My Cat Thinks she's Rip Van Winkle

I love forget-me-nots.  Those sweet tiny flowers greeting me each day on the side of the house and by the pond just make me smile. It's the little things, you know?

I was laying on my bed reading my Kindle yesterday and Grace came up to lay on me like she usually does.  I was petting her and trying to read when I kept seeing a long hair out of the corner of my eye.  That isn't an odd thing around here because Emma has long hair and it gets everywhere--in the tub, clogs the drains, on our clothes, stuck to towels and rugs. It's just annoyingly everywhere. Ugh.

So, I keep swatting that darn hair out of my vision and poor Grace kept dodging my hand. I think she thought I was gonna smack her.  That was one insistent hair, I tell you, it kept coming back, right into my line of vision as I read. And it was super annoying.

I finally stopped reading to catch that darn thing once and for all.   That's when I realized that it was Grace's whisker that was in the way--one freakingly long whisker. Like she's been growing it for years, aka Rip Van Winkle.  (Well, she does sleep a lot these days.)

So, I say to Grace, "Grace. Dude. What's with the whisker? Why do you have such a weirdo whisker? And why do you have to stick it way out there in the universe so I can't read my book?!"

She just purrs and closes her eyes like she doesn't care. And that makes me laugh.

Grace weighs like 14 ounces these days--can't get a pound to stick on her for the life of me, but she can grow a whisker like no other. What is with that?  Maybe all that food is going straight to the whisker. Great. Now I've got a 14 ounce cat with a 10 pound whisker.  Criminy.

Music to Wash Walls by

LOVE this song! And the video is adorable.



I'm just hoping that it gives Joe the boost he needs to finish those walls today.

Happy Weekend, pallies!

"Entertainment", Back in the Day

I ran into a dad from old baseball days yesterday.  I don't know him well, but his kid was on our kid's team a couple of seasons, so I know him and his wife from across the stands. 

So, we did all the pleasantries and I asked about his kids and he asked about mine.  And then we both sighed and agreed that it all goes just too darn fast.

I asked him what he does now that the kids aren't home anymore.  He knew what I meant--not what is your job or your hobby, but what do you do now that you don't go to everything your kid is in?  What ever do you do with spare time? And more importantly, how do you adjust?

He admitted to being lost for a few years, and feeling sad when hearing the loudspeakers at the football field or the cheers from the Little League games a few blocks away.  Such happy sounds....with such feelings of sadness mixed in.  It's like you just don't belong to that club anymore and it makes you melancholy and wish for yesterday.

"Do you miss it?" I ask.  And he replies "Not anymore. It's amazing how quickly you can enjoy doing what YOU want to do for a change."   I can't even imagine.  And he finishes his thought with a laugh and a smile, adding "I can eat dinner when I'm hungry--not when we have to eat before we have to be somewhere else!"   I laugh with him. I know the scenario all too well, cramming food down because we have to GO.

It's funny, this new club I'm beginning to be associated with--the "My Kids are All Grown" Club.  It's a fun club, but there is always this hint of yesterday mixed in.  Oh, we have a good time alright, but it always begins with "So, what are your kids up to these days?" 

As we parted, Jim said "Yeah, those were great days. But I'm not going back. I'm not sittin' out in the cold and rain for the grandkids." 

Oh, I'll bet I do.

And I'm guessing he's a big talker and he'll be in the stands behind me.

"Quality" time

The company I work for is big on bringing in interns each summer. We are also big on hiring employees from every walk of life, every culture under the sun--which is interesting and fun for the most part. You never know who's gonna be sitting across from you from one day to the next--or where they are from. Makes things interesting and there is never a lack of conversation.

It's still tentative, but there is quite possibly a new IT intern coming this summer--but he's the boring type--he's from my house. Yep, Colin applied for the internship and I think they are going to let him work there for the summer. It's unpaid, but hey, it beats sleeping until noon each day, right? He doesn't have a job lined up at home yet, so interning is the next best option for college kids. And to get an internship in your field? Perfect.

