Thanksgiving was absolutely stupendous! A number of old friends flew in from Chicago to stay with us. Our house was wall-to-wall company and I was reminded why most of our sofas are also pull-out beds. Between those and some sleeping bags, we managed to sleep 15 of us. We even had a "pup" tent in the living room for 8-year old Patrick, a special young friend of ours.
Feeding that many people for 5 days wasn't as horrendous as I thought it might be. I had cooked and baked a lot before they got there and everyone pitched in. Cleaning up after that crowd was an absolute snap. First, I used paper plates whenever it wouldn't look like we wouldn't be considered couthless; then the pups did a "pre-wash" before I tossed dishes into the dishwasher. Err... actually "tossed" a few dishes... Now I have to find that online china shop that carries old dish patterns from the dark ages (when His Holiness was a boy) so I can replace them. Groan... mumble... whine... complain.
On the up side, there were lots of chocolates and pies and cakes and sweet crepes and other goodies. On the down side, some of these people actually EAT green vegetables! I know, I know. Shocked me, too. At first, I was momentarily stunned; later, I just pretended I was having a Halloween moment every time someone waved a piece of broccoli in my direction. (Some guests truly lack couth.) Cowboy suggested (in front of EVERYBODY) that I have a serving of green things...
I'm not crazy about green beans, which my neighbor brought over. "Green bean casserole is traditional for Thanksgiving, Sar," she smiled sweetly as she handed it over.
"Good Lord!" I exclaimed, appalled that the little green devils might crawl out of the platter and jump on my plate, then caught my husband's arched brow aimed directly at me. Tsk.
"And look!" she pointed. "I also brought green peas and pearl onions so you'd have a variety."
"You are an absolute saint," I smiled at the generous witch... err... lady and pictured Saint Joan de Arc. Didn't she get burned at the stake prior to becoming a saint? One can only hope...
Cowboy strongly suggested I take a bite of a couple of green things. It was a direct order and I didn't want to disappoint him in front of so many guests so I complied. I ate 2 green peas.
We had 20 guests for Thanksgiving dinner and everyone of them ATE like there was no tomorrow. I roasted 4 turkeys and 2 honey baked hams and there weren't any leftovers. I should mention that Bull, the Chrysler Building-sized Marine, was at my table and I roasted turkey # 4 just for him. He ate non-stop most of the day. When I asked him if he wanted mashed potatoes and offered the punch bowl sized serving dish... he took the WHOLE thing! I wonder what it costs the U.S. Marine Corps to feed this guy? On a sweet note: Since returning from Afghanistan, he's slowly mending, both physically and emotionally and it fills my heart to hear him laugh again. Three other marines from Bull's unit joined us for the day and so did my 97-year old neighbor, Peeper Patterson. His daughter is visiting from Kansas and she came along, too. She thinks I'm a bad influence on her father... just because I occasionally dance naked outdoors to celebrate the full moon. Tsk. I wonder if that's why she always makes the sign of the cross before she enters my house... double tsk.
Cowboy and others were responsible for each breakfast and we feasted on his various pancakes and waffle concoctions, all of which were wonderful. Glory made Dim Sum for one of our lunches - swoon - and Vi, who could live in a house without a kitchen - made her infamous hot cocoa and "special tea." Infamous because if you drink too much of either, you'll be 3 sheets to the wind in no time. We made sure the younger guests got real hot cocoa. Max kept a 48-cup coffee urn filled with chicory coffee each day which pleased me no end since I'm addicted to it.
"How much of this coffee have you drunk, imp?" Cowboy asked out of the blue as I refilled my mug for the upteenth time.
"Hmmm..." I hummed. That's a loaded question. I haven't "drunk" any... I just sort of take a few sips here and there. Okay, nonstop sips, but sips nonetheless.
"Well?" he demanded, his grizzly paw... err... excessively large hand at my waist squeezing a little.
Tsk.
"She be thinkin," Max chuckled. "When she lived with us, she never did like to answer that question. Best you just let her have this bit of fun. Time to be good again when we go back home."
