... the walrus said... to speak of other things.
Jeez Louise! On the one hand I love having the giant squid home. He cooks, orders take-out, cuddles and when he has work to do, settles me on the futon in my studio so my babies can get close enough for kissing. SweetPea and BullyBoy and I fit perfectly on the futon although BullyBoy's tail occasionally whacks the beejeebees out of SweetPea's hip which, in turn, makes the Rott mutter ugly words in his direction. This makes the giant Mastiff whimper which is just an act to get more attention. The old bloodhound sleeps on the rug and snores through the whole thing.
On the other hand, the giant squid is a bossy sort and more so when I'm not 100%. He still barks orders which I continue to ignore which tries his patience. Ha! You didn't know he had any! If he gets loud, BullyBoy stands on his hind legs and breathes lethal fumes in his face. Beer breath + doggie breath = near death. Even Navy Seals shudder at that combination. I use a lot of Binaca on that dog. Hmmm... maybe I should change the brand of beer he drinks.
So... the dominant cat in our house jumps on the futon and swats the Rott in the puss so the dog will make room for hefty 20-lb. cat. Rott says ugly word - cat hisses and spits - BullyBoy shoves both of them off the futon and I decide I'm feeling terrific and get dressed to go outside.
"Where do you think you're going, imp?" the direct descendant of Genghis Khan wants to know.
Egads! He's got eyes in the back of his head.
"I need some fresh air."
"You're gonna get some on your tush if you're not back in bed in the next five minutes, babe."
A moment of silence here as I try to come up with a witty retort.
"I've been house bound since forever," I announce, "and I'm about to climb the walls."
This is definitely not my wittiest retort.
"Three days is not forever," the anal retentive Neanderthal states. "Another day or two and you'll be much better and then you can go out."
This is supposed to make me feel better?
"Okey-dokey," I say agreeably and make a beeline for the back deck where my two outside Rotts are waiting. From there it's only a short run to the kennels where the foster pups can be released. I can play with them in the yard and the stodgy wanna-be medic in my house can simmer for a while. I know this because the phone rang - the line in his office - and that could take a while.
Oh JOY!
All the dogs get hugs and kisses and we play hide & seek and "catch me" in and around all the evergreens. Great fun and lots of tail wagging!
Until...
My tail... is suddenly way higher than it should be... over the giant squid's shoulder.
"Gotcha!"
Tsk!
Okay - short lived fun but worth it.
I know my face is a little flushed and my nose is cold but I have a feeling I'm gonna get warmed up soon. Not sure if I should be happy about this.
"What did I tell you?" he says as he meanders back to the house with ten dogs trailing us.
"You said something?" I ask in all innocence.
SWAT!
Tsk!
"You're going back to bed, imp."
Hooooo Boy! This is news!
SWAT!
Tsk!
"You going with me?" I'm ever hopeful.
"Looks like I'm gonna have to," he says so sternly I have to laugh.
SWAT!
Tsk!
"Gonna warm you up all over," he promises.
"I can live with that but I hope chocolate Twinkies are also on the menu."
SWAT!
Double Tsk!
And let's not forget... I'm an absolute saint!
~Sar~
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Imp Strikes Again!
Cowboy here again. The imp traded one flu bug for a different one and finally admitted she was feeling poorly. Right now she's in her studio surrounded by pets and sketching something for a lady that wants one of her art pieces.
She got rid of that intestinal bug, lived life in double time for a few days, then got snagged by respiratory congestion. It's her own fault. We had more snow than we're supposed to get out this way. Our neighborhood was deep in the stuff. Sar can't resist snow. Don't know why but that's how it is. As soon as the imp got out of the house she started making snowmen. Not 1 or 2 but a whole damned village!
The most respectable one was leaning against a tree holding a book in its hands - twigs actually. One female snow person - slim - well endowed - on its hands and knees - a damn snow dog sniffing its hind end. I kicked that one down the minute I saw it. Nosy neighbor across the road probably had a stroke. Two small snowmen were "peeing" on each other. Sar stuck hose nozzles in their crotches. Kicked that one down too. Maybe it's the meds I made her take - don't know how she comes by these ideas. She built a snow fort - a "cowboy" snowman bent over the top - a snow arrow in its back and a flag that read "remember the Alamo." I do not know this woman.
