Tag: photos

A few photos

I just went out with the dogs to check the weather. It’s cold–39 degrees–but no precipitation right now, so nothing sleety or snowy going on at The Compound. I realized that I never put any pictures on here of last week’s “big event”:


Cold fern.


Cold elephant ear.


Cold palm.


Cold cacti.

Of course, New Orleans, as is her wont, had to one-up Houston and have real accumulation for dramatic photos of snow-covered streetcars and such. She’s such a show-off, that coastal sister of ours. We love her.

Ninja Fire

Confidential to Mr. Puterbaugh.

Apparently, I come from a long line of women who go rogue. I think you’ll get what I mean:

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Last week, I virtuously went to the dentist (Look, Ma, no cavities!), went to the lab two months late to get my blood drawn, and conducted some mara-freaking-thon shopping. And you know I DO NOT LIKE TO SHOP. But I got a lot done, including getting all my holiday cards in the mail along with 13 packages.

Some of my errands were prompted by Ninja Lesbians. In a covert operation, they delivered to The Compound:


A chiminea!

Anyone who knows me knows I love a nice fire (nice means no structures, living trees, or woodland creatures are involved). Even though we don’t have much cold weather, we do have a little period of time when there are no mosquitoes and being outside doesn’t lead to heatstroke. On those occasions, I’ve speculated that it would be fun to sit outside with friends next to a crackling fire and yell at the dogs if they seem inclined to look for lawn hors d’oeuvres.

After Lindsey and Rhonda gave us the chiminea, they explained there were rules, and Lindsey even found them online. Apparently, I needed play sand or pea gravel before I built the first small fires. Trip to Lowe’s–check. I also needed something called Butcher’s Wax to help seal the outside of the chiminea. Lowe’s–nope. Home Depot–nope.

Tim then suggested that I go to the bowling alley in the basement (Hi, Greg!) under the TimLair.


Timpire Lanes.

Now I don’t really have a problem with basements. But I fear bowling alleys. (Hi, rude nephew and nieces. Don’t think I’ve forgotten that night in the 1980s when you made me put on those hideous shoes, promised not to laugh, then fell on the floor howling when I…) I digress. Look!


Butcher’s Wax!

And I’ve done my part:

So now we just have to create an area somewhere on the grounds for our first fire. And I have to keep my promise that no starter fluid will be involved.

These are a few of my favorite things…

You want to hurt me for the ear worm that is my title, don’t you?

A few nights ago, The Brides, Tom, and I went to one of my favorite-memory restaurants, the Ambassador. I first went there with my friend John and some of his friends back in the mid nineties, and ever since, I always order the soup he introduced me to. It’s called “sizzling rice” soup. The server combines the crispy rice table-side with a bowl of steaming soup, and the resulting crackle is as fun to hear as the soup is comforting to eat.


Bad me, for letting the shadow of my camera strap fall on my bowl.
I didn’t want to reshoot it because Lindsey pointed out that the waitstaff was
lined up watching and laughing at me.
But the soup–it’s so good!

On the way to the restaurant, we passed some office buildings in Greenway Plaza that had the most alluring lights twinkling in their massive windows. Lindsey and I talked about going out night-shooting sometime. The next night, I was awake and bored. Since it was the middle of the night, I didn’t think Lindsey would appreciate a call. So I took a solitary drive around. That late, the lights were off in the Greenway Plaza building, but I got a lot of shots downtown. Word: Even if one possesses minimal photography skills, with a good camera and a tripod, great photos are possible UNLESS you are a woman alone in the middle of the night. Then you think, Am I INSANE? and get your not-so-great shots on the fly. Still, I’m pleased with several of them and will probably share them over time. This is not my most favorite, but ranks right up there because I love that I was able to capture the movement of the only two people visible in a radius of several blocks.

Since Tim’s stocking is not yet hung by the chimney with care (my fault, not his–I haven’t asked for it), I’ll delay tree photos. Plus I keep finding more ornaments to hang. However, you know it’s Christmas at The Compound when the sleighbells appear. Since I didn’t decorate last year, I didn’t realize that the 2007 and 2008 additions, which upped my total to eighteen, would be two too many for my little tree. I placed those two randomly next to others. Next year, I’ll have to find another way to display them. (There is a precedent: In 2006 they looked like this.) This year, they look like this:


I added the tiny ornaments to give them some color, because I remember 2005, too.

Bountiful table, cool kid

I got a call from a friend this week who was in London a couple of days after our election. When people found out he was from the U.S., they cautiously asked, “What did you think about the election?” When he told them he was ecstatic about the outcome, their reserve turned to enthusiasm for Obama in particular and the States in general. He was surrounded by goodwill and optimism during his entire visit, and he said it felt wonderful.

Contrast that to an early post-election article I recently read by a British columnist who thinks Obama’s election means we have now begun our relentless slide into decay and our eventual demise. Apparently the mixture of hope and skepticism are not confined to our side of the Atlantic.

Timmy noted in a post the other day something that I’ve noticed, too: His errand-running and such have presented to him a public that is hurting financially and unsure what’s next, yet they’re smiling, shopping (maybe for bargains or with a more practical eye), and talking to one another with an attitude of “We’ll be fine. We’ll figure it out.” That’s what some people call our arrogance, and maybe it is. But it’s also the determination, strength, and sheer refusal to be not fine that we’ve brought with us from many other shores and lands and drawn on for several hundred years. It’s not surprising when we bicker and separate and distrust, because we bring our differences from everywhere and always have.

