New Year's Eve

It is New Year's Eve, a time of reflection and the making of New Year's resolutions. A time for taking inventory of one's successes and failures. So-called successes and failures for those who measure things strictly in monetary worth. I have nothing to show in either category, since I remained pretty much status quo in 2009. Spiralling downward financially as I made small strides spiritually, as I have done for the past few years. Personally speaking, my greatest success was in nursing a feral cat, Ponzo, back to health, so to speak. My greatest failure, pertinent to my own little world, was in my lack of organization, because my house remains disorganized, despite all the previous years' resolutions to get organized--I write of paper clutter! Therefore, my New Year's resolution is to never again make another resolution to get organized. It will get done when it gets done--if I feel like it. I would rather reflect and give thanks for my family, which includes my cats and Rebel, and friends, who mean the world to me. And I would also like to thank my followers and the Google spiders who keep my blog listed on the Google search engine. Oh, I am suddenly seized with the desire to make another New Year's resolution--I hope to at least double the number of public followers on my blog in 2010, and since I have only two registered, public followers at the time of this writing, I hope to have a minimum of four by 2011. Now here is a New Year's resolution I can live with--I think!

Bell Garland

Mark Twain enjoys playing with the bell garland on the Christmas tree.

Twelve Days of Christmas

Yesterday, someone informed me that Christmas was over. I don't think so. Whatever happened to the twelve days of Christmas? After all, it's not just the title of a song. But I must admit that it is somewhat depressing to see discarded Christmas trees as early as December 26th, especially since Christmas really does not start with the eleven shopping days preceding the 25th of December. And a partridge in a pear tree to you, my friend.

The Answer Man

I had planned on watching DVDs while I decorated our Christmas tree. In fact, I had also planned on watching some new DVDs, while I sat in front of the fireplace and sipped hot chocolate, coffee, and tea throughout the day on December 25th. But that was not meant to be, because my television/VCR combo died on Sunday, December 20th, during one of my numerous snow shovelling breaks when I attempted to play Dolly Parton's Heartsong video, which I had purchased in Dollywood a decade ago. I figured that video was perfect for the holiday season. Nothing. Dead television and dead VCR. Plus, Dolly Parton's video was stuck in the machine. Needless to say, having a dead television also meant having no DVD player.

Since I no longer have cable television, other than the basic channels, yesterday I was going through some severe movie withdrawal. So I decided that Ponzo and I would watch a movie on my computer. When I looked at my Netflix queue, I noticed that one of my listed movies, The Answer Man, was available to be played instantly. You might say that fate made the selection for me. While I cannot speak for Ponzo, who probably prefers watching Rebel rolling over on YouTube, I highly recommend The Answer Man, starring Jeff Daniels as Arlen Faber, a reclusive author, because the movie is witty and tugs at one's heart strings. And it made me laugh.

I related to the character Arlen Faber when he could not get up because of his back pain, and he went to see a chiropractor afterwards. Only Mother Nature was my chiropractor. But I know how Arlen felt. You see, one night in mid-February 2007, I went to bed in a lot of pain and woke up the next morning unable to move at all, because the pain was excruciating. On a scale of 1 to 10, I would say the pain was at least a 10. Making a long story short, I laughed when Arlen crawled to the chiropractor's office because it reminded me that I had found myself walking on my knees around my house, when I was finally able to crawl out of bed. A couple of days later, when I was able to walk, taking baby steps, my worst fear was realized when I fell on my icy driveway. What was I doing? I was checking the work of the backhoe, which had removed most of the ice from my driveway earlier. Flat on my back and fearing that I would be unable to move at all, I recall wondering how long it would be before someone came driving down the road and noticed me lying in my driveway. Slowly, I got up the courage to attempt to move and discovered a miracle had taken place, for I got up. Pain-free! What were the odds of that happening?! Anyway, I gave The Answer Man five stars on Netflix--something which I very rarely do.