The neighborhood kids love my wife. Their parents are as happy as I am when the snow melts. I'm waiting to get a letter from the neighborhood homeowners association reminding us about some code that includes lewd snow people displays.
She taught 9-year old Patrick how to zap a snowball using a slingshot. They both bombarded me when I got home from work. I went after the imp when a snowball hit me in the face but before I could reach her, Patrick's snowball hit my chest. It could have been worse. Once she had the dogs jump me in the snow. As soon as I was down with 300 pounds of fur on my chest, she stuffed snow down my pants.
I waited till Patrick went home, then I got her warmed up the old fashioned way - shower, swats, some genuine lovin.
Up early the next morning. Heard the imp sneezing, grabbed the cough syrup I keep hidden so it doesn't get dumped down the sink, sneaked up behind her while she was recovering from a sneezing session and got some meds down her throat. Between the sneezing and the meds she got sleepy right away. Made her some breakfast and put her back in bed.
Sar's threatened to write a story about my ill-spent youth and post it for all to see. As long as she doesn't post pictures I can handle it.
Cowboy
She got rid of that intestinal bug, lived life in double time for a few days, then got snagged by respiratory congestion. It's her own fault. We had more snow than we're supposed to get out this way. Our neighborhood was deep in the stuff. Sar can't resist snow. Don't know why but that's how it is. As soon as the imp got out of the house she started making snowmen. Not 1 or 2 but a whole damned village!
The most respectable one was leaning against a tree holding a book in its hands - twigs actually. One female snow person - slim - well endowed - on its hands and knees - a damn snow dog sniffing its hind end. I kicked that one down the minute I saw it. Nosy neighbor across the road probably had a stroke. Two small snowmen were "peeing" on each other. Sar stuck hose nozzles in their crotches. Kicked that one down too. Maybe it's the meds I made her take - don't know how she comes by these ideas. She built a snow fort - a "cowboy" snowman bent over the top - a snow arrow in its back and a flag that read "remember the Alamo." I do not know this woman.
The neighborhood kids love my wife. Their parents are as happy as I am when the snow melts. I'm waiting to get a letter from the neighborhood homeowners association reminding us about some code that includes lewd snow people displays.
She taught 9-year old Patrick how to zap a snowball using a slingshot. They both bombarded me when I got home from work. I went after the imp when a snowball hit me in the face but before I could reach her, Patrick's snowball hit my chest. It could have been worse. Once she had the dogs jump me in the snow. As soon as I was down with 300 pounds of fur on my chest, she stuffed snow down my pants.
I waited till Patrick went home, then I got her warmed up the old fashioned way - shower, swats, some genuine lovin.
Up early the next morning. Heard the imp sneezing, grabbed the cough syrup I keep hidden so it doesn't get dumped down the sink, sneaked up behind her while she was recovering from a sneezing session and got some meds down her throat. Between the sneezing and the meds she got sleepy right away. Made her some breakfast and put her back in bed.
Sar's threatened to write a story about my ill-spent youth and post it for all to see. As long as she doesn't post pictures I can handle it.
Cowboy
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Combat Pay
Cowboy here. Sar is sleeping off the meds I shoved down her throat. I know what you're thinking - Neanderthal.
Had to be out of town for a few days. During that time the imp got one of those flu bugs that drain your energy - upset stomach, a bit of coughing and sneezing and a bit of fever. She was just getting the flu when I had to leave. Called our friend David to come over to check up on her and he decided to stay a few days. I think it was the freezer filled with food he likes that clinched the deal.
I might be a Neanderthal but David is a marine and doesn't take any gruff - except from Sar. Let me explain it like this:
Sar feeling 100% = a sweet loving woman with a high energy level and one that embraces the world.
Sar feeling slightly under the weather = a few sniffles, a little less energy, takeout for supper, and an ingestion of a lot of hot cocoa.