I'm a wee bit leery about having my kid at the same company I work for--you know, all that "reflection on me" and all that stuff. It's scary, you know? I mean, is he going to be a good worker? Will they like his work? Will they hate him and not say anything because I'm in the building next door in the corporate office? Will they think he should shave (like I do) or tell him his mom is a nut?  Oh, I have a thousand worries.

Fortunately, we won't be in the same building and he won't have to see my smiling face all day long or anything--something I'm sure he was worried about. But, we do have that 30 minute commute each morning together. That's a LOT of time for us to chat.

Or not.

It's going to be a very interesting summer indeed. 

Like. The. Corners. Of. My. Mind.

I sat down at the computer last night to catch up on blog reading and to write a fabulously entertaining post for today, but then I sat on the couch for a minute...and turned on the TV. Mis. Take.

I love when I spot one of my favorite all-time movies in the mere first two seconds that it starts on TV. I get all happy and then I yell to whoever is home that my favorite movie is on and I get really, really excited. And then the night is lost to me getting all goofy over my favorite movie. The family just counts themselves lucky if it's not a musical...for obvious reasons.

So, that is my excuse for posting this. If I could play the piano, this would be a perfect imitation of me. Seriously. I cry every single time I watch "The Way We Were". Really. Real tears and all.



It's those three words that get me.....

"See ya, Hubbell"

*sniff*

(I'm not even gonna mention that "Funny Girl" followed immediately. I was happier than a pig in poop.)

Huh?

What is it about doctors and medicine these days? Do they all think we want a pill, tests or surgery to cure our ails? Or is that the only way they make any money anymore?  I'm thinking it's the latter.

Back in November, I went to my general practitioner to get clearance for my toe-straightening surgery.  After asking me what meds I was on, she decided that I shouldn't be on omeprazole (acid blocker) anymore and insisted that I take all sorts of tests to see if I can get off the meds.

Those tests led to more tests....and another doctor, who..........

led to more tests and yet another doctor--a surgeon at that.

After taking a few tests (and refusing a whole lot more), I've sort of come to the conclusion that the more doctors I see, the sicker I am--just ask them.

With absolutely no symptoms, pain or indications, this guy decided he wanted to take my gallbladder out. I guess those two 1 or 2 mm size gallstones are causing me all sorts of problems that I didn't know I had.  He even told me that I passed one already.  Funny how he knew that and I didn't.  I would think that I would notice something like that.

I'm taking the slow road with things, much to their chagrin.  I refuse tests for the sake of taking tests. I ask a lot of questions--which they don't like. I question their thinking and that really makes them mad--but it is my body parts that they want to remove. I'm weird like that.

I must have really irked this guy because he said to me "YOU came to us with your GERD problems! It's not like we came to YOU!". 

Uh, yeah, you did.  I just came in for clearance for toe surgery and now you want to take out my gallbladder. 

Is it me or is this madness?

Pterodactyl!

No, he's not real--but I had you fooled for a second there, didn't I?   That's okay, I had it out in the yard yesterday and Joe fell for it too--and this thing has been sitting in the family room for over a week now.  Sheesh. He's too easy, that Joe.

Anywho....

In order to avoid the Pterodactyl visits of last summer, we bought a decoy to foil the live ones from coming over to eat our fish and frogs.  Apparently blue heron are loners, so the sight of one sitting at a pond is enough of a deterrent to those flying by to keep moving.  BUT....you have to put this guy out after May (heron mating season) so you don't accidentally attract more herons to your yard.  AND you have to keep moving him so they don't get used to your fake giant birdie.

That's totally gonna be a job for Joe:  Pterodactyl staging and placement. 

He's gonna love that. 

But that job isn't going to be half as difficult as mine:  convincing the cats that he isn't real and that they can go outside without getting eaten by a giant bird. 

Follow your Frog

It's the weekend........ 

Grab a lily pad and chill.

