Gobble, gobble, GOBBLE!!

A portion of the flock that was strutting through the back yard a few minutes ago. They startled when I opened the upstairs window to get this shot.

What a load of horse manure!

As the result of half a dozen complaints over the past few years, the village of Adams Center (population 1,500) has
enacted a law which prohibits horses on the north side of the village and in trailer parks. And if a horse dies or is sold, the owner cannot replace it.

Wow. Six complaints over three years .. that's two complaints per year. Clearly, that's a HUUUUUUUUUGE issue. Well done, Town of Adams!

/sarcasm

Happy Birthday, Karen!

Karen, who blogs at The Sour Patch Kid Experiment, turns 24 today. Many happy returns to her!

Kafka himself could not have scripted it better

I have been following, with great interest, the Washington Post's articles about the abysmal conditions under which wounded soldiers languish in medical hold at Walter Reed. Dana Priest and Anne Hull described the physical neglect and bureacratic indifference experienced at Building 18, which is located across the street from Walter Reed. I have not seen the inside of that building, so I cannot speak to the stories about its infrastructure. However, the authors' depiction of the bureaucracy of Walter Reed - ie indifferent, callous, inefficient, and just plain mean - rings absolutely true.

Well, those articles certainly lit a fire under the collective posteriors of the powers that be. There will be no more languishing in rat-infested, moldy, crumbling Building 18. Those fine warriors will be moved to Building 14, which is conveniently located on the Walter Reed campus. They have been given strict orders not to speak to the media - not that those pesky reporters could gain access to the secure military installation, anyway. And these warriors will get to relive the glory days of basic training, by virtue of the edict that has them out of bed no later than 0600, ready for room inspections by 0700. The soldier sitting next to me confirms that this wouldn't happen in the toughest of infantry batallions with the healthiest of soldiers.

There's a special place in hell for the Perfumed Princes who made this happen. And it looks exactly like Building 18.

Any way the wind blows, doesn't really matter ...

Great things are in the works at Clarkson University in Potsdam, NY.

Amongst them:

Small-scale wind turbines for point-of-use electrical applications; and

Conversion of used vegetable oil from the kitchens of the Akwesasne Mohawk Casino into bio-diesel, which will then be used to fuel garbage trucks on the St. Regis Mohawk Reservation.

Sigh .. I have this recurring pipe dream that these kinds of progressive thinking can be utilized on Fort Drum. I like to fantasize that, instead of navigating congested roads and parking lots which plague the post (especially in the winter months), soldiers could take bio-diesel fueled buses to their duty stations.

I know, I know .. it's just fodder for my commitment hearing.

Coming soon to irritate and annoy me

Looks like a new "retail and entertainment center" is in the works for our little neck of the woods.

According to Newzjunky, the proposed development may include a "hotel, car dealership, gas station, restaurants, 12-screen movie theater, bowling alley, and storage units."

With the continued expansion of Fort Drum, I suppose this was inevitable. But .. blech!*


The view from my office window, soon to be filled in with hustle, bustle, traffic, and trash from annoying people who cannot seem to find the garbage cans after they leave the theatre.



*Unless, of course, they're putting a Tim Horton's in this development. Then I'm all in favour of it!

What winter is all about

Ready ..


Set ..


Go!!!!!!

Our little town

As seen from Thompson Park Hill at about 09:30 this morning.

Fog in winter

Sublimation: the transition of a substance from its solid to its gaseous form, bypassing the liquid phase.

I love days like these!

It's the little differences ...

Until about five minutes ago, I had no idea that pancakes were not a part of the traditional Fat Tuesday celebration in the United States. Apparently, Shrove Tuesday is only observed in Canada, the UK, Ireland and Australia.

No wonder my husband still looks at me kinda funny when I serve pancakes, sausages, and bacon for dinner on the last Tuesday before Lent.

Gobble gobble

Turkey in my back yard.

In a mad, mad world, how do you know when you've gone mad?

I know there are millions of more important things going on, but I must say that I am very very worried about Ms. Britney Spears.

I've never been a fan, and I don't particularly care for her music. Nevertheless, I feel sorry for the woman.

It has been blatantly obvious, for the past few months, that Ms. Spears has some serious problems. I truly believe that she is in the throes of postpartum psychosis.

All of the partying = self medicating.

The inappropriate attire or lack thereof = clear signs of delusional behaviour.

Last night's spectacular meltdown = the last we'll see of her for a while, I hope.

I truly hope that Ms. Spears has been taken to a safe environment, where she can receive competent psychiatric care.

And truly I hope that all of the jackals - the photographers, the tabloids, the so-called serious media, and the bastards who are hawking her shorn locks on ebay are feeling really proud of themselves right now.

Get well soon, Britney.

Incarceration Nation

Un.
Fricking.
Believable.

A 9 year old boy, a Canadian citizen, is being
detained in an "immigration detention center" in Texas.

The story is quite convoluted. The boy was born in Toronto. His parents fled Iran in 1995, and tried for 10 years to gain asylum in Canada. In 2005, they were deported back to Iran. The parents were allegedly imprisoned and abused again, but the family managed to flee to Turkey, where they obtained fake passports. They made their way to Guyana, and were on a direct flight from there to Toronto when the plane was diverted to Puerto Rico because of another passenger's mid-flight heart attack. They have been detained in T. Don Hutto Family Detention Center in Taylor, Texas.

This family was not attempting to enter the United States.

This has nothing to do with the United States.

This needs to be resolved at once.

