Give us This Day Our Daily Irony

San Quentin: the Scenic Prison.

It was a gorgeous day.

I had to run an errand that was near the Richmond Bridge. Specifically, I had to take the exit for San Quentin. (You know, home to our friends Charles Manson, Sirhan Sirhan, Charles Ng, Scott Peterson, and other horrific  murderers.)

It’s been awhile since I’ve taken that exit. I have to admit, San Quentin is stunning. It glows a beautiful pale yellow in the light off San Francisco Bay. The razor wire is all glittery and sparkly.

Exit is straightforward. Prison Men’s Correctional Facility to your right: you can see one of the first guard towers from the exit.

The signs cracked me up.

Turn right to go to the prison or…

…left for a more Scenic view.

Given the choice, I’ll take the scenic view every time….

(click “more” to see Wikipedia photos of prison)

Mi Casa es Su Casa

My first suggested assignment from WordPress for daily blogging: post something that makes you smile.

You mean, besides my facial muscles?

Fine. Easy. I have an immediate answer.

I have Skunk Karma. A lot of Skunk Karma.  Below is how it started.

Bonus: it also may help explain the instant assumption I made in this pony story.

Image via Wikipedia

The first house Shaun and I rented was on a street whose sign read “Walnut Grove Way”. We found out later that our realtor switched the signs out.  We really lived on Crazy Cat Lady Street.

Virtually all of our elderly neighbors left cat food outdoors for the stray cats.  Not just the little X’s of kitty kibble, but the good stuff: canned food and tuna.  We had to keep our cat inside, or he’d weigh 200 lbs.

I began to notice our backyard wildlife was remarkably healthy looking.  Strikingly large possums with clean pink tails and beautiful pelts, crows so black they glittered in the sun, a gargantuan King snake so shiny it gleamed, unable to hide, in the foliage.  There was also a beautiful, highly unusual, suede-colored kitten with long, iridescent whiskers.

Unfortunately, seen from the front, the suede-colored kitten turned out to be a very large rat (with long iridescent whiskers).

While taking care of a vacationing neighbor’s cat, I was startled to see our black cat sitting on their back porch waiting for a hand out.  What the heck?  How did he get out? Not really looking at him, I slide the glass door back and start to reach down to pick him up.

I think: Wow he looks healthy. I’m a good mom.

Then I notice his head is too small.

The too-small pointed head looks up at me, with intelligent, unperturbed, cold, Mafia eyes. This little critter knows he can overpower me with Taser-like precision.

Because he’s capable of immediate, compassion-less, life-ending violence, he can be leisurely and contemplative.

He looks at me curiously:  Nooo...is she really going to pick me up?