Condorama

Picture my amusement when I looked into this face

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and it turns out he’s a 61 year old Andean Condor inspiringly named Andy. Personally I think he should bear the name “Fuckyou Lookingat” since them big yellow eyes hold no sensitivity. And yet his fashion choices, comblined with the shiny glory of his oddly hunky beak, give him an air of relaxed sophistication much at odds with his glassy stare. I’m trying to tell if I find him attractive? I mean Christ Risen, he’s the same age as me.

Didn’t let Paul into the house today; sat on the deck with the sun SO FINE so excellent, speaking of nothing, letting the ick of this ludicrous situation fall off us as the fluffy clouds developed and imploded.

so warm and glorious

Finally we took a tour, almost everyone wearing masks, avoiding us on the sidewalk, crossing the road….

but Kima has no bones

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165 million year old fossil octopus from France.

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Isn’t this wonderful? I’m not a fan of the show; merely its surfaces and cultural impact, to the extent that I wrote a desperately bad original filk tune about it, which I’m not even going to bother to renounce since I have no idea what someone more savvy than a girl like I might do with it. Anyway, I likes it, and there were distinct choices that went into its makeup that show comfort and skill.

Giri Haji is not a show about Japanese gagsters

I am liking this show SO MUCH AND WE ONLY HAVE ONE EP LEFT wail

Did you know coyotes and badgers have been known to hunt together? There’s video on the internet that looks like the first shot of a movie. Further pics.

Storage Jar (1858), David Drake.
Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York Stoneware vessel (1858), David Drake At the Stony Bluff Manufactory in Old Edgefield, South Carolina, the enslaved potter David Drake made stoneware vessels of extraordinary workmanship, often inscribed with short poems describing their owner and function. ‘When you fill this Jar with pork or beef / Scot will be there; to get a peace’ is carved into one side of the vessel, among other lines. This is of 40 known surviving ‘poem vessels’ by Drake, and the first to enter the Met’s collection.

 

 

This is just for mOm everybody else ignore it

So I realized in minutes that nobody else on the bus gave a shit about birds (reindeer, foxes, sure) so I quit calling out stuff I was seeing on the bus…  so this is my post about birds. I am a potato photographer so no pics.

On my lifetime list now:

Common wagtail. They are ahem common.

I did NOT see a skua. Whatever it was, it wasn’t a skua. Skuas are fucking ginormous and whatever this was it was much smaller.

Ravens every day.

Northern Diver – saw that one SUPER close, from the bus, under perfect light, breeding plumage like jewels nested on a grey silk pillow.

Waders (they like to sit on posts next to the shore so they were easy to spot)

I saw TWO ptarmigan, once the first day and once the second last day; first one was snow white and the other was coming into breeding colours.

So many arctic terns, including in a nesting area, and man do they squeak.

I never saw a golden plover to identify it but the little fuckers never shut up and are beloved as the Icelandic sign of spring.

Pink footed Goose

King Eider!!!! man you cannot miss those suckers. Those I only saw on the East coast, right on the ocean.

BARROW’S GOLDENEYE they breed in the Lake of Midges and I saw a breeding pair in still water at the side of the road in that part of Iceland. They went by pretty fast but there’s nothing else in the Icelandic bird pics that matches.

so there you go mOm you can start looking at the pics on line.

 

today’s non-events

Got into a beatdown with a bunch of one of the most self-righteous pot activists (like there’s another fucking kind) on twitter today.

Come ON I smoke, but I don’t smoke and blow smoke in the faces of the allergic and the elderly, and they’re announcing it’s their RIGHT, because this is VANCOUVER, home of TOLERANCE. Yeah I’ll believe that when Canada gives back the unceded lands, you unregenerate failure of logic. I’m like a homophobe for harshing their mellow. Srsly. Got accused of equivalency to homophobia for objecting to people dousing the entire west end in pot smoke for their stupid fucking 420 festival (which leaves heaps of trash mounded everywhere and they’re all cryface because they didn’t get a fucking permit.) F*ck me!

I realized that when you put asterisks in f*cking swearwords you’re putting a leedle asshole right in the meedle of the word and since when you’re swearing there’s usually an asshole involved, it’s mesmerizingly poifect.

