Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells

It's that time of year again and we've come to realize our dog Dudley can't stand bells!  Every time a commercial comes on television with bells ringing in the background, he just about falls out of Daddy's lap.  We'll be driving down the road and a Christmas advertisement will come on the radio and he starts barking wildly.  I was taking some Christmas decorations out of a box the other night and came across a string of Christmas bells that hang on the door.  Poor old Duds came running from the other end of the house barking like the house was on fire.

Scarlett, the bloodhound that lives down the road, wears a bell around her neck.  Dudley can hear her coming from a mile away.  And when the neighbors hook up their horses to the wagon for their Sunday country rides, Dudley just about has a complete come-apart when they ride past our house with the bells jangling from their harnesses.  It's all we can do to keep him from busting through the screen door to chase after them.

Last night I had to swing by the grocery store for a few things.  Duds was in the front seat, sound asleep.  I drove by the front of the store in search of a parking space and we passed the Salvation Army bell ringer that was standing at the door greeting everyone.  Dudley shot straight up from a dead sleep barking so loudly that I nearly ran right into the buggy corral.  Good grief!  Scared me half to death.  I had to park the truck as far away from the front of the store as I could, just to get him to stop barking.

Just for meanness, I should tie a jingle bell to his collar and see what he does.  On second thought, I better not.  He'd probably go into convulsions chasing himself around the house!

Thankfully Tuckered Out

We've had a lot to be thankful for this month of Thanksgiving.  Mom and Sister got to come spend the holiday with us and Dudley was overjoyed.  This is the first time he got to meet his Grandma from Okie-homa and he loved her from the minute she walked in the door.  The feeling was mutual, of course, and Grandma lavished him with love the whole time she was here.  We had a wonderful meal, lots of giggling and relaxing time, sat outside by the fire, shopped like crazy and spent a leisurely Black Friday visiting out-of-the-way boutiques and taking a country drive down to the Amish market to load up on homemade goodies.  Hubby got some hunting time in and loaded our freezer with fresh venison.

Dudley's bedtime was later than usual as we all tried to stay up as late as possible each night, getting the most out of our visiting time.  He'd move from one lap to another trying to get comfortable so he could fall asleep.  The last night he barely hit the bed before he zonked out and was snoring away.  The week flew by and before you know it, we were saying our tearful goodbyes.  The visits never seem to last long enough.

The day after everyone left, the house seemed so empty.  Dudley walked from room to room looking for his ear scratchers and belly rubbers.  He looked so forlorn when he plopped down after his search turned up nothing.  No more Grandma and Auntie Tiff.  Heavy sigh.

Thank you Lord, for our family time.  Thank you for all the love and fellowship.  Thank you for providing for us and for blessing our lives.  Thank you for the peace in our hearts and for snoring bulldogs.

Motherhood: Not for the faint of heart!

I would have made the world's worst Mother!  Having this puppy, makes me realize this more and more every day.  I'm over-protective, worrisome, and project hypochondria on the little bugger at the slightest sign of a runny nose or if he even looks at me funny.

They say Mom's have eyes in the back of their heads and are all-knowing, but obviously that doesn't include me because Dudley swallowed a sock once without me even knowing until later that night when he threw it up, whole!  I didn't even know a dog would eat a sock, for heaven's sake!  I shouldn't be surprised though, as he eats anything and everything he can get his mouth on.  Bugs, rocks, leaves, twigs, dirt.  He thinks everything on the ground is food, I guess, whether it tastes good or not.  I was in horror the first time I caught him chasing and then eating a spider on the porch.  He even tried to eat a wasp once, even after it stung him.  Good grief!

If he's out in the back yard playing and gets within three feet of the fence I'm having a come-apart.  I'm scared he'll get in with the donkeys and they'll stomp him to death.  Hubby has strung wire all along the bottom boards of the fence to prevent him from squeezing underneath, but still I start hyperventilating anytime he even gets close.  Hubby tries to reassure me and get me to relax, but I just can't seem to do it.  "Just let him be a puppy!" he says, or "Stop stressing out!"  I'm trying, really I am, but if anything ever happened to that precious angel, and especially if my donkeys had something to do with it, I'd just die.

Today I had him with me at the office and he was just snoring away.  When he woke up, I took him downstairs for some fresh air, then fed him some lunch.  When I went to clean him up afterward, I noticed one of his eyes had no pupil.  One eye was perfectly fine with his normal sized pupil and the other had none at all!  Of course this scared the peewiddlywaddles out of me, so the first thing I did was look on the internet for an explanation.  Can you imagine me with a human baby, looking everything up on the internet and then believing everything I was reading?  We'd be bankrupt from all the emergency room visits in the middle of the night!  I was just getting ready to load him up and run him over to the vet when I looked down and his eyes were back to normal.  Whew!  Not sure what caused it, but it sure scared me there for a minute.  See what I mean about projecting hypochondria?  I instantly think the worse and that he's somehow contracted some rare and terrifying condition that can't be cured!

I just can't imagine what a bundle of nerves I would have been if I had ever had a real baby of my very own to care for.  Motherhood is such a big responsibility and I honestly don't think I was cut out for it.  I know they say the instincts just come to you naturally, but I'm not sure I believe it.  It sure makes me admire all the mother's I know, my own included.  Mothers deserve diamond encrusted, solid gold medals for all they endure.  One for every year they are mother's, and then some!

Katie Who? (Part Two)

(story continued from yesterday's posting. . .Happy Halloween!)

The next morning, the sun shining through the windshield woke Katie with a start.  The sight of the old house in daylight was ten times worse than it had been the night before.  Now she could clearly see how badly the house was in need of repair, and how overgrown the yard had become.  It would take a miracle for her to ever get this house fixed up enough for her and Boo to make it a home.  She let Boo out to sniff around and do his business, and she went back inside to survey the rest of the house.  She found a bathroom off the kitchen, a small bedroom with a single closet, a pantry and a set of stairs at the back of the house that she assumed led to the second story bedroom.  Assume was the best she could do though, as halfway up the staircase the stairs had sunken in on themselves and there was no way for her to climb them to view the upper level.

She wrenched open the back door of the house and looked out into an overgrown yard with a pathway that led to a little shed.  The shed had a pump and a rusty old sink and shelves lined with dust-covered jars.  Outside the door there were clotheslines hanging from two wooden posts, so she figured this must be what was used as a laundry room, minus the convenience of an electric washer and dryer, of course.  Beyond the shed were several small outbuildings and what looked to be a falling down old barn, and woods that seemed to go on forever.  She remembered the attorney had said the property had more than 20 acres of land and from what she could see now, it was mostly wooded.

Katie and Boo spent the day exploring what they could of the buildings and barn, finding them to be in much the same condition as the house had been.  They tripped over rocks and stumps and saw old farm implements buried in the weeds and overgrown with shrubs and brambles.  There was a pathway leading into the woods, so Katie decided to see how far it went in hopes of finding a clearing of some sort they might discover.  Together, they walked down the pathway, deeper into the woods, Boo running a short distance ahead sniffing and marking so he could find his way back.  Instead of the clearing she had hoped for, it seemed to get darker and darker the farther they walked.  The light through the trees was minimal and she could hear rustling in the bushes and saw birds overhead, flittering from branch to branch.  A twig snapped and Boo ran off in search of whatever critter had dared into their surroundings, leaving Katie on the path alone.  She walked on, knowing that Boo would eventually come back to her, hoping he wouldn't have a soft bunny hanging from his jaws.  The path started getting narrower and more overgrown until suddenly it didn't seem to be much of a path anymore, so she turned around to go back.  That was when she heard Boo's distressed bark far off in the distance, so she called him to her.  His barking got louder and more high pitched until suddenly it stopped with a terrifying yelp.  She called his name over and over but there was nothing but dead silence in return.  Katie ran off the path toward the spot where she'd last heard Boo barking.  Tree limbs whipped her in the face and sticker bushes clawed at her arms and legs.  The woods became thicker and thicker the farther off the path she ran.  She tripped over a fallen log and hit her head on a rock and was knocked unconscious.

