Margery Niblock : Things I Could Do Without

Guitargrave

Officer Kent Porter received a call last fall, late in the afternoon, about two teenagers who had stolen DVDs at Guitar Grave, in Portland's downtown area. Porter was met by the store’s owner who said he’d chased one of the thieves down Elm Street and then lost him near Portland High School.

During the chase the youth dropped his cell phone, which was turned over to the officer.

After Porter saw a number for "Mom," he dialed it, got her name and address, and was told her son wasn’t home yet. Now that's making good use of a cell phone. I approve of that!

Police were waiting to arrest the teenage thief upon his arrival. And speaking of Officer Kent Porter, what a name! Whenever I hear it, I always think he should go to Hollywood with that moniker.

What! You Don't Have a Cell Phone?

And now to get back to cell phones, lest I get too distracted. I may be the only person in Portland without a cell phone, and that would include most high school students. I don't need one! I don't have to be available to people every minute of the day. That's the purpose of an answering machine, which I do have.

How about those folks at the supermarket gabbing on their cells? What are they talking about? Whether to purchase Wonder Bread or focaccia?

And then there are all of those people supposedly walking along together; but in so many instances, one of them is blabbing into a mouthpiece.

I see people on cell phones walking with their children; people on cell phones walking dogs; people on cell phones walking alone; people supposedly driving cars who are yakking on cell phones.

I do understand that cell phones have an important function today. They are certainly necessary for people who have professions where they may be called for emergencies. But I've also read that some women carrying cell phones will place themselves into potentially risky situations because they believe the phone carries such an element of safety. That isn't a good thing.

A Carnegie Mellon University study just released has shown that merely listening to a cell phone while driving impairs drivers. The study will be appear in an upcoming edition of Brain Research.

Cell phones are just everywhere. You can't escape them. There are too many cell-phone users who are also inconsiderate of everyone else around them. Restaurants are not places where you should hear ringtones going off every few minutes. There are probably a million different ringtones available, so that everyone with a cell phone can be truly unique. There should be a ban on their use in these establishments.

I'm sure you've come across people who have their hands free while walking down the street and talking on a phone. When you first approach them you get the impression that they're talking to themselves. But they aren't. They're probably speaking to some other nincompoop who's walking down another street spouting gibberish into a phone.

Perhaps cell phones will be given to children at birth. Then they can fit into our manic telephone society as soon as they begin walking and talking.

"Hello Nana!"

Cell Phones and the Hereafter

And would you believe that some people are desirous of being buried with their cell phones?

I'm not really interested in putting profanity on this site, but when someone sent me this road sign, how could I resist? It just sums it all up so well, and so succinctly.

Amen!

How dumb do you have to be to mark up a wall with such ugliness? I guess you'd call that a rhetorical question. And here's the rhetorical answer: pretty f-----g dumb!

Graffiti is ugly—and an offense to the eyes. Here's something that was stenciled onto a bank's wall.

At least someone went to a great deal of effort to create the design for this. "No bank is safe!" from what?

Skunk!

This was taken with a dying battery, and no other light except for the flash. You must forgive me for this poor photograph, but I don't know whether I'll be able to get a good one. I now have several skunks living in my garden, and every evening I'm going outside to be on "skunk watch," in the hopes of getting just one good picture. I'm not greedy. I only want one! Once again, I'll say—stay tuned.

I should more accurately say that I had several living in the garden. At this point there may be just one, which is more than enough for me to deal with. A few weeks ago I saw triplets come out of the tall grass together. I assume they were young animals. I don't know where Mommy was.

Skunk

This is a vast improvement, which was taken almost a week after the one above! I used a small floodlight clipped onto a chair. It is illuminated much more than the first picture, but I still have hopes of getting a better photo. It is somewhat brighter, which is a good thing.

This was a very exciting experience. I was sitting in a chair near the back steps, which is about ten feet away from where the light was focused, on a plate containing bird seed covered with honey; a dog biscuit broken in two; some carrot slices; and pieces of a snow pea. The skunk didn't touch any of that. It didn't even go over to sniff the food. So much for all of the information I researched on the Internet about what skunks like to eat. Perhaps the ones that are in captivity change their tastes if bugs aren't available. So I can dispense with the lures.

There's a positive side to waiting for a skunk to appear. They're very noisy as they waddle through the tall plants. For someone who grew up in the concrete environs of New York City, and then spent several decades living in downtown Philadelphia, it's wonderful to sit quietly in a darkened garden listening for the movement of leaves. It's my communing with Nature. When I'm in that mode, I resent every car that drives up the street. But I do live on a street with relatively little noise.

