Wierd Stuff

Chicken Lady & Underwear Man

Wednesday, April 10th, 2013

 

Not Chickens But Close Enough?

“Stop, Baba! Stop! I’m scared! Turn around!”

My grandkids are screaming with terror in the back seat of my car.

Too late to stop. We are climbing straight up the side of a mountain that is mainly enormous shiny boulders. Chicken Lady lives here and we have come to meet her chickens.

Eeeh gads. Even I am nervous. I haven’t expected this.

We reach a small plateau surrounded by more Straight Up. I park the car. This is the place. We all get out and we are leaning forwards so we can stay upright.

There is an old house up the grade aways and behind and beside us and in front of us are long, slung together chicken sheds.

Around us, beside us and in front of us run big goats and baby goats, loose chickens and cats.

An old woman dressed in overalls slides down the mountain towards us.

It’s Chicken Lady!

Loch who is 6, is looking at the ground around his feet which is littered with  small, moist brown balls. The balls are arranged in artistic scattered piles and lines, as far as we can see.

Loch says to Chicken Lady, “What is that stuff?”

Chicken Lady puts down a bucket and  says, “It’s goat poop.”

Loch winces, cries out and tries to dance around and away from it.

Chicken Lady looks at me and says, “Where is he from?”

I say he lives at the Coast and they don’t have goat manure there.

We tilt our heads back and look up. More goats are climbing the rocks and the mountain. I am trying to keep my balance by flailing my arms and moving my feet.

Chicken Lady suggests we meet the chickens. We turn and slide down the hill and kind of roll into one of the vast sheds. The sunlit sheds contain all kinds of chickens that are roaming at will. There’s also a lot of goats in here.

The kids are impressed.

A big, gold goat comes trotting up to Loch, stops and stands in front of him and pees a massive pee.

Loch points and yells, “What’s that!?”

Chicken Lady looks surprised and disgusted at his question.

“It’s a goat peeing,” she says.

Loch screams and backs away, going into a ragged wail of fake crying.

“What’s the matter with you?” Chicken Lady says.

She stares at him and says, “Everything poops and everything pees. Get used to it.”

This is our day at the chicken ‘ranch.’

As we climb into the car to leave, Chicken Lady sidles up to me and asks if I think the kid will ever be normal. I say that I hope so. That I am trying to teach Loch about Real Life Beyond The Cosmopolitan Coast.

We say ‘Good-bye’ and ‘thanks,’ to Chicken Lady. Then we slam our car doors, kick the red car into gear and slide it down the mountain, leaving (I’m sorry to say) Chicken Lady in a great whirl of dust and tiny stones. The kids yell, “Go faster Baba! Go faster!” (more…)

My Stupid Love Life

Wednesday, April 3rd, 2013

Good Energy Art By Venus http://www.artmojos.com

It’s 6PM, several years ago. I’m cutting flowers in my summer garden. My house phone is ringing and I rush inside the kitchen to answer it. It’s Harry, the fellow my brother has been telling me has a crush on me. I’m breathing hard from the quick run from the yard.

Harry says, “Venus, what time does your mother go to bed?”

“Ah…what?  My mother? What times does my mother go to bed? Eight? Eight-thirty? Why.”

“I’d like to go and see her ,” Harry says, “But, maybe it’s too late in the day.”

My mother is 87 and Harry is maybe 40. He thinks of my mother as his mother.

“Here”, I say, “I’ll give you her care taker’s number. She can tell you if Mom is still up.”

“No, no!” Harry shouts.  “Don’t.”

“OK,” I say. “Goodnight then?”

“Thank you, Venus,” Harry says, “for running inside to answer the phone.”

Later, I laugh myself to sleep. This is one of the more novel excuses a man has used to phone me.

“What time does your mother go to bed?” !!? (more…)

The FOD Girls

Wednesday, March 13th, 2013

Lexi Meets The Neanderthal Man

Summer is saying, “So far nothing odd has happened today for you to write about in your blog, Mom.”

And, then it happens.

The three of us are playing hooky from our regular lives, today. We’ve come to Balboa Park to give my granddaughter Lexi, who is 10, some museum culture. Lexi has been badgering us for months, to take her to see the “Naked Neanderthal men at the History Museum.”

I’ve thought she might be disappointed. In America, nobody has genitals in these kinds of places. It’s just not done. This may be why the Neanderthals died out.

The cavemen are indeed a disappointment.

Next, we have lunch outside at a fancy place on the Park grounds. While looking at the menu, Summer says, “Lexi will have a big Margarita.”

Lexi snaps to attention and gets excited.

“Oh wait,” her mother says, ” I was thinking about myself, not you Lexi. Sorry.”

Lexi slumps in her chair and peers at her dismal glass of water.

So far, nothing *FOD has happened.

As we get up from our table after lunch, we notice small white hearts encased in tiny plastic snack baggies, on the ground.

Oh my! (more…)


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