Star Sighting

The massive photo of Bono in yesterday’s Vancouver Sun entertainment section gives me pause to reflect that last Saturday at our weekly jogging group I think I experienced a Bono sighting in Burnaby’s Central Park. Of course, not knowing his recreational pursuits I don’t know if Bono is a jogger. But if he is, I saw a fellow matching his general description of medium height and build with yellow-tinted glasses and facial stubble (wearing a hat, perhaps as disguise?) approach us on a trail near the duck pond going the opposite direction. It’s not often one sees yellow-tinted lenses, and one thing I do know is that such lenses are a Bono trademark. I seem to remember that they aren’t simply a mega-star attention-getter; he does suffer from a condition that requires him to wear coloured lenses.

I may not have been alert to the possibility of a Bono sighting that morning except for the fact that a few nights ago I experienced a 90s musical flashback as I walked my dog in our neighbourhood. As I covered the blocks I could swear that I was hearing snippets of U2 music being carried by the breeze. It’s not unusual that occasionally when the wind is blowing south we can hear bits of concerts at BC Place or Rogers Arena. As I "turn the key and slowly unlock the door, A man breathes into his saxophone" I thought I recognized “Bullet the Blue Sky”. I used to play that double live CD on road trips to Seattle in my youth; cranked of course.

Perhaps he was simply looking for a place where the trails have no names. But in that case Bono still hasn’t found what he’s looking for as the trails in Central Park are indeed named. We passed each other on the Terry Fox 5 km trail.

May the Fourth Be With You Little Squirrel!

I was rearranging some stuff in the back of my car late this afternoon, wearing sandals, when I felt a tickling sensation on one foot. I instinctively whipped my foot away thinking it was maybe a spider. It’s been my experience that usually one shake will suffice for such an encounter.

But it happened again. Same tickling, same outrageous reflex.

This time I looked under the car. You’d never guess what caused the disruption; a baby squirrel!

 

Just then my neighbours were walking past with their small daughter on their way to get ice cream on the first warm summer-like evening we’ve had this cold Spring. Needless to say their daughter was thrilled, but a bit cautious as well, at seeing such an inquisitive little creature up close. The squirrel was either disoriented, hungry, or simply was too young to have developed a fear of humans. It seemed intent on nibbling human feet or shoes, so a volunteer went into the house to get some sunflower seeds.

 

After a few photos, and more neighbours arriving to “ooh and ahh” it was decided after a quick phone call to animal services that the little squirrel would be better served in care of an animal shelter close by. We surmised by the lack of any angry chattering from the trees from adult squirrels that the parents were not anywhere close by. I supplied a shoe box (with a handy air hole already provided; thanks “un-named” shoe company!) and my neighbor chauffeured the curious squirrel to the animal shelter, along with his curious daughter in tow trying her best not to lift the lid of the box lest her new furry friend escape.