Ordinary Beauty

Death. It’s hovering.

I hate this. I mean, I know that always Death is hovering, waiting for the right moment. And, I know that we are the last ones in charge of determing “the right moment”.

However.

The obvious hovering. That’s hard.

Someone in the family. Massive heart attack. 45 minutes to get the heart to pump again. Still unconscious. Not good. Big death shadows haunting.

Please.

Look. Those automobiles we use, they really are the WMDs. No, I’m not whining about fossil fuel abuse. I’m concerned about the pure physical destructive potential that is inherent in moving automobiles.

They are big. Heavy. Brutal. And, check this out. Sometimes we are not in charge of their destiny. Sometimes people come out of nowhere and do things they are not “supposed” to do, and in an eyeblink, mass destruction ensues.

Yesterday, I held the head of a man who lay in the middle of the road, his snarled Harley just six feet away. The SUV with whom Harley man collided had been making a left turn, the driver’s sight obscured by another large vehicle; the SUV driver went where really he shouldn’t have.

Harley man’s right arm was bent at inhuman angles. Harley man’s left hip unable to move. Traces of yellow mustard edged his lips, from a quick hot dog he grabbed for lunch just moments before.

It was a sunny day. Perfect for a simple ride.

Full leather chaps. Full leather jacket. Solid boots and helmut. Eye protection in place, shielding from glare and insects and dust. Alert. All the requisite items of safety.

But these days people are in such a damn hurry or something. Speeding through the yellow lights, even though they really are red. Hustling to turn, even when the sight lines are not clear. Jostling around stalled traffic. Ignoring the pedestrians.

I’m guilty of impatience. Crap. If the speed limit is 45, why is that driver in the left lane dawdling along doing 30? However. I do try to rise above it. Even more imporant than my state of mind, is that lives are at stake.

We are the terrorists. Motorized piles of steel and distracted, irritated, egotistic drivers.

Be careful out there.

There is nothing more stupid looking than a human at the end of the leash of a dog who is defecating. Dog squatting, human on a leash, mustering every possible iota of nonchalance. Dumb look no matter how much cool the human has in every other moment of life.

Okay. Dumber sight even. Human sashaying along with the plastic bag of dog excrement. Everyone knows what’s in that bag.

Sh*t.

For pities sake people, add a Martha factor and put your plastic bag o’ sh*t in a cute tote or something. Please. You look so ridiculous carrying that crumpled Safeway bag wrapped around the poo.