A Night on the Town

Mittens, the little clone of her mom, stepped out last night. Technically, she fell out. She (or her sister or her mom) managed to tear a hole in the screen at the base of one of the dining room windows and she went through. I believe accidentally although I can't be sure. She likes climbing screens and can frequently be found hanging by her claws at human eye level, or higher, in the front foyer. (When I confront her and ask, "What are you doing?" she just looks over her shoulder at me and slowly climbs down backwards.)

The front door and several windows were open because Rainy Season is over, despite hanging on long enough past its scheduled end to completely ruin any chance of seeing the last Super Blood Moon Eclipse, and temperatures at night have dropped to the point where air conditioning is superfluous. It's nice to let real uncanned air in finally.

I didn't realize Mittens was outside until she tried to get back in the front door and her sister, who also didn't know didn't recognize her and started hissing and growling at her through the screen. Mittens was already scared at finding herself out in the world, her sister's reaction didn't help at all, and when I tried to open the front screen door she freaked out and ran (stopping just long enough to try jumping back in the window which didn't work).

After securing Paribanour back inside, I left the front screen door open and placed some food and water in the foyer to entice Mittens back in. I figured it took the better part of three hours before coming out of my closet after her adventure with the paper bag and it might take that long for her to calm down again.

I spent those three hours wandering around in the dark calling, "Here, kitty, kitty," knowing full well the futility. She is completely unequipped to deal with the world. The most she's ever seen out the windows are birds and squirrels. She has no concept of dogs, opossums, hawks, alligators, coyotes or cars. I hoped she would stay on our property and hide in the nearest underbrush and, if that's what she did, she did it well because I couldn't find her.

Jasmine and Paribanour, meanwhile, were acting very tense and alert. They knew something was wrong. In the end, they started staring out the glass doors into the lanai and when I turned on the light there was Mittens . . . who ran again when the lights came on.

So I moved the food and water from the front foyer to the lanai.

Five minutes later Mittens knocked on the front door to come in. (She does that. The other cats, when they're in the foyer, just gaze longingly through the side window hoping to catch a human's attention when they want in. Mittens has learned to knock.)

At first she was a little skittish and the others a bit standoffish. She was still excited and had, I suppose, picked up a bunch of outdoor smells which unnerved the other two. Eventually everyone got over it and I was able to tell my brother a humorous story when he got home.

All the windows will remain closed until repairs are effected.

She Who Hesitates

Ours are indoor cats. Nevertheless, they like to go "out," out being the screened in foyer leading to the front door which has hidden gaps somewhere down in the corners that allow smallish lizards (and, once, a baby black snake) in. The cats know they can occasionally chase a lizard, although they haven't caught one in months.

Recently, Jasmine, the mom, has got it in her head that she is the one to go out first and if she is preempted for any reason will not go at all. She will saunter, trot and (very rarely) gallop to the door indicating her wish to visit the foyer. On having the door opened for her she then stops dead pondering the commitment required to choose here or there, in or out.

The kids, on the other hand, experience no such existential qualms. They hear the door open and come running. If Jasmine makes up her mind before they arrive they will happily follow her out. If she remains racked by indecision they will scamper on past as if this were their first invitation to an incredible adventure.

Which pisses her off to no end.

If she was standing, she'll sit. If sitting, she'll glare at them until we give up coaxing and close the door. Or sometimes she'll just look at us to say, "Good riddance to them, I didn't want to go out there anyway" and then walk away.

But she does care. Once in a while, when the kids are either entering or leaving, if they are in range, she give one or the other a hiss and a swipe of her paw. But she absolutely will not go out unless she's first.

The funny thing is: the deference she demands would be hers if she were just a bit more decisive.

In a couple of weeks it shouldn't matter anyway. As the temperatures cool down and the humidity drops we'll be able to turn off the air conditioning, throw up the windows and leave the door open while we're home.

High Summer

We raised the flag on the new flagpole on Flag Day even though the cement never set properly, mostly due to the continuing rains, and the pole itself wobbles a bit in the sleeve. Also, we didn't raise the flag so much as raised the pole with the flag attached since the pole is extendable but doesn't have a lanyard and the flag snaps directly to the fixed clips. Nevertheless, it is tall, above the lowest power lines so it was a good idea to shift it back a few feet, and looks good.

