Pet Week Kick-Off Day

(We're kicking off Pet Week today, and the details of our new contest follow my blog, so stay tuned for details and come back all week for personal stories from all of us Cozy Chicks.)

A Little Dog Named Inky

My earliest memory is of a little black puppy named Inky. I see him in a few grainy black & white photos, jumping up to snatch a treat, being chased by my five-year-old self. We didn’t have him long; I think my mom was stressed from a difficult pregnancy and felt a puppy was too much work. (Thanks for that, little brother!)

After Inky, Mom allowed us to have cats, which she felt were more manageable. I carried that love of cats into adulthood, first inheriting a big yellow tabby named Tigger, then adopting twin kittens Simon and Caesar, followed by Cocoa, a Balinese, and Misha, a Russian Blue, and later Cali, my beautiful long-haired calico, who turned up at my back door, bloated and starving, obviously lost or dumped (she’d been neutered.) Cali came into my life a week after I’d purchased a small painting of a calico cat that looked just like her. I tried that with a picture of Johnny Depp. That was 14 years ago . . . but if you figure it in cat years, well, I’m still hoping.

As much as I’ve loved my cats, I see people walking their dogs and envy them that special relationship. I read stories about dogs rescuing their owners, and owners going to any length to save their dogs, and therapy dogs, and companion dogs, and I want that! But then I think about those cold winter mornings when nothing could pry me from my warm house and then I don’t want that so much.

I think I’ll always wish I had a dog, but I’m fearful that if I get one, I’ll always wish I hadn’t. What about you? Hate dogs? Own a dog? Wish you did? Wish you didn’t?

Contest: All of you who have dogs or loved a dog, leave your comment below to have a chance to have your dog named in one of a Cozy Chick's upcoming mysteries. Cat lovers, hang in there. We won't forget you.

Have a great, sunny week.
Kate

A PIECE OF THE PAST

It's no secret that I like to go junking. You never know what you're going to find. Last weekend I found a piece of Western New York history in the little town of North Rose (which is NOT in Western New York).

One of my favorite hunting spots is a little church-run thrift shop. Okay, I haven't found anything spectacular there, but they always seem to have something I need or, more importantly, want, and for not much money. Last week's gem cost me all of a quarter.

The Arts and Crafts movement was very big in East Aurora, NY back in the early 20th century, thanks to Elbert Hubbard, a writer, publisher, artist and philosopher, and his Roycroft Press. The village became famous for its artisan shops, and the beautiful Roycroft Inn.

The inn originally opened in 1905 and closed in 1938. (It has since reopened (1995) and has rooms furnished in the arts and crafts style, and a wonderful restaurant.) It's lovely, as is the whole village. (Which is also the home of Fisher-Price Toys.)

What's that got to do with me? I've been fascinated with the whole Arts and Crafts movement (we have a lot of books on it) and so I was psyched when I found a Roycroft Inn butter pat, made by the Buffalo Pottery Company, and dated 1925. Just to have a piece of not only the inn, but of the whole Roycroft past, is really cool. I have a number of other butter pats and have hung them with mini plate hangers. This one's going right over my desk.

What pieces of history are you pleased to own?

Off Kilter

Every once in a while, my world tips ever so slightly and I lose my balance, arms flailing, as I try to cope. This is one of those times.

My 15 year old son (16 tomorrow!) has been driving me all over town. He got his temps back in winter, but never had much interest to drive until lately. Now, under my supervision, he's taking me here, there, everywhere. Yesterday was his first time on the highway and except for his death grip on the steering wheel, he did great.

I have an older son. I've been through this before. I should already have coping mechanisms in place, yet here I am again, arms flailing. I was doing just fine before getting on that highway yesterday. But as I looked over at him, took in his freckles, the braces, the gorgeous golden green eyes, all I could see was him as a toddler behind the wheel of his red and beige cozy coupe on his second birthday (he even had a death grip back then).

