Well, almost the top of the world, not quite. We're in Iceland and it is absolutely spectacular here! And it's cool! They're having a heat wave back home with temps in the 90s but here it's mid 40s and the sun is shining and it is just beautiful!
We had a direct flight from Whidbey Island and after a snack from my duffel bag, I leaned against the giant squid and slept the entire way. It's what I do best on airplanes. According to the Neanderthal, it keeps me out of mischief but it also makes me well rested for whatever is going to happen when we land.
Naturally I was starved when that happened and to keep me happy, the giant squid took me to an old-fashioned TEXAS Bar-B-Q house IN ICELAND! I ate everything and since I was bouncing with excess energy, we took a nice long walk along the main shopping street. Cowboy held onto my hand as we walked because he says he could blink and I could disappear from view.
"Tsk. That would never happen. It would take at least two blinks."
SWAT!
Tsk.
He is fond of saying we were window shopping... I saw it as "casing the area" so I'd know which shops needed contributions from his credit card. Christmas isn't that far away; I wanted to get a few things. That's why I packed an empty duffel bag... We also found an ice cream shoppe so we stopped in there, too.
So far, so good.
We stayed at the visiting officers' quarters at the naval base for the first few nights and when Cowboy's military tasks were completed, we moved into an Icelandic hotel. We'll be here a couple more days before flying home for a week or so and then we're off again.
While Cowboy was busy at the base, one of the other officer's wives took me out shopping and sight seeing. We were stationed here for a brief period many years ago and things have changed a lot. The views, the water, the geysers, panoramic and all still breathtaking. The shops, the restaurants, the "night" scene - much more "Western" with a European flavor.
Looking out over the ocean, it feels like I'm standing on top of the world. Cowboy says the North Pole is the top of the world but he's a sailor and he navigates by stars and the night sky and sometimes, by where the sun is positioned overhead. I'm a land lubber - when I'm standing on some naturally high edifice with solid ground beneath my feet and I look out over the ocean, it feels like I'm at the top of the world.
"The North Pole, bambina, not Iceland."
"What about Lapland?"
"What about it?"
"Allegedly, Santa lives at the North Pole but don't his reindeers come from Lapland? I think Lapland might be the top of the world."
SWAT!
Jeez. Sailors are a sensitive bunch.
"Do you suppose Santa has a summer home there? If he does, he could get a spare team in case Donder and Blunder and Trixie and Mixin and Rudolph get too old."
SWAT!
Good God! Don't ruin a little boy's fantasies about Santa Claus no matter how old or tall or senior ranked he is.
SWAT!
Double tsk!
Shopping here has been wunderbar! Most folks speak English, some speak German or one of the Nordic tongues - Danish, Swedish, Norn - and of course, Icelandic. I love hearing all the different languages and I tried hard to learn how to say a few naughty words in Icelandic but everyone I asked knew Cowboy and chose to stay out of the brig. Big wusses.
At the end of my second shopping day, Cowboy asked me to give his credit card back.
"Why?"
"Cause it's burning so hot, it's been sending me smoke signals all day."
"What do the smoke signals say?"
"They say if you don't slow down, I'm going to smoke your butt."
Tsk! I was shocked.
"That's very kinky."
SWAT!
Double tsk. The credit card company must have called him.
We went sight seeing and later, all bundled up in sweaters and parkas, we went out on a sailboat. The sun was shining, the wind mild enough for us but strong enough for the sails and absolutely stunning scenery. At night, a whole group of us met on the beach, lit a fire and ate pickled herring and some kind of wheat cake and drank a hot brew that made me a little tipsy... Apparently a little too tipsy because it was later reported that a U.S. Navy Admiral's wife began singing all twelve verses to "The Bastard King of England." Surely that could NOT have been me - I only know eight verses.
Cowboy said it wasn't much longer after that when he said our goodnights and he rushed me back to the hotel and took advantage of my slightly drunken state. Tsk. The man is totally lacking in couth.
~Sar~
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Summer Travels
Cowboy here. The imp is busy doing imp things. Not sure I want to know what that entails. We were supposed to go out of town yesterday but a last minute glitch delayed our trip for a few days. I have a temporary duty assignment elsewhere and am taking Sar with me.
She's packed and ready to go. We're sharing a duffel that's loaded with chocolate and Cracker Jacks and Twinkies and very few clothes. Fortunately, my uniforms are in a garment bag. I suspect my credit card will get a good workout; Sar will probably buy anything she needs (and wants) when we get to our destination.