Flag Day is also my brother's birthday, so we had the traditional shrimp and scallops sauteed in olive oil and garlic butter with threads of red and yellow sweet peppers served over linguine, corn on the cob and biscuits on the side and apple pie for dessert. We were halfway through the meal when my brother realized the lack of lanyard on the flag pole meant he couldn't fly the flag at half staff if necessary but the old pole had no hoist either and that was never a problem in all the previous decades. If the necessity ever arises, he can just take the flag down.

The mango harvest is slowing a bit. The squirrel and birds and insects have had more than their share and a lot of the fruits dropped too small this year but we have a dozen containers in the refrigerator half a dozen bags in the freezer and still there are another dozen on the counter waiting to be processed. And that doesn't count the ones that have been given away or made into salsa or mango bread already. I'll be making two more loaves tomorrow to give to the nurses when I go in for this month's platelet donation Thursday.

We're having to harvest the tomatoes a little before full ripeness due to the rain which is causing them to swell and burst. The peppers don't seem to have that problem.

Every week my brother cranks the air conditioning down another notch in order to sleep at night. We started the season set at 83F (28C) but now it's sometimes down to 79F (26C) which can seem downright chilly. It's the humidity that's making him uncomfortable more than the heat.

Flag(pole) of Our Father

My brother recently bought a flag pole to replace the one our Dad installed when he and Mom bought the house.

What Dad installed could be called a flag pole only in the technical sense that it was indeed a pole and it often had a flag attached to it. It was a plain metal tube sticking ten feet out of the ground with holes drilled into it through which lines could be run and tied to the flag's grommets. The one my brother bought is anodized metal, extensible to about 25 feet, with a goldish finial on top and two preset snap hooks for attaching the flag.

Of course the snap hooks turned out to be one inch too far apart to mount the nice new flag my brother bought to replace the worn one that started this whole project so he'll use the cheap, lightweight, printed flag that came with the pole (and fits) until it fades and then drill a new hole for the lower snap hook.

Yesterday, despite 95F temperatures, 95% humidity and almost 100% cloud cover and thunder rumbling on the horizon, we went out to install the new pole.

Dad was a firm believer in over-engineering projects. In his opinion, the pyramids were done a bit slapdash. And so, of course, the old pole turned out not to be ten feet long but rather fifteen with five buried firmly in the ground. We finally wrestled it out with much cursing and sweating and dug a new hole about a meter further back from the street to avoid the overhead power lines to which the new pole, when fully extended, can come dangerously close. Our hole was not nearly so deep mostly because we used concrete to secure the base and not just earth.

I refilled the old hole with rubble from the new and made sure the shovel, carpenter's level, etc., were all put away so this doesn't qualify as a redneck 70% project. We'll refrain from hoisting the new flag for a few days until we're sure the concrete as set fully.

It never did rain although there were a few bolts of lightning later in the evening.

The Clockwork Calendar

The weather folks announced Rainy Season is scheduled to begin this week. So far the clouds have rolled in on schedule every afternoon along with occasional thunder but no actual rain, yet.

In anticipation, the builders not only put up the under-roof on the new house across the way last week, but also managed to nail down the tar paper covering and install the windows so the interior is mostly waterproof now (although there are no doors either on the house or garage). The interior framing is installed as well but I haven't seen anyone around in close to a week now.

Meanwhile, while we're waiting for the rain:

There are butterflies everywhere. Mostly sulphurs and zebras of various shades of black and yellow. I saw a beautiful copper colored one this morning, like a small, dark Monarch, that blended in well with the dead leaves.

We have several buckets set up along the front walkway, three or four with tomatoes and a couple with peppers. We picked a couple of cherry tomatoes already and there's a nice bell pepper that'll be ready in a day or two. Others are ripening and more flowers are blooming every day. I've already chopped up a couple of ripe mangoes and there are more turning yellow-red. We have several green ones my brother brought in but I don't know if they fell or if he just picked them unripe. They're starting to soften so I'll cut them up and see if they're edible as is or if I have to cook them. So far this year, they're all on the smallish side but, if the rains do come as predicted, they could still grow more.

