Spring Stuff

Cowboy here. Sar's living in the fast lane again, something she tends to do on a regular basis unless I have a hold of her. I don't know what it is about spring but my wife is energized and all of us are affected.

She's cleaning. Folks-- we have animals in the house - 2 dogs, 2 cats - the other dogs are rarely in the house. Sar cleans some part of the house every day. I bought a robot vacuum for the upstairs. I hired a service to wash the windows and screens. The rugs are professionally cleaned several times a year; she still cleans something every day. Spring cleaning is not necessary.

When I threatened to warm that cute little butt if she didn't slow down, she went from cleaning to cleaning out. All the closets and bureaus have had their inventories cut, reorganized and some sweet smelling thing was added to most of them. I double checked to make sure she didn't put that thing in my things.

I have lost old and favorite shirts, sweats, socks as well as a few belts. I have lost favorite running shoes, ties and sweaters. I have put a double lock - electronic dead bolts - on my office door in case she gets some crazy idea about the old pistols and shotguns in my collection. I have posted *don't touch* signs on my tool chests.

My wife has brass. You knew that. After all was packed for the giveaway - her things included - she told me to drop everything off at a family shelter. I didn't want to lose those things; now I have to deliver them too. I sorted through the boxes, pulled a few things out that I don't plan to donate at this time. When Sar saw what I did, she stood on a chair - to be taller than me - and lectured. Did a decent impression of one of my old drill instructors too.

Yeah, I laughed. Applied a few swats. Hugged the stuffin out of her. Then put those things back where they belonged - in my closet etc.

Cleaning the house gave way to cooking and baking again. There's various soups, her famous apple cakes, a variety of cookies, brownies, tarts, several Italian dishes - braciole, lasagna, osa buca, pastas. Unfortunately peach cobbler isn't on the menu yet.

The dogs are getting nervous. The yard and kennels are next.

She's had long days at the university, teaching seminars on the textile arts. I know she enjoys these but a lot of energy is expended doing this and they wear her out. I won't let her drive there any more - I chauffeur her back and forth because Sar is generally asleep on the way home.

Today she is reorganizing her studio; there are vast quantities of materials - fabrics, fibers, threads - in the upstairs hallway, on the landing, and in the guestroom. The cats are happy about this, inspecting everything and napping in various places. The dogs have sniffed, sneezed and claimed several piles as their own. At one point I couldn't find Sar, then spotted her asleep in the middle of the chaos. Was tempted to lay down beside her and let nature take its course but knew I couldn't get rid of the curious dogs if I did that.

For those who have emailed to ask about new stories, Sar is writing a bit. She writes when she can. When she reads it over a lot of it is deleted or edited down to a few sentences. It will probably be another month or so - when the world has been Lysol-ed, polished, and reorganized before she can concentrate on new characters and plots. I may have to tie her to the bed to make her slow down. (Bed tying is another subject I won't get into at this time.)

Cinco de Mayo (5th of May) is coming up. When we lived in Miami it was a city-wide celebration - festivals, parades and good eating. Sar loves holidays and holiday food and invited a bunch of folks for Spanish bean soup, aroz con pollo (chicken & yellow rice,) paella (yellow rice, chicken, shrimp, clams,) media noche (Cuban sandwiches,) moros (black beans & rice) and platinos (fried plaintains.) All delicious foods that will be spread over a 3-day weekend. Spanish style desserts are also on the menu. I forgot to mention May 1 is *dance around the May pole day* which is also "blini day" in our house - blintzes + strawberries and cream. Dancing + eating = a very excited imp.

The downside to the preparations is that Sar is a little more tired than usual. But, in addition to the good food and holiday company, the upside is that Sar sleeps better. For someone who has chronic insomnia, this is good. I'm known as Mr. Worry Wart which is part of my job. I take that job seriously. So against her wishes, I'll take my wife in for a thorough checkup in a few weeks. Having been there, done that on several occasions, I plan to stay in the exam room to make sure Sar gets the necessary tests and that the medics don't get too many cuts and bruises. It's a duck shoot no matter how you look at it.

We're fostering a Neapolitan Mastiff pup. The animal's about the size of a Shetland pony and gaining weight every day. It eats anything and everything. It's starting to obey Sar, ignores everyone else. Does that remind you of someone? It drools on the cats so it's not all bad.