  (Well, except for Joe--he's washing walls again)

Start firing your staplers, people

Next year is our 25th wedding anniversary.  And like all major things around here, I have to start lighting Joe's fire a wee bit early to get him used to the idea of doing something grand--or at least doing something.  If I left it up to him, we'd be celebrating at home on that day--he on one computer, me on the other. 

Yeah/no. It ain't goin' down like that--not after living with him all those years. Sheesh.

So, there has been plenty of discussion on where we are going--because we ARE going somewhere.  Just the two of us. Alone. No kids. For a couple of days.  Something we have never done in 23 years--we have never taken a vacation without the kids. Ever.  I think it is high time we do--although Emma has other thoughts on this plan.

You have to love the discussion--me suggesting Martha's Vineyard, New York City, or perhaps the west coast.  Em's pushing Hawaii (like she's going with) and Joe is naming off ridiculous things like Denver, Sarasota or Ft. Lauderdale.  Thank god Colin isn't home because I'm sure he'd add to this and make me want to kill them all in one fell swoop.

We went out for dinner last night and the discussion began again.  Joe was adamant that Sarasota would be lovely.  He took one look at my face and began justifying his case.  After a long silence, I finally told him that a good judge of his anniversary spot would be for him to stand up and announce his selection in front of his entire office. You know, make a big announcement where he is taking his bride for their 25th wedding anniversary. And when they start pummeling him with paper clips and wadded up pieces of paper, he'll know.  He'll get the message how lame his choices are. 

And the whole time we were having this debate over tacos, the waitress kept coming back and forth with extra napkins, drink refills, and inquiries about our dinner.  I think she was waiting to see who was gonna win this battle--but Joe was convinced she loved the whole Florida idea and was on his side. Yeah, I think not.  No gal is gonna do that to another gal for their anniversary. And she certainly isn't going to give him the "high sign" by passing him the bill for dinner.  It doesn't work like that.  Girlfriend was thinking he's an idiot--I'm sure of it.  She was waiting to see when I was gonna step in and kill him. 

There was no more discussion after dinner--Joe knows better.  But I can tell you, he's fired up in his quiet Joe way and he's gonna mention it to his co-workers today.  What do you bet?

 Start wadding now, people at Joe's work.

Hold on..........

Shhhhhh. 

I have the day off work and am sleeping in. 

Check back later for a post.

I Love Hobbes Thursday - Skinnier Days

Our pally, Diana, sent me this drawing her daughter did of Hobbes. 

Isn't it cute? I like his long neck--I think that is what he looks like when he's eyeing birdies up in the trees.

The Reaper Ain't Knockin' Today

Just when I think Grace is on her last days.....

That cat never ceases to amaze me.  She's old, thin, sleeps a ton and was on a peeing streak that lasted far too long.  But that's all over and she's doing great--even though she looks like hell every now and then. But, then again, who doesn't, right?

I took her to the vet the other day as she was long due for her annual visit.  And like usual, girlfriend was not happy about the carrier, the car, the drive, nor the vet's office.  She sang full tilt the entire time--until some rude sniffy dog came up to her carrier as we waited in the chairs. That hushed her up pretty darn fast--even though I gave his owner the "evil glare of death."

'Ole Grace checked out okay, but she lost another half a pound, which is never good for her. We ran expensive blood tests and it seems her kidneys are holding their own--staying stable which was a nice surprise.  The doctor sent us home with more special food that has absolutely no flavor (or so Grace says) and some tasty medicine that makes certain kitties who are constipated go poopy within hours.  Yeah, he's got some departing gifts, doesn't he?

After all that expensive fun, Grace and I headed home--me to do laundry and house cleaning and other assorted fun things, while Grace went to find her cushion behind the bed to recuperate from the experience.
She licked her fur into a spiffy old cat-do and snuggled in for the long haul--sleeping until the next meal was ready.

We're fun like that.

