No matter what the calendar says, summer doesn't really start here until 4th of July weekend. We had a few warmish days recently but then the weather gods remembered this is the Pacific Northwest and we were blessed with a few days of steady rain. They're predicting a long hot and dry summer and watering one's lawn becomes a really expensive budget item. Water is our most expensive utility, almost as bad as gasoline so rain in the warmer months is a plus.
Rain out here isn't just ordinary rain. When we lived in Miami, it rained lightly or heavily or during monsoon months, it poured like it was coming out of faucets. Out here, there's rain, thick rain, mist, drizzle, showers, hail, thick hail, icy rain and sleet and snow. I may have left a few types out but that about covers it. In Florida, showers were intermittent rain; out here, showers are steady rain. Rain is light rain and thick rain is LARGE raindrops. Where did these weather people go to school? Rain is rain. It's brief or passing through or light or heavy. Period.
Which begs the question...
"I don't want you jogging in the rain, bambina."
By definition, that means he doesn't want me jogging in light rain. The rest is good to go!
Oh goody!
"Okey-dokey."
"I mean it, Sar. If it's raining, you're not jogging. Are we clear on this?"
"Uh huh. No jogging in the rain."
"Why are you being so agreeable?" the Neanderthal asked with an arched brow.
"Would you rather I argued with you? Would it make your manly demeanor more... uh... manly?"
SWAT!
Tsk.
"And if you're going shopping at the mall today, park in the underground garage so you don't have to walk in the rain."
"Underground garage... check."
"And take a sweater in case the temperature drops again like it did last night."
"Sweater... check."
"And don't fill up on all that junk food. We're eating at the commandant's house tonight and I want you to have an appetite."
"No filling up on junk food... check. And the commandant's house for dinner... check."
"You're cruisin' for a bruisin', bambina."
"Cruising for a bruising... check."
SWAT!
Tsk.
The base commandant's house for dinner: The end of the world is here! The commandant is a meat and potatoes kind of guy. His wife is a vegan! What is wrong with that man? Couldn't he have had a mid-life crisis and married a platinum blonde 20 years younger than he is, with a single digit IQ, breast implants, fake fingernails and collagen lips?
If I am doomed to push green things around my plate all night I'm going to load up on real food! I'll dash off to the mall, park in the underground garage, take a sweater with me, and load up on burgers, onion rings, and milkshakes. And to be sure I don't fall asleep during the scintillating dinner conversation, I'll gulp down a few Cuban espressos so the caffeine will give my eyes that wide-awake look.
Thinking... I bet the commandant would love a basket of my homemade apple crisps and peach muffins. While he's eating them I could sneak a few bites of his steak...
"And don't plan on bribing the commandant to share his meal with you, imp."
Honestly, the man has turned into a mind reader!
"Me?" asked with a truly innocent look.
"You!"
Swat!
Tsk.
~Sar~
Friday, May 26, 2006
Saturday, May 20, 2006
Dread & Doom!
You ever see one of those eccentric guys that walk down city streets carrying a billboard sign that says, "Repent! The end of the world is coming." Well... His Holiness never says that but he acts as if "dread and doom" are imminent if I happen to wake up with the sniffles.
An occasional bout of the sniffles does NOT mean I'm coming down with a cold, bronchitis, or pee-numonia. I consider the sniffles to be the nose clearing its chambers same as one clears one's throat. Post nasal drip and all that.
"Yeah, yeah, drink this," the Neanderthal orders as he hands me a vile looking liquid in a short glass.
As if...
"Over my cold dead body!"
"Not gonna tell you again, imp. Drink!"
"Kill!" I yell to the dogs and make a run for it.
"When I catch you, you're not gonna sit for a week!" he yells back as he tries to disentangle himself from close to 300 lbs. of dog fur and cold muzzles and tongues licking his face.
Such a precious picture seeing him on the floor with my pups. I'd take a picture if I wasn't in a big hurry to get the hell out of Dodge.
When I'm anxious to get out of his line of fire, I skip the stairs and slide down the banister. I'm out the back door, across the yard and my outside Rotts - Tank and Panda - come charging toward me. Jeez. COLD noses but sweet warm kisses. I promise to come back and love them up later but right now, I spy a giant squid coming out the backdoor and he doesn't look friendly.
Thinking...
Up a tree or in the Rott kennel? Which is safer?
I go for the tree and am almost high enough to be out of his reach when he yanks on the bottom of my pajamas! DIRTY POOL!
My jammies come down! He laughs. I am mortified and I tell him he'd better eat out for the rest of the week.
"How dare you!" I yell.
"Easily," he laughs.
"There are laws against this," I tell him.
"Not in my house," the giant squid retorts and a couple of hard swats later, covers my bare bottom with his excessively large paw... er, hand... and we go back into the house.
Unfortunately, I still have the sniffles.
"Where were we?" he asks as he gives me one of those smug male grins.
"You know... sniffles could be allergies. Lots of stuff in bloom."
I know, I know. It was a feeble attempt but when you're already facing dread and doom, you try anything.
And then... I SNEEZED! TWICE!
Acckkkkkk!
"That's what happens when you run in the backyard barefoot on the cold grass in the morning and wearing next to nothing."
"YOU were the one who pulled my jammies down."
"And I'm the one who is gonna warm your tush."
"You're a Neanderthal!"
"Uh huh."
"You know there are other ways to warm me up."
