Post by grandpapatrick on Sept 20, 2017 6:24:40 GMT -5
Hi Friends
I recently got my granddaughter a pet rock. A Dalmatian rock egg. (Do Dalmatians come
from eggs? Learn something new every day. This week I have come to think of my tumbler
as a kind of pet.
I have only been a tumbler for a little over a month but this week I noticed something.
I keep my tumbler in my bathroom. This has advantages and disadvantages. At first
you are going... "What is that... oh, just the tumbler." The next time you go to the
bathroom. "What is that... oh, just the tumbler." The next time you go to the
bathroom. "What is that... oh, just the tumbler." The next time you go to the
bathroom.
After a week of that sort of thing you get to the point where before you enter the bathroom
you say to yourself... "Okay, you are going to hear the tumbler, (enter) ah, there it is."
The next time you are going to the bathroom... "Okay, you are going to hear the tumbler,
(enter) ah, there it is." The next time you are going to the bathroom... "Okay, you are going
to hear the tumbler, (enter) ah, there it is."
The third week when you think about going to the bathroom (I like to keep my fluids up)
you think... "I wonder how my tumbler is doing. (enter) "Ah, there she is, working her
little heart out for me. Boy I feel lazy. She works 24 hours a day 7 days a week." etc. etc.
As you can imagine I spend a lot of time listening to my pet tumbler. She (she is a "she"
you know. () I have been spending a lot of time listening to music lately. When I get
board I like to see if I can name all the instruments in the piece. "Strings, cello, no base
cello." Listening to my tumbler I noticed the drone of the motor. The sound of the rocks
hitting together with some very high sounds and some lower sounds all coming very, very
quickly.
I think about all the millions of impacts that must go on every hour. Then I realize the
reason for the grit. The rocks hitting together may knock off a few atoms with every hit
but put a piece of grit in between two rocks hitting and I can imagine the grit digging
slightly into the surface of the two colliding rocks knocking off many more atoms with
each hit. Many, many more atoms. I can imagine the surface of each rock being pock
marked with dents like the craters on the moon.
Then this week I "serviced" my pet tumbler. Taking out the muddy brown slurry (she has
Diarrhea a lot... sorry) Washing off the rocks. Sitting down with them in my lap on a towel
careful not to dry them off. Looking at each of her children. Seeing how her babies are
developing. So pretty. Each like a child. Unique. One of a kind. What are their names?
I know a few. Rosie quartz. Tiger (my boy). Jasper (the redhead). But others I have
no idea what their name are yet. Just beautiful colors and shapes and textures.
"Okay, all back into the womb until you are ready to be born." Water to cover. Grit.
And a few new friends to keep them company. 2/3-3/4. Seal in good. Clean off outside.
(CAREFUL- nothing down the sink!) Okay, sweetie. Around and around she goes and
where she stops... anyway.
Next time in the bathroom... wait a second. The music has changed. Why is my pet
tumbler not singing to me like she did before? What could be wrong? Is she sick?
Did I over feed my pet tumbler like overfeeding a pet goldfish? Just a pinch. Did
I add too many new friends? What is wrong. Stop it. Try pulling out a few. You can
wait. Now I like you. You have a slight crack, out you come just in case. Reseal and
start her spinning.
Next time in the bathroom. Aaahhhh. Not that! My pet tumbler. She is singing to me
again. That feels so wonderful. Those beautiful high notes. Those low notes. Perfect.
Help me out here fellow tumblers. Am I crazy? Do I have rocks in my head? Should
I embrace my new pet? Or should I be concerned about myself? Should I name her
or banish her to the garage for my mental health?