Introducing Odin

Without any further ado, meet our newest family member:

Welcome little Odin!  All the way from Mississippi via Maine, Odin has traveled more in his 14 weeks than I have this whole year.

I've been watching Petfinder for Border Collie/Lab mixes for a few months now, and in early November, I fell in love with a little puppy called Tauras, a dead-ringer for our late, great Cooper.  Even Eric was impressed.  He took one look at his photo, looked at me, and said, "Where is he, and when can we get him?"

I filled out the adoption form, and the long, arduous wait began.  I cried myself to sleep on more than one occasion.  To say that I fell hard for Tauras would be an understatement.  It was like our new puppy was so near, yet so far.

I stared at Tauras' photo that I had by now saved to my desktop, and went to check out his Petfinder profile umpteen times a day.  He was part of a big litter relocated to Maine from Mississippi by a non-profit dog rescue organization called Helping Paws headquartered in South Portland, Maine.  Not only had Tauras piqued my attention, so did two of his litter mates, Teddy and Tristan.

Two weeks later, with no news regarding the status of our application, I dejectedly put Tauras' photo into my recycle bin.  At that exact moment, a new email popped up!  Our application had been approved!  We could have a puppy!  Yippee!

Alas, I was told that Tauras' foster family decided to keep him (who could blame them?) but that little Tristan, Tauras' littermate, remained available.

It took a week for Eric and I to coordinate our schedules so we could both make the trek to Maine together.  As we drove down, I had a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach, a sort of dread, wondering what I had gotten us into...

I had been emailing Tristan's foster-mom.  We bantered a few emails across the ether, and I had a good vibe about her and the care she was giving Tristan.  When we walked through the door, Tristan greeted us like long-lost family.  All of our our doubts melted away in an instant.  We knew we had found our dog.

I can't begin to tell you just how well Tristan had been looked after.  His foster-mom cared for him like her very own.  He sits, he's learning how to stay and come, he's great on a leash, and he's crate-trained.  He asks for the door, and he's good in the car.  He's used to dogs, he's used to cats, and he's house-trained.  He sleeps curled up beside me, and let me sleep in until 9:30 this morning, something I've had the luxury of doing exactly twice this year!

Odin, as we obviously baptised Tristan, is the perfect puppy.  We're over-the-moon in love with him, and have spent the last few days getting accustomed to one another.  The cats are on the fence.  While Tessie used to block Cooper on the stair all the time, she's not sure about this newcomer and spends a lot of time upstairs, using her best stealth-cat techniques to move around the house.  BobCat is taking things in stride and lets Odin lick his face.  BobCat has reclaimed his spot on the couch, and has no problem putting the young 'un in his place while tolerating his canine affections.

Capucine for her part, has already re-assumed her regular schedule, and last night, came into the bedroom as is her habit, and said goodnight while Odin watched her from the bed.  She keeps a watchful eye on him.

Lookit those pink puppy paws!  Lookit that spotted baby belly!  At 14 weeks, Tristan is already 23 pounds.  Cooper weighed 14 pounds at 13 weeks.  It looks like we'll have a big boy on our hands.

My little Mississippi Mud Hound, as I affectionately call him.

To say we're beyond lucky is an understatement.  Odin is such a good boy.  I've been wearing him out with long walks up and down the hedgerow, to the back-end of our property.  We've been to the pet store to pick out new toys, and have visitors who play fetch until Odin tires out.  Every day is filled with excitement and newness.

It's wonderful, seeing the world through the eyes of a dog once again.

It's August 10 Already?

I obviously don't roll on the same calendar as everyone else.  On top of being a lazy blogger, I'm also guilty of being a lazy photo down-loader.  I'm going to keep this post as picture-heavy and word-free as I can, or forgo sleep altogether.

So, hang on, boys and girls:

Our neighbour's wheat field was not lodged during the storm that hit on June 28th, where we had 20 mm of rain in minutes, if I trust Environment Canada's statistics.

