Native to the Americas, the turkey vulture (Cathartes aura) travels widely in search of sustenance. While usually foraging alone, it relies on other individuals of its species for companionship and mutual protection. Sometimes misunderstood, sometimes feared, sometimes shunned, it nevertheless performs an important role in the ecosystem.
This scavenger bird is a marvel of efficiency. Rather than expend energy flapping its wings, it instead locates uplifting columns of air, and spirals within them in order to glide to greater heights. This behavior has been mistaken for opportunism, interpreted as if it is circling doomed terrestrial animals destined to be its next meal. In truth, the vulture takes advantage of these thermals to gain the altitude needed glide longer distances, flying not out of necessity, but for the joy of it.
It also avoids the exertion necessary to capture live prey, preferring instead to feast upon that which is already dead. In this behavior, it resembles many humans.
It is not what most of us would consider to be a pretty bird. While its habits are often off-putting, or even disgusting, to members of more fastidious species, the turkey vulture helps to keep the environment from being clogged with detritus. Hence its Latin binomial, which translates to English as "golden purifier."
I rarely know where the winds will take me next, or what I might find there. The journey is the destination.
Annette- I completely agree. As you know, mass transit in Europe is light-years better than here, even around big cities like NYC or LA. Yet another example of what government needs to improve.
They seem to have the attitude that they'll only improve mass transit if people use it, but people don't use it unless it's improved and convenient, so we're stuck in a Catch-22 cycle of "not enough."
One thing more people could do is use mass transit and bikes to get around and for short distances.
If there were protected bike paths, away from traffic, not just a forking line on the ground, I would use my bike more frequently and leave my eight seat minivan parked. But I will not "save the planet" by attempting to win against American car drivers.
Now that I live a distance away from Los Angeles, I do take the train there. It takes an hour and twenty minutes, which is ten minutes more than by car when there is nobody else on the freeways. And much faster than a car on any other time. I come out at Union Station where I can choose from dozens of buses and three Metro lines. It's glorious and cheaper than parking for an hour in Los Angeles. And parking out here at the train station is free.
How in carnation can anyone mess up phrases? My ex-sister-in-law always messed this one up. I'm not sure if she was referring to the flower or the instant breakfast drink.
I was always a really good sleeper and didn't understand insomnia (What's the problem? Just go to sleep. How can you not sleep if you're super tired?) until about age 40. Ah, how blissfully naive I was, before PD symptoms and the lively side effects that come with its various treatment options.
After a year or two of waking my husband up in the middle of the night with either blood-curdling screams or hysterical giggles, I started moving to the guestroom. Now I just wake myself up. Conveniently, I'm capable of falling back asleep and landing right smack in the middle of the same dream that just woke me up.
I keep the room very cold, but I also use a weighted blanket. That, along with a healthy dose of melatonin and Trazedone, seems to help.
Annette- I'm a believer in separate bedrooms for that reason. I understand it's not practical for a lot of people, though. I use a CPAP also, but it's usually silent. Or, maybe, I just don't hear it thanks to 50 years of rock concerts (no regrets).
Around year 10 or 11 of my marriage, I demanded to rent my own apartment away from him.
Reason?
He came home after I was asleep, woke me up by existing in my space, kept me up by going to sleep and snoring loud enough to be heard outside.
And then those forking upstairs neighbors decided to pray at one a.m. right on top of my bedroom. The kind of prayer where they get out of bed, stand, kneel, do whatever - for way too long at that time of night. (To anyone who wants to be offended at my offense at their religious habits, go right ahead, live downstairs from devout night prayer people and tell me what it's like to be 'woke' every. damn. night.)
And me in all of this? Once my sleep is interrupted, it takes me hours to fall back asleep. I ended up passing out an hour before I had to get up and start the day. Because kids have to be at school.
So, we moved to an apartment with three bedrooms. One for the three sons, one for the snoring husband. And a glorious, clean, undecorated, technology free bedroom for me.
My middle son once said that our bedrooms were like two science experiments gone wrong. His busy as fork and mine dull as concrete. I like my nothing, thank you very much. No noise. No red TV light. Nothing is my jam.
Now that we moved house again, we do sleep in the same room and bed again. At least he has a CPAP now. It's a little annoying, but I can sleep through it.
Also, we have cats now. They walk on me in the middle of the night. But they are cats. They can do no wrong. I will stay up all night if the reason is a cat. Or two. Or three. Just last night my sweet Chingu decided that he needed to get up and leave the room. Why the door was closed, I don't know. But I got up to let him out. Because he's a cat and I love him unconditionally. While he loves me when it's meal time. And when he needs my opposing thumbs to open doors for him. I don't care.
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