The bucket of sticks in water by the front door, which is just one of several scattered along the side of the house, has come to life after a couple of years and  seems to be blossoming into frangipani. As a matter of fact, they all are. The bougainvillea is in full bloom as is the desert rose and a dozen or so lilies between the house and the walkway. And the new coconut palm and banana tree have both outgrown their pots. (The banana's easy but the coconut will have to be placed far enough from where people and cars normally go so falling fruit doesn't kill or injure someone or damage a vehicle.)

The only downside right now is that the clouds have brought humidity to go with the heat and so we've had to close up the house again after a couple of glorious weeks and turn on the A/C.

Update: Right after posting this the clouds rolled in, the lightning struck and thunder roared and the rain came pelting down in sheets so thick you can't see the road out front. Rainy Season, right on time.

Hardly a Creature Stirred

This was the most low-key . . . and enjoyable . . . Christmas ever.

The tree went up the week before along with the large Santa atop the bookcase, two penguins under the tree and a couple of large stockings on the front door, one inside and one outside. That was it. No creche, no exterior lights, no carol-wielding circus train. My brother did scatter some Christmas balloon figures across the lawn but never got around to inflating them.

We limited ourselves on the presents, too. Since my niece was the only one who sent a wish list, and since half her list consisted of books, I was happy to oblige her. My brother and I agreed to limit ourselves to only "stocking stuffers" which meant he gave me three small jars of flavored honey, a bottle of orange flavored syrup and a box of fudge while I gave him a case of beer and a bottle of honey roasted peanuts. We were both happy.

The cats, being natural born heathens and not, as we, lapsed communicants, received nothing. They were content to nest in the boxes and nibble on wrapping paper. Despite occasional manic bursts of running about chasing each other around and under the tree, they were (generally) very careful to avoid touching it and only a couple of the lowest ornaments ended up on the rug.

We had Christmas dinner mid-afternoon and in the evening I made about a gallon of split pea soup with a portion of the leftover ham. The cats turned down ham samples although I did catch one of them later gnawing on a piece of gristle she stole from somewhere. I now have pea soup, bean soup and turkey soup taking up space in the refrigerator and freezer and kind of wish the weather would cool off again. It feels weird eating hot soup when the temperature is pushing 80F.

If we can maintain this same level of concentrated placidity, 2015 could start off well.

There Is a Fine Line Between Innocence and Irresponsibility

And my brother crossed it.

Apparently, he's been across it for some time now but it's just this weekend that it finally caught up with him.

It's not just that he leaves his truck unlocked. We live in a very safe area of a very safe town. I also leave my car unlocked and, when it's not Rainy Season (or even when it is and the weatherperson is convincing enough about an upcoming temporary dry spell), will leave the windows down* as well. We seldom lock the house, either, even when both of us are away. No, that's the allowable innocence which comes with living here.

It seems my brother, however, has been in the habit of leaving his wallet in his truck. With his driver's license and insurance card in it. And his credit cards.

He could (and did) get away with that here, at home. But, this weekend he went to visit his girlfriend at her place down by the beach. The thieves didn't break anything (didn't have to) and didn't take anything except the wallet. The police took a report although there's not much they can do about it since the bad guy(s) probably had a few hours head start. My brother spent some time on the phone cancelling the cards so he's not out any money (which is the one thing he never keeps in his wallet, anyway) and the insurance company will issue a new card so his only expense should be replacing the driver's license.

And the inconvenience of having to pay for things with checks until his replacement cards arrive.

Will he learn his lesson, change his behavior, or will he figure, considering how long he's been lucky, he's got another twenty years before it happens again?

*Windows up on a clear, sunny day will heat the interior to the point where getting in will suck the air right out of your lungs.

Transitions

Well, we broke down and turned on the air conditioning. Mostly for the dehumidifying effect although it did get up to 90F (32C) in the house the other day (which was only about three degrees less than outside).