Pavlov's cats

Whenever I open a tin of anything, the cats come running to the kitchen.

Tonight, it was button mushrooms.

They got their Valentine's Day treat of tuna, anyway.

They have me well trained, don't they?

Camera shy

I haven't seen Reddy Freddy for a few days, but his lady friend has been taking shelter under the mighty boughs of the spruce tree. She's been difficult to photograph, as she had been sticking to the shadows. I think she's getting a little more comfortable, and she's venturing further afield.

I haven't named her yet. Any suggestions?

It's all fun and games until there's a meningitis outbreak

Last century, when I was a Public Health Nurse, I worked on the Healthy Sexuality team. One of the challenges we faced was how to make teenagers understand their personal risk factors for acquiring a Sexually Transmitted Disease, without becoming too technical, preachy, or boring. We came up with some innovative lesson plans, but none as "interesting" as the gum game which has been used for the past nine years in Montgomery County, Maryland.

Until last month, the Rockville Pregnancy Center taught 90-minute classes on abstinence and STDs to high school health classes. Part of their schtick was to invite students to take turns chewing the same piece of gum.

Yeah. Ewwwwwwwwwwww.

Absurdly, the Washington Post article linked above quotes health officials as saying that sharing gum poses a low risk of transmitting germs, "on par with drinking from the same cup."

Again, ewwwwwwwwww.

Gail Tierney, the executive director of the Rockville Pregnancy Center, did protesteth that:

We saw 6,500 kids last year. Who's going to talk to them now?

Might I suggest someone with a superficial understanding of how meningitis is spread?

One martini, and she thinks she's an artist or something

All I can say is,

Thank God we installed a Reverse Osmosis system for our well water.

Fuel spill at Fort Drum shuts down their freshwater wells.

The quote that scares the shit out of me:

Fort Drum officials said they didn't know the full extent of the leak--it could be a couple thousand gallons of fuel or hundreds of thousands of gallons.

Nobody knows exactly where the spill has moved because the earth below is sand, which lets fuel move through it.

Excuse me whilst I choke on my tea here. Has it occured to the powers that be on Fort Drum that other freshwater wells which draw upon the same aquifer might be affected?

Snow day

Closed for the season.


Chickadee in the thicket.


Fresh tracks.


Hurry up, Mom!

Today's outlook: definitely an Ego Booster

One of my pictures is Today's Photo on the North Country Public Radio website. Thanks, David! I'm truly honored and flattered.

Tie me kangaroo down, sport.

Well, it was actually a wallaby,bouncing around Fontana, California.

Imagine being the police dispatcher who took that call.

Good chilly morning!

A few pictures, taken at 0715 this morning. BunBun was checking out the dental floss that I had used to make a Cheerios garland for our little menagerie.

Weekend Recap

Before my Grade 12 math teacher, Mr. Larmer, distributed the weekly tests, he would specify whether it would be an "ego booster" or a "character builder."

This past weekend was definitely a character builder.

On Thursday, my husband flew to Washington DC for an appointment at Walter Reed Army Medical Center. Without getting into too much detail, Friday morning was difficult. The working diagnosis was discarded, and a new (and in our view, questionable) label was proposed.

Saturday was our 12th anniversary. Steve's plane was to have landed in Watertown at 17:30. We had a table reserved at Sboro's for 18:30. The flight was delayed, but I was able to push our reservation by an hour. Then Steve got bumped from his flight, and had to spend the night in Pittsburgh. I cried a little, and then had the last glass of wine remaining in the house.

On Sunday, Steve's plane took off on schedule. Unfortunately, it could not land in Watertown due to a raging blizzard, so he ended up in Ogdensburg, which is about an hour away. I set out to get him, but I quickly determined that it was absolutely unsafe to drive anywhere. Local law enforcement concurred with my judgement, and issued a travel ban moments after I told Steve that I couldn't go to get him. So, he spent the night at a hotel overlooking the frozen St. Lawrence River while I undertook the Sisyphean task of clearing the driveway from the 2+ feet of snow that fell. I come from good, strong, Northern Ontario stock, so I was up for the challenge. But boy howdy, did I hurt after 4 hours of shovelling yesterday. And - here's the clincher - I had no martini fixings to soften the blow.

Finally, finally, the band of lake effect snow decided to inflict its brand of fluffy white winter cheer on the hardy folks to the south of us, and I was able to drive to Ogdensburg this morning. The husband is home. The driveway is completely cleared. We enjoyed a lovely late anniversary dinner of roasted lamb.

And I finally had my pomegranate martini!!!

Here are some stormy pictures to enjoy.


Whiteout!


Chickadee pecks at the snowless side of the seed bar.


Sparrow finds a few sunflower seeds.


Reddy Freddy finds a smackerel to eat.


The cats enjoy some cheep entertainment.

Shelter from the storm

Mourning doves find sanctuary under the boughs of the spruce tree.

Let the countdown begin!

I know what I'll be reading on July 21st!!

My new obsession

I call him Reddy Freddy.

Wise investors might want to buy stock in the companies which make blackstripe sunflower seeds.

Squeeeeeeee!!!!

We've attracted a male Northern Cardinal to our feeding station! Forgive the blurriness of the shot, as it was taken through two panes of glass.

There's a metaphor in there, somewhere

Hot off the wires:

Eagle Lugging a Deer Head Causes Outage

JUNEAU, Alaska (AP) -- About 10,000 Juneau residents briefly lost power after a bald eagle lugging a deer head crashed into transmission lines.