"I don't want her drinking so much caffeine," the occasionally anal retentive heathen said.
"Man, you got a death wish?" Max snorted. "This be the woman that makes the food you eat! Let it be and live another 50 years!"
I thought that was great advice and poured a fresh hot cup of chicory coffee and sashayed out of the room. With any luck, His Holiness' memory will fade by the time the holiday weekend is over.
Glory, Max and Vi, and Cowboy and I went shopping before my other out-of-town guests arrived. I kept the ladies busy while Max picked out a few things and paid for them. Then Cowboy kept Max distracted while the ladies selected things for him. Max insisted I accompany him to the food court while Glory and Vi and Cowboy disappeared, then they demanded that Cowboy sit with them while they rested and Max and I made ourselves scarce. It was pure slapstick - figuring out who was doing what with whom as we made some Christmas selections for those we loved.
When our friends, Alli and Paul arrived with their 4 boys, we did it all over again but in greater numbers. I'm super organized so I had a list of who was doing what and with whom while we shopped. We strayed from the planned schedule and kept bumping into each other, but had so much fun that we're going to laugh about this again and again. All the out-of-town gifts were shipped directly from the stores so Cowboy and Paul and Max didn't have a lot to carry home...
Cowboy mentioned that I might be close to maxing out my credit card so he suggested I use his. Ut-oh... I haven't told him that I *was* using his credit card... err... both of his credit cards. Ahhhh well, as Max says: "Life be short and you best be 'preciatin it for all it be worth." I hope that theory applies to credit cards.
And I sincerely hope your holiday was filled with lots of good things. Time to start Christmas preparations.
~Sar~
P.S. 26 days till ol St. Nick tries to climb down my chimney. Eight-year old Patrick said we should leave a note on the top of the chimney to tell Santa to use the front door.
"Why is that?" Cowboy asked.
"'Cause Sar said if he comes down the chimney and there's a fire, he's gonna burn his ass."
"SAR!"
Sheesh! That child repeats EVERYTHING he hears!
P.P.S. I was extraordinarily good the whole time we had company. It just about killed me!
Monday, November 28, 2005
Saturday, November 12, 2005
Tsk!
As usual, I'm doing too many things.
Halloween was great fun. Thankfully it's over. I don't think I could have eaten one more Tootsie Roll. When I finally came down from that sugar high, I slept like a log. Unfortunately, I overslept and was late for an appointment.
Naturally, I whipped out of the house in record time, foregoing breakfast and sped down the highway to my appointment. That evening, His Holiness mentioned that I left the house with barely a kiss on the cheek so he knew I was in a hurry.
"Were you speeding?"
Speeding? Hmmm.... uh... um... errrr... this might be one of those "semantic" moments. I, personally, wasn't speeding. I was sitting... the car I was in was sort of going fast but that's what cars do, right? I mean, it's like a ship in port, I explained to the man who can go dumb at the most inopportune moments.
"Ships are safe in port but that's not why ships were built."
SWAT!
Tsk.
"Are you taking the leftover Halloween candy to the food bank?"
We have leftover candy?
"Sure."
"I don't want you eating all that junk, Sar."
Tsk.
"I like candy."
SWAT!
Tsk.
"Don't you have to go do "admiral" things?"
SWAT!
Double tsk!
Moving right along... the two Rotts we're fostering from Hurricane Katrina are doing nicely. Clyde had a bad habit of nipping my butt when I told him "no." I made noises about the glue factory... He doesn't do that any more. Bonnie, on the other hand, remains a slut. Every time one of the other male Rotts looks at her, she quickly turns into a Parisian courtesan celebrating Bastille Day. Regardless, both have learned manners; they passed their obedience trials for on and off lead.
I proudly told His Holiness of their progress. He had the gall to say I wasn't as proficient "off lead."
Tsk.
We have company arriving from Chicago - Max and Vi and Glory, who I've written about. I've cooked and baked and the house is spic 'n span. I haven't seen them in almost three years and am really excited they're going to stay for a couple of weeks. I told Cowboy he better not be thinking about spanking me when they get here. The wretch said he wouldn't be thinking... he'd be doing and followed that statement with a demonstration.
