Yes, but...

This is all I'm going to say about the Casey Anthony verdict:
The jury could not acquit on circumstantial evidence.  I only sporadically watched the "show" and never saw anything but circumstantial evidence presented by the prosecution.

Personally, it seems to me that it was the best job of stalling ever done to sandbag the local authorities.  Just enough to thoroughly corrupt the evidence.  So now we may never know.

But the jury did their job.  Same as with OJ.

Lay off, armchair justices.

pb
Little Pond

Mr. and Mrs. Merganser at the Chase-Hibbard Dam

Not just the mergansers, either.  Our local fishermen came out in droves to enjoy the shallows and catch a few bass.

pb

Little Pond

Bad dream, good ending

If a scary dream ends well, does that make it a good dream?

Last night I dreamed I attended some sort of somber function, and we had to check our belongings.   When I was ready to leave, I was given my purse.  Then the checker, who was a man, said, "We couldn't find your dog."  Never mind that I hadn't brought her along.

I was furious and frantic, and asked them to help me find Ellie.  They were polite but firm:  if she'd gotten out of the building, they couldn't help me.  I set out to find her myself.

It was one of those neighborhoods, mostly businesses and few pedestrians, that had seen better days.  Everyone was very nice, and kept pointing to different places she might have gone.  I went up and down the streets, calling and calling for her.  Nighttime was falling early, as it does in city areas surrounded by tall buildings.

In the end, I began to check into the alleys, and sure enough, just as soon as I shouted "Ellie!" she came from around a corner.  Then she jumped into my arms and I felt a flood of relief.

And that was it.  I woke and could feel the HuggaMutt pressed against my legs.

Here's the little heroine of my story, standing on a high river wall.  I'm afraid of heights and won't go close enough to get a good perspective.  Ellie is also slightly acrophobic, but it would seem that four legs make one feel more secure.  The water is some 20-30 feet (6-9 meters) below.

pb

Little Pond

Doe or What?

I got a series of shots of this critter Saturday morning.

Are we looking at a very young male or nursing doe?

The rest of the shots are here.

pb

Little Pond

Best (or worst) "Engrish" Comment So Far!

Do you give birth to a pet? I in effect excited when this article comes to my attention. To a great extent captivating:
[url=http://]How to be sure you are giving no greater than the finest for your dogs?

Absolutely nothing to do with my "Downtown" blog, naturally.  Bad thing is, I think I understand what they are trying to say...

Does it get any better than this?

pb
Little Pond

I guess these are some sort of weed, but I don't recognize them.  I was walking with Ellie on the riverbank and was stopped short by the sweet scent.  Anybody recognize these?

Double click on the photo for an extreme enlargement.

pb

Little Pond

Anybody?

Our precious storm orphan, Dee Dee, now has a pink belly, fairly bereft of hair.  You may also see that her leg is somewhat hairless on the inside, too.

She shows no distress, and just loves for me to stroke all the bare areas.  I'm afraid it is a sign of age, but never had a cat go bare like this.  Only on the underside.  And no other sign of hair loss any where else. 

Anyone have a clue why?

pb

Little Pond

Falling Behind.

While I am still on Disability, I have at least had the pleasure of playing my video games.  So much so, that I found a new cheat.  I made a mistake following a time-honored cheat and discovered I could double my pleasure.
I was so excited, I published it on my gaming blog.

Doh!  When I googled it to see if I comes up, it turned out that this has been discovered by many, all on the different platforms.  Final Fantasy IV is still being played by many, many people.

So even though I may sometimes get lonely, apparently I am never alone.

Such is the power of the Internet.

pb
Little Pond

What's up with all the goldfinches?

Got a bumper crop this year.  Just this week, actually.  Mostly males, too.

pb
Little Pond

Today's Fun Facts

On this day in 1910, Samuel Clemens (a.k.a., Mark Twain) died.  He was later buried here in Elmira in the Woodlawn Cemetery, right next to his beloved Olivia Langdon Clemens and all his children.  Clemens spent many summers at Quarry Farm on a nearby hill, facing the valley.  In fact, he would walk down into Elmira nearly every day to visit with friends.

Not so much Fun?  Well, Samuel Clemens was born the same year that Halley's Comet came into view of the Earth.  He felt it was a momentous omen for his life.  Furthermore, he stated that he "came in with Halley's Comet" and wanted to "go out with Halley's Comet."  He also said it would the "greatest disappointment of my life" if he didn't. 