Sar feeling ill and knows it = super sensitive about her health, cuddles with her pups, ignores me, avoids me, and threatens dire consequences if touched, babied, pampered, or God forbid, medicated. (This does not deter me but that's another story.)
Sar ill and not honing up to it = a loaded AK47 in one hand and a live grenade in the other. She doesn't talk - she snarls. If her wishes are defied-- she sets the dogs on you and walks out of the room. Her dogs are big. Her dogs bite.
I figure the marine has seen combat. He can handle her.
I call every day to get the damage report. So far the marine has all his limbs but a growing number of bruises. He's cussing a lot. I tell him he's a brave man. He tells me Sar would behave if I'd let him spank her. I tell him I know my wife and having a death wish is not a good thing. If Sar doesn't do him in I will.
He's feeding her chicken noodle soup and Boston cream pie. I don't know if this will make her better but she's not complaining about it. She's making him bring the foster dogs into the house 1 at a time so she can spend time with them. He suspects they are eating the soup when he isn't looking.
I get home and can tell the imp has a fever. I don't ask. I don't argue. I tackle her, lock her arms between us, hook a leg around both of hers and shove coated aspirin down her throat along with an Rx she has for intestinal discomfort. She spits, hisses, and yells every ugly word she knows-- most of which are variations of camel dung and armpit spawn. Then she falls asleep.
Asleep, she looks like an angel.
I'll make linguini for her tonight - a little butter and cheese and some personal attention and she'll be back to mischief in no time. David says I should take her to task for beating him up when he was trying to nurse her. I tell the marine he deserves combat pay and is damned lucky to be alive with all his parts attached.
Cowboy
Had to be out of town for a few days. During that time the imp got one of those flu bugs that drain your energy - upset stomach, a bit of coughing and sneezing and a bit of fever. She was just getting the flu when I had to leave. Called our friend David to come over to check up on her and he decided to stay a few days. I think it was the freezer filled with food he likes that clinched the deal.
I might be a Neanderthal but David is a marine and doesn't take any gruff - except from Sar. Let me explain it like this:
Sar feeling 100% = a sweet loving woman with a high energy level and one that embraces the world.
Sar feeling slightly under the weather = a few sniffles, a little less energy, takeout for supper, and an ingestion of a lot of hot cocoa.
Sar feeling ill and knows it = super sensitive about her health, cuddles with her pups, ignores me, avoids me, and threatens dire consequences if touched, babied, pampered, or God forbid, medicated. (This does not deter me but that's another story.)
Sar ill and not honing up to it = a loaded AK47 in one hand and a live grenade in the other. She doesn't talk - she snarls. If her wishes are defied-- she sets the dogs on you and walks out of the room. Her dogs are big. Her dogs bite.
I figure the marine has seen combat. He can handle her.
I call every day to get the damage report. So far the marine has all his limbs but a growing number of bruises. He's cussing a lot. I tell him he's a brave man. He tells me Sar would behave if I'd let him spank her. I tell him I know my wife and having a death wish is not a good thing. If Sar doesn't do him in I will.
He's feeding her chicken noodle soup and Boston cream pie. I don't know if this will make her better but she's not complaining about it. She's making him bring the foster dogs into the house 1 at a time so she can spend time with them. He suspects they are eating the soup when he isn't looking.
I get home and can tell the imp has a fever. I don't ask. I don't argue. I tackle her, lock her arms between us, hook a leg around both of hers and shove coated aspirin down her throat along with an Rx she has for intestinal discomfort. She spits, hisses, and yells every ugly word she knows-- most of which are variations of camel dung and armpit spawn. Then she falls asleep.
Asleep, she looks like an angel.
I'll make linguini for her tonight - a little butter and cheese and some personal attention and she'll be back to mischief in no time. David says I should take her to task for beating him up when he was trying to nurse her. I tell the marine he deserves combat pay and is damned lucky to be alive with all his parts attached.
Cowboy
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Brand New Year!
Happy happy and sincere wishes for good things in the coming year! I have resolved to eat more chocolate, finish writing my upteen unfinished stories and get into new and more creative mischief.
However... I ended 2006 with a fabulous RUN AMOK week!
