(no subject)
I haven't been posting much these past few weeks because not much interesting has happened. My grandmother (not the one we had the party for) passed away a couple weeks ago just shy of her 93rd birthday, but the fact that it was so expected I think blunted the emotional impact a little. I went to Madison two weekends ago for College Bowl and to see and to a party in the Loop last weekend that was particularly fun and different, but none of these events really provoked me to write about them.
What happened to me on Friday, however, is an entirely different matter. I'd agreed to help my friend Jamie by driving her to pick up a couple of chairs that she had bought on craigslist from a woman who lives at 167th and Cicero, deep in the heart of the south suburbs. Now I was already feeling that this was already kind of a surreal experience, since I was sure the numbers only went as high as 159th and I found myself driving down this interminable suburban street on which sat split-level after split-level in stereotypical midwestern suburban fashion.
Eventualy, we arrived at this woman's house, which on the surface looked no different from any of the others. A slightly-frumpy blonde 40-something, she came out and showed us these two very retro orange plush chairs that sat in her driveway. Before Jamie could pay her, however, I noticed in the (quite large) backyard that there was a long chain-link fence that penned in about a quarter-acre, in which stood several dog-like animals. Except, as far as I could see, they weren't exactly dogs.
"Are those...wolves?" I asked, not quite believing my eyes.
"Actually, no!" she replied, "They're coyotes. And they're perfectly domesticated, I raised them basically from birth myself, fed them from a bottle I held in my own hand."
COYOTES!
She took us into the yard and showed us her three coyotes, two males and a female. They were majestic, beautiful animals, and truly tame -- one even licked my hand. I think she's one to take things a little too far, however, since she claimed that in the deep of winter she'd occasionally let one of them sleep in her bed with her. I remind you, we're talking about coyotes. Has the woman, as Katie suggested, never read Call of the Wild?
In a completely unrelated but similarly cool occurrence on Friday, I found a copy of the Greatest Hits of Paul and Paula selling for $1.99 at a music store in Belmont. I had to buy it, because who doesn't want to own Bill O'Reilly's favorite band of all time?
What happened to me on Friday, however, is an entirely different matter. I'd agreed to help my friend Jamie by driving her to pick up a couple of chairs that she had bought on craigslist from a woman who lives at 167th and Cicero, deep in the heart of the south suburbs. Now I was already feeling that this was already kind of a surreal experience, since I was sure the numbers only went as high as 159th and I found myself driving down this interminable suburban street on which sat split-level after split-level in stereotypical midwestern suburban fashion.
Eventualy, we arrived at this woman's house, which on the surface looked no different from any of the others. A slightly-frumpy blonde 40-something, she came out and showed us these two very retro orange plush chairs that sat in her driveway. Before Jamie could pay her, however, I noticed in the (quite large) backyard that there was a long chain-link fence that penned in about a quarter-acre, in which stood several dog-like animals. Except, as far as I could see, they weren't exactly dogs.
"Are those...wolves?" I asked, not quite believing my eyes.
"Actually, no!" she replied, "They're coyotes. And they're perfectly domesticated, I raised them basically from birth myself, fed them from a bottle I held in my own hand."
COYOTES!
She took us into the yard and showed us her three coyotes, two males and a female. They were majestic, beautiful animals, and truly tame -- one even licked my hand. I think she's one to take things a little too far, however, since she claimed that in the deep of winter she'd occasionally let one of them sleep in her bed with her. I remind you, we're talking about coyotes. Has the woman, as Katie suggested, never read Call of the Wild?
In a completely unrelated but similarly cool occurrence on Friday, I found a copy of the Greatest Hits of Paul and Paula selling for $1.99 at a music store in Belmont. I had to buy it, because who doesn't want to own Bill O'Reilly's favorite band of all time?