Kay Buena's Blog

Although Betty Jane had had a troubled and lengthy childhood (that would be 63 years), I am thinking shes not long for this world. She must have had a stroke which left her paralysed: It was sad, yet every one and thing faces the end when the road is blocked, the clock has stopped and they no longer walk.
She has taken to spewing out strange and obscene comments from time to time, and it is hard to tell if that’s due to brain damage or she just likes to hold a grudge and be nasty. The bit with the postal service was hard on her self confidence and she started complaining that her rubber band was fixing to unsnap. It certainly was loose, no question about that. But Betty Jane was a Christian Scientist. Problem there was she was also an atheist too.
She wouldn’t let me take her to the Doll hospital cause ‘they don’t under stand her accent.’

She started cursing and calling me names when I tried to take her picture, so I’ll remember her from my real childhood as the Doll who was my true best friend. She said she was tired of watching the birds with Elmo…and just wanted to sit around. Her Head hangs strangely to the side. But she still has that little all-knowing smile.

Betty Jane

When last we left Kay Buena’s favorite doll from her first childhood, Betty Jane she had been chastised with great disdain for her meddling with the Postal Service.  This kind of thing tends to happen, but as we later figured out, She really held no guilt in the interference with the Postal Services routine.  And although, there are those among us with limited senses of humour about life’s daily occurrences, and those who want to hang out and complain about them and their place or situation in this world, these types need to be taken outside and made to form a line in the backyard starting right behind my person.  Note this sartorial statement from yours truly who complained that I was not able to play the piano easily anymore.  Well, “Big Deal”. How many people get to hang out with a cool piano like Rubin anyway? How many people even know how to play the piano.  Betty Jane was never much of a student of the Fine Arts, and as she commented “it should be enough to get to stay here” and notice that “when one is surrounded by too much to do, and not enough physical ability to get every thing done (perfectly), perhaps the best plan is to lower one”s standards”. Things could be a whole lot worse for us all.

Anyway, as noted, Betty Jane worked herself out of her box, after which she promptly stated ‘there were doll stands on sale at the discount store,so why could she not have a benign role in our lives,as after all she was just as much of a disabled dweeb as I was?’  (Good point,I agree) She refused to cease and desist with her demand, until a stand she could lean on was obtained for her comfort. She had more than made up for her offenses,if any, as a ‘rebel rouser’,and so what if she’s an old Doll?  Who in Hell is “Vampire Barbie”, or the latest ‘American Idol’ Doll, anyway? They should just wait for their 15 minutes of fame to vanish and move aside. I must admit Betty Jane was a classic, and she probably deserved the “stand” suitable for a toppling older Doll and one of those new weird Barbie-like doll’s as well.  For all is to the better with this new set-up and attitude in the study now. There are still many interesting things going on in this world and Betty Jane took to her  new look-out on Elmo the cat’s nook, overlooking the bird-feeder with great dignity and a secret smirk on her little mouth.

Thanks to her perseverance and patience,we have all enjoyed watching Elmo’s outside world.  And It is true that we still have Morning Doves here, but the black capped vitreos are supposedly already passed through to the South.  Too bad that, they have been seen to get tipsy on the fermented pyracantha berries and make a mad display in the bird bath. Always a good show indeed.  We have had some cold nights but no freezes yet. The Star Trek Action figures have taken a hike, but we now enjoy watching the real people outside as they frantically try to obtain physical fitness by walking, running and cycling outdoors by our curbside. All this before the Holidays eat the year away and a new one begins!

We have a new mail personage. Now that Mr.Miller, our infamous mail man of 18 years superlative service in our neighborhood, has been promoted.

As strange as this seems: His (the new mail personage’s) replacement’s name is Mr. Miller.

This we take as a sign,  a good one.

Caroline Abbitt Sauer  aka  Kay Buena  (Chief Birdwatcher, Managing Personal Assistant of things going awry in the night) 11-30-2011

    When last we left our characters, they were seemingly in a weird situation.  Betty Jane had been put in her box, with her new hairdo and outfit, one most unacceptable for out door cavorting, and Kay Buena was feeling rather old and crippled up and stodgy.  Elmo as usual, had no problems and continued his post at the window, where the bad birds and squirrels came and went with great gusto.

