…and his spiffy ‘real camera.’ Imma just going to put these here.
I need cheering up. I can’t think of a better way to do that than to post the photos I took Saturday. Because, awwwww.
I can’t resist smiling back when I see him grin so big in his sleep that a fang pokes out!
Sorry if the one above was massive – I think I hit the wrong setting just there. But as always, I’m impressed with the detail an iPhone can pick up. I can see the root of each individual hair, and it looks like his teeth are in good shape for his age, too…
Hope I cheered up anyone else in a funk, too!
I have to say that while the winter and spring have been windier and wetter than usual for most of Ireland, it has been pretty much the same old, same old around my part of Mayo. While Cork was sinking underwater and Limerick was blowing away, I had a plant fall over a few times and the empty rubbish bin went for a short roll about the back garden.
Its also not been particularly cold. Light snow a couple of days, frost in the morning occasionally. I’ve taken photos of the white stuff every time I could, but that’s not been often.
The second week of February, it snowed more at home than at work for a change. When I went upstairs to get out of my monkey suit (work clothes), I saw the tracks I’d left backing into the driveway.
Nearly perfect job I did, if I say so myself! It looked so strange I had to get a picture. Ears? A flower? What do you think? If I get some creative ideas I could try to make some art out of this. I need some inspiration!
I was going to put up a few more, but I think I’ll save them for their own post. Artsy-fartsy stuff, you know!
I’ve been holding on to these photos since summer 2012! I wasn’t in a blogging mood then, but it seems I’m getting back into the swing of things.
iDJ and I had driven out to Urlaur Lake, so I could go snorkelling. Unfortunately the place was jam-packed, and there were even two dammed Jet-Ski’s out on the water, rocketing around, scaring the swans and fish. Um, no: I don’t desire to have my underwater magic world soundtracked by whining engines. Plus we had Dogzilla with us, and she is terrified of children – of which there were many.
So we went off in search of something else to do. On the way, I got to experience my first traffic-jam, County Mayo style!
(Yes, we are geeks, and R2-D2 talks when you bop him on the head.)
Interesting that the cattle had nearly all moved to the correct side of the road after passing us – except for that one big brown girl who can just barely be seen on the left. She was all about the tasty road-grass.
The white/blue-grey one with the eyeshadow that was giving iDJ the stink-eye was bigger than our Mini Cooper. Yikes.
I was in the passenger seat, repeating ‘ohshitohshitohshit’ under my breath, while smiling like crazy at the experience of seeing a herd of cattle parting around the car. ‘Don’t knock the wing mirrors off! Please…? Gooood cows, niiiice cows!’ No damage was done to the Mini – unless you count the poop-splatters acquired further up the road.
I don’t have indoor/outdoor cats. They are indoor only. This doesn’t bother Lokii a bit; in fact he gets really scared if we hold him near the sliding glass door. Which we do on occasion, trying to help him bug-hunt. It usually ends in bloody shoulders…
Spot is a different story. I used to live in a house with a balcony and when I was out in the sunshine, Spot and his Good Dog Shade would come out with me. Spot also loves walks on the harness and car trips (if we stay under 30MPH/48KPH).
The problem with Spot is that he gets overly excited and starts demanding to go out on the harness. Loudly and often. When thwarted, he starts becoming very intent on escaping the house – and he usually manages it, no matter how careful we are. He will be outside in a fraction of a second if the door didn’t close fully. He can even move the sliding glass door with his arm if given a gap wide enough to get his arm into.
So, I feel bad a bit by denying him his fun, but I cannot bear the noise and the bad behaviour that always comes after a harness walk.
I did notice that he doesn’t misbehave when it comes to the car trips. He will cry when he thinks he’s about to get to go, and he is usually right. Because car trips only happen on the weekend mornings, you see. He knows it, he’s a smart little bugger. So I put my noggin to thinking of how I could take Spot outside and avoid all the resulting drama.
First: it needs to be a routine he can understand and predict. Second: I need to be in control as I refuse to let him dictate my habits. Lastly: it has to be fun for both of us.
When the weather is good, I sit right outside in my beloved Coleman camp chair and enjoy my morning coffee. I’ve started keeping the chair in the kitchen, all folded up, because I can’t fit into my shed-house anymore (iDJ has taken it over with his bicycle and big-ass Weber grill, sigh). Spot usually comes down with me in the morning and begs for attention, nicely and quietly. Why not combine a happy cat with sitting outside in my chair?
I set the chair outside, and called Spot to me. By that I mean he jumped into my arms (I must video this one day, it’s adorable). We went out, I sat down with my knees together to make a good lap, plunked him down and held on to him loosely. It didn’t take long before he made an attempt to jump down. I immediately got up and put him inside. Total outside time: maybe 1 minute.
The next morning, he lasted about three minutes. The next, over six. He caught on so fast! Soon I didn’t have to hold on to him physically and just made a ‘fence’ with my arms.
The weather has been miserable for weeks, too cold or too wet or both, so we haven’t been out together in a long time. Yesterday was lovely, as you can see – bright enough to make us both squint – but he hadn’t forgotten a thing.
I know a few of my friends here have cats that would love a bit of safe outdoor time. I hope this helps!
It may sound odd, but I’ve never met a cow in person before (or bull, or bullock – but I’m gonna call them all cows for the sake of brevity most of the time, sorry).
When I was a teenager in Florida, I had a country-gal friend who had a very tame bull. I did meet him once, with a fence in between us.
Until I moved to Ireland, I never got that close to cows again. They just weren’t common in the places I lived.
