In the last few months, I’ve had a lot of folks attempted to add comment spam. What is comment spam? Canned, vague statements that could apply to just about any post. Why do this? There is a space in the comment section where you can also add a link to a site. Spammers try to flood blog comments to increase inbound links to their crap sites.
I delete most of them, but I’ve started keeping some of them, except I edit them to remove the spam link and add a comment making fun of them. Why? I don’t know. It’s just kind of fun.
I suppose it’s about time to introduce our new puppy Dolce. Since losing Poncho, we’d been volunteering for Pit Bull Rescue San Diego. We started out fostering an incredibly sweet American Bulldog named Bianca. We had her for about a month before finding a fantastic home for her. Dolce was to be our second foster, but after having her a few days we decided to keep her. She was almost five months when we got her. I’m not sure if she’s the same mix as Poncho; I think she could be part English Mastiff…definitely some kind of bully-breed (aka Molosser) in there.
I waste a lot of time with Google maps. I’ve recently rekindled my fascination with London after finding the Hampton Court Palace maze on Google maps.
I think I also found the little pub across the street from the palace grounds that I enjoyed a few bitters at. The rear part of the pub had an outdoor patio right on the Thames; I crouched at the edge and touched it. (Yeah, locals are laughing at me because it’s dirty, but it seemed pretty exotic to a guy who spent his first quarter century living in Pennsylvania).
I’m not exactly sure which structure it was (the smaller one to the right or the larger to the left?) I don’t remember big umbrellas being that close to the water…but then again, I was last there in 1991.
Pictures of the city beach, county, music school are high!
Sex lyrics are sometimes free, not for home sale on the high center of the map.
What is this nonsense, you may ask? I just wanted to see what would happen if I made an entry the included all of the most popular search terms. Probably not a whole hell of a lot.
Sex. Lyrics. Map. Pictures. Pow! A free sale? Home, city. Home.
To make this post more interesting, here’s a “what-if” vision I had: what if Willem Dafoe was cast in “Driving Miss Daisy” instead of Jessica Tandy? (and what if it was in French?)
Walking out to the car this morning, I got a few within-inches flybys from a bird. I figured they’d probably recently built a nest in the tree next to the driveway, which maybe I could relocate before they got too settled. Well, turns out it’s a little late for that. After returning from Peets, I noticed a dead baby bird on the sidewalk and a few feet away a live bird that appeared to be a fledgeling (or a near fledgling). The branch where the nest was located stuck out over the sidewalk; apparently, two youngsters fell out (or were pushed out? Insert conspiracy theory here).
The parent birds weren’t happy about the situation, buzzing around and squawking at me. I disposed of the deceased fellow, hoping that we could all move on from that sad chapter. The remaining little guy didn’t appear to be doing well; his wings didn’t appear to be developed enough to fly, and I’m not even sure if his eyes were open. He would take a few steps, then kind of topple over and lay there awhile…seemed like it was a struggle for him to stand up. Not sure if that was because of his age or being without food or water for too long on a hot sidewalk. That coupled the jackass stray cats that roam our neighborhood (the ones that piss on anything and everything in our yard, including all of our doors), the little bird was not in a good situation. Erin went online and found a few sites with info about what to do about baby birds. While she was doing that, I stuck in umbrella above him in the bush so that he didn’t get roasted in the sun.
Erin’s research indicated that handling baby birds will not cause their parents to abandon them (I guess they don’t give a damn what their young smells like). Fortunately, the nest wasn’t too high in the tree, so I got out a step ladder, put on some gloves, and set him back in the nest. Later in the day, we could see the parent birds bringing food to the nest, so I’m guessing that he’s OK for now.
(Click for larger images)
Update: I’m pretty sure that the birds are Northern Mockingbirds. Evidence: distinctive white bands underneath wings (not visible in my pictures), common “dive bombing” behavior when anything gets near the nest, and their tendency to never shut up.
Who am I kidding? Let’s just pretend it’s not, and say that it’s just me writing about stuff from time to time. There’s always a good chance it will be something about my dog.
Here he is galloping at the local ballfield. I get the impression that some people are intimidated by his appearance, but it’s so hard for me to see. He’s not that big (55 pounds) and is a huge cupcake. We were fortunate to get a dog that doesn’t seem to have much of a prey drive (though he does have a big play drive). He’s quite respectful of that cat (and will lick the cat if I start to pet the cat). He is aware that he’s bigger than the cat; if the cat gets in his food, he rushes over and delivers a silent cease-and-desist order. Trillium ambles off, pretending to not know why Poncho is mad-dogging him.