You may have already guessed that in 1910, Halley's Comet made its last visible pass by our planet.

pb
Little Pond

Considering new signage

When I get a minute and a frame,  this is going by the door:

No one knows better than we do that 

pet hair is all over our place.

Don't be too shy to ask us for a 

lint roller before you leave.

We have dozens of them.

The Management.

pb

Little Pond

Duane E. Olthof and Dale Earnhardt

Two names that really don't go together, except this week.
  


Today Duane, my father-in-law, is being interred at Woodlawn Cemetery, Elmira, New York.  He is entitled to a site at the attached National Cemetery, but chose instead to purchase his grave in the regular one, so that the love of his life, Carol Kelly Olthof, can someday be placed alongside him.  They will lie together as long as this world will last.


The funeral was short and sweet, as befits the style of this regular guy and his wife.  Just two hours of visitation, and a short talk by his pastor.  Only then did I finally cry.  We all have been shoring up each other to get through these last five weeks.  Carol has not wept publicly.


Just a good guy.  He and I agreed on very few things, except family, especially the children and grandchildren.  Nevertheless, we loved and respected on another, and he will be sorely missed.


As for Dale, well, the 10 year anniversary of his death is this Friday.  After Ernie Irvan, he was my favorite racer.  I was working the night of Irvan's crash, and I remember handling his photo for publication and whispering "Please don't go."  He didn't.


By the time I worked on anything for Dale, he was already gone.  Dale's Number 3 is the only racing souvenir that I have:  on a belt buckle.


Racing goes way back for me, in a very casual, once-in-a-while way.  The Westboro Speedway was the local big-time venue when I was a teenager.  I went once to watch funny car racing and was astounded that anyone could use nitroglycerin in a car.  Until then, funny cars were simply collectible models my brothers built.


After moving to Elmira, New York, it was inevitable that Watkins Glen got into my psyche.  I have never again attended a race, because I do not wish to ever witness a fatal accident.  Still, I kept an eye on a few racers, Irvan and Earnhardt.  


I thought Irvan was dashing, and Earnhardt daring.  Now both are gone, Irvan from racing, and Earnhardt from amongst us living.  I am still brokenhearted over both, but especially Dale.


Here is a link to a lovely tribute to Dale.  Read and enjoy, and please remember my deceased father-in-law in your prayers to day.  And give a thought to the Intimidator on Friday.


pb
Little Pond

Time again for my favorite saint!

John Jones was featured in our local Sunday paper, and I can never get enough of his history!

pb
Little Pond


BTW, My FIL died this week and his obituary is in the same paper.  We are on the usual roller coaster, preparing to bury our dear patriarch.  More comments here.  Gonna be busy for a few.  pb

For all us winter shut-ins...

Frosted Morning

I know you all are just dying to see our snowy Upstate aftermath, right?  We did not get the huge dump gotten in Boston and other coastal areas.  

Just sort of pretty.  Click here.


pb
Little Pond

Welcome Winter. Yuck.

My first winter visit to see the GrandKids.  First a scary trip through the poorly plowed streets of Elmira, then a nerve-wracking ride on the River Road between towns, and finally, another scary trip through the streets of Big Flats.


A twelve minute trip took a half-hour, trumped only by the unplowed driveway up to my daughter's home.  I threw old Barbie (you may have guessed that she's a Malibu) into low and began the climb.  Not 10 feet up and we were spinning our wheels.  I rolled back and tried again.  Barbie made it up 20 feet.  I rolled back and got out to walk.


Nothing plowed, nothing shoveled, nothing swept.  I climbed the snow-covered stairs, stopping when I detected a shout.


"Sweetheart!"  In the next door neighbor's yard was a plow, it's driver waving to me.  My daughter opened her front door, looked at me, then at the truck next door, and burst into tears.


I had arrived just in time to plug the entrance to their driveway.  My latest admirer was her father-in-law, arriving unannounced to plow.


The kicker?  My daughter wouldn't allow me to go back to move my car!  She was appalled I had trudged up the hill.  So there I was, preventing the driveway from being plowed, and my daughter nattering at me that I shouldn't have walked up the hill, because of my sprained back.  Never mind that the snow and hill have nothing at all to do with my back.


I felt like a fool.  And now the drive will not be plowed until Sunday.


pb
Little Pond