Daily Archives: January 8, 2018

Pet Parade . . .

After being out all last week due to Jan’s illness it was actually good to be back at work today.

Of course I had a lot of stuff to catch up on, but the big problem was that right after I got in we found that the webserver email system had crashed completely. This means that no one gets a confirmation email for their order. Nor can we send out any emails on the company account.

I did finally get it limping back to life, but this problem has just reinforced my determination to get the Zen Cart shopping cart off this server and up on Godaddy. That way I can also set up the email there too and not have to worry about all this again.

It didn’t help things that workers were in and out of my office replacing the sheetrock ceiling that was damaged during Harvey, either.

I’m still really enjoying relearning Spanish with the Duolingo app. And they were right. It is fun and addictive. And it is working. I noticed this evening that when I was clicking thru the Spanish stations on the DirecTV channel guide, I could read most the program titles.


Over the years we’ve come across a lot of RV’ers who travel with unusual pats – Ferrets, Nubian Pygmy Goats, Monkeys, Iguanas, large tortoises, a pot-belly pig, parrots and cockatoos, and even six large St. Bernard show dogs in a small camper. Watching them all come out was like watching a clown car.

And the Full-Time RV-traveling nurse I met at the hospital fits right into this. She and her husband travel with TWO ferrets and a Sugar Glider.

Sugar Glider 1

A Sugar Glider, like a flying squirrel, can glide from one side of the room (or coach) to the other.

Sugar Glider 2

But while flying squirrels are rodents, sugar gliders are actually marsupials like a kangaroo.

When I was a kid I had a pet flying squirrel that I raised from a baby. it was perfectly tame, and whenever I would walk out on the large screen-in porch where he usually stayed, he would swoop down and land on my shoulder waiting for a peanut or a piece of carrot. I could even take him outside and he never tried to get away. He would just ride around in my shirt pocket with his head poking up looking around.
I had him for 5 or 6 years until I gave him to a friend when we moved to South America.

And what was the name of my pet flying squirrel, you might ask?

Well, Rocky, of course.

The Headline of the Day:
Wild turkeys terrorizing mailmen, thwarting deliveries for weeks.

Thought for the Day:

Experience is a good teacher, but she’s terribly expensive.


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