, Moonshot eats only one bite of her stack after slathering it in maple syrup. Of the six of us, the Canadians and I are the only ones who prefer the real stuff. They mention, however, that what I have (from Vermont) is much different from what they have back home.

On our somewhat loose itinerary, this is our stay in town day. No trips over major highways, no venturing into the city.

(click any of the many pics to enlarge)

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(continued from Part 1)

Friday, May 29

Simon, Amy, and I stretch sleep from our joints as Shannon returns from taking Benjamin to school. Carefully eying a package Moksha Gren had shipped to our house with explicit instructions not to open it, we scarf some caramel rolls (the kind packaged like canned biscuits), get presentable, and hit the road to retrieve Moksha and Moonshot.

We miss the airport photo op because they already are waiting at the curb with their bags. I maneuver into a somewhat parallel position, but a shuttle bus comes along to urge me out of the way.

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It’s Thursday, May 28. The Texas air is just about right for retrieving Canadians from the airport.

Driving into DFW, I see a wrecked SUV in the median and a huge line of standstill traffic headed in the opposite direction — my route for heading back home.

I park and find the travel-worn couple waiting for their luggage, then lead them back to Homer and head out of the airport on roads completely new to me. Until now I never have exited the airport to the south.

A few frustrating (for me) stops later with a Texas map so old that it is completely unaware of the roads right in front of us, I find a 7 Eleven, where a friendly local gives me a simple outstretched hand pointing me in the right direction. I had found the road I wanted to take east, but when my options on it were North or South, I was unsure. Next thing on my list: a simple dashboard compass.

As we finally reach our driveway, Simon asks Amy, “Could you get the shirts out of the bag?”

She does, and each of them pulls on a crisp, white t-shirt over what they’re already wearing. It bears a picture of my lovely wife in a candid shot I had e-mailed to Simon and Moksha. She has her head turned and is making a goofy open-mouthed face, while holding a can of Miller Lite. I may or may not have sent along a higher-resolution version after Simon jokingly threatened to put it on a t-shirt and Moksha joked that he wouldn’t have the guts.

Below the picture is this text: Arkansas Chicks Rock

They set their things down inside the front door as I scamper off to wake Shannon. She ambles out of the bedroom and, as she clears sleep from her eyes, says, “Hey, guys!”

Simon and Amy’s smiles are a bit too big, their matching shirts too prominent.

Shannon squints for a better look in the living room’s dim light. “What’s that?” She eyes me suspiciously. “How did they get that picture?”

And the weekend is off to a great start. Just wait ’til the vegetarians arrive.

(to be continued)