Tuesday, June 13, 2006
Odd Happenings You Should Know About In Case There Are More
1 . Ducklings. We returned from the Water, Precious Water concert Sunday afternoon, and everything seemed benign-usual, well, other than the state of Onondaga Lake and world water crises. Besides that, I mean. I snapped the leash onto Y.'s collar and into the backyard we bebopped. There we found a distressed-seeming duck and heard a chorus of chirps. Steady help-us peeps floated from the window well close by. Foreseeing that Y. would only fuel the strange animal energies, I tugged him back inside. D. and I went to the basement where, through the screen, we observed four small, squabbling ducklings bobbing around the window well with their clumsy, random flap-n-jumps. Were they there by accident? Were they stuck? Hungry? Given the cool temps, D. suggested they might have been attracted to the heat (why is heat pouring out of an open basement winter in June? That's another matter altogether.) Still, we weren't sure whether they could get out, and we've watched a fox amble through the yard a couple of times in recent weeks. Their urgent chirping and the mother duck's display of uneasiness left us deliberating whether or not to ramp them out (a cardboard ramp?). The reliable internets shone a light on the dilemma we were in: the ducks are federally protected. Tampering with them is a roll of the dice with Law. We waited, hoping, meanwhile, that they wouldn't expire there. And then--the stuff of fairy tales--they were gone.
2. Ants. This one is easy. An infestation. Out from the kitchen walls they march, hurrah hurrah. But all the food is contain(er)ed, and I've laid down enough Terro to, pray-it-works, constrict their sweetness-sucking little throats. Fine, so it's not on par with odd happening #1. Still. This next one is:
3. Parking garage derby. Today we're at the CNY Medical Building parking garage. D.'s in for a routine baby-check. Ready for this? We spiral through the parking garage until the fourth floor where spaces begin to open up. 9:13 a.m. A lt. blue minivan two cars ahead of us was driving in lurches, as if every next space must be the one. Patterned: sprint. Stop. Sprint. Stop. I parked the Element. We hopped out, walked over to the elevator, where we waited. The van was finally parking; as we walked, the driver waved us ahead. Go ahead, walk in front. The one was next to where we stood, waiting for the elevator to arrive. And then: the van sped into the spot and rammed the steel guard rail. Fiberglass and plastic splintered, sailing everywhichway. And the driver, her window down, was repeating, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Her teenage son, resting in the passenger side with his crutches (a broken lower appendage; an appointment for which they were late?), sat there, shocked as we all are. Who was she apologizing to? Explained that she went for the brake and missed. Judging by the rate of impact, though, I'd say the missed brake meant a centered hit for the accelerator. Helluva unfortunate way to smash a van, and an odd happening because I'd never witnessed anything quite like it. Parking garages already feel awkward to me (low ceilings, all concrete and steel), now, even more so.
4. Garage door cable. Around noon, D. went to water the planter-people on the front step. Pressed the garage door opener: a loud crack (or two). One of the door-lifting cables snapped. Being a heavy-built door (1950's heavy, that is), the uneven weight yanked loose a garage rafter. Oy. And with the Element, our only motor vehicle, nestled smartly inside, what could we do next. So I phoned our landlord, and he got on it. The repairs were underway within two hours and finished before another hour passed. Still, strange enough to be an O.H.