Cowboy banned water guns from the house a few years back when I had an unfortunate incident with the base commandant... Briefly... I was aiming for the giant squid but he happened to move just as I fired my gun. Tragically... the base commandant was standing behind Cowboy and I hit him instead. 'Twas a very sad but hilarious scene and I still haven't lived it down.
Santa brought me a super duper sized water gun. I suspect it was really David, who couldn't care less about a NAVY base commandant - since he's a marine - but this way, he denies all guilt.
Oh JOY!
Naturally I couldn't wait to try it out. I filled it with ICE water and... red finger paint... and shook it till it had the texture of loose jello and was gooey and then I aimed.
I shot Mr. Snowman... aimed for his belly but hit him a little lower... that was not pretty. The neighborhood kids ran around saying I had killed the snow people. Desperate to live up to my new reputation, I jogged around the neighborhood and shot a LOT of snow people.
Someone called the police... They came out and surveyed my handiwork and when they stopped laughing long enough to pick themselves up off the ground, asked if I had ever used a Taser gun...
"YOU ARE NOT GETTING A TASER!" you-know-who roared.
Crumb.
Later, the outside Rotts and I played war photojournalists... The large dogs stalked anyone who came into the backyard and when the "enemy" was pinned to the ground, I came in and shot them - first with my water gun, then with my camera. Wonderful ammunition to have on hand if an occasion for bribery arises. In my life, that's often. We had a lot of snow so the ground was bleeding red. It was quite wonderful.
"I didn't know you had such a cruel streak, bambina," the giant squid grumbled as he tried to wipe red jello goop off his sweats.
"Ha! You didn't know me when I was a kid."
"Terror of the neighborhood, huh?"
"Tsk. I was one of the shorter ones in my crowd. No one ever suspected me."
"Give me that water gun before you do serious damage," he said in such a calm voice...
"Oh sure, right away." I was prepared for this encounter. I grabbed my gallon container of red goop and ice water and got up a tree while my big Rotts kept the giant squid preoccupied. They loved this game, tackling the "alpha" male in the house and tumbling on the ground with him. I continued using him for target practice and the pups kept drowning him in slobber as they licked the jello off his v-a-r-i-o-u-s body parts. I took GREAT pics!
Cowboy made some very ugly noises... tsk. Such language out of an officer and a gentleman. I told him so, too and when he got free of the pups, he ZIPPED up the tree. Never would have thought such an o-l-d man could still do that.
SWAT!
Tsk.
We ended up in the snow with water gun residue and dog slobber all over us and I was laughing and hiccuping and the squid was rubbing goop all over my face. I stuffed snow down his pants and he yelled and the Rotts jumped him and we rolled and I laughed again and threw the water gun away from me and Tank, my big Rott, grabbed it and took it into his kennel and Cowboy wasn't able to confiscate it - yet.
Great fun! But Cowboy plays dirty... so... lady that I am...
"Any chance of cobbler this week, imp?"
"Sure," I agreed and made apple cobbler, blueberry cobbler, pear cobbler, apricot cobbler, and plum cobbler.
"Very tasty," he said and gave me a swat.
Tsk.
"Dare I ask for peach pie?"
"Sure, ask away." And I baked apple pie, cherry pie, blueberry pie, pecan pie, and a Boston Cream pie for David.
Two swats!
Tsk.
"Peaches aren't in season," I told him.
"Pink butts are!"
Jeez. I ran up the stairs... he followed me... etc.
Went to the mall New Year's Eve day - took Cowboy's credit card - found LOTS of things on sale. I only bought the very basic necessities: Chocolate, new shoes, chocolate, new sexy undies, chocolate, new ceramic pie pans from Holland - gorgeous - and I picked up some chocolate.
Some of the Neanderthal's o-l-d buddies dropped in during RUN AMOK week... They wanted to see his gun/rifle collection. When I heard...
"SAR!!" at an extremely loud volume, I knew they had discovered the tiny water pistol I had put in his gun cabinet for safe keeping, also the slingshot... my prize marble shooter, and the yo-yo...
