More about Operation Potcake!

I've gone from sporadic blogger to published-in-the-newspaper person!
This article was published two days ago.  It's part of an ongoing series that's building up to the start of Operation Potcake in January.  If you'd like to donate to this campaign, please visit the Animal Balance website (be sure to specify it's for Operation Potcake!).  Thank you for reading, and donating!

Operation Potcake

It's coming!  In January 2013, several generous volunteers will be descending on the island of New Providence to help spay and neuter our stray dogs.  Over the course of ten days (January 10th to 21st, 2013, with two days off in the middle), the goal is to spay and neuter 2,000 animals.  This effort is being coordinated by Animal Balance, The Bahamas Humane Society, Baark!, and several other local organizations.
You can find more information about it here.
If you're able to donate to the cause, please visit Animal Balance's website and be sure to say it's for Operation Potcake.  If you're in the Bahamas, or will be here in January 2013, and would like to help out, please email me at potcake2013@gmail.com to see where you can assist.  You can also find Operation Potcake on Facebook.
Thanks for your support and we'll see you in January!

Igor

Of course, there's more to the story than that!
Igor was an attempt by my online friend blackdragon71 to create a Neglected Dragon from a spitfire egg. I'd logged onto Skype earlyish one more to assist her and she jokingly called me Igor. The Igor theme remained through our conversation that morning and the dragon, which did not turn and become a Neglected, was accordingly named Igor. Igor gendered female.

Here is Igor's description as originally written by blackdragon71:

Any normal egg would have hatched long before reaching a day and an hour left to survive. But this little egg was not so fortunate. Someone had seriously neglected it, and no doubt, the tiny dragon inside must have felt unloved and unwanted. Imagine its joy when it was picked up from a pile of many such abandoned eggs, and taken to a cave that it was going to be able to call home. Once there, though, the egg was set aside on a shelf and covered in a mysterious, foggy substance. From without, the baby inside could hear a ticking sound that sounded like its mother's heart should have, but there was no warm breath to help it out of its shell. Instead, a few minutes before its time was up, the fog was lifted from the egg, and two voices sounded around it, proclaiming that they hoped it would 'turn,' and talking about things like 'lab coats' and 'switches.' And what was this feeling of being watched, all of a sudden? From the freezing cold of no contact with flesh and blood, to so many hands and voices in less than ten minutes? It felt like it was being view-bombed! Surely that was death, and it hadn't deserved that. It had never asked to be born, but by the gods, if there were any, it was going to live! It would show the world that it wasn't going to be anyone's crazy experiment. So it pecked and scratched at its tough prison walls, until they began to crack and it created a hole large enough to crawl through. Bright light (for it was a Saturday morning) struck its eyes, but it made out two forms that it marked as its captors. They smiled, albeit with disappointment, saying that it had hatched 'normal,' but at least it hadn't died. "We shall name it Igor," said one of the humans, picking it up gently and placing it with others of its kind, "It'll be even funnier if it genders female." And the little dragon did indeed, grow up to be a girl. The ordeal of being neglected for so long stole her voice, however, and the only noise she is capable of making is a croak that sounds somewhat like, "Yes, Massssstah..."

Unfortunately, this version turned out to be more than double the length of the allowed 1,000 characters so the description had to be pared dramatically. Here's the final version:

Someone forgot about the egg that became Igor. It must have felt joy when it was taken from a pile of other such eggs and thought it was going to be wanted. Yet the egg was set aside and hidden in a mysterious fog. Only minutes before it should have died, it was uncovered and voices spoke, saying that they hoped it would turn, and talking about things like 'lab coats' and 'switches.' From no contact to so many hands and voices in less than ten minutes; it felt like it was being bombed with attention! Surely that was death. Well, it was going to live! It scratched at its shell until it cracked and made a hole large enough to crawl through. Brightness struck its eyes, but it made out two forms. They smiled, albeit with disappointment, saying that it had hatched 'normal.' "We should name it Igor," said one. "It'll be funny if it genders female." The ordeal of being neglected stole her voice, and the only noise she makes is a croak that sounds somewhat like, "Yes, Mahssstah..."

The Eggy Give-Away

At Dragon Cave Forums, there's a trading thread called the Eggy Give-Away. The stories are usually written by a user named Stealthypugs but every so often there's a user-written story. This was my contribution to the "radioactivity" themed story:

"Yessss, Mahsssstah," Igor muttered to herself as she rummaged about in LAGIE'S KITCHEN. She knew the recipe for Lagie's infamous brownies had to be here somewhere but she didn't seem to be able to locate it. She wasn't even really supposed to be in the kitchen at all. She'd been asked to eggsit that evening while Lagie and blackdragon went off egg hunting. The four eggs, A PINK, A VINE, A CRIMSON FLARE AND AN AUTUMN SEASONAL were quietly sitting at the kitchen table watching Igor curiously.
Igor decided to give up on the recipe and started adding things to a bowl. In went some flour, in went a few stale raisins, in went a couple of regular eggs, shells and all. The eggies thought this looked like fun so they began to hand Igor things they found in the kitchen. The pink eggy gave her a vial of a clear colourless liquid. The vine eggy passed over some brown sugar. The crimson flare eggy looked on the floor and handed up a small snail that had been slowly oozing by. The autumn seasonal eggy went searching in the back of the pantry and finally handed Igor a container marked "Biohazard! Radioactive waste." Igor added everything to the bowl and began to stir.
The mixture in the bowl was lumpy and kind of dry but it began to glow as Igor stirred. The eggs watched in fascination, then ooh'd and ahh'd at themselves as they too began to glow when the mixture splattered them. Finally, Igor pronounced the mixture ready, poured it into a baking dish, and put it in the oven. She fumbled with the controls and set them as high as they would possibly go. The brownies would cook faster that way, she thought.
Igor turned away from the oven to check on the eggs. They were still admiring their glow when there was suddenly a loud BOOM! Igor found herself thrown across the room. When she was once again able to stand, Igor looked frantically for the eggs but to no avail. They were nowhere to be seen, having been thrown by the blast a much greater distance than Igor was. They were well and truly gone. The pink had landed in the home of number 60, xHiddenx, the vine in that of number 42, TheGrox, the crimson flare in that of number 50, Lalaz4, and the autumn seasonal in that of number 17, FaithSilverwolf.
How was she ever going to explain this to Lagie?