SWAT!
Tsk.
We were at the airport early. Our guests were due in at 11 p.m. but their plane was late, not arriving until just after midnight. By the time we hugged and kissed, found their luggage, drove home and finished hugging and kissing, it was close to 3 a.m. I was pooped. We all slept in and Cowboy made his famous cream cheese waffles for breakfast. Glory supervised; she loves giving orders to an admiral and mixed a little brandy with the ice cream. Then she fried it and plopped a huge dollop onto each waffle. Delish!
We also had chicory coffee which Max made cause no one makes it as good as he does. He still teases me about how much of it I drink. I really like it and it's even more decadent when you drop chunks of white chocolate in it.
Vi wanted breakfast in bed but Max insisted she eat with us so he made her comfortable on the couch and served her there. Then he insisted that Glory put her feet up and served her as well. Cowboy and I filled our plates and the five of us stopped talking long enough to stuff ourselves.
The cats - DomTom and Miss Emmy - decided that Max was their new best friend; he wasn't pleased. BullyBoy, the Bull Mastiff, sat on the floor next to Vi who isn't crazy about dogs, but he won her over with his adoration. I didn't have the heart to tell her the dog was really interested in her ice cream waffle.
SweetPea, the Rottweiler, stayed in the kitchen and gobbled up as many waffles as he could steal. By the time I discovered this lapse in behavior, he was already looped on the brandied ice cream.
I, of course, was the epitome of goodness. Cowboy wondered - out loud - how long that was going to last. Would you believe everybody laughed? Tsk.
~Sar~
Halloween was great fun. Thankfully it's over. I don't think I could have eaten one more Tootsie Roll. When I finally came down from that sugar high, I slept like a log. Unfortunately, I overslept and was late for an appointment.
Naturally, I whipped out of the house in record time, foregoing breakfast and sped down the highway to my appointment. That evening, His Holiness mentioned that I left the house with barely a kiss on the cheek so he knew I was in a hurry.
"Were you speeding?"
Speeding? Hmmm.... uh... um... errrr... this might be one of those "semantic" moments. I, personally, wasn't speeding. I was sitting... the car I was in was sort of going fast but that's what cars do, right? I mean, it's like a ship in port, I explained to the man who can go dumb at the most inopportune moments.
"Ships are safe in port but that's not why ships were built."
SWAT!
Tsk.
"Are you taking the leftover Halloween candy to the food bank?"
We have leftover candy?
"Sure."
"I don't want you eating all that junk, Sar."
Tsk.
"I like candy."
SWAT!
Tsk.
"Don't you have to go do "admiral" things?"
SWAT!
Double tsk!
Moving right along... the two Rotts we're fostering from Hurricane Katrina are doing nicely. Clyde had a bad habit of nipping my butt when I told him "no." I made noises about the glue factory... He doesn't do that any more. Bonnie, on the other hand, remains a slut. Every time one of the other male Rotts looks at her, she quickly turns into a Parisian courtesan celebrating Bastille Day. Regardless, both have learned manners; they passed their obedience trials for on and off lead.
I proudly told His Holiness of their progress. He had the gall to say I wasn't as proficient "off lead."
Tsk.
We have company arriving from Chicago - Max and Vi and Glory, who I've written about. I've cooked and baked and the house is spic 'n span. I haven't seen them in almost three years and am really excited they're going to stay for a couple of weeks. I told Cowboy he better not be thinking about spanking me when they get here. The wretch said he wouldn't be thinking... he'd be doing and followed that statement with a demonstration.
SWAT!
Tsk.
We were at the airport early. Our guests were due in at 11 p.m. but their plane was late, not arriving until just after midnight. By the time we hugged and kissed, found their luggage, drove home and finished hugging and kissing, it was close to 3 a.m. I was pooped. We all slept in and Cowboy made his famous cream cheese waffles for breakfast. Glory supervised; she loves giving orders to an admiral and mixed a little brandy with the ice cream. Then she fried it and plopped a huge dollop onto each waffle. Delish!
