If I Was a Bird

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This is my official salute to Leonard Nimoy, off on his new adventure as ashes or gasses or maybe worm food.

I can’t post selfies without hearing the voice of my ex-nemesis accusing me of being narcissistic. My psyche collects bits of conversations and voices like the sea collects flotsam and jetsam.

¬†Yesterday afternoon a very heavy fire extinguisher fell on a coworker’s foot and crushed at least a couple of toes sending her to the ER. One hour later I get a text from my mom telling me she’s in the same ER with a possible heart attack that turned out to be 3 broken ribs that were making it painful and difficult for her to breathe.

Wanna know my feelings about Monday?

Good news about work: in about two weeks we will no longer be working in a residential garage. Wanna know what I think about working in someone’s garage that isn’t my own?

I just said I’d foster an adult cat for a couple of weeks. One that’s come from a cat colony. It’s harder for me to put myself out for humans than it is for animals. I suppose I’ve found my work as a cat foster parent. I do wonder if I can get involved with working to rehabilitate injured wild birds. I really love birds.

If I was a bird I’d probably be a pterodactyl or a wild turkey. Yep, not a delicate sweet hummingbird. Not an elegant beautiful pigeon*. Not a cool righteous crow. I’d be a scary giant flying dinosaur, or a really wacky weird turkey. Or a chicken.

I’m year of the rooster in Chinese astrology, so that all makes sense.

This just reminded me how everyone wants to discover they were royalty or someone really important in a past life and I’m all “Yeah, peasant here. I’m sure I was a mud-hut blister-covered peasant”. You wanna know what’s great about that? Peasants are the people who’ve kept the world running from the beginning. They made everyone’s wine, they built roads, they dug wells, they plowed the fields, they buried the bodies. Royalty and nobles do very little that’s actually worthy or noble.

The same is true today. So yeah, being a peasant in a past life is cool by me. Also, my ancestors were farmers, fur trappers, and wine makers (the ones I actually know about). Plus a poet. Plus some really epically poor folk living in the Appalachian mountains doing a lot of surviving, I guess.

*SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU PIGEON-HATERS. THERE ARE PIGEONS WITH WAR MEDALS YOU BAT-TURDS!

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