What’s Better Than A Three Dog Night?
A three hawk day, of course. Red tailed hawks: yesterday I saw, three within a five minute span, perched on posts or power poles near fields bordering the countryside roads and Highway 26, near North Plains. One adult, then one juvenile (as in the picture), and then another adult.
When I see an RTH on a post or other perch, with its distinctive, striking plumage, locking its piercing hunting gaze on a field below, I am overwhelmed by a feeling of serenity. Even knowing what is to come (some snake/rodent is about to get grasped and eviscerated), I feel that all is as it should be – if only for a moment – in the world.
And now for all (excuse the hyperbole; make that, a smidgen)
of what is not as it should be:
Express Scripts/Medco Makes Me Sick
As readers of this blog are aware, I have no qualms using Strong Language, ® but in this case initials must suffice as I don’t want to type the same word over and over.
I FFFFFF hate hate hate hate FFFF Express Scripts/Medco. Are they our only option for an Rx plan? I whined to MH. I don’t want ANY more of our money, any more of our business, going to them. I have spent too much time on their “help” line (does this sound familiar?) trying to get through to a real person, cursing on line as the perky robotic voice recording dares to say, “to continue to provide you with the best service possible…” Having to listen to that hornswaggling balderdash (see the last post item), after they have provided absolutely the worst service possible, is enough to give me a stroke…which may be their intent, and then that’s one less Shiny Happy Customer for them to deal with.
The idea of such incompetency and penny-pinching bureaucracy having the power to get between a doctor and her patient….. You’re an overpaid passel of pill dispensers; do your job. Diagnosis and treatment are between doctor and patient. The doctor writes the prescription, based on her examination of the patient and the minutia of said patient’s history, to which you, Express Scripts/Medco, are not privy. Fill the fucking prescription – same one you have been filling for Over. Two Years. and now decide to dispute?)
“No soup for you…just because”
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And then, there was this.
Because my day wasn’t stressful enough, what with dealing with the medical bureaucracy shit, one of my cats (I have my suspicions as to the perp’s identity) decided to carry on with the theme by leaving me an odiferous fecal deposit, with accompanying skidmark, on my office carpet, by my desk. Apparently, she felt it had been too long since I had awarded anyone the prestigious Golden Turd Trophy. Nova, this turd’s for you.
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Mark your Calendars and Head for the Indies
Vintage Books in Vancouver (WA) will be celebrating Indies First, on Saturday November 30. Indies First is the brain child of author Sherman Alexie, who urged all “book nerds” (authors) to be booksellers for a day and help support independent book stores. You can see the full text of Alexie’s delightful letter here. I’ll be at Vintage, sharing shifts with other authors, (hopefully) selling and signing copies of The Mighty Quinn and recommending other favorite reads. My shift is from 12 – 1 pm. Be there or be…you know.
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Huh?
From the masthead of Oregon Coast magazine, in a section that lists bio notes for the current issue’s authors and photographers:
“____ is a travel and adventure writer based out of Portland. When she is not writing she is fishing, looking for whales, life-coaching, helping businesses succeed online, making sculptures, teaching yoga, and being a professional Viking.”
Okay. How do you get such a résumé? And am I to believe that she gets paid to be a Viking…of some sort?
I could do that. Kinda sorta: Robyn Parnell is a travel and adventure-deprived writer based out of Hillsboro. When she is not writing she is looking for fish [1] (but not whales), pestering life-coaching (her daughter), and she, too, helps businesses succeed online. [2]
Or, maybe not. There was another one that caught my attention:
“_____ explores Oregon from her home in North Bend. An Oregonian since 1982, she writes for a living, and spends the rest of her time biking, canoeing, making things, and playing Irish music.”
Reading these things, I’m both inspired and befuddled. And maybe just a teense bit jealous. I want a jazzier résumé.
Robyn Parnell explores Oregon from her home in Manzanita (well, in her dreams). An Oregonian since 1991, she writes for a mere pittance, and spends the rest of her time (thinking she should do more) biking, kayaking, making dinner, and playing Dropkick Murphys holiday videos.
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Something to Celebrate
The World Wildlife Fund in cahoots with Vietnamese government’s Forest Protection Department has discovered evidence that should warm the cockles of your heart. An animal scientists thought might be extinct, one of the rarest and most threatened mammals on Earth, [3] is still alive. A camera trap placed in a remote area of the Central Annamite mountains of Vietnam captured the images of a Saola, or “Asian unicorn.” The WWF’s pictures are grainy/paparazzi quality; here is one from many years ago, when a Saola had time for a stylist consultation before the photo shoot.
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Speaking of cockle warming:
Let us now praise the Idiosyncratic Origin of Inane but Interesting Idioms
In another life I might have happily been a linguist, specializing in the etymology of whimsical words and expressions.[4]
Warm the cockles of your heart. Why is the image of a bivalve mollusk used to invoke feelings of inspiration or nostalgia?
Someone said to skedaddle when they are quickly fleeing something. If you want to quickly distance yourself from an aimless scribble, do you skedoodle?
Why does ragamuffin refer to a disheveled person, and not a Hindu musical quick bread?
And then, there is cattywampus. Yes, there is. But, why? Sometimes it’s more fun to speculate than to know for certain. I could google their origins, but that would take all the mystery out of life.
May the warmth of your heart-cockles never fall below room temperature, [5]
and may cattywampus-worthy hijinks ensue.
Thanks for stopping by. Au Vendredi!
[1] At the market.
[2] If you count her e-shopping purchases. Which she does.
[3] Aside from Freethinking Republicans, or people who correctly use the contraction/possessive forms of it’s/its.
[4] A career with salary prospects that would, no doubt, compare to those of literary fiction authors.
[5] It’s just not right, a blog post with less than five footnotes.