Later, when she finally came to, Katie sat up and put her hand to her head.  It came away wet and sticky, so she knew she was bleeding, even though it was literally too dark to see the hand in front of her own face.  She remembered Boo's yelp and got herself to her feet and called his name.  All around her was darkness.  She could barely make out the trunks of the trees, and gingerly she walked on, calling his name.  An owl started hoo-ing above her in the trees and the sudden sound of it sent a chill up her spine and stopped her dead in her tracks.  It was a mournful hoo hoo-ing call that echoed through the woods.  Pretty soon another bird answered the owl with a long screeching kay-teeeee! kay-teeeee! and the owl would answer back, hoo! hoo!  The hair was standing up on the back of Katie's neck and she wished with all her soul that Boo would come bounding out of the darkness to be by her side, to lick her hand and guide her out of the woods.  She started to cry and run at the same time, desperate to find her way out of these dark and scary woods.  Her feet felt heavy and clumsy as she tripped over rocks and fallen branches.  In the back of her mind she thought to herself how no one would ever find her because no one even knew she was here.  Without Boo, she was all alone.

She stumbled again and fell to her knees in front of a mound of rocks.  She felt around with her hands and the rocks were smooth and covered with moss and seemed to form a curve.  In the darkness she heard a whimper and soft whine and knew it must be Boo.  The sound seemed to be coming from in front of her, where the rocks curved into the ground.  She inched her way closer to the rocks, crawling on her knees and then she felt the rocks give way and nothing but empty air in the darkness on the other side of them.  She knew it was a hole, probably an old well in the ground, long ago abandoned.  Boo whimpered again and she realized the sounds were coming from down below.  Boo had fallen into the well!  She leaned over and strained with all her might to see into the darkness for a glimpse of Boo, but it was so dark and all she could see was black nothingness.  She called his name and her voice echoed back up to her from the deep hole.

All of a sudden, Katie sensed a presence from behind her and before she could turn her head, she felt something shove her hard from behind.  She lurched forward into the darkness and tumbled down the well.  She landed hard on the rocks and dirt below.  She laid there a minute, trying to catch her breath as the fall had knocked the wind out of her.  She tried to raise herself up, but realized she had broken her arm.  The pain sliced through her like a knife.  With her other hand, she was able to prop herself into a sitting position.  She felt something soft under her legs and reached out to find Boo's lifeless body.  She pulled his head into her lap and cradled him with her good arm, tears streaming down her face.  She looked up into the darkness and glimpsed a sliver of the moon in the sky through the trees.  Far off in the distance she heard the eerie call, kay-teeeee hoo!  kay-teeeee hoo! and she knew it was the last anyone would ever hear of her again.

Katie Who? (Part One)

In the spirit of Halloween, another scary, silly and rambling story for you to get you in the mood.  Happy Haunting!

Moving to Owl Hollow was supposed to be a new start for Katie, recently widowed and finding herself alone for the first time in 15 years.  Her life had revolved around her late husband Sam, who was taken from this world too soon at the hands of a drunk driver.  Sam and Katie were high school sweethearts who had married just after graduation and although they had never been blessed with children, they lived life to the fullest and were completely and absolutely devoted to each other.  When Sam passed, Katie's world crashed down around her and she fell into a dark depression.  It wasn't until she received a letter from an attorney in Owl Hollow, Tennessee that she began to emerge from her grief.  The letter stated she had inherited a property from a late Uncle she hadn't even known existed.  She had no family or close friends.  Her own parents had died years before in a boating accident, and she hadn't known her mother even had a brother.  She'd never heard of Owl Hollow, and as far as she knew, she had never been to Tennessee.

Katie sold the home she and Sam had shared in the Pacific Northwest and loaded their black Labrador Boo into the Jeep and headed south.  Boo sat in the front seat, anxiously awaiting their adventure.  He was Katie's only comfort since Sam's death.  They had a long drive in front of them, so she patted his soft head for good luck and off they went.

Several days later, after lumpy beds in rundown motels, a night spent sleeping in the Jeep at a campground when they got lost, and horrible convenience store coffee and far from nutritious meals on the go, they finally pulled into the town of Owl Hollow, population 303.  It didn't look like much as she entered the town.  She passed a small gas station with two pumps, a hardware store that had seen better days, and a tiny cafe' with a sign boasting "The Finest Frog Legs and Catfish on Friday Nights!"  There was a bank, a small variety store, a market, a barber shop and a post office with a sign out front that said "Attorney Upstairs" with an arrow that pointed up a rickety set of steps along the side of the building.  There was a tavern at the edge of town and an old six-room motel that had long ago been boarded up with a sign that read "No Vacancy."  After passing this, the road kept going on but all you saw were mailboxes at the end of long driveways with no sign of the homes they belonged to.  There were thick woods all along both sides of the road and occasionally Katie and Boo would catch a glimpse of a light or two peeking through the trees, the only evidence that homes did truly exist along the way.

A few miles out of town, Katie finally saw the cemetery the attorney had said would mark the spot where she would turn to find the homestead she had inherited.  She turned left at the cemetery onto an old dirt road and followed it into the woods for what seemed like another five miles until finally there it was in front of her, a small two bedroom farmhouse with peeling paint and a deep porch that wrapped around one side of the house.  There were no lights to welcome them, so Katie pulled the Jeep right up to the front of the house and let the bright beams illuminate the walkway and porch steps.  Boo seemed to have lost his sense of adventure and cowered on the seat next to her with his ears down and an anxious look in his eyes.  Katie took one look at him and said, "The feeling's mutual, Boy!" and patted his head for reassurance.  She opened the Jeep door and jumped out and Boo reluctantly followed.

Katie hadn't thought to ask the attorney how long it had been since someone had actually lived in the home.  She just assumed it was habitable and that she could move right in.  One step up onto the sagging porch told her it had been quite some time since someone had actually spent time here.  She could see now that there were vines growing all up through the floor boards and wrapping themselves around the porch rails.  The front door of the house wasn't even closed all the way and as she pushed on it, it slowly creaked open on rusty hinges.  She shined her flashlight into the entry way and saw furniture covered in dust, moth-eaten curtains hanging from the windows and what looked to be nests here and there along the baseboards where critters had taken up residence over time.  As they stepped over the threshold, Katie and Boo were shaking like leaves on the trees and goosebumps formed up and down Katie's arms.  She walked through what appeared to be a small living room and into an old kitchen with curling linoleum floors and cupboards with doors hanging listlessly, their contents spilling onto chipped formica countertops cluttered with debris.  Katie turned the handle at the sink and was rewarded with a few rusty drips of water, but that was about it.  No electricity, no running water and obviously no solid roof over their heads as she looked up toward the ceiling to note that she could actually see the moon shining through a huge hole in the rafters overhead.

Katie decided there would be no more exploring for her and Boo until morning light, so she turned and walked back out the front door to the safety of the Jeep.  Another night would be spent cuddling together in the front seat, but they would make the most of it.  At least they had each other.  What had she gotten them into by moving them halfway across the country to this dilapidated old place?

(read on tomorrow as the story ends with Part Two. . .)

Prison is a Place - Book Review

I've often thought about what it must be like to be imprisoned.  Although I believe for the most part, criminals deserve to be punished, what a terrible thing it must be to be stripped of their freedom.  I know for one, I wouldn't be able to bear it.  Not to have privacy and comfort, or to be denied the ability to go wherever whenever you wanted.  I've always been a bit claustrophobic myself and can't imagine how that would be magnified to be constrained to a cell.  I won't even go on a cruise because I don't like the thought of not being able to get off the ship at any given moment.  Same thing with air travel and being trapped on a plane.  I can hardly stand it.

One of my co-workers, Brent Andrews, edited and published a book recently that was written by a late friend of his.  The friend had been in prison for a long period of his lifetime and had apparently always intended to have the book published, but it never was until Brent happened upon the boxes of manuscript, pages and letters.  Brent spent months putting it all together and the book has just officially come off the press.  After reading it this past weekend, I know the writer would have been proud.

The book is called Prison is a Place and it's by Harley M. Sorensen.  Harley had a difficult life from a very young age and he made some bad decisions along the way and ended up in prison.  He spent over eight years of his life behind bars, but to hear him write about it, it wasn't as bad a place as I always imagined it would be.  Of course this was back in the 60's and things were done differently then, and as he points out several times throughout the book, the prison he was in was one of those rare prisons that has a smaller than normal population with very few unpleasant incidents among inmates and good interaction with prison staff and authority figures.  He made the most of his time there and worked as much as he could, spending his time writing and playing chess, among other things.