We'll be visiting Navy bases. Half of the base commandants are eager to see the imp; she's a favorite of theirs. The other half are using her visit as an opportunity to test their security. I hope she didn't pack her lock picks.
The animals know she's leaving. They don't seem to mind when I go out of town but when they see her pack chocolate, they know she's leaving and they're not happy about it. When I go out of town, Sar feeds them extra treats like all the meat in the freezer and they'll eat a lot more takeout. Beer and wine consumption goes up too. Sar doesn't drink beer and she isn't much of a wine drinker but I notice my Port and Merlot supplies are diminished when I get home. The Rott is a wine-o.
She spent most of this afternoon on the back deck with all her pups. Our outside Rotts think the sun rises and sets on her and rightly so. We rescued them when they were less than a year old and in bad shape and today they are 2 handsome and healthy and well trained dogs. Both of them continue to charge toward her when they see her but also skid to a stop before bowling her over. The male Rott outweighs her by about 10-15 lbs. and the female Rott has at least 5 lbs. on her. One of my favorite photos of her is one with the big Rott's head resting in her lap.
All 4 dogs, 3 Rotts and the Mastiff lay as close to her as they can get. I stand at the back door and listen to her. She talks to them and they talk back making throat sounds. Rotts can be very cat-like. Ours make a soft growling sound that is a sound of content similar to a cat's purr. We are still fostering the much older bloodhound Archie. He lays at Sar's feet and seems happy to be there.
We have a house/pet sitter that stays here when we're away. Sar will call home every couple of nights to make sure all is ok. The house sitter says the dogs get excited when they hear her voice on the speakerphone. Come to think of it, so do I.
We'll try to update the blog during our travels. Sar is bound to have something to say about where we've been and just how much of a Neanderthal I can be when I'm in uniform. Don't let that air of innocence she portrays fool you. I can guarantee she's bound to earn a swat or 2 while we're away.
Cowboy
She's packed and ready to go. We're sharing a duffel that's loaded with chocolate and Cracker Jacks and Twinkies and very few clothes. Fortunately, my uniforms are in a garment bag. I suspect my credit card will get a good workout; Sar will probably buy anything she needs (and wants) when we get to our destination.
We'll be visiting Navy bases. Half of the base commandants are eager to see the imp; she's a favorite of theirs. The other half are using her visit as an opportunity to test their security. I hope she didn't pack her lock picks.
The animals know she's leaving. They don't seem to mind when I go out of town but when they see her pack chocolate, they know she's leaving and they're not happy about it. When I go out of town, Sar feeds them extra treats like all the meat in the freezer and they'll eat a lot more takeout. Beer and wine consumption goes up too. Sar doesn't drink beer and she isn't much of a wine drinker but I notice my Port and Merlot supplies are diminished when I get home. The Rott is a wine-o.
She spent most of this afternoon on the back deck with all her pups. Our outside Rotts think the sun rises and sets on her and rightly so. We rescued them when they were less than a year old and in bad shape and today they are 2 handsome and healthy and well trained dogs. Both of them continue to charge toward her when they see her but also skid to a stop before bowling her over. The male Rott outweighs her by about 10-15 lbs. and the female Rott has at least 5 lbs. on her. One of my favorite photos of her is one with the big Rott's head resting in her lap.
All 4 dogs, 3 Rotts and the Mastiff lay as close to her as they can get. I stand at the back door and listen to her. She talks to them and they talk back making throat sounds. Rotts can be very cat-like. Ours make a soft growling sound that is a sound of content similar to a cat's purr. We are still fostering the much older bloodhound Archie. He lays at Sar's feet and seems happy to be there.
We have a house/pet sitter that stays here when we're away. Sar will call home every couple of nights to make sure all is ok. The house sitter says the dogs get excited when they hear her voice on the speakerphone. Come to think of it, so do I.
We'll try to update the blog during our travels. Sar is bound to have something to say about where we've been and just how much of a Neanderthal I can be when I'm in uniform. Don't let that air of innocence she portrays fool you. I can guarantee she's bound to earn a swat or 2 while we're away.
Cowboy
Sunday, June 11, 2006
Cowpoke
His Holiness had night duty the other night, not something he does often any more but a matter needed his attention and he elected to get it done when things were quieter at the base.
I have occasional bouts of insomnia and sleep even less when he's not at home. I'm used to sleeping with his large paw around me and even though it's annoying to hear him growl in his sleep when I try to get out of bed in the middle of the night, it's one more constant that I'm used to.
So... years ago I made a giant squid clone to take to bed with me. It slept with me every time Cowboy went off to sea and sleeps with me whenever the squid is on night duty.
I think he's jealous.
