Batten the Hatches.....

Crazy, I know, but we are hosting a Sweet 16 bash tonight  for Em on the Back Forty (feet, not acres).  Unlike the MTV show under the same name, there will be no fancy dresses, rappers, or expensive gifts of vehicles with bows on their roofs--nope. It's gonna be a bonfire in the backyard and a bunch of kids hanging out, plain and simple.

That said, I've still got boat loads of stuff to do before the house is overrun with teens.  The grass is nearly knee deep and I have to find my patio furniture in the back of the shed.  (What is it with those sheds--they look so small from the outside, but good luck finding a damn thing in them. Ugh.) Then I have to suddenly get my yard cleaned up and party-ready--all in a matter of hours.Yikes.

Oh--Hobbes found one of my little frogs out in the yard yesterday, so our frog numbers are back up to a whopping total of  TWO. Hooray.  I'm thinking the grass was so deep and wet from a week's worth of rain and homeboy was taking a little frog walk.  Hobbes just happened to find him--and I just happened to find Hobbes staring and poking the frog, right before the poor little thing died of fright.  He's back in the pond now, all swimmy and happy and so on. The frog I mean, not Hobbes. He does not like to swim in the pond.
 
So, life is good--I've got a great kid turning Sweet 16 this week, Grace is done peeing on everything in the house, and Hobbes saved a frog before it went "Flat Stanley".  Add in a yard full of nutty teens, an eye-rolling husband who tolerates such madness, and a week so jam-packed that I could never be bored.  Who can ask for more?

Not me. I'm exhausted from all this happy.

Gettin' my Wedding Gear On

I am anticipating that I'm gonna be very alone in this, but I am VERY excited for the Royal Wedding.  And yes, I will be setting the alarm and dragging my jammie-clad bod over to the couch for all of the coverage starting at 3:00 a.m. on Friday.  So far, none of my family is volunteering to get up with me, but I'll bet my bottom dollar that two furry friends will be joining me to cop some body heat, if not enjoy the event and my blankie.

Before you go and tell me how it is all silly, a waste of money in these economic times, and how they should do away with the monarchy, I'm just gonna tell you how much I love this royal stuff.  Give me princes and princesses, glass horse-drawn carriages, and royal protocol any day--I love it.  And in these crappy times, why not turn to a little bit of good old-fashioned love to make us smile. (And I do think these two love each other, by the way.)  I think it is good to celebrate something nice for a change in this wacky media age of Sheen and Lohan and their drug-induced exploits.

All those years ago, I watched as Diana and Charles walked down the aisle. Okay, so we just sort of knew that one wasn't going to last, but who didn't want them to? I mean, I was Diana's age and, dang, if I didn't dream of true love and finding that special "prince".  It was a fairy-tale come to life and it was lovely--every minute detail of it all. 

Maybe it was because we were the same age, or that she was just so darn beautiful, but I loved Princess Diana--warts and all.  She and I were going through marriage and children around the same time and I couldn't wait to see what she was doing and how those kids were growing up.

I was devastated when Diana died.  Seriously, I cried when I got the paper that Sunday morning and read that she was dead.  I just kept thinking about those children--they lost their mother. And being that I lost my dad when I was 7, I knew just how wretched that is for a child--and so I cried. I cried for them, I cried for her--that her life was so messed up, and I cried that the fairy tale was over--tragically over. 

I woke up early for her wedding, her funeral, and I will, again, wake up early to see her first-born getting married.  If girlfriend can't be there for his day, then dammit, I will. And I will enjoy every nuance, every detail, every over-played, overly dramatic minute of that wedding.

As for William and Kate--I wish them love--the love that wasn't truly there the first time around with that first Royal Wedding.  Wouldn't that be a fine ending to the story?  I think so--I like happy endings too.

I Love Hobbes Thursday

I think if this was socially acceptable, I'd be laying in the grass too.  It's just so good to see some green again after a long winter of mud and snow. And nobody is enjoying it more than Hobbes.

It's good to be Hobbes, you know.