The wheat in our field tried to right itself over the following weeks, and it did, partly.  Still the quality will be terrible, if not a total write-off.  You might want to stock up on flour.

A swirly cloud sunset, for your pleasure.  Our sunsets this season? Few and far between, sadly.

A twelve-spotted dragon-fly.  The first I can recall seeing.  Global warming, here we come!  We'll be feeding polar bears soon.

From dragon-fly to Firefly - the yarn, that is.  This wonderful Firefly from Classic Elite became the aptly named Firefly tunic.  I actually finished something.  In keeping with my latest (laziest?) tradition, I pushed this into my knitting BFF's hands.  Credit goes to Elaine who seamed it for me.  (I think I'm on to something here...putting the onus of finishing projects in someone else's hands?  Brilliant!)  The wonderfully sheepy project bag came from zigzagstitches on Etsy.  Now I don't look like a bag-lady anymore, toting my projects around in tattered grocery bags.  I also love this tunic so much, people around me are starting to wonder if I have anything clean in my closet these days, other than this sweater.  Actually, yes there is, and no, I don't want to wear anything else.  End of discussion.

How's this for a sunset?  July 19th.  (I procrastinate about posting, don't I?)  Better late than never.

Yet another storm rolling in.  We've been deluged this year.  This photo dates July 28th.   Another 20 mm of rain.  I think the weather's on to something of a roll, too.

When the streetlights go on at 4PM, it's because it's raining hard.  Actually, it even hailed.

It rains so much, that it's even raining when it's sunny.  We've had bizarre weather this summer.  Environment Canada posted 0 mm on August 4.  I'm here to tell you we got nailed by a rogue thunder cell.

I finished a scarf made with Blue Sky Alpacas Metalico.  All natural baby alpaca colours, blended with mulberry silk.  Oh wow.  I can't wait for it to snow just so I can wear this!  Just kidding.  I'm saying that in the hopes that we'll only see snow in December.  Like on Christmas Eve December.

I love how Tessie does her Superman flying imitation.  I call this the Supercat pose.  Both Tessie and Bobber are hefty little munchkins.  Where was Cappie?  Enjoying the great out-of-doors.  I don't need to tell you she weighs half of what the chunky-monkeys weigh.

I've knit 12 of these scarves and blogged about it not-a-once.  Katia Jordan's One Skein, A Stole.  I wear this thing All. The. Time.  It matches the Firefly tunic.  See what I did there?  I camouflage the Firefly with my Noro scarf!

Today I made mango chutney.  We have so much local produce these days, but I had to make mango chutney with mangoes from Mexico.  They were 3 for 99c at the grocery store.  I needed 4 to make 6-250 mL jars.  That's a deal too good to pass up.  Don't let the exhaustive list of ingredients dissuade you from making this.  It's quite the condiment.

...and because they're not all stinkers, here is tonight's sunset.  We've got warm, dry, sunny days in the forecast for the coming week, which is a nice departure from recent weeks.

On that note, dear readers, I bid you adieu.  Until next time!

May in Photos

RIP little Schatzie, the ancient thorn in my side.  We had to have her euthanized at the beginning of March, and somehow I never found the words to tell the blogosphere.  Her health started to deteriorate rapidly, and rather than prolong the inevitable, we made the decision to end her life in a humane manner.  She lived with us for 8 years, and considering she was 20 when we adopted her, she lived a good, long life.  I always joked that I gave her palliative care for the last 8 years, but in truth, the last 3 were very demanding.  We miss the old girl, though.

Somehow, going from a dead cat to a turkey vulture seems morbid beyond belief.  These birds are so big, it's hard to comprehend.  When they circle the thermals, they are immense in the sky, and dwarf all other birds.  I've zoomed in here - the astute will notice the light standard in the bottom right of the photo looks like it's that close, but in reality it's over a kilometre away.

