Tuesday, August 15, 2017

Simian Lives (Even Imaginary) Matter

Here's a true story from the Baudelaire Files:

A couple of weeks ago, Precocious Daughter and I were driving home from her weekly clarinet lesson.

Totally channeling the Goodman vibe, she is.

She was driving, because ever since she got her learner's permit, I basically only drive to work and home again. Everywhere else - Target, music lessons, her dad's place, band practice - she drives.

She is actually a pretty damn good driver. I'm proud of her.

And in fact, except for her two iron-clad rules - 1) the driver picks the radio station and 2) when she's not the driver she picks the radio station - I like being a passenger. It's a novelty I haven't enjoyed since becoming a single mom.

Let's pretend any of these women are me, OK?
Back to the point, though.

We were driving on a stretch of road between suburbs where the speed limit is 50 mph. And naturally, PDaughter was taking tf care of that rather high limit as she drove us home.

And so, while driving at a pretty good clip for a city street, we both saw something in the median.

First, we saw a big-ass crow.

I mean, this thing was the size of a KFC five-piece meal all by itself.

Seriously, effing wings and thighs and biscuits and all that shit.

Second, we saw that said Mr. Crow was presiding over the body of some roadkill. As your standard suburban crow will do.

Spoiler alert: Doesn't give a sh*t whether you call it a crow, blackbird,
or grackle. Will crap on your car and stare you the f*ck down
from the median.

Here's the thing: As we whiz by, PDaughter exclaims, "Was that a monkey?"

As in, was the roadkill we just saw next to the amazingly freaking large crow...an actual monkey?


Oh, Jeebus. I'm sorry for that.

Here's the thing. I saw something in the median that Sunday morning.

I thought it was a large cat...?

Possibly a Siamese, because it was, like, tawny and had a long tail...?

But...A monkey?

What the actual f*ck would an actual dead monkey have been doing in the median of a suburban thoroughfare on a Sunday morning?

Besides something super-interesting but also
inherently very sad?
You can imagine our curiosity.

Unfortunately, the moment passed quickly.

We did not make a U-turn to confirm our suspicions, also unfortunately.

So what did we see that Sunday morning?

A run-of-the-mill carcass of a squirrel or cat that didn't make it across the road like the fabled chicken?

Or an actual long-tailed, tan-bodied, inexplicable monkey who somehow met its unlikely end along a wide suburban road in Texas, to be attended in death by a glossy black-feathered bird?

I'd like to say I have the answer. But I don't.

As far as PDaughter and I are concerned, we saw a monkey in the median along Belt Line Road between Coppell and Carrollton, Texas.

And we mourn that little guy.

The point is, every little life matters. Try to remember that as you whiz by on the roadway.

Every life.

Every one.

Monday, August 14, 2017

Sleep, Well

An ode to the things we have and the other things.


The fabric of the world
Is frayed at the edges
And worn thin in the center

And has been mended in places,
Patched and darned over time,
As one must do

When there is no spare
Folded up in the closet,
Still crisp and creased,

Awaiting the day
The threads finally give way
And fall into the rag-bag.

So we tend the faded florals,
Caress the soft spots
That threaten to tear,

And lie as gently
As our nightmares will allow
Within its folds.

Tomorrow we awake.
Tonight we dream.
The fabric is stronger than its seams.