Tsk. Now I may never get that stash of Lindt chocolates I hid behind that big long pistol he got in an auction somewhere on the other side of the world a hundred years ago and one that he thinks is some kind of prize weapon. Tsk. Men and their toys.
Which is more important? Guns or chocolate? Don't bother to answer. I know you know the pecking order.
I gave Ms.HairUpHerAss a big basket of brownies - the good kind. She was so suspicious she refused to eat any and insisted the marines and sailors visiting my house should have them. They ate them with gusto and Ms.HairUpHerAss has a new respect for these fighting men. "They are so brave," she gushed, thinking they could eat my "special" brownies and not feel any ill effects.
Tsk.
"Don't worry," Cowboy grumbled. "If she wants to take them down, they're toast."
Double tsk.
I taught Patrick how to use my water gun. Strike one.
I showed Peeper Patterson how to get a porn site on his computer. Strike two.
I made a tunnel-of-fudge cake and ate the whole thing by myself. Strike three.
I gave Patrick a teeny tiny frog (from the pet store) to take to school for show 'n tell. His teacher is one of those hair-in-a-bun-'n-orthopedic-shoes squeamish types. Strike four.
I sent the base commandant good wishes for the holiday season. He called Cowboy to ask him not to leave me "unattended" on his base. Tsk. Strike five.
I sent the base medical staff homemade bread dough to be baked at their leisure. Apparently, I used a little too much yeast... oops - the dough ROSE and ROSE and ROSE... Strike Six. Tsk. Did they think it was a new age weapon? Scared the beejeebees out of them. Put a HUGE smile on my face, though.
I pinched Cowboy's butt every time I got close enough to do so... in the middle of all the holiday festivities we attended. He can really jump HIGH. ~ sigh ~ Another strike.
"My butt is practically black and blue," he grumbled in the shower one night.
"Well mine gets pink far too often," I grumbled right back.
"We could make it red," he threatened.
"You could eat out for the rest of your life," I intoned.
"As long as you sleep with me," he groaned when I pinched him again.
And yeah... the band played on.
~Sar~
However... I ended 2006 with a fabulous RUN AMOK week!
Cowboy banned water guns from the house a few years back when I had an unfortunate incident with the base commandant... Briefly... I was aiming for the giant squid but he happened to move just as I fired my gun. Tragically... the base commandant was standing behind Cowboy and I hit him instead. 'Twas a very sad but hilarious scene and I still haven't lived it down.
Santa brought me a super duper sized water gun. I suspect it was really David, who couldn't care less about a NAVY base commandant - since he's a marine - but this way, he denies all guilt.
Oh JOY!
Naturally I couldn't wait to try it out. I filled it with ICE water and... red finger paint... and shook it till it had the texture of loose jello and was gooey and then I aimed.
I shot Mr. Snowman... aimed for his belly but hit him a little lower... that was not pretty. The neighborhood kids ran around saying I had killed the snow people. Desperate to live up to my new reputation, I jogged around the neighborhood and shot a LOT of snow people.
Someone called the police... They came out and surveyed my handiwork and when they stopped laughing long enough to pick themselves up off the ground, asked if I had ever used a Taser gun...
"YOU ARE NOT GETTING A TASER!" you-know-who roared.
Crumb.
Later, the outside Rotts and I played war photojournalists... The large dogs stalked anyone who came into the backyard and when the "enemy" was pinned to the ground, I came in and shot them - first with my water gun, then with my camera. Wonderful ammunition to have on hand if an occasion for bribery arises. In my life, that's often. We had a lot of snow so the ground was bleeding red. It was quite wonderful.
"I didn't know you had such a cruel streak, bambina," the giant squid grumbled as he tried to wipe red jello goop off his sweats.
"Ha! You didn't know me when I was a kid."
"Terror of the neighborhood, huh?"
"Tsk. I was one of the shorter ones in my crowd. No one ever suspected me."
"Give me that water gun before you do serious damage," he said in such a calm voice...
