People have been adding to the general hilarity of Donald Trump’s epic campaign for the presidency by “Trumping their cat.” What’s that you say? Well sir, I’ll tell you. You comb the excess hair from your cat’s coat and then make a little toupee out of it and place it on the adorable pet’s head. Then, take a photo.
As they say in France, “Viola!” You’ve trumped your cat.
I made my toupee out of some of the hair I’d just vacuumed up from my area rugs. My cat, Culvey, really wasn’t having any of this nonsense at first. It wasn’t until after I’d taken a pic of his buddy, Kelso the Chihuahua, rocking the toupee that he decided it was THE thing to do. So he let me take a quickie shot of him before he flung it from his skull faster than Kim Kardashian sheds her waist trainer when nobody’s looking.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Kelso and Culvey doing their Trump thang. By the way, the Donald said today that’s he’s worth TEN BILLION (his emphasis), but my pets are priceless. With or without toupees.
I was at the park yesterday, walking my little long-haired Chihuahua, Kelso, when I spied this ladybug. It had found shelter in a crevice in a stone block that makes up part of the wall surrounding the park. For our part of Texas, we’ve had a pretty cold winter (yeah, I hear you folks in the Northeast laughing) and some insects, like the ladybugs, will seek out any little spot they can find to help them over-winter until warmer weather comes along.
I thought she looked so snug that she deserved her own Haiku to commemorate her determination.
Ladybug holds tight
Winter shakes her head and laughs
Spring waits patiently.
My hometown—via a drone’s eye view.
This is a photo I tinkered with in the Paper Artist app on my Galaxy smartphone. It’s the Morning Glory growing on our fence in the backyard. I love how the vine looks like hair cascading around the metal sun face mounted to the wood.
So, of course, I’ve had the lyrics to the 60’s show “Hair” floating through my brain. I actually saw the West Coast production at the Aquarius Theater in Los Angeles, probably some time around 1967-68. Groovy, man. And they did come out into the audience, as in this video. But we weren’t as “Tony” as this crowd. 🙂
Today would have been my mother’s 94th birthday. As some of you long time readers will remember, she passed away suddenly last December a few days before Christmas.
Her final wish was for her ashes to be returned to California and scattered at sea like my father’s were fifteen years ago.
She and my dad lived in a little 1920s house two blocks up a hill from Pacific Coast Highway in Laguna Beach for about 25 years, the happiest years of their lives.
Mom spent the last fourteen years here in Texas near her family.
Here is a photo my son took from his paddleboard about a half mile out, looking back at the beach at the end of my folks’ street. He told me it was a calm, beautiful morning when he said a few words in remembrance of Granny (Mom) and then scattered her ashes in the sea, reuniting her with my dad once again.
Happy birthday, Mom. Welcome home.