Charlotte Is the Reason

Why are there no lights on our Christmas tree? Charlotte is the reason. When she was just a kitten last December, Charlotte managed to chew the string of lights on our expensive, definitely overpriced, artificial Christmas tree, which I liked very much, especially since all I had to do was take it, already decorated (lights and all) out of its box. Fortunately, the tree lights were not plugged in when Charlotte attacked the wires. Therefore, since I cannot trust Charlotte around tree lights, I had to make a choice: either banish Charlotte from the living room for the duration of the Christmas tree's indoor stay or not have any tree lights. Needless to say, no tree lights was the sensible choice.

Second Day

"Merry second day of Christmas!" That was the greeting I got from a stranger walking down my road this morning. Today is also the second day of our Christmas tree being indoors and decorated. As you can see in the photo, Mark Twain is under the tree (sort of), near the strand of gold beads which someone took off the tree during the night, and Rebel is enjoying his rawhide, which he received for rolling over in the video I am about to post on YouTube. It is called Santa Dog Rolls Over.mov.

Happy Holidays

Waiting for Our Mailma'am

Monday through Saturday, Rebel waits to see our mailma'am drive by. In fact, the mail carrier has told me that my dog has two different barks for her: one when she drives up the mountain and another bark for her return trip. I have noticed that Rebel knows the sound of her car, since he starts getting excited long before the vehicle is visible. Anyway, both Rebel and I were overjoyed to see our mail carrier pull into our driveway yesterday. She came bearing the last of Santa's packages, and I merrily informed her that her arrival signalled the end of my snow shovelling. That is, for this snow. I threw down the snow shovel with great pleasure, as I took three packages from her arms. The rest of my driveway will just have to wait for the sun or the spring thaw to help us out.

A Happy House

"Happy is the house that shelters a friend!"

--R. W. Emerson

Snow

This photo depicts the extent of Rebel's physical assistance in our snow removal project. He prefers to be my supervisor, sitting on the deck and carefully observing me shoveling snow. It has been a very slow process, especially since my breaks are getting more frequent and longer each day. Actually, I spend a great deal of time standing around and just looking up at the trees. This is my glass is half-full attitude coming into play. If I viewed the snow removal as a chore, I would probably get depressed over it because it is hard work. Only I prefer to see it as exercise. It will get done when it gets done. During the blizzard on Saturday, which I shall call Day One of Shoveling, I only shoveled enough of a path for Rebel to get off the deck and have a little space. On Day Two, I made a narrow footpath up my driveway. Disregarding my blurry vision and waxing carpal tunnel, I shoveled enough space at the entrance of the driveway for one of Santa's helpers' (USPS, UPS, FedEx) vehicles. On Day Three, I shoveled enough snow for a vehicle plus Santa's sleigh sans reindeer. And today, Day Four, there is enough room for all of Santa's reindeer in addition to the sleigh and helpers' vehicle. As for my own vehicle, it is snowed in; it is inside the garage, where it will probably remain for a long time.

Winter Begins

Mikey Stays Out Partying

This is how Mikey looks after staying out all night partying. Pretty good. Apparently, she must have been invited to a Christmas party at the Opossums' home, because the last time I saw Mikey on Saturday evening was when I let her outside and then I saw her disappear into the cats' underground railroad passageway, which can be taken to the Opossums' residence under our deck. I have never been invited to any of the Opossums' social functions, but Rebel, who has also never been invited, has pointed out their residence to me many times as we've walked on the roof of the marsupials' humble abode. Anyway, that was the only place Mikey could have gone, because a couple feet of snow engulfed our house. And Mikey must have been having a good time eating mouse or whatever non-vegetarian food the Opossums were serving, since she refused to come home, despite the bitter cold, until I let Rebel outside this morning. Oh, I had planned on taping Rebel in the snow; instead, I happened to capture the moment Mikey returned home, and I am putting that very short video on YouTube, for anybody who would like to see our gorgeous girl Mikey. A reality video. Mikey Comes Home.mov.

