I can hear the sound of the whistle. The train is nearby. The ground shakes as the freight moves closer. Flashing lights.
I got stopped yesterday at the RR crossing in town. The train was long…and it was in no hurry. I sat for 12 minutes, parked, as the cars rolled by. There is something about a train. I’m not sure what it is…almost mesmerizing…the clack, clack, clack as the cars pass over the rails. Trains slow us down. Whether we like it or not. Yesterday, I chose to like it.
Since I was the first car at the guard, I had a great view of the train car graffiti. Have you ever had opportunity to really look at the graffiti that is sprayed all over the train? Honestly, a lot of it was really good stuff. I know people should not spray paint on other people’s property. It is vandalism. That is just the truth. But, if I owned a train I think I’d hire some kids to “paint” it. Um….I’d call it something like “Art On The Rails”.
One graffiti artist had painted an entire person on the car. I was thoroughly impressed with the detail.
As it turns out, the brief intermission of rail road art was just what I needed.
Living in the moment.
Enjoying something as simple as graffiti.
And I drove away, smiling.
Image via Wikipedia
For the past week or so, on and off, I’ve been blogging about mice. The little field vermin have managed to find their way into my house. Notice I said MY house although they seem to think they have ownership too. My kids (and the cat) caught the one from last week and that is all wonderful and fine, but the furball had relatives…and they are many.
The other evening I was in the pantry looking for some ingredients, so I could whip together a dinner worthy of Taste of Home…..when I heard a scratch. A scratch nearby. I froze. Just then a teeny little head poked it’s way out of a Walmart bag, that I have a pile of, on the pantry floor. I don’t know who was more freaked out. Him or me?! After gaining my composure I stomped (so as to scare him away and not have him run up my pants legs or something) over to where I keep the glue traps. I pulled one out and slapped it down on the floor. Some of you might think I’m cruel, but all is fair in love and war. This is war!
I’m still hearing scratching in the ceiling. I fear that I am going to have to suit up like a character from Ghost Busters, and trek up to the attic. It is unnerving to me….but a woman’s got to do what a woman’s got to do. The attic is shadowy and dark. The puny little light bulb we have up there is not enough. This will give the rodent army the advantage. I on the other hand, like to think that I am much smarter than they are. I can woo them with peanut butter and cheese. Think of it as their last meal because they are dead mice walking.
I assume that they will watch me from the shadows with their beady little eyes. I will tell them, “This house isn’t big enough for the 200 of us. ( I really have no idea the number of mice in the attic. It could be 3 or 3 million, who really knows? They all look the same.) It’s me against you varmints! I will throw down the gauntlet. They will squeak in fear. Or not.
The saga continues…