To me, these films never get old. You can tell it was recorded by a man because the camera focuses on things: buildings, cars, signs. I wanted to look at the fashions but the lens doesn’t linger on people.
Still, it’s lovely to watch.
[H/T: Small Dead Animals]
Yesterday morning I’m sitting by the front window, drinking coffee, reading my fave online blogs when I hear the POP! POP! POP! of a repeating rifle blast. I’m used to the distant sound of gun fire but this was uneasily close to home. I look out the window and on the hill across the county road I see Bambi’s cousin limping over the crest.
I run upstairs and wake up law enforcement Hubby with my breathless, “Gun fire…close by…limping deer…” Peeking over the bed covers, eyes half open, he mutters, “As long as they aren’t firing from the roadside, they’re not doing anything wrong.”
It was Day One of New York’s rifle hunting season and I was the first victim. I’m not anti-hunting. I’m just not used to hunting ACROSS THE STREET.
I’m a suburban girl who is used to this kind of hunting:
Yesterday, we had our first snowfall of the season. Didn’t amount to much but made the neighborhood magical this morning. (Note: I’ve been reading too much L.M. Montgomery when I use “magical” in a sentence.)
Front porch. This morning.
Two weeks ago I met this guy wearing leather chaps in 70 degree weather. Two days ago he became a local celebrity when he called OnStar saying he was drunk and didn’t want to drive home.
Yesterday he was driving by the house. Welcome to my neighborhood.
Listen to the OnStar call.
I grew up ten miles from the shore in southeastern Massachusetts. I remember two hurricanes, Gloria and Bob. Gloria knocked out power for a week and Bob knocked over our Catalpa tree in the backyard. I can still see that Catalpa bending over, nearly kissing the ground for a good three hours before the CRACK of the trunk announced its’ final death throttle.
Silly me for thinking that nestled in the hills between the Adirondacks and Green Mountains, far from Long Island Sound, that our humble abode would not be lashed with torrential rains and blustery winds from Irene.
So today, Thursday, I’m going to drive down to the local Hannaford’s to pick up water, batteries and food that doesn’t require refrigeration (just in case). I’ll be one of those earlier Yahoos and not the latter Yahoos emptying the shelves like a chicken with her head cut off.
You knew this would happen…I present to you those crazy boys from Deutschland:
What does a woodchuck sound like when struck by a 2007 Matrix on a country road in upstate New York?
Something between a SPLAT and a THRUMP.
From the Glens Falls’ Post Star:
Police: Aiming steak knife at boyfriend was wrong
A Queensbury woman has been charged with felony attempted assault for allegedly trying to stab her boyfriend with a steak knife, police said.
I just liked the headline.