The True Story of the Duck and Wheel

Now that "Hoarders" is on hiatus or out filming more hoarding folks, I'm left to whatever else is on Monday nights.  And while that sounds sorta boring, it isn't--especially now that I've found old re-runs of "Little House on the Prairie" to watch.  Dang, if I don't love that innocent hour of good, clean, family entertainment and that darn Half-Pint and her "Pa".  If you are looking for me on Mondays.....that's where you are gonna find me--hatin' on mean 'ol Nellie Olsen.

Sad, isn't it? That's my life. But it's a good life, I guess.

Anywho, BumbleVee was asking the other day how the Duck and Wheel got it's name, so you can click here and find out.  Be prepared--it's a wacky story. But why wouldn't it be, right? 

This past winter, Duck sorta went missing for awhile, Wheel went up against a tree somewhere in the yard, and String.....well, I'm assuming it's halfway to Montana to visit Pricilla and my goat friends by now.  But Spring came, and apparently so did the landscapers, so Duck is back out in the front yard with a couple of his gal friends.  I'm thinking that maybe Duck went to Florida for the winter....or Mexico--someplace warm, I'm sure.

Either way, Duck and Wheel with String is still an ever-changing phenomenon at the end of our street.  It's sort of like me, I guess--always changing, always making folks wonder what the hell I'm supposed to be.  I still look for him and laugh at Duck at whatever surrounding he's in at the moment. He keeps me looking and most of all......... laughing. 

One of these days, I'm gonna get ballsy and take his photo. 

Make way for ducklings

The faux turtle from last summer sort of fell apart at the end of the season, so this summer the pond is featuring...........

ducklings!

No, they aren't real--I wouldn't want all that poop in the pond....and imagine the horror if a frog ate a duckling..... EEK!  

They are sorta cute, aren't they?  

And already, the great ideas are floating in as a friend suggests putting numbers on the bottom of them.  She thinks its a great idea to try to catch a ducking and then you have to do shots according to the number on the bottom.  Yeah/no.  Somehow, I'm thinking I'd be spending my summer dragging friends out of the pond.  

I'm just hoping these little guys don't attract adoptive parents.

 

I'm only as good as my blog

I was home Friday, cleaning house, when the text came...

"Mom. I need your help."

There is no speed on this good green Earth than that of a mother answering the call for help from her young.  And of course, he no sooner hit the 'send' button that I was texting back "I'm home. Call me!"

Of course, there is no phone call, only another text back, "No, not that kind of help. I just need you to post something on your blog for me."

Sheesh. Are you kidding me?!  Here I am with images of him sitting in a jail cell or hospital room and homeboy just wants to use my blog as his platform.  Ugh. I hate kids sometimes, you know?

So, here is the uber-important thing that prompted Colin to text his mother more than once this week.  It's a an "app" contest and (from what I can decipher from his texts--NOT a phone call) he is asking that we help him win by "liking" his app.  He's in third place for whatever the heck this is and he needs our help. 

Please visit and click "Like" for him (and me):

 http://goo.gl/vdkaw

And hopefully, if he wins, he'll actually call me to thank me. But I'm not holding my breath.

Thanks, pallies.

Fun with Tape

Every Spring, the band hosts a craft show in the school gym as a fundraiser.  While it basically runs itself after all these years, there is one preparation that stumps us--year after year.  Well....it doesn't stump everyone....just a few of us.

Marking the floor.

Yep, it's hell--on the brain AND the back.

We have to split the gym into 3 sections to measure and mark off  with painter's tape the 10 x 8 "booths" for the crafters to set up.  While it sounds easy enough, it is not.

Here's why:

The gym is bigger in the middle section and the two sides are smaller.  We have a map for how it is to be set up, but nobody ever marks on that map how wide the aisles are on the individual sections--and that is where the big math comes in.

After 6 years of hell (and a lot of laughing), we finally mastered the floor last night.  Oh, there have been years that we have measured and marked nearly the entire section, only to find that we were short on one end.  There is no pain like that of having to go back and move 6000 pieces of blue painter's tape.  My back and legs hurt just thinking about it.

