Mr. Rogers

I remember loving Mr. Rogers when I was really little, 3-5 maybe, then becoming bored with him, then becoming creeped out by him, eventually becoming a feeling of campy revulsion.

But I'm back to loving him, I'm fascinated by the tours of factories that make every day products, I love his soft voice, and it's just so damn nostalgic.

The easy way out

I still haven't really been blogging, just kind of pretending to post while embedding video or photos.
Still, better than nothing, yes?
Sometimes songs or images better describe how I'm feeling, and I can't think of anything to write!
For posterity, I did see Grindhouse, and enjoyed it, mostly due to my superior attention span. Q.T. did much better than Robert Rodriguez, but both films were riotous and fun.
I just finished reading The Bedroom Secrets of the Master Chefs by Irvine Welsh, and Paint it Black by Janet Fitch. They were both good, the latter suitable mainly for the ladies, I think. Not to be sexist, and it's not necessarily chick lit, either. Ah, what do I know? Welsh always writes in a brogue that takes some getting used to, but the story was great, kind of a modern Dorian Gray tale.

80's life

rhythm, tempo...

awwww...

Tomorrow Comes Today

Happy Spring!

I love this lady...

Again, my cat is a badass...

Last night, my husband and I heard some loud terrifying screams of pain, wailing, barking, hissing, and general mayhem coming from the front porch.
My neighbor's have 2 adolescent pit bulls, very sweet puppies, tearing the shit out of their yard, barking at strangers, and obsessing over my cats, normal dog behavior. Now, my cats don't help, preening themselves just out of reach, sauntering slowly by, free to roam past their yard's border. Begging to be chased.
So, I go out on the porch and Baby has the 2 dogs held off at the porch, looking huge, with his tail puffed out, expanded hair and menacing screech. Every time one of the dogs gets close to him, he explodes hundreds of rapid-fire claw-filled slaps down onto the muzzle of the offender, eliciting eerily childlike screams of pain, and backing the dog off.
If those dogs had gotten a hold of him, he would've been toast, but he was doing a damn good job of sticking up for himself.
I intervened, got the dogs attention, made them get back in their yard and closed the gate. To their credit, I didn't even have to touch them to get them to go, they minded well. The cat went 20 feet up a tree, waiting for it to be over.

...wit' yo' bad self

Travesty!!

I thought these fish were going to eat the duck!

Underused Word of the Day

cosmothetic [kahz-moh-thet-ik]- an adjective meaning 'something that assumes there is an external world'. It is used about a theory of perception that posits the existence of an external world but denies that we have any evidence of it or knowledge about it. Perhaps useful for describing such statements such as "I know there are people who put mayonnaise on hot dogs, but I've never met one myself." From Greek words meaning 'world' plus 'positing'.

Ignatius

Today my son is 2. These have been the best 2 years of my life.

Spring is sprung

I had to post some very Spring-y pictures of my adorable family.

The Mindbending Return of the Killah Cat

I finally have something to blog about!


I have 2 cats, one white 13 year old guy named George, and a huge 20 lb tabby called Baby.


Baby loves to kill birds.


He plucks tender Robins from the low nests, encouraging evolution to make the Robins build higher nests.


He kills Blue Jays whilst being dive bombed by the doomed bird's family.


He has presented me with a huge Northern Flicker on my welcome mat.


Once, when stepping out the front door, we almost squished an adult squirrel, dead, but unmarked, as if he didn't know what to do with it.


He used to howl at the door, smushing his kill against the screen door proudly, but has figured out that this doesn't evoke the reaction he wants, and he usually doesn't get let in until the next morning. Now, he brings it to the porch and plays with it, then carries it away to tear it apart.


Our porch always has feathers, streaks of blood, stray organs or a bird's foot, some voodoo magik.


So, Friday night I was shocked to find this:

I almost screamed.

This is a parrot, people.

I will remind you that I do not live in a parrot friendly climate.

My husband had heard mysterious screeching/squawking noises behind our alley somewhere on the previous evening, but couldn't tell what kind of animal it was.

My worst fear was that he would someday kill a cardinal, and that I would hate him forever, but I never imagined he would get a Conure!

I feel really bad because these are smart, fun birds.

They are also expensive.

We've been looking out for any lost posters around the 'hood, but nothing so far...