He Otter Be In Pictures!!!

That's my kid! My picture of William and the otter is on the cover of the latest issue of Zoo Scoop, which is the quarterly newsletter of the New York State Zoo at Thompson Park!

What a difference a few minutes can make

The dawn's first light ..

.. yielded to the mist ..

.. which succumbed to the brilliance of the September sun.

Seriously?

Yes, that's a pair of size 2 jeans with a tummy control panel, on the rack at our local Target.

Seriously, Target? Are you actually trying to convince women who can fit into a size TWO that their physiques are still not adequate, and must resort to a 21st century built-in girdle to suck it in? Seriously?

Misty September Sunrise

the honking of geese

floats over the morning mist

farewell before flight

Another touch of gold at the end of the summer

a glass of chablis

catching the last beams of light

summer meets autumn

The last golden days of summer

The hummingbirds have been a constant presence this summer,

dashing about, then resting in the spruce tree outside my window,

always taking my breath away, with their delicate beauty and ferocious strength.

But the Full Corn Moon announces that summer, and the hummingbirds, will leave us soon,

And fill our lives with a different kind of brightness.

Parenting tip of the day

When your temper-throwing toddler is using his grandfather's cane to whack the merchandise at Sam's Club, forcing my elderly parents to jump out of the way lest they end up needing a cane themselves, it isn't cute. You most certainly do not have the situation under control. And yes, I am absolutely justified in throwing you my iciest, most judgmental stare.

Deal with it.

Someday, you'll thank me.

I Dream of Butterflies

I am blessed to have a 12 year old son who, among other things, loves butterflies as much as I do. We spent a glorious morning at the Niagara Falls Butterfly Conservatory today. My son could easily identify all of these flying jewels. At the moment, after a long day of driving, I am hard pressed to do so.

Irony Alert!!!

Well, let's see what came in today's mail!

Oh, goodie! Coupons!

Let's check them out!

We've got a coupon for 10% off all food and non-alcoholic beverages at the local Applebee's. Hmmm. The diligent folks behind "Eat This, Not That" give Applebee's a big, fat "F" for nutrition. Let's file that coupon in the circular file, shall we?

What's next? Ooh, it's a coupon for Texas Roadhouse! Specifically, it's for a free "Baby Blossom" with the purchase of two entrees. Hmmm, take a perfectly innocent onion, bread it and deep fry it into oblivion? No thanks. Little coupon, you may join your friend in the circular file.

And finally, a discount coupon for Ninety Nine restaurant. Never heard of it, but it looks like yet another chain specializing in breaded, deep fried, additive-laden crap. Let's make it three for three in the toss pile.

The irony in all of this is that these coupons were sent by our .. wait for it .. our HMO!!

I think they're trying to kill us with kindness. Either that, or they're in cahoots with big pharma. Maybe both.

The best sights pop up when you're not looking for them

It was my sweet and gentle son, so often off in his own little world, who drew my attention to the family of sparrows who live just outside the cougar pavillion at the zoo. I would have completely missed these beautiful moments - and so many others over the past twelve years - if not for my quirky and beautiful little guy.

It's Open Letter Time Again!

Dear D-Bag who just roared down my road on a noisy crotch rocket, thus shattering the early evening tranquility and harshing on my mellow:

I'm terribly sorry about your tiny willy. My spam folder tells me that there's a pill for that now.

Oh, and please sign your organ donor card.

Love and cupcakes,

Miniature Rose

April showers ..

.. and May and June and July showers ..

.. still manage to bring August flowers!

Otters!!

The new otter exhibit at The NY State Zoo at Thompson Park has opened, and Louis is a delight!

Up close and personal!

Downward facing otter.

Upward facing otter.

Otter getting some oxygen.

And down he goes again!
T

They don't call me NeuROSEs for nothing!

Over the past 4 months, Amadeus and I have journeyed over 5,000 miles together. The only glitch in our relationship is the uncertainty of where the next gas station which sells diesel might be on our path. I'm sure there's an iPhone app which would take this uncertainty out of the equation, but, alas, I'm to cheap to buy an iPhone I do not have an iPhone. Also, as my nickname would suggest, I need something to be neurotic about. The location of a diesel station is a pretty mild substitute, and an adequate distraction from, life's larger issues.