One of the projects he worked on while in prison, and the subject content of his eventual book, was to reach out to a local teacher in hopes of corresponding with a class of students to get their ideas of what they thought prison really was.  He found a young teacher willing to embark on a letter exchange and it was fascinating to see what the students had to say and what Harley said in reply.

I especially liked the exchanges between Norman, a silly, smart-alecked boy and with Debbie, who I'm sure grew up to be valedictorian of her class and maybe even went on to be a prison administrator herself.  She was wise beyond her years and Harley seemed to enjoy them both.  Reading all the exchanges was enlightening in so many ways. 

As I read the book, I kept thinking to myself how this type of letter exchange would probably never be possible in today's society.  Parents would highly object to their children corresponding with a convicted felon and teachers would be forbidden to even consider such an assignment.

Brent, I'm so proud of you for getting this book out for everyone to read.  I know Harley would have been so proud.  It would be interesting to find some of these kids now that they are in their 40's and 50's, to see if they even remember Harley and his letters, and to see what each of them has become.  I wonder if he influenced them at all?  I hope he did!

Stormy Soul and Foul-Weather Moods

I don't know what in the world is wrong with me these days, but it seems like every last thing gets on my nerves and makes me grumpy.  You name it, it annoys me:

People who drive waaaaaay below the speed limit, who won't use their turn signals and who don't pay attention because they are on their darned cell phones.

People who talk on their cell phones inside public places.  Like we want to hear their mundane conversations while grocery shopping, or standing in line, or in a bathroom stall.  What did we used to do before we had stupid cell phones?  I know for one, there was a lot more peace and quiet in the world!

Cell phones.

Rudeness, inconsiderate people, people that talk too much, people that interrupt.  People that ask the same questions because they weren't paying attention the first time you told them.

Dogs barking (and barking and barking and barking)

Unruly children. 

Gum smacking and people that chew with their mouths open.

Voice Mail and Caller ID.

Talking to someone who has onion breath.

Hazelnuts and Brazil nuts.

People that drive too close.  Go around me if you're in that big a hurry!  Hopefully there will be a cop hiding around the next bend and you'll get a ticket.

Gossipers that run their mouths about everyone else because their own lives are lacking somehow.

People that yell.

Litter on the sides of the roads.

Loud commercials on tv.

Computer problems and the technicians who can't seem to fix them.

And that's just today!  Here's hoping tomorrow is an uneventful and less grumpy day.  I want to get back to my cheerful and happy self.

Attention to the Details

I'm always writing about all the beautiful things I see on the drive in to work.  Deer and turkey, bunnies, cows and horses.  Trees and flowers and all things nature.  It's amazing what you can see from the front seat of a car as you drive along.  We spend so much of our time in cars these days.  Some days we're like zombies just looking straight ahead, not quite awake, our minds so full we're just driving on auto-pilot until we arrive at our destinations.  Some days I'll pass a friend and neighbor and we'll exchange waves and smiles.  Other days, I'm sure I pass that same friend and neighbor and am so deep in my own thoughts that I don't even realize I just missed them drive by.

Sometimes it's not just nature that catches my attention.  This morning, for instance, I saw tiny children clamber up the steps of a big yellow school bus.  I thought about myself when I was that age, so excited to be going to school.  I remember how big those steps up into the bus were, and how I sometimes needed help up that first step.  I watched as a little boy, no bigger than a minute, stood at the top step excitedly waving at his sweet Mama who stood faithfully by the curb.  Some day he'll be older and it won't be "cool" to wave and blow a kiss to his Mom.

Parked at a light, I looked in my rear view mirror and there was a woman in the car behind me, on her cell phone.  She was crying so hard, tears streaming down her face.  She kept wiping her eyes and her face was red.  My heart immediately went out to her and I said a little prayer for her to have peace for whatever was upsetting her.  I had to wonder if she was arguing with a spouse, or had an ailing parent.  Could someone close to her have just died?  Whatever was causing her grief, I prayed for it to pass.

As I was in line at the drive-thru getting coffee, I looked across the parking lot and saw two of the sweetest little elderly women standing next to a car.  They both had pure white hair and looked to be in their 80's.  One had a lavender sweater on, the other a soft yellow.  They were facing each other and holding each other's hands out in front of them, visiting away.  One would reach over and pat the other's cheek adoringly, and then they'd embrace, still holding onto each other's arms as they kept on with their conversation.  One would nod her head in agreement to what the other was saying.  It was so sweet to watch and you wondered what they were talking about so intently.  It was so touching to see how much love and tenderness they were conveying to each other.  They were obviously close friends.  It made me want to jump out and give them both hugs.  It made me miss my Grandma's.

As I rounded the last corner to my office, I saw a man in a big truck driving toward me.  He was on his cell phone and looked to be furiously yelling into the phone.  He was so mad at whoever he was talking to that you could see the vein in the side of his neck bulging out as he pounded his fist on the steering wheel.  I cringed to see him so upset.  What a terrible way to end my drive to work, wondering about what could have made him so mad and worrying about the poor person on the receiving end of that call.  It made my stomach hurt to remember being yelled at myself in the past, and guilty to think back on times when I was mad enough to yell at a loved one myself.

Just one little drive to work and so many emotional observations.

Forgetfulness

While I still consider myself to be VERY young, and by no means old or over-the-hill, my brain just doesn't seem to function like it used to and my memory is getting worse and worse.  I'll find myself writing notes just to remember the simplest of things, and in conversations with Hubby, I tend to forget what I was going to say, even as I start to say it!  I'll think of something I need to do around the house and then walk into a room and think, "What did I come in here for again?"  I'll have to walk back out, sit down and think back to why I was on my way in there in the first place.

The other day I misplaced my cell phone.  I was at my office and I searched high and low, but couldn't find it anywhere.  I looked in and around my desk, on top of file cabinets, in my purse, even in the bathroom.  I went downstairs and searched my truck floorboards, behind the seats, and still no luck.  I thought, okay, I know I had it with me because I've been using the darn thing all morning!  Where could it be?

I used the phone from the office to call my cell number and I could hear it ringing faintly, but still couldn't find it.  I followed the ringing from one side of the office to the other, down and back up the stairs.  I could hear it, but couldn't quite track it down.  Guess where it was!  The back pocket of my jeans!  Oh for Heaven's sake.

I know I'm not alone in my lack of remembering though.  Just the other day, Hubby bought a part for the toilet at the hardware store, brought it home, set it somewhere and then got sidetracked.  Later when he went to fix the toilet and needed the part, he couldn't find it anywhere.  He searched the whole house, his Jeep, the front and back porches, the barn.  He even called me at work to see if I might have inadvertently picked it up and brought it with me.  No such luck.  I told him to trace his steps and relax, he'd eventually find it.

Frustrated, he was just about to go back to the hardware store when he opened the fridge door and there was the part, sitting on the shelf next to the milk.  Good grief!  Silly boy.  And I can't tell you how many times he calls me on the phone and then immediately forgets why he called me in the first place.  We just have too much on our minds, I guess, and I think as you get older, your brain shrinks and just can't fit all the information in there like it used to.

My Prampa is 97 years young and he can remember things like they happened yesterday!  He tells me story after story and remembers names, dates and places in vivid detail.  I don't know why I haven't taken after him in the memory department.  At the rate I'm going now, I'll be lucky if I remember my own name by the time I turn the big five-o!  Of course, that's many, many, many years away.  (wink wink)

Maybe I'll find me some magical vitamins that enhance brain function I can start taking.  It can't hurt, right?  I'll head over to Walgreens on my lunch break today and see what they offer.  Now, where did I put my car keys. . . . .

Our dog is a what?!

Last week, I took Dudley in for his fourth puppy shot.  From the minute we stepped in the door, it was "Oooohhhhh!" and "Aaaahhhhh!" and all the staff had to take turns holding him and giving him love.  The nurse took him to be weighed and found he had graduated to the Big Boy scales!  He weighed a whopping 21.7 pounds, a far cry from his first weigh-in at eight weeks.  No wonder I'm huffing and puffing carrying him up and down the stairs.  I won't be able to do that much longer. . .

In the exam room, I had the doctor check his ears because we've been having to clean them out a lot more than usual and I could tell they were bothering him because he'd shake his head and paw at them.  Sure enough, he had himself a little yeast infection in his ears and the doctor prescribed some medicine to clear it up.  She also informed me that more than likely, the infection means he's allergic to grain.  Oh no!

