Stalked by ravens on the way home from work yesterday. Twice.

Stalked again on the way to work this morning. Three times.

I can’t tell if it’s the same ravens each time or if there’s some sort of raven meme going around that’s having random gangs of ravens decide to dive bomb me.

Yesterday it was annoying. This morning I decided to roll with it and play. The ravens announce their intentions with loud squawks so it’s not like they’re trying to disguise what they’re doing. A dive bombing bird is not a silent bird. Gives me plenty of time to duck.

After the second bunch started in this morning I picked up pinecones. The chance of me hitting a raven is next to nil. But ravens (at least these ravens) know what small objects in human hands mean. With most of the birds, all I needed to do to have them keep their distance was show them the cone in my hand. Usually they’d put distance between me and themselves. A couple of them required me to throw the cones in order to get the message.

Went to a wedding down in Sonoma County on May 30. Here are the pictures. No they aren’t good pictures. And, yes, you’ll have to register to see them. Such are the trials and tribulations of living in 21st Century Amerika.

I want a shot. Of Tequila preferably. Because I like Tequila. Because it has that nasty taste that just fits my tongue. Certainly there are other alcohols that are appealing but Tequila insults me like a good friend.

Unfortunately, it’s Sunday here in the Emerald City and that means the state controlled liquor stores are closed. Going to a bar is no fun. With my alcoholic tendencies the bill just gets too high too fast.

Nizzibet has part of a bottle of rum stashed in a cupboard but … yuck.

What do you know? It’s my birthday.

I’ve no plans to do anything special for it. Nizzibet and Jaydogg have decided to help me celebrate sometime in June. Fine with me. One day is pretty much as good as any other. I certainly don’t feel any older. Or more mature.

The fun part will be seeing if Aged Mother remembers what day it is. And whether she sees the need to tell me the ’64 Alaska Earthquake Story again. Heh.

Paul T. Riddell has a weblog.

Who?

Don’t bother me with details son! I did something horrible to that boy in a former life and I’ve got to make up for it somehow.

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And on another note –

Mystery Person? Are you still there?

I’m sorry but I’m just not up for philosophical discussions right now. I wish I were. But that requires an ability to maintain a thought process long enough to explain the reasoning behind said thought process. And I just don’t have that ability right now.

I’d still like to touch base. Find out who you are and what you’ve been doing the last fifteen years. Email me again please!

Apparently Blogger now allows comments. Apparently their commenting system is in need of improvement but let’s test it shall we?

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Nope. Don’t see a field. Maybe later.

Actually, this is just an excuse to link to Wikipedia, the do-it-yourself encyclopedia.

Look up a subject.

Is the entry you found inaccurate, badly written or just plain wrong? Rewrite it!

Don’t find an entry? Create one yourself!

Here’s the entry for the Land of Oz. And here’s one for Oz Squad. Interesting.

My submission to Kaijuphile.com.

I got a call at work. Aged Mother is expecting a package from Esteemed Brother. She has found the lid to the box she received from him last week. Since she is expecting a package this lid must be from that package. A.M. has been bugging Nizzibet wanting to know where her package is. Nizzibet wants me to explain things to A.M.

Ever tried talking to your cat?

This was a similar experience, only this cat speaks English. A.M. insists that somehow the mailman delivered this package while she was sleeping. I ask her what the date on the package is and she reads me the return address. And the mailing address. I thank her and ask her for the date on the package. She starts to read the mailing address again. Sigh. I tell her that I’ll talk to her about it when I get home. I promise her that we’re not hiding her package. She says she knows that but it came so it must be here. I tell her that no package has come. She tells me that I’m lying.

I finally had to hang up because a client called and I am at work. Putting A.M on hold would have just confused her. More. I called back a few minutes later and Nizzibet tells me that A.M is wandering around the house looking for her package.

The Wisdom of Oz – Reflections of a Jungian Sandplay Therapist. Found by way of Schuyler who, when she lived in Japan, lived next to a woman who worked with L. Frank Baum’s great-granddaughter. Apparently her mother’s name was Ozma. She was writing a book at the time about the psychology of Oz and this is it.

There’s a six unit course as well.