''You have to live in Alaska to have this kind of outage scenario,'' said Gayle Wood, an Alaska Electric Light & Power spokeswoman. ''This is the story of the overly ambitious eagle who evidently found a deer head in the landfill.''

The bird, weighed down by the deer head, apparently failed to clear the transmission lines, she said. A repair crew found the eagle dead, the deer head nearby.

The power was out for less than 45 minutes Sunday.

This annoyed me at first, but I did a few sun salutations and I'm feeling better now

Tara Guber created a yoga curriculum for elementary schools. Some schools love it, and report fewer discipline and behaviour problems. I can attest to this. When we begin our (rather loosely structured) homeschooling days with a few yoga poses, we achieve more.

Critics (read: bible thumpers) have their knickers in a knot, insisting that the Hindu origins of yoga will lead children astray and encourage them to explore mysticism and Eastern religions.

Because Jesus would rather that kids be doped up medicated with Ritalin than spending a few minutes in the lotus position, right?

/sarcasm

Take time to smell the flowers

w00t!!

The Rideau Canal Skateway in Ottawa is open!

Come hell or high water, I *will* skate on the canal this year!

Happy Robbie Burns Day!

I can't understand a word of his verse, and neither haggis nor scotch will be consumed here tonight. But Happy Robbie Burns Day, anyway.

Enjoy this midi of My Love's A Red, Red Rose.

This is why winter cottages need chamber pots, kiddies

So, this guy from Toronto goes to his friend's cottage in Muskoka and engages in the grand old cottage country tradition of getting plastered.

In the wee hours of the morning, he went out to .. umm .. write his name in the snow.

Then, he tried to get back into the cottage, but ended up knocking on the wrong door. No-one was home at the neighbouring cottage, so the fella tried to enter through the chimney. Unsurprisingly, the fella got stuck.

It's a minor miracle that the man didn't freeze to death in the five hours it took before anyone heard his muffled cries for help.

No charges will be laid, as there was no criminal intent.

I think the guy probably learned his lesson, anyway.

I learned a new phrase today:

Cosmetic Endocrinology. (LA Times story, registration may be required.)

In 2003, the FDA approved the use of Human Growth Hormone to treat children with idiopathic short stature. That's shortness that is not caused by a known disease process. Girls whose projected height is less than 4'11", and boys expected to be 5'3" or less, are eligible for this brave new treatment. Over the course of several years, daily injections of growth hormones are administered. If successful - and it isn't always successful - children may gain a couple of extra inches.

Bear with me as all 4 feet and 11 inches of me shakes with rage.

Ellen Frankel points out:

But being short isn’t the problem. The real difficulties lie in the social bias against short people. Are we willing to treat the victim of a social prejudice with medical technology that supports and reinforces that prejudice? Are we willing to take a healthy child and turn him or her into a patient in need of treatment? We live in a culture that is obsessed with being tall and thin and now the pharmaceutical companies have jumped on the bias against short people. They calculated that they have a built in population to treat that could boost profits significantly, because there will always be those who fall into the lower height percentiles on a bell shaped curve.

How interesting. The "stunting" of a severely mentally handicapped child's growth evoked a media firestorm, but the expensive, medically unnecessary attempts to make otherwise healthy children a couple of inches taller is condoned.

Cosmetic endocrinology: a fancy term for a grotesque practice.

Comfort the afflicted, afflict the comfortable

Poor Karl Kemp. He owns an antique shop on the Upper East Side of Manhattan, but he fears that he is losing potential customers. The reason? A homeless man has set up camp on the sidewalk grate in front of his store.

Mr. Kemp has called the police, but those pesky police claim that this vagrant actually has the right to be where he wants to be.

So, Mr. Kemp is suing the unnamed homeless man, along with three other persons, for one million dollars.

Imagine the audacity of these people! How dare they be poor? How dare they be cold? How dare they be mentally ill? How dare they fall through the cracks? How dare they remind Mr. Kemp's potential customers that there could be better ways to spend $26,000 than to purchase a 19th-century mahogany Empire bench from Vienna with lion-head details and cream-colored upholstery?

Shame on you, Mr. Kemp.

Winter beauty

Jack Frost visited, and left only beauty in his wake.




The field across the road, just after this morning's sunrise.




A slight glaze on the spruce tree.



View of same spruce tree, through an ice-covered window.

Happy Birthday, Dr. King

Nearly forty years ago, and one year to the day before his death, Dr. Martin Luther King delivered a speech to a meeting of Clergy and Laity Concerned at Riverside Church in New York City.

These powerful words have resonance and relevance today.

Some excerpts:

"Somehow this madness must cease. We must stop now. I speak as a child of God and brother to the suffering poor of Vietnam. I speak for those whose land is being laid waste, whose homes are being destroyed, whose culture is being subverted. I speak for the poor of America who are paying the double price of smashed hopes at home and death and corruption in Vietnam. I speak as a citizen of the world, for the world as it stands aghast at the path we have taken. I speak as an American to the leaders of my own nation. The great initiative in this war is ours. The initiative to stop it must be ours."

"If we continue, there will be no doubt in my mind and in the mind of the world that we have no honorable intentions in Vietnam. It will become clear that our minimal expectation is to occupy it as an American colony and men will not refrain from thinking that our maximum hope is to goad China into a war so that we may bomb her nuclear installations. If we do not stop our war against the people of Vietnam immediately the world will be left with no other alternative than to see this as some horribly clumsy and deadly game we have decided to play."