I waited and waited for my swallows to return this spring.  Maybe Cappie gracing the beams in the barn beside the house didn't look like the welcome committee they imagined, because for the first year in over a decade, we're swallow-less.  I'm really, really worried about this.  We've had a hard spring so far, with a really big frost about 10 days ago that annihilated the asparagus and grapes.  As it is, it's the end of May, and for the record, it was 8C this morning, and tonight, the wood stove is on.  Things don't bode well for the swallow population with conditions like that.

Tessie's quite the character.  The three cats have found their new places in the house sans Schatzie and Cooper.  I call the new dynamic "BobCat and his Harem".  The two girls provide Bob with just enough attention, and while the younger Capucine pounces on Tessie quite relentlessly some days, it's a very harmonious, easy-going sort of peace that reigns supreme.  Tessie's our sensitive, independent one.  Capucine's boisterous and pats me on the shoulder when she needs petting.  And BobCat's staked Cooper's spot on the bed, and most mornings, I wake up to both Bob and the Cappers, staring at me from the foot-end of the bed.

Spring sprang suddenly, and at some point in April, we traded winter boots for sandals.  We went from heating to using air-conditioning in the space of a week, but then things normalized.  The heavy frost mid-May even frost-bit the tender ash leaves that had just begun to sprout.  In 12 years here, it was the first time I can remember something like this happening.

Capucine is such a regal looking cat.  Her personality is larger than life, and she loves being petted and fawned over, but only on her terms.  She has so many little chirps and meows, and is very vocal.

It's hard to believe Tessie the scrawny stray became such a chunky girl.  She has the nicest, fluffiest fur I've ever seen on a cat.  It's funny how I'd never, ever had a tabby cat, and within a year, we find ourselves with two.

We've had a lot of rain in May.  For the first time in a long time, the field across from the house is planted with wheat.  I think it's been corn for the past 5 years, and if memory serves, it's been wheat only once in the last dozen.  It seems to be the flavour of the year, since most fields in our area were planted with wheat this spring.  The fields are now verdant and brimming with life.

Speaking of brimming with life, this was our tap water about a week ago.  The town even had the gall of putting a notice in our mail saying it was perfectly potable, but there were some "clarity issues".  You don't say?  I don't even want to shower with it, much less drink it.  Since then, the quality has improved, and hopefully with the added rain filling reservoirs and lakes and rivers, we won't encounter another 5 month-long boil water advisory like we had last year.

And that's May, in a nutshell.

Here We Snow Again

It's practically not possible, but we had another 25 centimetres of snow yesterday, with more forecast over the next few days.  If I trust Environment Canada's statistics, we've had 270 cm of snow, or over 105" this winter, breaking a 30-year record.

It's winters like this that make us want to pack up and leave, folks.  We won't mention that it's March 20th, and the official start of spring.   Just don't go there -  our sanity depends on it.

To add insult to injury, last year at this time we were wearing t-shirts, and this year, we're wielding shovels. 

It's been a cruel, long winter.

The days, however, are getting longer, brighter and milder by default.  We know the figurative end is in sight, but I think we're all so tired, we feel like we're crawling towards the finish line.

Even the cats go outside in the snow these days, where they race to the barn so they can poop in the gravel.  It makes so much more sense than going inside, in a litter box that gets cleaned 4 times a day, doesn't it?  Mental note to self:  pick up poop in barn while it's still below freezing outside.  Warmer temps mean...well...mushy cat poop to sort out of gravel.  Truly, the things I do for these animals...

There are a few exciting new developments, though.  Eric made true on his promise to move the drill press upstairs.  It was gracing the middle of the living room, so you can understand my delight that it's now out of sight.  Of course it needed to be taken apart to be moved, and my fear is that it will lie in pieces for a while.

Same thing goes for the lumber we had stored in the living room.  It's upstairs as well, so we've regained this huge amount of space in our living room.  The possibilities are now endless!