Cowboy's clone is a soft-cloth doll, almost 5 feet tall and when I presented him to Cowboy as a Christmas present eons ago, he thought it was cute. He didn't expect me to sleep with it.
Usually the clone is dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, loafers without socks and underneath, it's wearing boxers. Did I mention when I made him... I made him anatomically correct?
Mama mia!
When he... er... it sleeps with me, it's only wearing boxers. I call him Cowpoke. I snuggle back into its chest, put its arms around me and I sleep better.
So... Cowboy comes home after night duty - about 6 a.m. and there I am in bed with his clone.
Tsk.
To say he wasn't thrilled to see me in bed with another... even though that "other" was him... is an understatement. Poor Cowpoke. He... er... it was violently thrown across the room, hit the wall, slid to the floor and ended up all twisted, arms and legs and private parts - peeking out from under the boxers - tsk and double tsk.
The pups, hearing the commotion, rushed into the room and dragged poor Cowpoke out by the neck.
"KILL!" Cowboy yells.
Tsk.
Cowpoke has had a most unorthodox autopsy.
"Now who am I going to sleep with?" I asked.
"Me!" the Neanderthal announced and gave me a SWAT!
"What was that for?"
"You looked like you were enjoying yourself too much. I don't want you sleeping with that thing any more!"
I can barely type. I'm giggling so much. The giant squid is jealous of his clone. I'll just have to make another one I guess.
SWAT
Double tsk.
~Sar~
I have occasional bouts of insomnia and sleep even less when he's not at home. I'm used to sleeping with his large paw around me and even though it's annoying to hear him growl in his sleep when I try to get out of bed in the middle of the night, it's one more constant that I'm used to.
So... years ago I made a giant squid clone to take to bed with me. It slept with me every time Cowboy went off to sea and sleeps with me whenever the squid is on night duty.
I think he's jealous.
Cowboy's clone is a soft-cloth doll, almost 5 feet tall and when I presented him to Cowboy as a Christmas present eons ago, he thought it was cute. He didn't expect me to sleep with it.
Usually the clone is dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, loafers without socks and underneath, it's wearing boxers. Did I mention when I made him... I made him anatomically correct?
Mama mia!
When he... er... it sleeps with me, it's only wearing boxers. I call him Cowpoke. I snuggle back into its chest, put its arms around me and I sleep better.
So... Cowboy comes home after night duty - about 6 a.m. and there I am in bed with his clone.
Tsk.
To say he wasn't thrilled to see me in bed with another... even though that "other" was him... is an understatement. Poor Cowpoke. He... er... it was violently thrown across the room, hit the wall, slid to the floor and ended up all twisted, arms and legs and private parts - peeking out from under the boxers - tsk and double tsk.
The pups, hearing the commotion, rushed into the room and dragged poor Cowpoke out by the neck.
"KILL!" Cowboy yells.
Tsk.
Cowpoke has had a most unorthodox autopsy.
"Now who am I going to sleep with?" I asked.
"Me!" the Neanderthal announced and gave me a SWAT!
"What was that for?"
"You looked like you were enjoying yourself too much. I don't want you sleeping with that thing any more!"
I can barely type. I'm giggling so much. The giant squid is jealous of his clone. I'll just have to make another one I guess.
SWAT
Double tsk.
~Sar~
Sunday, June 04, 2006
Happy Birthday Time!
The giant squid had a birthday a few days ago. I think all year long, he lives in fear of what I might do to help him celebrate.
Big wuss.
As usual, he told me not to make a fuss. He wanted a quiet dinner, peach cobbler for dessert and no gag gifts. He said he was getting older and a quiet celebration was just fine.
"Uh huh."
"I mean it, Sar. Nothing overboard."
So I made sure we had a lovely dinner, peach cobbler for dessert and no gag gifts on his birthday.
However...
The night before...
We had a slam dunk of a party! It was GREAT! I invited a bunch of friends, had a LOT of gag gifts and more peach cobbler and streamers and whoopee cushions. There was also a piñata filled with taffy (and condoms... These are sailors and marines - don't ask, don't tell, don't even think about it) and a male stripper jumped out of a cake and the other ladies and I enjoyed e-v-e-r-y second of that act.
Cowboy was speechless! Naturally I took a picture of that "rarer than Haley's Comet" moment.
Once everyone had calmed down, the stripper had left, and the cake was being consumed, I set up an ancient 8MM film projector. Everybody teased me about the old technology but were in stitches when I showed film of the former Seal-currently Admiral as a boy... washing a car, flirting with the camera as he tried to make hoops, wrestling with David in the backyard of his childhood home. There were also a few shots of him at a very early age - his mama wiping his face with a wet cloth because he had marinara sauce EVERYWHERE.
