Breaking news: Paris and Nicole have finally buried the hatchet. Whew! We can all finally relax now. Thank goodness, right?
What does it say about the world in general that along with the nuclear test in North Korea, various congressional scandals, and the ongoing war in Iraq, THIS is a major news story? Oh, don’t answer that. I don’t even want to know.
(Side note: I just re-read that first sentence and saw that I’d accidentally written “Paris and Nicole have finally buried the hatched.” Which would be a much different story, I think. Maybe one involving sea turtles? Or aliens?)
Where was I? Ah, yes. The innanity of the world today. ‘Nuff said, I think. Especially from someone who will most likely spent the rest of the entry discussing something intellectual like television. Moving on!
Maybe it’s just that I’ve been watching too much Six Feet Under (we just wrapped up Season Three on DVD, will start Season Four sometime later this week) but lately, I’ve been a little too focused on death. Or maybe focused isn’t the right word. Maybe I’m just noticing it more, in all the various ways it comes into everyday life. If you’ve never seen Six Feet Under—and you should, it’s a great show, although the characters can frustrate you like crazy—it’s about a family that owns a funeral home, so death is a part of their everyday lives, even as they all deal with it differently. All this is leading up to this: yesterday, my husband killed a turtle by accident while doing some weedwacking in our yard. This completely depressed him, because he’s an animal lover to the extreme. “You didn’t do it on purpose,” I kept telling him. “And just think of all the turtles you’ve SAVED over the years.” Which is true: my husband is the sort who will always pull over to rescue a turtle stuck in the middle of the road, even if it means dodging four lanes of traffic himself. He was still feeling low, though, so I took him out to lunch.
We ordered our food, sat down by the window and….a huge hornet appeared, right over our heads. Now, normally, we don’t kill bugs, being of the cup-a-glass-over-it-and-then-slide-a-piece-of-paper-beneath-it-and-move-it-outside school of thinking. But hornets are different. They’re big and scary and if you make them mad, watch out. Even if you DON’T make them mad, watch out. We’ve had several nests in the yard over the years, and there is nothing scarier than heading out to take out the garbage, minding your own business, only to have a couple suddenly swarm you, buzzing and dive-bombing, chasing you back into the house. My husband went to get a glass out of a nearby recycling container, to try to catch it, but the only ones there were small, and it was already angrily buzzing, so…he took the glass and smooshed it. It was quick, and merciful. And yet still, someone sitting across the restaurant, seeing this, said, “Man! That’s harsh!” My husband looked pained, so I told the guy, “It was a hornet!” to which he replied, “Oh. Well, that’s okay.”
Still, though, it kind of put a damper on things. “Lots of people kill every bug they see,” I told my husband, as he picked at his lunch, sure his karma was suffering, big-time. “They kill spiders and crickets and ants. You never do that.” I did my best, but I’m not sure he was convinced. The truth is, in a perfect world, you’d never take any life, bug or turtle or anything else. But things happen. We make mistakes, and have to make snap decisions. In the end, you can only hope that your reasons for whatever you do were good ones, and if not, that you learned from them and can move on. And I DO want to believe there is some balance to the universe, that somehow all those bugs and turtles we’ve saved are noted as well. It could be the case, right? I mean, if Paris and Nicole can bury the hatchet (or hatched), anything is possible. Anything.