Cowboy

Triskadeckaphobia!

It's Friday the 13th! One of my very favorite days. I don't really understand the fear of the 13th day of the month when it falls on a Friday. Fridays are Fridays and 13ths are 13ths. If some ill wind is blowing, it's blowing. Wing it if you can and if not, don't walk under ladders, cuddle with black cats but do throw salt over your shoulder if it makes you feel better.

I like to dance naked under the moon - full or otherwise - on the 13th. Scares the beejeebees out of nosy neighbors. "There's that witch, dancing again!"

Actually, only one neighbor can see me - our property is fenced - and he's trying to get a peek through binoculars from his 2nd story bedroom window. He's also pushing 98 so if this makes him happy, so be it.

"You're gonna give that man a heart attack!" the giant squid says when he tries to catch me dancing naked in the backyard.

"But he'll die happy," I laugh.

"You're not gonna be happy when I catch you and toast your tush!"

"You gotta catch me first, squid!"

We go back and forth like this while he stalks me and I dance away. Sometimes he tackles me early on and a serious tickling session ensues but he doesn't want me lying on the wet grass so usually we go in the house right away. If I can elude him for a while, he gets "sealy" and makes unpleasant threats.

Unfortunately, those threats usually spur my vocabulary... I cast doubts about his ability to hold his own with Army grunts, Air Force flyboys and those muscle boy Marines. He ignores the remarks about grunts and flyboys - that just makes him roll his eyes. But Marines... that's a challenge and he's ready to take any of them on. His pride is at stake.

And let's face it... the giant squid's pride is healthier than his ego and his ego is bigger than Detroit... Minneapolis/St. Paul, Chicago and...

"When I get my hands on you..."

Uh huh. As if I'm a marine. Tsk.

Moving right along...

We had a joyous spring holiday. Passover was wunderbar! And Easter was great fun. You understand that the religious significance is not as important to me as the FOOD and enjoying the company at my table. To each their own.

Contrary to what the squid posted in his ramblings about our celebrations, I did NOT steal any chocolate bunny ears. I simply said thank you when several... okay, a couple dozen or more... were offered. As for the jellybeans, I plead the 5th.

"Did you steal jellybeans from the kids' baskets?"

"Moi?"

SWAT!

Tsk.

"You're not supposed to take candy from children, Sar."

"But... it's so easy!"

SWAT!

Tsk.

"She took mine, too!" David, the marine complains. (Most of his lady bimbo friends gave him an Easter basket.

"Another easy mark," I smirk.

SWAT!

Tsk.

"Wouldn't you be disappointed if I didn't take them? You wouldn't have an excuse to swat me."

"Don't need an excuse, bambina."

SWAT!

Double tsk.

So... for a Friday the 13th breakfast for me and the pups, I made a glorious meal of pancakes, bacon, and strawberry milkshakes. Both Cowboy and David knew better than to expect me to make their breakfast.

We're headed home tomorrow. It's been about nine weeks since we left and I'm anxious to see friends and spend time in my garden. I fully intend to dance naked in the moonlight as soon as possible. My elderly neighbor isn't getting any younger and it's my sworn duty to make sure he's a happy peeper.

Did I tell you I got a new foster pup? Just one - he's a giant of a pup and still hasn't figured out how to place his big clumsy paws in the right place. He's a Neapolitan Mastiff - a real beauty, about 9 months old. His people gave him to the animal rescue society because they claim they didn't know he would grow to be the size of a pony. He's pushing 160 lbs. and has a ways to go. I'm giving serious thought to buying a saddle for him. His name was "Dawg." Tsk. I've renamed him Hadrian - an ancient Roman name - and the birthplace of his breed. His favorite activities are eating and sleeping - ergo! The cats adore him.

A group of friends sent one of those email surveys. It was a fun survey and one of the questions was: Did you ever milk a cow?

Yes, I did but as I told my friends, the cow wasn't very happy about it. It kept turning its head and muttering ugly words in my direction. I told Cowboy I must have pinched something wrong. On the other hand, it might have been one of those boy cows and this city girl shouldn't have been pinching anything. A similar thing happened when I tried to milk a goat. Needless to say the Neanderthal I live with continues to tease me about this.

Just for that... I'm stripping and going out to the backyard to dance!

~Sar~