August? Already? Oh my.
It’s hard to believe that I’ve already been away for a month now. I’ve never really dealt with homesickness, but I am starting to really look forward to being home.
Anyways . . . . Time for another update. And today’s update is going to be full of funny stories. You all will like that, right? Oh, I don’t know. Take what you want from it, ignore it if you must, or read it and laugh. I can only explain so well with my amateur writing, so those of you who know me might get more from this. The stories won’t be in order.
I went out with the ladies of the house to go feed some geese the other day. There’s a dam (what we call a lake) nearby, and a majority of crazy birds claim it as home. The geese came up to a little lower than my hip. They were really rather large.
The herd walked up to the car as we parked, and I peered out the windows at the honking galumphs.
“Open the door, they won’t do anything.”
So, that’s what I did. I opened the door . . . . only to meet the hiss of a large white goose. I slammed it closed again, and looked nervously at the sharp, orange beaks. Eventually, the throwing of bread distracted them enough to move away from my door, and I got out. I even fed the birds some, but once I was out of the one slice, I was done. The beaks made me nervous enough, and I really didn’t want them close to me.
Well, the nasties wouldn’t let me alone. I was out of bread, and that’s what they wanted. I tried to shoo them away, but with that amount closing in while I was leaning against a car, there was no way I could get anywhere. Then, I looked away for a moment.
Yeah, that’s right. I was bit by a goose. A stinking, humongous, possessed goose. Fortunately, it was only a finger, but those frightening beaks didn’t disappoint. It bled little, but I still freaked out. Before I knew it, there was another shout of disgust and annoyance.
We managed to run from the insanity in feathered form, and as we walked to the car later, they let us be. I’m still wondering who was kind enough to give the things Prozac.
Let’s just say that I’ve developed a rather large dislike for geese now.
Back in Joburg, I was in the kitchen making some tea (I think that’s what I was doing. My memory’s horrible.) while the kids were playing. The dog was in, and amidst the happy shouting and patter of feet, I heard Jack say something to either the dog or his sister.
“You don’t sound like a boy. Maybe you’re a girl.”
I have a vuvuzela now. It’s red. Yeah, I know, great color for such a thing. We were sitting in the living room talking, and I dug out the vuvuzela to look at it. One of the dogs (somewhat affectionately . . . called “Cockroach” or “jack-rabbit”) was looking up the end of the instrument, growling.
“Oh! Blow it!”
I’d never blown a vuvuzela before in my life, but I figured that it would be similar enough to how trumpets are blown . . . so that’s how I blew it. The room was momentarily filled with the loud buzzing call, and the yipping and skidding of the dog. We laughed and laughed. The poor dog looked nervously at the red piece of plastic.
And then she ran up to the end of it again, looked up through it and growled.
Well, there are lots of other stories, but my creative streak has been tapped to its limit, I think. Forgive the horrid grammar.
I’ll be taking off for Joburg again on Tuesday, so I need to start making sure that my things are together. My Mom’s been doing a lot to help me with getting ready for school, and I’m really looking forward to seeing the books for this upcoming semester. The real nursing coursework is about to start!