On the brink of whatever

It's early spring, muddy, misty, blue one moment and gray the next. No real green yet, aside from a stray blade here and there in well-kept lawns (not mine). One very small triangle of new miniature iris leaf in my yard.

I took stuff to the post office, including Minicon registrations. Some of the clerks had green Mardi Gras beads or green and rather battered plastic leis around their necks. I'd forgotten it was St. Patrick's Day. Who will rid us of our human snakes?

Walked home from Eric's. Toliman was very wary of sounds he could hear and I couldn't, but he also purred a lot. The walk home was perfect in its way. I found my own cat once back here and took him out on his leash. He remembers the drill. We went all around the front and back and side yards.

On the north side of house there was a huge spill of pigeon feathers, from whole gray-blue wing feathers to small bits of fluff and down. No blood, no bones, only feathers, but all of them, as far as I could see. Do hawks pluck their kills? It was not gross, not bloody, but inexpressibly horrible to look at, like a very bad omen in a nightmare. Ari thought it was fascinating, but I got him distracted shortly.

As we stood in the back yard, having made it safely back around past the omen, a small wedge of ducks flew overhead, moving from pale blue to blue-white to pink to orange for their background, into the westering sun.

I want to go home, but I am home. I wish to God Eric were safe here instead of somewhere from which he must fly to be here. I wish New York were safe. I wish everyone were safe. But there is that useful survival, the subjunctive. For conditions contrary to fact.

Pamela

Less lorn

I am sitting here trying to eat edamame and type at the same time. Luckily salt is not very sticky.

Eric called. He couldn't talk long, but the essential things were said, and we should be able to have a longer conversation tomorrow. My thanks to people who put kindly statements in my comments section, and my email correspondent, and to David and Lydy, for patience, and to Beth, who kindly called my cellphone with hers so that I could be sure mine was working; and especially to Raphael, who exhibited monumental patience and sympathy, and only said, "Are you fourteen now?" once early on.

I might cop to sixteen. It's a pity it's my psyche and not my skin that's that way.

Pamela

I should mention that Raphael and I are catching up on "Farscape" episodes and are impressed, entranced, and, in a meta sense, apprehensive. All I can say is, the Sci-Fi Channel really is TRYING to PUT itself out of BUSINESS. Feh.

Sunday Beth came over to talk to Lydy about Minicon programming, and they and David snagged me to go out for dinner. We tried to go to Pizza Luce, but it was jammed and noisy, so we ended up at It's Greek To Me. I had swordfish and many vegetables. The swordfish was definitely not undercooked. I like my fried eggs hard too, but this may have been a bit overdone. I liked it, though. Must remember not to let Eric order fish there, however.

It was a very pleasant occasion and made me think better of socializing.