"Like what?" said with a big grin.
I made a few suggestions.
He liked them. *smiles*
And the band played on.
~Sar~
An occasional bout of the sniffles does NOT mean I'm coming down with a cold, bronchitis, or pee-numonia. I consider the sniffles to be the nose clearing its chambers same as one clears one's throat. Post nasal drip and all that.
"Yeah, yeah, drink this," the Neanderthal orders as he hands me a vile looking liquid in a short glass.
As if...
"Over my cold dead body!"
"Not gonna tell you again, imp. Drink!"
"Kill!" I yell to the dogs and make a run for it.
"When I catch you, you're not gonna sit for a week!" he yells back as he tries to disentangle himself from close to 300 lbs. of dog fur and cold muzzles and tongues licking his face.
Such a precious picture seeing him on the floor with my pups. I'd take a picture if I wasn't in a big hurry to get the hell out of Dodge.
When I'm anxious to get out of his line of fire, I skip the stairs and slide down the banister. I'm out the back door, across the yard and my outside Rotts - Tank and Panda - come charging toward me. Jeez. COLD noses but sweet warm kisses. I promise to come back and love them up later but right now, I spy a giant squid coming out the backdoor and he doesn't look friendly.
Thinking...
Up a tree or in the Rott kennel? Which is safer?
I go for the tree and am almost high enough to be out of his reach when he yanks on the bottom of my pajamas! DIRTY POOL!
My jammies come down! He laughs. I am mortified and I tell him he'd better eat out for the rest of the week.
"How dare you!" I yell.
"Easily," he laughs.
"There are laws against this," I tell him.
"Not in my house," the giant squid retorts and a couple of hard swats later, covers my bare bottom with his excessively large paw... er, hand... and we go back into the house.
Unfortunately, I still have the sniffles.
"Where were we?" he asks as he gives me one of those smug male grins.
"You know... sniffles could be allergies. Lots of stuff in bloom."
I know, I know. It was a feeble attempt but when you're already facing dread and doom, you try anything.
And then... I SNEEZED! TWICE!
Acckkkkkk!
"That's what happens when you run in the backyard barefoot on the cold grass in the morning and wearing next to nothing."
"YOU were the one who pulled my jammies down."
"And I'm the one who is gonna warm your tush."
"You're a Neanderthal!"
"Uh huh."
"You know there are other ways to warm me up."
"Like what?" said with a big grin.
I made a few suggestions.
He liked them. *smiles*
And the band played on.
~Sar~
Saturday, May 13, 2006
Red Toenails
Whenever the giant squid goes into overprotective mode, I tend to get stifled. I know he means well but let's face it: Fragile, I'm not. His remedy for my recent malaise is to tell me to rest, eat more and remember happy times. I admit I'm not the best "sleeper" on the planet but when my body is plain worn out, I'll sleep. As for eating... green things are not high on my list in case you didn't know that unless we're talking apple green jellybeans, green M&Ms, kiwi, pistachio ice cream, honeydew melon and lime sherbet. The giant squid didn't get any of those items when he decided to do the grocery shopping the other day.
Men! When women are feeling less than perfect, they like to eat "comfort" food. And you can't tell me his mother didn't eat comfort food. I know she did and while his father probably rolled his eyes when she did - sort of like Cowboy does when I reach for chocolate, I'm sure he indulged her because he loved her. I told His Holiness those exact words and he made a sound somewhere between a snort and a sound of disbelief. This did not stop me from consuming two Heath bars before he put a GREEN antipasto on the table. Naturally, I had to fill up. After living with him for eons, you'd think he'd already know I was only going to eat the cheese and the meats and leave the icky green things for him.
"SARRRR!"
SWAT
Tsk.
I called the grocery store and added a few items to be delivered along with the pizza (pizzaria next door to grocery store) and told the man to put everything in a separate bag and leave it on the doorstep when Cowboy closed the door. I would retrieve everything as soon as he went into the kitchen to open the pizza boxes.
So there I was, bending over - groan - retrieving goodie bag from doorstep when an arm went around my waist, a hand landed on my butt (a LARGE and HEAVY hand) and a growl I have heard more than a few times blistered my ears.
Good God! The man has radar!
"You're going to make me deaf if you keep doing that!"
"I'm going to light a fire on your tush if you don't eat something nutritious before you eat anything else."
SWAT
Tsk.
Nutritious? Pizza is nutritious? Okie dokie, folks. You read it here! Pizza is nutritious! YES!
"And just how did you know there was more than pizza delivered?" I asked as I scarfed down a big piece, slipped another to the Rott and yet another to the Mastiff when the giant squid stuck his head in the refrigerator to retrieve a beer. The beer got the Mastiff's immediate attention.
"I saw the bill."
Oops.
"And after you eat you're going to bed," the Neanderthal announced.
"I'm not sleepy."
"You keep that attitude and you're going to sleep on your tummy."
Giant Neanderthal.
"Bet I can make you change your mind," I told him as I stole the pepperoni off his pizza.
"On your tummy for several nights in a row," he added.
Attla the Hun Neanderthal.
"I'm feeling pretty rested, actually."
"You're not caught up on rest. You're going to bed."
"Am not."
"Don't argue with me, Sar. End of discussion."
"Is that so?" I arched a brow in his direction, folded my arms across my chest and nudged the table with my knee so the can of beer would tip over the side. The Mastiff sprung into action, slurped the spill, grabbed the can in his jaws and tipped his head back. Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle.