The cats don't like it, which is a little surprising since when it is off they lie around like furry little rag dolls and when it's on they wake up, move around, play, eat, etc. Their disapproval stems mostly, I think, because we have to run around and close all the windows and doors before cranking up the system and that deprives them of their favorite hobby, clawing through the screens.

We set the thermostat at 83 because, like I said, it's mostly about the humidity. We're not officially in Rainy Season yet, but we've gotten into a cyclic pattern of bright, clear mornings and afternoon/evening thunderstorms. Once the storm passes with the resulting humidity drop, night time is wonderful with soft, cool breezes and we turn everything off and open all the windows and doors again. By noon the next day it's time to close up and repeat. Eventually, as we get into summer we'll have to just seal it all up completely until fall.

Telling Time by the Pint

It's hard to believe I've been down here in Florida this long. The blood center at the hospital just sent me my seven gallon certificate.

At 8 pints per gallon, figuring in a donation every four weeks (next one is coming up on Thursday), allowing for maybe not starting right on the first month I got here and missing a few scheduled sessions because of either forgetting to stop my aspirin in time or complications (infiltrations, a collapsed vein, etc.), I'm still coming up on five years down here.

And the worst part is, I'm getting used to it, too. A lot of the redneck behavior is starting to seem more-or-less normal. I'm beginning to understand (although, thankfully, not yet sympathize with) the local politics. The endless procession of identical sunny days. 65F seems downright chilly, now, when the sun is behind clouds.

I may have to move back to someplace with seasons.

Immunized and Released By Order of the Judge

The County Clerk's office requires those summoned to jury duty to log in to the clerk's website the evening before the scheduled date in order to determine if attendance is really required. Out of curiosity, I logged in early and caught the requirements for last Friday. Numbers 1 through 81 were to show up Friday morning at the court house, numbers 82 and above were excused.

My number was 374, to check in Monday evening for a possible Tuesday call up. I figured my dry run last week paid off and I was as good as home free. Dutifully, I checked again after 5 p.m. for my cohort. The new instructions were: Numbers 1 through 891 to report. All higher numbers excused.

891?!

How many notices did they send out for today? I wasn't even close! I went to bed early, slept fitfully, got up in the dark and arrived with time to spare.

After going through security (slightly more efficient and less intrusive than the airport) I arrived in the large jury room which was hung with landscapes and already almost full. A quick count revealed fewer than 300 seats. The folks running the show explained that there were outside phone lines we could use, restrooms in the room and a cafeteria down the hall which they now decided to use as an overflow room. They moved close to 50 people down there and our room rapidly filled up again.

Just after 8 a.m., they began registering us by hundreds. They were extremely efficient but there also seemed to be a lot fewer than a hundred people in each hundred called. The man in charge kept repeating the phone, restroom and cafeteria instructions and asking if everyone had registered as some folks were still straggling in. One woman said she wasn't registered yet, but when she went up to the desk they discovered she was at the wrong court house.

Just after 8:30, they announced that at least one of the judges wanted to "get started early" and that the bailiffs would be coming down any minute for the first group. We would be assembled by our numbers and sent out with the bailiffs in packets of eighteen. When the first jury was assembled they called the numbers randomly so, once we were in the waiting room, high or low numbers meant nothing anymore. My group was the third or fourth called and, for some reason, had 25 in it. We speculated that was because we might have an important or controversial trial with a possible large number of challenges. The order we called was the order we lined up and left the waiting room and the order in which we entered the courtroom. The trip between, however, was akin to herding cats and required a third elevator when two of our stragglers missed the one they were supposed to take. I felt a little sorry for our bailiff who was an older gentleman.

We were each handed a questionnaire at the entrance to the courtroom and warned that the judge would go through it with maybe the first three or four potential jurors but, after that, the rest of us should just expect to rattle off the answers when called on. In addition to personal information (name, residence, occupational and marital status), it also asked whether we'd ever served on a jury before, whether we had family in law enforcement, and whether we or anyone close to us had been a victim of, or accused of, a crime. I was appalled to find almost half my fellow potentials answered, "Yes," to these last two, some with multiple incidents on both sides including, shootings, armed robberies, auto thefts, home invasions and one arrest for theft of chocolate milk. I hadn't realized I led such a sheltered life.

