Saturday, June 04, 2005

Exactly Three Weeks from Now I'll Be...

The book on the top of my toilet tank is Digital Photography Hacks. Most of the tips I can't implement because I don't possess photo editing software (yet), but one of the tips I recently flipped to was #88: Keep a Digital Diary. The author (a personal friend of mine!) recommends using a cameraphone or keeping cheap digital camera on your person to snap one photo a day. Add a caption and pop 'em all into a folder into your iPhoto or other photo organizer. Derrick notes, "Seems kind of boring, doesn't it? You'll be surprised that, over time, those images are anything but boring. Even after only a couple of months, you'll find that looking back is more fun than you would have imagined."


M recommended that I should blog about our conversation with a quail the other night. Like a feathered Pepe LePew, a young male had left his covey and was calling from the hill behind our house, on the hunt for a love nest. M dug out his quail call, and replied. It was funny to hear how the quail's response changed, became a shorter and almost questioning. After just a few exchanges, he couldn't resist, and flew overhead, looking for the source. He finally settled high on oak tree, giving us a great view of his handsome self. Hope he's found a real mate by now. Have you ever seen a quail family when the babies are very young? I had a family skitter across my path last season, and the young ones are just adorable puffs of fluff. Hope we get a chance to see more babies this summer.


Maybe it was the "Fresh Air" interview with the nun who lives in the Tiajuana prison I was listening to before bedtime, but I had terrible dream a couple of nights ago. I was in the front passenger seat of a car, remaining calm as two middle aged mustachioed Latino (middle-eastern?) men drove a pipe through the back of my right hand. In the dream, my consciousness was very Zen-like, and I didn't feel pain, but of course my hand was pinned to the front seat when they were done. They reached for my left hand and that's when I freaked out, began screaming nonstop, envisioned the biscuit-sized hole I would have in both hands, how it would hurt, I would lose the use of both hands, I tried to get away but couldn't. Huh. I was so scared I woke myself up, and didn't return to dreamland for a while. Even M thought it was about the wedding.

Not surprisingly, I was tired the next day.


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