Three of my four eggs were claimed. The fourth languished on my scroll, hatched, and finally grew up. I decided to keep the unclaimed eggy and accordingly named it Unclaimed Eggy. Here is his description:

On the day that blackdragon71's Igor tried to bake brownies in Lagie's kitchen, Shylock found himself flung far from Lagie's cave and onto the doorstep of another. The owner of that cave never appeared, and Shylock finally rolled himself back to Lagie's cave. Lagie took him back in, washed the radioactive goo off him, and raised him to adulthood. Shylock was horrified when Lagie wrote his name as 'Unclaimed Eggy' on the scroll. He keeps insisting his name is Shylock, but Lagie refuses to change it.

How Do You Take Care of a Dinosaur?

[When I assign creative writing stories to my students, I often write one myself.]
[The prompt:] When dad came home from his trip to South America, he brought me a large, yellow, spotted egg that he bought from a street vendor. The vendor told him it was a very special egg. I couldn't wait for it to hatch. Was I ever surprised when it did! I turned to my dad and said, "I might be mistaken, but that sure looks like a dinosaur!" How do you take care of a dinosaur?
[My story:] At first, when the dinosaur was small, I was able to keep it in my bedroom. It would curl up in my dog's old bed and sleep most of the day. The library book I borrowed and the three horns on its head told me it was a triceratops. I knew it would outgrow my room very quickly. It was eating lettuce and grass as fast as we could provide it. Each night, I had to sneak it outside for a walk.
The day soon came when its horns brushed the sides of the bedroom door as we went out for our walk. On that day, it moved into a large shed that my dad had built in the backyard. I took the old dog bed out so it wouldn't feel lonely. By now the dinosaur was eating twice as much as it had before. We had to arrange with a local landscaping company to collect their cuttings just to keep up with its appetite. Often it would amble out of the yard at night. We had several complaints from our neighbours about mutilated hedges.
Finally, my dad called the zoo. They were astonished but sent someone out immediately to have a look at my dinosaur. The man gaped and stared and spluttered but eventually managed to ask where it had come from. My dad and I told him the story of the street vendor and the egg. I told him how I'd cared for it since it had hatched. The man from the zoo said he'd see what he could do for us.
Fortunately, the man was able to help us. The zoo had a large empty enclosure, and my dinosaur went to live there. We sent the old dog bed with it so it wouldn't forget us. The enclosure is large enough for my dinosaur to wander at will, and there are many tasty hedges for it to munch. The zoo veterinarian tells me my dinosaur is a boy. I go every Saturday to visit him, and I do think he remembers me.

Where I've Been...

Wow! I hadn't realized it had been so long since I last posted! In April, I joined a website called Dragon Cave and I have been spending a lot of my online time at the Forums there. If you'd care to check it out, it's http://dragcave.net/user/Lagie and from there you can link to the Forums. At the Cave, you can adopt and raise virtual dragons. You adopt eggs, and once they hatch, you can name them and breed them (most of them). At the Forums, you can join in many discussions and games. If you come and join us there, you'll understand how I managed to neglect this for so long!

Nassau Driving

Nassauvians (people from Nassau) live on an island that is 21 miles long by 7 miles wide. The island itself is called New Providence but most people tend to ignore that fact and just call the whole island Nassau. The Town of Nassau lies a little to the east of centre on the north side of the island.

Tonight, I went to choir practice. I'm house sitting in a place called Sandyport which lies well to the west of town but not extrememly far west. Choir practice was at a church at the eastern side of the centre of town. I was surprised by the number of people who were surprised that I had drive 'so far' to come to practice.

Far in Nassau is measured by asking yourself, "Do I need to drive through town to go there?" If the answer is yes, then it's far. If you live east and someone out west invites you over, you need to drive through town. Some Nassauvians won't accept the invitation. Ditto for people who live west being invited somewhere to the east.

Town can add thirty minutes or more to your trip, depending upon the time of day at which you are driving. All the jitneys, ALL the jitneys (the local buses) have their starting/ending points in town. Cruise ships arrive in town. School kids go to town when school is dismissed. Town is a very busy place.

I am a Nassauvian, by birth, by paternal lineage, by current residence. My driving habits are still measured by Canadian distances. 21 miles is nothing when you're used to driving long stretches of highway with fields or mountains around you. In a day, I have been known to put close to 50 miles on my car, in Nassau, usually having passed through town twice. Going out for an evening to one end of the island or the other doesn't faze me. Getting stuck in after school traffic is something I try to avoid whenever possible, but it still doesn't stop me from driving. I hope that town will never come between me and the things I want to do.

P. S. I want a Puma! I wonder how it would work in Nassau!http://edition.cnn.com/video/#/video/business/2009/04/07/dcl.valdesdapena.puma.car.cnn

P. P. S. The photo credit for this one belongs to my cousin, Elena!