Let It Snow

Due to the fact that they were calling for snow last night, I decided I had to get the rest of my holiday greeting cards in the mail posthaste. Unfortunately, I could find neither my holiday postage stamps nor my opened box of cards, even though I ransacked my house in an anxiety-ridden state. To say I hate misplacing things is an understatement. And perhaps one of these years I shall do something about getting organized--that has been my New Year's resolution for more years than I remember. I digress. Yesterday I had to open a new box of greeting cards, and some people will be receiving Christmas cards with either a flag or a Hawaii postage stamp on the envelope. I hope my friends will find it amusing to see the Hawaii stamp, since a surfer seems really out of seasonal place now because we are in the middle of a blizzard. Oh, I finally found my holiday stamps. Apparently, one of the cats (I suspect Mark Twain) must have accidentally knocked them behind the desk, which is the last place I looked for them. Naturally. As for the missing Christmas cards, I still have no idea what happened to them.

Since I suspected we were going to get snowed in this weekend, I decided I needed to buy a Christmas tree. That makes perfect sense to me. It is okay not to have a tree when there is no snow, but if I am going to be a resident of a Winter Wonderland, then I must have a tree. There is nothing better than decorating a tree by the fire when there is snow falling outside. Besides, I wanted the live Serbian Spruce I purchased last December to have a companion. Making a long story short, Rebel, dressed in his Santa hoodie, and I braved the traffic in town yesterday evening and came home with a Christmas tree, which I leaned against the window in the photo. And as you can see, Mark Twain found it fascinating. It will be much more fascinating when the tree comes indoors for a while. That's right, the tree is still outdoors. I was too tired to do anything but sit by the fire and look out the window at the snow today. Nevertheless, it is a Winter Wonderland.

My Interior Designers

This morning I learned that Ponzo has been taking lessons in interior design from Quentin. This was a well-kept secret from me. However, while Quentin truly enjoys taking down valances just for the fun of it, I fear that Ponzo's heart is not really in decorating. I believe the formerly feral cat is more interested in trying to figure out an escape route via the window. Ponzo does miss the outside world, but those days ended when I discovered him in the cats' underground railroad passageway in July. This cloud does have a silver lining, though, because Ponzo has been doing well since the end of summer.

The Classics in Paperback

When I got up yesterday morning, I discovered that somebody had been reading the classics in paperback during the night. It appears that Nathaniel Hawthorne's The House of the Seven Gables had been considered, but Ivan Turgenev's Fathers and Sons was selected. That reminds me, I still have not read War and Peace, which is one of many books I have been meaning to read over the years. Perhaps I shall make that my new year's resolution. (But then, I have yet to keep a new year's resolution.) Anyway, this is the first time any of the cats have taken a book off the shelves. As for magazines and papers of any kind that get left on the desk, table, kitchen counter, or coffee table--one would think the cats' assistance in creating a paper mess would encourage me to keep organized. Think again.

Missing Suet Cake Basket

A week or so ago, I attached a small hook on the other side of this post and, using a red ribbon, I tied a suet cake basket to it. I placed a homemade cake of peanut butter and birdseed in the basket, and it attracted quite a number of interesting birds, including a red-headed woodpecker, for the entertainment of Mark Twain, who enjoyed looking at the winged diners through the living room windows. Well, that entertainment lasted only a few days. Honestly, I am surprised it lasted that long, because the basket and red ribbon disappeared one night without a trace. Since the black bears should be in hibernation already, I suspect that perhaps it could have been a dog. I would have guessed a raccoon to be the culprit, but there is not even the hint of a scratch on the wood, so I believe the animal must have jumped up to take down the basket. Maybe I shall try hanging pine cones covered in peanut butter and birdseed next time.

Hospitality

"Hospitality consists in a little fire,

a little food, and an immense quiet."

--R. W. Emerson

The Fireplace

According to Dr. Oz on GMA today, we should not be sitting closer than six feet from the fireplace. Does he mean both wood-burning and gas-burning fireplaces? And does that rule also apply to four-legged family members? Well, I measured the distance from my armchair to the fireplace, and it is more than seven feet, so the cats who like to sleep on it and I are safe. Locksley, who is mesmerized by the fire, on the other hand, prefers to sleep as close as possible to the fireplace. That is his favorite spot during the wintertime.

