Writing is like being able to put life into a snow globe. It takes the things that are too big and scary and reduces them into a form that I can put away when I want and look at from a distance. It also takes all that’s good in life and captures it into something I can take out when I want and look at close up and keep forever. It makes the bad things into something I can hold…and the good things into something I can hold onto. Both help so much that I need that little souvenir of life.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Improper Poll: Very Un-Playful Possum
I first discovered it when the dog showed me last night. I hoped it was playing possum as they say, but I kept conducting possum checks through the window, and if it was pretending to be dead, it sure was convincing. I enlisted the kids’ help. One of them surmised that the dog might have “squeaked” it, but we're not entirely sure how he could have caught it in the first place, being deaf and as legally blind as Mr. Magoo.
I admired its acting ability when the rain came and it was still playing possum, but when the hail fell, it could have been nominated for an Academy Award. The flies this morning were the clincher, though I left the plastic bag open in the garbage just in case.
What’s the grossest thing you've done lately? (Sorry if this is lame. I had another question for you, but I've decided to save it till Wednesday.)