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16
Mar 16

Another sign

We’ve returned to the land of my people.

Actually we were about an our from the ancestral homelands when I took that picture. But whenever you see Sun Drop you can’t be too far away. And we arrived safely about an hour later. And the why of all of this will be amusing, dear reader, in a few days.

Also, if you aren’t familiar with Sun Drop, you’re missing out. I don’t drink sodas anymore. Haven’t in a decade. But every now and then, when you get the memory of a good taste in mind, you think about it. Sun Drop is one of those tastes.


15
Mar 16

Signs of spring

You’re always looking. Because you have to put the cold weather behind you. And, in truth, it has felt like spring for a while now. But you don’t trust it until you see it. Because you need to see it. You have to put that cold well behind you. And seeing it does that, even if it seems like you see it later these days.

Probably you don’t see it later. Maybe you just start looking earlier, because that breakout means more and more.

So here they are:

And another:

Also, military maneuvers. Seems weird, but that’s part of it in this part of the world. While this guy is getting a tow, seeing the reserves on their rotation is another sign.

At the start of the season, you’re excited for any of the signals.


12
Mar 16

Timing is everything

Walking from one room to another and you see the dangling cat pose:

Now the key to getting that shot is being casual. I’ve learned that she’s learned to not care for having a phone in her face. (She’s OK with an actual camera, which makes noise, for whatever reason.)

You walk by, and then you pull out your phone and open your app and then you crouch down and casually frame the shoot and shoot a few frames.

So you have your safety shots and you think about moving in a little closer. Tighter compositions, you tell people continually. And then:

You hit the sleep button on your camera, because it won’t get any better than that.


11
Mar 16

Toonces, the driving cat

Sometimes we go for short rides in the car. Mostly for pictures like this:

Oh, like you don’t drive your pets around.

She actually likes the car, for the most part. Or, to fit the feline paradigm, she tolerates it.


10
Mar 16

A 3-year-old’s life

We got to see Liam today. In a word, he’s healthy.

We were going to dinner with friends one night when The Yankee saw on Facebook that he’d just been diagnosed with a rare form of leukemia. His parents had found bruises that they couldn’t explain and so they went to the pediatrician and that doctor wisely sent them to Birmingham and they caught it in a hurry. I walked from the table at the restaurant that night to the restroom and looked up this form of leukemia, marveling at Google’s knowing what I meant, but also at the prognosis. If it was caught quickly, and with the proper care, it was a scary, hard thing, but easily survivable. And Liam’s parents are marvelous, and they’re fortunate to have good health care and he has had some scare times, and some hard years, and he’s spent too much of his early childhood in a car driving to hospitals, getting poked and prodded, wearing masks and helmets and having his social life limited. But the kid is doing great. He’s amazing. He walked in, sat on our sofa and pronounced it “Quite comfortable.” And then he just plays at that high speed that kids continually run in. Liam is healthy.

So this is a good reminder about how easy it is to register for blood marrow donations. You can do the entire effortless, painless registration in less time than it is taking you to read this. Send off for the forms. When they arrive, swab your cheeks, put them in the envelope and drop them in the mail. You’ve joined the national registry; maybe you’ll get the chance to help somebody one day. Find out more here.

In another word, he’s adorable. That kid has style. Completely holds a room with his charm. Though you wish he’d come out of his shell and be a bit more precocious.