Hold on to what is good even if it is a handful of earth.
Hold on to what you believe even if it is a tree which stands by itself.
Hold on to what you must do even if it is a long way from here.
Hold on to life even when it is easier letting go.
Hold on to my hand even when I have gone away from you.
- Pueblo Blessing
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Monday, Jul. 18, 2005 - 1:19 a.m.
WARNING!!!! if you know me personally, you may read my diary, but if you do, you take the chance of hearing things you don't want to know, misunderstanding what I've written and being hurt by it. If you are unsure if it is ok to read, save yourself and me the grief and heartache, and ask first!!! Please note that this is a DIARY, ie my subjective feelings, hearsay, suppositions, and outpourings of ranting of the moment. It does not represent objective news, the whole of what I think of a topic or someone, or even a thought-out representation of any of the above. Keep that in mind. Thanks. * Here is a Diary Etiquette Read Me.
Fat Happy Bottle-Green Flies
There was already an entry tonight with another zucchini picture... and look girls, unless you have given birth to a large baby recently, or do a lot of warmup, other than Hiss who seems to get a lot of workout, that zuke is TOO big. TOO big I tell ya. sheesh, bunch of size queens!!
You know what?
There are these gorgeous shiny green flies, big fat happy shiny green glistening metallic flies, like scarab beatles, flying around here. One has decided that my drawing lamp is his new holy grail and will not be satisfied until he is united with it.
He takes breaks on my fingers as I paint. agh.
Now I would have been a bit more laissez-faire about these happy bottlegreen flies a few days ago. But um. did I write about the meat thing? How my dog wants to always walk just this certain way in my back alley? And how last week there was a half a shopping bag full of MEAT sitting on the asphalt in the sun? Raw hamburger. piles of it. Some had been run over by the car that lives there (no the owners of the car are not involved, they were as grossed as me), and as a result squished into the holes and cracks in the asphalt, and spread by the tire rolling. That would be enough, but there was also um, barbecue pork it would seem. With rice with bbq sauce. And cooked onions.
In the sun. At over 30�C. On black asphalt.
With flies.
Covered with so many flies it looked alive.
Jeesh.
And after photographing it, writing in french on the asphalt "NO RAW MEAT!!!!" with white chalk, and picking it up, we walked a little further on. And some other NICE person, some CAT-LOVING CARING nice person, ONLY thinking of the little alleycat's wee hungry tummies, had set out MORE meat... this time chicken, cut into little bits, in a nice little hand-made dish fashioned out of tin foil. In the sun. At over 30�C. On black asphalt.
With flies.
Covered with so many flies it looked alive.
Yes I picked it up too.
So, we were only missing, what? Lamb and fish??
Hello idiot Nice Cat Lady People!! It is hot out! the meat ROTS in the sun, and gets FLIES and diseases and makes animals SICK!! Stupid animal loving people with no brains.
Put out dry cat food on your back porch or something.
Stop making all our vet-billed healthy housecats sick with rotten meat, and driving my dog to distraction with raw beef ground into the cracks.
And that's not all for the bottle green wellfed happy fat flies.
Yesterday in the next alley over, on our way to the park, it smells so bad, it could be a portable toilet knocked over. I look around sniffing.
There is a plastic bag. One of them light beige jobbies for kitches with tieable handles. Which are untied. It is lying flat, but the opening is wide open, flat. I look closely, thinking maybe this is a bag FROM some camper's portable toilet, who parked next to the park at night, and dumped it in our back alley before hitting the road.
Nope. There are um. maggots. fat happy squirming millions of maggots like the bbq rice above. hmmm. I look at them. hmmm. in their happy sunshine. And notice the flat bag has something humid in it, with a texture strangely like shag carpet. Hmmm.
Yes I guessed what it was before looking. Yes I looked. I took a clean dogpoopybag and put it over my hand and lifted the top of the plastic bag.
Dead cat. Very dead. Very decomposed. Very. Flat.
Very smelling.
Very um. Food for Baby Flies.
Tomorrow I have to call the city. I will pick up dead raw hamburger, but not liquified cat remains. I will not.
And now that is what I think of. When fat happy buzzing healthy shiny green flies fly over my drawing table and land on my hands.
Somehow it has just ruined the beauty of them a wee bit.
I guess I'm not the sort who should keep carrion-feeders as pets.
cheers.
wenchie
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previous meanderings - future past
Goodbye Michael. May your next life be kinder to you. - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Taking Care of Your Cows - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Saint Joseph robs the cradle and eats spaghetti - Sunday, Jun. 14, 2009
sticky notes and broken irises - Friday, Jun. 12, 2009
The FOODCOMMANDER - Monday, Jun. 08, 2009
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