After some discussion, she encouraged me to wean him off the food we've been giving him and onto a grain-free product.  She also said we should refrain from feeding him meat, but instead give him a handful of blueberries, a spoonful of canned pumpkin or a few green beans.  What?!  I never heard of such a thing!  She assured me he'd get plenty of protein from the food and it would actually be better nutrition for him.

I was a little skeptical about the blueberry thing.  I never heard of a dog liking fruits and vegetables, but the vet left the room and came back with a handful of fresh blueberries and wouldn't you know Dudley just gobbled them up like there was no tomorrow!  Sheesh!

Our Tubby always ate steak and chuck roast on his food every day, and once a week we'd be cooking it for him and cutting it up into little chunks to sprinkle on his food.  We totally anticipated doing the same thing for Dudley when he got a little older, but now we're faced with the fact that OUR DOG IS A VEGETARIAN!  Oy vay!

When Hubby found out the diagnosis, his face dropped and his whole body just sagged toward the floor.  He looked utterly and totally defeated.  He couldn't believe his rough and tumble, burly bulldog was a sissy la-la health nut!  Not that all vegetarians are sissy la-la's or health nuts.  I know it's a lifestyle choice and I don't mean to offend, but it was a like a slap in the face to my life-long, journeyman butcher of a husband to have to accept the fact that his dog can't eat meat!  He was just shocked beyond belief.

The next few days, we slowly weaned him off the old food and onto the new, and we've been incorporating carrots and sweet potatoes and blueberries as occasional treats.  Dudley seems to be happy as ever and fat as a little butterball, so I guess it's going to be okay.  And his ears are clearing up too, so that's a good thing.

See Daddy, Dudley doesn't have to be a meat-eater to be manly!  Look at Popeye.  He was strong with big muscles and all I ever saw him eat was spinach!

Mrs. Meyer's Meltdown

I went a little overboard yesterday while shopping at Target.  Hubby, if you're reading this, click away and don't even ask me how much I spent.  I won't tell you the truth anyway.

This past weekend, I was reading through my latest issue of Country Living magazine and came across an ad for Mrs. Meyer's Clean Day products.  I had seen these in stores before, and my bosses' wife uses their dish soap.  I hadn't realized how many scents their products come in, and I didn't know they were created by a sweet white-haired Iowa homemaker and mother of nine!

I decided to try them out and loaded up my cart with everything Lemon Verbena!  Who knew there would be so many products to choose from?  Not only do they make dish soap, but they make glass cleaner, countertop sprays, all-purpose cleaners, hand soaps, laundry detergents, dryer sheets and candles.  The list goes on and on!  What I couldn't find on the shelf at Target, I found online at the Mrs. Meyer's website.  Oh boy!

Not only do the products smell divine, they don't have any harsh chemicals in them and are made with all-natural ingredients and essential oils.  I might even actually learn to enjoy housework if I get to smell Lemon Verbena while doing it!  Did you hear that Honey?  Me, enjoying housework!  That alone might be worth the money I spent!

Lucky Me

I've got to be the luckiest girl around!  Today I had lunch with my two most favorite, handsomest men!  Hubby called from the driveway at my office and said, "Come on down!  Let's go to lunch!"  I went downstairs and hopped in the jeep and there were my two sweet boys, Hubby and Dudley, with a big bag of smelling-good food.

We drove to an old abandoned school and picnicked on the lawn under a big shade tree.  As Hubby laid out the food, Dudley sniffed the containers, doing his best to get a quick nibble of this and that before we shooed him away.  No "people food" for Dudley.  When he figured out he wasn't going to get the better of us, he mosied off on his own to explore, watered the grass, played with fallen oak leaves and then ran back to our blanket, ears flopping away.  He's so cute.

What a wonderful surprise and welcomed break to my stressful day.  Thank you sweet Hubby, for being so thoughtful and for surrounding me with love.  I am so blessed.

Oink! Oink!

There's nothing quite like the yummy smell of bacon frying in the morning!  Some days when I'm on my way into work, I'll drive past the Country Boy Restaurant, or Halfway Market, and I can smell the bacon cooking even with my car windows rolled up.  It makes my tummy start to growl and the rest of the way into work, I'm wishing I had gotten up earlier so I could have eaten breakfast before I rushed out the door.

My office is in the upstairs portion of my elder boss' house, so most mornings I sit at my computer as more tantalizing aromas drift up the stairs from the kitchen down below, where my boss' wife is cooking breakfast.  It's pure torture, especially when I'm dieting, which is just about every other day of the year!  And it's not just breakfast smells, some days she's baking pies or cookies, or has a roast and potatoes in the crock pot and the torture lasts all day long.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but I think a nose could give the eyes a run for their money in that department!

Peter Piper Picked a Peck of. . .

You guessed it!  Pickled Peppers!  We have been loaded down with peppers this year.  Not only did Hubby plant a bunch in the back yard, as usual, but we have sweet friends and neighbors who have been sharing the bounty from their yards and gardens as well.  So many peppers we don't know what to do with them all.  Hubby has been making jars and jars of salsa from his hot peppers, and we've been freezing them for later batches too.  He eats salsa on just about everything but dessert!

When my sweet friend Susan brought me a whole box of banana peppers, I didn't know what in the world to do with them all.  She kept telling me some were sweet and some were hot, but I didn't know which was which.  I got a recipe for pickling them, and stood at the kitchen sink washing and slicing them for about two hours!  When I got done, my hands were on fire!  I never thought banana peppers could be that hot, but they sure were!  Next time I'll have to wear gloves.

Surprisingly, the recipe for pickling them was very easy.  You just take 2 cups of white vinegar, 2/3 cup of sugar, 1/2 teaspoon of mustard seeds and 1/2 teaspoon of celery seeds and put it all on the stove in a pot to boil.  You fill your sterilized jars with the pepper rings and fill the jars with the boiling vinegar mixture to within half an inch of the top of the jar, put the lids on tight and water bath them for about 15 minutes and Voila!  You're done!  I doubled the recipe and it made two pints, so altogether I made about six pint jars with a box of peppers.  After two weeks or so, they should be ready to enjoy.  We love them on hot dogs and sandwiches.  Yum!

Catfish Calamity

About 9:00 Sunday evening, Hubby and I decided to try and plan a fishing trip for the next day.  Nothing like last-minute planning!  We called our dear friend Pudd and asked him if he knew of any good fishing spots and he told us of a couple that weren't too far away.  We talked him into going with us, so off we went to Walmart in search of fishing licenses and some tack.  We got home and started getting everything together, loaded up the truck, made sandwiches and snacks to take along and finally fell into bed about midnight, dreaming of all the monster fish we were going to catch the next day.  Oh boy!

5:30 rolled around way too fast, and it was still dark outside when we got up and headed out the door to pick up Pudd.  Auntie Sue-Sue (Pudd's wife) agreed to babysit Dudley for us, so we dropped him off and headed out for Laurel Hill Lake, a 325 acre lake about fifty miles from our house.  We saw lots of deer and turkey as we drove along the Natchez Trace and it rained softly most of the way.

When we got to the lake, we were amazed at how big and beautiful it was.  It reminded us of a spot we fished in Oregon, minus the pine trees and smell of juniper in the air.  It was a gorgeous place.  We stopped at the bait shack and picked up chicken livers, minnows and worms and headed off to find the perfect spot along the bank.  Pudd caught the first fish on a bobber, a bright colored sunfish (or as we call them back home, bluegill) about the size of his hand. 

Hubby set me up to fish for catfish and loaded my hook with a big glob of bloody chicken liver.  Gross!  I cast it out and plopped down in my chair to wait for the bite.  Soon enough, my pole was bending and I was excitedly reeling in my first catfish!  Oh boy!  I squealed with delight and the noise echoed across the lake!

The weather was perfect for fishing.  It was nice and cool as the clouds kept the sun at bay and we had a light drizzle every so often to keep the temperatures down.  There was the perfect breeze and the lake was calm.  There weren't many people there, which was surprising for a holiday weekend, but we did see a few boats around the edge of the lake and up near the dam.  It was peaceful and quiet.

That is, until I hooked another monster!  Pretty soon, my pole nearly jerked right out of my hands and I jumped up and gave it a good yank to set the hook.  It was bent almost in half as I cranked the reel as best I could.  I was screaming and yelling and Hubby was standing next to me while Pudd shouted out for me to slow down and hang on!  I just knew I had a record-breaking fish on the end of that line and I was determined to pull it in.

