Cathy in the Wright

Score!

Yesterday The Governor and I were ambling around The Outpost when we ran into my father-in-law at one of the barns. He told me that there was a dead deer by one of the fence lines. His guess was that it ran into the fence and died. The carcus had been dragged a bit and has been ravished by scavengers. Apparently, there's not much left other than the head.

"How cool! Where is it exactly? I want to go take some pictures."

"Why?"

"Great blog material!"

He winced. "Are you sure? It's kind of gruesome."

Apparently, he only reads my blog on occasion.

So after I get out of my pajamas, The Governor and I are off on a 4-wheeler ride. I have a general idea of where the corpse is, so I'm bringing the camera.

Wish me luck.

...

UPDATE

Shut out. We couldn't find the deer. We tramped through the woods in the area I thought it would be, but couldn't find it. Nothing but buckthorn and wood ticks.

After failing to find the rotting venison, we went for a long ride around The Outpost. On the southern property line, we did find this guy:

Not too shabby. No blood, guts, maggots, or other gore, but better than a snake which got runover in the driveway. We'll take it.

...

UPDATE II

Ran into the father-in-law. He gave me more detailed directions to the deer. We will try again after lunch.

UPDATE III

Well, we finally found ground zero. Just for your viewing pleasure, I crawled through the buckthorn and prickly ash just to get these pictures. No hardship, really. I've endured worse. The night I tracked Sisyphus through an ice storm was extremely hazardous, but the resulting photos were worth it. (Sorry, private collection.) Anyway, here's the deceased:

This next shot I took while leaning to one side. I was balancing on my left-hand fingertips while I shot with my right hand. My fingertips were resting on what felt like a piece of bark. After snapping the picture, I looked down to see that the bark was actually the deer's ear.

I ought to put up a tip jar just for that one.

Enjoy! Hope you've already eaten.

*Cough*

My mom and sister and I went down to Missouri for the weekend to visit my grandfather. On the car ride down, I was lamenting the fact that I didn't get the kitchen as clean as I had wanted before the trip, and that I was CERTAIN that the greasy, crusty meatloaf pan I left soaking in the sink would still be there when I got home.

And now, under no small amount of discomfort, I must issue the following announcement:

The pan was not in the sink. It was in the dish drainer. It was clean.

My apologies, dear, for besmirching your good name.

A Review

I've had nothing worth writing about lately. For those of you interested in the extra-superficial details of a blogger's life...I've eaten enough Easter candy in the last three days to pretty much ensure I'll be wearing elastic waist shorts the entire summer.

You're welcome.

This morning I did something that I've never done before. I tossed a book in the garbage. I could not even bring myself to recycle it. I don't think I've ever enjoyed a book less. Well, let me qualify that. I had some assigned reading in college that would have preceded this novel into the bin, but this was the first book I was under no obligation to read (or finish) and I did so. And I regret it.

I picked up The Sunday Philosophy Club because I had read The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency by the same author (Alexander McCall Smith) and enjoyed it as a quick, pleasant book to pass an afternoon. I figured this novel had to be more of the same. Wrong.

I had a lengthy fisking of the book started, but I just deleted it. I think this review quoted on the back of the novel pretty much captures it all. From The New York Times:

"The literary equivalent of herbal tea and a cozy fire...McCall Smith's Scotland [is] well worth future visits."

In other words, it will put you to sleep, and the next novel can't get any worse.

What book would you have tossed out rather than see anyone else pick it up? Are you reading anything good right now?

File It Under: We Really Thought This One Through

A couple in Missouri pretend to have sextuplets:

But in the end, authorities say Sarah and Kris Everson never had the sextuplets as claimed. All they had was what appears to be a big lie.

The couple's dramatic story had holes in it from the start — from their mysterious withholding of information for more than a month to the unanimous response of area hospitals that they hadn't helped deliver the newborns.

