A Cavalcade of Possums.

possum

I’m not going to explain shit. I’ve got opposable thumbs. (Possum: Original SOLD)

A calvacade of possums – I thought that would make a pretty good title except that there’s no such word. I was sorry to realize that the real word, cavalcade, doesn’t have the same sparkly, circusy ring to it.  Sometimes I think they should check with us before they go assigning words to definitions.

My first possum experience was a huge old fat lumbering fellow that walked himself right up the stairs and past us standing around on a porch. Scared. The. Hell. Out of me. I thought it was a gargantuan rat out for a gargantuan rat stroll.

littlePete

Pete, our neighborhood’s baby possum

photo (17)

a befuddled possum, first one I’d seen in daylight

I’m not scared of possums any more. Good thing, because they show up pretty often, doing their possum thing. And I’ve learned a little bit about them.

A little bit is a good amount to pack for traveling.

So far, possums haven’t come up in conversation, but they’re there, just in case -just in case I’m lucky enough to have a conversation. If that happens, I don’t want to be talking about what to see and what to do. I don’t want to be waiting for someone to share some secret joint that ‘tourists don’t know about.’

I’ve been in those conversations, but I don’t remember them. I remember the stories and ideas. I remember the philosophy and struggling with history. For me, they create a way to see and experience a place unlike any other.  It takes more work to get those, but those conversations will illuminate. And that’s why I travel in the first place. To get some illumination.

Not long ago, a woman asked, ‘Are you a local?’ We were in a public restroom down at the beach. ‘We’re here for a few days. What would you recommend?’ She told me where she and her husband were staying. I paused to think, to get my questions ready.

During that pause, a whole different woman – still in a stall – piped up enthusiastically. ‘I’m not a local, but I’ll tell you what you should do.’ And so she did and all I could think was: Eeeeeek. It was an incredibly bad suggestion, what they call shit.

We should’ve spent a few minutes talking about possums. Ha.

Advertisements

18 thoughts on “A Cavalcade of Possums.

  1. ” Sometimes I think they should check with us before they go assigning words to definitions.” <- THIS!!! You always make me smile 🙂

    • Oh, that’s just fun! I might not really understand those blog award thingies, but still love that you’d think of me. 🙂 Even better, is that you might like reading what I write. Thank you!

    • Hahahaha.(I’m sorry, that’s the best transcription of a genuine laugh I can do.) Your neighborhood raccoons probably have a better sense of your doggies’ ambitions. I’ve never seen a possum or even that other spelling do one of those curl-up and pretend to be dead, but I can imagine that doggies going bananas would bring it on. 🙂

    • Hi Brenda. I just wanted to let you know that I cannot load your website. (If anyone sees any problems with mine, please let me know.) You might try changing your pictures to “large” instead of “full size,” if you haven’t already. It also could be a problem with widgets. I’m no tech genius, these are just things I’ve been warned about. I did notice that my website sped up when I changed all photos to large; you can’t tell the difference, except that it is faster. The pictures look the same.

  2. Where do you live? This reminds me of L.A. I had a tree full of possums (mom plus babies) outside of my apartment in East L.A. The tree basically grew into our balcony, and I think they climbed onto the balcony a time or two. They terrified my roommates, but I LOVED them. We also had BBQ possums in Pasadena (i.e., possums that came to BBQ’s, NOT possums that we barbecued!) It was a thing. We always barbequed on Sundays. The possums always showed up on the fence like nosey neighbors and stared at us for an hour while we ate. So when I think possums, I think City of Angels. Also, if you ever want to talk possums, I think you know where to come.😉

    • Ha! You’ve already been sorted, folded and put in my ‘Will Talk About Possums’ drawer. I’m in Santa Barbara now, but now that you mention it … My first possum WAS in Hollywood, in the canyon under the big old sign. One possum and skunks. Lots of skunks. Lots of skunks with weapons at the ready. I do not think there’s any correlation, but I would think that because I love LA. 🙂

      • Funny you should mention that. All I see these days are skunks. (I am sure there is no correlation.) 😉 I miss the possums!! The only possum I saw here was dead one. (This is here: https://lovemarriageworms.wordpress.com/2014/10/31/a-hairy-hello/) It was a tragic accident, actually. A mom with a pocket full of babies apparently fell (or committed suicide) off the cliff behind our apartment. Sad, sad days. Santa Barbara is lovely! My husband and I choose our locations on the basis of trashy reality TV shows. If there isn’t real potential for a trashy reality TV show to be shot there, we don’t even bother. Do you all have trashy reality TV shows? Because I would love to live in Santa Barbara.

    • HWAT? Oops. I mean: What?! WP won’t let me reply to your reply to my reply. So NOW I have to come up here again. ALL out of whack.

      Poor mom possum. Some things (and people) just aren’t suited to edges. 😦

      Santa Barbara IS lovely. I was just on the verge of saying the potential for Trashy Reality TV (hereafter, TRTV) is low and then I remembered we’ve had a Kardashian wedding in the neighborhood and episodes of Bachelor-something-or-other. So maybe you should start packing.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s