Then, to make my balance that much more precarious, last night at his casual birthday sleep-over party, one of his friends drove himself to my house. In his own car. Alone. That's right, my little boy now has friends who have licenses.

When did this all happen? How do they grow up so fast? Why is it that a decade can pass in the blink of an eye?

I'm not sure. All I have to say, is that I better start putting those coping mechanisms in place (firmly) because my daughter (my youngest) is growing up faster than I'd like, too. And I'm afraid that when she starts driving (or, Dear Heavens, dating), all the flailing in the world isn't going to help me keep my balance.

If anyone has coping tips, I'm listening!

Loving The 4th of July

I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy and I just love this holiday!

True, it's not Christmas. We aren't gathered around a fire or reveling in family traditions, but there is a lightheartedness to this day that I truly enjoy.

First, there are the small town parades. The sight of kids pedaling decorated bikes and tricycles could make ever the crustiest curmudgeon smile. And at night, I love to watch those children whirling across lawns bearing sparklers - their lights mingling with the twinkling of fireflies.

And I think fireworks are magical. Whether accompanied my an orchestra or a chorus of crickets, they take my breath away.

Of course, I can't go on without mentioning food. At no time during the year do hot dogs, corn on the cob, or watermelon taste so good! I attached a photo of the cake I made for my kids' classes yesterday. It's not my photo, but my cake looked the same (just in case you needed an idea).

What are your plans for the 4th?

I Have My Rights Back. Now What?

It's been a long wait, but I finally have the rights back for the first book I ever wrote, Murder Passes the Buck, which is a northwoods mystery with Gertie Johnson. Much to my anguish, the publisher let it go out of print right after the second, Murder Grins and Bears It, came out. It had been gone a whole year before Murder Talks Turkey was published. Series lovers will tell you that's a big no-no on the publisher's part, because a whole slew (that's Gertie talk) of us like to start with the first one and work our way through the series.

Well, it's gone, has been for a year, which is the time I had to wait to request my rights back per the contract.

But it isn't gone for much longer.

One thing I didn't think about until recently was cover art. My rights for the content have reverted, but not the right to the cover. I asked for it just to see what they'd say. Nada. No reply.

So I'm studying covers and making note of the ones I like. I'm learning that I like bold, primary colors. They stand out for me. Here are a few recent covers that caught my eye.

Lisa Lutz's Spellman series is a hoot and the cover art tells you that. All of them are big, bold, and whimsical.

Dog on It: A Chet and Bernie mystery by Spencer Quinn called to me the moment I spotted it. I love dogs and love this cover.

So I want a humorous cover that makes a promise to the reader even before she opens it and reads the first page.

For research sake, chime in here. Which book covers are irresistible to you? I'm taking notes. Next week, I'll talk about my publishing options.

At the Movies

It's been a while since I've talked about some current movies, so I figured today is as good a time as any. I'll start with the action-adventure-thriller flics I've seen recently.

X-Men Origins: Wolverine was interesting enough, but was memorable mostly for all the scenes we get to see handsome Hugh Jackman attired only in a version of a loin cloth while he's undergoing this intensive surgery which transforms him in Wolverine. Of course, the backstory about his lost love and how that plays into the future was good.

I enjoyed the newest episode of Star Trek--or the Alternative Star Trek, as some call it. I was one of the original "Trekkies" and yet I found it very well-done and absolutely fascinating as to the new renditions of those classic characters in their youth. Of course, I'm a fan of J.J. Abrams anyway (director, writer of tv's LOST series). One of his hallmarks is the ability to totally surprise you. And he managed to do that within the "classic" confines of the Star Trek series and characters.

Terminator: Salvation. Not one of the best, but the premise was interesting, and I enjoyed watching the actors work. Also good, but not excellent was Angels and Demons. I read the book after reading DaVinci Code. They had to really cut the plot to make it fit movie length. And actually change some things.

