Thursday, September 03, 2015
Tuesday, September 01, 2015
I paddled allllll the way up the reservoir and alllll the way back down. Over eight miles, total. I saw herons, kingfishers, ducks and eagles. It was awesome!
And this week? I feel like someone whaled on my back with a 2 x 4. I can barely WALK. There's a mysterious bruise on the side of my foot the size of a deck of cards, making me limp.
Will I do it again? Oh, YOU BETCHA. Ha.
Monday, August 31, 2015
Friday, August 28, 2015
Fair time! Yaaaaaaaay!
The skies were threatening and the weather was cool, but living in Upstate sure prepares you for THAT, so I just wore jeans and a rain jacket instead of shorts and a tank top, and I was ready to go.
It was opening day, so the sand sculpture was just getting started:
The butter sculpture always draws a crowd:
Sea lions! I usually feel bad for the animals at carnivals, but these sea lions were all rescued after being injured and could never be released back into the wild, and they seemed happy and playful, so it was fun to watch them.
Rockin' out to Everclear at Chevy Court:
The thing that surprised me most about Everclear, other than the fact that they're still around (ha), is that the lead singer, Art Alexakis, who is known to be pretty much a sour-ass douche, actually seemed to be enjoying himself yesterday. Surprise!
See the gal in the blue shirt on the left, there?:
She was the sign-language interpreter, and while I have to question how many deaf people bother to go to concerts, she was having a good time, rocking along with the band.
Oh my god the QUILTS:
Adirondack Mountain Cloggers:
That lady with the pink shoelaces HAD to be pushing ninety, and she wasn't all that steady on her feet, but she was out there cloggin' it up with the best of them, bless her heart.
This alpaca (llama?) thought I was kind of sketchy:
Oh, Fair, I love you so. See you next year!
Monday, August 24, 2015
Crayfish vs. foot - can you spot him?:
This blue heron stayed just ahead of me all the way down the creek. There was a green heron, too, but I didn't manage to get a pic of him.
These ducks were on the river - gray bodies and brown heads - I don't know what they are, so if someone would care to enlighten me, I'd be grateful:
A pretty sunflower on a summer day:
Friday, August 21, 2015
Did I ever mention that I read tarot cards? I learned how, back in school a million years ago, and now every once in a while I dust the cards off and do a few readings so I don't forget how.
Last weekend the rescue was having a sidewalk sale/bake sale/adoption event extravaganza, and I offered to do individual card readings as a fundraiser.
The first thing I do when reading cards is to explain that it's for entertainment only. That I am not a psychic, and that it's all for fun. That there is a certain skill level involved in learning what the cards mean and how they interact with each other, but that at least when *I* read the cards, there is no mysticism involved.
People were asking questions about work situations and family stuff and relationships, and it was all well and good until an obviously upset woman sat down at my table.
Her husband had died, she said. Two weeks ago. She was fairly certain that he would have lived longer had his brother not pulled the plug against her wishes. And now the brother was trying to screw her out of money. And she accidentally killed her cat. and and and
This woman was deeply grieving and terribly upset. I consoled her the best I could, and explained that what she needed wasn't a reading. She needed to be taking care of herself. I urged her to get counseling, and to lean on those around her. I ... felt pretty helpless, actually.
In the end, she wanted a reading. That was a lot of fun. Gah. I read her cards, and told her what I thought might console her, and gave her a great big hug. She seemed more composed by the time she left, but I'm still thinking about that woman and what she was going through.
I didn't do any more readings that day. I couldn't.
And I think it might be a while before I pick up the cards again.
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
Let's see, when last I wrote about goings-on in the foster room, the Terrific Trio were residing there.
They're still here:
That's Apple Pie, Chloe, and Watson, from left.
"Go 'way, laydee! We iz havin' a meetin'!":
Last Saturday, they needed to visit the rescue to get their vaccinations started. While I was there, the woman who runs the rescue was telling me about another kitten who needed a foster home.
Turns out that a woman who runs a local gas station had called her. One of her customers had stopped to get gas, and while he was filling up, he noticed something FALL OUT FROM UNDERNEATH HIS TRUCK. When he looked to see what it was, it was a kitten.
The kitten had evidently crawled up into the engine compartment of his truck (more common in the wintertime around here) on one of his previous stops and gone for a ride. Unfortunately, it had gotten injured by the moving parts of the engine, and when it fell out of the truck at the gas station, it was badly hurt. Which is when the rescue was called in.
When the woman who runs the rescue got to the gas station, she didn't think the kitten was going to make it. It was too young and too badly injured. But she rushed it to the vet, who said that while it had a broken leg and some severe lacerations, the injuries were not life-threatening and the cat could be saved. The lacerations could be stitched up, and the broken leg could be pinned back together.
But how to pay for the surgery?
Well, before the woman who runs the gas station called the rescue, she called the local DCO (Dog Control Officer). And while the DCO said he could not help with a cat, he is friends with the woman who runs the rescue, and when he found out that the cat was savable if the money could be raised for surgery, he started a GoFundMe. Lo and behold, people stepped up, the surgery was done, and
It was originally thought that the kitten was a boy, because most orange cats are boys, and the guy whose truck it fell out of (who donated money for the surgery) asked that it be called Mike. But once the kitten was at the vet, it was quickly discovered to be a little GIRL kitten, and thus ... Mikette.
After her surgery, Mikette went to a temporary foster home, where she was fussed over and loved. But that foster home could not keep her, and when the woman who runs the rescue asked if I could fit her in with my foster brood, well ...
I call her Mikey.
Her little broken leg continues to heal and strengthen, and while she is awfully thin, she is improving, and the outlook is just fine.
Welcome to Foster Camp, Mikey! I hope you enjoy your stay.