"Oh sure, right away." I was prepared for this encounter. I grabbed my gallon container of red goop and ice water and got up a tree while my big Rotts kept the giant squid preoccupied. They loved this game, tackling the "alpha" male in the house and tumbling on the ground with him. I continued using him for target practice and the pups kept drowning him in slobber as they licked the jello off his v-a-r-i-o-u-s body parts. I took GREAT pics!
Cowboy made some very ugly noises... tsk. Such language out of an officer and a gentleman. I told him so, too and when he got free of the pups, he ZIPPED up the tree. Never would have thought such an o-l-d man could still do that.
SWAT!
Tsk.
We ended up in the snow with water gun residue and dog slobber all over us and I was laughing and hiccuping and the squid was rubbing goop all over my face. I stuffed snow down his pants and he yelled and the Rotts jumped him and we rolled and I laughed again and threw the water gun away from me and Tank, my big Rott, grabbed it and took it into his kennel and Cowboy wasn't able to confiscate it - yet.
Great fun! But Cowboy plays dirty... so... lady that I am...
"Any chance of cobbler this week, imp?"
"Sure," I agreed and made apple cobbler, blueberry cobbler, pear cobbler, apricot cobbler, and plum cobbler.
"Very tasty," he said and gave me a swat.
Tsk.
"Dare I ask for peach pie?"
"Sure, ask away." And I baked apple pie, cherry pie, blueberry pie, pecan pie, and a Boston Cream pie for David.
Two swats!
Tsk.
"Peaches aren't in season," I told him.
"Pink butts are!"
Jeez. I ran up the stairs... he followed me... etc.
Went to the mall New Year's Eve day - took Cowboy's credit card - found LOTS of things on sale. I only bought the very basic necessities: Chocolate, new shoes, chocolate, new sexy undies, chocolate, new ceramic pie pans from Holland - gorgeous - and I picked up some chocolate.
Some of the Neanderthal's o-l-d buddies dropped in during RUN AMOK week... They wanted to see his gun/rifle collection. When I heard...
"SAR!!" at an extremely loud volume, I knew they had discovered the tiny water pistol I had put in his gun cabinet for safe keeping, also the slingshot... my prize marble shooter, and the yo-yo...
Tsk. Now I may never get that stash of Lindt chocolates I hid behind that big long pistol he got in an auction somewhere on the other side of the world a hundred years ago and one that he thinks is some kind of prize weapon. Tsk. Men and their toys.
Which is more important? Guns or chocolate? Don't bother to answer. I know you know the pecking order.
I gave Ms.HairUpHerAss a big basket of brownies - the good kind. She was so suspicious she refused to eat any and insisted the marines and sailors visiting my house should have them. They ate them with gusto and Ms.HairUpHerAss has a new respect for these fighting men. "They are so brave," she gushed, thinking they could eat my "special" brownies and not feel any ill effects.
Tsk.
"Don't worry," Cowboy grumbled. "If she wants to take them down, they're toast."
Double tsk.
I taught Patrick how to use my water gun. Strike one.
I showed Peeper Patterson how to get a porn site on his computer. Strike two.
I made a tunnel-of-fudge cake and ate the whole thing by myself. Strike three.
I gave Patrick a teeny tiny frog (from the pet store) to take to school for show 'n tell. His teacher is one of those hair-in-a-bun-'n-orthopedic-shoes squeamish types. Strike four.
I sent the base commandant good wishes for the holiday season. He called Cowboy to ask him not to leave me "unattended" on his base. Tsk. Strike five.
I sent the base medical staff homemade bread dough to be baked at their leisure. Apparently, I used a little too much yeast... oops - the dough ROSE and ROSE and ROSE... Strike Six. Tsk. Did they think it was a new age weapon? Scared the beejeebees out of them. Put a HUGE smile on my face, though.
I pinched Cowboy's butt every time I got close enough to do so... in the middle of all the holiday festivities we attended. He can really jump HIGH. ~ sigh ~ Another strike.
"My butt is practically black and blue," he grumbled in the shower one night.
"Well mine gets pink far too often," I grumbled right back.
"We could make it red," he threatened.
"You could eat out for the rest of your life," I intoned.
"As long as you sleep with me," he groaned when I pinched him again.
And yeah... the band played on.
~Sar~
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