Jonathan Livingston Swallow

Nice swallow posing.  CLICK TO ENLARGE.
Nice swallow posing. CLICK TO ENLARGE.

As best I can tell from the collective ornithological knowledge on the internet, this is a tree swallow. He seemed to enjoy sitting on a wire and gazing at an open field rather than hanging out in a tree. Jonathan Livingston Swallow.

“That’s Crazy!”

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I went running this afternoon despite the pouring rain that has been soaking New Jersey all day (and is forecast to continue into tomorrow). Five soggy miles that were the most refreshing part of my day. With the amount of aggravation I’ve been coping with at work lately, I was pretty much living for this run today. In the morning, a coworker asked, “You’re not going out there in this weather, are you?” I assured her, “Yes! I need to get away from my cube!” To which she replied, “That’s crazy! You must really hate your job!” I ventured out around 1:30 in the afternoon.

The rain wasn’t all that bad. It stung my face a little now and then. It got chilly in the wind for a while. But I must have somewhat of a half-drowned spectacle near the end because somewhere close to the four mile mark, while my sweatpants and jacket were thoroughly soaked and weighed half a ton each, a car slowed down. The driver lowered a window and blew the horn as I was passing by. I stopped thinking that maybe she needed directions.

“Do you need a ride somewhere or something?”

“Excuse me?”

“Do YOU need a RIDE? Can I help you?”

“Ohhhh! No! I’m out for a run!”

That gal’s eyes opened so wide, I thought she was Marty Feldman for a second!

“THAT’S CRAZY!”

“Noooo! I only have a mile to go! Thanks!”

I sloshed my way through that last mile.

I guess some people think going out in the rain is crazy. It’s just water. As long as there is no lightning and no high winds, I love running in the rain.

Here is what is crazy: at the end of that five miles in the rain, I am still 25 pounds overweight. THAT is crazy. That is like carrying around a large bag of dog food every day. I am 214 right now. I lost 8 pounds over the last 3 weeks. Four years ago I was tipping the scale at 236. I lost 40 pounds over several months. Slowly over the next three years, I gained over half of it back. That has to change. I’m tired of carrying dog food. I’d rather be healthy, even if it requires being a little crazy once in a while.

Voodoo Peeps Reprise

In praise of Easter, the ubiquitous Peeps, and, well, the desire for revenge – I give you “Voodoo Peeps.”

This tasty little tidbit was written in July, 2003. Like Peeps, it’s one of my favorites.

If you’re really angry at someone today, maybe this article will prevent you from murdering them. Happy Easter.

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“Voodoo Peeps”
(originally posted here: Heron Flight Rand-O-Blog – July, 2003)

Ever feel like biting someone’s head off? Have a few people on your scene who deserve to have their heads chewed off and spit out like a piece of rancid beef? Would you do it if you knew you could get away with it?

Well… Until you come up with your plan for the perfect head chomping crime, I’ve got a little diversion for you. VOODOO PEEPS! These little peckers are oh so willing to vicariously give their lives in place of the big peckers in your life who really deserve to have there heads gnawed off. And it keeps you out of trouble!

First, start with a fresh box of marshmallow Peeps at Easter time. Remove the wrapping and put the box away somewhere. Forget about it until July, when the Peeps are perfectly stale. (They’re best that way!)

Let those peeps stale for a few months.
Let those peeps get stale for a few months.

Then, when some fowl excuse for a human being gets your tail feathers all in a knot, remove one of your little Peep friends from the box. (Note: Though you are peeved and all in a huff like a hen who just laid the mother of all eggs, be gentle in removing the Peep so as not to tear the guts out of his fellow beside him. You will need him at a later date for sure. Jerks of a feather flock together. If you have one jerk in your life, more are bound to follow.) Carefully position the Peep within your finger tips, using your pinky as a perch for your sugar-feathered friend.

The perfect Peep
The perfect Peep

Step three, the most satisfying part of the process: With gusto and delight, with soaring abandon, yet with precision, bite the hell out of his little soft body and rip his head right off his mallow shoulders! Do it as a starved buzzard who hasn’t seen a rotting carcass in weeks! Birds do not have teeth, but you do! Do your carnivorous worst! Bare those canines! Chomp down! Fill his jugular with all of your venemous anger!

Off with his head!
Off with his head!

But! Before you swallow, savor the moment! Toss his little egg-head around within your cheeks! Allow his sticky little cranium to migrate from one side of your mouth to the other! Suck his little brains out and feel your frustrations flock away as so many startled sparrows!

Is that a Peep in your mouth or are you just happy to see me?
Is that a Peep in your mouth or are you just happy to see me?

Ingest and smile!

Nice beard.
Nice beard.

Feel better? I knew you would! (A little birdy told me!)

May the purple Peep of happiness send droppings of peace upon you always! (Send pieces of droppings on you always?? Nah!!)