The 8th Sign of the Apocalypse...

... Karen actually submits a post. I've been to Plum Island almost every day for the past week-- it's tree swallow migration time, a new end of summer/beginning of fall ritual for me to enjoy. Every evening around sunset, thousands-- and I mean thousands-- of tree swallows sweep over the island as they prepare to roost for the night.

So I leave work, drive to the Parker River Wildlife Refuge, and park in the dirt lot at the "North Pool Overlook"-- a favorite roosting place of said swallows. After drowning myself liberally in insect repellant, I ensconce myself on the hood of my car, and spend the next few hours watching the show. To my right, unbelievable sunsets over the river-- even though it's August, the slight evening chill of fall has been in the air, and the sunsets are decidedly fall-like as well. More pink and orange with lots of streaky clouds than the humid hazy reds of high summer. To my left, the moon-rise over the scrub pines. And all around me, swarming, swirling-- swallows, swallows, swallows.

They come in waves, sweeping the fields and then up over the dike and skimming the pond, in a pre-bedtime feeding frenzy. The air is thick with them, and they chatter incessantly as they swirl, oblivious to anything-- or anyone-- in their way. It's like being in a giant snowglobe that someone has just shaken frantically; they sweep so close to me that I could reach out and grab one if only I were quick enough.

And then, in the blink of an eye, as though one single bird has perhaps given the grand cue, they roost.

Silence.

I drive home with the windows down and the radio off, feeling like I'm 13 and there just might be a door to a magical land at the back of my closet...

Greetings from Atlanta

My brain's in a bit of a jumble since it's Sunday night and I'm not at home suffering from the (somehow comforting) Sunday blahs, but instead am sitting in a large hotel room taking advantage of the high speed internet connection and the A/C. I feel like it won't even be fair to say that I've been to Atlanta since this will be an airport => hotel => office => airport type trip. My thoughts so far about Atlanta have been as follows:

1. Wow, it's hot
2. Look at all those green trees
3. Where's downtown? Oh wait, you mean we just passed it?
4. Why is everyone in this hotel tan?

Profound, huh? People should pay me to make such stunning observations. ;)

In any case, my favorite conversational tidbit of the day was provided by the man sitting behind me in the shuttle bus to the hotel. Five of the eight passengers were discussing various topics including where we all hailed from and how much gas cost in our respective areas (Pensacola won with $2.79 per gallon; I could have claimed to have seen $3.09 on the Palisades, but we had actually paid $2.49 before getting onto the Palisades, so I thought that wouldn't quite be fair). He said to us at some point "That was the first flight I've taken since 1972."

I goggled at him. "How have you managed that?" I asked.

"I don't leave the country," he said.

I didn't know what to do with this information, I honestly didn't. I mean, even if you don't leave the country, it's still a pretty big country -- big enough to need to fly around in. I mean, you could technically drive around the continental US, but it would take such a staggering amount of time all you'd be doing is, well, driving (yes, Karen, I see you smirking and saying "the journey IS the destination"...). The entire topic of not leaving the country -- that I'll save for another day.

In any case, I wish I had asked him where he'd taken his last flight in 1972.

Okay -- time for bed.

I Heart Fup. Store Cat.

I have never ordered a book from Powell's, but I receive their bi-weekly newsletter, and after forcing myself to look at the headline book (which I do out of some sense of obligation I think), I scroll all the way to the bottom of the e-mail to read about Fup, Store Cat and her adventures. I found this edition's installment particularly poignant. Read it here:

Fup. Store Cat.

Another Cat Photo??

Another photo?

Poor Mew Mew. He puts up with a lot -- hot weather, a clingy younger brother (who was the star of the last, ill-fated, mobile post), and now multiple photos snapped using my new phone. I'm trying blogger's mobile blogging feature again, even though my last mobile post somehow "disappeared" on some server somewhere, never to be seen again on this blog. (As a database support person who receives posts like "I was entering a Client record into the database and then it just disappeared!!!!" I cannot believe that data disappears. It just "fails to save" or exists in some other unexpected location). I'm wondering if the issue isn't the act of editing the post after saving it. I posted the image and caption via phone, but am now editing the post and adding text...we'll see what happens next. I apologize in advance to those of you who use Bloglines and may end up with a "ghost" posting.

In any case, it's now about 85 and humid in the apartment and I'm stuck here waiting for Fresh Direct to deliver the groceries they promised would arrive between 11am - 1pm. I got a recorded call at 1:11 announcing that there were delays of up to an hour. Having just taught a seminar on customer servce last week, I then announced to no one in particular that Fresh Direct should have set that expectation BEFORE 1pm instead of almost 15 minutes later. Then I realized that the mere fact of having groceries delivered precludes the right to complain (although service is service...so I can complain from that perspective). Next week I'll think we'll go back to Whole Foods.

Sigh. Okay -- time to figure out what to read next. Just finished Witch Child (which I enjoyed but didn't love). Now I'm considering Red House (to continue a sort of New England history theme...).

More later...