Semi-Wordless Wednesday

Some days just feel like this, don't they?

I'll rest in eternity

I'm one of those people who makes work for herself.  If there is an hour before a dinner party, I'm sewing napkins before folks get here.   If there is 5 minutes of free time in my schedule, I'm sweeping the patio.  You don't find me on the couch too often--I don't rest much. That's just me.

I'm finding my blog cow dry these days--the stories aren't coming because I'm busy creating work for myself. Em has a perfectly good garter to wear for prom, but I have to go and make a hot pink and zebra print one so that it's extra cool.  And then I go and offer to make her friend one too--and of course, that has to be completely different from Em's. Not that I'm complaining, I love this stuff--it's just that I'm feeling busy, that's all.

Grace got new medication the other day because she was projectile vomiting on the old stuff.  Talk about work--cleaning cat barf from the couch, bed, rug, floor, tile, bathroom, etc. was getting to me....and her.  Now I just have to convince her to eat the new chewable meds--over and over and over again.  So the time I used to spend cleaning up barf, I'm now convincing the cat how yummy the new pills are.  Compared to the barf, I'll take coercion any day.

Feeling pooped, I went out with my flashlight last night to check on the frogs--make that "frog" --as in singular.  We are down to one very chubby suspect frog.  I'm beginning to wonder if homeboy ate some of his pallies.  I love nature, don't you? Ugh.

Anywho, I spied with my flashlight a surviving snail from last summer.  Typically the snails don't survive the frigid temps and freezing water, but this guy did. Hooray! And talk about hard workers--sheesh. I love those darn snails because they never stop cleaning. Ever. Their sole purpose in life is to munch on the algae in the pond, cleaning the sides and making everything all spic and span.  I'm thinking they don't rest much either.

I spied my first yellow-jacket this weekend. He, too, was working away, gathering nectar from what little flowers were in the yard.  He never noticed I was there--he was all butt-in-the-air going to town on his little bee job.  Again, my kinda guy.

It's good to know that I'm not alone in my endless jobs.  And when I'm feeling overwhelmed and tired, I think of that darn bee and snail who join me in this madness....and then I feel really guilty for sitting down for a minute.

That ain't no Easter Bunny

Joe and I put on our not-so-Easter-best (jeans and hoodies) and took to the streets for a bit 'o exercise yesterday.  Touring Weirdville is always an experience and being that we haven't been walking during the winter months, it was fun to see what was up around the 'hood.  Heck, it was finally warm and not raining, so it was good to get out and about again.

I typically get out of Dodge for walks because it disgusts me how folks don't take care of their property here in Weirdville.  And while I'm all about "doing your own thing" and such, we just live too close here for such neglect of houses and yards.  I get that this goes on everywhere, but I don't seem to notice it too much when the 'hood isn't mine--so I go for bike rides and walks in the next town over. I don't know why we stuck around here yesterday, but we did. Ugh.

There is one house in particular that irks the bajeepers out of me, and yes, someday I will get brave and take photos.  It's a nightmare--and it has been for as long as we have lived here--21 years. It is a raised ranch with a deck that someone decided to build on their own, including 12 foot posts that shoot up to the sky. There is metal scaffolding that blocks the dining room window on the second floor. There is also a crap-filled garage and a very neglected garden/yard.

I was chastising the owners quietly, wondering aloud to Joe how you live like that for all these years, when we saw a wheelchair on the other side of the driveway.  The chair was empty--the owner was on her hands and knees, puttering in the garden or praying that someone would save her from this hell. We came around the corner of the wheelchair to see this:

Except it wasn't a melon. It was Wheelchair lady's butt crack--plain as day.Yeah/no. Nothing like butt crack to make your Easter brunch back up.

I got to giggling something fierce and Joe was acting like he said something funny because I was out of control. It was too much. All that crap, the scaffolding, the garage crap, the weeds....and butt-crack. Woman's butt crack, no less.

Sigh. A full moon--on Easter Sunday no less.  Welcome to Weirdville.