I couldn't help myself. I laughed.
The Neanderthal couldn't help himself. He upended me and landed a few and I told him he was dead meat.
"Yeah, but I'm your dead meat. Upstairs, now."
Tsk.
So... I went upstairs, took a shower, and brushed my hair so it hung nice and long and curly. Then I got into bed, painted my toenails red - fire engine red - and positioned my body, clad in a brief camisole and thong, on the pillows and waited for the giant Neanderthal to come upstairs to see if I was in bed.
Giant Neanderthals cannot resist red toenails. It was a l-o-n-g time before he actually let me fall asleep. (I'm planning to have a "green" breakfast very soon - green jellybeans and pistachio ice cream.)
~Sar~
P.S. Sincere thanks for the sweet comments to the blog and to my e-mail addy. You fill my heart with your kind words and I thank you.
Men! When women are feeling less than perfect, they like to eat "comfort" food. And you can't tell me his mother didn't eat comfort food. I know she did and while his father probably rolled his eyes when she did - sort of like Cowboy does when I reach for chocolate, I'm sure he indulged her because he loved her. I told His Holiness those exact words and he made a sound somewhere between a snort and a sound of disbelief. This did not stop me from consuming two Heath bars before he put a GREEN antipasto on the table. Naturally, I had to fill up. After living with him for eons, you'd think he'd already know I was only going to eat the cheese and the meats and leave the icky green things for him.
"SARRRR!"
SWAT
Tsk.
I called the grocery store and added a few items to be delivered along with the pizza (pizzaria next door to grocery store) and told the man to put everything in a separate bag and leave it on the doorstep when Cowboy closed the door. I would retrieve everything as soon as he went into the kitchen to open the pizza boxes.
So there I was, bending over - groan - retrieving goodie bag from doorstep when an arm went around my waist, a hand landed on my butt (a LARGE and HEAVY hand) and a growl I have heard more than a few times blistered my ears.
Good God! The man has radar!
"You're going to make me deaf if you keep doing that!"
"I'm going to light a fire on your tush if you don't eat something nutritious before you eat anything else."
SWAT
Tsk.
Nutritious? Pizza is nutritious? Okie dokie, folks. You read it here! Pizza is nutritious! YES!
"And just how did you know there was more than pizza delivered?" I asked as I scarfed down a big piece, slipped another to the Rott and yet another to the Mastiff when the giant squid stuck his head in the refrigerator to retrieve a beer. The beer got the Mastiff's immediate attention.
"I saw the bill."
Oops.
"And after you eat you're going to bed," the Neanderthal announced.
"I'm not sleepy."
"You keep that attitude and you're going to sleep on your tummy."
Giant Neanderthal.
"Bet I can make you change your mind," I told him as I stole the pepperoni off his pizza.
"On your tummy for several nights in a row," he added.
Attla the Hun Neanderthal.
"I'm feeling pretty rested, actually."
"You're not caught up on rest. You're going to bed."
"Am not."
"Don't argue with me, Sar. End of discussion."
"Is that so?" I arched a brow in his direction, folded my arms across my chest and nudged the table with my knee so the can of beer would tip over the side. The Mastiff sprung into action, slurped the spill, grabbed the can in his jaws and tipped his head back. Gurgle, gurgle, gurgle.
I couldn't help myself. I laughed.
The Neanderthal couldn't help himself. He upended me and landed a few and I told him he was dead meat.
"Yeah, but I'm your dead meat. Upstairs, now."
Tsk.
So... I went upstairs, took a shower, and brushed my hair so it hung nice and long and curly. Then I got into bed, painted my toenails red - fire engine red - and positioned my body, clad in a brief camisole and thong, on the pillows and waited for the giant Neanderthal to come upstairs to see if I was in bed.
Giant Neanderthals cannot resist red toenails. It was a l-o-n-g time before he actually let me fall asleep. (I'm planning to have a "green" breakfast very soon - green jellybeans and pistachio ice cream.)
~Sar~
P.S. Sincere thanks for the sweet comments to the blog and to my e-mail addy. You fill my heart with your kind words and I thank you.
Sunday, May 07, 2006
A brief note
Mia bambina and I are home. It has been a hard week for her. We flew to Florida to attend the funeral of an old and great friend of Sar's. Between crossing the continent and back again and the emotions of the final good byes, Sar is exhausted and when she is tired she fails to eat much. In just a matter of days her weight has dropped about 6 pounds - pounds she cannot afford to lose.
She finally fell asleep last night - sleeping about 14 hours straight. Her appetite is still poor but I will spoil her with her favorite comfort foods and if that does not work I will threaten to warm her butt. Just saying that generally gives her some energy to burn.
I expect she will feel more like herself in a few days and back online filling you in on my *caveman* ways. When I complete my journal for this week I may post excerpts from our trip to Florida in the form of "frammenti" on Sar's website. I will also ask her to write. The words she chooses to express her inner feelings surpass my simple observations and I think she will achieve greater peace about the circumstances once her crafted words have been posted.
Cowboy
She finally fell asleep last night - sleeping about 14 hours straight. Her appetite is still poor but I will spoil her with her favorite comfort foods and if that does not work I will threaten to warm her butt. Just saying that generally gives her some energy to burn.
