Friday, March 4, 2011

It Don’t Matter. Really?

     For those of us who are very indecisive or who are usually just along for the ride in life…this restaurant may be perfect…maybe. During a recent trip, my children and I were depending on a trusty GPS to get us from one destination to another. Some people hate these modern conveniences. I…blindly depend on them like they were some life support system. Now don’t berate me just yet, I have actually depended on a map a time or two in my life and have even followed the once “new fangled” invention of MapQuest, etc. (without even re-entering the addresses backward and forward so as to get the directions to and from exact). That’s right! Momma reversed the directions using a little common sense (very little, but I got back OK).


     Alright…sorry for the above paragraph that had little to nothing to do with the point of this post. So, we were headed to our next town at an extremely late evening hour passing through towns and down roads I had never heard of and tried in vain to imagine the origin of their names when we came across the following “side of the road”, “mom and pop” diner (or at least I’m guessing it was - it was too late to go in and confirm by this time of evening): “It Don’t Matter Family Restaurant”. Ok. I'm not going to pen my thoughts about this one.  I want your thoughts splattered on my page!  Any comments?

     You might even want to share what might have brought about the end of the Breakfast Buffet?

Please! Share with me, friends.

Bonding Over Buzzards

     No, I don’t have a morbid fascination with buzzards.  And no, I haven't moved to a desert.  I would like to observe, however, that it was very weird when last year, within a couple weeks' time, I had a very strange second sighting of buzzards in my area…a little too close for comfort. I wrote one entry called “Omen, Anyone?” where I shared a picture of two buzzards who had landed on a cross on top of a steeple. Strange as that was, weeks later, we were headed home when the kiddos and I saw two buzzards perched in a birdbath in front of a small house. “What are those!?” we all resounded. As we got closer, I couldn’t resist but to slow the car down for a better look…and besides, no one was home at the time (I hoped). Realizing that they were the same type of ominous bird I had seen earlier, I laughed then mused, “Well, isn’t this coincidental?”


     Being one that believes I have to prove what I’m telling, I ran home to grab my camera in hopes that no one would return to this quaint little home, and that the buzzards wouldn’t make their grand exit until I could make it back. As luck would have it, they were still happily (can buzzards exude happiness?) on the birdbath involved in some imaginary conversation I had projected upon them. (I think one of them was telling the other, “Paparazzi! Can you believe this lady? She actually went all the way home to get her camera!” I was only brave enough to pull over on the opposite side of the road and snap a couple of quick pics.

     The fowl must’ve decided that they could get a mile out of this ole gal after they had given me a yard. The next day, they weren't there.  Suddenly, two days later, they appeared again, this time, closer to the house. This pattern continued and, in the coming weeks, we began to notice that there hadn’t been a car at this house in quite a while. Oh yeah…you imaginative types already had your creative juices flowing before I got to this point, didn’t you? You can imagine the stories that began to grow in that little car on our way "to and from" every day. Of course, we always used reason…well, most of the time.

     Finally, the brave little scavengers had made it onto the porch! That’s right. They were comfortably and confidently hanging out at their new vacation/love shack/"dead person must be inside" house. We kept the trusty camera in the car and flashed a couple of see-it-to-believe-it photos when they were spotted. Finally, one day, they were no more…they had moved on…flown the coop (sorry – corny, I know, but as my friend says…God just made me this way).

     Now, as interesting as this story is…it doesn’t end there.  Recently one of our co-workers bit the dust to retirement, so of course the position had to be filled. Upon chatting one day and getting to know the new person, I was sharing with her where I lived. When I stated the street name, she exclaimed, “Oh, yes! I know that road! Listen, I have the funniest story about driving down that road.” I couldn’t help but stand there, mouth agape, as she recited to me how she and her family had been riding down that particular stretch of road and saw…these two buzzards sitting in a bird bath!

     OMW!! (Oh my word!!) I laughed and laughed! She looked at me as if I’d lost it…I mean, finally lost it. I told her to hold on and grabbed my camera. I began to scroll through the photos and she began to laugh and share with me that it had unnerved them so that they had called the sheriff! (I hate to admit it, but I think we had all thought of that as we passed by – never any cars at that little house, scavengers inhabiting the yard and porch for weeks, then suddenly…gone. (Oh, please! Like you were thinking it!)

     There haven't been any more scavenger birds and there's almost always someone home now at the little house on the side of the road.  Wonder if the sheriff ever found anything…hummm?  I also wonder what the buzzards are talking about as we speak, “Hey Alfred (is that a buzzard name?), you remember that time we had those people going…man, we even sat on the porch just to freak ‘em out a little.” “Yeah, Sherman, that was a good one!” And who would’ve thought two co-workers could’ve bonded over buzzards.