This clears the path for finishing the floor downstairs.  We're not quite sure what we're going to put down in terms of wood flooring, but it will most definitely be hard wood, and sanded and varnished in place if I get my way.  None of that micro-groove, pre-varnished junk we have in the kitchen.  Whoever thought a micro-groove would be a nice way to finish the edge of a piece of wooden flooring should be forced into hard labour that involves cleaning out said micro-groove with a paring knife.  It's especially challenging when you have several cats that track litter all over the house.

On that note, I leave you with tonight's sunset:

And, to add credence to my incessant bitching about the weather, here's an early morning picture of the same field taken exactly one year and one day ago:

The astute among you will notice a complete and total lack of snow.

The glacier can recede any day now.  Any day.

We'll be more than ready.

Is It Over Yet?

Things sure have been mighty quiet at Shim Farm Central this month.  I had considered writing a post about snow shoveling, one of my prime occupations this month, or whining on about the weather, but we've "been there, done that" with a few posts too many already this year.   Still, I don't want to turn the calendar page over without commemorating February with one more post.

Today we woke up to more snow - really, what's new?  Snow.  That's what's new.  I'm not complaining, just stating the obvious with a tone of resignation (and slight despair) in my voice.  It did look glorious outside, the trees were all heavily snow-packed, and as an added bonus, it was hovering just around the freezing mark which is a nice change from -20C.  The power flickered on and off all evening the day before, but we didn't lose power, so there's that to be grateful for.

This has been a long, hard winter, and February is the jewel in the crown of the season.  Everyone's remarked on it, so it's not just a figment of my imagination.  Hopefully, spring is just around the corner because I'm about ready to crack at the seams.

I've played a rousing 2,540 games of Freecell this month, just the sort of repetitive crap my gray matter needs to keep firing during this time of year.  Of course, I could be doing infinitely more interesting things with my time, and although I'm already regretting the time wasted, I consider it therapy.  Yeah, therapy.  That's my excuse and I'm sticking to it.

(I did manage to get the ribber for my CSM up and running again, but that's another tome for another day).

I haven't taken a lot of photos this month, and they're prime blog fodder.  No photos - no posts.  But the other day, I snapped this one of Crappy Cappy and the Tessalator:

This is as close to a still-life as they come in our house.  Plywood floor.  Two cats.  A vacuum cleaner.  Tools.  Plus a suitcase.  That pretty much sums up our lives.  (And the green mallet?  Our favorite tool, bar none.  The base is stamped WOOD IS GOOD and that's all I'm gonna say about that).

Crappy Cappy (I really should stop calling her that, because she's anything but) is such a sweet, curious cat:

Just look at her.  You just want to take that fuzzy little face and squee-squee-squeeze it.  She's on the tiny side, so we're calling her a Vermont Coon Cat.  That's just like a Maine Coon cat, but half the size.  Bless that little Miss-Stripey-Pants, because she sure is a dear little cat.  Here she is gracing the drill press conveniently (not!) located in our living room.

Eric's still working on the proverbial missing link upstairs, namely the frame around the master-bedroom door, hence the tools on the living room floor.

Eric says he's going to make true on his threat to move the drill press upstairs.  That would mean we could theoretically finish the floor downstairs, even if the upstairs isn't quite done.  Actually, I'm not sure I'd qualify the status as "not quite done".  Let's just call it "construction rustic".  That's our decoration period, and we're probably stuck in it for the rest of our lives.

This is going to be the structure around the door frame upstairs.  I'm not even going to entertain the thought of nagging Eric to get the job done, because I of course have played exactly 2,540 games of Freecell this month.  Everyone's on the path of least resistance in February and collectively, we're no exception.

BobCat, for his part, has made a new enemy in the neighbourhood.  Some unfixed male cat keeps wandering around our farm, marking his territory.  Soon, very soon, our Havahart trap is going to be set up, and that tomcat is going to find himself at the vets for a quick snip-snip and that problem will be solved, too.

