Spring Training

I'm still a bit sickly though I've been going to work. This past Saturday morning, I could not even speak. I had laryngitis though that didn't stop me from going to the coffee shop with Hannah who wondered who I was throughout the morning.

"What happened to Jan?"

Prior to leaving the house, because I live alone -- I was thinking (to myself) how is it I know I can't speak? The voices in my head run amok without my mouth supervising. I was curious if I did not speak aloud like some tottering old fool (or most of the librarians I've known) how long would it take to discover that I had no real voice?

Late Saturday afternoon I heard someone at my front-door, a rarity.You'd have to be a very determined Jehovah's witness or LDS to minister in this neighborhood. This guy claimed he was ringing the (non-functioning) doorbell for ten minutes -- it has never been worked. Finally the stranger hollered through the bathroom window "are you here?" and I arose from the toilet I went to the door and saw a friend I had not seen in many months and invited him inside, warning him through my barking, gravely voice that I was sick.

We talked and laughed awhile though I mostly barked, squealed and snortle-ed when sounds actually came out  -- sort of a Lauren Bacall mimicking a baby seal or Kathleen Turner playing with her Hot Wheels™ collection.

My friend stayed for about an hour. We made sure we had each others phone numbers -- he will "phone in advance" next time so I can make sure my car covers underwear are picked up off the kitchen floor.

The entire time this person was at my house, I could not recall his name. At one point in our conversation, I even recited his phone number back to him from memory. He was impressed with my memory for numbers (though my memory is selective). I didn't have the heart (or voice) to tell him that I had no idea his name. And it wasn't until late Saturday night that I remembered who he was. Not that there's anything spectacular about his name - last name Jones. I simply could not put a name to his face. Talk about making an impression. I'm hoping it's a side-effect of the current illness and not early onset death.

this is an actual wild animal -r u scared?
While I was at my home scratching my head trying to remember who I was, why there was a strange man who's name I did not know sitting in my living-room, and who was making that obnoxious barking sound (me), my sister, Hannah's "bam-mah" (yes, we're Oakies) told me that they'd had an crazy incident with a wild turkey (see -- I told you!) attacking them.

Unfortunately Hannah witnessed much of the turkey attack though thankfully she was inside the house. Hearing her bam-mah's frantic screaming, witnessing the turkey clucking and gobbling, chasing  bam-mah round and round the car while she screamed for her life, fleeing in the opposite direction of the turkey who, innocently enough, only wished to make mad, passionate love to its reflection in the shiny rear bumper of the Prius (offering an even more valid excuse not to wash my car, ever). Upon hearing the commotion, Hannah's Grandpa dove out da house, grabbing a long-handle, car-wash scrub-brush, swinging like a caveman in spring training, landing a home-run upon the heart broken bird, causing this predator turkey to retreat post-haste.


Then in an effort to pretend things were back to normal, post turkey-attack, Hannah phoned, asking me to come for Sunday tea where we ate tiny (dammit!) pieces of cake on doll-sized plates and drank soothing cups of green tea. Later I stood guard, protecting bam-mah and Hannah from the vicious, wild forest animals while they luxuriated in the hot-tub.