We also had chicory coffee which Max made cause no one makes it as good as he does. He still teases me about how much of it I drink. I really like it and it's even more decadent when you drop chunks of white chocolate in it.
Vi wanted breakfast in bed but Max insisted she eat with us so he made her comfortable on the couch and served her there. Then he insisted that Glory put her feet up and served her as well. Cowboy and I filled our plates and the five of us stopped talking long enough to stuff ourselves.
The cats - DomTom and Miss Emmy - decided that Max was their new best friend; he wasn't pleased. BullyBoy, the Bull Mastiff, sat on the floor next to Vi who isn't crazy about dogs, but he won her over with his adoration. I didn't have the heart to tell her the dog was really interested in her ice cream waffle.
SweetPea, the Rottweiler, stayed in the kitchen and gobbled up as many waffles as he could steal. By the time I discovered this lapse in behavior, he was already looped on the brandied ice cream.
I, of course, was the epitome of goodness. Cowboy wondered - out loud - how long that was going to last. Would you believe everybody laughed? Tsk.
~Sar~
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
The Good Seed
Halloween is less than a week away and I still haven't finished "sampling" all the candy to offer the wee goblins that show up at my door. I abhor the thought of sharing chocolate... there are sacrifices and there are sacrifices. I have no intention of making that particular sacrifice. Chocolate is something the trick or treaters are going to get in large measure from neighbors with less discriminating palates; they don't need to get it from me. I mentioned this to the giant squid and he said...
"Last year, you gave them wrapped taffy and when they weren't looking, you stole chocolate from their Halloween bags."
Tsk. I did no such thing. And besides... I only took the chocolates that I really liked; I didn't touch the plebian stuff.
"And this year, I'm answering the door to make sure the kids actually get some chocolate."
Double tsk. I might have to put the dogs outside the front door to scare the little buggers away.
I bought Reese's peanut butter cups - for me.
I bought Hershey nuggets - for me.
I bought Butterfinger and Heath bars - for me.
I bought Babe Ruth bars - for me.
I bought ZERO bars - for me.
I bought dark chocolate bars for the giant squid.
And... I got Jujubees and gumdrops and licorice and little packets of Indian corn and brand new boxes of crayons for the little kids.
My idea of Halloween is to have a party that includes pretty trays filled with crackers and raw veggies and lots of interesting dips.
And wine.
Then, when everyone is snookered on the wine, they won't realize they're gobbling up all the veggies the giant squid buys. While they're doing that, I can eat my chocolate in peace. I tried that one year and the next day, His Holiness told me I couldn't eat chocolate in the house for a whole week.
ROFL! Uh huh. Sure, yep, whatever you say.
So... for a whole week, I ate my chocolate out on the back deck.
Last year, I ate so much chocolate pre - during - and post Halloween that when I went to the doctor for an annual checkup, the squid said he wouldn't be surprised if I tested positive for Tootsie Rolls. Tsk.
Have you ever noticed the teeth on the technicians who draw the blood? Very fang-like. I'm almost positive they're related to vampires.
The giant squid said he wouldn't mind how much chocolate I consumed if I gained a little weight. Ummm... he also mentioned I should be nicer to the dentist. The dentist is a naval officer... I live with a sailor who was a Seal. Navy dentists aren't much of a challenge and because His Holiness is an admiral, they go out of their way not to hurt me.
Yesterday, I broke down and cleaned out the downstairs hall closet. Oh boy! I counted 8 duffel bags! Some of them were full so I opened them and peeked inside. One has several nicely wrapped presents! See! Writing to Santa early really *does* pay off! I put that duffel bag right back where I found it.
Another had a stash of chocolate I forgot about - ate that.
I found a paddle in one! A paddle! That couldn't possibly be for me! I immediately took it out to the garage and chopped it up for firewood. After I did that, I wondered if that might have been the frame thingy for his tennis racket. Oh well... better to be firewood than to take a chance.