At Paw's Length

Rebel, Mark Twain, Locksley and I were lounging in front of the fireplace today, when I took this photo. Mark Twain adores Rebel, his best buddy, and here he is playfully keeping Rebel at paw's length. A little later, Locksley decided to wash Mark Twain's head and neck, and Mark Twain enjoyed being groomed. That was when I decided I wanted to videotape the two cats together. Well, things do not always turn out as planned, needless to say. By the time I got the camera, a happy Mark Twain was still being groomed by Locksley. However, just as I aimed the camera at the two cats, Rebel decided to jump up, and that motion disturbed Locksley, because he immediately stopped grooming Mark Twain. Not only that, he punched a stunned Mark Twain's face. But Mark Twain took the high road and, after he stopped reeling from the unexpected punch, he turned the other cheek. Literally. By the way, Locksley is our sassy cat. But Mark Twain held no grudge against him for the blow to his ego. A few minutes later, they were sleeping side by side.

If you would like to witness this punch, I am posting it on YouTube under the title Cat Punches Cat.mov.

A Mug of Coffee, Tea or Hot Chocolate

Santa, disguised as a FedEx employee, delivered a large box to my front door on Monday. I opened it immediately. My excuse was that the present was not wrapped. But even if it had come wrapped with a message telling me not to open the box until Christmas, I would take the suggestion under advisement and probably open my gift anyway. Immediately. Why wait? After all, I have no tree this year. Not that that would make much of a difference, if any.

Although the photo of the cappuccino-filled mug and the homemade banana cream pie was taken on Thanksgiving Day, it is a hint as to what Santa brought me. No, it was not another cappuccino machine, but it did replace the cappuccino maker I had sitting on the counter next to my microwave. Actually, nothing can replace my cappuccino maker, since I love cappuccino. I should say that I had to relocate my cappuccino machine to another counter, because I had to put my new machine in that location. If you have not guessed (why would you?), Santa brought me a Single Cup Brewer, which will replace both my tea kettles and microwave for making tea. No more forgetting the kettle on the stove, while I sit, falling asleep, at my extremely slow computer; I must say water boils faster than my computer does its scanning thing. My new brewer toy is very convenient, I must say--and it is simple to use, even for someone as technologically challenged as I am.

Rebel on YouTube

Three videos of Rebel, my boxer-lab, are available for viewing on YouTube at the present time. You might say I am practicing filmmaking, but I have no idea what I am doing; therefore, I give new meaning to the word amateur. Rebel, on the other hand, is a natural.

Rebel Rolls Over. mov

Rebel, Rolling Over. mov

Rebel's Tricks for Treats. mov

Believe

Believe nothing of what you hear,

and only half of what you see.--Proverb

Rebel Rolls Over on YouTube

Posted on YouTube, you can see Rebel rolling over in our still dark living room (even though I turned on a number of lights). Category: Pets & Animals. Title: Rebel Rolls Over, mov. Apparently, there are a number of dogs named Rebel on YouTube. Oh, if you should happen to look closely at the video of my Rebel, you just might catch a glimpse of gray streaking in the background; I am not 100% certain, but I believe that gray streak is Ginny.

Ventriloquism

Three of my cats, Locksley, Quentin, and Emma, must think I have taken up ventriloquism. Actually, I have taken up making videos. That is, I took my first video today with my little digital camera. It probably would have been better, at least a little easier, had I bothered to look at my Kodak getting started guide, but I like to do things the hard way. Trial-and-error. It is more challenging that way. Plus, it gives me a sense of satisfaction when things work out, despite my not knowing what it is that I am supposed to be doing. Anyway, I decided Rebel would be in my first video. Anticipating what I was going to ask him to do, Rebel rolled over before I even gave him the command. That's funny. I mean, before I gave him my request. Rebel rolled over a total of five times per my request, after his first voluntary roll over. Well, when I played back the video, Locksley, Quentin, and Emma came running into the living room. I wish I could have taped their facial expressions. After all, I played back the video several times, and the three of them stared at my face, yet knew they heard my voice coming out of the camera because my lips were not moving. Rebel, on the other hand, chose to look out the window. Eventually, Locksley decided he needed to growl, because the camera was obviously up to no good. I mean, it was pretending to be my voice. As for the quality of the video itself, the color was fine in my camera, but it turned out way too dark when I viewed it on my computer. And so, folks, that was my first attempt at videotaping.

