Wednesday as I sat typing at the kitchen table I caught movement in my peripheral vision. Just outside my window a turtle seemed to be laying an egg or eggs.
As soon as she moved away, having covered the fruits of her labor, I went outside and placed an empty flower pot atop the disturbed earth in order to protect the eggs from scavengers.
Of course now I’m wondering if she was indeed a she. If not, I’m most likely protecting turtle turds. Good times at Doright Manor.
Peace, people!
Yes, there are a lot of lemon juice drenched idiots out there.
Maybe David Brooks, but some NYT wag recently wondering the why of a Donald Trump, touted the ‘Dunning-Kruger effect.’ Well, here you go.
“One day in 1995, a large, heavy middle-aged man robbed two Pittsburgh banks in broad daylight. He didn’t wear a mask or any sort of disguise. And he smiled at surveillance cameras before walking out of each bank. Later that night, police arrested a surprised McArthur Wheeler. When they showed him the surveillance tapes, Wheeler stared in disbelief. ‘But I wore the juice,’ he mumbled. Apparently, Wheeler thought that rubbing lemon juice on his skin would render him invisible to videotape cameras. After all, lemon juice is used as invisible ink so, as long as he didn’t come near a heat source, he should have been completely invisible.
Police concluded that Wheeler was not crazy or on drugs – just incredibly mistaken.
The saga caught the eye…
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From the delicious mind of Shehanne Moore! Enjoy. Oh, and the hamsters are darned cute.
Splendor CHAPTER ONE
London 1810
There was nothing wrong with pistols at seven paces at dawn. Except dawn was at eight o’clock tomorrow, and Splendor had a dressmaker’s appointment then. Three thimbles and the scissors had smacked into the back of the Chinese dressing screen 
the last time she’d wandered in ten minutes late. Madame Renare had said these were meant for her assistant, that paying customers, even those who were behind with their bills, were sacrosanct. Splendor knew she lied, that Lady Haskins, who always had the next appointment, would depart wearing Splendor’s guts for garters if she were late again. And if she didn’t bring the money to pay her the bill.
Despite the pulse beating in her throat and her desire for the black-and-white checkered floor she stood upon to open up and swallow her, she’d promised Gabe there was nothing to this. She wouldn’t do anything…
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I might add: Stay.
Like a glacial landslide
Inexorable, inevitable,
One mere inch at a time
The panic grows
Humanity waits alone
At the bottom of the hill,
Daring the drifts to stop
As progress slows.
The cries are anguished,
Circumstances advance
Like a cancer on the skin,
Yet everybody knows.
Keep the tides at bay
Hold the line, tote that bale
Slam shut the heavy doors
While despair feeds the crows.
Color Blind by Leslie Noyes
I once professed to color blindness, black, white, red, brown, all people looked the same, I claimed,
But the skin and its store of melanin or lack thereof does not a person make. No, color is bone deep,
Soul drenched, and we are different in beautifully messy ways. Better to be color aware than color
Blind. Better to celebrate the tints and tinges of pigments than to ignore our unique differences.
Peace, people.
My gardening skills are limited, at best, but on Saturday morning I attended a workshop at a local nursery and bought three plants that are supportive of monarch butterflies. Today, I planted them and since I cannot for the life of me remember what types of plants they are I call this one, “Larry, Moe, and Curly.”
Great piece from alotfromlydia.wordpress.com
From a friend’s blog. Great advice.
Source: The New Yorker
There is current discussion on whether our president has a complete grasp and understanding for the necessities required to fulfill the duties of his office. In particular, his awareness of the need for caution, restraint, and discretion.
I can sort of relate to his predicament.
Many years ago someone rather high in my workplace had a habit of calling me just to gab. At first I thought it was work related, and I so I would quickly grab a paper and pen to write down everything he said. I figured wherever he was going, it would ultimately end up as some kind of assignment. But it never did. I would write furiously, add in a few oral “mm-hmm’s” just to let him know I was still on the line, and eventually he would end the call with a thanks for the chance to bend my ear. I would shake my head, ask myself what…
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Found today on Facebook. Appropriate.
Praying for Eyebrowz 