L.C. sent us this, with the comment that Stryder wondered if it was Photoshopped. I don't think it is. Then I do think it is. I think the squirrel fits so well among the puppies...then again, I'm not sure it's not. If you think it is, or isn't, for a particular reason, please set us straight. Meanwhile, the rescued squirrel is Finnegan, the pregnant Papillon is Mademoiselle Giselle. Photoshopped or not, it's pretty cute.
Today would have been Red's birthday. He died of multiple myeloma three and a half years ago, give or take.
This picture was taken when he was driving a tour bus for American Sightseeing in Miami. He had a beard pretty much all the time we were together, except for when he had to shave it for a job, like here.
Happy Birthday, Baby!
So last week, we were in New York for a meeting. My friends, Monica and Mark, and I were walking up to the Carnegie Deli. I was talking to them, and finally got to the end of the line at the Carnegie, only to discover that my friends were no longer behind me.
I looked down 7th Avenue, and they were about a block back, chatting with a handsome young many whom I took to be a friend or relative.
So I walked back, just in time to see them say goodbye. After that, the floodgates were open.
TIM TEBOW. Can you believe we ran into TIM TEBOW? Every time they mentioned his name, it was in bold lettering, large font. And believe me, I heard it plenty the rest of the trip.
Tebow was the first sophomore to win the Heisman Trophy, and Mark and Monica are manjor Gators, so they spotted him quickly. He was in New York for the Heisman ceremony.
And while they didn't get an autograph, they did get this photograph:
Go Monica!
No, this doesn't have anything to do with the R. L. Stine books.
Rather, it has to do with the Naked Cowboy, who was in his skivvies at about 30 degrees the other night. The link above is to a YouTube attestation that he can't sing, or play the guitar, yet seems to be strangely successful.
But the strangest thing of all is that it was cold as hell, and you could see your breath, and there he was in his boots, hat and undies doing his thing. Dang!
And the truth is: nary a goosebump was noted.
[Second and third photos courtesy of Shawn Lea]
An Aerial Vision of South America, by Robert B. Haas.
Photographer Haas travelled in South America for years. This beautiful coffee table book (not to demean it...it is meant to be a centerpiece) has over 100 aerial photographs taken in (or rather over) 14 countries. The perspective is wonderful, the photos are gorgeous--cities, plains, forests, lush colors, beautiful patterns, with commentary by Haas throughout.
He took the photos flying over the land in small planes and helicopters.
The book was a gift from the folks at White Oak. They chose it because one of their two new conservation species is the Andean Condor (the other is the Somali Wild Ass).
Got to the National Geographic to see these and more photos from Haas's magnificent "Through the Eyes of the Condor" photo exhibit.
Normally, I am anti-billboard. I think they clutter up our highways and make everything ugly. I know...they bring in revenue. I am usually happy to see those with quotes from George Carlin that dot U.S.1...they make me think and laugh. Better still are those that are only on the internet.
Dee Ray sent us a bunch of billboards. They are all Photoshopped, but hilarious. Compliments of Dribbleglass and Worth. I just spent a half-hour at Dribbleglass browsing their trivia, funny pictures and billboards section. A half-hour I can scarcely spare, since I am preposting this on Thanksgiving so that when I go to Melissa's wedding, I won't have to find time to blog. I wound up saving it to my favorites.
Worth 1000--one picture is worth 1000 words--is perhaps the best Photoshop site, full of contests and amazing pictures. Some serious gross-out Thanksgiving photos, if you're in the mood for roast long pig.
Meanwhile, check out the stuff below, and link to those sites, but be prepared to get lost for a long time.
Every time I go on a trip and come back, I find a delightful surprise, compliments of my cat/house sitter, Priscilla. Last time it was these lovely lilies. A few days later, they looked like this.
Eventually, all those lovely buds opened.
It's been ten days since some of my friends and I went to a reception for Mikhail Baryshnikov. I don't know why it's taken me so long to do a post about it.
Yes I do. I wanted to do it justice, find a day when I had lots of time to do it right. The problem with that is that there is no such day, and I just need to do it.
The reception was at J. Johnson Art Gallery. The proceeds from the ticket sales went to The Nature Conservancy, and most of the proceeds from sales of signed prints of one of Baryshnikov's dance photographs from his Dominican series went to my favorite place in Florida, White Oak Conservation Center. In the course of the evening, 500 people were admitted.
We got there early. The beautiful gallery was filled with Mr. Baryshnikov's photographs. We wandered in different directions, some to the open bar, others to look at the art work.
I was looking at art, when I saw a small group of people walk into the room. In the center was the master himself, small in stature, but a dominant presence. I rushed over and introduced myself and told him what a huge fan I am of White Oak. I was basically a blithering idiot, trying to think of something to say, while getting the attention of others in my group. He shook my hand, then graciously allowed us to get a few photographs. He was pretty swamped through the whole evening.
Through it all, wait staff wandered through the crowd with trays of the most luscious hors d'oeuvres. Shrimp and steak au poivre, mini crab cakes, and my personal favorite, ahi tuna on small cubes of watermelon, topped with a dab of wasabi. OMG, to die for! The catering trucks said "Catering by Liz" on the sides, so I knew the food was from chef Liz Grenamyer. Grenamyer was the owner/chef of our first favorite fancy restaurant in Jacksonville, 24 Miramar. It closed its doors in 2003 as she made the decision to concentrate on catering only. From what I experienced at the reception, this venture is every bit as successful as her restaurants had been.
At 59, Baryshnikov looked his age, and he was smaller than I'd expected, maybe 5'4" or so. But still trim and compact, physically not much different from the impression I'd had the day before watching "White Nights". Unfortunately, he didn't dance for us.
What a treat.
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