     What was really odd beyond belief, was what really happened to that mail truck, Mr. Miller and Data. As you may recall Data (the action figure) was in full Sherlock Holmes costume and rarely broke character.  That is, until he seemingly destroyed the “Borg-like” approaching mail truck, which Holmes would probably not have attempted.  After relocating him to our mantel and questioning him for some time, it became clear that Data was really his evil twin, Lor! For Star Trek fans this is not an oddity, in that in various episodes of the TV show, Lor would show up and become  vile and nefarious. His evil ways adding to the plot in dissonance,always fun for the writers.  This had to be the explanation, it was Lor and not Data of course…- in that Data is  Data and we all know how that is (As in “we have plenty of data, yet little information.”) As it turns out the mail truck was not destroyed after all.  And it was some teenager’s doing.  Two teen aged girls were seen fleeing from the tyranny of suburban life into someone’s backyard and into the forrest behind the street parallel to our street. The missing mail truck was backed into one of these “mouse mausoleums”, the given style of our neighborhood’s mail boxes, rectangular edifices with an opening on the side of the street, where the mail person conveniently fills with letters, bills, catalogues and other snail mail goodies.  I remember when we built the house some 18 years ago, I suggested that we make the mail box 1′ by 4′ by 9′.  But the builder had never seen Stanley Kubruck’s 2001.  I am in digression again, but that’s a common problem, especially with the attempt to entertain in a blog.

     The back of the mail truck looked as smashed as roadkill.  And Some of the mail had escaped in the wind. The particular mail box-edifice of the residence where the girls had swerved into while commandeering the mail truck had collided with same in a most un-seemly way.  There was now just a super smashed-sideways mail box and a large pile of bricks where once stood the house’s matching mail station.  The mail truck was still running with the keys  still inside, when the resident came home from work.  He called the post office and Mr.Miller and his mail truck were once again reunited.  Which just goes to show that these strange stories sometimes have a rational ending.

   Betty Jane, Kay Buena, Data (or Lor?),and Elmo had a tendency to get the wrong impression about some everyday occurrences.  Personally, I liked the other ending where Lor used his phaser, but that’s just me.  And if I don’t watch out, they might put me in a box with the acid free tissue paper like was done with my 58 year old doll, Betty Jane as she was unfairly blamed for the chaos of the missing mail truck.  Along with her general trouble making, her eternal rubber band was beginning to stretch to the point where  she was having trouble sitting up or standing.  And speaking of coincidental metaphorical situations, that sounds more and more like my symptoms.

   So, untill the occassion calls for an “out there” blogger, I”ll put the whole crew on another endeavor, like producing some funky rock and roll, or country music. Heck, All I have going for me really is a wild imagination and a Texas Accent, not that that is a bad thing, as you know.

Part 3

The faraway place where Elmo was used to looking out the window, and yearning to join, seemed much too active for him in reality,well more or less but particularly without taking in nourishment.  And as with most cats the intense magnitude of new smells and his ability to freely walk about  in the out-side world, especially as there was so much more to it than imagined, was over whelming.  He thought it prudent to enter with great haste directly into the front flowers bed where he hunkered down and hid.  There were some odd sounds that he experienced, the cars rushing by were less than ideal, but there were some of the birds coming and going, that recognized and knew him to be the cat who only watched from the inside.  His sudden outdoor appearance set the cardinals and  mocking birds into a tizzy, emergency bird calls were coming from the trees and from the many flying little wrens, also strange and fascinating insects were flying above him. Some he remembered to have that weird buzzing sounds like out of the old lady’s ‘noise machine’ she turned on every night for resting and sleeping like it was yesteryear and it was common practice to keep the windows open on a coolish, Texas night.  But,  What a day!  He discovered a lizard and gave it the evil eye.  And he found a couple of bugs that seemed good to eat.  Well, who knows about whats good to eat out here, but he figured he’d give it a try.

