New Word

My jogging pace has inspired me to create a new verb: to tudball, as in "Today I tudballed for about 40 minutes."

Two Things

This morning while out for my little jog, I saw two unusual things.  

The first one was something I'd never seen before, though I'm kind of surprised I hadn't: a kid texting while riding a bicycle.  The bike was coming toward me, and I saw it from some distance away.  It was weaving quite a bit, and when it got a little closer, I saw that the rider had only one hand on the handlebars.  The other hand held a cell phone, and he was texting with his thumb.  I wasn't surprised.  I expect I'll see this again.

The second was something I hadn't seen in years: a man mowing his lawn while smoking a cigarette.  He had both hands on the mower handles, and the cigarette was clamped in his mouth.  I was a lot more surprised at this sight than at the other one.  Both of them told me something about how much things had changed during my lifetime.

Wee, sleekit, cowrin, tim'rous beastie

In my long career on the road I've encountered lots of beasties. I've frightened a flock of wild turkeys, I've come upon more than my share of rattlesnakes (my share = none), I've been buzzed bombed by a hawk, I've been chased by mockingbirds, and I've of course had dealings with dogs without number. But yesterday was a first.

I was cruising along at my usual speed (.0000001 mph) when I saw a young cat, maybe about three-fourths grown, stalking something in the grass. The cat saw me, too, and it didn't like what it saw. (Not that I blame it.) It crouched back down and went into stalking mode again, but it kept glancing my way. Finally it decided that whatever it was stalking wasn't worth meeting me for, and it took off for parts unknown. I kept going, and when I got to the spot where the cat had been looking, a mouse popped out of the grass.

It looked just like a Disney mouse, chubby and happy (no wonder), and it scampered along the street beside me for a couple of steps. Then it veered off and slipped through the grate of a storm drain.

I went on home, and when I arrived, I saw an earthworm squirming on the pavement of my driveway, just about to cook in the sunshine. I picked it up and put it in the grass by the driveway, where it immediately started boring into the rain-softened ground. Two minuscule lives that will go on a little longer.

In Aurora, Colorado, a crazy man had killed twelve people only hours earlier. He'd wounded dozens more and left hundreds with psychic scars. It doesn't balance, does it? It doesn't come within a million miles. I guess you just do what you can.