There was a dumpster burning when I walked to my car to head home.
The fireman aimed the water gun at the burning dumpster.
The water would not fire on the fire.
Down to a dribble. I sympathize with the poor old pumper.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the firetruck, the other firemen had hooked up a hose to a hydrant and started whizzing on the blaze.
Smoke billowed from the dumpster as the whizzing water doused the flames.
Policemen checked out the progress of the dumpster burn.
There are fewer cranes as they are starting to head north.
pTerodactyl at dusk.
More hangers-on
Daddy Owl is not perching for long at dusk. He is flying off in search of food for Mama Owl.
The pTerodactyl looking beautifully blue-gray in the twilight.
Are you there in the darkness Mama Owl?
Yes, she is there sitting on her eggs.
Spunk: “It looks like Beaker got a new humidifier.”
Beaker: “I’m looking through it all stripely.”
Gwendolyn: “Quick change Spunk! Ha! Ha! Ha!”
Beaker: “Thanks for the new humidifier! I can breathe again.”
Spunk: “How did you do that you little brat?” Gwendolyn: “Ah ah ah ah…”
Gwendolyn: “Magic!”
Spunk: “I look great reflecting on the phone.” Gwendolyn: “I’m outta here.”
Beaker’s old humidifier started leaking, so I got him a new one. No sooner had I taken the humidifier out of the box, than Spunk jumped in it followed by Gwendolyn. Beaker gets his own private humidifier to help him breathe better. It’s so dry here that Beaker wheezes without the humidifier.
Every morning during the week I park my car in the same spot as I am usually first to arrive in the parking lot. Recently, when I get out of the car, pigeons fly in and gather around me. Last week three or four would gather, but this morning 14 pigeons flew in and stood in front of me. I assume they are expecting a handout like most people I encounter early in the morning downtown. Since I had nothing to offer them other than a few words of encouragement, like Saint Frances of Assisi, I gave them a short sermon. Then I gathered my things out of the trunk of my car and headed to the office.
Fourteen pigeons hoping for a handout got a short sermon instead.
“Where’s my blueberry buttermilk pancake PapaRATzo?”
Breaker, our 29-year-old Gold Cap Conure, goes nuts over blueberry buttermilk pancakes. He also loves Susan’s blueberry pound cake. I’m thinking that Beaker has genetic memory of his feathered forefathers going out to treetop IHOPs for Sunday breakfast or Sunday Brunch where they enjoyed blueberry buttermilk pancakes. Beaker also loves coffee, donuts, hamburgers, French fries, pizza, huevos rancheros, and similar fare, all of which he rarely gets. But still, the fact that he likes those various types of foods so much leads me to believe he has a genetic memory of a whole feathered fast food industry high in the tops of rainforest canopies.
Beaker’s pancake is the little one on the lower left side of the griddle.
“I’m still waiting!”
“About time you got my order off the griddle.”
“Yum!”
“Yum! Yum!”
“Yum! Yum! Yum! Yum!”
It’s been a few years since Laurie made blueberry buttermilk pancakes. Beaker thoroughly enjoyed his pancake as I did mine. The pancakes were delicious.
Glenda and Gwendolyn were not impressed with blueberry buttermilk pancakes. They were more interested in lying around and looking cute.
The moon was full at 3:30 am on February 27, 2021. I got the full moon at dawn on February 27, 2021, just above the horizon, falling behind some trees.
A foot
Whirlybird with a game warden looking for a coyote that attacked a runner.
Daddy Owl: “¡No me gustan los whirlybirds! ¡A mà tampoco me gustan los coyotes!“
Flicker: “Whirlybird? Is that what that thing is called?”
Mama Owl: “Stupid coyotes! Stupid whirlybird!”
I thought the doves flew up out of the cottonwood because of the helicopter.
But a second look revealed a Cooper’s Hawk had flown up in the tree where the doves were perched.
“It’s a bird! It’s a plane! IT’S a WHIRLYBIRD! Stupid coyotes!”
Blow up of Mr. Cooper.
Whirlybird hovering before flying south. A crane flying north.
Mr. Cooper flew north to another tree.
Mama Owl: “That’s better now that the whirlybird has flown south!”
Clouds at dawn looking north.
Daddy Owl: “Mucho mejor sin el whirlybird.”
Like a sunset at sunrise looking southwest.
The old Kress building that has been available for lease for at least 30 years got all its beautiful curved glass windows broken in last summer’s riots and was boarded up until recently. The boards were taken down, new glass installed, some of the artwork that was painted on the boards put in the windows, and the City of Albuquerque post a substandard unsafe to occupy sign on the door. Makes a lot of sense.
The new glass looks great.
The unsafe interior of the ground floor. Bruce and I think that space would make a great place for ballroom dance.
Leo was a cat everyone would like to have had, and he was a cat for everyone. Sadly, Leo passed on today at the age of 14. The last couple of years he had to deal with a hyperthyroid, and Tristan did a very good job of diagnosing his condition and treating him with drugs prescribed by our vet. But like our Najar and Lola before him, Leo finally succumbed to his chronic condition. But his first 12 years were full of fun and vitality. Not only was Leo a super-loving kitty, he always had something to say about most everything. You can check out this post from 2012 called Leo Sez: https://wp.me/p1yQyy-102. We all loved Leo so much. We miss him greatly.
Leo puzzled over why on earth Tristan would take a shower and get all wet. Doesn’t she know to go outside, roll in the dirt and then lick herself clean?
Leo tested out the security of the door into the common area between the bedrooms.
Leo the lover boy.
Leo would listen…
Give you cute eyes…
…and then tell you what he thought about it.
Leo loved to play. Even when he was not feeling well he would not turn down a good round of play.