Aha! I heard a slight rustling, looked to the right, from where the sound came, and saw a big white tail. Skunk! He was making his evening foray. It was near the shed, a couple of feet from Woody's front door. I couldn't see a thing on my camera's screen, but I shot in the area where I thought an image might be captured.

And then he started heading right toward me. That skunk came right up to my foot—within two inches. I sat as still as a statue; but I wasn't going to take the chance of snapping the camera (with the flash) and frightening Skunkie. Oh, no! I do not want to be sprayed. He walked right in front of me and went to the left. Then he turned and came back the same way, once again within a couple of inches from where I was sitting. It drove me wild, not to be able to attempt to take a nice portrait shot of this beautiful animal. I restrained myself until he was closer to the light and farther away from me before letting go with the flash.

I'd read on the Internet about setting up the light. It said that if there was food that a skunk wanted, walking in the lit area wouldn't be a problem. This skunk wasn't at all interested in the vittles, but he walked under the light anyway. So that was an important thing for me to learn.

This headlamp may be a possible solution to the photography dilemma. It was given to me a few years ago, when I was reading one book after another on mountain climbing. I was quite an armchair adventurer. I must have climbed Mt. Everest more than 15 times, and with the best climbers in the world.

I'm going to wear this headlamp and forgo the floodlight. Then I'll be able to direct the light to wherever my little black-and-white friend is lurking.

I'll keep on trying to get better pictures. It's too bad that skunks have such a bad rep. And I really just enjoy sitting quietly and waiting and listening and seeing a skunk so close. Talk about weird!

Roly-Poly Cat

I think this cat is adorable, and I've always enjoyed cats who are willing to play roly-poly. If it lived closer to me I'm sure we'd become good friends.

A Cat Who's a Bimbo

Opie lives across the street and she has a lovely personality; however, she is much too friendly for her own good, although she hasn't come to any harm because of this trait (thank goodness). And I think of her as a "bimbo." I'm really not being derogatory when I describe her that way. That's just how she is.

There's not too much going on upstairs, if you get my drift. I'm quite fond of Opie, but many times I have to race her to my front door. If she sees me coming, she'll try to outrun me so that she can sneak into my house with me when I open the door.

A couple of years ago I was having a new refrigerator delivered and she took that opportunity to dash right into my house, getting under the workmen's feet. I had to scoop her up and place her back outside, firmly closing the door behind her.

Many times she'll just lounge in the middle of the street. I make her move when I see her there. We used to have a mail carrier that Opie was quite fond of and she'd jump into the Jeep whenever she could. She's pleasingly plump and she has a very pretty face. I don't think anyone would mistake her for a male cat. She just looks like a girl.

How Many? As Many as It Takes!

That's a very important question. Many women are trying to figure out the answer to that one. And there are so many frogs, so little time.

I haven't been seeing too much clothing out on the street this summer. Last year was a banner year, but summer's not over so there's still a chance I'll come across something interesting. Undies are always a big hit, especially with male readers.

Toad House

No toads have moved into this charming home. But there's always hope. It was a Christmas present from my neighbors Bea and Michele. They always give me a little something related to frogs, since they know how fond I am of those creatures.

My pet frogs taught me to have patience with animals. I spent a lot of time watching them be still. That patience has served me well with my attempts to photograph Woody. And now the skunk will be the next animal I'll have a chance to practice on with my waiting skills. I do want just one good photograph of a skunk.

And just as an aside, I have a bat house that's been empty since I put it up 18 years ago. So if you know any bats looking for a nice home, send them this way. It's suitable for several. It's not a bachelor pad. It's in a quiet neighborhood; lots of good eating; not too much light. Maybe posting it here will do the trick. If not, I wonder if bats read Craigslist.

Bathouse

Forgive Me . . . Please

I took this on August 8, but I haven't seen him since then. He also hasn't touched the last peach I left. I must admit I'm concerned. If he wanders too far away he'll be trapped, and then taken several miles from this neighborhood. I would be heartbroken if that happens, but I'm preparing myself for the possibility. I like having my pseudo-pet in the garden.

Oh, good! He's taken a few bites from the last peach. Now I can relax. He's still around.

In the Market for a House?

If I were four, I'd love to have this as a little play house. But alas, I'm not the proper age. They didn't have such things when I was four, at least not in the Bronx. And I don't have a four-year-old child anymore, so I won't be buying this home.

Nice Eagle

Eagle