When the fog rolled in over our lounging chairs this afternoon (with us still in them), we counted ourselves lucky we at least had enjoyed an hour of hot, precious sunshine.
You may see some of the fog in the pic below.
We put our chairs back in the shed and went inside. But Vivian had other ideas.
She stayed behind in her outdoor room…
…demanding that we come back…
…looking more and more pitiful.
She gave up eventually, I think.
“Whaaa? Is Jennifer blogging about cats, again?”
Look, I will be the first to admit it. I love all animals, but my adoration for creatures of the feline variety is mega-size and always has been. So if you think I’m a hopeless ailurophile – for those who don’t know, that’s the fancy word for cat lover – I will readily own up to it. This blog has my name on it which means there has to be a cat post now and then.
I think often about kitties of all stripes (pun intended), particularly my own. On the days leading up to our trip to Cuba earlier this month, and actually, any time we travel, I begin worrying in earnest. What do our cats think when we disappear like that, for days on end? Do they open their eyes from each nap expecting to see us, and roam from window to window, wondering what the devil has become of us? Do they fill with anxiety, for fear we shall never return?
When I voice these concerns to my husband, he gives me a patronizing smile and reassures me once again that they don’t think that way, especially as we make sure before we go that all their needs are met and we have someone checking on them. And of course they have each other. But how can he know that for certain, that they aren’t pining for us? I know he loves cats too, but does he think he can read their minds?
Wherever we go, Cuba included, little cats seem drawn to him. I’ll give him that. Like this little tomcat.
So even though I remain unapologetic and consider myself as devoted to cats as he is, and I worry more about the ones we leave behind, I wonder why they always give him the lion’s share of attention. Even the Spanish ones.
What do you think? Say anything, but please don’t call me a crazy cat lady!
Further Reading: 8 Purrfect Destinations For Any Cat Lover
During our stay in Bonavista last month, we took a drive to nearby Elliston. The claim to fame of this charming little community is its reputation as the
“Root Cellar Capital of the World.”
More than 130 root cellars have been documented in the Elliston area, dating back as far as 1839, and some of them are still in use today. The people who settled here grew their own vegetables, which were stored in the root cellars. A well-built cellar stayed dry and kept a constant, cool temperature year round.
But by now, you are probably asking, what does any of this have to do with where babies come from?
Well, according to Elliston folklore, the older folks told the children that babies came from root cellars. In the words of a Mrs. Ella Pearce,
They said they used to dig the babies out with a silver shovel. We used to go to the cellars and listen for babies. We never questioned our parents. We thought everything they said was true. They had midwives in them days, and we thought they used to dig them out.”
So folks, I’ve learned about yet another way babies come into the world, to add to the well-known tales of the Cabbage Patch and the Stork.
Are there any other explanations for how babies got here, that parents may have told their children? (besides the TRUTH, of course!)
Please share with me below if you have knowledge of more fascinating folklore!
For more info on Elliston, click here.
Greetings to all,
Folks, Felines and otherwise!
It’s me, Vivian K. Perry, the shedding-est, purring-est, head-butting-est pussy cat in the land, and once again I am pleased and honoured to cover this evening’s blog post, here at Jennifer’s Journal.
Maisie and I have been enjoying a gorgeous sun-and-fun-filled summer here on Perry’s Point.
Jennifer is feeling a little under the weather as of late, but no worries, I’m sure she’ll bounce back to her old self, quicker than you can say meow. We’ll see to that.
We entertained visitors on several occasions, but stayed clear of that overgrown Golden Doodle, Nico, because he is simply too friendly in that annoyingly brash doggy way of his.
We did take a two week trip to St. John’s, but were oh-so grateful to return home to our walks along the coastline, relaxing sun baths, hunting of tiny critters, and all that priceless freedom.
For those who don’t know how we got our names, here goes: When Jennifer and her husband adopted us from the SPCA, the lovely staff had already named us Maggie and Storm. But our new staff thought they could do better.
Jennifer asked, “Do we know a couple of sisters who are always together?” After some brainstorming, Jennifer’s husband suggested the names of two of Jennifer’s aunts, who often spend time together. “Yes,” she squealed. “That’s perfect! I always liked their names as well, so Maisie and Vivian they will be.” And the aunts got a kick out of it too.
♥ 
Meow! ♥
Further Feline Reading:
Vivian’s View From Here
Vivian’s View From Here – Part II
Cats on Ice – Exploring Spring Thaw in Iceberg Alley
Disclaimer: No wildlife was harmed during the creation of this photo shoot.
My son came for a visit here in Newtown this past week. On one of the days, I went along to take pics of him and my husband playing beach golf. This beautiful sandy beach is only a few hundred yards from our house. The weather was cool and windy, but I liked the way the photos turned out.
What do you like to do when you go to the beach?
Okay, the kids are in bed fast asleep!
This is going to be a quick post this evening, as I’ve been pretty busy and don’t expect to be up many more hours myself. I am now on Nanny duty for a week, staying at my daughter’s house while she and my son-in-law are away enjoying a vacation.
No big deal, you are probably thinking. But hang on a second, besides being responsible for a seven year-old girl and a five year-old boy, there is Ginger the cat and Nico the golden doodle dog. In addition, Poppy won’t be showing up to help out until Saturday.
Ginger is a breeze, and adorable with her new “lion cut”, but Nico is another story. Daily walks, poop-scooping, and simply managing an unbelievably lively and big one year-old pup may be the most challenging part of the deal.
Ah, but it is only for a short time. And it certainly has its rewards. Our girl has always been our angel, being the first grandchild and all. And then there’s our little man. After I read him a bedtime story and tucked him in for the night, I said, “I love you.” Sleepily, he said, “I love you too, Nanny.”
