Miss Cleo, Chickens and Bats...Oh My!

Miss Cleo

As the wife and I took a little break from reconfiguring the house in the wake of a visit from our six year-old grandson Dan (Cocoa Puffs and Trix still turning up in unusual places) we both did some catching up on the latest news.  First of all I was saddened to note the passing of Miss Cleo who, you may recall, was always standing by to talk with you on The Psychic Hotline.  Did it catch her by surprise I wonder or was she dressed up and waiting at the station for the Dirt Nap Express?  If her obituary is correct it appears that she had been less than candid about certain aspects of her life.  For example,  her real name was Youree Harris and she was from Los Angeles which, last time I checked, wasn't even in the same time zone as the Caribbean.  What else was she not telling us?  And, it's obvious that the old Hotline must not have been getting the job done for her cash flow lately as one of her last jobs was doing commercials for a Plantation, Florida used car dealer called Uncle Mel's Cheap Heaps.  This, of course, begs the question:  Would Miss Cleo be able to predict when the transmission might take a hike on one of Uncle Mel's bargain rides?

Here in the Idaho panhandle we have time to relax and enjoy a slower pace.  The news cycle doesn't usually include major crimes like murder, home invasion, drug busts and endless freeway tie-ups.  Of course we have the occasional meth lab explosion but those seem to be almost the exclusive province of rural and small town America.   The big ugly stories we leave to the major metropolitan markets while we take time to focus on, well,  Miss Cleo assuming room temperature and items of local import.   Here in Coeur d'Alene there was a front page story regarding some old bag state senator--or was it representative?--who drove her car around police barricades during our Fourth of July parade.  She assumed that the cop yelling at her to back her car up and not cut through the marching Cub Scouts and Brownies didn't realize how important she was as she whipped out the old "Do you know who I am young man?!"  No, he wasn't impressed and wrote her a ticket which she is contesting vehemently.   Frankly I hope they give her about five years in stony lonesome just for being a politician.   It's a doggone shame that she was recently defeated in her bid to continue on as our local state political hack.  She had the potential for real comedy gold.

Another breaking story here in the Famous Potatoes state is the disappearance of the 7-foot tall steel chicken in Pocatello.  (This just in:  THE CHICKEN HAS BEEN RETURNED, film at 11.)  I have no idea what this monstrosity is supposed to promote or represent but do agree that it would look cool on our front lawn.  I won't bring it up for a vote as no doubt Linda would not be willing to go along with this stroke of decorating genius.  Women have no imagination when it comes to home decor.

A little something for the front yard.

Last night after finally agreeing that we had caught up with the news and our home had returned to normal--okay, as normal as we get--we relaxed on the front patio and enjoyed watching the sunset.  As darkness descended and we enjoyed a gentle cooling breeze off the lake, we lingered and congratulated ourselves on surviving a week of a six year-old's visit and how smart we were to move to the Idaho panhandle.  Linda remarked that there was a really large butterfly putting on a show near the tree just to the West of us and how nice it would have been for our grandson to see it.  Of course it was a BAT but I agreed that it was indeed a very special "butterfly" just to get her inside before she wised up and screamed.
I wonder if I could have blown that by Miss Cleo?

An Idaho "butterfly"