Betty Jane and Data took off down the pathway closer to the houses to the north of the sidewalk.  It would be a strange sight, indeed,  if they strolled casually down the side walk like some  of the walkers. Our house is on the top of a straight cut off hill, and the road runs almost horizontal, so people come from where ever to “work out” and walk in some most incredible styles and in astonishing out-fits and lots of bikers, riding bicycles not motorcycles, some with the nerve to wear yellow jerseys, but I’m betting they were not the infamous Lance Armstrong.  Who knows, this is Austin, and supposedly “Keep Austin Weird” was the slogan seen here and there and on bumper stickers.  I doubt, we’d have much of a problem with that, but that is merely my opinion.   Although all of the walkers used the street, which did not vary quite so much, as the non- conforming  side walks.  Data noticed an unknown ship  in a rectangular form approaching from the west.  His experiences in the past with the “Borg” suddenly came back into his memory, as he  froze with the suspicious eye of Sherlock Holmes, (although his were yellow) stating, simply “the game’s afoot”.[1]

It was a great mistake for me to define our post personage, Mr. Miller, as a perfect governmental worker; as he was a complex and intelligent person who probably sang along with rap in his truck, and it was obvious that he secretly and carefully watched every thing happening, on his route with great interest, keeping an eye on those people he found interesting, or who had packages to be delivered to their door, which he did in rain or shine, rather than simply stuff them into those strange mausoleum-shaped mail boxes, where letters and magazines and catalogues were left for the residents to stop by on their way in from work, or wherever, and bring into the house to ponder.   Data sensed an emotion that overcame his ‘Intel’ but his programing kicked in as he searched every image before them.  He was at a lost at what action to be taken, as he and Betty Jane were now hiding in the new landscaped house to the very north of our house, and Mr. Miller had parked his Mail van right in front of that particular side walk.  He motioned for Betty Jane to be quiet and took out his phaser, leaving the violin unprotected – to his better judgement,which was a tad rusty, given all that lolly-gagging around the house with Betty Jane for so long.  Seems like He thought Mr. Miller was a threat. hmmm, I used to think so too… Well, he was about 5’10’ and looked fit in his walking shorts.  This particular “Data” was about 9″ tall with his hat on, much to Elmo’s curses.  Betty Jane was a fairly small doll, however a good bit larger than Data, she wasn’t sure what to do about that approaching Mr. Miller either, so she took on her most serious Republican thoughtful expression, tried to act like she was a normal sight to be seen on a week day, as our Postman advanced, coming forward, coming closer to the two hiding dolls,   This part with the mail personage was not in their well-thought out plans (?),  As Data set his phaser off of “stun“. Thinking a good strategy would be to cause one heck of a distraction,  so he raised it and aimed at the Mail truck, which he figured was the most threatening thing in the “Outside World” after all was said and done. A high-pitched, peircing unfamiliar mechanical blast was noticed by the remaining residents, and then: the KaaaaaaaaaBlllllam, of what it’s effect on the Mail truck was most unusual even for the truly Wierd Austin.  What occurred was not just an explosion, strangely enough, what once was a Mail Truck and a flurry of catalogues and letters, sort of exploded and then disappeared and, the wind blew hard from the west, south-west, sending unrecognizable particles of what was left of the truck down the street  into  the ashes, dust, or sand on the street where the Mail truck once stood idling.  For a decent moment, the noise level was so high that even the old lady inside their own house, was frightened by that strange sound,  and arouse from her serious reading, put on her orthopedic shoes and grabbed her cane to go look out of the study window hoping to see what in the outside World had happened.  Stranger than what she heard was the factor that she saw nothing changing, out doors.  Except it was an exceptionally pretty day.  She walked slowlyand  unsteadily out  the door and then stopped.  Mr. Miller was not hurt in any way, but he was at odds with what to do, since his Mail Truck disappeared.  “What a pity,” said the old lady with the cane, “probably taken by those teenagers that knock over the portapotties out side construction sites, don’t you think?”.  Mr. Miller looked rather out of sorts, mumbled something to the effect of “…I can’t believe that happened…”

I offered to give Mr. Miller a ride to our local Post Office, and  we both rode silently back through out his particular delivery route.  You should know, that before we entered the car, he noticed my cat Elmo still hiding in our front flower bed.  He looked rather guilty, Elmo did, but stood his ground when  I called his name , and  brought him back inside the house.  A Cat is not much of a match when an automobile meet in the middle, so all cats of ours are inside cats, prisoners of love.  Mr. Miller nodded his head, when I thanked him for finding my cat, and I drove down through some of the business parts of his route and let him off at the Post Office.  Actually, I think he took that rather well, much better than when I met him at the door right after we first moved in with a base ball bat as a cane.

[1] http://equotes.wetpaint.com/page/Sherlock+Holmes+Quotes