The dogs got very interested in another duffel bag. It had a stench to it that attracts the canine nose - eau du dirty socks. I dumped those in the wash. And last, I filled an extra large plastic bag with old clothes, among which were some of the giant squid's belts. I mean... how many does he really need?
I am so pleased with the prettily wrapped presents that I'm going to dash off another letter to Santa. This is a good day to do it because I've been extraordinarily good today and won't have to fudge facts. Tomorrow could be a whole other story.
~Sar~
"Last year, you gave them wrapped taffy and when they weren't looking, you stole chocolate from their Halloween bags."
Tsk. I did no such thing. And besides... I only took the chocolates that I really liked; I didn't touch the plebian stuff.
"And this year, I'm answering the door to make sure the kids actually get some chocolate."
Double tsk. I might have to put the dogs outside the front door to scare the little buggers away.
I bought Reese's peanut butter cups - for me.
I bought Hershey nuggets - for me.
I bought Butterfinger and Heath bars - for me.
I bought Babe Ruth bars - for me.
I bought ZERO bars - for me.
I bought dark chocolate bars for the giant squid.
And... I got Jujubees and gumdrops and licorice and little packets of Indian corn and brand new boxes of crayons for the little kids.
My idea of Halloween is to have a party that includes pretty trays filled with crackers and raw veggies and lots of interesting dips.
And wine.
Then, when everyone is snookered on the wine, they won't realize they're gobbling up all the veggies the giant squid buys. While they're doing that, I can eat my chocolate in peace. I tried that one year and the next day, His Holiness told me I couldn't eat chocolate in the house for a whole week.
ROFL! Uh huh. Sure, yep, whatever you say.
So... for a whole week, I ate my chocolate out on the back deck.
Last year, I ate so much chocolate pre - during - and post Halloween that when I went to the doctor for an annual checkup, the squid said he wouldn't be surprised if I tested positive for Tootsie Rolls. Tsk.
Have you ever noticed the teeth on the technicians who draw the blood? Very fang-like. I'm almost positive they're related to vampires.
The giant squid said he wouldn't mind how much chocolate I consumed if I gained a little weight. Ummm... he also mentioned I should be nicer to the dentist. The dentist is a naval officer... I live with a sailor who was a Seal. Navy dentists aren't much of a challenge and because His Holiness is an admiral, they go out of their way not to hurt me.
Yesterday, I broke down and cleaned out the downstairs hall closet. Oh boy! I counted 8 duffel bags! Some of them were full so I opened them and peeked inside. One has several nicely wrapped presents! See! Writing to Santa early really *does* pay off! I put that duffel bag right back where I found it.
Another had a stash of chocolate I forgot about - ate that.
I found a paddle in one! A paddle! That couldn't possibly be for me! I immediately took it out to the garage and chopped it up for firewood. After I did that, I wondered if that might have been the frame thingy for his tennis racket. Oh well... better to be firewood than to take a chance.
The dogs got very interested in another duffel bag. It had a stench to it that attracts the canine nose - eau du dirty socks. I dumped those in the wash. And last, I filled an extra large plastic bag with old clothes, among which were some of the giant squid's belts. I mean... how many does he really need?
I am so pleased with the prettily wrapped presents that I'm going to dash off another letter to Santa. This is a good day to do it because I've been extraordinarily good today and won't have to fudge facts. Tomorrow could be a whole other story.
~Sar~
Thursday, October 20, 2005
Grumpy
His Holiness said we were going to take a few days to relax and regroup. I've been putting in long days working and evenings have been filled with making holidays plans. We're military - as a senior ranked Naval officer, the giant squid gets to do a bit of holiday hosting and even if we cater a meal, there's still a lot of planning.
I threw a few things in a duffel bag - sweats, shorts, running shoes and packed stuff for the pups. They get all excited when they see their leads and sweaters go in a bag. BullyBoy, the mastiff, can open the fridge by himself... dropped a 6-pack of Budweiser into the duffel. That dog is a lush and desperately needs Canine AA. SweetPea, a ferocious attack-trained rottweiler, slipped his "sleepy ragdoll" into the bag. I crammed it with chocolate bars and let the squid pack his own gear.
