At the Diner...
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| MamaChuck, Skye and Stubbs at the Diner on a hot late afternoon |
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| Lil Bun having a safe snack along the grassline |
Stubbs having a drink. He's a Tiny Tim whose leg got fixed. Since he's managed to grow back his tail, we felt a new name was in order. C suggested René which translates as "reborn". I'll probably spin it silly into Renetail.
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| It's Stampyfest! There was a fifth, who scampered out of the shot. Looks like another species had a large brood this year although not the kind I would attempt to relocate! |
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| Lord Bertram continuing to be a bully at the Diner although one bird came to the feeder with an attitude of "I ain't 'fraid of no cat" while Skye on the pool railing gave a his Lordship a continual scolding-"Bad show, sir, bad show indeed." Sigh. |
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A most curious event: we were having supper on the deck when we saw Mrs. Mallard land on the pool. She proceeded to flap onto the deck, then onto the ground where she walked around the birch, stopped by the Diner then over by us. Eventually, she flew off. My take on this was she was saying: have you seen that man of mine? We hope nothing tragic has happened to him.
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Fun facts: only about one half of cultures kiss intimately and 10% don't smooch at all.
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We've been watching compilations of Rocky and Bullwinkle, a show both of us enjoyed in our childhoods which was written to appeal to adults as well. It struck me how there were subtle educational moments infused such as word play, puns, rhymes, ridiculous non-endings of episodes and big words not usually found in kiddie shows of the era such as Captain Kangaroo and my most loathed Romper Room. Where else would have used the word "purloined"? I think my Mom, aside from her own enjoyment, figured out that the show inspired a lot of inquiries from little Jeffrey: what does this word mean? who is this person they mentioned? what is the joke here?
Then there was the mysterious narrator of "Fractured Fairy Tales", Edward Everett Horton 1886-1970. Turns out he was a famous actor who had a long career beginning in vaudeville and film, theater, radio, television, and voice work for animated cartoons.
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cutebuddypix:
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| Tucked in for his morning nap. |
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| Mr. Longfellow indeed |
When asked about the recent capture and consumption of a dragonfly, Lord Bertram replied "They're small and they move. Fair game in our world. Besides, sometimes I get a craving for something "snappy". They're like Doritos".
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The hydrangeas are beginning to blush. One wonders if the same species of flowering shrubs flower around the same time, at the same latitude (both North and South) around the world.
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We were watching "Are You There God? It's Me Margaret" which in part documents the trials of young girls and their bodies coming of age: getting breasts and having their first period. I thought back to my youth and for a guy, a body event that came close in terms of embarrassment were the spontaneous erections. When stricken, you walked around with a notebook covering your bulging crotch. Fortunately, the problem was universal in Guydom so at least in this case, you didn't feel like a freak. Another remedy was to wear a jockstrap under your unds to help contain your monster. But this was a Hobson's choice: a jock is pretty snug and a PIA to wear ALL day, much like Margaret's reaction to her first bra. Or you walk around with the notebook but of course, everyone knows.
At the time, the Burger King slogan was "it takes two hands to handle a Whopper". In my sophomore year, I was in art class and one of the rougher freshman was holding court with his buds before class began. He was boasting that he had his "whopper pants" on that day, nice and baggy to accommodate his big boy and was rewarded with a large round of guffaws from the lads.
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Lost pastime: one day C pulled out a cinnamon toothpick and mentioned that during the 70's, she and her younger brother Craig would make flavored toothpicks by rolling them in cinnamon and peppermint oil.
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A mourning dove couple did some Astaire/Rogers moves as they fluttered down on a wire.
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It's time for half of the world's population, women, to start running things. Men have for centuries proven themselves unworthy and continually effed life up with their ego, arrogance, greed and cruelty. Now, because of them, the planet's climate is changing to the point of making life unlivable. It has to go further than Lysistrata-it is taking over government and business. Many will be lost in this revolution but I see no other remedy to our crisis. Otherwise, it's all over for us and a large chunk of other species on the planet.
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A symbol of my depression-era parent's post-war ascension to the middle-class: they could afford to not eat liver and tongue.
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