Happy Easter!

Pop Goes the Garden

Shhhhhh. Can you hear it?  It's the grass--you can hear it growing with all the rain we've been having. 

And the plants in the garden--they went from mere sprouts to leafed out in hours. It's like they lie in wait for a bit of warmth and some rain-filled days and then count to10 and all pop up together. How do they do that? Are they all under the earth counting?

And while the rest of the folks are bemoaning the lack of sunshine, I'm secretly glad because if it heats up, we are gonna need a cow for the lawn.  Sheesh. And it's just gonna add outside work to my list of things that need to be done these days.

Oh,  and Happy  Easter, pallies.

Doesn't it seem that Easter isn't as big as it used to be when we were kids?  Remember Easter dresses, suits, new white hats and gloves, and shoes that pinched your feet?  We used to all get dressed up and go to G'ma's house and eat ham--do folks still do that?  We have a nice dinner, but none of us dress up anymore.  Good thing because I hated that elastic on the hats that went around my chin--it would itch the living bajeepers out of me.

So, enjoy your day with your families. I wish you sunshine and the ability to go outside and check the garden without freezing to death or getting blown away by tornadoes and such.  And may the Easter Bunny bring you good things in your basket!

Frogs of Change

It's odd, but when I find myself searching through frog photos, I realize I'm in a period of change. Subconsciously frogs represent change to me apparently.

I'm feeling frazzled and disconnected.  Lots of things are going on and lots of work needs to be done--both at home and at work.  There isn't an extra hour in the day and everywhere I look, something needs to be done, handled, worked on or cleaned up.  I guess that is spring, right? It's a busy time of year.

At work, change is the theme--my office bud, Jim, is retiring. In an office of many backgrounds, cultures and ages, it's Jim that I connect with most. But then again, I always end up palling around with the old guys--we just connect for some reason.  We get the same jokes and references and laugh at the same stuff, while the rest of the office just stares.  Sigh. I'm really gonna miss my pally.  This is a tough loss on the work front--Jim is a good bud.

In the midst of that anticipated loss in mid-May, we have a plethora of temps stopping in and learning his job for a day or two--before bailing.  Then there was the new safety guy that was supposed to sit in the cube next to Irene--but he bailed too. It's like a turn-style of possible co-workers.  Irene and I are starting to take it personally.

Mixed in with the chaos in the back cubes is home with painting and wall washing. Sheesh, I'm tired.  And I'm tired of change for now.  It's just wearing me out.

I swear those frogs smile at me for a reason. I think they know something more than I do sometimes. That Mona Lisa grin warns me of upheaval and turmoil--both good and bad. And it's just weird how I am drawn to frogs when my life is most turbulent.

I Love Hobbes Thursday -The Amazing Kreskin

He's subtle, isn't he?

Look into his eyes. Read his stripey body language. Feel the message.

Did you get it??  I do--every day. About a cabillion times if I'm home.  I feel a parade coming on.....

Semi-Wordless Wednesday - Scrambling!

Crud. I'm behind on my reading for the Bumbles book chat this Friday night!!  In a total panic, I'm off to spend a few quiet minutes with my cat and my book.  It won't be cool if the person who suggested the book doesn't know the end. Sigh.

Why do I do these things to myself?

Pansies and Me--The Dynamic Duo

It snowed here yesterday. Not at my house as much as up north, but still---it snowed. In April. And its spring.

I bought myself some pansies at the Walmart the other day and planted them in the pots by my front door.  I love pansies and violas--those flowers have some kahunas.  They are the first flowers to bloom after winter and the last to wilt in late fall.  They dare the weather to beat them, and it rarely does.  I like that about them.

I put away my winter coat on April 1 and have refused to put it on since.  Okay, so I'm freaking freezing with the cold and snow, I just won't let go of spring no matter how much winter wants to stick around. And wearing that winter coat tells the world that I have not embraced spring. Or I'm an idiot. A cold idiot.

Whatever.

Me and the pansies--we are sticking together on this one.  It's spring, damn it, and we are enjoying it in spite of the cold. 