Finally, FINALLY, some wise acre thought of basing our measurements off the center line for the basketball court. WAHLAH!  A few simple measurements in this direction and then that one--and we were done in record time.  Enough time to sit back and watch the other groups struggling with their sections of the gym.  And giggle. Quietly.

The hardest part of all of this is dodging the gal in charge.  Man, if she caught us slacking, she'd be directing that pointy finger over to where somebody needed help--and we weren't about that.  So, we hung out talking to the band director, acting like we were on official business--all the while fake-working. Sometimes it takes me a bit longer to learn how to do it properly.

As a side note, all of this tape has to be picked off the floor at the end of the craft show too.  I want to cry at the mere thought of it.

Settin' and thinkin' a bit

"Sometimes I sits and thinks,

and sometimes I just sits."

That little pearl of wisdom was on one of those "motivational" posters that they put up in high school classrooms to.....I dunno....make you think (?).  It made me think alright---just how stupid that is.  But it made me and my friend Angela laugh all those years ago and it still makes me laugh today. Isn't that weird that I remember that from high school?  Must make all those teachers proud. Criminy.

Anywho.....

Today is my 4th year anniversary of when I started blogging.  It began as an exercise in my creative writing class and I was hooked.   And after 1300+ posts and I think that I have no more--silly things, stupid things, funny things still happen in my house and in my life.......and I have more stories to tell.  I never thought I'd have 4 years of crap to write about.

Who would have thought that wearing a pair of waders in the pond could be so much fun?  Or sprinkling coyote pee around the yard could cost so darn much?  Who knew that frogs could possibly be interesting or you'd be reading about the comings and goings of snails?  Heck, the Duck and Wheel has brought some weird into the lives of a few folks.....and they don't even seem to mind! Go figure.

So, today, as I sits and thinks, I'd like to thank all of you who stick by the Duck and Wheel with String and the cast of characters who make it what it is (or isn't) everyday.  We wouldn't have as much fun if you weren't here to add to the silliness.   Thanks for being the pallies and making these past 4 years fly by, dear friends. 

Now, let's go find some more fun.........

Tastes like chicken

I don't mind the frogs eating birds all that much, but it's when they catch one and don't finish it off that I have a problem.  

I looked out on the pond today to find a floater--a birdie who was meant for dinner, but didn't quite go down as planned.  Nuthin' like fishing out floating birdies to make your day.  I saved it for Joe--I know how much he loves doing icky stuff. I'm nice like that sometimes.

I haven't quite figured out the frog situation yet--mostly I only see two frogs, but last night I saw four.  This may not sound like a big deal to most folks, but frog count is big around this house. It's like a nightly announcement how many frogs we have at any given moment.  I'm still curious as to what happened a few weeks ago with "the killing"--the mysterious death of one of the frogs. 

A few years ago, I had two female frogs that were beastly. They were swell friends, but they chased off every other frog until it was just the two of them.  Then, when spring came, the two hopped off in search of boys....food...or death...whichever came first.  

I'm still trying to determine if that is what I have going again--two tough gals dominating the pond.  It's hard to sex frogs--IF they stay above water long enough to get a good look at them, it is still very difficult to see if that eardrum is large or small.  For some reason, the frogs don't like me staring at them.  Sheesh.

Year after year, I wait for grandbabies.  In all my years of having the pond, we have never been blessed with eggs....or tadpoles.  The fish go nuts--we've had generations of fish, but never frogs. I wonder what is with that?  I always think this may be the year. 

The pond never ceases to amaze me.

You'd think we'd learn

"Dang, Oz. If it ain't me, it's you.  If it's not you, then it's me."

"Lin, I no speak English so well...."

"Yeah, well you did just fine before, Oz."

"Shhhhhh....."

"Well, at least you have an excuse--albeit a lame one.....that nobody is buying.  Me--I've got nuthin' other than I'm a picklehead."


I'm still laying low. Ozzie--not so much. 