I had the line a little closer to the bank when all of a sudden SNAP! went my line and ZING! it came flying back towards me and THWACK! there it came and CONKED! poor Hubby right in the eye with a loud THUD!  He doubled over clutching his hand to his eye and I just knew I'd yanked his eyeball out with my hook!  I think we all held our breath as we waited for Hubby to straighten back up and when he did, he had blood coming down the side of his face and I just knew that big old globby chicken liver had flown out of the water and hit him right in the eye!

I surveyed the damage, the monster fish long forgotten, and Hubby checked my line to see what in the world happened to my hook.  The line had been snapped and the hook and bait were nowhere to be found.  The blood coming down Hubby's face wasn't from the liver at all, but from him!  The sinker on my line, which was about an inch long and made of solid lead, had popped him right in the eye on his brow bone and there was a big gash with blood oozing out.  Poor sweetie!  I felt awful!

In all the commotion with me and my monster fish (which was probably a turtle, we later agreed), poor Hubby had left his pole unattended and it was bending like crazy toward the water as he had a fish on the end of his pole too!  I screamed and pointed toward his pole and Pudd ran over to set the hook for him and reel it in.  Pretty soon that pole was bent nearly in half and THWOP! it broke right in two!  Poor Hubby!  This was not turning out to be a very good day.  Pudd felt awful that he'd broken Sid's fishing pole, but all was well and Hubby was able to fix it right back up and continue fishing.

We laughed and told stories, had a nice lunch, mosied around the edge of the lake to try a few more spots and ended up catching a total of four fish altogether.  It was a fun day, despite the mishaps and hopefully Hubby won't be deterred from taking me again real soon.  Next time, we'll bring his helmet and a first-aid kit though, just in case!

The Bulldog and the Bloodhound

Dudley got his first official girlfriend this weekend and he's smitten!  Our neighbor's dog Scarlett got loose and decided to wander around the neighborhood in search of new surroundings.  I guess she got bored down there at the end of the road with no one to play with but goats, pigs and chickens.  She found her way into our yard and when Dudley caught sight of her through the screen door, he went wild!

He actually heard her coming before he even saw her, as Scarlett wears a goat bell around her neck and you can hear it clang-clang-clanging a mile away.  She lumbered into the yard on those long legs of hers, ears flopping this way and that, and she climbed up onto our porch.  When Dudley caught sight of that humongous, gorgeous red-head with those droopy brown eyes, he nearly busted out the screen door!  His tail was wagging so fast he couldn't even walk straight. 

We let him out for a closer look and that was the beginning of what I'm sure is to be a great love affair.  They hit if off right away and chased each other all around the porch and yard.  It wasn't long before Dudley was huffing and puffing with exhaustion and we had to pull him away and bring him inside before he keeled over with a heart attack. 

The minute we set him down inside, he collapsed on his side, his fat little belly heaving as he tried to catch his breath.  He was barking and growling and flailing his legs as his body betrayed him from being able to continue his play with his new love.  Soon he was fast asleep and snoring loudly, probably dreaming of his sweet Scarlett.  What an unusual pair they made!

Puppy Pandemonium!

Our house has officially been turned upside down and inside out!  We are worn to a frazzle and don't even remember what it feels like to sleep in anymore, let alone sleep through the night.  Dudley has taken over and we're reminded that you don't own a bulldog, the bulldog owns you!  He is definitely king of the castle and we are his lowly servants, attending to his every beck (or should I say bark!) and call. 

I think we're still a little rummied, going through our days like zombies, still in shock that we are parents again.  It's been forever and a day since we had a puppy this young in the house, and we're having to go through the aches and pains of potty training, fending off sharp-as-razor puppy teeth and watching where we step because he's always under foot.  Don't get me wrong though, it's not always "No! No!" and "Ouch!" and "Well for heaven's sake, you want to go out again?"  He does have his sweet, cuddly side too, where he snores in your lap or gives your chin and neck puppy kisses.  And we're running out of room on the computer for all the cute photos and videos we're constantly taking.  He's just so adorable.

According to the puppy potty training websites, we're doing everything right as far as trying to train him, but we were discouraged to learn that it takes up to six months for a puppy to be totally potty trained.  Ugh!  My carpet will never last that long!  Just when we think we've outsmarted him, he throws us for another loop.  He's a sneaky little guy, but oh so cute.  It's hard to get mad when he looks up at you with those beautiful blue-gray eyes and that sweet, wrinkly face.

Our hands and arms and ankles are covered with puppy bites and bruises, so I've taken to wearing gloves when I play with him in the evenings now.  Puppy bites are the worst!  We've bought him a dozen fancy chew toys, but his favorites seem to be our ankles and hands.  He's a ferocious little bugger.  The only good thing about him playing so rough is that he wears himself out so easily that soon enough, he's snoring away.  He's cutest when he's asleep.

We love you Dudley, and we're so happy to have you with us!  Bulldog love is the best there is and we're the happiest two parents in the world right now, even if we are a little tired and worn out!

Never a Dull Moment

A lot of things have been going on around our little place since I last wrote.  Life on the Hollow got turned upside down when we lost our sweet Tubby, but nonetheless it moved along.  Cooter made sure we didn't forget he was our baby too, as he kicked down the fence one day while I was home sick with a migraine.  I was laying in bed with a pillow over my head, wishing away my throbbing headache when all of a sudden I heard what sounded like thunder outside the bedroom window.  I thought to myself, "Oh goodie!  A nice rainstorm to lull me to sleep!" and I slumped down further under the covers.  A few minutes later the thunder rumbled again, only this time I realized the thunder wasn't accompanied by the patter of raindrops on the roof and the sun was shining just a little too brightly through the window for it to be storming out.  Uh oh!  That wasn't thunder!  It was the tell-tale signs of horse and donkey hooves running around the house!

Sure enough, when I got up and looked out the window, there was our neighbor's horse in the front yard and low and behold, there was Cooter standing right beside him!  I got my shoes on and called my nearest neighbor to help round them up.  I knew the horse would be no problem at all, but catching Cooter was going to be a different story!  Long story short, my neighbor and I spent two long hours in the hot sun trying to catch that stupid, old donkey but we never could.  The best we could manage was to steer him into my neighbor's pasture where at least he'd be fenced in and couldn't run amok through the neighborhood causing mayhem and destruction all along the way.  That evening, it took four grown men to rope my wayward donkey and bring him back home.  That was a sight to see, for sure!  I watched from the safety of my back porch as two country boys, a city boy and my sweet hubby (who's a little of both) run up and down my neighbor's hillside chasing that donkey, lassoing him and then holding on for dear life as he drug them all around the pasture and back home.  Cooter's nostrils were flaring and he was covered in sweat and you could almost see the steam coming out of his ears, he was so mad.  Hubby fixed the fence and all was well.  Even my headache was long gone.

A week or two later, we had another farm animal incident.  Hubby and I were sitting in the living room watching tv one night with the front door open.  It was dark out and the lightning bugs were flickering all over the lawn, crickets and tree frogs chirping away and MOOOOOOOOO!  A cow bellowing in the front yard?  Good heavens!  Sure enough, right outside our front door there stood a great big longhorn cow with horns so big they stretched across her head four or five feet!  Sid jumped up and ran for his jeans and boots and I grabbed the phone and the flashlight and started calling the neighbor that owned the cows.  Of course, this late at night, no one was answering the phone so it was up to us to round her up.  He jumped in his jeep as she headed up our neighbor's driveway toward the back pasture.  Way in the back, there was a fence down and this one lone Mama cow had gotten out.  She was crying for her baby, who was back with the rest of the herd.  It was dark as pitch out, and the cow was black, so all you could see was her eyes glowing in the tall grass and hear her mournful cry.  Sid finally got ahold of the owners of the cows and they came down and helped get her back in the fence before the rest of the herd got out too.  Another session of fixing fences and all was well.  Sheesh!  Too much excitement for what's supposed to be peaceful country living!