Five Cats by the Fireplace

The more the merrier.--Proverb

Proper Office of a Friend

"The proper office of a friend is to side with you when you are in the wrong. Nearly anybody will side with you when you are in the right." --MARK TWAIN

The Weather

"Everybody talks about the weather

but nobody does anything about it."

--MARK TWAIN

Rebel in Snowfall Photo

Snowfall at Dusk Photo

Santa Hoodie

Rebel tried on his new Santa hoodie yesterday. After I dressed him, Rebel stood motionless, as depicted in this photo. He reminded me of one of those living statues. Perhaps he can try out to be one at Disney World for the holidays sometime. Anyway, it's funny how Rebel never allows me to clip his nails--he even mock bites me, and yet he will stand very patiently while I dress him. Rebel is like a mannequin when it comes to clothing. As for the Santa hoodie, Rebel will get to wear it outside today in our first snow of the season.

When in Doubt

"When in doubt, tell the truth."

--MARK TWAIN

Around Midnight

Around midnight tonight, it will be two years that Yoda has been a member of our family. That was the night that the shy, black feral cat moved into the house. He had been a half-grown kitten when he showed up on our deck via "the cats' underground railroad passageway" during the previous summer. At first, he preferred to hide in the passageway, but soon he moved onto the deck. I named him Yoda because he had not grown into his very large ears yet.

While Yoda had made friends with Rebel rather quickly, it took a while for me to be able to touch him, and I was only permitted to pat Yoda lightly on the head. I figured Yoda had made friends with Rebel because he thought the large dog would make a good buddy, especially in case he needed protection from the cats in the neighborhood. Yoda was not a fighter, although he already sported a ragged ear. After all, a cat can't run from a bully cat.

Anyway, it was a bitterly cold night two years ago, when Godot decided to dart out the front door as I let Rebel back into the house. At the time, my docile Godot would turn into a screaming banshee, ready to attack anyone who approached him, whenever he managed to escape outside. Well, I knew I had a problem when Yoda appeared, since he was interested in making the acquaintance of my banshee in tuxedo cat's clothing. Immediately, I decided it would be easier to lure the feral cat into my house than it would be to catch Godot, who would return only when he was ready to do so.

Therefore, using canned tuna catfood as bait, I held the front door open, and Yoda very slowly stuck his nose inside. When the tip of Yoda's tail eventually entered the house, I quickly shut the door behind him. And that's where Yoda stayed the entire night, right by the door, under a small table. As for Godot, he eventually returned with an attitude, since he probably thought that letting a feral cat into the house was a bad idea.

When I got up in the morning, Yoda had moved under the hutch in the dining room. So, I went about my morning routine. When I noticed that Yoda had disappeared from underneath the hutch, I called his name and got a loud response from the bedroom. Horrified, I already knew what he was doing before I reached the room. Yoda stood urinating on the green carpet at the side of the bed. I believe he was apologizing, because he just kept talking. Since it was not his fault, but mine, I waited patiently until Yoda was done. Hoping the feral cat would not freak out on me, I picked him up quickly and, holding him at arm's length, I carried him into the bathroom, where I introduced him to a litterbox. Second introductions were necessary, but he has never had an accident since that first time. And that is how Yoda became a housecat.

Has Yoda ever expressed an interest in going outside again? No. He knows life is better inside the house. Yoda is my ragdoll cat now.

"Jingle Bells"

I took this photo last December. Was Rebel caroling? Or was he arguing with me? I don't remember.