Where's the Kitty?

Nothing cures a sick kitty faster than home improvements that involve plastic-covered furniture.  You wouldn't even know that Grace has a bladder infection with all the fun she was having.

We spent the weekend painting Em's room and needless to say, we had lots of help from the cats.  What is it about upheaval that gets them so darn excited?  I swear they were happier than Em to get the room painted.

Just don't sing it at work....

Sorry to ruin your Sunday, but here you go. You'll be singing this all day now--much to the chagrin of your families.

Fun with Me and Grace

Apparently Grace thinks hanging out with me at the vet is fun because she and I went again yesterday.  And while you'd think that she wouldn't enjoy the car ride, you'll be surprised to know that she was singing all the way there and back home. Loudly. From the back seat. 

Sigh.

So, I thought Grace was all fine after her bought with the urinary tract infection a few weeks ago, but she wasn't. I guess she didn't want to tell me that she wasn't feeling well, so she just went around leaving me secret messages in subtle places--like her bag in the kitchen, on folded clothes on the bed, and on my comforter. There is something about cat pee that gets your attention pretty quickly.  Criminy, can't she just curl up under the couch like other cats do?? Sheesh.

Away we went for more fun at the vet and this time she got TWO bottles of antibiotic, which means I have a full two weeks of cat wrestling/medicine-giving twice a day. Doesn't that sound like fun?? (Who wants to be me??)  After an ultrasound and a urinalysis, it turns out poor Grace has a bladder infection--which does not sound very comfortable. I guess I don't blame her for peeing everywhere--poor thing is feeling pretty low.

I took this photo of her while we were waiting for the results from her tests and you can see she was having a blast with me.  This is what happens when you and your sick cat are left in a patient room at the vet clinic--we were bored and so I commenced photo-taking with my phone. And that was after we chatted about being sick, going for car rides, how much she hates Hobbes, and texting Joe.  Sigh.

The doctor walked in right as I was talking to Grace, taking her photo, and laughing about her grumpy face.  The doctor didn't see the humor in it all so I didn't go into the whole blog explanation--she already thought we were weird enough.  (Doesn't everyone chat with their cat at the vet??) Sheesh. We make fun everywhere--even at the vet.
 
Now if I can only figure out how to make all that medicine dispensing fun....

Lights of Spring

I grew up with a brother and raised a son of my own, and if there is one sure sign of spring, it is baseball.  And while weather may or may not agree with the season, the Little League field lights never lie.  They were on the other night, shining on the front of our house from two blocks over--I'd say it is officially spring.

I have logged years watching baseball and Little League. If we weren't freezing or sweating our hineys off at the local ball park, we were watching White Sox baseball on TV. This is what life is like when you live with boys.

Baseball is one of those things I miss about Colin growing up. Evenings were planned--we were at the field grabbing a concession stand dinner and settling in on our folding chairs for a little entertainment.  Some games were better than others, but they were never dull. And the parents even more so. Gees, I don't miss Little League parents--dads in particular.  They are some competitive creatures.

It's sad now that I see those lights and I don't have anyone playing at the fields anymore.  I sit out in the yard and hear the ping of the bat, knowing that there is someone's kid out there on that field growing up way too fast.  I think of the mom's bundled up, handing cash over to the little ones to buy anything sugar at the concession stand, and the dads in the dugout discussing pitching rules with each other.  Somehow I don't think things have changed much over the years.

I can remember sitting there thinking that some of those games would never end.  I look back now and realize how truly fast they were.  How come we didn't know that then?

I Love Hobbes Thursday--The Parade of Stripeyness

I know we are all creatures of habit, but Hobbes has GOT to be the worst.  It's like he has OCD or something.  Not that there is anything wrong with that--well, unless I want to get to work on time or do something other than hold the door open for him for hours.  Sheesh.

The above is a simple drawing of our family room.  It  includes nice things like couches, a rug, a coffee table and Hobbes favorite thing ever--the cat door to outside.