At the end of July, we brought home another sweet bulldog puppy in hopes of filling our house with some good old bulldog cuddling and snoring.  We fell in love with that cute little bundle of joy, but our time was cut short after the vet found a birth defect and we had to give him back.  Our hearts were broken and the house was empty once again.  We tried to busy ourselves as best we could to keep our minds off the sadness.  Hubby found someone willing to sell us hay for the donkeys for the Winter, so we cleaned out the hayloft of the barn out back by the pond and got it ready for the new hay.  The hay was delivered late one evening right before dark and the forecast was calling for rain later that night.  We went into panic mode because we didn't know how in the world we'd be able to load 145 bales of hay into the top of that barn with just the two of us.  Luckily, we were blessed with several friends and neighbors who showed up right at dark and we all headed back to the barn and got it loaded within two hours!  We had four strong men, three strong boys, a sweet girlfriend to one of the men and me, huffing and puffing to do my share of the work and we got it done without any injuries or mishaps.  Praise the Lord for them all!

Hubby had a birthday party and again we were surrounded with loving friends to help us celebrate.  Later in the month he went on a nice long motorcycle ride with a bunch of his friends and they had a wonderful time.  We had a nice visit from my beautiful Sister and her two dogs that didn't seem to last long enough.  Her visits never do.  She could stay a whole month and it wouldn't be long enough for me.  We ran around town together, shopped and got our nails done, went out to eat, visited and made new friends.  We met a sweet couple from Oregon who live here now and turned a historic trolley car into a food truck downtown.  I never would have met them if Tiff hadn't been with me because I'm the shy one and she's the friendly, outgoing one of the family who doesn't know a stranger.  We also met a nice man who owns a bookstore in town and reminded me of Wild Bill Cody.  He showed us all around his wonderful store and we spent a couple hours looking through old books and swapping stories.  Another person I would have never met if it wasn't for her.  She's so adventurous.  Her dogs got to experience the country life, rolled in cow poo and barked at funny looking long-earred, loud-mouthed donkeys.  Things they don't get to experience living in the big city.

The night after Tiff went back home, we got a wild hair and called about another bulldog puppy.  Just so happened we were able to meet up and bring one home that very night!  We never dreamed it would be that easy!  All of a sudden our life was filled with bulldog love all over again, just like that!  He's nine weeks old and we named him Dudley and he's the cutest thing ever.  We've had him for a week now and he's claimed our hearts and made our house a home again.  You'll be hearing a lot about him, I'm sure.

Life has it's way of ups and downs and you just have to hang on tight and experience the ride.  That's what we've been doing, and will continue to do.  Thank you Lord for our crazy, silly life!

Tears for Tubby

When I started this blog site in January of 2010, it was to mourn the loss of our beloved dog Jake who had died after blessing our lives for 11 years.  I thought writing would be therapeutical for me during my grief and I wanted to share the memories with everyone.  At the time, I never believed my heart could be more broken than it was when we lost him.

As I write this entry, we are deeply grieving the loss of our precious Tubby, who we lost suddenly and inconceivably yesterday.  We are in utter shock and our grief is enormous.  My heart is broken all over again and the pain is even greater in that we were so unprepared.

How could I choose just one single photo from the hundreds that we have, to top this entry of my sweet angel Tubby?  I wish I could put every single photo of him on this site as each and every one is etched in my mind forever.  Tubby on the bed, wagging his tail profusely.  Tubby asleep with his tongue hanging out, snoring away.  Tubby with bunny ears on at Easter.  Tubby chewing his favorite bone.  Tubby with his head on Sid's shoulder or laying in his lap.  Tubby, our baby, our whole life.

I walked around in shock yesterday, tearful and sobbing as I tried to put all his toys and things in a bag to put away.  We picked up his room and took out his bed.  I washed his dog dishes and cried over all the times he shoved his whole face down into that dish to eat, while food flew everywhere around my kitchen.  I cried for all the times I scolded him for making such a mess and for any negative thoughts I had while sweeping up afterward. 

I cry for poor Sid, who had to be the one to carry him home in his arms and dig a hole in the backyard to bury his best friend.  How God gave him the strength to do it, I don't know.  God put Tubby on this earth to do one thing and that was to love tremendously and to be tremendously loved.  Everyone who knew Tubs, loved him.  He didn't know a stranger and loved everyone that came around.  He was just simply the happiest dog ever.  We were so blessed to have him in our lives.  He made our home a home.  When I came home at night, it was to be welcomed by him and his floppy face.  When we fell asleep at night, it was with him at our feet, and when we woke in the morning, it was to him snuggled up between us, sprawled out and snoring away as always.  We lived and breathed for that dog.  He was our baby and the heart of our family.

I have so many beautiful memories of him that I will always carry in my heart.  He's everywhere I look, and in my thoughts as I close my eyes.  Our hearts are aching.  We love you Tubby.

Magical Groundhogland

We have this chubby little groundhog that lives in a culvert in the ditch in front of our house.  He's the cutest little thing and he's lived there for a few years now, at least.  He comes out the first of Spring and we see him in the yard all through the end of Fall, right before it starts getting cold for the Winter.  He eats pears that have fallen from our tree in the Fall, and he wanders all around the grass in our side yard in the mornings and evenings, looking for what, I don't know.

The other day, I saw him climb out of the culvert and stand up on his haunches, looking all around.  I think he timidly sneaks his way out into the open and then stands as tall as he can, looking all around for any dangers before he ventures out into the grass, or across the road to explore.  He looks like he's already put on some weight, which means he's been eating well this season.  He's cute as can be.  I decided it was high time I marched on over to the ditch to introduce myself, so I did.

As I approached the ditch, the groundhog had his back to me.  He was standing tall again, and the closer I got, I could see his whiskers twitching as he turned his head to and fro, watching across the road.  I got within a few feet of him and he must have sensed me coming because he jumped straight up in the air and turned around to face me in one quick movement.  His eyes were wide as saucers, but when he realized it was me and that I meant him no harm, he seemed to compose himself and tilted his head in question at me.  I knelt in the grass before him and proceeded to introduce myself.  "Hello Mr. Groundhog, how are you this fine sunny day?"  I reached out my hand toward him and he extended his furry little paw and shook one of my fingers.  "I thought I might come introduce myself after all these years of watching you in our yard.  I hope you don't mind," I told him.

"Oh my, how wonderful!" he said.  "I've always wanted to meet you too.  Please, come and let me show you around my humble abode," he said, and motioned toward the culvert in the ditch with his furry little paw.  He started to run toward the ditch and turned back to see if I was following.  I stood up and walked to the ditch and he ran down and stood in front of the culvert pipe, which was the entrance to his little home.  "Come on down!" he said, and I replied, "Oh don't be silly! I could never fit my big old self through that tiny little culvert!"  "Sure you can," he said.  "Come on, I'll show you!"

Hesitantly, I knelt down in the grass again and crawled down into the ditch.  I got to the culvert entrance and suddenly it didn't seem so small.  Maybe I could fit through here after all.  The groundhog led the way and I followed along after him.  Once we got through the dark tunnel of the culvert, the ground seemed to open up a little more and there was room to move around.  I was amazed at what all I saw!  There was room after room in this underground world and each was decorated in it's own wonderful way!  Tiny little lanterns hung around the rooms filled with fireflies lighting our way.  There was one big room with vegetables hanging from the ceiling.  Each had tags hanging from them with words written on them to identify the vegetable.  There were radishes, turnips, carrots, beets and potatoes, to name a few.  Among those veggies, there were numerous roots hanging around and clumps of this and that, and I realized we were underneath our neighbor's garden!  These were the vegetables planted in the garden and apparently the groundhog had labeled the ones that he liked to eat the best.  They were all within reach and whenever he got a hankerin for a radish, all he had to do was reach up and pull it down to eat it.  How clever!

There was another room lined with walnut shells and inside each shell was something different.  Dandelion heads, purple clover blossoms, dried beetles, grub worms, apple and pear seeds and peach pits in a pile in the corner.  Tiny little bowls filled with items for storage.  There was a long since abandoned turtle shell in the corner filled with water and there was a long reed hanging down out of the ceiling drip-drip-dripping the water down into the shell to keep it full.  One of the rooms must have been for sleeping because it had several spaces throughout the room where mud had been packed down tightly to form a bed and soft cottony fuzz and bird feathers had been placed around for comfort.  In this room, there were butterfly and moth wings pasted about on the walls and it was so pretty.

I was in awe as the groundhog led me from room to room.  What a beautiful little home he had made for himself down here and how lucky I was that he was willing to show it all to me.  I know he was proud as he saw how impressed I was with his cleverness.