On Tuesday, authorities said the mystery had been solved — the entire tale was deemed a hoax aimed at tapping the generosity of others to pay the couple's mounting bills.

Somewhere in Nigeria, a spammer is taking notes.

When I Win The Pulitzer For Photoblogging, Try Not To Be Jealous. Okay Kev?

Since my buddy Kevin has been out photoblogging major news events, I thought I'd one-up him and give you the inside scoop on the big story from yesterday: my afternoon with The Governor.

Given my obsession interest in dead animals, The Governor and I took advantage of the warm weather to take a hike around The Outpost's nature reserve (aka The Duck Pond) looking for deceased critters.

Located just off prestigious Outpost Drive, this private reserve is guarded by heavy security

at each entrance

and is usually a guaranteed cornucopia of lower food chain denizens, both living and decomposing. Unfortunately, the only wildlife we encountered was this guy:

He wasn't even dead.

We did find a clump of deer hair, but without a carcus attached...well, I just didn't see the point of snapping a photo of it.

Disappointed, we gave up and headed home. Then we heard thunder. And it started raining on us. We hung our heads and shuffled back to The Drive. I thought the inclement weather was perhaps someone up above scolding us for our morbid facination with the non-living. Turns out, it was just the opposite. He wanted our eyes pointed downwards so we wouldn't miss this guy, who was the victim of a hit and run:

Not much, but still, not a shut-out either.

I defy you to tell me that a dead snake doesn't beat the pants off a bunch of hippies toting a Che flag. The Luciador picture rocked though.

Spring Accessories: Nothing Goes Better With The Black Strappy Heels Than A Pair Of Night-Vision Goggles

Well, I apologize for the lack of posting. The VP and I have been busy attending various functions with the Grand Lodge of Minnesota. Masons from across the state gathered in the Twin Cities for the annual changing of the Grand Poohbah and various other housekeeping tasks. In between break-out meetings on how to recover the Templars' hidden treasures or helpful hints on levitating barnyard animals, they held a few formal dinners. I went to one. It was all my feet could stand. High heels two nights in a row would have crippled me.

Foot agony aside, the dinner and other programs I attended were wonderful. Several women I had met in England last summer had come over with their husbands and we had a great time catching up and making promises for future trips across the pond.

But I'm glad it's over. I haven't spent much time at home this past week, and it rather breaks one's heart to learn that your 3-year-old was talking in his sleep saying, "I miss my mom."

Almost as wrenching - I've had to cut back severely on my stalking. The weather is finally warming up, and instead of perched in the bushes outside Casa del Sisyphus wearing my camo fatigues, I've been hanging around hotel ballrooms in tea-length dresses and debilitating footwear.

Enough of the morose - tonight I am back home. I was able to tuck my kids into bed and not just drop an unacknowledged kiss on their brows long after they fell asleep.

And while I may not have been able to follow Sisyphus all week, I still have the wiretap recordings and GPS data to review at my leisure.

Life is good.

Pint-Sized Don Juan

Last night the boys and I went to a local restaurant with my in-laws. The place was fairly empty. Judging by the amount of time it took to get our food, the sole waitress was also the cook. I imagine that's why she looked a bit harried.

But The Governor put a little lift in her spirits. She came by the table and stood behind The Gov and let us know that our food was almost ready. The Gov looks up over his shoulder at her, smiles, and says, "You know, you're kinda beautiful!"

I'm not sure who was more taken aback - us or the waitress.

On her next trip to the table, he grabbed her hand and held on for a few moments. The third trip, he gave her a big wink. And as she walked away, he tried to reach out after her. I'm not POSITIVE he was going to pinch her behind, but it sure looked that way.

I was floored. I'm not sure where he picked up his moves. His father doesn't behave that way in restaurants. I don't. At least not in front of the children, anyway.

Good grief, he turns four in a couple of weeks. What am I going to do with him when he's fifteen? I just hope it's not watching his face on CNN as another teacher-student affair unfolds.

One For The Guys...