It is an established fact that I can't photograph a plate of food that doesn't look like it ought to be the dogs' dinner instead of a person's, but I think I did a pretty good job on this picture of a fat cardinal perched on a twig of the burning bush outside my dining room window. I was pleased with it, but oh, IF ONLY IT WERE A ROBIN.
Seriously, I look outside these days and just want to go to Mother Nature's house and ding-dong-ditch her with a bag of burning dog poo on her porch. What is the DEAL with this weather? Al Gore has been boring me to sobs for years with this whole global warming thing and all I've got to say is that if this is global warming, I am a runway model. It is still snowing even as I type this; all the schools in the area are either closed or on a two-hour delay.
The skies are pewter gray again this morning, the mercury in the thermometer is shivering, huddled down in the high teens, and this summer? If I complain about how hot it is? Tell me I'm an idiot, okay?
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