Sunday, November 1, 2009

A Siberian Visitor, Idiot Republicans, and the Real Pink Mafia

Sunday, November 1st, 2009. We changed the clocks last night (finally), but I'm not convinced it's fall. It's warm, and we have been sleeping with the windows open. I ask the wife's permission to cross the Orange Curtain into Orange County to chase the Bar-tailed Godwit. She says, "Yes, do as you please."

Okay, any guys out there who just got married, or are planning (ever) on getting married, pay attention. Let me explain it to you: What that really means is you can go out and play as long as you get back in time to do other family stuff. In this case, there is a 3 year old the size of Mishu whose birthday party she and the kids are going to. I have been told that I don't have to go. The birthday girl's name is Tabby, like the cat. No, wait--I think it's short for Tabitha. Not being a member of the anglo-saxon races I am not to be trusted with such topics. As an aside, I also found out this week that I am not to be trusted when it comes to birds, either. Apparently, a Golden-crowned Kinglet (they are annoyingly rare in Southern California) that I found, pointed out to 3 other people, and got someone to photograph was dismissed by 2 "gentlemen" who choose to remain anonymous, who informed the keeper of the park list (the dude who keeps a list of every bird ever seen at that particular park, along with the dates) that any such claims oin my part should be met with healthy skepticism.

Now, other than Ruby-crowned Kinglet, what the bloody hell could I confuse a Golden-crowned Kinglet with? Silly children. They must be Republicans, like the idiot I saw driving a pickup truck in Newport Beach, with a bumper sticker that said When Will You Admit That Electing Obama Was a Mistake? In order to write that many letters on one bumper sticker, you have to use a small font i.e. tiny letters. Little ones, like the undersized cognitive organ of the guy driving the pickup truck.

But I digress.

Of far more interest was Off-Road Corvette Dude. I have forgotten his name. I met him in Claremont, one night, during a Corvette rally in The Village. He turned a regular Corvette into an off-road monster. I saw him on the 57 Freeway while driving to Reagan Country (the next idiot who tells me that Ronald Reagan caused the Soviet Union to collapse is going to get a knuckle sandwhich from me: Harry Truman declared the policy, and set the course for constraining Soviet expansion when Ronald Reagan was sleeping with a chimpanzee), so I whipped out the Blackberry and took his picture. He waved, but I have no idea if he recognized me, or just smiled at another of his legion admirers.

Long story short: got to Upper Newport Bay, chased Steve Sosensky and Jim Abernathy up and down the street while limping and coughing. Well, okay, my toe feels better, as long as my 3 year-old doesn't step on it: she has stepped on my pinky toe (and no other toes!) with shoes on four times in the last two weeks, since I broke it. We got great looks at the bird. My 35mm camera is acting weird, so I only digiscoped the godwit. Her rump looked white, but I didn't see the underwings. But then again, she was around the same size as the Marbled Godwits. I mention all of this because the Bar-tailed Godwits in Europe of the race lapponicus have a white rump, but they are a lot smaller than the Siberan/Alaskan baueri birds. Interesting.

Limped back to the car, coughed, hacked and wheezed while turning the key in the ignition (I have not slept through the night in a week, because of this stupid cough), and got home in time to wash the car, load the wife and kids, and meet the Pink Mafia. My 3 year-old is a member of the Gang of Pink. Without any prior training or experience, she slipped on a pair of high heels in her size last year, and took off running. If we stay in the house, she changes clothes every two hours. Complete wardrobe change. Shoes, dress, tiara or whatever she's going to put into her hair. Where did this kid come from? I am going to ask the wife to get a DNA test, to prove that she is the mother. The very reason that the wife and I met was because we were both Sierra Club types out hiking in the mountains during the weekends. How did we produce this child who wears lipstick, wants her nails done, and wants all of her clothes, shoes, and accessories to be pink?

Does anyone know where I can get a bumper sticker that says "Have You Slept with Your Republican Congressman Today?" ?

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