Jingle Bells

It started with the red bells. Except for the silk poinsettias in the dining room, they were going to be my only holiday decorations this year. I hung the bells on the outside front windows and door. The next day, I glanced at the bare fireplace wall--out came the wreath. The following day, I just had to hang up a couple of Christmas stockings, which meant the reindeer stocking holders were placed on the mantel first. There was something missing, though, so I put a large candle on the mantel in-between the two reindeer sans antlers. You see, over the years, the reindeer have been knocked down accidentally by me, not the cats, and the antlers have broken off. One by one. I have never been able to reattach them. Therefore, my reindeer are does. "Doe a deer, a female deer...." Never mind. And last but not least, I hung up the jingle bells in the bathroom. The rest of the ornaments are going to remain in the closet. I am not even going to take out the small artificial tree, which is already decorated and simply needs to be taken out of its box. Last year, little Charlotte chewed up the lights which, fortunately, had not been plugged in, but that is another story. No tree this year, even though the cats love Christmas trees. And so do I. Perhaps I shall post some photos of Christmases past, when we had two or three trees in the house. This holiday season, however, I am taking the path of least amount of work.

Thanksgiving Day Salamander

This is the salamander I discovered under a pile of leaves on my deck on Thanksgiving Day. Fortunately for him, I had used my foot instead of a rake in removing the leaves, and I did not kick the little creature. Very slowly, with my coaxing, the salamander made his way into the crack between two floor boards, where he remained for quite some time.

As much as I would like to assist Ponzo in writing more posts to be scheduled in the future, I am exhausted after doing some leaf-raking. More like leaf-walking and leaf-pushing, since I don't bag the leaves. I just walk and push them downhill into the woods. Still, I feel the pain. I don't care what anybody says, raking (or walking or pushing) leaves is hard work. That being said, I shall now fix a cup of hot cider and plop myself into my recliner to watch a movie.

Can't Well Be Hid

"Love, cough, and a smoke,

can't well be hid."

--Benjamin Franklin

Six Degrees of Separation

Several years ago, a friend and I discussed the theory of six degrees of separation, when he told me that a friend of his had known George Harrison. Yes, the George Harrison of The Beatles. Incidentally, my sister recently reminded me that George had been my favorite Beatle when I was a child. According to her, he was simply my favorite because Paul McCartney had been the most popular Beatle and so, of course, I had to be different. I digress. Since I had also once met my friend's friend who knew George Harrison, I am not certain if I would be considered separated by two or by three degrees from my favorite Beatle. Technically, I guess it would be only two.

Well, I have not given the theory of six degrees of separation much thought. Until last week. I had not paid much attention to the news regarding the couple who crashed the White House State Dinner, until I heard the Oasis Winery mentioned. Then suddenly, I recognized Michaele and Tareq Salahi. Had I not heard the name of the winery, I probably never would have recognized Michaele in the red and gold lehenga. My new vocabulary word. Making a short story even shorter, I had met the two vintners at their winery two or three years ago. And immediately upon finally recognizing these party crashers on the news, I phoned a friend who had been with me at the winery, where we had noticed a photo of the Salahis with Jerry Seinfeld. Yes, the comedian. So now I'm thinking that, not only are there just two degrees separating Jerry Seinfeld from me, I am only a couple of degrees away from Washington's elite. And that means Ponzo is just three degrees removed. Small world. Now I've got the lyrics from the Disney ride in my head: "It's a small world after all...."

Quentin Quotes Franklin

"Who has deceived thee so oft as thyself?"

--Benjamin Franklin

Troubled at Nothing

"They who have nothing to be troubled at,

will be troubled at nothing."

--Benjamin Franklin

Wit and Humour

"Wit and Humour--if any difference it is in duration--

lightning and electric light.

Same material, apparently; but one is vivid,

and can do damage--

the other fools along and enjoys elaboration."

--MARK TWAIN

A Wild Turkey

HAPPY THANKSGIVING

Eat What You Like

"Part of the secret of success in life is to eat what you like

and let the food fight it out inside."

--MARK TWAIN

Three Chairs

"I had three chairs in my house:

one for solitude, two for friendship,

three for society."

