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This video of an eventing helmet cam recording (see blog post fail Sept. 14). Can you tell I haven’t slept well for a few weeks?

This is sunrise this morning:

It’s also, interestingly, what my eyes look like without regular application of Visine.

Another day in paradise at pam[at]


I’m connected to the world wide web again. So there’s that to brighten your day.

You’d think that during a whole week almost to the minute without access to my No. 1 time-sucking and yet pointless hobbies: dinking around on the Internet, I’d get a lot of stuff written. No, not so much, just watched more DVDs. Yay me, for being consistent. My excuse for not writing more is that I didn’t have my “research tool” Internet service … or just go with the title of this post.

Nothing terribly interesting happened during the week unless you want to count Cooper spitting out onto the moonlit snow at my feet a slimy, half-masticated chunk of rabbit hide that included one long, delicate ear and an eyeball, still intact. He had to donate that treat to the magpies because I was pretty sure it would’ve ended up in a pool of bile-ridden upchuck on my floor during the night if I let him finish it.

Or maybe you want to count the Artist-Poet Pairing show we attended that included a replay of one entertainer’s rousing homemade musical tribute to Glacier National Park’s 100th anniversary: “O Glacier-land” (sung to the tune of “O Tannenbaum”). It in no way registered on Cooper’s gross-factor scale, but it was equally difficult to keep a straight face while dealing with the moment.

Random View: It's ironical.

Let us not forget my visual tribute to the United States of Ironica. I’m not one, normally, to fritter away money, so I will wear this shirt, but I really bought it just because the brand is American Blue, but it was made in Pakistan: Outsourcing is almost always a grand source of irony. Remember that kids.

Tonight is the office Christmas party. The opportunities for social failure seem boundless.

Wish me luck at: pam[at]


Apparently, some members of my family didn’t like looking at the header photo of my angry red eye — some members being the squeamish, hairy-chested little girl one who requested “pretty.” I was going to find something in pink, like delicate flowers, but we had this hazy sun thing going on this morning to change the plans. This photo looks vaguely tropical, so maybe a certain somebody can imagine fruity, beach-side drinks with little pink umbrellas and heavy on the tequila in honor of sunrise.

Don’t forget the steamy hot cabana boys, either, at: pam(at)

killdeer and shy babies

I don’t know what you’re talking about officer. I’m not trying to smuggle anything across the fenceline.

What d’you mean, what do I have under wear? Hahahaha — I just said underwear.

No, I don’t mean to make light of the this topic with a federal boarder patrol agent … it’s just that, uh, I have this deformity, yeah, that’s right. I’ve had this deformity for a long time and I’m just pretty sick and friggin’ tired of having to explain it to everyone.

I have eight legs, get over it! You’re a professional!

In fact, I used to have ten legs, but one pair wandered off into the grass somewhere.

Yes, they wandered off! They’re legs, that’s what they do.

Legs can be handicapable too at

red ants

Random view: Red ants on the job.

Remember the troll who works for the U.S. Census Bureau? And how John and I were all excited that he might come to our house? And how I wanted to put up a “Trolls Welcome” sign on the side of the house?

Yeah, he totally didn’t come to our house. Sure the Census worker we got today was highly polite and professional, but she was no troll I can tell you that much.

I just want to go on the record that we feel this moment is a colossal letdown. I mean, we could’ve had a troll. We wanted to test our metal against his magnetic trollness. We wanted to know if we would laugh. If he would also. These are important issues.

Then we get ultra-professional chick in all her niceness instead. Whatever, Census Bureau. Just another example of my government disappointing me.

I take it personally at: pam(at)

Random view: Sunrise through the trees of the north 40.

Because I am low-down, laid up and too sore in the lower backish, fail-spine area to sit very long, I’m banking on this photo being worth 1,000 words.

Or maybe it’ll launch 1,000 ships.

Or maybe “I would walk 500 miles/And I would walk 500 more/Just to be the (one) who walked 1,000 miles/To fall down at your door.”

Give it up for The Proclaimers for the catchy tune and ol’ Mr. Sol who gets up first thing in the morning to give us spectacular sunrises, Vitamin D and early-onset age spots.

Yeah, baby, at: pam(at)

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