And while he begs to go out, homeboy just can't bring himself to actually walk to the door and go out.  Nope. There is this whole silly routine that he goes through before he actually goes out the door. And while this routine is nifty and all, it is annoying because it takes him on a freaking tour of the whole family room while I stand there and wait....and wait.....and wait .....to let him out. Sigh.

Note the black cat paws--these mark the most logical and quickest path to the back door from the rest of the house.  It requires minimal steps and gets a certain kitty out the door super-fast to go chase bugs and other assorted intruders in our yard.  Make note that this is NOT the path that Hobbes uses to go out.

Now, take a gander at the red cat paws--these mark the most ridiculous path to the door EVER.  It starts out great, but it soon goes under the coffee table, over the rug, around the rocker, over to the door to see if it's nice outside and then circles back, around the small couch, under the window, and THEN to the door. THIS is the path that Hobbes takes. Sigh. 

It's hell every freaking day.  AND every freaking time he wants to go out.  So, if it is cold and I don't leave access to the cat door available, homeboy does this dance a good 5-15 times a day. (I'd like to make a note here that I would like to have a life other than holding the door open for a certain orange stripey cat.)

And god forbid if the weather is inclimate and he can't decide IF he really does want to go out after his parade of stripeyness--we can do this entire dance and he won't go out.  It is at this point that I threaten death as an option.

Ugh. This is my life. 

3 years and 991 posts down......

It is the rare occasion that you get me as the photo here at the Duck and Wheel.  Oh, I've got frogs and flowers and stripey cats and such, but rarely do you ever get a smiley-me shot on the post. Today is my 3 year anniversary of starting this blog journey, of telling my tales of sheer boredom and wackiness, and I thought I might combine my photo with my writing--just this once.  And besides, sometimes I just get tired of being behind the camera all the time.

My blogging journey started with the mixture of a creative writing class, boredom, the impending down-sizing of my current stay-at-home-mom career, and a gentle nudge from author Jon Katz.  I liked to write as a child, but now I noticed as I got older that I had more tales to tell of everyday life and less fiction.  I just find that there are stories in the mundane--we just have to look for them.

And while this whole blog thing started as a temporary thing, I certainly got hooked fast enough. I started to write more concise, more spur-of-the-moment, less editing, and started adding some photos.  I met some incredible people along the way and now I can't imagine life without the online diary.  The adventures in my life are now measured by whether or not it can transfer to the blog and  if the "pallies" will laugh as much as I did.

I'm grateful to the pallies who laugh with me, humor me when I'm goofy, cheer me up when things are down, and consistently come to visit and comment on whatever is going on each day.  Writing is no fun unless those words are read, and the Duck and Wheel would be nothing without you all.

Thanks for reading, pallies!  And while I'm 9 posts shy of 1000, know that I've got a few more wacky tales in me.  And as long as there are ponds, backyards,  stripey cats, goofy neighbors and silly co-workers, I will try to find something humorous in it all.  Or not.

Tales from the not-so-very deep

Being that the past few days were warm and sunny, the pond has cleared and everybody who is alive is pretty much visible at this point.  The frogs are done sleeping and the fish are back to munching on algae again--a sure sign that spring has sprung.

The frog count is disappointingly low and I'm not sure what happened to everyone, but we have a mere two frogs--down from the eight we went into winter with.  Sigh.  I'm not sure if it was because of the snow, a hungry raccoon, or if they left me for better digs, but I'm sad to see such low numbers.  The only other time we were decimated like this was The Great Frog Disaster '08, when the majority of my frogs died in the skimmer.  Then a fungus went through the remaining frogs and I was left with only one or two.

Keeping the frogs and fish outside year round keeps them wild and we don't treat them as pets.  Nobody gets a name and it is the rare occasion that they come inside for any reason.  I brought one guy in the other day, but I released him on Friday.  He hung around for a day, but after a strong rain, he's gone.  I rescued him from the yard initially, so he may have been on his way anyway.  Sometimes they do that for various reasons--mainly breeding and territorial disputes.

