How did I offend?

We went to the farmer's market over the weekend.  Not as much produce as one might think, but lots of other fun stuff.  It was held at Wheeler's Farm and so we went exploring the animals.

We met a couple of talker Geese.  Zoe was the more vocal of the two.  A gal that cares for the geese introduced us.  I had the misfortune of inquiring as to the hairy duck, "What's his name?" It seemed like an innocent enough question.  "I don't do ducks. Just the Geese," she looks down her nose at me and sniffs.

(See the white patch? It' a tuft of feathers.)

It was all down hill from there.  The cows didn't want to have their picture taken.  I guess Bossy thought the spots made her look fat.

We thought the Blondie goat's ZZ-Top beard was awesome.  He thought he had better features and displayed them for us.

As did his friend a few pens down.

Definite pattern here I think. Everybody was turning their back to me. 

They had pigs,  I hollered "Hey Porky" to get the pig to look up and I swear you could hear her say, "Pot and kettle my dear, pot and kettle."

I liked the 'dreaded' goat.  You can't tell from the picture but this poor guy's wool was just a bunch of mats, but then maybe he liked it that way.  He at least allowed us a front end view.

And they had chickens, though I think this guy is a rooster 'cause he has the red comb thing.  What do I know, I'm a city girl. 

All in all it was a very fun day. 

It was a busy weekend.

You might be a non-theist if....

On a Saturday morning when you could be sleeping in, you drive to the west side of the valley and have your picture taken under this billboard.

The tall fuzzy one in the back with the arrow pointing to him is Doug.  It is not me.  While I have sprouted a facial hair or two, my hormones are still feminine enough that I don't sport a full beard.  Plus the whole height thing.  I'd be one of the ladies on the front row. :)

I will do another post for how I spent part of my weekend.  I have lots and lots of pictures and need to wade through them. 

Some days are better than others.

It's true for the cats and it's true for people.

Fluffy has moments where he can't resist the urge to charge after another kitty's food.  That is when I have to be quick.  I can't physically keep him from charging, but I can keep him from getting the prize.  We've had a couple of days like that around here this week.  Just when you think there is no hope for that cat he suddenly plays by the rules.  >.> Today was a good day for him.

I have someone in my life who is much the same, we'll call her Cybil, everyday is grump, grump, grump.  For her life is not good. You can hear it in her plaintive meow:  I use to be someone and now because my self esteem sucks I feel less than someone and  I am unhappy. And if I'm unhappy by all the gods everyone in my proximity will hear my whine and be unhappy too.

I'm in the process of socializing Fluffy and have little patience for trying to socialize Cybil too. She has to learn to be happy all by herself.  I can't make her happy, gods know in the past I've tried.  I'm done.

All I can say is:  I'm sorry life sucks, I'm sorry you made wrong choices, and continue to make wrong choices. If it wasn't what you wanted the first go around, what makes you think it is what you want this time?  Just say'n.  Be happy you have a job.  I'm sorry that at times you actually have to work, I realize that this is a hardship for you...but we all have to work from time to time.  If you'd retract your claws, temper you plaintive meows and perhaps cease from growling altogether, you'd find that there are people who would scratch your ears.  Right now the fear of being bitten is too strong to even attempt stretching forth a hand because quite frankly, I don't know if you've had your shots.

Oops, this turned into a rant.  I should delete but I'm keeping it.  It felt good to say what we've all been thinking. 

Sorry 'bout the cats Julie.  Next post I promise no felines.

Socializing Kitty

I have a couple of porch kitties that I feed.  They had people at one point in time, but for one reason or another the people didn't take Kitty with them when they moved out. 

Our latest I named Fluffy.  He was fluffy but over the winter his beautiful coat got matted and clumped.  Eventually the mat's gave way and left him basically a short hair cat.  I should have changed his name to Scruffy, but I didn't.  He did, however, come to be known as Fluffy Bastard 'cause he's just so damn mean.  He's been part of our lives for quite a while now and he just could not find it in his heart to join the herd.  He'd rather be a sulky little bastard making every one's life miserable.  "I'm sorry your people dumped you. I'm sorry you went from being an obvious inside cat to an outdoor cat.  Dude, if you were friendly I'd find a home for you. But you are a mean, sulky bastard."

I would feed Nadja and Tiger and wait until they were through so Fluffy wouldn't chase them off and eat it all himself. One morning while Nadja was eating, Fluffy and I had a heart to heart about mean kitties and how they don't get wet food.  He looked at me, sat down, wrapped his tail around his paws and waited. No aggressive action from him at all.  He waited patiently.  Fluffy got wet food.

Since then I've been able to feed them at the same time. While Fluffy looks longingly at Nadja who is still eating, he doesn't chase her off.  Last week we started trying to pet Fluffy.  Just a little scratch on the ears as he's bolting his food.  Just enough to let him get used to human touch. Seems wet food will get this cat to do about anything.  Bet he used to eat Fancy Feast from a cut-glass cat bowl.

Yesterday was the true test.  Tiger was at the door for breakfast, during the summer he spends a lot of time in the fields but occasionally shows up for something if the hunting was bad.  When I opened the door with his little bowl of food in hand, there was Fluffy too.  Both on my little porch and both arched, but neither one willing to start the fight. They both know what fighting means.
It was the funniest sight.  Fluffy apparently still has long hair down his spine because it was standing on end. I had a Mohawk kitty.

