We Went To A Pipe Organ Concert

Ah the Life of a Cat

If I can choose, I would like to come back as a cat next time. You sleep about 23 hours out of the day. My cats have set the standard quite high. When they finally wake up, their day is spent killing birds, gophers, and other rodents.

But right now they have a very important pastime of watching for the mailman and his delivery of their new Furminator.

Of course, being the cutest baby one is THE most important job. Ever.

For those readers that refer to the subject photographed here as the Devil, shame on you. Clearly I have proven you wrong.

Walking

On Saturday, my mother complained that her knee was bothering her and that she didn't want to go to lunch or shop at the local nursery. Fine. Lunch was good and I bought some Peppermint Daddy pansies.

On Sunday, her knee still bothered her. I asked if she would like to go with me and the poopy dog to the park then come over for dinner. She could walk as much or as little as she liked. The dog would have fun riding in the car. He would have fun digging for gophers. I would take pictures. Okay. She would do it. I picked her up. She put on my dad's old coat to keep her warm on this cool spring day. She brought his cane to help her with her walking. We were off to the park.

The hills were green. The trees were budding. I ushered her toward the bike path so she would walk on smooth, solid ground. And she's off! Dang. Her pace picked up and we were truckin'. Kids were rollerskating and bicycling. She could hang. If this is how she exercises with a bum knee, I think the Olympics are in her future when she heals.

She may not like her picture here; but I'll take my chances since she still doesn't even know how to turn on my dad's computer.

The Hills Are Alive...

This afternoon, I went for a walk in the hills with the Dude and the dog. Note: I pronounce "hill" as if I'm from Texas (heel). I'm not. The rain yesterday cleared the skies and sweetened the grass. The hills in the foreground are used by cross country runners training to win, Bureau of Land Management firemen training to put out forest fires (The Sierra Nevadas are in the distance.), mountain bike enthusiasts, and middle aged fulump-a-dumps walking their dog.

We parked at the base of the hills along with all the others. As soon as I opened the door of the Element, the poopy dog rolled out to get started. He was enthusiastic. He was so enthusiastic that he had to leave evidence that he is the most efficient food processor around. Pee You! At the base was a BLM fireman suited up for training. He had a backpack loaded with weights along with a shovel. We started about the same time except we took different paths. He's the tiny little yellow dot on the image below. He's also the even tinier little yellow dot on the image above. Click on either photo for a bigger view.

Soon this grass will be golden brown and the BLM guy will be sweating bullets with the heat from the sun and heat from the fire. The skies will be full of smoke and hazy and this view will be a dream. I'll try to return and take a picture of one of those ugly days. Until then, I'm loving the weather.

Words & Phrases That Drive Me Nuts!

Organic
Authentic
Amazing
Surreal
Warm & Inviting
Transparent
Ethereal Late entry

Oh, I know there are many others. I'm sure to revisit this blog and add to the list. Let me know your suggestions by commenting...or not.

Wordless Wednesday

Don't Pinch Me. I'll Sock You!

I guess everyone wants to be Irish on St. Paddy's Day. Excuse me for not wearing the traditional green. Being a WASP requires no allegiance to the patron saint of Ireland. Besides, doesn't John Knox seem like a party animal? My mother prefers I wear orange...and you never mess with Mother.

I See England. I See France

Let's pretend I have a jet waiting for you at the airport to take you anywhere on this globe for a 5 day stay in 5 star style. Where would you like me to take you? AND...I'll let you bring 2 guests. One guest is currently alive. One guest is historic (dead). Don't think about it too much. What does your gut say?

Me? Paris with Jacque Pepin and Benjamin Franklin.

Dody Goodman Day Today

Did you ever see the movie Splash? Dody Goodman is in that movie. She plays the character of a woman - Mrs. Stimler - who is a bit off (See picture above.). Here's a nice quote from the movie to explain what I'm talking about:

Allen: Are there any messages?
Mrs. Stimler: Oh, yes. [goes back to typing]
Allen: [pause] And they are?
Mrs. Stimler: Oh, you're father called, he wants you to call him back.
Allen: [pauses] Um, my father passed away several years ago.
Mrs. Stimler: [confused look] Shall I ring him for you?
Allen: No, thanks.

Today, I was Dody Goodman. All day long I was a bit off. Thankfully, I didn't expose myself in the extreme manner of good old Dody. Hope your Friday the 13th is a good one.

The Sound of a Frog

Have you noticed that young ladies (18-26) talk in the form of a question when what they're saying isn't even a question? It's as if they aren't sure of their statement? No matter how inconsequential the statement may be, the tone or canter of the speech is always in the form of a question? Maybe they're practicing for Jeopardy? Maybe their insecurity is showing? Maybe they are seeking approval? No matter - it's annoying? To make matters worse, they speak like Froggy? No soft spoken maiden like voices? Their voice is gravelly and rough just like old Froggy from the Little Rascals? You may notice the pattern and become annoyed like me?

Note: This was very difficult for me to end each sentence with a question mark.

2nd Note: There used to be a bar in Pumpkin Center, California named Froggy's. It was thought to be owned by Froggy. However, Billy "Froggy" Laughlin died on August 31, 1948, when a bus hit him from behind whilst riding a motor scooter in La Puenta, California. He was killed instantly.

Wildflowers Without Words

Blue Moon

I think my favorite vocalist to sing Blue Moon is Ella Fitzgerald.
Frank Sinatra is up there too.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4218R-gBmts Ella

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xrIstkuso98 Dean

Dean Martin was funny cool. Ella Fitzgerald was smooth. How come music is no longer lovely?

Enjoy the music.

Carl?

Yesterday, the battle resumed. My dog walk in the park turned into an excavation of that blasted varmint, Mr. Gopher. Even when the dog is pooped from walking or digging, if there is the scent of a gopher (possible title of A Scent of a Woman parody) - the war continues.

Varmints!

On an Easter afternoon about 5 years ago, my dog had a memorable encounter with a gopher in my backyard. He had been digging after this rodent; and finally, on that Sunday afternoon he got it! However, that gopher bit him on his lip. My dog has not forgotten this insult. When he goes walking at the gopher infested park in our town, he continues the hunt for this lowly beast. My dog becomes Carl Spackler. Today, as we were ending our walk, I saw what I thought was the remains of a squirrel that a coyote may have torn apart. Then the thing moved - jumped. Holy Smokes! It's a gopher above ground. My dog was on like Donkey Kong. He jammed his nose down that hole blasting his giant head into the ground. His snout must have sucked out all the oxygen from the tunnel system in one breath. He immediately started in excavating the area with rigorous swipes of the ground with his island size paws removing buckets of earth. Sadly, he came away empty pawed. The gopher got away again. Perhaps he will use the Elmer Fudd technique next time since the Carl Spackler way has proved fruitless.