This week, Amadeus took me to a funeral in the beautiful heart of Ontario's Cottage Country. On the return journey, some 450 miles into a tank of diesel, I thought it might be wise to fuel up again as the needle on the gauge was getting precariously close to the quarter tank notch. I pulled in to a station in Trenton, Ontario, which advertised that it sold diesel. I was a little dubious, for this place was clearly a throwback in time. Not only did the pumps still have those little yellow balls floating in the bubble on the side, but there was also an actual person whose job it was to run those pumps and fuel up people's vehicles. So, I asked the proprieter if the diesel they sold was, in fact, the ultra-low-sulfur diesel for which Amadeus thirsted. Indeed, I was assured, it was that new-fangled stuff, and all of the cool kids with VW diesel fuelled up there.

Onwards we drove. Amadeus chugged right along to the next stop in our journey. When I stepped out, though, my nostrils were assaulted with that unmistakable sulfur-y, rotten egg smell. OH NOES, thought I. It wasn't ultra-low-sulfur diesel! I just killed Amadeus!!!!!

Then I heard a strange whirring sound. I looked up, and saw the large truck that was pumping out the septic tank next door.

Yeah, maybe I'll shell out some bucks for an iPhone. It's probably cheaper than therapy, in the long run.

Graceful

Two different families of swans, Prince Edward County, July 18, 2009.

As if I needed another reason to admire the President

I found this picture, lifted from The Boston Globe, to be utterly, utterly charming.

I spend an inordinate amount of time at work trying to decipher the handwriting of physicians. The old stereotype of poor penmanship on the part of doctors is, sadly, grounded in reality. Fortunately, there are exceptions to the rule. I have found that there is a direct, positive correlation between the neatness of the handwriting and the professional courteousness and overall niceness of the doctor. There is one particular physician whose notes are an absolute joy to read, not only for the perfect calligraphy, but for the care and attention to detail he incorporates into his communication.

I don't think it's a mere coincidence that Mr. Obama's penmanship is so exquisitely beautiful. The fact that he is a fellow southpaw is just icing on the cake.

The best seats (not) in the house

The Zen-Like state into which I float while folding the laundry was interrupted just now by some faint booming. I stepped out onto the moist grass and across the road to watch the fireworks being launched from Thompson Park Hill. The fact that I was in my nightgown was irrelevant. The fireflies who zoomed around me were more concerned with adding their own lumenescence to the show than with my inappropriate attire. The coyotes yipped and yelped at the cacophony which floated on the night air.

When the last of the rockets' red glare faded into the night, I walked back across the lush, barely manicured grass, letting the dew caress my un-pedicured feet. In that moment, I was acutely aware that I might not possess everything I've ever wished for .. but I'm pretty darned close.

As Canadian as ..

.. possible, under the circumstances!

So, last night, I was feeling a little guilty and pitiful that I wouldn't be celebrating Canada Day in the Great White North. I had asked for, and received, a sufficient block of time off from work to facilitate making the trip across the border, but ongoing renovations at both my house and my parents' abode put the kibosh on that idea.

Then, as I was perusing the delightful Twitter Feed of that incredibly talented Canadian mammal known as Jian Ghomeshi, I was hit by a bolt of inspiration. Jian is currently obsessed with butter tarts, which are a uniquely Canadian treat. A-Ha, I thought! I could try my hand at making butter tarts!

A quick click of the mouse later, I was on the Canadian Living Magazine website. Unsurprisingly, a search for "butter tart" within that particular site yields 2026 results, including a recipe for Maple Butter Tarts. The Gods of Canadian Culinary Goodness were smiling upon me, as I actually had all of the ingredients on hand. I chose the Maple Chocolate variation, and ..



.. they were a hit! Let's just say that I now have a little extra leverage with my extremely appreciative American husband.

Happy Canada Day, eh?

Quote of the day

It's like we're sitting on top of a gold mine!

That was my son's reaction to tasting the first wild strawberry of the season, just now, as we picked them on our back forty.

Indeed, we do, kiddo. Indeed, we do.

A random collection of thoughts

Tap .. tap .. is this thing on? Is anyone still out there, peeking in on this poor neglected blog from time to time?

The blame for this blog neglect can be shared between the extra hours I've been putting in at work and overseeing a fairly big home improvement project.

Having renovations done to one's house is rather like making sausages. If one wishes to enjoy the finished product, it's best not to observe the process. This is especially true when the process involves scaffolding, and the observer is a Orthopedics/Rehab Nurse whose nickname at work is NeuROSEs.

When said renovations take place outside, it's wise to spend a few dollars in a big cooler, lots of ice, and a selection of refreshing beverages for the crew. This small investment will yield a large return in more and better labour. Trust me on this one.

Sometimes, I think I my job entails far too much ahem excrement, both literally and metaphorically speaking. After reading this local news story, I shall not complain about my job!