When I hosted my radio show a few years ago a favorite segment was to keep track of what the world’s population searched for most often on the internet that particular day.
I'm Just Saying
Having determined by poll (my own, burrrrp) that once again, Reeses Peanut Butter Cups are the most popular and requested Halloween candy among children (and those who behave like children), I was forced to eat the trough of kale chips I’d purchased and turned my attention towards perusing this year’s most frightening costumes.
A few days ago Paul spied our neighbor’s fox sauntering through the orchard.
I refer to the animal as my neighbor’s as he has taken up residence on their property for quite some time, complete with, I am told, sunning himself on the roof of their barn.
He is exquisite: Robust, a coat like flame, bushy tail.
Just when all of us could use a belly laugh, the late Shay Bradley of Ireland, decided a year before his death to put the ‘fun’ in funeral.
It appears I’m entering that stage of life in which the standard norms that I, and others of my make and model were raised, no longer apply.
I may have been inadvertently crowned Queen of Stinkbugs by The New Yorker Magazine a year of so ago (still, unbelievably, one of their most read articles), but that doesn’t mean I welcome the little boogers as they make their annual pilgrimage into my house.
D’you know what an American asked me last week when I drove her to the airport?” said my taxi driver as we negotiated our way out of the snarl of West London traffic en route to Heathrow.
Inwardly cringing, as we Yanks have a bit of a reputation, I replied, “Haven’t a clue.”
Twice within the last month, someone has made this comment to me:
“You’re probably a Tall White.”
How do you respond to an accurate, if not disconcerting, summation of your physical characteristics? ‘Thank you for noticing?’ ‘I can’t help being born this way?’ ‘Kinda early to be drinking, isn’t it?’
When my friend, Jessica, asked if I could help a well known animal rescue and sanctuary, I was all about it.
“What do they want me to do, a benefit, or something?” I asked. “Public appearance? Book signing? Put the word out on Facebook?”
Fresh from my folder titled ‘Hey, get off my lawn!’ comes this little ditty.