Much, much better was The Taking of Pelham 123. That was excellent. Excellent story (from a novel), excellent acting (with several bigger names), and taut pacing which kept you riveted. If you have money for one action/adven /thriller movie, I'd recommend Pelham 123. It beats the others hands down.

Of course, I'm anxiously awaiting the very best adventure of all----Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, due in mid-July. The previews look great. Hard to believe those kids are getting as old as they are. I'm also looking for the new Johnny Depp movie, based on the life of John Dillinger: Public Enemies.

As for comedies---romantic and otherwise: A fun one was Ghosts of Girlfriends Past. My Life in Ruins was okay. Loved The Proposal which had a lot more going on than simply the bad girl boss and the greal guy employee (suffering). And I even plan to see The Hangover. It looks outrageous.

And speaking of outrageous----Borat is back. Rather his creative muse/cohort, Sacha Baron Cohen. But this time the character is Bruno, a totally "unique" Austrian fashion guru. The previews promise even more over-the-top outrage. Something to offend everybody. But I think that's Sacha Baron Cohen's intent.

What have you seen recently?

The B&B Nightmare

Have you ever recommended a place to eat, a movie to see, or a hotel to stay in, and regretted it? You know how it goes, you loved the movie and told all your friends they HAD to see it – and they thought it was just okay? Here’s an even more extreme version of that scene.

Close friends of mine asked for a hotel recommendation for Key West, so when I was there in March, I had a chance to check out several places, screening for the best. They prefer B&Bs, so my husband and I found 2 very lovely ones plus a hotel that was so outstanding, I had to include it. The Gardens Hotel is set on 9 lush, tropical acres. It’s an old mansion that is beautifully decorated, plus cottages on lovely garden paths. The pool is outstanding, and I’ve heard the jazz performed on the shady patio on Sundays is very cool.

Unfortunately, my friends unknowingly booked something that had a similar name (perhaps purposely so.) Upon arriving at The Gardens Hotel, they toured the property, were given a glass of champagne and a warm welcome, and were all set for a wonderful week – except there was no reservation. Looking more carefully at their email confirmation, they realized their mistake and took themselves off to the Bed and Breakfast with a similar name.

It was downhill from that point on. Their room was old and cramped, with not enough space for even a single chair. Just a bed, 2 tiny nightstands, and a dresser with a TV from the 1980s on it – oh, and a sink within arm’s reach of the bed, quite useful if you have the urge to wash your hands in the middle of the night. A mini-fridge sat below the sink, which was a good thing, because there was nowhere but the bed to set any toiletries.

The bathroom contained only a toilet and a shower stall, and was so small, the door had to remain open when using the stool.

My friend asked for a hair dryer and was informed there was but one – to be shared with the 11 other rooms. Same with iron and ironing board. Then again, there was no outlet in which to plug the hair dryer anyway, unless the mini-fridge was unplugged. The wooden blinds didn’t close all the way, which made undressing risky, as the window was visible to anyone heading to the backyard “swimming pool” a tub-like area big enough for about eight people to sit in. Breakfast was meager, no juice or water, and coffee was not available after the first pot was empty.

The web site was totally deceiving, too, making it seem like quite a fun, lush vacation spot, which to me qualifies as false advertising. Even worse, they have a 14 day cancellation policy, and a “no early departure” policy. They run the entire bill on the credit card upon checking in, which makes it difficult for anyone to cut and run after seeing their quarters.

If this ever happens to you, please note that you can dispute the charges with your credit card company. They work for you, not for the merchant. You do have a way out.

I feel so sorry for my friends. Who knew there were two places with such similar names? I wish I had. Have you ever had any hotel horrors? Recommendations gone wrong? Tell us so we can commiserate.