Sounds like a pretty good deal to me.
I’m sharing a few smiles I’ve collected from around the world in today’s post. While you listen to the great Louis Armstrong, it is my hope these photos will put a smile on your face too. 🙂
Cuba:
Jamaica:
Italy:
Friends in Florida:
Relatives in Ottawa:
Dominican Republic:
This morning I read a funny post by 40 is the new 13, a fellow blogger, on how children make crazy assumptions based on their own brand of logic, such as dogs are boys and cats are girls.
It sparked a memory for me. It wasn’t of an assumption one of my kids made, but a memory of what my son said one day when he was in grade two. I think it would be considered a malapropism.
Above is a pic I took of my boy back in the day, waiting for the school bus on his first day of kindergarten. When he got to second grade, his teacher, Mrs. Snow, was a kind and lovely young woman, and all the children adored her.
One day, when my little boy was nearing the end of that school year, he got off the bus and came home with an interesting piece of news. My friend and I were chatting over coffee when he entered the kitchen. He dropped his book bag and announced,
“Guess what? Mrs. Snow isn’t going to be a grade two teacher anymore.”
“No?” I asked, curious. “Is she giving up teaching already?” It seemed odd because she was nowhere near the age of retirement. “Oh, she’s going to teach a different grade, is she?”
“No,” he said. “She’s going to be a prostitute teacher.”
I nearly choked on my coffee, while my friend tried in vain to suppress her laughter.
Now the first thing I did was gently correct him. “You must mean substitute teacher, honey.”
The next thing I thought was, where did he hear that word? It wasn’t a word that was bandied about in our household. It wasn’t like he was living in a bordello, or that we let him watch a steady stream of TV shows like Hill Street Blues or Spencer for Hire. And I sure as heck couldn’t imagine it as a topic of conversation among him and the other kids around his age. How did this word get into his vocabulary?
To this day, the answer remains a mystery.
Another one I liked was when my niece asked for a “girl-cheese” sandwich. Even when her mother corrected her, she continued to say it.
“It’s my cheese sandwich. And I’m a girl, right?”
Did you have any “verbal typos” to share from your childhood, or from one of your own kids?
(Of course, you don’t need to be a kid to say the darndest thing. The other day I called a take-out restaurant and asked if they had any “pressure-treated” chicken. I’m still shaking my head over that one. 😉 )
More fun reading:
Dogs are boys, Cats are girls
I’m baaack!
Hello there, Peeps. Vivian K. Perry here, Jennifer’s (dare I say) favourite cat. Just don’t tell my sister Maisie, capiche?
Jennifer asked me back to host her blog today, because she is a little bogged down writing an especially exciting chapter of her new novel.
Whatever! I was happy to oblige, nonetheless. This is my second time guest blogging on Jennifer’s Journal. If you’re interested, and I’m sure you are because I’m so cute, you can see my first post from last summer here.
Maisie and I do agree on one thing: we are getting bored with the cold weather. We miss the summer days of hunting little creatures, and basking in the sun. It is warming up a bit, but it’s still darn chilly on the paws most days.
So we while away the hours with our indoor activities.
Sometimes, we get on each other’s nerves, as sisters often do. I was thinking Maisie looked entirely too comfortable having our little house all to herself, so I had to act.
Of course, at other times Maisie and I are closer-than-this:
But what is my Number One Favourite Activity?
That’s right,
Dreaming of Summer
Thank you for visiting Vivian’s View from Here! We hope you enjoyed it. 🙂
Would you like to see more of Maisie and Vivian? Check out these links:
Cats on Ice: Exploring Spring Thaw in Iceberg Alley
Unless a major catastrophe strikes our world between now and February third, I can pretty much guarantee where my husband will be this coming Sunday. That’s right, he’ll be cheering for the San Francisco 49ers as they compete against the Baltimore Ravens in the Forty-Seventh Super Bowl football game, and I will be cheering alongside him.
But what makes this particular game so significant for us? Well, there are a few reasons. For me, the game itself is – dare I say it – secondary. Not being a huge sports fan of any stripe, I’ll be taking part to enjoy the following:
1. The Half-time Show with Beyoncé. I am looking forward to seeing and hearing this lovely lady perform, and I don’t even care if she lip-syncs.
2. The delicious and obligatory Super Bowl snacks. Can’t wait to dig into the colossal batch of Super Nachos I am planning to prepare, and the Super Spicy Chicken Wings that, of course, must accompany them. My mouth is watering already, just writing about it.
3. And we must not forget the ice-cold beer to wash it all down!
4. Sooky baby Tom Brady will be nowhere to be seen. Even though I’ll be rooting for the 49ers, I’d love to give the Ravens a pat on the back for eliminating Mr. Ego and his ilk from the Championship.
5. But the fifth and the biggest reason the game is so special this year? It is an Anniversary of sorts for my husband and me. You see, 1994 was the year we met and started dating. And I soon found out what an avid, longtime fan of football my new man was, when the season started that year. Being stuck-like-glue-to-each-other-in-love, I was quickly initiated, and even dragged into a big-screen pub two weeks before the Super Bowl to witness San Francisco eliminate the Dallas Cowboys.
And wouldn’t you know it, in that first magical year for us, his beloved 49ers won the Super Bowl (January 1995). This is the first time, in the eighteen years since, that San Francisco is getting another shot at the Championship. Can they do it again?
Honestly, it doesn’t make a heck of a lot of difference to me, personally.
But it would be kind of special to see a victory dance, and that victory smile again, on the face of the man I love.
Jennifer's Journal 