The judge introduced everyone in the freezing court room, including the uniformed bailiffs, the court reporter, the state's attorney, the defense attorney and the defendant, who was a young man looking very respectable in khakis, an Oxford shirt with tie, clean shaven and hair cut. Who knows what he might have looked like on the date of the alleged crime, but his lawyer had him spiffed up and he tried to keep an embarrassed "Hey, I don't know why we're all here, either, it must be some kind of mistake" look on his face. With some success, I must say. He was charged with three counts: On the 4th of July last, 1. Breaking and entering a dwelling, 2. Breaking and entering a conveyance, and 3. Petit theft (less than $100). So much for the important, controversial case.

The judge explained the general workings of the system and the legal definition of Reasonable Doubt and interrogated us in turn from the questionnaire. The gentleman one over from me really didn't want to serve and claimed he was biased against the entire system and didn't believe the state should even have prosecutors but should leave everything up to the police. The judge was exceedingly skeptical. I thought the guy was trying too hard and expected it to backfire on him. When asked if he could turn up the thermostat, the judge explained that the county works on some sort of Stalinist centralized HVAC system involving a large facility somewhere in the county resembling a NORAD or NASA launch control center and if the one guy who controls that is happy it doesn't matter what anyone else feels.

Then the state's attorney questioned us individually, generally on the theme of "Do you hold any sort of grudge against the state or the police that might prejudice your judgment?" (The gentleman one over from me claimed he did by virtue of a previous arrest.) He ended with an explanation of the minimum he had to prove in the case using a hamburger analogy (if the judge defines a hamburger as bun, patty and ketchup, the fact that you prefer bacon, cheese and mushrooms is irrelevant as long as the prosecution provides a bun, patty and ketchup) which was unfortunate as it was getting on toward noon and breakfast had been a good seven hours ago.

The defense attorney then took his turn questioning us. He had fewer questions for select people but ended by expanding on the DA's hamburger, explaining that even if the state did give us our bacon, cheese and mushrooms, if they left off the ketchup we must acquit. I think even the bailiffs were salivating at that point.

We were ushered out of the court room while they made their selection, which took less than half the time they warned us it would, and then back in again to hear the results. Seven jurors were chosen, four white women, two white and one black men. No explanation was given for their selection. They were sat down in the jury box, sworn in then and there with promises to "truly and faithfully try" right out of Gilbert and Sullivan's Trial by Jury, and the rest of us were sent on our merry ways with the declaration from the judge that we were "immunized from this date for the next 364 days" from any further summons to duty.

We broke out of there into the hot sunlight like kids on the last day of school. I hope the kid really is innocent of the charges. I'll have to check the newspaper over the next few days.

Dry Run, With Scenic Benefits

I went for a drive this morning, testing the timing and directions in case I really do have to show up at the county courthouse next Tuesday for jury duty. The instructions say to call Monday evening after 5p.m. to find out if my number's been called, and it may not be in which case I'm apparently off the hook, but if it is I'm supposed to be there at 8a.m. and I sure don't want to get lost or be delayed by rush hour traffic on the way.

I left the house later than I'd intended and without the written directions on the notice itself and missed a turn I know I should have taken, although the route I took seemed not to take any longer and may, in fact, be a viable alternative, and still managed to get there with time to spare. Frankly, I expected a lot more traffic for the middle of rush hour. The only really annoying part of the trip was driving directly into the sunrise.

On the return trip, of course, I had the road pretty much all to myself. The sun was at my back, the temperature was rising through the seventies on its way to a predicted 86F (eat your hearts out everyone else in the continental deepfreeze), the Mexican clover is in full bloom, coating fields and lawns in its pale purple imitation snowfall, the construction guys have moved noticeably along in their sidewalk building although I remain confident in my prediction we will not see them at our place until well after New Year's, and the local construction-related speed trap is up and running (fines are double for speeding in a work zone when workers are working, which is all the incentive the city cops need). It's a good day.

And the fact that I took the time to ensure my readiness for jury duty probably means I won't be called after all.

In the Fullness of Time

This weekend my brother planted the orange tree I gave him.

