Sunday, March 22, 2009


We swooped by Herberger's and I bought my socks. Then we went to the grocery store where it smells funny and customers wear mullets. Regis gets so frustrated trying to park there because everybody drives a 1992 Park Avenue and goes 16 miles per hour because their cataracts are so bad they can't see. I said he either has to calm down or we have to start buying coffee somewhere else.

Then we went to the bike shop sale at the old mall. A fast-talking (not in a bad way...he just ought to lay off the caffeine) salesman sold me this little number in the picture above. I took it for a spin in the parking lot and loved it. It has three-speeds which are plenty because I usually forget to shift anyway. We're going to pick it up on Wednesday. We both bought helmets...reference my fear of head injuries.

The weather outside is bad-ass dreadful. I felt like I had dirt in my teeth and my hair was standing on end. Garbage was blowing through the air and the wind was howling nasty ass loud. The thermometer says 55 but I don't think so. Wicked wind chill. There aren't words to describe crappy weather like this obviously since I used ass twice in one paragraph.

On our way home, we slowed way down to let a couple wild turkeys cross the road. I told Regis (again) the story of my victimhood at the hands of a wild turkey. He laughed and expressed skepticism. People always do when I tell this story but it's true.
In April, Will Millington was riding his dirt bike down a narrow trail in Norman, Okla., when he stopped before a flock of wild turkeys. The hens scattered, but two toms flared their feathers and stalked toward him. Then they suddenly leapt in the air, beat Mr. Millington with their wings and tried to scratch him with the sharp spurs on the backs of their legs.

Wild-turkey flocks have a pecking order. If they live around humans, some of the dominant toms may begin to include people in that order — at a level below themselves. Lovett Williams, a Florida biologist, recalls that when he raised wild turkeys, he sometimes had to establish dominance by grabbing an obnoxious bird around the neck and holding it on the ground so it couldn't scratch with its spurs. "I'd slap him like they do on the Three Stooges," he says. "Then they'd wobble around and run off."

There you go.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I can only imagine what would have happened if the cataract-impaired drivers or the caffeine-jolted sales guy had come across the wild turkeys.

Please tell Regis I've had cataract surgery. If I'd let the cataracts grow, I could be the proud owner of a used Park Avenue.