Rainbow Sprinkles Is a Unicorn? No Way!!!

Things have been upside-down, inside-out, topsy-turvy, willy-nilly, hither and yon, and at sixes and sevens lately, leading to a shameful neglect of many things, such as the garden, dog walking, and this blog. Hence a lazy blog post featuring a round-up of most excellent signs spotted around the area.

This pair of signs in Duvall makes me wonder if one person owns both businesses:

Speaking of sweets, this sign appeared in a local grocery store recently, and made me wonder just what this advertised confection intervention might involve:

" John Doe, you stand accused of removing tags from pillows.
Have some chocolate. How do you plead, guilty or not guilty?" 

The item below is actually a product, not a sign, but as nobody else is around to tell me what I can and can't put on the blog, here it is. I see things like this and think (a) amazing what the human mind can dream up, (b) amazing what the remains of ancient plants and dinosaurs can be turned into, and (c) I can't imagine what the people in foreign countries who work in appalling factory conditions must think when they are asked to manufacture these things for the U.S. market. And yet: of course one needs a unicorn sprinkler in order to put rainbow sprinkles on cupcakes and ice cream. It would be so utterly perfect for teatime with a cow-shaped creamer on the table.

I think the non-Niall and non-Harry members of the band One Direction could really use some Sprinkles the Unicorn cheer. We encountered the sign below at the Pike Place Market around Christmastime. Imagine coming upon a group of cardboard standees of yourself and realizing that you are overstock while these two blokes have sold out and are on backorder. Oh, the sting of rejection.

And finally--this sign in Wedgewood  made us wonder where the dirty customers park when they bring in their dry cleaning.

Bye, Bye, Hummingbirds

In the scant two weeks between now and my last blog post about the hummingbird nest in my friend's garden, the hummingbird chicks have gone from being nothing more than floppy little appetites with stubby, gaping beaks to needle-billed birds with buzzing wings. They now hang out with their mom in a treetop, where she defends them and feeds them with as much vigor as she did when they were tucked in the nest. My friend R.'s pictures are below. Enjoy!

The empty nest.