I was all prepared to leave early on a Saturday morning. I was not prepared to be awakened at 2 AM! Well, that didn't last long. As soon as we got in the car, I went back to dreamland. The squid knows the way to the ferry docks. We have a small cabin on one of the smaller islands in the San Juans and the ferry traffic that time of night is restricted to Lopez, Orcas and the larger San Juan Island. We ferry to one of those and take a charter the rest of the way. We arrived in time for breakfast and the pups and I stuffed ourselves and went back to bed so the squid could take a nap.
I really wanted to run on the beach but His Holiness said no in such an ominous tone... tsk. We waited till he was sleeping deeply and crept out of the cabin as quietly as 2 legs and 8 paws could go.
Unfortunately... the former Seal... still has good hearing and we got about 20 feet away from the cabin before I heard "SAR!"
Jeez! It's not like we were running away.
The pups whined.
I grumbled.
His Holiness muttered something unintelligible. Honestly... for a commanding officer, you'd think he could be more articulate.
A woman has to stand up for herself so when he arched a brow and pointed a finger in the direction of the cabin, I crossed my arms over my chest and arched my own brow. Ummm... I also positioned the mastiff and rottweiler in front of me...
Oy! That didn't work.
To make a long story short, the view of the surf from over his shoulder wasn't the scene I had in mind and one very well placed smack convinced me that I needed to rethink my plans. He sure gets grumpy when he's tired. I made a simple comment: "Do you smack your subordinates when you're grumpy?"
~Sigh~
Another smack and I decided not to ask any more questions. Did I say grumpy? *Really* grumpy.
The pups and I weren't interested in napping so while the squid caught up on his zzzzzz's, we polished off a few boxes of Cracker Jacks, a few Twinkies and I made up some menus for the holidays. When 'ol Grumpy finally got his act together, we took that run on the beach. We usually jog 5 miles and walk 5 miles back but the squid felt like running and since he won't let me do more than 5 miles, he carried me piggy back on the return route. I like to yell "Ride 'em Cowboy!" when he does this but apparently I'm the only one who finds this amusing. Tsk. He stayed grumpy a little while longer.
I told him if he didn't do something about his attitude I was gonna smack him good. I mean, it wasn't my idea to get up at 2 AM...
"Oh yeah?" he muttered and came after me.
Tsk.
I set the dogs on him and took off running down the beach like a bat out of hell. When he got the dogs off of him, he gave chase and tackled me on the sand and a serious tickling session and "good stuff" later, he wasn't grumpy any more.
He made pancakes and chicory coffee for lunch. I think I'll keep him.
~Sar~
I threw a few things in a duffel bag - sweats, shorts, running shoes and packed stuff for the pups. They get all excited when they see their leads and sweaters go in a bag. BullyBoy, the mastiff, can open the fridge by himself... dropped a 6-pack of Budweiser into the duffel. That dog is a lush and desperately needs Canine AA. SweetPea, a ferocious attack-trained rottweiler, slipped his "sleepy ragdoll" into the bag. I crammed it with chocolate bars and let the squid pack his own gear.
I was all prepared to leave early on a Saturday morning. I was not prepared to be awakened at 2 AM! Well, that didn't last long. As soon as we got in the car, I went back to dreamland. The squid knows the way to the ferry docks. We have a small cabin on one of the smaller islands in the San Juans and the ferry traffic that time of night is restricted to Lopez, Orcas and the larger San Juan Island. We ferry to one of those and take a charter the rest of the way. We arrived in time for breakfast and the pups and I stuffed ourselves and went back to bed so the squid could take a nap.
I really wanted to run on the beach but His Holiness said no in such an ominous tone... tsk. We waited till he was sleeping deeply and crept out of the cabin as quietly as 2 legs and 8 paws could go.
