We have a variety of topics today. This could have something to do with the fact that I am avoiding teaching myself the finer points of Dreamweaver, the learning of which would enable me to finish the website I promised to do for my husband an embarrassingly long time ago. Slacker, slacker, lame-ass slacker.
First off, THIS MEANS WAR! (Gross-out alert: more animal poop! My Mum is no doubt rolling in her grave, with me posting shots of animal feces all over my blog. --Sorry Mum!-- She did actually try to teach me manners. It's not her fault!)...
Some raccoon came up on the back porch last night and LEFT HIS CALLING CARD! Am I impressed? No! Am I somewhat amused? Yes! I guess he was annoyed that we'd taken away "his" recycle bin, and he felt compelled to express himself with fecal matter. Either that, or he is marking his territory. Hmm... Now, I read something about using human urine to keep deer and other critters away from your garden. Should I perhaps send my long-suffering husband out to pee around the perimeter of our house?
Speaking of the Long-suffering One, I dug these photos up today. It's the pair of us many years ago. I know I was just starting grade 2, and it was the fall of 1971. But Hubster was still in diapers then, so I think his picture dates from approximately 1975. Don't you love my glasses (yes, I was born blonde)? Don't you love his polyester shirt? I like our matching impish smiles.
I just remember that I wore that dress in September when the temps were still high, and I was incredibly hot because it was made of wool! But I always wanted to wear my new fall clothes asap, weather be damned.
Next, we have the remnants of a most delicious dessert from Fidélice, the best patisserie in the Outaouais. Hell, it's the best patisserie I've ever been to! Unfortunately I didn't get a picture of the complete cake (much more attractive than half-eaten slice), which is one of my very favourites: chocolate puff pastry (how do they do that?!), creamy stuff, chocolate mousse stuff, beautiful fresh fruit (cherries, grapes, pineapple, kiwi, apple, orange, blackberry, strawberry) and chocolate shavings. Worth every last calorie and then some! Fidélice rocks, and the staff are great.
The photo on my desk is my Mum and Dad in Toronto sometime before I was even a glimmer in their eyes... maybe 1961? They came to Canada from England in 1958. Note the very old TV just peeking out behind my Dad. And my Mum was an exquisite dressmaker, so I am pretty sure that's one of her creations she's wearing. I recognize her handiwork. She also made my beautiful wedding and bridesmaid dresses. She had a lot of style, did my Mum. My Dad was a snazzy dresser himself. I've never lived up to their wardrobes!
Speaking of glimmers in eyes, when I was born my Dad was out getting hammered with his buddies to celebrate my imminent birth. He stumbled in sometime soon after, more than a tad inebriated, but happy.
My mother had a 30-hour labour, as she frequently pointed out to me. She also noted the she herself had been a breech birth at home, and her mother almost split in half and never forgave her for it (my maternal grandmother had various issues that made her a not-so-hot mother.) Mum also enjoyed reminding me of the night when I was a baby and cried for sixteen hours straight. Evidently her father finally gave me a tipple of something alcoholic, which did the trick. Interestingly, I have never been much of a drinker. Tea is my poison. Tea and being a smartass.
ANYWAY, when my Hubster was born via Caesarian, his Dad was hard at work. (This was back in the 60s, when men weren't in the delivery room, never mind in the delivery room videotaping the entire event!) My father-in-law received a genteel phone call from my mother-in-law, summoning him to the hospital to meet the new son.
I think the behaviour of our respective fathers might hint at why I am the one in this marriage who posts pictures of animal poo on her blog, whereas my darling Hubster is more likely to be found reading The Guardian Weekly (great paper!) 'nuff said.
Back to the garden! We have a pair of Baltimore orioles hanging around our garden. They are gorgeous and I love their song. For a while there, they renamed Baltimore orioles "Northern orioles", but now the old name is back again. This isn't a great pic but it'll do. Lucky I have that 70-210 mm zoom lens.
Later this week: the joy of hummingbirds. But no more animal poop for a while, I promise.