"The world now demands a maturity of America that we may not be able to achieve. It demands that we admit that we have been wrong from the beginning of our adventure in Vietnam, that we have been detrimental to the life of the Vietnamese people. The situation is one in which we must be ready to turn sharply from our present ways."

And finally, and perhaps most importantly:

"We can no longer afford to worship the god of hate or bow before the altar of retaliation."

Amen, and thank you, Dr. King.

Everyone is offering their two cents, so here are mine.

I have been following, with great fascination, the debate surrounding "The Ashley Treatment."

Ashley is a beautiful little girl. She is the same age as my son. That is where the similarities end. As explained on her parents' blog, Ashley has static encephalopathy. For reasons unknown, her brain has not developed past the mental age of 3 months. She cannot talk, walk, move purposefully, feed herself, or even hold her head up. She is completely dependent upon her loving parents for every aspect of her care.

Ashley's body, however, has developed. In fact, she started displaying signs of precocious puberty at the age of six. Ashley's mother wondered if puberty could and/or should be accelerated in order to minimize her final height and weight. After careful consideration and extensive vetting with the Bioethics Committee of Seattle Children's Hospital, a course of high-dose estrogen therapy was pursued. Ashley's uterus, appendix, and breast buds were also removed. The reason for this surgery, which makes perfect sense to me, is explained in detail on the parents' blog. Ashley's final height is 4'5", as opposed to the 5'6" that she probably would have attained.

After "The Ashley Treatment" was described in medical journals, a media storm erupted. Inevitably, there has been a backlash from many communities, including disability activists and feminists.

What strikes me about the hue and cry emanating from the critics, is that the focus is on Ashley's "stunted growth." Abuse is hurled at Ashley's parents, accusing them of putting their own "convenience" ahead of Ashley's potential and of her "human dignity."

Well, I'm only 6 inches taller than Ashley, and I'm here to tell you that there is nothing wrong with being a person of small stature. There is nothing undignified about being petite. I would go so far as to argue that Ashley's dignity will be preserved, because this "growth attenuation treatment" will enable Ashley to remain in her home, with a family who clearly loves and cherishes her.

Ashley's parents are clearly intelligent, loving people, who embarked upon this course of action with their child's best interests in mind. They are to be commended, not cursed. And the rest of us should thank our maker that we have not walked in their shoes.

Darn! I missed it!

It is Sir John A. MacDonald Day on the other side of the St. Lawrence River today, in celebration of the birthday of Canada's first Prime Minister. In Kingston, there was to have been a small gathering at the Sir John A. statue in City Park, at which historically-minded bonvivants planned to sing Oh Canada and God Save the Queen, and covertly sip whiskey and sherry.

Who says that history has to be boring?

Dream interpretation, anyone?

We usually keep the radio in our bedroom on all night, tuned to CBC Overnight. Last night, much of the world's attention was turned to Bush's impending address to the nation about Iraq, and the anticipation of a troop surge.

These news stories wove themselves into my REM patterns, and I dreamt that I was on a bus with the POTUS. He looked gray, week, and feeble. He was attempting to speak to us, but was shouted down. He was attempting to put his signature on some document, but he was using a pencil. His writing was gray, week, and feeble. I felt strong and powerful as I told him what I thought of his Presidential legacy.

I wonder what it could mean?

/sarcasm

Un. Frikking. Believable.

This is inexcusable.

The U.S. army said Friday it would apologize to the families of about 275 officers killed or wounded in action who were mistakenly sent letters urging them to return to active duty.

The letters were sent a few days after Christmas to more than 5,100 army officers who had recently left the service. Included were letters to about 75 officers killed in action and about 200 wounded in action.

There are no words ...

Three lives taken, just nine years in jail (maybe)

Last week, I blogged about the criminal act perpetrated upon the St. Denise family of Pickering, Ontario. As you will recall, this family was on their way to Florida when a drunk in a pickup, driving the wrong way on I-99, killed Roger St. Denise, Paul St. Denise, and Angela St. Denise.

Jeremy Grimes, aged 23, was the driver of that pickup truck. His BAC was 0.21, which is more than twice the legal limit. In June 2005, he was charged with DUI and was placed in a probationary program for first time offenders.**

He has been charged with three counts of vehicular homicide while driving under the influence, which is a second degree felony. If convicted, he faces a mandatory miniumum sentence of three years for each count.

Nine years for killing three people? That's just not enough.

Last October, Martin Heidgen was convicted of depraved indifference second degree murder after a similar incident - driving the wrong way on the Long Island Expressway while drunk. He smashed into a limosine, which carried a family on the way home from a 4th of July wedding. The driver of the limosine, Stanley Rabinowitz, and the 7 year old flower girl, Katie Flynn, were killed. As I understand it, there is controversy and contention about several aspects of this convinction, including the position that the condition of "depraved indifference" does not apply when the defendent committed one's crime(s) in a state of inebriation. I beg to differ. When that first sip of that first drink is taken, while the car keys are still in one's pocket, one is, by definition, demonstrating depraved indifference.

In my view, anyone who consumes alcohol, in any amount, with the intent to drive afterwards, shows depraved indifference towards their fellow man. There is absolutely no excuse for this. Rot in hell, Jeremy.



**cough~bullshit~cough~translation:first time they got caught~cough**

Oh, fer Chri -ssssssssssss - sake!

Do I even need to write in complete sentences?

Burmese Python + Florida + Taser.

Albino Python + Florida + Left in closet. Well, credit where credit is due - at least this one wasn't dumped in the Everglades.

Burmese Pythons belong in Burma.

Could you be this forgiving?

