Confessions of a Serial Swooper

A few updates on past blog stories.

1) Remember my post about our upcoming summer vacation (aka death march) RV trip?  I wasn’t all that enthusiastic about the idea.  Thankfully, there’s been a little change in plans.  We’re renting a house boat in Boston Harbor, instead.  So, it’s kind of a nice compromise because it’s got some adventurous redneck element to it (it ain’t a fancy boat, y’all) but I can stock the fridge with chardonnay and sip from a roof deck gazing out over the water at the Boston skyline while Husband and the boys fish for contaminated bluefish.   Which sure as heck beats the view from an upstate New York trailer park.

I’m sure you’ll hear more on this.

2) Remember my post about the gigantic bear that was attacking my father’s bees?  Well, my Dad got off two rounds of shots over two nights, hit nothing, but apparently scared the bear at least 1/2 as much as he scared a collection of 80-year old neighbors.   No sign of the bear since then and the bees are finally getting a good night’s rest.  The motion sensitive camera is still set up, though.  Which is sort of fun because they catch the occasional cool wildlife shot.  Like, turkeys settling in for a nap in the garden or a curious family of wandering skunks.  So now, ever the hobbier, my Dad’s started staging things out there to encourage new wildlife visitors.  Here’s an opossum enjoying a hearty meal of lobster shells.

3) Remember my post about holding a political sign because Big Brother puked in a friend’s car?  Well, Murphy’s Law…I wound up with a picture of my sign-holding self in a local online publication.   Which is funny.  But, sadly, neither my issue nor the other nine issues passed.  The town not only voted against funds for a turf field but also against funds to renovate an embarrassingly dilapidated school, against relief for a family who recently learned the land under their home is TOXIC, and against improving the safety of an intersection where a young high school girl was recently hit and killed while crossing the street.  In the crosswalk.

Signs of the times, of course.  Sad, nonetheless.

4) Remember how I was offering up the “Under-Retriever” to BP for help in cleaning up the Gulf?  You probably thought I was exaggerating.  That my dog couldn’t really be that bad a shedder.  Well, here’s a little proof. I try to vacuum the living room rug every couple of days.  Two days.  Three max.

BEFORE

AFTER

Gross.

So, I shared these photos with BP executive Tony Hayward.   Unfortunately, he told me the shedding wasn’t really “all that bad” and that the amount of hair spilling out from the dog onto my rug is relatively small when we consider the actual size of my living room rug.

Thanks for that, Tony.  Among other things.  Thanks.