A WALK AROUND MY YARD

A couple of months ago, I got a new digital camera. I had a Kodak "point-and-shoot" but I wasn't happy with it. Not that it isn't a good camera--but I wanted something a bit more sophisticated. (In the olden days, I had a Minolta 101 and 201 I was extremely happy with. But those were the days of film.) I had my heart set on a Nikon, but the salesman at the local photo store talked me into buying a Canon EOS Rebel XS, and I must say I am not disappointed. It's a wonderful camera--and probably much more than I need. (So far I only know how to use a couple of its options.)

The fun of photography has returned to my life. I want to take pictures of everything. I'm taking a lot of shots of the yard. We've acquired quite a few flowers. The other day, a white lily opened. Now, we didn't even KNOW we had a white lily. But we did know about the yellow one and the common orange one (what my husband calls lilious vulgaris).

Of course once I started snapping flowers, I couldn't stop. I switched on the "close-up" function and snapped the yarrow, the petunias, the rose campion, the shasta daisies, the coreopsis, the sundrops, and my tiny, old-fashioned roses . . .

One of the features I love about digital cameras is the instant feedback you get. Don't like the shot you just took--delete it. And what I love even more, is taking my photos and "tweaking" them in Photoshop. Well, really, you have to if you want them to open on a website. Otherwise, they're HUGE and take forever to paint up for people on dial up. But you can also tweak the contrast and the brightness, the hue, color saturation . . . and of course the most important element--cropping them. The camera also sees what you can't. We're talking details so subtle, most times you miss them.

Pretty as all those flowers are, the flowers I am most interested in at this time are on the tomato plants. I've been nurturing my celebrity tomatoes along, and I even planted seeds from an heirloom tomato I got at the farm market last summer. Hopefully these flowers will go on to bear fruit.

Yup, a walk around the yard is a pretty good thing. What do you like to take photos of?

Money Tree

When I was young, I heard the question "Do you think money grows on trees?" more times than I care remember. Usually in response to me asking for more allowance or wanting to buy something that wasn't in the family budget.

Time's were tough then, as they are now. Seems like everyone's been affected by this economy one way or another, and there's no escaping mention of it on TV and radio or even in friendly conversations (or, cough cough, blogs).

As my daughter and I were driving to Dayton the other night to see Legally Blonde The Musical (you can read about our garage misadventures here) we were listening to the Mamma Mia! soundtrack, you know, to get in the Broadway mood (the Legally Blonde CD had been woefully left behind). I was caught off guard by the lyrics of "Money, Money, Money":

I work all night, I work all day, to pay the bills I have to pay
Ain't it sad
And still there never seems to be a single penny left for me
That's too bad
In my dreams I have a plan
If I got me a wealthy man
I wouldn't have to work at all, I'd fool around and have a ball


Not quite the message I want to send to my daughter. All right, all right, actually, I wouldn't mind her marrying rich--but only if the money was bonus to a real loving relationship and she wasn't depending on the loot to pay her bills and make her happy. I have principles, you know.

I do wish, however, that there were money trees, and that I had one growing in my backyard. There have been so many extraneous bills lately, between the new hot water heater, new tires, dental bills (ack!), and vacation coming up... It would be nice to pick some money off that tree and not have to worry so much about what will be leftover for the future. And wouldn't it be nice having some extra spending cash for those frivolous things (one of those cute netbooks or, ahem, a new car).

I know money doesn't grow on trees (pity!), but if it did, what would you buy?

The 6th Love Language

Apparently, I live under a rock, for I'd only recently learned of Gary Chapman's Five Love Languages. I read a quick review of each of the languages and in case you were under the same boulder I was, here's a quick recap (I copied these from Mr. Chapman's website). You feel loved when you receive one of the following:

Words of Affirmation

Mark Twain once said “I can live for two months on a good compliment.” Verbal appreciation speaks powerfully to persons whose primary Love Language is “Words of Affirmation.” Simple statements, such as, “You look great in that suit,” or “You must be the best baker in the world! I love your oatmeal cookies,” are sometimes all a person needs to hear to feel loved.