A few days ago, a family from Pickering, Ontario, was literally torn apart by a drunk driver.

The St-Denis family had embarked upon a long-awaited and well deserved trip to Florida. They made it as far as Bedford, Pennsylvania, but a drunk in a truck, travelling the wrong way on the interstate, plowed into their minivan. Three members of the family were killed. Only the mother and one adult daughter survived.

Angela St-Denis has forgiven the man who killed her husband and two of her children. She said:

He's a human being. He made a mistake. All I want now is that he never get behind the wheel of a car again.

I wish I could be as noble as Mrs. St-Denis. I would want the driver to be imprisoned for life, with the picture of the family he killed tattooed on his forehead. As far as I'm concerned, he is a murderer.

According for the Centers for Disease Control, 16,885 people in the U.S. died in alcohol-related motor vehicle crashes in 2005. That's almost 6 times as many victims as the 9/11 attacks. There is absolutely no excuse for drinking and driving. Stay home, take a cab, or abstain from alcohol. Why can't people grasp this simple idea? Why isn't there a "war" on drunk drivers? What will it take to end the carnage?

This is wrong on so many levels but I think I like it anyway

Look at this tenacious little dandelion, popping out to say Merry Christmas, Jefferson County!



It wasn't a white Christmas. It was a green and yellow Christmas. I can't say that I minded, really. After the presents were opened, I enjoyed a brisk and refreshing walk with my four-legged personal trainer.



Then I hung a load of laundry outside.



And watched the chickadees as they gathered a few more sunflower seeds for their winter stash.

Soon, there will be snow. Lots and lots of it, I'm sure.

But perhaps this White Christmas business is just a little overrated.

Zoiks!!!

Fortunately, the chasmosaurus was a herbivore.




Canadian Museum of Nature, Ottawa

I want to talk about this, but I don't know what to say

On December 27th, at 9 pm ET/PT, PBS will air a Prime-Time Muppets Special entitled, When Parents Are Deployed. It's aimed at the under-five set - a half-million of whom are waiting for a parent to return from an overseas deployment. That's the largest number since WWII. For many of these little children, particularly those whose parent(s) are Active Duty soldiers on their 2nd or 3rd or 4th tour of Iraq/Afghanistan, this is the only life they've ever known.

My friend M, who teaches at a primary school in this military community, tells me that they are seeing a "difference" in this year's kindergarten cohort. These are the kids who were born in 2001. Their lives are defined by OIF/OEF, by the relentless operation tempo that these deployments demand, by departures and arrivals, and by oceans of tears in between.

Again?!?!?!?!?!?!?

A 48 year old Cincinatti man was strangled by his 4 metre long, pet boa constrictor.

I respect snakes. Around here, there are only garter snakes. My son and I have spent a great deal of time observing these elusive inhabitants of our "back forty." They're actually very pretty, harmless except in self-defense, and incredibly important to the ecosystem. But we don't touch them, and we would never consider taking one out of its habitat and placing it in a glass prison inside our home.

I cannot understand the mentality of someone who would "adopt" a snake, particularly a constrictor. Little Ray's Reptile Zoo in Ottawa is filled to capacity with rescued reptiles - the poor unfortunate creatures who were "adopted" and then abandoned when the reality of owning a large, dangerous animal set in. The delicately balanced ecosystem of the Everglades is being thrown into disarray as a result of a thriving population of Burmese Pythons. No, Burmese Pythons are not native to Florida, but a significant number of former "pets" have been released into the swamp. Having no natural predators in that ecosystem, the population has begun to breed in the wild, and threatens many other species.

Seriously, what is wrong with people?

Whither Zebastian?

Zebastian the Zebra is missing.

No ordinary zebra, Zebastian is brown with black stripes. He disappeared from his pasture in Carrot Creek, Alberta, last week.

The story is strange enough on its own merits, but I have my own special, six degrees of separation spin on it.

I actually know someone who lives in the tiny hamlet of Carrot Creek. A few months ago, an old friend contacted me through Classmates.com. Di-Anne has always lived the life of a gypsy, and at this point on her journey, she finds herself in .. wait for it .. Carrot Creek, AB.

It's a small world after all .. but not so small that one cannot lose a zebra in it.

Look good in a bikini, save the planet?

A Norwegian businessman wants your love handles.

I can't paraphrase this, so I'll just cut and paste and credit the afore-linked article.

Lauri Venøy wants to use the product created from liposuction to develop bio-diesel.

Bio-diesel can be produced from plant oils and/or animal fat, and the Norwegian sees the scheme as a renewable energy source, newspaper Dagens Nærinsgliv reports.

More than sixty percent of Americans are overweight and the Norwegian's firm in Miami, Florida is in the process of signing an agreement with US hospital giant Jackson Memorial. This deal would give Venøy & Co. around 11,500 liters of human fat a week from liposuction operations, which is enough to produce about 10,000 liters of bio-diesel.

Winter emergency preparations are now complete

Power to the people! After six long years of begging petitioning Nestle to make Coffee Crisp available to the people of the United States of America, the folks at CoffeeCrisp.org have achieved success! Coffee Crisp bars are now available at Dollar Tree Stores AND from the vending machine at my husband's office AND from the vending machine at the F.X. Caprara Volkswagen Dealership on Outer Washington Street, Watertown.

AND - Jeff Dem will be pleased to learn that Coffee Crisp bars contain no trans fats.

