Actually, no.  Sometimes the lead singer had a hat on.

We went to see The Slants and Men Without Hats the other night.   It was an eventful day – I went to work, went home, picked up a couple kids, got stuck in traffic, got there in plenty of time, had the guy in line give us his spare ticket (score!  we were short one), got seats behind the sound guys, watched a great show, got pictures of my daughter with The Slants, got autographs, left, got stuck in traffic, got home at 2:18ayem.   Then got up at 7ayem to go to work.

But it was fun.  And worth it.  The kids had an awesome time, the traffic accident didn’t involve us, and all is well.  I have video of The Slants portion of the concert, but you can’t really see anything.  But you can hear it, by god, yes indeed.

Overall, it was a great concert.  It was put together by a band called Massive Moth…but I have to say, sandwiched in between The Slants and Mw/oH, they kind of got lost.  The kids wanted to dance, and they weren’t very dance-able.  The Slants opened strong and put on a great show.  Men w/o Hats…well, I couldn’t see much, but I what I could hear was impressive.  They’ve changed over the years, but not for the worse.  They did not disappoint.  And they were smart – they saved “the song” for last.  Well, second to last – there was an encore song.
Oh – and the played SOS by Abba.  HA!  It was great.

The enclosure I made for the pigeon.

Once again, a less-than-full-grown bird has happened into our lives in need of help.  The difference is, this one looks like it might have a chance of surviving.

My daughter found it – it’s a pigeon by the way – in the dirt under the overpass near my work.  It didn’t make any move to get  up or escape, so she thought it might be hurt.  She had part of a shirt she’d been taking apart with her, so she used it to pick it up and bring it to me.  I borrowed a carrier from work and brought it home.

I took him home. I took him out of the carrier and took a good look at him. He seems fine – doesn’t have any asymmetry or anything like he’s broken a wing, doesn’t fight or struggle like anything hurts. He’s obviously uncomfortable at being handled, but I think being that young helped him adapt to the situation somewhat.

The thing is, his legs don’t seem to work. At all. They are just kind of there and floppy. He can push himself along the ground with his wings, and seems to be somewhat practiced at it, but the legs just drag behind. Otherwise, he seems fine. He’s eating, drinking, reacting to his surroundings; all the stuff a bird should be doing. Just can’t use those feet.

Time will tell how this turns out, but maybe…just maybe…this one will live.

We had excitement last night. Have I mentioned that the new neighbors’ cat has been coming inside a lot? Started out chasing chickens, but now it realizes that the chickens are bigger than he is. Now he just comes in to try to eat. I guess my cat food is better than his. My cats are so mellow that they don’t care, aside from Twinks who will occasionally chase them off (“them” being this cat and two others who started following his lead).

Don't you love how he manages to look indignant as he's being ushered out of our house?

Anyway. Last night, Mark went out to the back for a smoke. It was about midnight, maybe a little earlier. He suddenly comes back in saying “I need help” and walks back out. In the garage, he puts on his coat and gloves. I ask what’s up, he says, “there’s a cat in the fence”. So I grab the flashlight and follow him out. The cat is indeed in the fence. The neighbor cat. He’s gotten his collar hooked on one of the hinges of the dog exersize yard I use to keep the chickens out of the tomatoes. Looks like he’s been there a while – he’s kinda feeble, you know? I’m not like Mark – when I see something like that, I don’t automatically think, “protect myself”, I think, “Help the cat”. So I hand him the flashlight and hold the cat steady with one hand and unhook him with the other. Yes, I got a few scratches, and yes, I got some blood on my arm from the cat. But it would have taken him forever to get the cat undone with garden gloves on, and the coat probably wouldn’t have helped.

Poor Charlie (turns out that’s the cats name) went limp when I unhooked him, just relaxed into my arms. I took him back to his house, late as it was. I figured that since we knew where he was from it was the best thing to do. The blood was from his mouth, probably his throat was raw from trying to breath hung up like that.

Oh, and he’s fine now. He’s already been in twice this morning looking for food. Maybe I should recommend switching brands to my neighbor?