I expect she will feel more like herself in a few days and back online filling you in on my *caveman* ways. When I complete my journal for this week I may post excerpts from our trip to Florida in the form of "frammenti" on Sar's website. I will also ask her to write. The words she chooses to express her inner feelings surpass my simple observations and I think she will achieve greater peace about the circumstances once her crafted words have been posted.
Cowboy
Thursday, April 27, 2006
Neanderthals Anonymous
My Internet name is Cowboy and I'm a Neanderthal.
My birth name isn't Cowboy. I hail from the great state of Texas and some of my friends call me Cowboy. That's ok. Cowboy is a lot better than the names I was called when I was at the academy and a green midshipman. You think that's bad you should hear what they call the wannabe marines.
When a man is in the "doghouse" with his wife, it's supposed to be a bad thing. I'm never in the doghouse. Our doghouses aren't bad places to be. We have 10 kennels for dogs we foster and every last one of them is a decent place to live - if you're a dog. All the kennels are a good size. They have enclosed shelters and open runs. Sar put comfortable beds in all of them. She made covers for the beds with zippers so she can take them off and wash them which she does regularly - a couple at a time. The kennels have radiant heat and cooling fans in the back wall. Water is dispensed automatically to a built in concrete trough. I know all this because she badgered me into installing everything.
I mentioned that if we ever move we'll just leave everything for the next owner. Sar said if we move we take everything with us because she doesn't want to build new kennels from scratch. SHE doesn't want to build new kennels from scratch? I wasn't going to build new ones. I was going to hire someone to do that.
So I'm a Neanderthal.
Next topic:
One of my former commanding officers is retired now and out here on the West Coast vacationing with his family. His adult daughter is a "vegan." This must be a new trend cause there seems to be a lot of that going round. I warned Sar not to wave bloody meat around when they were in the house.
I should have kept my mouth shut.
The "butcher" delivered half a cow while they were here and naturally, my wife made a point of checking all the cuts of meat to make sure there was enough bloody meat to last us a while. Then she had a long conversation with the guy about veal and lamb and fresh chickens and turkeys and so help me God, if company wasn't in the house I would have upended her on the spot.
You're damn right I'm a Neanderthal!
The young woman eats eggs and cheese so I think this means she's a vegan some of the time. Not sure. Sar asked if she ate fish. No. What about chocolate she says. Yes. Too bad Sar says. Why? I won't go into all of that. Anyone who knows Sar knows she doesn't share chocolate. But she shared a box of Twinkies and now that this woman has been "Twinkie converted" Sar will probably wave Twinkies in front of her until she begs for a steak. Didn't take her long to convert the woman. I'm telling you. Sar needs to work with our anti-terrorist organizations. And as soon as our company left I lit a small fire on her tush.
Did I mention I'm a Neanderthal?
And I've been informed I need a food taster.
More on vegans:
The young woman left a list of good foods to eat and foods to avoid if Sar wanted to lead a more healthy life style. That was a quote.
My wife? Healthy life style? Uh huh.
I told her she really needs to read the lists. She reads the lists. Then she takes the list and calls all her dogs onto the back deck. Lights a fire in the outdoor grill. Burns the lists along with some leftover string beans and hums what sounds like a mantra. Her dogs - co-conspirators - hum-growl-mutter along with her. I deliver a smack to her butt. The dogs growl at me. Sar laughs. I smack again and tell her she's not gonna sit for a while if she keeps up this nonsense.
Not wanting to let the fire go to waste Sar grills a bunch of that bloody meat. Did I get any? No. Before I can enjoy a bite the dogs get most of it. Waiting for an apology she says. Apology? I may be a Neanderthal but I'm also in charge. I think.
Ok - no hate mail please. I love this woman.
I ask what do I have to do to stop being a Neanderthal. New DNA Sar says. I give her a good swat and steal the meat on her plate.
My name is Cowboy and I'm a Neanderthal.
Cowboy
My birth name isn't Cowboy. I hail from the great state of Texas and some of my friends call me Cowboy. That's ok. Cowboy is a lot better than the names I was called when I was at the academy and a green midshipman. You think that's bad you should hear what they call the wannabe marines.
When a man is in the "doghouse" with his wife, it's supposed to be a bad thing. I'm never in the doghouse. Our doghouses aren't bad places to be. We have 10 kennels for dogs we foster and every last one of them is a decent place to live - if you're a dog. All the kennels are a good size. They have enclosed shelters and open runs. Sar put comfortable beds in all of them. She made covers for the beds with zippers so she can take them off and wash them which she does regularly - a couple at a time. The kennels have radiant heat and cooling fans in the back wall. Water is dispensed automatically to a built in concrete trough. I know all this because she badgered me into installing everything.
I mentioned that if we ever move we'll just leave everything for the next owner. Sar said if we move we take everything with us because she doesn't want to build new kennels from scratch. SHE doesn't want to build new kennels from scratch? I wasn't going to build new ones. I was going to hire someone to do that.
So I'm a Neanderthal.
Next topic:
One of my former commanding officers is retired now and out here on the West Coast vacationing with his family. His adult daughter is a "vegan." This must be a new trend cause there seems to be a lot of that going round. I warned Sar not to wave bloody meat around when they were in the house.
I should have kept my mouth shut.
The "butcher" delivered half a cow while they were here and naturally, my wife made a point of checking all the cuts of meat to make sure there was enough bloody meat to last us a while. Then she had a long conversation with the guy about veal and lamb and fresh chickens and turkeys and so help me God, if company wasn't in the house I would have upended her on the spot.