I hurried back for a second bowl and when I open the door and Fluffy has conceded the porch to Tiger and was waiting patiently on the grass. Both kitties got their food.  I scratched Tiger's ears. He  loves to be petted.  Fluffy just watched. I swear that you can hear that cat think.  When I left for work Fluffy was under the picnic table and so I sat down and put my hand out.  Fluffy got his ears scratched and then his shoulders and he really seemed to enjoy it.

That evening when I came home from work Nadja greeted me.  She and I always have a conversation about her day. She's a talker kitty, and will tell you all about it.  Fluffy was waiting in the flower bed and so I bent down and scratched his ears and asked him about his day.  He gave a plaintive meow.  It seems he's still a bit sulky, but at least he's not being mean.

                                                                     Fluffy

                                Tiger                                                                     Nadja

Big Fake Smile

A friend told me that was the best way to deal with the dreaded reunion. 
It seems to have worked.

That's me nestled 'twixt my two big brothers.  I know a picture of me, who'da thunk it.  But it shows the big fake smile. ;)  Scotty looks less than pleased to be clung to by my sister and Grant looks demonic. He's not, trust me. I was just pleased to have only one chin. 

Why my camera went to brown tones no one will ever know. 
I didn't even know it could do that.  Learn something new every day.

**I can neither confirm nor deny that the word psycho ever appeared in this posting**

HOA and Turtles

Someone after my own heart...

I realize that an HOA serves a useful purpose, theoretically.  However, the HOA where I reside turns a blind eye to some and targets others.  For those of us with a bulls-eye on our front door, all I can say is that it sucks to not be of the predominant religion, or any religion for that matter.  Maybe that's  not the criteria, but ...

Chester and I go past one yard frequently and the corner of the grass got totally torn up over the winter.  The car that kept driving across the corner might have had something to do with it. Ya think?  I remember looking at the mess wondering what the HOA would make of it. 

I am now relatively certain the owner got a letter from the HOA saying something to the effect that the corner MUST be dealt with, article 3 of the 123rd revision clearly states that thou shalt not have a muddy patch where grass once resided... please send us $25.00 for the infraction and fix it within 10 days or we'll send someone to fix it at your cost.

Fix it they did.  They plamted a few bushes, some flowers... made a nice corner.  The picture I took does not do it justice.  I'm posting it anyway 'cause I love these people.  They FIXED the problem and then let the rest of the grassy area go wild.  I just laughed and laughed and laughed.  It was a big middle finger to the HOA.  Corner is fixed!!

Of course now the HOA will send out a notice that they need to mow... please send us $50.00 or .... but in the mean time, I find it very funny.

Turtles

I mentioned over on Julie's blog the other day that we have a herd of turtle.  We didn't intentionally start collecting turtles, it just sort of happened.    What I love best about them is how they move around. In the morning they might look like this:



And by the time I get home from work, they are doing this:

You just never know what the turtles will be doing next.

Why, yes... I am easily amused, why do you ask?

= )



Need vs Like

One word makes all the difference.

Last night I stopped by the market to pick up a couple of items.  On the way to the car I saw an old man hanging on to the edge of his truck.  In the bed was a walker. I said hi and was going to pass on by. 

With my dad I had to learn the precarious balance between knowing when to help and knowing when to let him struggle.  I'd get the sharp edge of his tongue if I messed up and it tends to make one want to err in the side of caution.

But passing him by just didn't seem the right thing to do. 
So I asked, "Would you like help?"
He looked at me, looked at the ground and said, "Well, I suppose I wouldn't mind some." 
He chuckled when I told him my dad called his walker a Cadillac. 

Had it been my father and I had asked do you NEED help.  He'da told me in no uncertain terms he did not NEED help.  He'd LIKE your help, but he didn't NEED it.

Guess my dad taught me something after all.
Thanks Dad.
= )

How do people do it?

I am a morning person.  I set an alarm but have only used it a couple of times.  Even then, it is just really low music so that I eventually hear it and gently wake up. 

This weekend for whatever reason, I was on sleep mode.  Slept until 5:30 am on Saturday morning and who knows how long I would have slept on Sunday morning... I was awakened by my phone.  My ring tone is not a beep, or cricket chirp, or some song I like.  Nope.  It is a recording of Lani Diane Rich saying, 'No. No. No. Dear gods, NO!'  It generally makes me and anyone who hears it laugh.  But I wasn't laughing Sunday, not at 4:45 in the morning when I'm deep in sleep.

I have a new respect for night people.  Being jarred out of sleep that way is inhumane.  I could not function for hours after.  People do this kind of wake up every day of their lives.  I am so glad I'm a morning person.  I hope to never be woken up like that again.

One day I left my phone at work and asked a co-worker to just put it in one of my drawers for me.  Oh how I wished I knew when the cleaning people came in.  Can you imagine how quickly they'd clear out of the place if they were cleaning and heard a muffled, "No. No. No. Dear gods, NO!"
Yes, I am evil.


Lord of the Ocean has returned.
I had photos, but they were either blurry or dark.  But trust me he is home.

Oh my...

When Chester and I walk, I usually leave it up to him to decide where his nose will take us that day. Quite often we go past the house in the picture. The lower bushes in the picture I call the teeth.  At one point these people had so whacked the poor bushes that they looked like little wooden teeth to me.  Chester loves to pee on the teeth. 

Yesterday as we were wandering home I looked up and gasped, "Oh dear...." 

There where a beautiful green bush used to be was a block of foliage.  "It grows back," was all I could think to say to the larger bush.  I get that some people prefer a trim bush and we should be thankful that they knew to STOP and didn't go all Brazilian on the thing. (Like they did when they created the teeth.)   I just don't see anything wrong with letting a bush be a bush.  If you wanted a square, buy a box.