I’m a hugger. Sorry to those I hug who aren’t huggers. But if I know you and haven’t seen you in a while I’ll hug you. That being said there are different huggers out there. I’m just a normal hugger. I hug, say “hi” and let go. I have hugged some people who hug back normally and some who it seems have never had a hug and don’t know what their role in the hug is so they stand stiffly and try to hug back with arms that are like dry twigs that give a quick pat on your back. To those people I give an extra squeeze when I hug them as I feel they probably need it.
There are the kissers. I don’t kiss when I hug. I just hug. There are the shoulder huggers. They bend at the waist, stick out their bottoms and hug just from the shoulders up and give a patty pat, pat lightly like they really don’t want to hug but it seems to be the thing to do at the time.
There are the life squishing huggers. These are just the most fun to watch. They’re usually seen in your mind as an older aunt who hugs you around the neck until you feel your eyes will pop out of their sockets. But these hugs are given with such warmth and kindness the bruises left behind are but a wonderful gift you can look at for days afterwards.
There are some who would rather not be hugged. No problem, your space is your space. There are some who like to hug too much, remember though my space is my space so just hug and step back please. Huggers who shake hands while hugging. Huggers who nearly crash noses with you because you both go the same direction when hugging. Remember a good hugger will yield the right-of-away to the one who initiates the hug therefore any collisions will be avoided.
I know. About now you’re thinking — enough about hugging already. Well, you’re probably right. But hopefully somewhere in the previous few words you got one or more visuals of hugs. So that’s where I’m headed. It’s such a visual world.
Living in Nevada since my birth, in the last century. Well, that will make anyone feel old enough to eat paste. See another visual with an added memory of taste, too. Stick to the topic, Machacek! (Get it, stick/paste ...)
In Nevada, in the last century, there were nuclear tests done. Bombs were set off underground and some above ground. I’m not here to discuss the pros and cons of all that. No, I’m talking about the visuals of all that testing.
Occasionally on some documentary or news program there’s a clip shown from one of those tests. A plume of dust and devastation erupts and causes what has become to be known as “a mushroom cloud.” In anyone’s book a devastating thing.
But there’s this human side of me. A curios side who wants to see more. Why don’t we ever get to see the whole thing? When the cloud tops out. How high does it go? This has bothered me for quite some time. Seeing just the explosion and start of the plume is like going to Yellowstone to see Old Faithful and then after traveling all that way and being right there at that hole in the ground, the mighty geyser starts to erupt, growing higher and more spectacular and then just before it peaks — you turn and walk away. How frustrated are you now?
Because I have fought a wildfire or two with my other half in our years together, I know the destruction that happens under the smoke that rises up out of a fire. But really, from a distance the clouds of smoke are amazing to see. The other day there was a fire on the other side of the mountain to the east of where I live. The smoke plume grew huge. It was quite a sight. Then as the heat and smoke hit the high cool and moist air the whole thing created a billowy white-topped cloud. How could that dark, fiendish smoke suddenly turn white? It was a visual I will remember for quite a time.
If I were queen — I use this analogy when I want my own way. If I were queen, I would decree videos of these events could not be cut off until the end of the visual.
Oh, and while I’m at it. If I were queen, I would decree thrips, the teeny tiny bugs that are having a picnic in our potato patch, would be banished from my queendom ... and a daily ice cream cone would be mandatory — for everyone. Now that’s a cool visual!
Trina lives in Eureka, Nevada. Her book ITY BITS can be found on Kindle. Share with here at itybytrina@yahoo.com.