Not in my backyard

It's that time again.....dandelion season.  If Weirdville had a village flower, I'm convinced this would be it. 

And while I get that some people view weed and feed as "expensive" or "poisonous" or whatever else excuse they have for not using it, I would personally like to kick every single one of them in the shins.  I don't like dandelions, even if I made a quilt in their honor.

 Don't ask me why I'm digging this out of my quilt collection and putting it up in the house, while outside, I'm yanking these pests out by their scrawny legs. 

It's the complication of being me.

My Lithuanian Brother

One of the wonderful jobs that I get around this place is being the lucky one who gets to sit around all day when you've got something to be delivered, repaired or inspected.  Yeah, it's me who sits and waits the entire 8 hour window for the dude to show up. And it never fails--they are always late.....or they show up 15 minutes before the end of the day.  It's great being me sometimes.

Friday was one of those days, but I got smart--I set up TWO appointments so that I could make full use of my downtime.  Heck, if I'm not getting paid, I might as well clean house and play Words With Friends while I play the waiting game. 

And a game it is.

Not two hours into my window for the washing machine repair guy, I get a phone call from the dispatcher telling me he is going to be 2 hours late.  Really?! At 10 a.m. we know this already?  Criminy.  We weren't starting off very well.

Surprisingly, the gas company came relatively early in the day, which was nice. He had to do a swift check of the meter and the connections into the house and off he went.  Well......he was going to......and then we starting chatting.  It was a lovely visit with the Nicor guy--we shared Weirdville (he lives here too) and pond stories.  That killed a half hour in my 8 hour day of waiting.

Mid-afternoon, appliance repair guy shows up and I was all miffy.  I do not appreciate waiting outside "the window" and I was a wee bit crabby upon seeing him arrive.  I know it isn't his fault, but, dang, do they think people have nothing to do all day but wait for them to show up?  There should be a rule against this sort of stuff. Or I should be able to reclaim all this lost time on my death bed.

Anywho, an older gentleman with a thick accent comes bustin' in the door--full of "I'm sorry's" and please-don't-kill-mes.  So I didn't.  I took one look at his computer screen that he used to log in the time he arrived and I realized that those fools at the home office just double book the poor technician. Why do they do that? I mean, I was so crabby by the idea that he was 2 hours late, it just put him in a bad spot to begin with.  Then I was nice to him--I felt his pain.

So, we chatted a bit (notice a theme here?) and he looks at me and says "Where are you from?"

I thought it odd, but I told him that I was "Polish and Lithuanian." 

His face lit up and the next thing I know, he's asking me in Lithuanian if I speak the language.  I don't, but I just knew from his face that was what he was asking. 

"Labas," I say my only legit Lithuanian word I know, "that's it." 

But he's pleased as punch with that and gives me a giant bear hug and a kiss on the cheek like we are long lost relatives.  Oh, that guy was so darn excited--you would have thought I was the queen of Lithuania. If there was one.

So, now my best Lithuanian friend in the whole entire world replaces not one, but TWO locks on the dryer, hands me an extra lock AND gives me the part number and tells me how to replace them in the future.  He jerry-rigs the washer where the water was splashing over the sides (due to poor design) and stops the darn thing from dripping. And the whole entire time that he's doing all this, he's telling me all about how he came to America and how his daughter stayed home, but now she's here and has a great job and he's got a granddaughter and his wife watches her and.....and.....

Oh, man, it was hilarious. 

So, I've got me a fixed washer and dryer AND a Lithuanian connection for future repairs. 

I tell Joe all of this and he just shakes his head.  "And that is why I have YOU stay home," he says. 

He's lucky we have a small house

Me:  "Joe. We have to start washing walls and Spring cleaning this weekend."

Joe:  "Does that mean 'wall washing and stuff'?"

Me:  "Yep."

Joe:  "Why do we do that? I mean, I never heard of anyone wall washing like you always do."

