Finally, a vulture...on Foster Island

And almost by accident, too. I couldn't see them clearly, so I shot them anyway with my zoom. It turned out to be what I wanted all along. Makes me wonder if I'm missing a lot of great pics simply because I can't see them well enough.

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Little Pond

Yay! Pretty Morning!

The last two weeks have not been good to Ellie. Despite the faithful administration of Interceptor, she turned up with roundworms. This was especially worrisome because that meant that Willie and Bree also had to be wormed, whether they were infected or not.But so far today she seems cured and energetic. We went to the Gateway area of the Chemung River, and found ourselves surrounded by Canada geese and local fishermen.

Couple more shots here.

River Hag was busy in the days before she came back to Little Pond.

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Little Pond

Just a thought...

What can we expect this year in Peking? Assuming the Olympic Torch actually arrives there.

Frankly, I don't remember such ruckus in my lifetime. And while I wholeheartedly enjoy the theater being played out city by city during the bearing of the Torch, I can't help but wonder what will occur during the actual opening ceremonies.

In China, itself, of course, nothing will happen. They will go on as usual. The authorities will, no doubt, efficiently (and maybe brutally) squelch any embarrassment and inconvenience caused by any honest dissent.

Elsewhere, though, the protests will probably intensify.

We've had Olympics in totalitarian countries before, lots of them. However, insufficient media coverage always worked to minimize any protests and their subsequent retaliation.

Coverage is now continuous and copious. The hosting country and its repressive policies will be laid bare for all the world to see. There is no place to hide this time around.

And that will be the best reason of all for having the Olympics in China. One might almost forget that its all about sports.

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Little Pond

River Hag braves Newtown Creek

It was almost a glorious excursion.

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Little Pond

Just one thing about Obama

I like him. I really do. He's, well, nice.

But I am old, cranky, and pragmatic, and nice doesn't cut it any more for me.

I want to hire someone who can do the job well. You know, right the first time. That's my chief complaint about our CIC right now. Didn't do it right the first time.

Obama needs experience, if only in the way of the world. He talks pretty, and that's nice.

But nice doesn't cut it for me any more.

Jimmy Carter was nice. Idealistic, sweet, yes.

And one of the most ineffective presidents we ever had. In fact, he's still out there making silly, inexperienced mistakes that sound like he never quite matured into his twenties.

And Obama reminds me of Jimmy Carter.

Clinton may be evil in petticoats, but Obama is nice.

And nice doesn't cut it for me any more.

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Little Pond

Note on April 1 post: Chesty Morgan was one of my nicknames when I was a teenager. She was a "nudie" actress and played Secret Agent 73FF in some racy movies when I was growing up.

I wasn't even a 36AA at the time.

Still am not.

It's been a difficult winter: the past month alone has been dedicated to being sick with a virus, and I have not been able to blog as much as I would like.

We have therefore decided to aggressively pursue the possibility of pulmonary transplant. Mine are damaged beyond repair, and the scarring has contributed to the constant relapses of bronchial congestion and resultant shortness of breath.

Donated tissue has been located and the surgery date is set.

A word about the donor, to whom I will be forever grateful: Miss Lillian Wilczkowsky, an immigrant from the Boston area, was a movie actress and a proponent of alternate lifestyles, who danced under the stage name C. Morgan. She was a uniform tissue donor, and I have been asked if I wish to receive some of her other tissue. We decided to investigate.

After a complete physical and full-range testing, it was determined that I could also become the recipient of her other tissues, which were ample. Despite the obvious risk involved, I decided to honor her memory by going for the complete torsal donation.

With new lungs and the other tissue, I will be able to pursue my dream of becoming a full time night-club dancer. In my case, of course, pole dancing is mandatory, because I can no longer maintain the proper balance for solo, unsupported movement. The addition of the donated tissue would make this difficult for any woman, and impossible for me. I look forward to strengthening my limbs and earning enough money for a complete myelin restoration procedure.

I'm off to buy a new bra and back brace. I will keep you posted.

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Little Pond