Quality Time
Quality time is more than mere proximity. It’s about focusing all your energy on your mate. A husband watching sports while talking to his wife is NOT quality time. Unless all of your attention is focused on your mate, even an intimate dinner for two can come and go without a minute of quality time being shared.

Receiving Gifts

Some mates respond well to visual symbols of love. If you speak this love language, you are more likely to treasure any gift as an expression of love and devotion. People who speak this love language often feel that a lack of gifts represents a lack of love from their mate. Luckily, this love language is one of the easiest to learn.

Acts of Service
Sometimes simple chores around the house can be an undeniable expression of love. Even simple things like laundry and taking out the trash require some form of planning, time, effort, and energy.

Physical Touch

Many mates feel the most loved when they receive physical contact from their partner. For a mate who speaks this love language loudly, physical touch can make or break the relationship.

It is important to learn how your mate speaks the physical touch language. Some touches are irritating and uncomfortable for your mate. Take the time to learn the touches your mate likes. They can be big acts, such as back massages or lovemaking, or little acts such as touches on the cheek or a hand on the shoulder. It’s important to learn how your mate responds to touch. That is how you will make the most of this love language.

I read these and thought, "I guess I need a 6th love language. It would be a combo of several of these. It would read:

Words, Work, Foot Rubs - You like words of encouragement, for your spouse to get his laundry in the hamper, take out the trash without being asked, and give spontaneous foot rubs.

How about you? Is your love language on this list?

I finished the first draft of Buzz Off and am taking the week off from writing. Now I have time for the really important things in life, like figuring out all those buttons on the left hand side of the Cozy Chicks Blog.

I saw that I could subscribe to get posts and comments. Not knowing what that meant, I decided to do some research. That lead me to find different readers like the one I selected, Google Reader. Because if I subscribe to our blog (or any other) I have to have a place to read the posts. Signing up took only a few seconds, since I already had a google account. Then a wonderful page of my own opened up where I easily accessed all my favorite blogs and news sources. From now on I can read them all in one spot. So I've been out on the blogosphere, subscribing to my old standbys and a few others that my Google Reader recommended.

Too Cool! If you read a bunch of blogs every day, this is the tool for you!

Then I noticed that the Cozy Chicks had 58 followers. Still in research mode, I became a follower (#59), but I don't know what that means. What is it and what do I do next? And what is Google Friend Connect (the thingee that pops up next to the follow button)? I know there are 58 of you with the answers, so someone clue me in. And if you aren't a follower, who wants to make it 60 followers?

And don't even think I'm going to understand what the "Share" button does.

They don't call me a late bloomer for nuttin'.

Springtime Still

Technically, it's Summer. The Summer Solstice was the other day (June 20 or 21). I'm sure some of you in the U.S. are already experiencing summer temps. But not here in Colorado. We're still having Springtime weather. Violent springtime weather, in fact. And---like we always do in the West---we send that weather East. Across the Great Plains and all the way to the East Coast.

April started as a typical Colorado Spring. Beautiful warmer sunny days, temps in 60s, 70s. Then, we had a Spring snowstorm. Okay, so we've had those before. Not huge amounts, but wet and sloppy. Then, another. Two big ones. Actually, three, but I left for the East Coast on April 25th, so I missed the last one. When I arrived in Northern Virginia, it was beautiful weather, really warm (upper 80's, low 90's). For one day. . .then our Western Front rolled into town, and the temps dropped and the rains came.

By the time I returned to Colorado May 11th, we were back in normal Spring mode: temps in the low 80s with gorgeous sunny days and flowers blooming everywhere. Except the crab apples. Seems those spring snowstorms came just as the crab apples were budding and killed the buds. I can't remember the last time that happened in the 21 years I've been here, but the oldtimers can. Okay.....so everything else was budding and blooming. I went into flower mode and indulged myself in my favorite mid-May pastime: planting bright beautiful annuals in my front and back yards----in my gardens, in pots big and small all over the yard front and back, in my brick planters, and hanging all around the back patio. I love being surrounded by the gorgeous colors and the delicate blossoms.