With the weather getting milder, Bob's main occupation is going in and out of the house so often I need to grease the hinges on the front door before they wear out.  The unfixed tomcat is not helping his case.

This is what the little bugger does when he wants to be let in, about 3 minutes after he's let out:

He puts his face in the window, and using his paws, swats at the front door.  With the melting snow, his wet paws make a "kwee-kwee-kwee" squeaking sound, alerting me to the fact he wants to be let in.  It's not at all irritating, no...not one...little...bit.

Upon coming in, he'll walk to his food dish, because his servant might have added a few kibble, and then about 27 seconds later, he'll go back to the front door and asked to be let out again.  Sometimes, though, he'll go to the front door, ask to be let out, but will then make a beeline for the patio door, which obviously annoys me to no end.  Or maybe it's Bob's way of telling me I need more exercise this time of year.  Thanks, I suppose.  Whoever said dogs have masters and cats have servants was very, very astute.

Bob's mellowing out though.  He still spends most nights on the bed hogging my hot-water bottle, and has only once woken me at 5AM  this winter, asking to be let out.  When he starts doing this on a regular basis, that's my cue to let Bob sleep in the barn at night.  This spring, we'll see what Bob likes better - the barn or a warm bed?

Right now, Bob's settled in on the back of the sofa, right behind my head.  His purring is non-stop and I'm grateful he seems to have settled down for the night.  Now I better go and fix him his hot-water bottle, and hopefully beat him at his own game.  If I make things perfect enough, he won't entertain the thought of going outside again tonight, and I'll enjoy a night of uninterrupted sleep.

And on that note, lest you fear I've completely lost my get-up-and-go, here's a February sunset for your viewing pleasure:

With a few hours left to go, I'm going to turn the calendar over to March, and rejoice like I've never rejoiced before.

Out, February, out!

A Tale of Two Kitties, Part Two

Tessie's turned into quite the chunky little monkey.  She's not even very food-oriented, but she is prey-oriented, always watching, always stalking.  Because of her heft, I can always identify her walking down the stairs, or jumping down from a ledge.

The other day, she jumped down from her perch in the stereo room window, and quickly made her way to the neighbouring window.  I could tell by her willful walk that something was up.  When I looked out of the window, I saw this squirrel:

To say Tessie was enraptured was an understatement.  She even brought Capucine in on the action.  Little Capucine, who hasn't even ventured outdoors since her arrival in August, is being taught the ways of the wild from behind a pane of glass.

The squirrel knew we were watching, and he wasn't even remotely disturbed.  He gave us the ole' stink eye from time to time, and busied himself by burying kernel after kernel of corn, much to Tessie and Cappie's collective rapture.  Forget industrious beavers, they've got nothing on this squirrel.  He brought over a half a cob of corn from across the street, and breaking off one kernel at a time, proceeded to bury them all over the back yard.

I didn't have the heart to tell the little dude he's burying his stash right over the septic tank.

In unrelated news, the weather "turned" today, with flurries in the forecast but no appreciable accumulation.  It's officially hard to ignore that winter is on the way.  As it was, our month of November has been glorious, and we've been truly spoiled by the beautiful weather the past few months.  If only it would last.  The Farmer's Almanac is predicting a snowy winter.  I'm not sure just how much credence I place on their predictions, but it's good for making tongues wag.  Personally, I'd be happy with a reprise of last winter, with our first snowfall occurring just before Christmas, and by the time we celebrated Eric's birthday in mid-March, we were outside in T-shirts drinking beer on the patio.  Truly atypical, considering many a times, we celebrate Eric's birthday while the snow swirls outside, or freezing rain falls.  I've got fingers crossed that Mother Nature will be easy on us again this season.