You're damn right I'm a Neanderthal!
The young woman eats eggs and cheese so I think this means she's a vegan some of the time. Not sure. Sar asked if she ate fish. No. What about chocolate she says. Yes. Too bad Sar says. Why? I won't go into all of that. Anyone who knows Sar knows she doesn't share chocolate. But she shared a box of Twinkies and now that this woman has been "Twinkie converted" Sar will probably wave Twinkies in front of her until she begs for a steak. Didn't take her long to convert the woman. I'm telling you. Sar needs to work with our anti-terrorist organizations. And as soon as our company left I lit a small fire on her tush.
Did I mention I'm a Neanderthal?
And I've been informed I need a food taster.
More on vegans:
The young woman left a list of good foods to eat and foods to avoid if Sar wanted to lead a more healthy life style. That was a quote.
My wife? Healthy life style? Uh huh.
I told her she really needs to read the lists. She reads the lists. Then she takes the list and calls all her dogs onto the back deck. Lights a fire in the outdoor grill. Burns the lists along with some leftover string beans and hums what sounds like a mantra. Her dogs - co-conspirators - hum-growl-mutter along with her. I deliver a smack to her butt. The dogs growl at me. Sar laughs. I smack again and tell her she's not gonna sit for a while if she keeps up this nonsense.
Not wanting to let the fire go to waste Sar grills a bunch of that bloody meat. Did I get any? No. Before I can enjoy a bite the dogs get most of it. Waiting for an apology she says. Apology? I may be a Neanderthal but I'm also in charge. I think.
Ok - no hate mail please. I love this woman.
I ask what do I have to do to stop being a Neanderthal. New DNA Sar says. I give her a good swat and steal the meat on her plate.
My name is Cowboy and I'm a Neanderthal.
Cowboy
Thursday, April 20, 2006
This 'n That
'Tis Spring! My tulips are up, crocus in full bloom and lots of other colors in the garden beds. Hummingbirds are here year round but really hitting my nectar feeders hard now - must have babies on the way. The squirrels have organized - they have a union now - and demand their corn and peanuts no later than mid morning. Sometimes I see 5 or 6 on the back deck just waiting for me to show up. I keep thinking I should ask His Holiness to install a doorbell at the bottom of the door so they could ring it if I'm tardy with the food.
Woody Woodpecker's baby has had some really bad hair days - orange hair in a punk rock style and a voice like a screeching banshee. (No offense to the banshee lovers out there.)
"Don't tell them about the homeowners letter," Cowboy admonished when he read it.
The homeowners association sent me a letter... someone complained that my Rotts, Tank and Panda, were embarrassing them by making whoopee in the backyard in the middle of the day. Excuse me? I have a 7-foot wooden fence around the backyard. What was that person doing standing on a ladder peeking in?
"SAR!"
SWAT!
Tsk.
"And don't tell them what we often do in the backyard in warmer weather."
I wrote back that they should peek in around 7 p.m. when the giant squid and I are in the backyard and in the gazebo sharing a glass of wine. Sometimes we make whoopee out there. It would make for a better show. Tsk.
"SAR!"
SWAT!
Double Tsk.
Did I mention that the Passover dinner was spectacular? I ate everything, of course. I only had a few sips of wine but the three members of the clergy dining with us really went allllll out. Not sure if the priest and the rabbi were having a "I can drink more than you and still not fall on my face" contest or were just savoring the flavor. I had several different wines to choose from and I noticed the Navy chaplain had a glass of each. We made sure someone sober drove all of them home.
Easter dinner was a big hit. Cowboy refused to share his peach cobbler; good thing I made pineapple upside down cakes. I have a photo of him with his hands around the tray of cobblers and a "commanding officer's" glare on his face. LOL! I shall blow that pic up and use it for ammunition at the appropriate time. (The rabbi ate a LOT of the honey baked ham. Tsk and double tsk.) Cowboy said I should have had something else for the man to eat - like a roast or turkey. I asked the rabbi in advance what he wanted and he told me he'd have whatever we were having. I repeated this to the squid who rolled his eyes and said the man was just being polite. Polite? Polite would have been if he asked for the recipe. Tsk.
David brought me a HUGE basket with small chocolate bunnies (minus the ears - he said it's a new strain of bunnies - tsk) and filled with lots of jellybeans. The big bunny in the middle of the basket was... ready for this? Made out of BLACK JELLYBEANS! swooooon
Naturally, I bit off its head which grossed everybody out - except 8-about-to-be-9-year-old Patrick who said that was coooooool beans. I do adore that child.
Took the pups to local obedience trials. Six dogs in Cowboy's SUV take up a lot of room - left Tank and Panda home. My babies, SweetPea and BullyBoy went through a refresher trial; I used hand signals only and they flew threw easily. I've taught both dogs to "heel" back to me when they are in front of me by moving back into position at my side (going in reverse) rather than walking around me. It makes for a bit of entertainment and everyone gets a kick out of it. Both pups knew they did well and were jumping at the applause. I promised them wine and beer when we got home. Of course, we had to wait until the giant squid went off to do giant squid things before they could imbibe.