I feel bad losing such great numbers, but the garden store and Mother Nature provide me with more tadpoles and frogs to replenish the population each year.  It's fun to look out some days and see new visitors who pop in--just like it is sad to see someone leave us too.  It's the gamble of the yard and the call of the wild--you never know why they come or why they leave.  I had someone at the reptile store tell me once "They have small brains and large legs--you figure it out." Yeah, I get it.

So, while we mourn the loss of so many, we have to celebrate the two that survived and stuck around.  They have ample opportunity to leave for better waters, but I guess they like our wee pond a bit.  I'll be out there in days to come, photographing and annoying the bajeepers out of them--but right now, I'm giving them a bit of space to warm their cold frog bodies. 

And while we celebrate those who survive, I'm happy to report that those wacky minnows are doing well. Even the babies made it through the winter, which always surprises me. 

No word on the snails yet.  I'll have to do a little digging in the mulch to find them, but they don't typically make it through the ice and snow.  That said, the spring after The Great Frog Disaster brought me one surviving snail, so you never know.  I'll keep you updated.

The pond offers so many tales--some good, some bad.  And while there is sadness and loss, it never fails to regenerate with life.  And it is that promise of life that makes it so wonderful to have in the yard.

Mary Todd has Rabbit Ears

G'ma Phyl and I hit the road this past weekend to visit with Colin.  And while our visit with him was nice, our extended adventures proved interesting as we headed downtown Springfield to see the sights and the new Lincoln Museum.

Maybe it was me goofin' with the Lincoln's, but G'ma Phyl and I learned the hard way that those who work at the Lincoln Museum are some pretty crabby folks.

While I may have set them off with the rabbit ears, G'ma Phyl actually got yelled at by some mean old lady. Well.....she didn't get yelled at actually---I did--for what she was doing.  G'ma Phyl actually dared to touch the mannequins that are set out in the middle of the room for photos such as these. They aren't roped off or anything--they are there to take photos with.

Somehow I'm thinking that with the thousands of school groups that pass through their doors, we aren't the first folks to touch the Lincolns. But G'ma Phyl dared to put her arm around the oldest son and some old bitty came over to scream at me about it.  So, I had to yell at G'ma Phyl not to touch the merchandise and we moved on giggling.


We went into the log cabin to see how Lincoln lived and G'ma Phyl got yelled at again--for taking photos.  Apparently we didn't see the symbol on the back wall for "no taking photos", so we got yelled at by another old bitty.  Sigh.

Then it was my turn. After clearing 3 or 4 checkpoints of more stern old bitties, I was reprimanded for not having my wristband around my wrist---by who I refer to as "The Torso".

I'm not sure what the employment qualifications were for this particular woman, but being that she had no arms or legs to speak of, I think the only thing she was hired to do was to yell at people. Really. And while I may seem really insensitive, please know that she didn't hold back from hassling me for not wearing a damn wristband the right way.

I have this weirdness that prevents me from wearing those paper/fabric wristbands that amusement and water parks all like us to wear.  Being that I can't easily get those off, I sort of freak out and feel all claustrophobic.  I know it is weird, but I've had many an employee tell me that I am not alone in this weirdness and they allow me to put it on my swimsuit or belt loop to keep my from freaking out. But not this dame.

And of all people who you would think that would understand handicaps, this woman should have just shut her yapper when I showed it to her looped onto my bracelet.  But no, lady-with-no-arms-and-no-legs-and-just-two-fingers-sticking-out-of-her-side proceeds to drill me a new one.  Seriously. And while I'm typically very sensitive with those who have handicaps, I was gonna say something to this babe. I explained my issue slowly, but girlfriend/torso wouldn't have it.  She just kept blathering on about the fact that it was not around my wrist.  Sigh.

It was a very long visit with the Lincolns and we finally bailed early.  Seriously, the volunteers at that place were so hard-core that we couldn't even enjoy ourselves. 

I guess Mary Todd got the last laugh--I swear she was smirking.

