Mutiny!

Well, did I ever have a fright when I awoke this morning and saw this on my way to the coffee pot!
They seemed hell-bent on making an escape....seemingly oblivious to the frigid 50-degree temperatures outside. Fortunately I didn't have to call the ladybug police, as they hadn't gotten very far down the sidewalk. In fact, some of them were in the process of making a U-turn....probably having thought better of their grand idea and remembering how nice and toasty it was inside.

And yesterday, before any hint of the ladybug rebellion, we had a bit of excitement in our neighborhood. Seems there's always something exceptionally newsworthy when Mr. G. and I come to town. Both the Prez and the Queen came for a visit. Mr. Bush made quite a racket when he arrived, what with a dozen Marine helicopters coming and going most of the morning and into the afternoon.

He was paying a call on, of all things, a helicopter factory at the local airport, where he made some sort of a speech. I can only wonder if he waited for the pilots to shut down their engines before he spoke. Then again, maybe seeing him is better than hearing him. Heh...heh...

Unlike the Prez, the Queen slipped into town very quietly. The new Queen Victoria sailed into the local port for a short stop on her maiden voyage world tour. She took on a few passengers and departed later that afternoon--with a minimum of fanfare--for Honolulu and then on to Australia and New Zealand. I should've gone down there and slipped aboard myself. I'm sure it would have been much more fun than staying here dealing with this lot of rebellious insects....

And poor Mr. Gadget. He was recently spotted by the code-enforcing curmudgeons and called on the carpet for putting cardboard in the trash dumpster. We now believe there is a code-enforcing network here at the condo, with a bevy of spies stationed around the complex to nab criminals like Mr. G. Our building representative, a very nice lady named Ruth, had the unpleasant task of delivering the news. When Mr. G. asked her who had reported him, she said "Ann somebody from over there," pointing in three different directions. Apparently the trash dumpster rules have been updated since we were here last, and now cardboard must be recycled.

Mr. Gadget fears this might be like one of those IRS audits, where once they get you, you're forever under surveillance. Now I'm wondering if I should burn my tissue paper and felt scraps, and those yarn ends from the afghan. There may be rules governing such waste. And can you imagine what a ruckus there would have been if I'd overslept this morning and hordes of ladybugs were on the loose?