Once the tour was over and he led me back out through the culvert, I straightened up and brushed the dirt from my hands and knees, hugged the little groundhog, who was now my dear and trusted friend, and bid him farewell.  I'm so glad to have him as our neighbor!

Ticked Off!

I couldn't put it off any longer.  I just had to get outside and pull weeds in my flowerbeds this weekend.  I hadn't given the beds any special attention since we planted all the flowers last month, and they were in desperate need of some loving care.  We have this awful grass that creeps up into the beds that I just despise!  It's so invasive and hard to pull.  And out front under the trees, we have this new ivy that has been popping up out of nowhere and it's choking out my flowers that are planted out there.  I don't know where it came from, but it's all over the place.  Sure hope it's not poison ivy, but whatever it is, it's days are numbered!

Saturday morning after breakfast, I put on sunscreen and bug spray, pinned my hair up and donned my gloves and out I went.  I was about halfway through the big flowerbed out under the pear tree when I looked down at my feet and saw about a million ticks crawling all over my feet!  Ugh!  I went to the back porch and started stomping my feet to get the little buggers off me.  They were scattering all over my feet and through my toes and who knows where else they'd gotten to, so I went inside and took off all my clothes for a thorough inspection.  Most women would avoid a three-way full length mirror like the plague, but I sure was wishing I had one then!  After bending and stretching my body like a freakshow contortionist, I found some on my shoulders and arms, on my hip, a couple on my legs and one on my neck.  Gross!  I pulled them all off and jumped in the shower to scrub myself raw.  I hate bugs!

In the meantime, Hubby took some spray out under the trees and saturated the ground with it.  It said it was safe for use on plants, so he just sprayed the whole bed.  Later that evening, I went out to try and finish the job and this time I only got about three ticks on me, so that wasn't so bad.  I took another shower afterward though, just in case.

The next evening, I went back out to finish the beds closest to the house.  I finished the sides and front and watered all the flowers.  This time when I was done, I only found a couple ticks, but one tick is too many so back in the shower I hopped again.  Every time I felt even the slightest tickle on my arm or leg, I got to itching thinking there was another tick on me again.  I just can't stand bugs of any kind and especially ticks.  They are sneaky little creepers that get into the worse nooks and crannies!  Just typing about them makes me itch.

I wish they made Frontline for humans.  A little dab of medicine behind our necks and poof!  Goodbye ticks!  If there was a pill to take to ward them off, I'd take one for sure!  They take all the joy out of spending a nice sunny day out in the yard!  When I get to Heaven, I'm going to ask God why in the world he ever created these awful bugs!

Breakfast Terror

Weekends are the only times Hubby and I get to have a good sit-down breakfast together.  We usually sleep in for as long as our animals will let us, and then we get up and have a nice breakfast.  This weekend, Cooter was the one to wake us up first with his loud, mournful hee hawing.  You'd think he was starving to death the way he carries on.  No rest for the wicked around our house, that's for sure.  So, up we got and after I had fed the brood, I started fixing our breakfast.

Hubby tuned into a good 70's station and while I hummed along to a Paul McCartney song, I put the bacon on to fry.  I peeled a couple potatoes, plopped some Crisco into a skillet on the stove and pulled out the cutting board to start chopping up the taters.  I finished with one potato and took the cutting board over to the stove to scrape the potato into the skillet, then walked back to the counter and OHMYGOODNESSGRACIOUS there on the counter, right where my cutting board had sat, was the biggest, ugliest, squirmiest centipede I've ever seen in my entire life!  I let out the loudest blood curdling scream you ever heard and in less than a millisecond I was clear across the other side of the house standing next to our bed and hyperventilating. 

Hubby and Tubby were standing there looking at me like I'd grown three heads and I'm sure Hubby just knew I'd cut my finger off with one of his sharp knives.  "What's wrong?!" he yelled and I was so scared that I couldn't even speak.  I spluttered out, "CENT- (heavy breathing)-I-(more heavy breathing)- PEDE! as best I could and flailed one arm toward the kitchen, clutching my chest with the other.  I just knew I was going to pass out any minute.  My arms and legs were all tingly and I couldn't catch my breath.

Hubby to the rescue!  He grabbed that three-foot long centipede by it's middle, twirled it around in the air above his head, and wrestled it to the floor while Tubby looked on from his hiding spot underneath Daddy's chair.  The centipede gnashed it's slimy fangs at Hubby and tried to stab him with it's vicious stinger.  It put up a good fight, millions of legs moving every which way, but it was no match for Super Sid!  My Hero!

After about five minutes, I had calmed down enough to finish making breakfast and surprisingly, the bacon hadn't burned and all my ten fingers were still accounted for.  I was still shaking like a leaf and jittery throughout the process, my eyes darting here and there for any relatives that might have been left behind, but I made it through.  No coffee needed for me that morning, that's for sure!

My Beautiful Mother

How thankful I am that God gave me such a beautiful Mother.  I thank Him for her every single day of my life.  She is everything I've hoped to one day be, and so much more.  She has always been my one true constant, loving me unconditionally and guiding me through life's good times and bad times, always there for me when I've needed her. 

Just hearing her voice is a soothing balm.  The sacrifices she has made for me throughout my life have not gone unnoticed.  As I've grown older, I look back and realize just how much she has truly sacrificed of herself to put my well-being first and foremost.  I don't deserve this devotion, but I understand it's what a mother does.  At least it's what my Mother has always done.

I love her strength, her friendship, her faith in God, her beautiful smile, her girlish giggle, the twinkle in her voice, her soft hands, her warmth, her sense of humor, even her stubborn streak.  I always dreamed that one day I would have a daughter of my own to share the same bond I've had with my Mom all these years, but that dream never came true.  Instead, I'm the mother to three loud-mouthed donkeys and a floppy-faced bulldog.  Not quite the mothering bond I had hoped for, but I love them nonetheless.  I wouldn't be able to love at all if it weren't for the love my Mother has continually lavished on me throughout my life.  She taught me how to love and made me what I am today. 

Thank you Lord, for my beautiful Mother.

Dreaming of Donk-a-Poodles

The other morning, I had the sweetest dream!  I was stepping out the back door and into the yard and this sweet, precious, tiny baby donkey came running up to me out of nowhere!  It was gray (unlike my donkeys, who are brown) and fuzzy, about the size of a small puppy.  It had floppy ears like Winnie the Pooh's Eeyore, and curly gray hair on its head like a poodle.  It had long, black eyelashes and the cutest little soft black nose and a fat belly, just like a puppy would have with a tummy full of milk.  It was so excited to see me and seemed like it was just starving for attention.

I squealed with delight and bent down and picked it up in my arms and nuzzled it to my neck and it just licked me all over the face and wriggled all around.  I kept looking all around to see where in the world it might have come from and then Hubby came outside and saw it and he just looked at me with this round-eyed ohmygosh expression on his face and I said, "Go inside and get the camera, quick!"  He grabbed the camera and we started taking pictures of this sweet little creature.  We were just in awe that it was so tiny, yet obviously it was some sort of donkey and I begged and begged if I could please, please, please keep it!

It was running all around my feet and wagging it's tail and I picked it up again and cradled it in my arms, rubbing it's soft belly.  I noticed it had some thorns and stickers in it's belly fur, so I laid him down on his back and said, "Now you stay there!" and it did just as I said and laid there very still while I went inside to get some tweezers.  When I came back, he was still lying there patiently and I pulled the little stickers out of his fur and rubbed his tummy again and he seemed so happy.  Then I woke up. . .

Later that morning, I made sure I told Hubby my dream before I ate breakfast.  If you tell your dreams (and nightmares!) to someone before you eat, then they come true, you know! (wink wink)  I wanted this dream to come true for sure!  All day long I thought about that sweet little donk-a-poodle and the more I thought about him, the more I wanted him for my very own.  I sure hope my dream comes true!

Happy May Day

I remember when we were little girls, on May Day my sister and I used to make these little cone shaped baskets out of colored construction paper and we'd fill them with lilacs from the back yard and hang them on a favorite neighbor's front door.  We'd ring the bell and run off and hide, waiting for the surprised neighbor to find our May Day gift.  I wonder if kids still do this?  I've never found one on my front door on May Day.  Boo Hoo. . .