--H. D. Thoreau

The Tax Assessor

When Rebel announced the arrival of a vehicle in our driveway this morning, I was still dressed in my "Black Dog," red flannel nightgown, over which I was wearing the indestructible green bathrobe (it appears teal in the photo) I had inherited from my grandmother years ago. I believe Estelle Getty wore a bathrobe like it, at least once, on The Golden Girls. Nor had I even bothered to comb my hair, which I hadn't washed in a number of days. And I was still debating whether or not I could get away with not coloring my hair for Thanksgiving, since my roots weren't that long yet. In short, I am certain I looked somewhat of a fright when I answered the door to the person who identified himself as the Tax Assessor.

Leaving Rebel inside the house, I stepped outside to chat with the man, who pointed to my "nice-looking cat" in the doorway. That would be Mark Twain, who had made an appearance perhaps to see whether Rebel and I needed help in defending our home. I am serious. I wanted to say that my cat must've known instinctively that the tax assessor was up to no good; however, not knowing whether the man had a sense of humor, I merely told him Mark Twain's name.

Since I do not know the correct etiquette regarding tax assessors, I decided not to invite the man into my house, even though he asked me twice how many bedrooms and bathrooms were in my domicile. I won't bore you with the details of our entire conversation, other than I mentioned the foreclosures in my neighborhood (apparently, they're not considered in tax assessments, since they don't fall under the heading of fair market value), but I was told some property taxes would be going down. I wonder if all the half-raked piles of leaves in my yard and the green mildew on the aluminum siding because of all the rain, not to mention the leaves in the gutters plus the plantlife in some of them, would contribute to a decrease in market value for tax assessment purposes. One can only hope. Anyway, I joked with the man that maybe I should put up a toll booth on my road, since part of the road is actually on my property, according to a survey I had done prior to buying the place. Hmm, if my taxes get raised, perhaps I should look into getting reimbursed for a few feet of land belonging to me only on paper. After all, every square foot counts!

Turkey Buzzards

A week ago, I had three turkey buzzards on my property. That is, they flew into the trees when I approached them to take a photo. They had actually been tending to their duties as nature's undertakers. Unfortunately, a poor opossum had been killed on my road. Anyway, the vulture whose picture I took from a distance did not rejoin his two friends, who returned to their dining experience. But even those two vultures soon gave up, since their meal kept being interrupted by traffic. As I watched drivers brake for the birds in the middle of the road, I wondered if vultures ever become roadkill--and if so, who are their undertakers, so to speak? By the way, I had a close encounter with a turkey buzzard on my road a couple of years ago. I have to say, they have an impressive wingspan, especially when they appear to be flying head-on into one's windshield!

Waxing and Waning

This afternoon I attempted to take a photo of Locksley grooming Emma, who is feeling under the weather. Instead, I managed to capture this shot of Locksley's sudden interest in studying the camera lens pointed at him.

My carpal tunnel syndrome is waxing. My computer is waning. My Kodak EasyShare software program is being difficult. The weather is miserable. Today is a good day for curling up in bed with a good book and a cat or two. Watching a funny movie would also be a good idea.

Leaves

"If a man owns land,

the land owns him."

--R. W. Emerson

My computer is still as slow as molasses. It is probably even slower than I am raking leaves--if that is possible. As for the green elephantine-looking leaves in the photo, I do not know the name of the tree which sheds them. Needless to say, the other leaves are dwarfed by comparison. But as far as the land owning me, it does, because every year I relinquish more land back to its natural state; each year more lawn turns into meadow, and I plan on turning that into woods someday.

Speak Not

Speak not of my debts

unless you mean to pay them.

--Proverb, mid-seventeenth century

Line-up of Suspects

UNDER PENALTY OF LAW

THIS TAG NOT TO BE REMOVED....
The other day I found a tag from the living room sofa on my bedroom floor. Then I discovered a chewed-up wooden spoon on the living room carpet. Whenever something like this happens, I have my six usual suspects. Here they are in a line-up. Sort of.