In Search of Zen

We are either gonna have us some fun or we are gonna kill each other, but G'ma Phyl and I are taking a road trip to visit Colin.  Yep, like the old college days, we are packing up the car and hitting the road! We'll be carefree and chillin' for a couple of days, so if you notice I'm gone--that's my excuse.

And to all you robbers out there--don't even bother going to my house--we are leaving Joe and Emma here to clean house and do laundry.  I'm no fool.

Oh, wait. Maybe I am.

Dr. Lin, Medicine Woman

When you are a mom, you become the fixer of things--broken toys, ripped clothes, torn papers, and that sort of stuff.  And just when you are all cocky 'cuz there ain't nuthin' you can't fix, your kids get a pet. And then that pet gets sick and those darn kids expect you to fix that too.  That's when the fun starts.

I'm good at fixing (not THAT kind of fixing!) sick cats and hamsters.  There isn't a boo-boo I can't heal with a little peroxide and love, for the most part.  And when that doesn't work, I'm good at plopping those bad boys in the car and dishing out mega bucks to have the vet fix whoever is sick.  I'm usually sent home with antibiotic because the vet apparently thinks I'm good at fixing things too.  Me and the vet--we make a good "fixing" team.

And it usually works too, 'cept for when I get the fun job of having to put said pet down.  But that is another story for another day. 

Then you get fish because, well, you think fish are gonna be easy to take care of--and they are not.  And if I have learned nothin' over my 47.5 years, it's that I cannot fix fish.  Once those suckers look sick, they go south FAST. I find consolation in the fact that the aquarium in the city can't fix fish either--every so often they have a beluga that dies and everyone is all sad, but me--I'm secretly rejoicing because I am not alone in the inability to fix fish.

The other day, I found one of my frogs out in the yard, acting funky.  If I can catch a frog in the water with my bare hands, there is definitely something wrong with it.  So, I caught it, brought it in, and stuck that sucker in a frog tank that I have "laying around" up in the attic. (Doesn't everyone have a frog tank laying around?)

I'm not sure what is wrong with the frog, but he is very slow, very thin, and not looking so hot.  He's either sick, dying, or still hibernating--I'm not sure which.  And I've learned that there isn't much in the way of bull frog doctoring on the internet--just in case you were wondering. So, I'm sort of winging it here, letting him warm his bones in the laundry room while I figure out if he is still alive every 3 minutes.

I woke up to find homeboy as stiff as a board yesterday.  And while Joe and I stood there debating whether or not he was dead--he suddenly closed his eyes and dove under water. "Not dead!" I yelled.  I think Joe agreed with my professional assessment. He's kinda like my nurse in these situations.

Other than giving him a warm tub of water, some crickets to eat, and some safe harbor, there isn't much more I can do for my frog friend.  Sure, I give him words of encouragement and prayers at dinner, but it's gonna be up to him whether or not he makes it. I sure hope he does, because I think this is my male bullfrog.  I would hate to lose that lovely guy.

Sigh. Nobody tells you this stuff when you sign up to be the mom.

I Love Hobbes Thursday - Dead Robin

I looked out to see a dead robin laying on the sidewalk.  Hmmmmm, it's not every day that you find a dead robin in your yard.

I inspected the window to see if he had flown into it.  Nope.  I looked to see if the hawk had hurt it. Nope.  Then I looked at Hobbes--who looked away.

"Hobbes, did you eat this birdie?" I asked him like he was gonna answer me.

He looked down and poked some mulch.  His indifference was suspect.

"Hobbes, did you see this birdie?" I re-word the question like a lawyer.

After being ignored each time I asked this question, I finally picked him up and showed him the bird.  He sniffed it quickly and walked away. That was too quick--I was thinking that I had me a guilty cat.

So, Em and I had some fond words for our bird friend, thanked him for singing to us each morning and we gave him the traditional garbage bag funeral.  Hobbes just ignored us both.

I'm thinking homeboy is guilty as sin, although he'll never tell. A cat never confesses.