For Christmas.

The poor thing has been sitting in its pot either in the lanai or out in the back yard since December 26. Who knows how long it sat in the nursery before that. (Best guess: Not nearly as long.)

At first he wanted to wait for the weather to warm up, which made sense. It would do no good to plant it if there was a chance of a freeze. Then, for a long time after any possibility of a freeze had passed, I don't know what the excuse was except the redneck tendency to never quite finish (or start) any project. At first, he said he didn't know where he wanted to put it. Later it was too hot to work outside (frequently true), then too rainy (sometimes true). Then he needed to buy fertilizer first. That took a month or so to get around to. Then he discovered irrigation pipes tangled in the roots of the (stunted) lemon tree which he originally intended to dig up and replace with the orange.

Yesterday, as I was looking out the sliding door to the lanai, I noticed the orange tree was no longer parked next to the lemon but was back in the far corner of our property past the smaller of our coconut palms. And it was in the ground. And while I was looking my brother took a gallon of water out to it. Knowing his green thumb, it will probably thrive. Of course, the tools he used are still stuck in the ground next to the tree and will be until they are eventually needed somewhere else.

I hadn't said aloud that I would never by him another plant again, but maybe he sensed it anyway.

And maybe I will reconsider.

Temperature Inversions

Now that we're officially into summer the water in the taps switches temperature. Cold runs hot and hot runs cold.

Technically, the hot water only runs cold until the water from the heater pushes the water that's been cooling down in the insulated piping through, then it warms up again. And, technically, the cold water only runs hot until the water from the outside (buried) pipes pushes the water that's been heating up in the uninsulated piping through but, until then the water from the "cold" tap can easily get over 115F. Even when the cold water finally cools down it's only to room temperature and never anywhere near the brain-achingly delicious New England well water I grew up with.

This is because our house is built on a solid concrete slab. Our pipes, once they get to the house, do not (can not) run underground but rise up and travel through the attic/crawl space and then down through the walls to the various taps. The attic with the merciless Florida summer sun beating down on it. The hot water pipes are insulated to keep the heat in which slows but does not prevent heat loss but also slows heat gain. The cold water pipes, being uninsulated absorb the full effects.

This is a common situation down here, although frequently an unpleasant surprise to visitors and new residents. I doubt any homes in the area have basements or cellars in which to place utilities. We're too close to sea level and the water table is too high.

The cats haven't figured out what to do with the ice cubes in their water dish, yet.

But Don't Panic

It's that time of year when the local and state authorities issue their warnings about the dangers of the great outdoors. Hurricanes, floods (June is Flood Awareness Month), mosquitoes (Seriously, 48 different species?! Including eleven that are unique to here?), toxic algae, poisonous spiders and snakes, alligators and sharks.

And now the best of all: brain eating amoebas!

O.K., they're very rare. But of the 128 known cases in the U.S. only one person has survived. They live in warm fresh water including possible drinking sources (3 people were infected using neti cups) and climb up through your nose into your brain where they feast on the gray goo behind your forehead.

I've never even heard of these things before this week.

Welcome to paradise.

Schadenfreude. Warm, Sunny Schadenfreude

I'm sitting here with all the windows and doors open, a warm breeze wafting through from the 80+ degree sunshine outside, watching the Weather Channel folks going all weak in the knees as they swoon over Nemo and wondering if I should feel sympathy for my friends posting snow depths and pictures of the building snowpocalypse on Face Book.

Probably.

Turnings

I can tell that fall is here even though our days never get as long in the summer or short in the winter as they do further north.

The temperature no longer goes into the mid- to high-90s but stops short around 85 or so with high 70s in the evening. Soon we'll be able to turn off the air conditioner and open up the windows again.

The humidity is dropping as well although we do get the occasional evening rain still. (Another reason the windows are not open, yet.)

Leaves don't turn colors down here but palm fronds have been dropping like crazy littering lawns all around. I had one fall right next to me while I was leaving the library yesterday. They're not as heavy or dangerous as a falling branch from a traditional tree but they're not just leaves, either.

Most tellingly, the price of gasoline has just dropped four cents per gallon in the last two days.

