Place entry #4:

This afternoon, I took a walk around my small circle. It has been extremely windy out, and I was worried about it too much yesterday to take the walk I wanted. This afternoon, though, the wind has died down somewhat, and while it isn't as warm as it has been this week, the sun is bright and shining and I only need my light jacket, no gloves.

As I set out from my house and turn right, I notice right away that there are about four newspapers in my driveway, two of which are crushed and pulpy. I resolve to pick them up on the way back, but I know I will forgot or just decide not to. They are not my newspapers. As I continue walking down the sidewalk, I see an empty plastic vodka bottle thrown into the yard between my house and my neighbor's. I resolve to pick it up on my way back, but I know I will forget. I keep walking, down toward the abandoned house on the corner. A man has started up his car and is going back inside his house for something. We barely acknowledge each other, maybe a nod of the head, maybe not.

I turn right before I hit the abandoned house. A small dog with whom I am familiar barks at me from inside the house on my right. Next to that, a large dog starts barking, too.  I hear the own yell for it to shut up. I can see it in the window seat, and it is panting and whining and wants to come out and jump on me. It is brown, I think, but there is some glare so maybe it isn't.

There are all sorts of round pine-cone type things on the ground. They remind me of sea urchins from a book my mother used to read to me when I was little. When I step on them, their spines crunch but their round bodies stay strong and do not flatten. They cover the sidewalk all the way down this road. I idly kick a few, and they don't go very far. I step on several, and their spines flatten, sometimes with a satisfying crunch but with all the rain we had over the last two days most are too soggy for that.

I turn right again. I am a block behind my house now, catty-corner from it. I could see it through the trees if I tried, but I don't need to. Besides, on this block you need to watch where you step. Right as I think that, I notice a huge pile of dog shit on the left of the sidewalk, easily several days old. A few feet later, there is another, just on the side walk off the grass on the right. I am disgusted. I resolve to bring big bags with me next time, and triple bag this stuff. I won't remember. There is some broken glass a few more feet down the lane. I avoid it.

At the end of the block, the house has the whole corner fenced in for their three Caviler King Charles Spaniels. The dogs are not out today, which is good. They are vicious, and usually snarl and bark at anyone who comes by. I take my time as I turn right again, looking at the trees that grow inside the fence. There are a lot, five or six, and the yard seems extra big, fenced in from the front to the very back all along the side. There are leaves still on them, a few anyway, but the ground isn't very grassy. A small stuffed dog wearing a Santa hat has been abandoned in the middle of the yard. I have seen the brown dog that lives here carry it with him when he is outside. There is some sort of trash against the fence, but I can't make out what. It's papery. Soon I am at the backyard that I share with the left side of my duplex. There is an empty fast food cup in the grass. A few feet up from that, a beer can. My neighbor's trashcan is on its side in the front yard, possibly blown over by the wind, maybe left there after trash day Thursday. It's not my problem.

I turn right again, the last time. I am at my house. I am thirsty and have to pee. I check that I have my keys and go in the front door, ignoring the newspapers. M. will pick them up when she comes to see me next time.

Coming into the neighborhood, there is a sign that says "NEIGHBORHOOD WATCH. WE REPORT ANY SUSPICIOUS ACTIVITY." This implies that we take pride in our neighborhood, and consider it our home, in the "where the heart is" sense of the word.

But we sure as hell won't clean up after ourselves.

Prompt Post 3.2: My Nemesis. I don't care if it is "harmless."

A decent nemesis always shares some element with you; otherwise, beating them doesn't allow any catharsis. Anyone can defeat some random encounter. Defeating yourself, overcoming yourself, growing beyond yourself: that is the purpose of a nemesis.Of course, this doesn't mean that a nemesis isn't also very creepy; usually, they are. Mine is no exception.

The camelback cricket prefers to live in dark, damp spaces. It survives best in basements and garages if it isn't out in the wild living in caves and under rocks. It relies heavily on its sense of touch, as it only comes out at night. The actual body of a camelback is very small, at most only two inches long, which reminds me somehow of a tank, armored and strong. One of its nicknames, the spider cricket, comes from its incredibly long legs--they can be up to four inches in length. As mentioned in a previous post, it has been known to eat its own legs in times of extreme starvation.

When frightened, the camel back cricket jumps toward the stimulus. Given its odd shaped body, and the fact that it can jump so very far--it has been described as an insect "on pogo sticks"--this is usually enough for the attacker to run away screaming (at least in my experience). This then gives the cricket time to run away and hide. The bravado masks what I already know: this is a harmless creature. Fearless and harmless.

So I wonder, then: why am I so afraid of this little bug?What sends me running from the room when I see them, usually yelling, on the verge of tears?