Unfortunately... the former Seal... still has good hearing and we got about 20 feet away from the cabin before I heard "SAR!"
Jeez! It's not like we were running away.
The pups whined.
I grumbled.
His Holiness muttered something unintelligible. Honestly... for a commanding officer, you'd think he could be more articulate.
A woman has to stand up for herself so when he arched a brow and pointed a finger in the direction of the cabin, I crossed my arms over my chest and arched my own brow. Ummm... I also positioned the mastiff and rottweiler in front of me...
Oy! That didn't work.
To make a long story short, the view of the surf from over his shoulder wasn't the scene I had in mind and one very well placed smack convinced me that I needed to rethink my plans. He sure gets grumpy when he's tired. I made a simple comment: "Do you smack your subordinates when you're grumpy?"
~Sigh~
Another smack and I decided not to ask any more questions. Did I say grumpy? *Really* grumpy.
The pups and I weren't interested in napping so while the squid caught up on his zzzzzz's, we polished off a few boxes of Cracker Jacks, a few Twinkies and I made up some menus for the holidays. When 'ol Grumpy finally got his act together, we took that run on the beach. We usually jog 5 miles and walk 5 miles back but the squid felt like running and since he won't let me do more than 5 miles, he carried me piggy back on the return route. I like to yell "Ride 'em Cowboy!" when he does this but apparently I'm the only one who finds this amusing. Tsk. He stayed grumpy a little while longer.
I told him if he didn't do something about his attitude I was gonna smack him good. I mean, it wasn't my idea to get up at 2 AM...
"Oh yeah?" he muttered and came after me.
Tsk.
I set the dogs on him and took off running down the beach like a bat out of hell. When he got the dogs off of him, he gave chase and tackled me on the sand and a serious tickling session and "good stuff" later, he wasn't grumpy any more.
He made pancakes and chicory coffee for lunch. I think I'll keep him.
~Sar~
Friday, October 07, 2005
Pushing limits...
I hate to say it, but I'm tired. I've been working long hours and it's finally catching up with me. I've always been high energy but even the Energizer Bunny needs a new battery once in a while. The problem is that I'm wiped out at the end of the day but having a bout of insomnia... not a good combination.
Long time readers of my web site know that I'm a fiber artist, mostly art quilts and sometimes, other art created from textiles - book covers, one-of-a-kind handbags, and soft cloth dolls to name a few. I take just a few commissions a year and spend a great deal of time creating wall art for auction. Some of those pieces are used to raise money for charitable foundations, i.e., local cancer institute, children's hospital, the tsunami relief fund, hurricane Katrina, etc.
A group of quilters here in the Pacific Northwest committed a really large number of quilts to the hurricane Katrina families and I have been working with them for several weeks. We're making simple quilts but it takes a lot of time to make so many. I have other projects going on at the same time and then there's the giant squid...
The man wants to eat EVERY day! There is no end to it! Adding insult to injury, he wants me to include vegetables in the meals! Really folks! Home cooked meals are one thing - I do like to cook and bake - but vegetables? Why couldn't he be a "meat and potatoes" kind of guy? And when he says "make something green to go with dinner," I can't understand why pickles are unacceptable... Last night I added lime sherbet for dessert... Was that appreciated? Tsk.
We foster "rescue" dogs, specializing in large breeds because they're the hardest to foster. I have BullyBoy, a Bull Mastiff, and SweetPea, a Rottweiler as personal companion dogs. Our outside pups are Tank and Panda, two more rotts. So when the Rottweiler Rescue League asked if we'd foster two rotts rescued from hurricane Katrina, we said sure. We'll keep them until their owners can be located and resettled. If, after a year, they haven't been found, we'll put them up for adoption.
They came with microchips but no name tags so I gave them temporary names - Bonnie and Clyde. Clyde has no manners... and Bonnie is a slut.
Moving right along... Clyde growled at me when I told him "no." I've been training dogs in obedience for a while now... I grabbed his muzzle, squeezed... and growled back. He won't do that again.