Bartleby Supreme

I have been assigned my purpose in life. It is to be Footstool-to-the-Cat. The cat assigned it.

When I am not around, she lies on the entrance rug near both the front door and her food and water. But whenever I sit down, every time I sit down, she sits up, decides whether or not I intend to stay put for a while and, if she thinks the answer is yes, jumps up, runs over to me and plops herself down on my feet. Not at my feet, on.

Shoes, socks, bare feet. Makes no difference. If only one foot is available, she'll wrap herself around my ankle. If both are within reach, she'll settle her belly across the one and hug the other with her fore paws nestling her chin on my instep. And there she will stay until I have to move.

She's not a big cat but she nonetheless generates an impressive amount of heat. In the winter this might be quite comfortable but right now, with outside temperatures in the mid-90s and the thermostat set at 80, 45 minutes is about my maximum tolerance.

I do have to admit the purring has a nice subtle massaging effect.

And, as far as Bartleby is concerned, my life now has meaning.

Bartleby Victorious

Bartleby's subtle and clever plan of inaction has come to successful fruition and she is proud of herself for it.

Bartleby is now an indoor cat.

Most of the recent monsoons have been accompanied by thunder and lightning and a couple of the cells have passed directly over us with literally house-shaking consequences. Unlike, say, a dog which is not ashamed to admit its fear of natural forces, Bartleby pretended not to be afraid of the storms. It was, of course, sheer coincidence that, during said storms, the only comfortable place to take a nap was wedged tightly in behind the slider-rocker in the lanai. (Any other time she'd be sprawled across the highest point she could find: chair back, table top, etc.)

My brother took pity upon her and got into the habit of bringing her into his room during the worst of it and then kicking her outside again afterward. (Actually, I was the first guilty party, bringing her in during the tornado warning.)

Last week, however, something happened. My brother had set up a fancy enclosed litter box for her in his room along with food and water and during a particularly vicious storm had let her stay with him. This suited her at first, but now she refuses to go into his room so I have brought her food and water into the hall outside his door. Meanwhile, Bartleby has appropriated a small throw rug in the middle of the walkway between the kitchen and living room where she sleeps 18 hours a day forcing us to take giant steps over her.
Pretty much her sole activity consists of sticking her head in the refrigerator and enjoying the cold air whenever the opportunity presents itself.

Actually, now that she is confident she can come inside whenever she wants, she is more willing to go outside. Yesterday, she knocked on the glass door of the lanai to go out and half an hour later came to the front door to be let in again. Despite the heat and humidity she's taken to sleeping under my car again which is pretty much full circle from when we found her.

Except now she's confident she has finally successfully trained us to her bidding.

Turtles all the Way Down

It seems we're having a banner season on sea turtles this year. They're all over the beaches in numbers no one has seen before. There's some concern it may just be an early season due to the warm (actually non-existent) winter and consequently warmer-earlier-than-usual waters but there are indications it really may be a bumper crop coming in.

Miscellanea, (Mostly Meteorlogical)

Looks like Rainy Season is finally officially here. Haven't seen the sun since before the transit of Venus which we didn't see either. It rains at least once every day now, sometimes in the morning sometimes in the evening. At least I'm remembering to close up my car. . .and the birdbath is staying full.

Of course, now that it's raining, the grass is greening up and growing fast and the lawn mower is busted again. From the symptoms, I'm thinking the drive belt has irretrievably stretched out of shape.

You know it's humid when the weather report lists the current temperature as 87F "but feels like 100F." For the record, yes, it does.

The most active burrowing owl habitat around this season is on my way to the library. An adult is always perched on one of the little cruciform burrow-marking stakes and usually one or more of the family is on the ground nearby. I went by once and there were four of them on the ground surrounding the one on the perch. There are a number of open lots nearby so this place may have some really easy hunting.

I just heard "Car Talk" will be coming to an end this fall after 25 years. Almost everything I know automotively (which admittedly is not much) I learned from those guys.

Yesterday would've been Mom's 92nd birthday. My brother bought four pints of Ben & Jerry's, two for him and two for me. They were on sale. Happy Birthday! (I'm going to make mine last at least a month.)