Bunnies in the Garden

I love living out in the country.  It's so peaceful and pretty out here and there's always something new to see.  Every morning on my way to work, or even on the drive back home, I get to see so many neat things that I wouldn't get to see if we lived in town.  This morning I saw a cute little turtle crossing the road with his neck all stretched out in front of him like he was straining with all his might to pull himself across the road.  I saw two newborn baby calves standing by a fence and when I pulled up close to them, they both jumped and ran around kicking up their legs.  I saw some squirrels chasing each other around the base of a tree, some deer eating their breakfast in a pretty green field and a whole family of yellow baby ducks in some one's front yard, pecking in the grass with a bunch of chickens like they all belonged together.  The blackberry bushes are already blooming and you can see them everywhere all along fence rows and clumped together in the middle of farmer's pastures.  Everything is so pretty and green and lush.  The ivy is covering the front of the big red barn across the street and flowers are blooming everywhere.

Last night, I was cleaning the kitchen and while standing at the sink, I looked out the window and saw three bunnies running all around in the yard.  They were just running all around like they were chasing each other, hopping under the trees, through the bushes, across the road and back again, through my bed of irises and back underneath the trees again.  I never saw such active bunnies and it was so cute.  I went to get my camera so I could get a picture and then I thought I glimpsed the neighbor girl outside, so I thought to myself, "Oh, Belle would just love to see those bunnies!"  I looked closer to see if she was watching them, but she had her back to them and was standing there with her fingers in her ears.  I thought this was weird, so I looked closer and saw her Daddy was crouching behind a tree and he had a GUN and was SHOOTING THE BUNNIES!!!!!  No wonder they were running all around willy nilly through the yard!  They were running for their lives!

I ran out the back door and yelled at a grown man as if I was scolding a two-year old boy!  "No! No!" I yelled, shaking my finger and stomping my foot.  "You're bad!" I yelled.  The neighbor man looked over at me with a sheepish grin on his red face and said, "I'm sorry Miss Toni, but the rabbits are eating my garden."  (They moved here from Florida, so maybe they aren't accustomed to country living and this is his first garden.)  I asked him please not to shoot my bunnies, and I told him they lived under my barn and I feed them carrots and lettuce in the evenings.  They are like my very own, even though I know they are wild.  While we were talking, one of the poor little bunnies came running right up to me and came within about two or three feet like he was coming to me for help.  He was shaking like a leaf and I could see his ear was all bloody where the man had shot him.  Poor little sweetie.  I crouched down and called him to me and he stood there looking at me, then scampered off under the barn.  I told the neighbor I'd go inside and look on the computer to find out what he could do to keep the rabbits out of his garden.

I went inside and googled "rabbits in the garden" and found a site that said if you sprinkled black pepper or chili powder around newly planted veggies, the rabbits wouldn't come near them.  It also mentioned bone meal, or blood meal, and putting up chicken wire.  I went back outside and told the neighbor so hopefully he'll try one of these remedies instead of shooting my poor little bunnies!  The last thing I want to see when I look outside my kitchen window is dead bunnies in my yard!

So much for a peaceful existence in the country!  Now my neighbor probably thinks I'm a nut and I feel like a fool for yelling at him.  Maybe I'll stop at the store tonight and buy him a big can of pepper and some chicken wire and take it over as a peace offering.  I guess it couldn't hurt, and maybe my bunnies will be spared.

TV Time with Tubby

Last night there was absolutely NOTHING on tv but repeats.  I can't believe we have over 200 channels and I couldn't find anything worth watching.  I finally settled on Little House on the Prairie and actually found it to be an episode I don't remember ever seeing as a kid.  It was one of the later shows with Albert, the adopted son, and a more grown-up version of Laura.  They had dressed up as Indians for a Halloween party at mean old Nellie Olson's house, but before they left, Ma made them take a nap since they would be up so much later than usual.

As Laura lay sleeping, Albert was reading a book called Massacre at Stony Pass.  As he went through the story, which apparently was about Indians, he fell asleep and proceeded to "dream" the episode.  The comical dream-episode showed he and Laura walking to the party and being mistaken for young Indian braves and captured by another tribe.  There were wild chases on horseback, Indian war cries and whoops and hollers, brightly colored headdresses and faces with warpaint and crazy scenes where the US Cavalry sends in the Blue Coats to save the day, horns trumpeting and gunfire galore.  Quite the entertaining episode, but much more so because Tubby, our sweet, floppy-faced bulldog, was sitting on my lap the whole time watching the screen intently and "woofing" all throughout!

He was absolutely enthralled with those brightly colored Indians and whenever they let out a howl or screamed like banshees, he about fell out of the chair.  His eyes were glued to the screen and his ears kept moving back and forth as he listened to all the different voices and noises.  When the horses were on the screen he sat up straighter and actually shook with anticipation.  He loves horses!  If it hadn't been so dark in our living room at the time, I would have tried to take a video.  I did manage to take a picture, but when the camera went off, Tubby jumped a foot and I started giggling uncontrollably.  Poor old Tubs probably thought one of those wild Indians had snuck up behind him with a hatchet.

He settled right back down though, and finished watching the show.  When all the fun had ended and the show was over (Albert woke up and he and Laura were home safe and sound), Tubs laid his head down on my feet and started snoring away.  I guess all that commotion tuckered the little guy out.

Hot Tamales!

Hubby's Mama paid us a nice long visit earlier this month and boy did we ever have fun!  All we did was cook and shop the entire time she was here.  The first day she was here, we made about four dozen flour tortillas.  I never make a batch that big and it seems like we stood in that kitchen for hours!  She never used measuring cups or spoons, just throws it all in a big bowl and somehow it turns out perfectly.  I, on the other hand, have a little recipe card tucked away in a wooden box and follow the instructions line for line and my tortillas never seem to turn out as good as hers.  Her mounds of dough, which she kneads in her hands one by one, are perfectly formed and ready to roll.  When she rolls them out, they all become precise circles of identical sizes, whereas mine are all jagged around the edges and tend to lean more toward the shapes of the states than round like they're meant to be. 

The next day, Hubby had a friend over and she cooked a crock pot of beans, a big pot of rice and made some carne asada with some of the venison we had from his last hunting spree.  The boys filled their plates and feasted!  Later that night, Mama put two big pork roasts to boiling on the stove and for four hours they cooked until the meat was falling off the bone.  We cooled the pot in a sink of cold water and after the meat had cooled enough, she pulled the meat apart with her fingers and set it aside in a big bowl for our cooking tasks the following day.

The next morning around 10:00, we decided to tackle the tamales.  Mama had mailed us her big, huge tamale pot and tortilla press ahead of time, knowing I wouldn't have those in my tiny little kitchen.  We set up a card table and some garden benches in the middle of the kitchen floor and she put the pulled pork to simmer in a skillet with spices.  We soaked the corn husks in a sink of water so they would become soft and pliable, and Mama started on the masa dough.  Again, here she goes with no measuring cups or spoons.  She just dumped the whole bag of masa into a bowl and started adding warm chicken broth and lard until it was the perfect consistency.  She kneaded the dough with her hands and had masa meal up to her elbows!  Once the masa was done, we took the corn husks out of the sink and she plopped a gob of dough into each husk and spread it out evenly with her fingertips.  My job was to fill the husks with meat and roll them up tightly, tucking the end of the husk underneath to form a perfect tamale.  We sat there for hours filling one after another until we had eight and a half dozen tamales all stacked up on trays.  By 2:00 we were ready to put them into the pot.

Our neighbor had loaned us his outdoor turkey fryer and we used the propane burner to cook our tamales out in the backyard.  We managed to squeeze every single tamale into that big pot with barely an inch to spare, and we put it on the burner to steam.  In a couple hours, our backyard smelled heavenly!  We cooked them back there until about dark and then they were done.  Yum!

The next night, after a day of shopping in town, we made chicken enchiladas and had leftover rice and beans and fresh guacamole.  I'd never eaten so much Mexican food in one single week!  I must have gained 10 pounds in the 11 days she was here, but boy was it ever worth it!

The day after I tearfully took her to the airport for her trip back home, I felt like a zombie.  I was exhausted and lonely and didn't know what to do with myself in that quiet house without her.  It was such a whirlwind of activity for the past two weeks and all of a sudden I felt like I'd hit a brick wall.  Her bedroom was all made up as though she'd never been there, and even Tubby was walking room to room wondering where his Nana had gone.  The only sign that she'd been there was the freezer full of tamales, a few tortillas left on the kitchen counter and a heart full of memories we'd shared while she was here.  Thank you Mama, for everything!  We love you and miss you!