So I was thrilled to get an invitation to visit a breeding farm last Friday. I went up after work, in my already-grubby work gear. It wouldn’t matter a bit if I stepped in, or sat in, anything that came out of a cow. After 6:30 at night it was dark and windy and cold and the rain was coming down sideways… but none of that mattered as my friend takes excellent care of his bovine buddies and had them all safe inside the barn, warm(ish), out of the wind and drying off.
First I met the three babies. The white one (male) is about a month old, the two girls are about 7 weeks old.
Bizz is my friend’s favourite at the moment, and the one he really wanted me to meet. Little guy had been poorly a few nights previous, and my friend had spent two nights with him under a heat lamp with classical music playing, warm and calm. It worked, as you can see.
Can you see Bizz’s little tongue? Something I never expected: when you scratch him just right, he starts licking. Rather like when you get the sweet spot on a dog’s belly and the back leg starts to go, or even closer to how some cats get all ‘licky’ when you scratch their back at base of their tail.
So was the bull, Murty. See him there with the ring in his nose? The big brown gal on the left, Trumpet, was pretty aggressive – I wouldn’t want to meet her without the steel gates in between us! She was the only one in the whole barn that acted as if she wanted to gore me with her (removed at one month or so old) horns. Seriously, she has to be tranq-darted by the vet before he’ll touch her, she’s that bad. She likely won’t be bred again, she’s too dangerous and a bad influence on the babies.
We went around to the other side of the barn where the older calves were sheltering. This photo shows basically what it felt like to be in there with them: a little swarm of nervous 6-month old calves, circling and shifting, head-butting each other out of the way to put a safe distance between themselves and the scary new person. None wanted to get close to me.
We stood in their pen for a while, chatting away about the other cows, and their histories, personalities, and the difficulties and day-to-day of keeping up with a breeding barn.
I have asked to be on-call for the next birth, and how exciting would that be? Who needs sleep when you have a chance to see (and help) a calf being born?
Then I felt warm breath on my ankle, and a tug at my jacket…
I quite quickly had a new favourite: the little white calf, who has a black W on his nose. I’d mostly stopped trying to get pictures by the time I decided I really liked him (I got to scritch his little neck, too), so I don’t have a good photo of him. But maybe that is for the best, as the boy calves go from the breeding farm to the next property, where they will be turned into bullocks and eventually into dinner. It is what it is, and it rather breaks my friend’s heart to send off his favourites. He’s too gentle a soul for this job, sometimes.
These cattle are a cross between charolais and limosin cattle. Maybe a few of my farming friends can enlighten me on the breed characteristics, or how the cross is meant to be? Because except for Trumpet, they were all calm and quiet, even with having the surprise of a stranger in their barn touching their babies. Murty the bull was right there in a pen with a few of the girls, not a bother to anyone, and barely glanced at me. Of course I will put a lot of their temperament down to their caretaker, who never hits or prods them, and spends all of his day (and sometimes all of his night) with them.
I have so much crap to post, and have had so little motivation to do so! It’s sad because I know you will love that one pic of the cats being cute, but since when am I happy putting a post up with just one pic? Neverrrrr. So instead I goof off on FB or read everyone else’s blogs (and I’m massively behind on that, too).
I have to get these up here, as there are some pretty amazing pics if I say so meself.
Backstory; iDJ and I had just eaten one of his amazing weekend breakfasts and were finishing off the rest of the episode of Justified, or Marvel Agents of SHEILD, or maybe one of the old Voyager episodes… if you think I’m bad at reading blogs, imagine how much backlog of awesome TV I still have to watch. I don’t even have Grim yet.
Anyhoo. I glanced out the window at our mountain, and I see something awesome.
I acted as a bad roadie for his expensive cam (the lenses had fingerprints on them! And no soft lens wipe in his massive case! Panic panic panic). But while he was being all professional I whipped out my iPhone and turned on my favourite B&W Hipstamatic setting, and took the three B&W pics above. Then the damn phone decided to choke and died, and once I had convinced it that yes, it did have battery life left, I got the colour one with the regular iPhone 4 cam.
Another new thing I have now – iPhoto! So far I’ve not played around with it much. What I am loving is the “repair” function. What this means is now I can (mostly) hide the ginormous holes in the dog bed. The party responsible for making the holes is not pictured (yes, Lokii, I’m talking about you).
The editing isn’t perfect, but it makes me happier not to see all the green fluff spilling out.
I wish I could fix the actual dog bed so easily!
I got a new iPad for Christmas – the iPad Air. It does some new stuff. One of the things it does is let you go backward in time in your photo stream, until you can see all of your photos by the year they were taken. Itty bitty photos.
I just loved seeing this! I’m so glad that my life has been awash in colours like these. Funny how seeing everything you found interesting for an entire year looks both small and huge at the same time.
So many photos you know! And so many you don’t. I’m pleased that I’ve clearly been taking more and more every year.
And yes, now my photo stream includes a photo of my photo stream…
It was foggy Wednesday night, so much so that on my way home from work, I turned on the car’s fog light. This is a thing new to me since I emigrated to Ireland. It’s one blindingly red light under just one taillight at the back of your car, and it shows up really well in the fog. I didn’t have anyone come up behind me to test how well it worked. I could see that the cat’s eyes in the road behind me were now blood red. Did you know that the cat’s eye centre marker was invented by an Irishman? Now you do.
Anyhoo. The thick fog and 1° C temp meant that the car was covered in a thin sheen of ice on Thursday morning. It wasn’t a bother to me. I lived in Ohio for years, so a skin of ice is nothing at all. Snow deep enough to cover your license plate? That’s a bother.
But back to the ice. It was dammed beautiful from inside the Mini. I got in, sat down and said wow.