And that, right there, is the answer to my question. The reason I hate this little bugger so much: When a camel back cricket is afraid, it faces its enemies and attacks.

When I am afraid, I run away, crying.

Prompt #3.1: My Nemesis. The Camelback Cricket.

According to Wikipedia (and they would know!): The camelback cricket has been known to eat it's own extremities in times of extreme starvation. Their legs and antennae grow extra big and long for just this purpose (also to help them see in the dark, but I'm going to focus on the "voluntary self cannibalism" thing).

So basically, I have chosen as my nemesis a bug that will willingly eat itself to survive, and has evolved in such a way to make that EASIER.

I'm screwed.

Place #3: The moon: A complaint

The moon was full last weekend and the beginning of this week. It was bright, illuminating the street much better than the old fashioned lamp outside my house. The extremely clear skies that led to the dropping temperatures also allowed the light of the sun to reflect perfectly off the moon.

On Sunday I went to a friend's house to watch the Superbowl. Her husband is a park ranger, and they live in the park, away from the main road and civilization. When I was there a few weeks ago, her sky was brimming with stars, more than I will ever see on my nightly walks with Sadie here. I was excited to see them again, and I went outside after dinner (around 6:00) to look at them, much to M.'s and the hostess's amusement.

But they were gone, obscured by the light of the moon. The moon itself looked pale--paler than usual, almost washed out by the vibrancy of its reflected light. The sky was clear, and the night was perfect, in terms of stargazing conditions. Except for the moon.

I tried for a few moments, but even my beloved Orion was hard to find. I trampled back into the house a few minutes later, frustrated. My opportunity to stargaze for a while had been swallowed up in the light.

Monday night, as I took Sadie for her walk, I again found that it was bright out, this time at 9:00 PM. As we made our stop in the back yard, I looked up, and once again, the moon was there--bright white, like a halogen bulb in an oncoming car. Orion was gone. My touchstone was missing. I felt out of place. I curse the full moon, boring and bright as it was.

On Tuesday, Sadie and I went to pick up M. for our daily walk. It was about 5:00 or so, a little too early for true dusk, but getting there. As Sadie and I crossed the street to wait in front of the apartments, I noticed a pale yellow light through the trees, right above the horizon, barely over the tops of the houses and the fenced in back yard where the three Great Danes live. I assumed the street lights were coming on, and ignored it. Daisy and M. came out of the house, and the dogs pulled us toward the dumpsters, behind the apartments. As we walked, the trees thinned a little, and we turned right down the street to start our loop.

There, on the horizon, hung the moon. It was a welcoming, pale yellow, no longer the painful white. It rode just above the houses, low in the sky. Instead of vibrant white light, the moon fairly glowed, like a gold necklace newly shined. The sky behind it was darkening, which made the moon stand out even more--like a fire on a cold night, giving warmth.

Hey, check out the moon, I said to M.
Wow, M replied.

We walked for a little while in quiet after that.

I'd forgotten that there was beauty outside of a few stars.

Prompt post 2

Each night when I take Sadie out to pee, I follow the same routine. Open my venetian blinds using the long pole  I unlock my sliding door. I flip the light switch for my back porch, and slide the door open a quarter of the way. Sadie and I step outside, she usually rushing to the grass, and I step out onto the cold concrete, usually barefoot. I leave the door behind me open, the long blind pole hanging in the middle of the opening. I make sure Sadie isn’t running after a rabbit—if her ears are up, I pay attention. If she is just sniffing around, I know we’re safe—and I look up.
        On a clear night, I get a good look at the stars. When the night isn't clear, it's OK. Over the fence there is a low glow from the street lamp on the corner, and it mixes with the mist in the air, giving the night a dream quality. Anything could happen in soft light like that.
         When they are there, I spend more time looking at them than I do watching Sadie. I don't know many constellations, but that usually isn't the point. In the summer I will put a blanket down and put sadie on a string and we will sit and gaze at the stars and think of nothing. The stars will ask nothing of me but to be there, and I will ask nothing of them but their company. We will sit in companionable silence, old friends meeting again after time apart, until Sadie jumps on my face, or cries to go back inside.
         A few times I've gotten lost in the reverie, missed her stand stock still, ears at attention, and then all of the sudden she's gone, running after one of the rabbits that lives in the bushes in the back yard. I call to her, and sometimes she turns right back around. Once she made it to the yard catty corner from ours, and I thought she'd be lost in the dark. She pranced back a few minutes later, and stood by the door, waiting to be let in. Last night it was raining, and Sadie wouldn’t go outside. We went through our ritual, up until I opened the door. She hurried outside, made a comical turn-around on three legs, and then hunkered right back inside