Baby, I could use a meal

Dear Cyberfriends, the family and I returned safely to town yesterday after a very pleasant few days on Mayne Island. Alas, we found nary an otter to bother. However, we did have visitations from both an enormous, ungainly raven (that quoth not, I must report, "Nevermore") and a bevy of roufus hummingbirds, whose earnest and passionate flutterings were a joy to watch. I also did battle with a nasty, yet impressive slime mold that had taken up residence in the hot tub, but you really don't want to hear about that...

Unfortunately but unsurprisingly the weather was a very mixed bag, and we were therefore forced to hole up at times to stay dry. While I chopped wood, stoked the fire, and strained my back, (what's a city boy like me doing playing lumberjack??) the kids watched "101 Dalmatians" over and over. Not the recent live-action flick, mind you, but the charming 1961 animated version. My, my, my, that film sure has bags of style. I mean, isn't Cruella just the most divine coke-hag in all of Toontown? And Pongo and Perdita - such wonderfully clipped BBC RP accents! I couldn't help but think, however, that hailing from Dalmatia they should've by rights been given husky Slavic voices edged with travarica brandy. But then again, I have an extremely soft spot in my soul for Croats owing to an intense yet unrequited love when I was but a yoof (*deep sigh*). Anyway, I digress- we were entranced and sang "Cruella De Vil" ad nauseam for most of the weekend.

On the matrimonial side, things got a wee bit strained when Dearest Wife informed me on Friday that she had packed neither the Mimolette, nor the Manchego, nor the Sainte Maure. She claims I had agreed to her proposal to leave them behind, a charge that I vehemently denied but which I now admit could very well have been true, especially if at the time my mind was preoccupied with what tracks to put on the mp3 player for the car journey. Anyway, my petulant moping was only partly mollified by the appearance of a bit of Tiger Blue, a local BC cheese that had managed to accompany us. It was rather pleasant, but its rich creaminess lacked the follow-on, kick-up-the-jacksie taang that Cashel Blue does so well. Je suis si snob. So I moped silently until our return on Monday to a celebratory lunch of the abandoned fromage, when I finally forgave Dearest (not that she really needed forgiving). We made up, but did not kiss, on account of the fact that I stank like goat cheese.

Speaking of smoochies, I see there is a full-fledged spat going between dwarf Kiss tribute bands. Apparently MiniKiss singer Joey Fatale has accused the band's ex-drummer, "Little" Tim Loomisc, of stealing his idea and setting up a rival little people's version of the greasepainted glam rockers, Tiny Kiss. Pop Pickers, I couldn't make this stuff up. I remember being totally blown away at the tender age of eight by "Dressed to Kill" - heaven knows how that album made its way into my tender hands. Only I thought the song "Room Service" really was about ensuite hotel dining. Ah, innocence...

Herewith a few morsels to chew over:

101 Dalmatians OST - Cruella De Vil (buy here)
Icicle Works - Birds Fly [Whisper to a Scream] (buy here)
Ash - Girl From Mars (buy here)
Kiss - Love Gun (buy here)