Me: "Well, you like the house clean and that makes it nice and clean. And besides, I like the smell of Soilax."

Joe:  "They don't even make that stuff anymore."

Me:  "Yeah, well, you can get the generic.  Too bad. We're doing it. This weekend."

Joe: (silence)

Me:  "I don't think we need to do the ceiling in our room though--it looks pretty clean."

Joe:  (thinking)  "Can't we just do a dry wipe?"

Me:  "What the hell is a 'dry wipe'?"

Joe:  "You know, you just wipe the walls with a dry rag."

Me:  "And what the hell does that do?"

Joe:  "I dunno. It just seems like a whole lot less work."

Me:  "Yeah. No." 

This conversation is repeated every. Single. Spring. 

And  no, we never "dry wipe". Whatever the hell that is.

We don't get out much apparently

Joe is the only guy I know who can get completely thrown at the Panera Bread because the old dude in front of him has the same name.  Really.  I can't make this stuff up. 

After we waited in line behind an old guy who looked like the cartoon old guy in the movie "Up", Joe was in a sudden quandry because the old man's name just happened to be "Joe" too.  Which isn't a problem for the rest of the world, but that throws Joe when we go to places that ask your name for your order.  I don't know why.

"May I have your name, sir?" the gal asks Joe after he places our order.

"Uh. Well. Uh. I can't use my name, 'Joe', because that old guy's name is 'Joe' too and then everyone will be confused. Well....he will be, I mean." he ridiculously explains while the girl just looks at him like he is an idiot.

"Yeahhhhh, right, Joe.  It's you who is gonna be confused" I point out.

"No, it's not. Either way, now I'm gonna have to make up a name." 

"Seriously? You are gonna MAKE UP a name at Panera Bread? What? So nobody steals your sammich?" I'm cracking up.

"Yeah. Okay.....uh....I'll go with Tom. My name is 'Tom'" he says all proud-like.

"Oh, that's great," I laugh, " and when they call 'Tom', you're gonna be all like 'Hey! Where's my damn sammich and soup. I ordered it hours ago!"

"No, I'm not. That's ridiculous."

"You're ridiculous." I'm saying as Em is just wishing we could have eaten at home. And the girl at the counter is waiting on us to decide what name we are gonna go by to get our dinner.

Who started this name stuff anyway?  Why can't we just use the numbers like the old days?  It was so much easier to be a number, wasn't it?

Well, it was for Tom anyway. Criminy.

Is it Friday yet?

Is it me or is this week really, really long?

Closing Ceremonies for BarkFest 2012

The other day, I heard this conversation coming from the laundry room where Em and Joe were folding clothes:

Joe:  "Aw, crap! I've got spots all over the front of it! This shirt is a hot mess."

To which Em replied: "Are you sure it's the shirt?"

Yeah, I'm laughing--but not too hard. I'm a hot mess these days too. Criminy, I'm leaving comments for people on the wrong blogs for goodness sakes. Sigh.  I only have one excuse, and it's lame--I'm gonna blame the Weiner Dog. 

Sammy is leaving tonight and the only one who couldn't be happier is Sammy himself.  You'd think we beat the darn thing for how happy he is to be going home. What is with that??! I mean, we let him sleep in our bed with us. He gets a treat if he just looks outside. He drinks from the pond and chases the birdies.  Then when that fun is over, he goes over and barks at the two barky doofuses next door--AND I don't  even yell at him to stop.  It's rainbows and butterflies and unicorns for this dude when he's here--what else can a dog want???

Sheesh.

So, after tonight, the world will be back in order. Hobbes can sit on my chest and get his "lovin'" in the morning. Grace won't have to jump up on the counter to eat anymore. Joe won't have to worry about being "spooned" by the dog when he sleeps and I won't have to listen to the incessant whining to go home. Emma--well, she's oblivious to the whole dog thing anyway.  She'll just be Emma.

But I can't promise that I will make comments on the right blog or to the right people. You'll just have to laugh amongst yourselves and go searching on other people's blogs for your comments. And roll your eyes and wonder what is up with Lin.

