20 August 2014

everything turns away quite leisurely from the disaster

I think we can agree that the news last week was, in almost every respect, absolutely terrible, and that this week it continues to be, in almost every respect, absolutely terrible.

I don't intend to discuss the generalised terribleness of the world in detail, because I don't do that here, but it feels odd to chatter happily about how I spent last week on vacation when the news has been so unrelentingly awful.

And yet the world turns on, and because it was August we did go down to the seaside.

I've taken many photos of sandpipers and waves over the years, but I'm particularly proud of this one.

We went to the beach.  We toured a reproduction Spanish galleon called El Galeón Andalucía (there is an album of my pictures of the ship on Flickr). My sister made me a beautiful birthday cake. My nephews were their funny, adorable selves.

This year, as last, we boarded the dog at a small kennel near where we stay in Delaware. It is not fancy -- unlike the kennels near our home that bill themselves as 'pet spas' and 'pet retreats' -- but it is clean and well-equipped, and Duke is safe and cared for. He even remembered the woman when he checked in, and went with her happily.

(He was also happy to see us when we picked him up; he actually gambolled up to the Viking, which is not his usual mode).

We stopped at roadside produce stands on the way home, ostensibly because we were heading to an empty refrigerator and needed vegetables, but mostly it was an excuse to eat peaches. As a bonus, Duke got to meet a goat:

Duke meets a goat

He liked the goat. The goat's feelings are unknown.

Since we were only gone a few days, the cats stayed at home with a dry food dispenser and a water dispenser. They were fine, though of course there were complaints. Violet was outraged, either because we had left, or (more likely) because we had taken her dog with us, and shouted (mrow!) at us for hours after we came home. She has not liked to let us (especially the dog) out of her sight since.

Fergus wolfed (panthered?) down two tins of tuna-flavoured wet food and then forgave me.

And so back to work, and the world of ridiculous, arbitrary, externally-imposed deadlines.


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