It's All About Cats!

Mark the date on your calendar: The third weekend of July, we go the annual Cat Expo hosted by the Garden State Cat Club of New Jersey, Inc. It offers an unparalleled opportunity to learn about the many breeds of cats and the people who love them. Like any animal lover, they are a culture unto themselves, with language, tools, habits and tricks known only to them. Ken & I go with friends who are also cat owner/lovers, where we spend the day admiring kittens and cats of all shapes and sizes, whims and "catitutes." Oh...and a little shopping on the side....
Come on! Let's go!

As you go in the front door, you have lots of opportunities to adopt a cat or kitten in need of a home. Despite Ken's and my stalwart promises, we caved in three years ago and adopted a little black cat named Bear, who is now one of the loves of our lives.
I think this one might be calling you....

Entering the holding arena. The draped areas are the show rings sprinkled throughout the hall.

Ken making his way down Meow Mall.

A judge at work. I think she really wants to give this little guy a kiss but held back.

Break for shopping.....

A forest of cat furniture!

One of these days, I will have a big Maine coon, just like this time.

One of my sisters was owned by a Siamese cat. She claims it was one of the most amazing experiences of her life.

Home away from home.

Cornish Rex. Perhaps named Yoda?

My personal show favorite was a British Shorthair. This is "Blue Sterling," affectionately known as "Bug." I am smitten by this guy.

Did I mention there was shopping?

A 4-month old Cornish Rex. They are very sweet little guys.

A blue-point Absyinnian who knows his place in the world, and yours too.

There were lots of Persian cats there, being constantly fluffed and groomed. I think this guy was thinking about how good it would feel to roll in the mud.

Ken and I are suckers for black cats. We have TWO that look like this one.

We had a meow of a good time! Hope you enjoyed the show!

Happy Aniversary #15!

Diane & Ken
July 16, 1994 (& counting)

The Rose (Bette Midler)
Some say love, it is a river, that drowns the tender reed
Some say love, it is a razor, that leaves your soul to bleed
Some say love, it is a hunger, an endless, aching need
I say love; it is a flower, and you, its only seed.

It’s the heart afraid of breaking, that never learns to dance
It’s the dream afraid of waking, that never takes the chance
It’s the one who won’t be taken, who cannot seem to give
And the soul afraid of dying, that never learns to live.

When the night has been too lonely and the road has been too long
And you think that love is only for the lucky and the strong
Just remember, in the winter, far beneath the bitter snow
Lies the seed, that with the sun’s love, in the spring, becomes the rose.

Written by McBroom, Amanda
Lyrics@Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

Wordless Wednesday-Buddies

A Birding "Tweet-up!"

When the native Americans roamed the land, clans joined at various times of the year to connect, offer and receive food, exchange information and celebrate common joys. We are in a different age now, yet the human need for connection has stayed the same. We just call it by different names and use electronics and technology to make it happen.
Yesterday, I was invited to a "tweet-up" of other folks who "bird, blog, tweet and chirp" to go birding in Milford Point, CT. The only requirement is that group participants be involved in social networking at some level: Blogging, Twittering, Facebook, etc. We gathered together from across our land, offered information and exchanged technology tips, dined on lobster rolls and celebrated our common joy: BIRDS!
Come on, share the day! Click on any of the photos to enlarge them.

You know it's going to be a good day when it starts with a Piping Plover.
We were careful not to linger near this Killdeer, who was upset at our presence. Maybe a nest or young nearby....

There were almost as many osprey as mosquitoes.

A Golden-crowned Night Heron on the hunt!

Dinner is served!

The nest of a Monk Parakeets! (Pssst...notice the House Sparrow on the far left...)

The House Sparrow sneaking into the basement (on the left).
Nest reinforcements have arrived.

Tidying.

Double-crested Cormorant

Least Tern

Least Sandpipers, intent on dinner. Too busy to care about a bunch of birders.
Willet, perhaps contemplating it's upcoming migration journey. (Where did I put the GPS?)

The next Tweet-up is being discussed--perhaps NJ, which is a great state for birding (and dining). Will let you know!

Guilt-Free Ice Cream

Twice a year, I treat myself to a guilt-free trip to the Haagen Dasz store and buy a large cup of my favorite coffee-chip ice cream. The first time is a gift consumed within a week or two of my birthday and the other is to acknowledge the end of another hot summer.

I let the cold scoops soften before sliding the plastic spoon around the sides of the cup to admire the soft mocha. With great nonchalance, I slip it into my mouth and give myself over to the mysterious depths of bittersweet chocolate against the wisdom of fine coffee. The sweet smoothness lingers. I close my eyes. This is not the best table etiquette, which is why I prefer to be alone. Every calorie must be savored. I do not want to be distracted by shallow conversation but be present in the moment, a kind of ice cream meditation.

It’s not that I don’t enjoy the occasional ice cream cone or Dairy Queen during the rest of the year but there are none better than this, probably because it has the highest percentage of butterfat on the planet. Which means it is bad for my arteries and heart.

Well, I have no plans on living forever anyway.

The only way for me to enjoy this is to decide ahead of time that it will be guilt-free. Because of my self-imposed limitations to twice-a-year, I let myself get away with it. And every time, my inner child, long neglected, suddenly jumps down from her lonely fence post and comes running.

I recommend a dose of your favorite ice cream for temporary relief of stress, heartache, depression, sorrow, PIAs, endless worries and concerns. It is the first choice of treatment for the nagging pestering of the occasional sweet tooth. I have self-medicated for all these conditions and can report 100% successful outcomes. It may add a pound here or there, but scores high on My Personal Joy index.

But all good things come to an end. Too soon, there are only scrapes of melted cream left in the bottom of the cup. And while tempted, even I won’t lick the bottom (in public).