Uhhhh… huh. This is kind of strange and I’m not sure how it evolved, but I assure you that there is nothing sinister going on here. I’ve had tails on the brain since the other day when Doodle announced that he would like a tail just like Hoob’s. I also have laundry on the brain way more than I’d like to, and today was, in fact, a good drying day. So, there you go. Next week: mice swimming in a sink full of dishes.
While we were at my parents’ house this summer, Doodle and I spent plenty of time “taking care of” the pond at the back of their yard. In addition to feeding the fish too much, Doodle also assigned himself the task of skimming any and all leaves off of the surface of the water. This task usually began by finding leaves to throw into the water so that there would, in fact, be something to skim off. That boy is, um… helpful.
Speaking of being helpful, now that I’m back in Ontario, I’m going to have to remember to make myself scarce on the weekend that my parents decide that it’s time to take the fish in for the winter. They have about six thousand fish that are transfered, annually, to a converted chest freezer in the basement. The hardest to catch are the scores of new, tiny, camouflage brown babies. Hummm… aren’t goldfish supposed to be able to freeze solid? Perhaps a science experiment is in order.
If it weren’t already painfully obvious that watching the bird feeder is prime entertainment in my household, I guess it is now. Seriously, though – does there exist some kind of bird/squirrel 6th sense involving newly-filled birdfeeders? I imagine this being one in a series of drawings documenting a knock-down-drag-out over the contents of the feeder. I’ll put my money on the crows.
Happy Thanksgiving, Canadians! Happy Columbus Day (still trying to figure out what exactly this is), Americans! Go eat an apple pie! I know that a lot of people get all worked up about turkey, but – hello? – pie? And what about the stuffed potatoes? The butter tarts? Did I mention pie? You’ve gotta love a holiday completely centred around eating. Oh, yeah, and the whole family, togetherness, thankfulness thing, too.
I have the bad habit of assuming that everything from my childhood is kind of universal to all childhoods. Since moving to the States, I’ve found myself blabbing away to completely blank stares more than I wish to admit. Apparently, sticking maple keys on the bridge of one’s nose is not, in fact, universal (believe it or not). And, I was surprised to find that the term “maple key” is not necessarily known (they’re also called “helicopters,” “whirligigs,” “polynoses (??),” and, more technically, “samaras,” btw). Huh. While I’m at it, might I complain about Americans not really having a suitable word for “touque/toque/tuque“? What’s that all about?
PS – I have no idea what kind of creature this is.
In honour of Fathers’ Day, I offer you another D&H PSA. You know when you go to the zoo/farm/wherever and hear parents imparting false information to their kids in the manner of experts? Yeah, I hate that. Fortunately, I didn’t have to deal with that as a kid, and I really try not to be that parent. Just admit you don’t know, people. Then look it up.
Coming soon: turtle vs. tortoise, salamander vs. lizard, alligator vs. crocodile, and, my favourite, monkey vs. ape.
Sorry for the lack of post last night. I actually forgot it was Sunday until it was too late, probably because I felt a lot like this squirrel looks. But less smiling. And more moaning. I’m not a big fan of the heat. If it must be hot, then I must be in the breezy shade beside a lake or, preferably, in the lake. But I’m not anywhere near my favourite lake, so moaning works, too.
I just noticed that the straw in this squirrel’s lemonade is not visible through the glass, and is clearly at the wrong angle, but it’s too hot to fix it.
Pool partaaaaay! I haven’t been to a pool party in… almost three years (but it was a really good one), but I did get to swim in a pool yesterday for the first time in… almost three years, not counting toddler swimming lessons at the Y, which sooo do not count. I would have rather been in the lake, but I’ll take what I can get, and, quite honestly, it’s been many, many years since I’ve gotten up the nerve to jump in on May two-four (one of my very favourite holidays*). Today is Memorial Day in the States, which is, understandably, just not quite as festive. I’m pretty sure that my neighbour drank at least a two-four, though.
I didn’t actually intend to give this pool a face when I started this drawing. Now I feel kind of bad that its so sad. Maybe I need to do a little cut->reverse image->rotate 90 degrees clockwise->paste on his mouth.
* I included this Urban Dictionary link to aid those readers who might not be familiar with the institution that is the May two-four. I do have to take issue, though, with the use of the word “camp” in the entry for “cottage.” Who says that?