Manhattan: Same state, different planet

I am bemused to note that the two most popular e-mailed stories from today's New York Times hail from the Fashion & Style section. I had read both pieces earlier today, and have been mentally composing blog entries about them all day. In regards to the first article, Woman's Best Friend, or Fashion Accessory? I must ask, what would Cesar Millan say about these toy dogs who are toted around Manhattan in designer purses, dressed in the same haute couture as their humans? Evidently, Cesar's opinion was not solicited, but other trainers "point out that pets are not accessories, and treating them like prize possessions, no matter how well meaning, can deprive an animal of what it needs. 'Socialization, training and exercise are paramount,' said Bash Dibra, a trainer based in New York. 'Otherwise you have a problem.' An overly coddled dog can become territorial and aggressive, Mr. Dibra said. 'Sometimes the dog goes into a rage. It’s not a happy situation.' ”

The second article is about fashion victims - literally! It seems that Manhattan's doctors, chiropractors and massage therapists are working overtime, dealing with back and shoulder injuries caused by the ubiquitous oversized handbags that the fashionistas insist upon toting. While chiropractic adjustments and deep tissue massage seems to temporarily alleviate the pain, the brain damage caused by these gaudy and overpriced satchels appears to be permanent. One massage therapist says that she doesn't bother to advise her clients to stop trying to tote the kitchen sink all over TriBeCa. “It’s like telling a woman, ‘You cannot wear Manolo Blahniks,’ ” she said. “It’s just not realistic.”

Huh? The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting a different result. One woman even boasts that she has had MRI's and cortisone shots to offset the physical damage caused by her oversized Chanel Tote.

I apologize for the clunkiness of this post. I'm having difficulty because I just don't understand these women. It's hard to believe that Manhattan is only a few hours away from here. It sounds like it's a whole other planet.

Should I be worried?

I see that my blog has had a visitor from the US House of Representatives. Welcome, welcome! Would you like a cup of tea? A cranberry muffin, perhaps? I'm afraid that this humble hausfrau can offer nothing else of great interest or import. So, get back to work, civil servant!

It's, like, hard to be a Congress Critter ..

.. especially now that the work week will stretch out to nearly five days!

Poor, poor Rep. Jack Kingston (R-Ga) was accustomed to flying into DC on Tuesdays, and going back home on Thursdays. Now, he'll have to be in DC by 18:30 on Mondays, and will have to keep working right up until 14:00 on Friday afternoons. He laments that "keeping us here eats away at families. Marriages suffer. The Democrats don't care about families -- that's what this says."

Mr. Kingston, I double-dog-dare you to visit a military community and whine to us about professional duties eating into your family time. For bonus points, go ahead and try out your whiny rant at Fort Wainwright, home of the 172nd Stryker Brigade, who is only now returning from sixteen months, boots on the ground in Iraq.

If Fairbanks, Alaska, is a little too far for you to travel, may I suggest a quick jaunt up Georgia Avenue NW to Walter Reed Army Medical Center? Take a look around, if you can stand it. Then get your priorities in order, and get back to work.

Kickin' it, homeschool style

What homeschoolers do on a snow day, while everyone else is waiting for superintendents to decide between a two hour delay and cancellation of classes in accordance with the "no unnecessary travel" advisory from the sheriff's department.

The joys of simplicity

If you know me in real life, you may be shocked to learn that sometimes I make things more complicated than they need to be.

Case in point: salt. Basic, elemental sodium chloride.

Last Christmas, my sister-in-law gave me a lovely gift pack of various exotic sea salt crystals. It has remained intact and unused for 11 months because I didn't have a salt grinder and couldn't find one that met my standards of form, function and frugality. Not even at IKEA.

Tonight, it finally occured to me that I could simply place a small amount of sea salt on my cutting board and crush it with my rolling pin. Don't worry. I've already smacked my forehead repeatedly.

I combined some Brazilian Sea Salt with a touch of Rosemary Garlic Seasoning and sprinkled it on lamb chops*, which were drizzled with olive oil and then baked at 400F for about 10 minutes.**
My son, who until recently was a very light eater, devoured this dish. He paused only to rub his belly and say "MMMMMM!"

La Vita è bella.

*locally raised and absolutely delicious!

**Don't quote me on that, always use a meat thermometer and not the timer to assess the doneness of your food.

Childhood dream

When I was younger, I used to spend hours looking at National Geographic. I harboured a secret fantasy of becoming a wildlife photographer.

While the Thompson Park Zoo isn't an exotic or challenging locale, it does offer a great opportunity for me to live out my nature stalkarazzi fantasy.



Barred owl, 29 November 2006

Feline behaviour

One of the things I love about house cats is their strong connection to the larger feline species. They do many of the same things that the big cats do,





like cuddling together between bouts of playfighting,





and tucking their paws under their chests when feeling relaxed.

Insert exasperated sigh and eyerolling here

Hello again, my new internet friends. It looks like there's a bit of a discussion brewing in the comments section of my "Peace On Earth" posting. For some reason, the new blogger beta application won't allow me to remove the comments which I find objectionable. So let me say this: Nazi references and snarky arguments are not welcome here. If you want to indulge in that kind of rhetoric, get your own blog.

To "anonymous" who snarked: Ok. It doesn't offend you. That settles the argument. You are representative of all soldiers' wives, my response is this: I have never claimed to represent any point of view beyond my own. That's why I write in the first person, singular.

We now return to our regularly scheduled pet and photoblogging.

Holy Blog Traffic Jam, Batman!

Greetings to all of my new internet friends, who found my blog via a google search for Bob Kearns/Linda Jensen/Pagosa Springs or some variant thereof. Judging from the twenty-fold spike in visitors to my humble abode on the internets yesterday, I think it's safe to say that Mr. Bob Kearns really stepped in it made an error in judgment.