The foster dogs: Tuma, the Alaskan Malamute, did wonderfully well and he leaves this weekend for his new home. The family that adopted him has three small boys - a good match for an energetic pup. Murdoch, the Deerhound, also did well and he moved in to his new home yesterday - a family that does a lot of hiking and camping - another good match.
Oliver, the English Mastiff, rolled over in the middle of the trials, lifted his head to see who would scratch his belly and... we'll have to work a little harder to get him to pass. A couple of older gentlemen - brothers - adopted Daisy, another English Mastiff, from me over a year ago and have their eye on Oliver. They want Daisy to have a companion and I think that might be a good match, too. Daisy is extraordinarily spoiled by her owners - something I adore seeing, especially for a rescue dog.
Archie, the senior canine Bloodhound, howled through all the events and refused to go into the ring with me. We had a brief private discussion and he conceded defeat. He passed but did everything with his nose in the air as if to say it was beneath him. I may have to keep him 'cause he's an ornery cuss. Or... I could leave him on David's doorstep; David is also an ornery cuss.
My neighbor, MsHairUpHerAss, was hospitalized. I think that "hair" must have penetrated her insides 'cause she had her gall bladder removed. Didn't do anything for her personality; she's still a witch that got kicked out of a coven. We took Peeper Patterson, my next-door neighbor, to visit her. He said she looked great for an old witch.
"Sarrrr....." Jeez. Didn't even get a chance to agree with Peeper before I felt Cowboy's hand on my shoulder.
It is so pretty outside that I've been climbing the trees to wave at God. We have a lot of trees and I don't like to favor one over the other so I've climbed at least 2 each time I'm in the backyard. Saw "Lady Chatterly" and her sugar daddy in their yard... oye, could have missed that scene and lived quite happily.
Cowboy says he doesn't want me climbing trees. I might fall. I don't want him going out to sea. There might be a storm or a war or a leak in the boat. He goes out to sea anyway. I climb trees. He also keeps his right arm ready for instant "tail swatting."
I'm starting a new exercise program. Summer will be here in no time and I have new bathing suits. Couldn't decide between bikini # 1 and # 2 so I bought both. Have to firm up a little. Cowboy says I only need toning in my backside and he'll take care of that. Yeah, right.
The pups and I are jogging 5 miles - up from 3 when the giant squid isn't looking and we're eating more protein. I started doing crunches - tuck my feet under BullyBoy's chest and SweetPea sits at my back so I don't lie flat. It's a bit of a workout but very worthwhile. After 100 crunches, we reward ourselves with a big helping of mac and cheese. If I can work in some bicycle time we devour a box or 2 of Twinkies and chase those with Cracker Jacks. I love rewarding myself.
A vegan I know mentioned the merits of eating more vegetables to cut down on fats and bad-iments. Who are these people? Do their parents still talk to them? I think we should buy another country and put them all together in one place - they could get high preaching to the choir. Give me CHOCOLATE! Give me STEAK! Give me DESSERT! Life is too short to waste it on vegetables.
"SAR!"
SWAT!
Tsk.
~Sar~
Woody Woodpecker's baby has had some really bad hair days - orange hair in a punk rock style and a voice like a screeching banshee. (No offense to the banshee lovers out there.)
"Don't tell them about the homeowners letter," Cowboy admonished when he read it.
The homeowners association sent me a letter... someone complained that my Rotts, Tank and Panda, were embarrassing them by making whoopee in the backyard in the middle of the day. Excuse me? I have a 7-foot wooden fence around the backyard. What was that person doing standing on a ladder peeking in?
"SAR!"
SWAT!
Tsk.
"And don't tell them what we often do in the backyard in warmer weather."
I wrote back that they should peek in around 7 p.m. when the giant squid and I are in the backyard and in the gazebo sharing a glass of wine. Sometimes we make whoopee out there. It would make for a better show. Tsk.
"SAR!"
SWAT!
Double Tsk.
Did I mention that the Passover dinner was spectacular? I ate everything, of course. I only had a few sips of wine but the three members of the clergy dining with us really went allllll out. Not sure if the priest and the rabbi were having a "I can drink more than you and still not fall on my face" contest or were just savoring the flavor. I had several different wines to choose from and I noticed the Navy chaplain had a glass of each. We made sure someone sober drove all of them home.
Easter dinner was a big hit. Cowboy refused to share his peach cobbler; good thing I made pineapple upside down cakes. I have a photo of him with his hands around the tray of cobblers and a "commanding officer's" glare on his face. LOL! I shall blow that pic up and use it for ammunition at the appropriate time. (The rabbi ate a LOT of the honey baked ham. Tsk and double tsk.) Cowboy said I should have had something else for the man to eat - like a roast or turkey. I asked the rabbi in advance what he wanted and he told me he'd have whatever we were having. I repeated this to the squid who rolled his eyes and said the man was just being polite. Polite? Polite would have been if he asked for the recipe. Tsk.
David brought me a HUGE basket with small chocolate bunnies (minus the ears - he said it's a new strain of bunnies - tsk) and filled with lots of jellybeans. The big bunny in the middle of the basket was... ready for this? Made out of BLACK JELLYBEANS! swooooon
Naturally, I bit off its head which grossed everybody out - except 8-about-to-be-9-year-old Patrick who said that was coooooool beans. I do adore that child.
