It’s going to be cold tonight!

The cold arctic air has settled down over us again: Saturdays highs and lows.


Errands, starring cat neurological checkup

The plan was to be out the door by 2:15 p.m. since the cat’s appointment was at 3:30 and the trip can easily take an hour. I got out at 2:16, to the veterinary hospital by 3:00. I spent time reading my book and admiring the transfusion cats in their glassed-in enclosure & looking at the book about the first cats to live in it. Two cats had served their three years and were up for adoption. They are the tabby on the left and the intriguing fellow in the toy-basket.


I didn’t see Veterinary Neurologist until about 3:45 because of an emergency patient, then had to wait for the cat’s meds to be made up, pay, and set the next appointment.

It was rush hour, so even going on to a smaller city, the drive took until about 6 p.m.. No one was home, so I put the things I was delivering on the back porch. I had felt far too spaced-out by the end of the drive, as though highway hypnosis were setting in, so I moved van to a nearby parking lot. I let the cat out of his box and offered him water and a litter-box (sans litter). Then I curled up under a blanket and rested with eyes closed for about an hour. I may have slept.

When I felt alert, I got underway with puss settled on the back seat. I bought gasoline and got a cheeseburger to share with the cat, then drove back to Toronto. I left the highway one stop early and bought coffee beans at our local Starbucks. The cat uttered one meow as we got near our street. Do you think they smell it? Home! I encouraged the cat back into the box and unloaded everything. At first, I couldn’t find my phone but it turned out that the cat had been lying on it since my rest. Finally, we were back in house at 9 p.m.. That was quite a long errand! The cat got a celebratory meal of canned food and I got onto the computer.

Heater made with candles and flowerpots

This heater shows no open flame and gets quite hot but won’t set things on fire. You need a well ventilated place to use it, not a tent.

If you don’t have the bolts and washers to assemble this, one flowerpot and three or four stones would be better than an open flame.

See the flowerpot heater video!

Halloween pumpkins


Cat pumpkins!

These are just small pie pumpkins that I bought at the grocery store.

Islands of the blessed: Canada

The International Human Development Indicators website puts Canada 11th for livability. Here’s their summary:

Human Development Index: Ranking: 11
Health: Life expectancy at birth (years): 81.1
Education: Mean years of schooling (of adults) (years): 12.3
Income: GNI per capita in PPP terms: (Constant 2005 international $): 35,369
Inequality: Inequality-adjusted HDI value: 0.832
Poverty: MPI: Multidimensional poverty index (%): n.a.
Gender: GII: Gender Inequality Index, value: 0.119
Sustainability: Carbon dioxide emissions per capita (tonnes): 16.3
Demography: Population, total both sexes (thousands): 34,674.7
Composite indices: Non-income HDI value: 0.934
Innovation and technology: Telephone subscribers per 100 people: 120.3
Trade, economy and income: Income index 0.866

The Rob Ford mess

Angry drunk fires chief of staff. Rob Ford tosses another staffer overboard.

Sunshine Sketches of a Little Town: The Census

Germany has discovered that it has fewer people than estimated, because people forget to notify the government when they move away.

That inevitably reminded me of Stephen Leacock’s explanation of population fluctuations in the little town of Mariposa:

In point of population, if one must come down to figures, the Canadian census puts the numbers every time at something round five thousand. But it is very generally understood in Mariposa that the census is largely the outcome of malicious jealousy. It is usual that after the census the editor of the Mariposa Newspacket makes a careful reestimate (based on the data of relative non-payment of subscriptions), and brings the population up to 6,000. After that the Mariposa Times-Herald makes an estimate that runs the figures up to 6,500. Then Mr. Gingham, the undertaker, who collects the vital statistics for the provincial government, makes an estimate from the number of what he calls the “demised” as compared with the less interesting persons who are still alive, and brings the population to 7,000. After that somebody else works it out that it’s 7,500; then the man behind the bar of the Mariposa House offers to bet the whole room that there are 9,000 people in Mariposa. That settles it, and the population is well on the way to 10,000, when down swoops the federal census taker on his next round and the town has to begin all over again.


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