My neighbors were doing the same, of course. All of us in "flower mode." And we got to enjoy the fruits of our labors for a couple of weeks. June came, and the weather changed back to April. Gone were the 80's and temps stayed for the first two weeks in the 60's & 70's. June sunshine was abundant as usual, but so too was the rain. Every afternoon, we continued the April and May spring schedule of afternoon thunderstorms. That's okay, I thought. I remembered several Junes like that when I first moved to Colorado in the late 80's.

Then, the storms turned more violent. Severe thunderstorms every afternoon, with tornadoes being sighted in eastern Colorado locales. Fort Collins is on the western side of the interstate and nestled beside the foothills, so we don't have tornadoes unless they touch down on the far eastern side of town beside the interstate where it's flatter. But the entire eastern side of Northern Colorado is fair game. Last year, a super cell tornado tore through the little town of Windsor just ten miles from FC. Tore through is an understatement. It had a wide and violent swath that devastated huge portions of the town.

So----it was a little concerning to see such violent thunderstorms every June afternoon. April is prime tornado season, but we were still having April weather this June. In fact, Fort Collins suffered its own share of devastation, but not from a tornado. Hail did it. A violent and brutal hailstorm hit the 2nd Sunday of June. I have never seen a hailstorm as violent as this one. It lasted nearly an hour and the hail was the size of large marbles. It came down so fast at some points and so heavy, that the entire landscape was covered with two inches of hail----covering streets, grass, concrete driveways, every surface. Incredible.

But the worst was the toll it took on all of the flowers and plants. Devastation. It not only shredded and decapitated every single bloom off the plants, it beat down all the plants to two inch high nubs, or less. It tore off the leaves. Even bushes had their leaves shredded. Vegetables fared no better. Beaten down. I'm hoping that all my puny, sad-looking little bare plants will continue to grow----their roots are still in the soil. But the gorgeous blossoms of June are gone. Maybe we'll have a few blossoms in July. Late July.

Funny thing. My roses came out. . .well, smelling like roses. No damage. None visible, at least. And all of my rose bushes are blooming. Bless their little floral hearts. At least I have my roses.

What's happening out your way, weather-wise?

A Quick Trip to Cuba?

Down for a week in Key West,I'm hearing lots of talk about Cuba being opened to US travelers. Key Westers, also known as Conchs, are hoping this happens because Key West is just a short 90 mile trip, a shorter distance than to Miami, at 140 miles, and would make a great jumping off point. A ferry ride from here could make it a day trip.

This would be a novel opportunity for US citizens, though not for folks from other countries, who've been visiting Cuba for decades. I hear it's a popular destination.

Of course, there's always the controversy. How many Cubans have fled in makeshift boats to escape the dictatorship? How many have died in their pursuit of freedom?

A few years back, a Cuban Coast Guard boat sailed straight into a harbor here, the officers disembarked wearing full military uniform, carrying their weapons, and proceeded to walk down Duval Street (the main drag) trying to find a policeman so they could surrender. No one who saw them batted an eye. But then, if you've ever been down here, you'd understand why. I've seen men in pirate get-up with parrots on their shoulders, a man dressed as Uncle Sam, a man walking a pot-bellied pig, lots of "silver" men, men in drag, etc. I'm sure people strolling down Duval thought the Cubans were just more strangely dressed Conchs.

I would probably take a ferry and go to Cuba for a day to see what it was like, but then I'm the explorer type. I'm wondering how much interest you would have in going. If you were in the Florida keys and had the chance, would you go for a day? A week? Or do you think we should keep our distance? Demand that they become a democracy first?

And now, it's time for a slice of Key Lime pie. Yummm. Maybe a Margarita, too.