LOL! He was really a good sport about the whole thing. Of course, I kept a BIG distance between us until I was sure he was a little tipsy from all the wine he consumed. I also managed to stand behind one of his larger-than-life friends when I noticed "that look" when his gaze found me.
Happy Birthday cake and ice cream and presents were all wonderful. He enjoyed it in spite of all the naughty stuff but what's a birthday party without pony rides? Dutifully, everyone followed me out to the back deck and Lo! and behold! A beautiful pony was in our backyard, saddled and ready for us. The pony's owner took one look at Cowboy and said he was too big to ride that sweet creature so naturally, I got to ride it instead. I think Cowboy was relieved. It would have looked funny if he got in the saddle and his feet touched the ground. Tsk. It would have made a great picture.
All the ladies got a ride and while we were taking turns, the birthday boy assured me I would be getting "his" birthday spanking later that evening... Hmm... This was worrisome because the giant squid is so o-l-d, he probably wouldn't be able to count that high and keep the numbers straight. I thought about making flash cards.
When everyone finally left for the evening and he was reaching a Pop-Eye arm out to grab me, I reminded him that his birthday wasn't until the next day so spanking me would be premature.
He said he needed the practice.
Oy!
Lots of hugging and kissing and far too many swats later, the band played on. Later, when we were cuddling and enjoying that sweet time before sleep took over, I noticed my pups were sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed watching us.
Uh-oh! The pups are always locked out of the bedroom when Cowboy is home. I swear... both the Mastiff and the Rott looked like they were desperate for a cigarette.
Tsk.
~Sar~
Big wuss.
As usual, he told me not to make a fuss. He wanted a quiet dinner, peach cobbler for dessert and no gag gifts. He said he was getting older and a quiet celebration was just fine.
"Uh huh."
"I mean it, Sar. Nothing overboard."
So I made sure we had a lovely dinner, peach cobbler for dessert and no gag gifts on his birthday.
However...
The night before...
We had a slam dunk of a party! It was GREAT! I invited a bunch of friends, had a LOT of gag gifts and more peach cobbler and streamers and whoopee cushions. There was also a piñata filled with taffy (and condoms... These are sailors and marines - don't ask, don't tell, don't even think about it) and a male stripper jumped out of a cake and the other ladies and I enjoyed e-v-e-r-y second of that act.
Cowboy was speechless! Naturally I took a picture of that "rarer than Haley's Comet" moment.
Once everyone had calmed down, the stripper had left, and the cake was being consumed, I set up an ancient 8MM film projector. Everybody teased me about the old technology but were in stitches when I showed film of the former Seal-currently Admiral as a boy... washing a car, flirting with the camera as he tried to make hoops, wrestling with David in the backyard of his childhood home. There were also a few shots of him at a very early age - his mama wiping his face with a wet cloth because he had marinara sauce EVERYWHERE.
LOL! He was really a good sport about the whole thing. Of course, I kept a BIG distance between us until I was sure he was a little tipsy from all the wine he consumed. I also managed to stand behind one of his larger-than-life friends when I noticed "that look" when his gaze found me.
Happy Birthday cake and ice cream and presents were all wonderful. He enjoyed it in spite of all the naughty stuff but what's a birthday party without pony rides? Dutifully, everyone followed me out to the back deck and Lo! and behold! A beautiful pony was in our backyard, saddled and ready for us. The pony's owner took one look at Cowboy and said he was too big to ride that sweet creature so naturally, I got to ride it instead. I think Cowboy was relieved. It would have looked funny if he got in the saddle and his feet touched the ground. Tsk. It would have made a great picture.
All the ladies got a ride and while we were taking turns, the birthday boy assured me I would be getting "his" birthday spanking later that evening... Hmm... This was worrisome because the giant squid is so o-l-d, he probably wouldn't be able to count that high and keep the numbers straight. I thought about making flash cards.
When everyone finally left for the evening and he was reaching a Pop-Eye arm out to grab me, I reminded him that his birthday wasn't until the next day so spanking me would be premature.
He said he needed the practice.
Oy!
Lots of hugging and kissing and far too many swats later, the band played on. Later, when we were cuddling and enjoying that sweet time before sleep took over, I noticed my pups were sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed watching us.
Uh-oh! The pups are always locked out of the bedroom when Cowboy is home. I swear... both the Mastiff and the Rott looked like they were desperate for a cigarette.
Tsk.
~Sar~
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