Look what we found while the computer was down!

Little Husband RJ at age four. He can't decide whether he wants to be a "dude" or a cowboy.

His little cap was a common sight when we were small. My Irish Twin Tommy wore one, too. It made his eyes look huge.

The neighborhood in the background doesn't look much different these days.

Get a load of the flannel lined pants!

Guess Moms always loved to dress up their kids. Wonder how they could afford cowboy boots back then? Maybe they were those cheap vinyl ones that children wore with costumes.

Husband RJ remembers the boots, but not the rest of the getup.

pb
Little Pond

HuggaMutt's new site...

Same old, same old, just a permanent home for the RiverDog. Very simple for now, but linkage will follow.

BTW, just found this photo while trying to recover all my lost files. We were both younger then.

Sigh.

But that was before we grew up on the Chemung River.

pb
Little Pond

So very saddened

My dearest, ever-loving BlogMother has suffered a terrible loss, and our world is bereft of half our daily kitty-fix.

Please visit and offer condolences.

Lord, we love our little pets too much.

pb

Little Pond

(BTW, we are on hiatus, due to a crashed computer that took away all our photography and much of our future book.)

Well, well!

Shoe thrower beaten in custody.

I hope he still feels it was worth it. After all, the fellow knows only too well what would have happened if he had thrown a shoe at the "President" of Iran, at whom he was also angry.

Let's not even think what would have happened if he'd thrown it at Saddam Hussein.

pb
Little Pond

Waiting for Fix Rite

Looks like a Christmas card, but actually it's just Little Pond waiting for the repairman. We're thinking that he is likely still just shoveling out, and we haven't the heart to call and nag.

pb
Little Pond

Night of the Long Knives, Part 2.

I'm superstitious about these things, but...

since MammaDog has already announced it, meet "Peanut." VeggiGirl calls it Cletus the Fetus.

Peanut danced for us last week at the first ultrasound.

We are expecting our little visitor the first week of July.

Expectant mother is sick every day, eating and exercising only for the baby.

Maybe I will be a grandmother, after all.

pb
Little Pond

Magic Jack?

Anybody out there know anything about it?

Sounds too good to be true.

All the paperwork looks to be on the up and up.

pb
Little Pond

So proud.

Patience finally won. I have my first really clear shot of an eagle. They don't usually pose for me.

Found some other stuff, too, but not so nice.

pb
Little Pond

We also got a lovely shot from MammaDog's first ultrasound scan of the baby, but my scanner is stubbornly resisting all attempts to make it function. The HP Photosmart C4250 All-in-One clearly is not.

One final shot

If you can stand the cuteness.Bubba watches in frustration as our boldest squirrel pointedly ignores him.

pb
Little Pond

Soggy Walk; Hunting at Home

Boy, if we don't get more sun than I've seen in the past few weeks, I'm going to experience dry rot.

Accordingly, I grabbed the HuggaMutt and stuffed her into a rain slicker, and out we went.Once we get past the initial disgust at the confining overcoat, we managed to slog around a good hour. My little buddy hunted as best she could, but we never saw much fauna until we went home.

More on that later, I hope.

Bingo! What a mess! Click here to go to RJ's Garden.

pb
Little Pond

Armistice - And Irony

I can see them yet, as they marched away,
So debonair, so brave, so gay!
I can see them yet, as they turned to wave,
The smiles erased from their faces grave.
And as I stood there, turned to stone,
The sun's last glint from their rifles shone.

I can still see my Mother, with face so white
And my Father, standing so still,
Trying to think that all was right,
Trying to feel like it was God's will.
Yes, we all tried to be as brave as they,
As my husband and brother marched away.

After many a weary month and long
Came the news, more cheering than the happiest song.
The whistles were blowing, the bells were ringing.
Everywhere people were shouting and singing.
"The War is over at last" cried they,
And the sad old World became hysteric'ly gay.
We looked at each other through tears of joy
And Mother murmered softly, "My boy, my boy!".

Happy plans for their return we made.
I tremble even now, as these mem'ries fade.
"Killed in action", the telegram bore.
"Killed in action"; weary brain repeated o'er and o'er.
Yes, the bells were ringing,
They should have tolled!
The sound of bells will turn me faint and cold
Forevermore.
My brother had died the day before.

Josephine Abby Lamb Baker

My great-uncle "Harry" Lamb never came home. He was my grandfather's best friend.

pb
Little Pond

Here we go again.

With our stock at 1/7 of its January 2008 value, there will be layoffs, right before Christmas.

This time there's a buyout offer. We have the option of voluntarily leaving and getting the same package. Most of us don't qualify for Social Security, and with the economy tanking, we aren't likely to find work elsewhere.

Past layoffs were based on seniority: new people were selected, it was temporary, and after several weeks, they could expect to return.

This time, though, it's severance, and the selection process is a different calculation. Whatever job they deem superfluous or too costly gets the ax. "Too costly" could include old-timers who are paid more than newbies. After thirteen years, I am an old timer; real old timers got it last year.

As my daughter, the VeggieGirl, noted: I am always on notice for layoff, so what's the difference? The difference is that I have been caught in several layoffs in my life, and we never quite recover. They lay waste to our lifestyle, ruin our credit, and in general, trash my self-esteem.

On the other hand, frequent layoffs tend to leave survivors glad to be working. Even if they are tough on the nerves.

pb
Little Pond

Why I am still glad I didn't vote Obama.

Yeah, I know: we gotta get behind him. Okay, that is not a problem. This is the first election in a long time that was really electric. I wanted my guy, McCain to win, and still believe that he was the best man, with the much more impressive political record and life experience to back it up.

Still, Barack Obama is in, and I not devastated. He seems a good guy, a little youngish to my tastes, but the deed is done.

Let the president-elect be on notice: half of all citizen voters did not feel he was the man for the job, and were not impressed with his ideology.

Mr. Obama has a lot to prove. He'd better rest up over the next two months.

----------------------------

I am dismayed by the anti-gay marriage balloting in California. How could they have voted down a law that the people essentially wanted?

Word is that the Church of LDS and other religious right groups pushed and shoved from both inside and outside the state. I can't say it's wrong, because only the Californians voted.

Andrew Sullivan, one of my blog ancestors, had this to say.

And afterwards, this.

Let's hope he's right.

pb
Little Pond

If you haven't voted,

...what are you doing surfing the Internet?



Get out and vote!