the_usual nom lonely, sad, scared, hungry, tired 070421 ... nom and sore 070421 ... nom stupidness 070421 ... mcdougall Habits 070422 ... jane suspects 070803 ... raze saturday i brought two new things with me for newsom to try: a slice of orange bell pepper and a small cube of cheddar. she accepted the gifts. she let them fall from her mouth. she smelled them. she decided they weren't for her. she gave me a look that said, "i'll have the usual, please." so i gave her some walnuts. yesterday i held out a sliver of apple. she took it without hesitation. she didn't eat it right away. first she pruned the peel with her teeth. it floated away like the thin edge of a trimmed piece of paper. then she made a meal of the shaved flesh. "you know what you like," i said. "don't you, newsom?" when it was almost time to head home, a woman shuffled into the park with her daughter. she had tired-looking grey hair dyed a faded shade of pink and a face that made me want to hug her. cerebral palsy pinned her progeny to a motorized wheelchair and robbed her of her words. the woman whose legs were still willing to do what she told them to sat on the bench that faces auburn and brownie's tree. she watched me feed patches. "that squirrel isn't afraid of you at all," she said. "that's incredible." my dad told her the story of how we came to know and care for these special squirrels. "all of them have names," he said. "what's that one's name?" the woman asked. "that's patches," i said. "for a while there, she was missing a lot of fur. and when it grew back she had these dark patches on her back. but now they're gone, and she's all grey and beautiful." "how do you still know it's her?" "i know her by her face and the way she looks at me. and that one over there who's closer to being brown is brownie." before we left, i heard her talking to her daughter. "you see that squirrel over there, taylor? if you look at that gentleman in the hat, you'll see her. she isn't afraid of them. her name is patches. and she's their friend." 220720 what's it to you? who go blather from