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Eagles in the architecture

The Church Hill Bank, North 25th and East Broad Streets

Everyone's posting pictures of flags today, so I had to be different. I started looking around at all the patriotic signals in the architecture around us. I wandered through Church Hill on foot yesterday, and then had Oz chauffeur me today for an eagle tour of downtown Richmond. ("Hey, there's an eagle! Stop! No, you went past it." "I had to find parking!" "That was totally parking back there!") Click the picture for more sandstone fun.

By dint of working my butt off last week and yesterday, I was able to take today off. All the way off. No work at all. So we slept in, watched the Clash of the Axis Powers (Italy vs. Germany in the World Cup semifinals), baked bread, etc. I made pasta salad with basil and parsley from the garden and then quizzed Oz about the bug stuff he'd put out all over the backyard yesterday.

"You know, I rinsed the hell out of those herbs, but did you read the warning label on that poison?"

"Yes. It said it was okay for fruits and vegetables. Sheesh."

This evening, since the soccer match ran into overtime and we wanted to eat right away, we went to the Full Kee for dinner because they're always open. We finally gave in to the staff's insistence and tried the deep-fried spicy soft shell crab. It was fantastic, although Oz did point out that even deep-fried spicy tennis shoes would probably taste good, but this really was good. I've had a deep distrust of soft shell crab ever since a soft shell crab sandwich in Annapolis which included the guts. I like my crabs cleaned, thank you.

In feral cat news, I successfully pilled Sparky the biting cat with his anti-anxiety meds. After my first unsuccessful attempt, I worked on my technique and on training the cat to deal with having his mouth pried open. For the last few weeks I've been going through the process without a pill. Scoop up kitty, pry his mouth open, tell him what a good boy he is (e.g., lie), and give him a treat. It helps to do this at a time of day when he's relaxed and sleepy. Today I did the same thing, only I dropped a pill into the back of his throat. He swallowed it right up and scarfed down his treats.

This afternoon I told Oz, "It says it takes three weeks before the medicine starts working."

He looked at Sparky sprawled groggily on the red leather chair. "Three weeks, my butt. Look at that cat. He's totally zonked."

This would be a good thing. He hasn't been in the best mood lately. He's been collecting nicknames like "Grouchy-pants" and, when he's nasty (generally towards the other cat), "Fat Bastard." Even as a kitten he was naughty, but not too. Oz called him "The Knave of Twilight" because he never was quite bad enough to rate "Prince of Darkness."

Now I'm listening to the booming of fireworks in the distance. Later this evening, people here in the neighborhood will pull out their automatic weapons and fire into the sky. The usual, on the Fourth of July.