Toasting the Underside

I looked out the family room window the other day and saw this:

No, Hobbes is not dead, he was sunning himself--you know, like all cats do....out in the yard, all by himself, belly up, not a care in the world.  The birds don't bother him.  Yip Yap, the Non-Stop Barking Dog doesn't faze him in the least.  Even the cold temps don't tempt him to go back inside.  Nope. Nothing beats warm sunshine according to him.

I went out with the orange guy for a bit and was happy to see the yard coming back to life.  Green seems to be popping up under the mulch, crocus are blooming, and the trees are starting to bud.  It's a good thing to see spring again, I've missed it so.  It's amazing what slumbers under 20 inches of snow, isn't it?

Joe fired up the pond over the weekend and I was excited to hear the waterfall again.  I'm not sure where all the frogs are, but only a few have popped up.  I'm beginning to wonder if our male scares the smaller frogs away or into hiding.  The pond is a continuous learning opportunity and one that never ceases to amaze and amuse me.

I have officially put away my winter coat--it's my personal rebellion to all things cold and snowy. Okay, so I'm freezing my hiney off in my spring coat--it  just puts me in the mood for spring.  I've joined forces with Hobbes and we are enjoying every minute of the warm sunshine.

I'm not ready to sun my belly just yet though.

Pretty In Pink

I wasn't going to post the dress, but heck, I think everyone in the western world has seen it already.  It's just too pretty not to share. Not that I'm partial or anything.....

So, while I'm all excited about pink cotton candy dresses and sparkly shoes, I am bummin' over the phone call yesterday that informed me that my Photoshop class was canceled. Criminy. Here I was, all scammin' the college to get registered under my maiden name and the darn class gets canceled!  Maybe they knew something was wrong with that class list. Hmmmmm....

Some people just ruin all my fun. :(

Prom Dress Deliverance

It started out as a quiet weekend, but ended in madness.  Well, the good kind of madness, so we are happily exhausted.

Saturday night brought Em a prom invitation of the best kind--a happy surprise by a certain senior guy that she likes.  And while that is all sweet and all, homeboy didn't leave us much shopping time, so yesterday we ran to the prom dress mecca, "Peaches"--home to all things prom.  And now the home of all of my money. Sigh.

While Joe settled on the couch to watch "Deliverance" with Burt Reynolds, Em and I heard "Dueling Banjos" as we shut the door. I should have taken it as a warning. 

Peaches was insane. Packed with 200 women perusing all things sparkly, it was madness--controlled madness, but it was madness just the same.  Loud dance music, bright colored dresses, sparkly jewelry, tulle, and satin everywhere--my head was spinning.

We were corralled like sheep, guided this way and that through the maze of Peaches, mesmerized into wondrous oblivion of all things girlie.  You are in for the ride when you step in the door and there is no turning back.  They've got you with their incredible dresses and then they sway you with rhinestone shoes and jewelry--it's all too lovely to resist.

After we found our dress and accessories, we sat there stunned.  We were exhausted, over-stimulated, and my pocketbook was taken advantage of.  Not that I didn't hand it over willingly, I just couldn't believe what I just dished out for my daughter.

Recession?  Not at Peaches.

It's the Weekend--Shake IT, Baby!

So, while I'm a computer dork, my pally, Chuck isn't. And while I can't get my girlie from yesterday to dance, Chuck can.  And he did!

Lin dances the night away

I love Chuck.

Friday...YEAH!

Okay, so I'm easily entertained. While this is hilarious as a photo, you had to see it in motion. Not kidding--girlfriend is shaking it while the band plays on. For some reason, either the PhotoFunia website is lame or I am. I'm thinking it's me because I couldn't get the video to transfer.

Bummer. Because it was really, really funny. Now you will just have to take my word for it--or go there and make one of yourself. It's hilarious. Really.

Hey, it's Friday!! Whooohoooo! Get your dancin' shoes on and uh.....go dancin'! Or just hang out on your couch and enjoy March Madness. Or take a nap. Whatever. Go make the best of your weekend, pallies!