Likewise, every year is a gamble as we renew our snow-removal contract.  One of our neighbours has a snow-removal business, and we've always received the best service from them.  They're close by, they're reactive, and there's something satisfying about hearing the tractor in the middle of the night, and pulling the covers over one's head, knowing full-well the driveway is one less thing we'll have to deal with in the morning.  Eric sometimes has to go to work at horrifying hours.  While I'm an early bird, Eric sometimes has to wake up at 3:30 AM.  The thought alone makes me nauseous.  At those hours, every minute of sleep counts.  Having to take our tractor out to clear the driveway on top of going to work would be a slap in the face in the middle of the night.  Let's just say that snow removal is one of those little luxuries we afford ourselves, even if some years we have a handful of snowstorms and it hardly seems worth it.  Other years, the snow removal contract pays off in spades.

As we hover at -8C right now,  I'm not one to place bets, but it's nice to know we've got our bases covered for the season.

On Earthquakes and Blue Holes

Here's another, "I pulled up the blind on the skylight and this is what I saw" photo, taken this morning.

Last night we had another earthquake, our second in less than an month.  While not that uncommon considering fault lines run along both the Ottawa and Saint Lawrence river valleys and we're located right at the confluence, having two in such a short period of time does seem note-worthy.  Personally, I like years between earth tremors, not weeks.  One on October 10 measured 4.5 and was located near Saint-Hyacinthe, and the one last night measured 4.2 and was located near Buckingham.   The first one was a surprise at 19 minutes past midnight, but last night at 4:06 AM, it was pretty obvious considering the earlier one was still fresh in my memory.  Cooper didn't budge from his dog bed, so to compensate, I hurled myself out of bed in a panic and did what most reasonable people do - namely stare out of the window.

The rolling and rumbling seemed to last much longer than during the first.  By the time my heart beat regained a normal tempo, the rest of my night was fitful.  Every time a freight train passed by, I kept one eye and one ear open, which obviously doesn't make for the best quality sleep.  Also, the cats didn't get the memo regarding the time-change, so my wake-up call has been a bit early the past few days.

I've been knitting what I've nicknamed the Blue Hole Shawl.  That's like a black hole, but involves yarn, prohibitive amounts of it.  I'm in a love/hate relationship with this project, and while part of me would just like to keep knitting, the other part of me whimpers every time I pick up the needles to knit a few rows on the most interminable project I've done in a while.  I think it's time to cast off, considering about 450g of sock wool has passed through my fingers in the past month.  If we consider that 100g of sock yarn is 420 metres - then I've knit about 1890 metres, or over a mile!

The whole premise of this project was to be "random" and to "let go". Considering I have issues with those concepts - especially when knitting - of course I cheated.  I was pretty sure the Knitting Police weren't about to show up at the front door and arrest me, so I did exactly what I wanted. You're "supposed" to stick your hand in your yarn bag and knit whatever you pull out, regardless of whether you think it matches or not.  As to how many rows, you're "supposed" to pull a number between 1 and 8.  I mean, who even made up these so-called rules?  Why not just, say, roll a die and make 6 your maximum row count?  I don't think I would have made it beyond 20 rows without deciding what colours I wanted to knit with, how much of each, and in which order.  It was strangely satisfying to see little balls of wool on the table in front of me, and get excited about seeing green next to pink, and blue next to orange.  To assuage my guilt that I wasn't "letting go", I'd let Capucine choose the colour from time to time.  Problem solved.  She got excited each time I plunked my orange grocery bag down and pulled out the shawl.

The best part of this shawl?  It cost nothing, just time.  All of the skeins of sock yarn were left over from other sock projects, and hailed either from my stash, or were donated by a few of my knitting friends who made similar shawls.  I decided the colour scheme would be primarily blue, but with orange, green, fuschia and purple accents thrown into the fray for added punch.  After my lame summer knitting only neutrals, it was so nice to get back to something colourful.  It's unbelievable just how inspiring knitting with colour is, and how it gets the creative juices flowing.

So I think I'll cast this baby off, and get busy blocking the heck out of it.  I know I'll get a lot of use out of it this season, as colder temperatures descend upon us.  It's presently -4C, which feels like a slap in the face since our spring, summer and fall have been magnificent.  Winter, here we come!

