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Yesterday I stepped out onto the deck and there was Izzy in the bird bath lying in about ½ inch of water. Granted, it was in the upper 90s and pretty humid. She stayed there a good 30 minutes until the Mockingbird took umbrage and ran her off.
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Yesterday I stepped out onto the deck and there was Izzy in the bird bath lying in about ½ inch of water. Granted, it was in the upper 90s and pretty humid. She stayed there a good 30 minutes until the Mockingbird took umbrage and ran her off.
Del 25 al 31 de mayo se llevará a cabo el festival internacional de historietas Viñetas Sueltas en Buenos Aires.
Exposición Historieta Latinoamericana (Centro Cultural Recoleta) Desde el jueves 28 de mayo.
Exponen: Clara Lagos, Federico Baert, Caio Di Lorenzo, Marcos Vergara, Mr. Exes, ZAP, Powerpaola, Fabian Zalazar, Christiano, Dante Ginevra, Kwaichang Kraneo, Angel Mosquito.
I suppose that many of us believe the weekends, especially the long ones, to be the nostrum for the grind of the week – I know that is what is in my head as the weekend approaches. Perhaps that was true in my youth when my batteries had and endless capacity to recharge. Now I wonder if it is that my expectations have expanded or my capacity to execute has diminished – perhaps it is both.
In all reality, Vulpine Manor has benefited from our labors (whether or not the list was completed) and already the list for next weekend has begun. There will be plenty of time for lounging as the weather comes into its summer scorch. Meanwhile the extra rain we are getting and the high humidity has caused exponential growth and cutting must happen lest we fall behind the jungle swell. Some of you might remember the insurmountable vegetation that we faced when we first moved here. I’m proud to say that we are far better off now and NEVER want to go back there again.
I’m yawning so I should claim my pillow. Speaking of claims, I’ll leave you with these:
MINE! ALL MINE!!!
I am so In love with Bollywood films I had to include a piece of the latest one I saw. I was introduced to Slumdog Millionaire by my good friend Danny. This movie was truly a masterpiece. Here is a little bit about the film. If you have not yet seen this film I highly suggest it.
The story of Jamal Malik, an 18 year-old orphan from the slums of Mumbai, who is about to experience the biggest day of his life. With the whole nation watching, he is just one question away from winning a staggering 20 million rupees on India's "Who Wants To Be A Millionaire?" But when the show breaks for the night, police arrest him on suspicion of cheating; how could a street kid know so much? Desperate to prove his innocence, Jamal tells the story of his life in the slum where he and his brother grew up, of their adventures together on the road, of vicious encounters with local gangs, and of Latika, the girl he loved and lost. Each chapter of his story reveals the key to the answer to one of the game shows questions. Each chapter of Jamal's increasingly layered story reveals where he learned the answers to the shows seemingly impossible quizzes. But one question remains a mystery: what is this young man with no apparent desire for riches really doing on the game show? When the new day dawns and Jamal returns to answer the final question, the Inspector and sixty million viewers are about to find out. At the heart of its storytelling lies the question of how anyone comes to know the things they know about life and love.
“Mrs. Pot, is this the pit?” said me.
“Why yes it is, a pit to hiss,” said she.
“The boy, Mrs. Pot …,” said me.
“His name?” said she.
“Gryphon,” said me.
“Has he been hissed in the pit before?” said she.
“No hissing around,” said me.
“Sixty dollars,” said she.
“Uggg,” said me.
“Gryphon’s collar,” said she.
“I’m wearing THAT?!” said he.
“’twill but tickle,” said she.
“In the pit?” said me.
“In the pit and be hissed,” said she.
“The hissers?” said me
“Are three,” said she.
“The grass, the box and the bush,” said she.
“What that?” said he.
“A hisser,” said me.
“WHAT”S THAT?!?!?” said he.
“A tickle,” said she.
“DAMN!” said he.
“It worked,” said she.
“To the bush!” said she.
“Ok,” said he.
“Rattle hissssss,” said Three.
“
“Bravo!” said she.
“He passed?” said me.
“Grade A,” said she.
“I’m outtie,” said he.
“In the truck,” said me.
“A COOKIE!” said he.
So we left ol’ Mrs. Pot’s pit and her hissers three and went home to where we don’t have a Mrs. Pot or a pit to hiss in. Perhaps we never will. Should a hisser stop to hiss, without a pit, Gryphon now knows to “let it be, let it be, if there is a hisser, let it be!” (sorry John)
Note: snake awareness training is serious business in parts of the country (like ours) where hissers are about. The old adage of “an ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure” sure applies here. Although I was loathe taking him to this training, it was certainly not as bad as I anticipated. I will have to admit that it was weird wandering around in the grass field where there was 1 Diamondback Rattler loose (rattling, agressive and sometimes within just a few feet), 1 rattler underneath a dead cedar bough (and rattling) and a Copperhead in a box. The vipers were all missing the venom glands but were fully functioning and healthy otherwise. Frankly I think the exposure in the viper emporium was as helpful to the bipeds as the canines – recognizing potential danger by sight and sound and also by observing the viper’s behavior. There were 20 dogs, more people, 3 vipers, lots of stories (both good and bad) that support the activity and I came away with a companion that KNOWS not to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong.
Gryphon’s first days here have been phenomenal. He’s taken to the house, cats, critters and us. It has been an instant bond from the day I arrived at the breeder’s and he took to “B” immediately when he and I arrived home. One cat has become his “bud” and one is a bit hesitant, but doesn’t flee when he approaches. Izzy, on the other hand, cannot understand WHY we would let such a behemoth in HER house! She gets along with all the other critters, including
He’s had no issues being in his kennel during the day (I suspect that he sleeps most of the day). He was a bit restless at night and we realized that he was used to having a crate to retreat into and has been fine at night since that purchase. Using a crate has been a huge change from how things were with
The trip was like most road trips that you push through alone. It was mostly a drive on auto-pilot; although, this time I managed to remember to pick up several book CDs from the library before setting out. The books made the long miles easier, especially at night.
The straightest and fastest shot from home to
The most stressful part of the trip was the very first night. Dark had fallen hard while I was still on I-10 and I was already wary of the stretch north from Ft. Stockton to the New Mexico border. I had not seen another vehicle in a couple of hours. This lonely road is a lot of sage, oil wells and … well … nothing actually. There was, however, a proliferation of jack rabbits, horned owls, coyotes and deer. Proliferation is not an adequate word; abundant might be a better choice, but still doesn’t do it justice. The scene played out like a peripheral sidebar featuring a Steven King novel while I was listening to Sarah Dunant’s In the Company of the Courtesan – a very weird experience at best, with carnage both in the book and on the road. After a half dozen owls had flown up in front of the Explorer over the course of 10 miles I began to feel a little spooked by all the nocturnal hijinks and pulled off in the next picnic area to sleep till dawn – probably another 40 miles and many more owls and critters.
I got out to unkink and shake off the unsettling miles, looked up and was awestruck. What struck me in this very western part of
The rest of the trip was pretty uneventful, save the suicidal flood of bugs upon the windshield north of
I spent a good bit of the time feeling like I was in a huge extended neighborhood, since I’ve run this route so often. I really don’t have to think where to turn, where the motels are, where the gas exits are as well as the restaurants. I’m sure truckers must feel this way. No thinking - pas de la pensée. There were long distances of some pretty spectacular scenery and often I would find myself absorbed in what seemed like an endless non sequitur - flashes of grandeur that had zero relation to the book I was listening to – comic and confusing sometimes. On the return I had the added comedy of Gryphon – my own canine Cirque du Soleil.
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