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Monthly Archives: August 2011

and I feel stupid. I only opened a twitter account so I could follow one of my favorite authors. A real pithy, take the piss out of you kind of guy who tweets at most, once a day. I can handle that. And I follow some publishers (no Penguin Books, I don’t feel like sharing my favorite book with you, I just want to be left alone!) in the vain hopes of whining to the right one and they finally get To Kill A Mockingbird onKindle. Whatever.

So, what is in my email box the other day? Some nut (would have to be) is now following me. Really? REALLY? Are you serious? I have no profile filled out. I had tweeted nothing at this point and I still get a follower? What is this world coming to?

I did the only thing someone who is really in touch with their inner bitch would do. I tweeted one lone tweet and as g-d is my witness it’s all I ever intend to tweet What did I tweet? Think of what a policeman says at the scene of a really grisly crime scene to rubbernecking bystanders.

After all these years Fred can still surprise me. The other day I was writing in Fred’s log book the activities of the day. Fred is notorious for being unable to communicate effectively , hence some written down facts to verify Fred’s responses to “what work did you do today?”  The usual response is “screws” when in fact Fred actually worked on heat sealing or some other equally fun task.

Fred was lurking by the table as I got the log book out, flipped through the pages until I found the right one. I always date the entries and I wondered outloud to myself “is today the first or the second?” I was checking my watch when Fred said calmly “the second.” And I was impressed on many levels. One, it was in Fred’s voice, not someone else (a rarity since Fred is nothing if not a dead on mimic and mocker) and Fred was correct. And then Fred added “…..or fourth.” Which just cracked me up inside because Fred at this point was just messing with me.

It wasn’t until later that night that I realized that little exchange showed me just how much Fred has it going on upstairs. I do give Fred a lot more credit than most folks do. Fred acts like reading was never mastered but I’m not so sure. Math skills? Just horrid. Fred tests out at, oh….kindergarten level, possibly first grade because frankly I don’t think there is a test designed that would accurately assess just what is going on in Fred’s head And quite frankly, I don’t think Fred actually cares or cared about reading, writing and arithmetic.

But Fred pulled out the correct day and the correct label, second, not two and then fourth not four. Who knew Fred was paying attention to calendar time? Who knew Fred even cared?

Yes Fred does have it going on, in a splinter skill kind of way.  The fact remains Fred does not communicate well at all and does not process verbal directives accurately. I told Fred to give the ball to Joe,  and I even was pointing to the ball that was rolling past Fred. Fred probably heard only give Joe ball and since it was me doing the directing  handed Joe the ball Fred was using. Not what I meant at all!  And the result was Fred was done playing ball becuase Fred will only use one ball and not trade off to another. Still don’t know why that rule exists.

Nor do I believe there is a genius lurking in Fred’s head. Sure, smarter than credited, but what good would those smarts be when Fred doesn’t (refuses to) uses them?

A phenomenon rarely observed in the suburbs but we had strong evidence of it last night. DH had gone to harvest some of the lone remaining crop, tomatoes. He carefully monitors their ripeness and so far has managed to pick them ahead of the tomato snacking vermin. He came in the kitchen clutching his prized tomatoes and exclaimed with disgust “there was a rabbit in the garden!” Yes, the bunny had exploited the beat down fencing that the deer had so nicely pushed right down to ineffectualness (damn, that is a word?). Peter R. hopped right in, thankyouverymuch and was probably sitting there wondering why there weren’t any more bean plants coming up. Uh huh, sorry, we’re done feeding you. And just wait till next year! You’ll see! A proper fence is in the works. Higher! Reinforcing chicken wire dug in deeper! and if I had my way, electrified.

Or why typos make it to post. Whatever. Damn vitreous detachment and its stellar ability to cloud my field of vision combined with the black type on white background that isn’t the best for me to see, coupled with my brain getting ahead of my fingers and you get some sort of dyslexic typos from hell that I don’t always catch until it’s in white on black.

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