Took the pups to local obedience trials. Six dogs in Cowboy's SUV take up a lot of room - left Tank and Panda home. My babies, SweetPea and BullyBoy went through a refresher trial; I used hand signals only and they flew threw easily. I've taught both dogs to "heel" back to me when they are in front of me by moving back into position at my side (going in reverse) rather than walking around me. It makes for a bit of entertainment and everyone gets a kick out of it. Both pups knew they did well and were jumping at the applause. I promised them wine and beer when we got home. Of course, we had to wait until the giant squid went off to do giant squid things before they could imbibe.
The foster dogs: Tuma, the Alaskan Malamute, did wonderfully well and he leaves this weekend for his new home. The family that adopted him has three small boys - a good match for an energetic pup. Murdoch, the Deerhound, also did well and he moved in to his new home yesterday - a family that does a lot of hiking and camping - another good match.
Oliver, the English Mastiff, rolled over in the middle of the trials, lifted his head to see who would scratch his belly and... we'll have to work a little harder to get him to pass. A couple of older gentlemen - brothers - adopted Daisy, another English Mastiff, from me over a year ago and have their eye on Oliver. They want Daisy to have a companion and I think that might be a good match, too. Daisy is extraordinarily spoiled by her owners - something I adore seeing, especially for a rescue dog.
Archie, the senior canine Bloodhound, howled through all the events and refused to go into the ring with me. We had a brief private discussion and he conceded defeat. He passed but did everything with his nose in the air as if to say it was beneath him. I may have to keep him 'cause he's an ornery cuss. Or... I could leave him on David's doorstep; David is also an ornery cuss.
My neighbor, MsHairUpHerAss, was hospitalized. I think that "hair" must have penetrated her insides 'cause she had her gall bladder removed. Didn't do anything for her personality; she's still a witch that got kicked out of a coven. We took Peeper Patterson, my next-door neighbor, to visit her. He said she looked great for an old witch.
"Sarrrr....." Jeez. Didn't even get a chance to agree with Peeper before I felt Cowboy's hand on my shoulder.
It is so pretty outside that I've been climbing the trees to wave at God. We have a lot of trees and I don't like to favor one over the other so I've climbed at least 2 each time I'm in the backyard. Saw "Lady Chatterly" and her sugar daddy in their yard... oye, could have missed that scene and lived quite happily.
Cowboy says he doesn't want me climbing trees. I might fall. I don't want him going out to sea. There might be a storm or a war or a leak in the boat. He goes out to sea anyway. I climb trees. He also keeps his right arm ready for instant "tail swatting."
I'm starting a new exercise program. Summer will be here in no time and I have new bathing suits. Couldn't decide between bikini # 1 and # 2 so I bought both. Have to firm up a little. Cowboy says I only need toning in my backside and he'll take care of that. Yeah, right.
The pups and I are jogging 5 miles - up from 3 when the giant squid isn't looking and we're eating more protein. I started doing crunches - tuck my feet under BullyBoy's chest and SweetPea sits at my back so I don't lie flat. It's a bit of a workout but very worthwhile. After 100 crunches, we reward ourselves with a big helping of mac and cheese. If I can work in some bicycle time we devour a box or 2 of Twinkies and chase those with Cracker Jacks. I love rewarding myself.
A vegan I know mentioned the merits of eating more vegetables to cut down on fats and bad-iments. Who are these people? Do their parents still talk to them? I think we should buy another country and put them all together in one place - they could get high preaching to the choir. Give me CHOCOLATE! Give me STEAK! Give me DESSERT! Life is too short to waste it on vegetables.
"SAR!"
SWAT!
Tsk.
~Sar~
Saturday, April 08, 2006
Bunny Ears & New Carpeting...
Been cooking and baking for a few days. It's taking longer than usual because it's absolutely glorious outside and when I glance out the wide kitchen windows I see blue skies, green grass, birds at the feeders and the dogs laying on their backs airing out their undies. I have to watch and right in the middle of kneading some dough or mixing a batter, I stop what I'm doing and enjoy the scene.
Sometimes - if His Holiness isn't in sight - I leave everything on the countertops and go out onto the deck.
"SAR!"
Sometimes he catches me.
It's still a bit cool out in the morning and I have difficulty sniffling quietly. I'm certain it's allergies and nothing else.
I'm making a honey baked ham for Easter dinner with all the trimmings. I've already made enough peach cobbler to feed an army (if you'll excuse the expression) and just in case the giant squid refuses to share the cobbler, I baked a cheesecake and two pineapple upsidedown cakes and they're in the fridge and only need to be warmed up if we need them. When I make cobbler, I really make cobbler. None of this wimpy baking dishes with dough on the bottom, filling in the middle and strips of dough on top. I make individual cobblers that look like small pumpkins and when you put your spoon into the crust, oooo delicious peach stuff inside. I make sure Cowboy has eaten about half of one before I subtly mention the Visa bill or the new carpeting I ordered for our bedroom.
(When you get an up-close-and-personal look at it as often as I do... it's gets old fast.)
Passover comes first and I've already got a few things ready for that dinner. We're having 20 guests and I don't want to have to rush. The traditional Passover dinner includes FOUR glasses of wine! I'm pretty sure I'll be lucky to get away with 4 sips. I'm not much of a drinker and there's so many special dishes to enjoy I don't want to pass out before I eat everything. There's a special matzoh (unleavened bread) that gets hidden at the beginning of the meal. Whoever finds it gets a reward and it has to be found for the meal to end.
I find it every year and the reason for this is that I'm the one who hides it.