All is well, though. The Homeowner's Association changed its mind yesterday. The wreath can stay, and the fines have been cancelled.

While I have your attention, I'd like to point out that our soldiers are still being killed and seriously injured on a daily basis in Iraq. Thanks to improved body armour, many soldiers are surviving attacks which would have been deadly in years gone by. But the road to recovery is long and painful. Please consider making a donation to the Fisher House program, which provides a home away from home for the families of the wounded.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

Peace on earth, goodwill towards men ..

.. but not for the people who live in a 200-home subdivision in Colorado.

Linda Jensen hung a Christmas wreath with a peace symbol on her door. A few other homeowners in the subdivision complained, including some whose children are serving in Iraq. The president of the homeowner's association, Bob Kearns, ordered the Architectural Control Committee to require Ms. Jensen to remove the wreath. All five members of the committee refused. Mr. Kearns fired them. Ho ho ho, y'all.

As you know, my husband has served in Iraq. Ms. Jensen says she wasn't thinking about the war when she hung the wreath. Even if she was making a political statement with her wreath, I wouldn't take offense. I'd be grateful that someone in America diverted their attention away from American Idol and Britney Spears and Michael Richards' ridiculous rants and the lunacy of Black Friday sales long enough to notice that thousands of American military families and hundreds of thousands of Iraqi families are suffering with no end in sight.

So, Mr. Bob Kearns of Pagosa Springs, Colorado, this is for you:



Edited to add: I'm on the same page as Wil Wheaton. I'm in good company.

A post which proves that I am a perfectly rational and sane dog person

Several months ago, I found myself in a bit of a culinary quandry. I had taken too many packages of ground beef out of the freezer, and needed to use up an extra pound of ground round. A vague idea of homemade dog food floated across my mind, so I cooked up the beef with some brown rice and grated carrots. Lady Chocolate was quite enthusiastic about my little experiment. I discovered that it really wasn't much more expensive than the tinned food I had been feeding her. It was much less hassle to cook up some food for her than to open the tin, mess up a series of spatulas scraping the gelatinous blobs of mystery meat onto her dish, cleaning the cans, and hauling them off to the recycling depot. Further reading into how commercial dog food is made sealed the deal for us.

Friends and family are somewhat bemused by, but generally accepting of, this culinary canine eccentricity of mine. The vet raised an eyebrow upon hearing of this dietary change, then pronounced Chocolate to be a lucky dog. The ultimate proof of the pudding is the health and happiness of our beloved mutt. And I confess, I feel a little smug in that Martha-Stewart kind of way when I tell people about the canine cuisine served at our home.

Tonight, I am a little less smug. I was searching for a recipe for Spaghetti alla Carbonara when I happened upon this recipe for Canine Carbonara. Once I clarified that this was a dish intended for dogs, I was fascinated. I was also knocked down a peg or two. Not only has someone created a plethora of delicious-sounding dishes for dogs, they've taken the time to compile these recipes in great website.

I just hope my dog doesn't read this.

Spoiled rotten!!!!

In my next life, I want to come back as one of my pets.

That's not a camera angle trick - Gandalf, the cat, is huge. When stretched out like that, he's over 3 feet long.

Gomen nasai*

I'm starting to freak myself out a little bit here.

A couple of weeks ago, I took my son on a homeschooling field trip to Ottawa and Smiths Falls. We visited the Canadian Museum of Science and Technology, the Canadian Museum of Nature, and the Hershey Chocolate Factory. Last week, the Hershey Factory had to shut down and recall several of its products after a salmonella scare. I swear, we didn't touch anything!

This week, our homeschooling focus is Japan. We are studying Japan's history, culture, language, and geography. You can see where I'm going with this. No sooner did we explore Japan's vulnerability to earthquakes and tsunamis, did a 7.8 magnitude earthquake strike the Kuril islands, sending a small tsunami towards Hokkaido.

I think we'll return our focus to the three R's for now!

*Japanese for "I am sorry."

My little chickadee

'tis the last rose of summer

Thompson Park Zoo, 13 November 2006

To all the winos Oenophiles out there

I know you already recycle your wine bottles, but did you know that you can recycle the corks, too?

In other wine news, it appears that large doses of red wine extract kept obese mice healthy and flexible.

Cheers!

Boo!!!!

Happy Hallowe'en/Samhain from our house to yours.

A story worth noting

From today's New York Times:

Trained by Inmates, New Best Friends for Disabled Veterans

Hooah.

Insert exasperated sigh here

Part of our TV-free existence means that Oprah is no longer my afternoon guest. I do remain tangentially aware of The Oprah's activities, mostly through internet news articles. For the most part, I remain indifferent to The Oprah.

This article in today's Washington Post, however, raised my ire. Lisa de Moraes' snarky title, "Gee, Oprah. A thousand smackeroos. Thanks a bunch." pretty much says it all - about the pervasive entitlement mentality which appears to be spreading like a malignant tumor over our society.

Oprah gave each audience member a $1000 debit card, which is to be paid forward to the charity of their choice. The author of the article snarks about the "patronization of a woman whose financial worth has been put at $1.5 billion" and "the complacency of a woman who owns three homes."

Sorry, but Oprah doesn't owe anyone a damn thing. Oprah could very easily take her billions, drop out of public life, and live happily ever after without the tabloids cackling over every pound she gains or loses. I wonder how much Ms. de Moraes has contributed to charity this week.

