Stick boys and Joy

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This morning I was walking to work, and I saw a boy swinging a stick.  I say “boy” because he strikes me as an adolescent, but he could be older, I guess.  I’ve never seen his face clearly.

 

I have seen him by the subway station this winter, picking up sticks and swinging them vigorously, in almost a violent manner.  He wore one of those masks that snowmobilers sometimes wear, foamy and black, with eyeholes and a mouth hole cut out.  I was a little wary of him until I realized that he was being more playful than violent. 

 

I mentioned him at work this morning, and someone told me that he keeps his stockpile of sticks in the lot across from our building.  He’ll take ten minutes to pick out the perfect stick from his collection, and then he’ll play in the snow with it.  My coworker said that he couldn’t imagine what the boy would do now that the snow is melting, but I thought the boy was definitely having fun this morning, swinging his stick around over grass and mud. 

 

I wonder what that boy is thinking.  I wonder what he dreams about.

 

*~*~*~*

 

Yes, spring has sprung in Buffalo, and while we all know not to trust that it’s here to stay, we’re all delighted with the sun and the warmth.  We’re all being super cheesy and raising our faces to the sun and smiling goofily.  We’re all saying, “I almost called in to work because it’s so GORGEOUS outside!”

 

Of course, it’s supposed to rain on and off this weekend.  I say “of course” because this weekend is Buffalo’s St. Patrick’s Day parade (and we sure do take our drinking seriously; we sure are “Irish.”  Actually, I am Irish, a little).  My friends Ami and Jon are having their usual brunch, and then we’ll watch the parade, while drinking.  In the rain, apparently.  But I am not discouraged, because my friend Julia is coming back to town for the weekend!  And I am making cupcakes for the brunch!  And we will party like we’re 100% Irish.

 

*~*~*~*

 

I have been especially giddy lately because my mom finally got disability!  She got rejected the first time – I think everybody does – but then she went to see another doctor about her hips, and he must have written up a doozy of a report.  Before my mom knew it, she was receiving checks and notices of her disability.  Now she can look into getting insurance and getting her hips fixed!  YAY!

 

The only downside is that we’re going to have to stop picking on mom when her hips are fixed, because she’ll actually be able to catch us and beat on us, instead of just waving her cane at us in a threatening manner.