For all of you coming back from a Super Bowl high or low, I have great news for you this morning. I have received two confirmed reports that Attila The Hen Lives!! The current Mrs. Blythe claims she saw him last week next door at the apartment complex. The other claim was from one of the GWD (Guys With Dogs) Whizzy and I run into occasionally on our trips to Datsko Park.
Ghost Chicken on the bay.
As for the game, well, it was sure nice to get to bed in the 4th quarter. Lousy game, lousy commercials, lousy half-time show. But that $20 bucks I won will make it worthwhile.
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A tired client at Papa's Daycare. It used to be these shutdowns would be an opportunity to put my feet up and relax awhile. No longer. Powers above my grade scale have told me to keep it awake regardless - it won't fall asleep in bed at the right time at night if I don't. Drat.
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I watched a little movie called Alpha last week. It wasn't too bad.
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On my early morning walks I pass by a large hospice center and there is a night watchman who tools around on his golf cart patrolling the place. We have become acquainted and as I pass by I'm always on the lookout. I have mentioned him here in the past, I'm sure.
A couple days ago I ran into him and asked how he was. He is riddled with health problems - bad heart and diabetic. He was taking a sleep disorder exam last time we talked and I was anxious to find out how it went.
He told me he had not received he results back but his wife, who also took it, was the worst case their doctor had ever seen. Last time we chatted he told me he was falling asleep at times, or becoming disoriented and missing his assigned stops.
He told me again this time how he has nothing and if he lost this job he would lose his house and car. He said he would be homeless. He and his wife. It is heartbreaking. Let's all just give a second today to give thanks for what we have and the ability to reasonably assured that we will have a roof over our heads without worry.
The name on his badge is Temp.
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If I knew how this internet blog thingy worked I might be able to transfer this short video correctly for viewing. As it is, I don't, so I can't. I'm told that if you click on the "View this post on Instagram" you will see a deaf actor and his dog and how he has trained it to respond to sign language.
And I can't get Whizzy to Stay with a voice, hearing, treats and a whip.
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If it doesn't scare you that there was a 100 degree differential in a week's time in the Midwest, you aren't paying attention. Global warming is real, so say 99% of the world's scientists.
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First off I want to tell you that Whizzy is half Aussie Shepherd and half Black Mouth Cur (BMC). We see very little Aussie in her and she looks almost exclusively like a BMC. The movie used a half Lab half Mastiff Hollywood mutt to portray Yeller. But in the Fred Gipson's 1956 book it was a Black Mouth Cur. So there.
Anyway we went to the 4th Basic Obedience class and we finally reached her limit. The exercise is to say "Stay" as you lower your open hand in front of her. Then step away from her and move at leash length in front of her. She was doing fine when I returned to her right side. But now we are to move to the left of her around back and return to her right. She has been unable to perform this action. She can't stay still long enough for me to return to my position.
With two classes left there is serious question about her being class Valedictorian.
Oh, yeah, and her birthday was last Saturday. She went to the dog park.
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As The Whizz and I were taking our early morning walk we came across this power truck fixing a line. Nothing dramatic happened but I wanted to point out the jackets the two workers in the cherry picker were wearing. My iPhone camera didn't do it justice but the back of the jackets were lit up with a string of LED lights. It was pretty neat looking from the ground.
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New Washington Post poll: 63% of Americans are unhappy with the direction of the country.
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My only New Year's resolution is to continue hating cats.
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Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
Whose woods these are I think I know.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
His house is in the village, though;
He will not see me stopping here
To watch his woods fill up with snow.
My little horse must think it queer
To stop without a farmhouse near
Between the woods and frozen lake
The darkest evening of the year.
He gives his harness bells a shake
To ask if there is some mistake.
The only other sound’s the sweep
Of easy wind and downy flake.
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
- Robert Frost (died: 29 January 1963)
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