When I grabbed Clyde, Bonnie charged me. Tsk. I lifted my knee right into her chest. Bonnie won't do that again, either. My own pups were all over the newbies and reinforced the one and only rule I have.
Behave and eat LARGE. Misbehave and eat kibble. Very effective rule.
So why doesn't that work on me? Funny you should ask. I do most of the cooking...
His Holiness (a.k.a. the giant squid, Cowboy, the Admiral) says I'm working too hard and he wants me to scale back.
Uh huh. Sure. Right away. Aye, aye, Sir! (Rollin' me eyes.)
He says if I don't scale back soon - like starting tomorrow - I'll be standing for dinner.
Oh goody! He's taking me out to a restaurant that has a buffet!
~Sar~
P.S. Your comments are welcome.
P.P.S. There's a link back to my web site at the top of this screen over on the right. --->
Long time readers of my web site know that I'm a fiber artist, mostly art quilts and sometimes, other art created from textiles - book covers, one-of-a-kind handbags, and soft cloth dolls to name a few. I take just a few commissions a year and spend a great deal of time creating wall art for auction. Some of those pieces are used to raise money for charitable foundations, i.e., local cancer institute, children's hospital, the tsunami relief fund, hurricane Katrina, etc.
A group of quilters here in the Pacific Northwest committed a really large number of quilts to the hurricane Katrina families and I have been working with them for several weeks. We're making simple quilts but it takes a lot of time to make so many. I have other projects going on at the same time and then there's the giant squid...
The man wants to eat EVERY day! There is no end to it! Adding insult to injury, he wants me to include vegetables in the meals! Really folks! Home cooked meals are one thing - I do like to cook and bake - but vegetables? Why couldn't he be a "meat and potatoes" kind of guy? And when he says "make something green to go with dinner," I can't understand why pickles are unacceptable... Last night I added lime sherbet for dessert... Was that appreciated? Tsk.
We foster "rescue" dogs, specializing in large breeds because they're the hardest to foster. I have BullyBoy, a Bull Mastiff, and SweetPea, a Rottweiler as personal companion dogs. Our outside pups are Tank and Panda, two more rotts. So when the Rottweiler Rescue League asked if we'd foster two rotts rescued from hurricane Katrina, we said sure. We'll keep them until their owners can be located and resettled. If, after a year, they haven't been found, we'll put them up for adoption.
They came with microchips but no name tags so I gave them temporary names - Bonnie and Clyde. Clyde has no manners... and Bonnie is a slut.
Moving right along... Clyde growled at me when I told him "no." I've been training dogs in obedience for a while now... I grabbed his muzzle, squeezed... and growled back. He won't do that again.
When I grabbed Clyde, Bonnie charged me. Tsk. I lifted my knee right into her chest. Bonnie won't do that again, either. My own pups were all over the newbies and reinforced the one and only rule I have.
Behave and eat LARGE. Misbehave and eat kibble. Very effective rule.
So why doesn't that work on me? Funny you should ask. I do most of the cooking...
His Holiness (a.k.a. the giant squid, Cowboy, the Admiral) says I'm working too hard and he wants me to scale back.
Uh huh. Sure. Right away. Aye, aye, Sir! (Rollin' me eyes.)
He says if I don't scale back soon - like starting tomorrow - I'll be standing for dinner.
Oh goody! He's taking me out to a restaurant that has a buffet!
~Sar~
P.S. Your comments are welcome.
P.P.S. There's a link back to my web site at the top of this screen over on the right. --->
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Under Construction
Not sure why I'm doing this... There are moments, events, and/or mini scenes in the course of daily life that I think might turn into a snippet or other story. Some I make note of in my "working" folder; others, I simply disgard or share with a friend who *always* says "Oh! A snippet in the making!" Tsk. Some ideas simply are not story material but good enough to share. Ergo: I'm debating this blog/journal idea because the reader base on my website is made up of zealous voyeurs. For the time being, this blog is still under construction but I'll post a date beneath the link showing when I made the most recent entry.
~Sar~
~Sar~
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