I love Buster, he’s an amazing cat. And he loves me too, I know it. I don’t think Miss Margot cares if I live or die, but Buster does.

My latest piece of fanfic smut has more than five hundred likes (it’s cute and hot, so there)

I’ve written a BDSM scene in the same ‘verse but I’m not happy with it yet. I had to put in about 200 words about how the scene is ‘necessary but non-consensual’ which kinda blows (or not!) since scenes need consent if they’re to resonate with me writing, at all. So it’s like “We’ve talked about this – I hate it when you want me (and need me) to top you but I’m s’posed to read your mind – and topping when you’re angry at your partner is a bad bad bad idea” followed by “Do what ya gotta, man, just hit me really hard.” Oh, and there are minor children in the house while this sh*t’s going down, just to make it even more like real life, and our heroes must deal with the domestic consequences of Daddies fighting. I LOVE A CHALLENGE. After all, continuing to have interesting sex after kids *is* a continuing challenge in real life. People want carefree smut? they can look elsewhere; to me smut always has a cost. Who bears it depends on who’s being responsible, or not.

Not that anybody wants to know, but I’m really not into any of those behaviours in real life. Nagging at volume is sort of where I max out, ask any of my exes.

Continuing to have the poly life discussion with someone. It’s painful. Really painful. I feel like I have my nose up again a particularly interesting window. I can smell bread baking. But no. G*ddamned heteronormative uncommunicative bushwah (on their end, not mine.) But at the same time there’s NO F*CKING POINT to becoming an elder if you don’t understand that real life takes time, opportunities for growth don’t wait, and if you don’t consider who’s going to be impacted by your decisions, your years, your grey hairs and and your learning means squat. I am still 22 in some corner of my persona, for my enthusiasms still have all the joy of my youth; I just can’t write everyone affected by my behaviour out of the script any more. I do from time to time, but not all the time.

Fortunately, since I’m pushing 60 with a broom, I can contemplate my greed like the gorram caged bear that it is. Still here, but not running the show.

Katie is still having a rough time and she and Alex are both sick again.

I am not having a rough time. I feel pretty good, all things considered. I have another two weeks of full time work. If that changes, I’ll deal with it. I actually have a plan to deal with it that I think will make almost everyone happy, at least temporarily.

Rogue One is a fucking fantastic movie. Getting eaten by Disney was the best thing that ever happened to the franchise.

Now to check if my money transfer has come through.

Been bally ages since last mooooose pic

So here it is.

Spent time with young Master Alex in Oakalla (Deer Lake) Park and his Mama and Pawpa (Paul) and while we were walking along the same stretch where we saw the coyote with Keith, he ran between the three of us giving us our titles. He’d run up behind us and tap us on the ass and say ZIZI or PAWPA or MUMMY like a little buzzing bee. He walked the whole 2.5 k himself, he ran up to joggers to give them greetings (causing one guy to dodge around and almost wipe out) but he gave bunches of grandmotherly types big smiles and ran up to them with his arms out.

Dogs he’s not so sure about, but with assistance he can interact appropriately.

He fell madly in love with a puddle and some heart shaped leaves.

He’s such a dear little person. I feel amply rewarded for my patience during his earlier difficulties bonding with anyone but his mom. Paul and I are having a panic with him.

I wish Katie was not experiencing personal difficulties right now, but they aren’t impacting Alex at all that I can see and everything will be fine in the outcome.

I has another dreffle sad

Miss Margot bit and clawed the living shit out of me last night as I was petting her.

My description of her behaviour made Nancy LF. on Facebook advise me to check into this ailment.  Jeff and I have noted many times that Margot is not neurotypical. We didn’t think much of it, bu she’s shown every symptom to me except one.

I think whatever is wrong with her is not being helped by Buster’s continual bullying/play requests; she’s definitely stressed.

Diagnosis will be expensive, but she’s obviously unhappy, and something’s gotta shift.

Dawww Buster

Sweet little nose kiss for Margot when he came home this morning, it was adorable.  Margot is acting off colour, but she just misses Jeff’s keyboard as a perch I think, and she did eat this morning so she can’t be that bad.

Played with Buster downstairs for a while.

No writing progress, but I finished the bridge for Blues for an Orange Sky.