Lost or Damaged Balls and Stray Arachnids

While walking Bailey through the nearby housing estate yesterday morning, I noticed these stray footballs on the other side of a very high fence, as impenetrable as a barrier surrounding a prison. It's at least eight feet high with sharp metal at the top to prevent anyone from climbing over. I suppose if your football or basketball somehow winds up on the other side of that fence you just have to live with it, because there's no way to get it back. Of course, my mind immediately set about trying to figure out ways to defeat the system -- a long pole? Chewing gum?

Yesterday was another quiet day at home. I read a New Yorker, including a profile of Johnny Knoxville, the ringleader of the gang behind the "Jackass" films. Apparently there's a new one, which seems improbable to me given that Knoxville is practically my age and thus a little long in the tooth to be pulling Jackass stunts. But it made me think Dave might appreciate this franchise, because he loves juvenile humor and, basically, fart jokes.

Years ago I saw the first two Jackass movies and I thought they were pretty funny -- more so than I cared to admit. So last night we rented "Jackass 3," which I'd never seen, and even though it featured Dave-like humor (one gag involved a guy with a trumpet and the above-mentioned bodily function, which seemed written specifically for Dave), he did not like it at all. We turned it off halfway through. Oh well. I would have finished it, at least -- and might still if I have a spare hour over the next day or two.

It's the lowest of low culture, but hey -- I was inspired to watch it by The New Yorker! Doesn't that count for something? The intelligentsia have taken notice!

Here are the owls that guard our patio from their perch on the fence. I found them both in the cemetery years ago and they've hung there for ages, getting gradually more and more rusty. You can see how bedraggled our climbing hydrangea looks after the dry summer.

I walked the dog in the afternoon and I'm proud to say that once again, she didn't bark at any other dogs. She does this thing where she perks up, points her ears and stares, as if to signal "I SEE YOU and I will CUT YOU," but she's now less likely to let loose with a volley of barking. Some of you have suggested that's because she feels more relaxed and less threatened now, and I hope that's true.

It's so funny because she's the opposite with me and Dave -- warm and cuddly to the point of being annoying. She's in my lap all the time.

It's a gloomy morning here -- we may have had a bit of rain, I can't quite tell. I'm off to Mayfair later today for my last shift of stewarding at the RPS street photography exhibit. It's the last day of the show so hopefully we'll get some visitors. There's a 90 percent chance of rain for the day, so at least I'll be indoors.

Dave snapped this photo of a household visitor on Vivian Swift's watercolor portraits of Olga. Surprise! It is spider season, after all.