First there was that poor sad little bird in Warwickshire that thought that Cadbury eggs were her brood (and protected them accordingly--see blog entry somewhere below), and now this story of the badass seagull that steals Doritos out of a Scottish convenience store:
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/scotland/north_east/6907994.stm
I love seagulls. I think I'm the only person on the planet who does, but I just think they rock the house. Not only does their call remind me of the beach, which is a wonderful thing, but I also really admire their chutzpah, as evidenced in the link above. Back when we were really young, my sister and I once sprinkled our aunt's back with french fries as she slept soundly on her beach towel (this was at the Jersey Shore). Within seconds, that segment of the beach was like a scene out of a Hitchcock movie. Gulls were everywhere; the air was thick with them. She was screaming and flailing her arms while my sister and I giggled like little idiots, which we were. It's a miracle she still talks to us.
You know, I might have to try that stunt on my sister the next time we go down the shore together. I'm thinking my aunt will be the first to volunteer to help.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Friday, July 13, 2007
Amazing news story
Check out this story from the Washington Post about a robbery that took a bizarre turn.
I wouldn't have expected this to happen in DC, but it did. Wow.
I wouldn't have expected this to happen in DC, but it did. Wow.
Sunday, July 1, 2007
Ow
I've been rollerblading for some time now. I'm not very good (I'm not one of those who zips in and out of traffic or anything--hell, I won't even skate anywhere but flat, smooth paths), but in the years that I've been skating, I've fallen only once or twice. Even when I hit a rut, I can steady myself and get right back into the groove.
I made up for years of injury-free skating today, though. My day started out beautifully. I rolled out of bed at 7:30, hopped in my car, and drove under a bright blue sky to the Philadelphia Art Museum--the end point of a spectacular skating loop along the Schuylkill. I grabbed my gear and skipped toward the entrance to West River Drive--a mostly four-lane road, mostly smooth as glass, that, along with its sibling road on the other side of the river, Kelly Drive, the city shuts down to traffic so that people like me can bike and play and skate and generally revel in the glory of car-free asphalt. And revel I did. The west side of the river has exquisite views of the boathouses on the east side, making for a workout that's more pleasure than work. Therein, counterintiutively, lies the problem: it's so easy to be distracted by the scenery on the loop (horsie stable! purty trees! purty river with rowers and stuff!) that one tends to pay less attention to the task at hand.
One pays big attention, however, when one hits a small stone in the middle of the road that causes one to wipe out in dramatic fashion. Yes, kids, I hit it in just the right way with my left skate that it sent me airborne. I landed in a heap on my right side, with big ol' scrapes on my knee and elbow. Sure, I wear protective gear on my head and my wrists, but not, naturally, on my knees and elbows. I now have bruises on my ass, hip, and thigh, and road rash on my shoulder... in addition to the aforementioned scrapes. The whole right side of my body is either sore and/or bloody and/or bruised.
But here's the thing: there's something strangely invigorating about such an injury. It serves as a reminder, at least to me, of just how remarkable the human brain is. The entire fall took maybe a second or two, but I can recall vividly the thoughts that raced through my brain from the instant my wheel hit the stone. "I can't stop. I'm totally going to fall. I can't believe this is happening. Good thing I'm wearing a helmet. Good thing I have wrist guards. I find it highly amusing in an ironic way that I'm landing on my knee and elbow, both unprotected. And, wow, there goes the ass--good thing I have my sneakers tied to my belt loop, because I appear to be landing on them as well, which is cushioning my fall at least a little bit. Will I be able to skate back? Eh, I seem to be okay. Ooh, I hope I didn't break my phone."
All of that was in the course of perhaps a second. Maybe that's not so remarkable, but I remember thinking, "Go Brain! Way to race like that!" after I stood up and dusted myself off.
Crap. I was going to go into more with this about how super neato our brains are and all that, but my sister just griped that she needs her computer back, leaving this entry completely lacking in a compelling conclusion. A pox on her!
So, um, go take your brain out for an ice cream cone this week. And wear a helmet when skating. The end.
I made up for years of injury-free skating today, though. My day started out beautifully. I rolled out of bed at 7:30, hopped in my car, and drove under a bright blue sky to the Philadelphia Art Museum--the end point of a spectacular skating loop along the Schuylkill. I grabbed my gear and skipped toward the entrance to West River Drive--a mostly four-lane road, mostly smooth as glass, that, along with its sibling road on the other side of the river, Kelly Drive, the city shuts down to traffic so that people like me can bike and play and skate and generally revel in the glory of car-free asphalt. And revel I did. The west side of the river has exquisite views of the boathouses on the east side, making for a workout that's more pleasure than work. Therein, counterintiutively, lies the problem: it's so easy to be distracted by the scenery on the loop (horsie stable! purty trees! purty river with rowers and stuff!) that one tends to pay less attention to the task at hand.
One pays big attention, however, when one hits a small stone in the middle of the road that causes one to wipe out in dramatic fashion. Yes, kids, I hit it in just the right way with my left skate that it sent me airborne. I landed in a heap on my right side, with big ol' scrapes on my knee and elbow. Sure, I wear protective gear on my head and my wrists, but not, naturally, on my knees and elbows. I now have bruises on my ass, hip, and thigh, and road rash on my shoulder... in addition to the aforementioned scrapes. The whole right side of my body is either sore and/or bloody and/or bruised.
But here's the thing: there's something strangely invigorating about such an injury. It serves as a reminder, at least to me, of just how remarkable the human brain is. The entire fall took maybe a second or two, but I can recall vividly the thoughts that raced through my brain from the instant my wheel hit the stone. "I can't stop. I'm totally going to fall. I can't believe this is happening. Good thing I'm wearing a helmet. Good thing I have wrist guards. I find it highly amusing in an ironic way that I'm landing on my knee and elbow, both unprotected. And, wow, there goes the ass--good thing I have my sneakers tied to my belt loop, because I appear to be landing on them as well, which is cushioning my fall at least a little bit. Will I be able to skate back? Eh, I seem to be okay. Ooh, I hope I didn't break my phone."
All of that was in the course of perhaps a second. Maybe that's not so remarkable, but I remember thinking, "Go Brain! Way to race like that!" after I stood up and dusted myself off.
Crap. I was going to go into more with this about how super neato our brains are and all that, but my sister just griped that she needs her computer back, leaving this entry completely lacking in a compelling conclusion. A pox on her!
So, um, go take your brain out for an ice cream cone this week. And wear a helmet when skating. The end.
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