I'm still a hot mess. A dog-less one at that.

Rambling's from my wee little brain

Poor Hobbes. He's totally traumatized by the presence of Sammy in the house, so he spends a much time as possible out in the yard. But that leaves him exhausted, so he ends up sleeping in the mulch. Behind the tree. So the dog doesn't see him.  Yeah, I know--it's ridiculous.

Pardon me for the brain dump, but I've got a few wee tales to share--none of which is enough material for an entire post:

• I've got a swimming bud at the pool now--Mary is her name.  We both like to swim laps and we hate the walkers in the swimming lanes.  She is a little older than me and dang, if she isn't buff. I don't like that part of Mary--she makes me feel like a tubby. Or she inspires me. I can't decide which.

• The snail population in the pond was insane last year. I'm not sure what that was all about, but because the winter was so mild, we have a cabillion snails this year too.  I like the little ones--they are the size of a pencil eraser.  Trapdoor snails give live birth--isn't that cool?  While I like that, I'm really hoping they slow down on the snail love this year. They are coming close to that wacky dame on TV--you know--the 1000 Kids and Counting Even Though I'm Like a Hundred Years Old Show.

• I've spotted 3 frogs as of yesterday. I think they are hiding out until the tough guy frog is done beating everyone up. I need to find the little guy--then I can feel better.  I worry about the frogs, you know.

• I'm eyeing an artificial heron for the pond this year.  They say they are solitary creatures and the statue will keep away intruders--IF you move them around. Great. Now I will have a new pastime--moving the fake heron.  Well....it beats the coyote pee theory for the raccoons.

• I'm not a big one for putting out holiday decorations around the house. In fact, it all makes me pretty crabby. But I broke down and put out a new table runner and some bunnies around the house for Easter this past weekend. Not an hour later, Joe proceeded to drip butter and dump the chick pepper-shaker on the new runner--staining it forever.  Sigh.  Ask me again why I don't like to put this crap out.

And the best one:

• I forgot to pack underwear in my pool bag yesterday, which left me scrambling after my shower at the gym. Do I put on my wet suit and put my clothes on over it or do I go commando?  I'll leave you wonderin'....

It's a frog's life

The frogs never cease to amaze me and I find myself consumed with them this Spring.  While frogs are relatively common to most areas where folks live, there isn't a whole lot of useful information about them. This leaves me even more intrigued and on the quest to figure those darn guys out.

I found out two very important pieces of information this weekend: 

1.  How to tell if a bullfrog is male or female.  See that little circle just behind its eye?  That's their eardrum.  If it is the size of the eye, it is a female. If it is larger, it is a male.  So, this bullfrog is a female--which I already knew because it didn't croak...or "call". 

2.  Frogs are territorial--this I knew somewhat.  But what I didn't know is that they will kill other frogs over territory.  There are out and out battles with leaps and attacks--some leading to holding the opponent under the water and drowning.  Ah HAH! So, that is what I am figuring happened to the frog in my pond last weekend. I think the darned thing drowned.  Makes complete sense. When frogs die, you don't find them floating like I did. This was definitely a healthy frog--one that died quickly.

Along with the lead on how the frog died last weekend, I've also noticed that my frog numbers are down from four to one....maybe two.  I had the same thing happen a few years ago, I had one frog who bullied the others to leave the pond.  And now, I think we have ourselves a bully again.

So, what to do?  Do we introduce tadpoles just in case this bully leaves and then we have no frogs this summer?   Do we just let nature take its course and see what happens?  Sheesh, who knew frogs and ponds could be so darn exciting?

Or not.

It's sort of like the rest of the world though, you know?  Battles--wee and epic.  Love, jealousy, bullies, and friendships all play a part of everyday pond life.  There are days in the warm sun and far too many under snow and ice.  It's happy, it's sad. It is chock full of life, but it also has its fair share of death. 

All that in just over 1000 gallons.