Have a great week.

Kate

Too Big to Cry, Too Hurt to Laugh

By Denise Swanson

My dad did not cry when his father died. Instead, he went out to the barn, selected the biggest wrench he owned, and whacked the heck out of the old tractor. His explanation to us? The choke was sticking.

He did not cry the year we lost the crops to drought. Instead, he climbed on top of the tool shed lugging an enormous hammer and tore off all its shingles. His response to our questions? Time for a new roof.

He did not cry the day his dog was run over. Instead, he ripped up a six‑by‑six‑foot‑square piece of sod in our front lawn. His reason? Mom wanted to put in a garden for cutting flowers.

These events all took place during my childhood and teens, but I remember them clearly. More for what did not occur than what did. As an eighteen‑year‑old I knew everything. And one of the things I was sure of was that my father did not cry.

He was a third generation, Swedish-American, Midwestern farmer, who expected bad things to happen, but was mystified when anything good occurred. Dad was prepared when his brother was diagnosed with cancer. When I won a prize for my writing, he had nothing to say.

I thought him a harsh and unfeeling man. We didn't have a bad relationship, we just had no relationship that I could discern. My mother and I were very close and somehow that made it worse. She would sit and cry with me over boys, mean girls, and disappointments. Dad would hide in the garage until Mom and I had come to our senses.

I hated living in the country and resented being raised on a farm. I counted the days until I could leave for college and had everything packed more than a month in advance. I knew my mom would miss me. I wasn't sure my dad would notice that I was gone.

The drive to my college only took an hour, and with the three of us working, I was moved into my dorm room in thirty minutes. It was time for my parents to leave. I had already been invited to go for pizza with a gang from my floor and I herd my parents down the stairs as if they were unwelcome door-to-door salesmen.

On the front steps my mother grabbed me in a hug and kissed me more times than I had the patience to tolerate. My dad stood on the sidewalk waiting. With a final wave I escaped into the building, only to remember that my purse was still in their car. Flinging the door open, hoping to catch them before they drove off, I found my dad still standing at the bottom of the steps, tears running down his sun-wrinkled face.

Our eyes met, and the realization of the enormity of what I was doing hit me. I ran down the stairs and hugged my father, allowing my tears to mingle with his.

Now, thirty-some years later, I’m happy to say that that instant was a turning point for me. It helped a self-absorbed teenager understand a little about the adult world and learn that just because someone doesn’t love you the way you want to be loved, doesn’t mean they don’t care.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad!

--In memory of Ernest Swanson 1927-2000--

PIGS!

Ya know, pigs get a bad rap. They're supposed to be slovenly, but there's a good reason they like to wallow in mud. It's protection from sunburn. (It's hard to take the cap off a tube of sunscreen when you only have hooves.)

But we live among human pigs. Every time I jump on Route 104 past the Veterans Bridge here in Rochester, I see literally tons of garbage my fellow citizens leave behind. (That's just one example.) I was parked in the lot of a very nice "strip mall" yesterday and a new car pulled up across from me. The well-dressed young man first tossed a cigarette butt out his window, and then threw a piece of paper out.

PIG!!!

He didn't want to dirty his car with his cigarette butt, but he didn't mind making that parking lot look like an ashtray. (I used to have an acquaintance who kept an immaculate house, but regularly dumped her ashtray in the parking lot of her very nice apartment complex.)

The next time you come to a stop light where there's a median, take a look out your window and you'll see hundreds of cigarette butts. The company I used to work for made "cigarette tow" -- the material that makes up cigarette filters. That stuff takes YEARS to decompose.

I don't mean to just pick on smokers, because there are plenty of considerate smokers out there, but there are plenty who aren't, too.

My cousin recently visited from England, and I shutter to think what she thought of the condition our highways. It's embarrassing.

There are litter laws in every community. Too bad not everyone obeys them.