Switching gears a little - I know what we would do with a $1000 debit card. It would go directly to the Mennonite Disaster Service. Gentle reader, how would you spend your $1000?

Maybe he wanted to go to Graceland

A manatee was spotted in the Mississippi River near downtown Memphis yesterday, far from his usual environs of the warm coastal waters from Alabama to South Carolina.

I think he just wanted to pay a little visit to The King.

What the ??????

Blogged for posterity:














20 October 2006, 14:02, Jefferson County, New York.














Same view, 30 minutes later.












And again, at 16:30, after I shovelled the driveway. Twice.



It has been precisely one week since Buffalo, NY was walloped with two feet of lake effect snow.

Whilst I have most of the requisite provisions for dealing with power outages, I am alarmed to note that we are out of wine and vodka at this time. Not good. Not good at all.

Eco-friendly dishwasher detergent

To my great embarrassment, it was only recently that I clued in to the environmental hazards posed by the phosphates in most dishwasher detergents. When the phosphorus returns to the water system, it acts as a fertilizer and promotes an algae bloom. The algae bloom, in turn, chokes out the rest of the life in the ecosystem.

In the Canadian Province of Manitoba, the leader of the Liberal Party is introducing a private member's bill to ban phosphates in dishwasher soap, as was done several years ago with regards to laundry detergent.

There are a few dishwasher detergents on the market which are low in or free from phosphates. Mrs. Meyer's liquid and Method Dish Cubes come to mind, but both are rather expensive and neither are readily available in my area.

Fortunately for me, and for the planet, an economical, efficient, and eco-friendly dishwashing powder can be assembled from basic ingredients which are already in my pantry and laundry room. Here's the recipe, courtesy of Lynn at The New Homemaker.

In a container with a tight fitting lid (like a recycled peanut butter jar) combine:

1 cup Borax
1 cup Baking Soda
1/4 cup table salt
2 packets of dye-free unsweetened Kool-Aid or 1/4 cup citric acid*
a few drops of tea tree oil and a few drops of a citrus-y essential oil**
Shake well.
Use 2-3 teaspoons per wash.
* I use Kool-Aid because I can get it cheap, cheap, cheap at the grocery store on Fort Drum. Citric acid is available at wine-making shops, of which we have none in this area.
** I am using Sweet Orange Oil as it was the cheapest essential oil at the local health food store. The Tea Tree oil is germicidal.

Apart from being phosphate free and economical, this powder is highly efficient and cleans my dishes as well as any commercial product I've tried.

Challenge of the day

Gentle readers, (at least, those who are optically challenged!)

How many old pairs of glasses are you holding on to? If you're like me, you probably have a couple of spare pairs just in case something happens to your current pair. And if you're like me, nothing catastrophic has happened to your spectacles since you lost your first pair 25 years ago and learned a valuable lesson in responsibility.

Those old glasses could be put to better use. The World Health Organization released the results of a study today, which indicates that glasses could help end the cycle of poverty for millions of people in low to middle income countries.

The Lion's Club collects old eyeglasses, cleans and repairs them, and re-distributes them to people in need.

My challenge of the day is for all 5 readers of this blog to gather up their old spectacles and bring them to the nearest eyeglass recycling centre.

Pachyderm Anomie?

There was a fascinating and heartbreaking article in Sunday's New York Times about the breakdown of elephant society. Those who study the problem of Human-Elephant Conflict argue that "today’s elephant populations are suffering from a form of chronic stress, a kind of species-wide trauma. Decades of poaching and culling and habitat loss, they claim, have so disrupted the intricate web of familial and societal relations by which young elephants have traditionally been raised in the wild, and by which established elephant herds are governed, that what we are now witnessing is nothing less than a precipitous collapse of elephant culture."

The article is quite long, but worth reading.

How to disinfect the dining room floor

1. Decide to start quilting again after a one year hiatus.
2. Find a fun pattern.
3. Dig through stash to find suitable fabrics.
4. Gather supplies and get everything set up in the dining room.
5. Be interrupted by the cat who wants to come in out of the cool evening air and sit by your feet. Aw, how cute. Thanks, Gandalf!
6. Start cutting fabric again.
7. Be interrupted by strange crunching sounds coming from the vicinity of your feet.
8. Be horrified to realize that Gandalf is eating a mouse mere inches from your feet.
9. Notify husband that he is on rodent removal duty, effective immediately.
10. Gather rodent removal supplies - gloves and paper towels for the husband, a glass of Pinot Grigio for the freaked out hausfrau.
11. Note that only the mouse's liver remains by the time the supplies have been gathered.
12. Use entire bottle of bleach to disinfect dining room floor.
13. Have another glass of wine.
14. Order more de-worming medicine for the rodent murderer.
15. Be grateful that this time, Gandalf didn't kill a bunny.

It's funny unless you live in Poland

Ananaova article offered without further comment because I'm laughing so hard:

Police hunt farting dissident

I thought I had become inured to this sort of thing

At the time of this writing, there is breaking news of a shooting at a one-room Amish school in Lancaster County, PA.

If an Amish school isn't safe, then what is?

What's worn under the kilt?

The answer to that question may well be revealed today, which is Kilt Day! (The classic answer is, of course, "Nothing is worn under the kilt. It's all in verra, verrra good condition!"

Alas, I am unable to wear my kilt today. Apparently, I was the size of a Keebler Elf when I acquired my kilt. I suspect that my 10 year old niece will soon be in possession of a lovely grey and wine-coloured kilt.