Even the cats are feeling it.  I found Tessie and BobCat snuggled up the other day:

BobCat's not in the most relaxed position, and with Tessie's heft sliding down onto him, I'm sure it's not.  But BobCat is a gentlemen as far as cats go, and tolerates Tessie's, and Cappie's and Schatzie's various moods with good nature.  He wasn't in a hurry to move.

So with one more project off the needles, I can go to the yarn store tomorrow and pick up my order of Rowan which just came in.

The timing couldn't be any better.

The Week in Review

BobCat got sprayed by a skunk.  That's right.  We've got another skunk living under the barn right beside the house, and he or she is one of the biggest I've ever seen.  Maybe we'll have more skunk babies in the summer?

Thank dog for Thiotrol.  Bob now smells like flowers.

Bob and Tessie are very much in love:

These two are a scream.  Check out the patented simultaneous rear paw action.  I sometimes find them cuddling on a chair that is far too small for their combined heft, both enraptured in one another.  It's almost embarrassing, walking in the room and finding them snuggling.  One or both look up at me, somewhat disgusted, and I back my way out of the room, peeking in from the door frame, sorry to have disturbed them.

I saw my first robin yesterday.  This may or may not be a good sign.  I hope this poor bird hasn't spent the entire winter here, as they are sometimes known to do. Either our winter was warm enough and they did, or spring is around the corner and this bird knows something we don't.  Judging by the looks of the 15cm of snow we got today, I'd say spring's not around the corner, and maybe this particular robin is of the very hardy persuasion.

I also saw a ruffed grouse.   At first, I drove by, recognized what I thought was a grouse, and put my car in reverse to have a closer look.  He stood still and craned his neck, totally camouflaging himself.  I love these birds, they're just like transformers. You wouldn't have believed it was the same bird.  They are so invisible in the forest, blending in so exquisitely that you only notice them when they shoot up from the ground with loud flapping of their wings, heart-attack optional.

If the weather permits, I'm going snowy owl spotting on Sunday.  Rumour has it there's a pair close by.  I'll have to stake out the spot and keep my fingers crossed.  Eric saw one a few weeks ago, but he was in Toronto, and he saw it at the airport, hardly a choice area for bird-watching.  I was still jealous since I haven't seen one yet.  The other day, I thought I saw one, and excitedly grabbed my glasses, clutched my binoculars, and said a quick prayer that my dream-bird was indeed there.  Alas, it was a plastic shopping bag, hung up on a tree branch, moving gently in the wind.  The cruelty of it all.

On a completely unrelated note:  this winter, I thought I'd be ahead of the curve if I stockpiled dry cat food and cat litter.  Costco had one of these great offers - a 10 kg bag of dry Whiskas (the only dry food all our cats agree on) had one of those rebate coupons, so I optimistically grabbed 2 bags, saved something like 7 bucks, and hoped this would see Bob and Tessie through the winter.  One 10 kg bag fills the Rubbermaid bin I store in laundry room, and the other bag...well...let's just say I stored it in our locked storage shed, and periodically checked the bag.  It didn't SEEM compromised, until I went to pick it up and bring it in the house.  Yup.  Our mice must be the best fed mice in the area, because they stashed 5 kilos of cat food in no time at all.  The little buggers.  They beat me at my own game.

Uh oh, BobCat's Helping Knit again...

...and he's got his partner in crime he's trying to teach the ropes to:

Tessie is more interested in the camouflage aspect of my new Saga.  Yes, that's right, my new Saga.  I've knit another one, but this one is less "saga" than the first one.  Let's just say I still had a bit of momentum on from the last one.  This is the neutral version, and I'm in looooove.

I need just a day or so more to finish it, but it's coming along, and I won't stop until it's finished.

My knitting resolution for 2012 is going to stick, I hope!