But we also get together. We get together in our stores and our churches and our workplaces. We get together in our schools and our election polls and our restaurants. We get together in our bars and our sporting arenas and our museums. And in person, we very rarely talk to each other the way anonymous people insult each other in comments to any article or story on the Internet (and I highly advise not reading those, or you’ll lose all faith in humanity’s decency and literacy). Oh, you can see us on youtube and in the news behaving very badly, but there’s no excitement in watching people behave well, so that perspective is skewed.

I know many of the differences between me and the people I spent my day with yesterday, and I also know those differences don’t matter. I don’t think there was a person in the house who hasn’t reached out in kindness to help others and who wouldn’t do it again. Our views on politics and religion and government and some of the big hot-button issues are widely divergent. And most of us have been hurt by the economy in our jobs and our savings. We have things to worry about…and so what? There will always be things to worry about.

There will also be days like this:


A table overflowing because we all contributed the turkey and stuffing, cornbread dressing, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn, green beans, sweet potato casserole, deviled eggs, cranberry sauce, rolls, cakes, pies, and sweetened and unsweetened ice tea.

But if all any of us had to bring was bread and water, we’d still be there laughing and reminiscing and brushing away the occasional tear for the ones who won’t be there again. And if we sometimes disagree on the best course for the future, at least we all know what we’re working toward:

All the trusting faces and beautiful eyes, and the soft little feet that will wear the coolest shoes as they learn to walk through a world that we’re determined to make better for them.

I hope your Thanksgiving had good moments like that, too.

The nagging Aries

I know I’m early to talk about Christmas. However, holiday music has been playing in stores since before Halloween, so I see no reason for restraint.

First, this is Harley.

I’m excited because this is my new nephew. My sister met Harley on Thursday, the day he was neutered, and was allowed to pick him up from his adoption agency on Friday. He’s almost two years old. He came with all his toys, bowls, and bed from his previous home (where he was loved, but was reportedly a little too much dog for them).

Debby said that last night, Harley brought his toys upstairs one by one and put them in her bed. I think he knows he’s home. They’ve already enjoyed walks together, nap snuggle time, and–not really by invitation–Harley joined Debby in the bathtub. She says he’s sweet, energetic, funny, and has a ferocious bark–all qualities she wants.

It makes me happy that Harley has found a good home; his story could have been different.

I’ve been involved in no less than five conversations lately in which people have wondered why the media are focusing on the Obama family’s search for a dog. Frankly, I’m glad for the media attention, particularly since Michelle Obama has announced their intention to search for and adopt a rescued puppy. There are many challenges and stories involved in a new administration, and this one could easily be lost among them. But if one quality of leadership is setting an example, this is a good one to set. And actually, this isn’t an unusual interest; stories and information about White House animals have always appealed to people, particularly when they involve children. In honor of today’s date, I’ll mention Caroline Kennedy’s pony, Macaroni, a gift from VP Lyndon Johnson. In return for being a good companion to Caroline and a great photo opportunity, Macaroni had unlimited access to the White House grounds and received tons of mail from besotted Americans.

There’s a Presidential Pet Museum in Williamsburg with items, photos, and stories to preserve this facet of presidential lore. Thanks to them, I now know that:

• Millard Fillmore was a founding member and president of the Buffalo chapter of the American Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, and

• Andrew Johnson left flour out at night for a family of mice playing in his room during his dark days of impeachment.

I also learned that the gift of a dog to the Trumans caused controversy during his presidency. It’s rarely a good idea to give a puppy as a surprise gift. Many dogs and cats given at Christmas end up in shelters and pounds that don’t have no-kill policies. Black dogs in particular have a hard time finding new homes.

If you’re thinking of getting a dog or cat for yourself, please check local animal control facilities as well as rescue groups. Consider taking an older animal who seems well-suited to your environment, schedule, living situation, and temperament.

Avoid commercial breeders and puppy mills. Breeding is an activity best left to experts, who breed for optimal health and performance. Irresponsible breeding to make money is another reason animal shelters are full.

Some grim statistics from animalworldnetwork.com:

• For every human born, seven puppies and kittens are born.

• One female cat and her offspring can produce 420,000 cats in seven years.

• One female dog and her offspring can produce 67,000 puppies in six years.

• More than 12 million dogs and cats are euthanized in shelters each year. Millions more are abandoned in rural and urban areas.

• Approximately 61 percent of all dogs entering shelters are killed.

• Approximately 75 percent of all cats entering shelters are killed.

• As many as 25 percent of dogs entering shelters each year are purebreds.

If you want a certain breed, check for breed-specific rescue organizations. People should research the qualities of any dog’s breed(s) before getting one: their adult size, their most likely temperament, diseases to which they are susceptible. No matter where you get a dog or cat, if it’s unaltered, please, please get it spayed or neutered at the earliest opportunity. If cost is an issue, check into low- and no-cost clinics in your area.

I know Tim and I talk about our dogs (and his cats) a lot on our LiveJournals, but we’ve tried to be responsible about balancing our fun stories with the more serious ones: River’s astronomical vet bills, Margot’s traumatic incident with rat poison, the stitches near Rex’s eye after an altercation with EZ, EZ’s story of mistreatment, rescue, and medical challenges, Guinness’s and Rex’s clever ability to get into things they shouldn’t, like ham, Halloween candy, and coconut cake. Being a responsible companion to an animal requires thought, time, energy, and financial and emotional commitment. I applaud all the organizations and people who work tirelessly as animal advocates and caregivers. Many of my friends are among them.

Welcome to the family, Harley.