Allegedly the person sitting at the head of the table pays the reward. Ha! I make EVERYONE pay. Cowboy says that's not the way it's supposed to be. Excuse me! My house, my table, my food, my cooking, my rules. Pay up! I accept all kinds of chocolate and if you're foolish enough not to bring me a bribe before you arrive, please remember I will hunt you down to get you to make good on the I.O.U. When it comes to chocolate, I take no prisoners and I prefer imported...
"SAR!"
Tsk.
So... back to Easter.
It's chocolate bunny and jellybean time.
~sigh~
Does it get any better than this?
One year, Cowboy brought this HUGE Easter basket home before Easter. It had a humonguous chocolate bunny in it and naturally, I assumed it was for me. So I ate the ears and I didn't want the animals to nose it so I put the cellophane back around the entire basket.
"SAR!"
Jeez. I bet they heard him all the way to Peoria.
"You ate the ears off the chocolate bunny?" This bit of rhetoric was asked in the form of a roar.
"Gosh, honey. Ya think?"
SWAT!
Tsk.
His Holiness, indignantly: "I bought that for the children's Easter party at the base."
Me, matter-of-factly: "Looks like you'll have to buy another one."
SWAT!
Tsk.
He brought a chocolate bunny into MY house and expected me to ignore it? Folks... everyone has occasional bouts of stupid-itis, even Admirals.
So... since the basket was now all mine - possession is 9/10ths of the law, etc., I decided to stash the rest of the bunny away and eat it at my leisure when the giant squid's glare was aimed elsewhere.
I'm on my hands and knees in the upstairs hall closet rearranging things so I can put the basket behind stuff and the basket tips over and... VOILA! There are jellybeans under the basket grass!
Oh joy!
Black jellybeans are my favorite and I needed to eat all those, so I did. My next favorite are the sweet white ones, ate those, too. The rest can wait for a while. Orange and yellow and purple and dark green and pink. All good but then I discovered light green ones - apple green... swoon Was really enjoying my sugar high when I happened to glance up and would you believe it! The giant squid is leaning against the closet door and watching me!
His Holiness is 6 feet, 5 inches tall and weighs 235 lbs. I don't know how many stone that is but I bet it's a HUGE boulder. When I'm standing next to him, he's tall. When I'm sitting on the floor and he's standing, he's Paul Bunyan! When I'm sitting on the floor and eating something he doesn't want me to eat... and he's standing... he's a giant paddle!
Oy.
Doomed.
SWAT!
Tsk.
Years later, I still eat the ears off of any chocolate bunny that makes it to my house. I still eat all the black and white jellybeans and ever since that children's Easter party at the navy base... where a lot of the children's chocolate bunnies were missing ears... I haven't been invited back.
Tsk.
"I don't want you eating all that chocolate this year," he told me the other day.
"Uh huh."
"I mean it, Sar."
"I hear you."
So... I only ate the ears and was it my fault the basket he brought home had six bunnies in it?
It's a good thing I ordered that new carpet. I have a feeling I'm going to get a really close look at it any day now.
Tsk.
~Sar~
Sometimes - if His Holiness isn't in sight - I leave everything on the countertops and go out onto the deck.
"SAR!"
Sometimes he catches me.
It's still a bit cool out in the morning and I have difficulty sniffling quietly. I'm certain it's allergies and nothing else.
I'm making a honey baked ham for Easter dinner with all the trimmings. I've already made enough peach cobbler to feed an army (if you'll excuse the expression) and just in case the giant squid refuses to share the cobbler, I baked a cheesecake and two pineapple upsidedown cakes and they're in the fridge and only need to be warmed up if we need them. When I make cobbler, I really make cobbler. None of this wimpy baking dishes with dough on the bottom, filling in the middle and strips of dough on top. I make individual cobblers that look like small pumpkins and when you put your spoon into the crust, oooo delicious peach stuff inside. I make sure Cowboy has eaten about half of one before I subtly mention the Visa bill or the new carpeting I ordered for our bedroom.
(When you get an up-close-and-personal look at it as often as I do... it's gets old fast.)
Passover comes first and I've already got a few things ready for that dinner. We're having 20 guests and I don't want to have to rush. The traditional Passover dinner includes FOUR glasses of wine! I'm pretty sure I'll be lucky to get away with 4 sips. I'm not much of a drinker and there's so many special dishes to enjoy I don't want to pass out before I eat everything. There's a special matzoh (unleavened bread) that gets hidden at the beginning of the meal. Whoever finds it gets a reward and it has to be found for the meal to end.
I find it every year and the reason for this is that I'm the one who hides it.
Allegedly the person sitting at the head of the table pays the reward. Ha! I make EVERYONE pay. Cowboy says that's not the way it's supposed to be. Excuse me! My house, my table, my food, my cooking, my rules. Pay up! I accept all kinds of chocolate and if you're foolish enough not to bring me a bribe before you arrive, please remember I will hunt you down to get you to make good on the I.O.U. When it comes to chocolate, I take no prisoners and I prefer imported...
"SAR!"
Tsk.
So... back to Easter.
It's chocolate bunny and jellybean time.
~sigh~
Does it get any better than this?
One year, Cowboy brought this HUGE Easter basket home before Easter. It had a humonguous chocolate bunny in it and naturally, I assumed it was for me. So I ate the ears and I didn't want the animals to nose it so I put the cellophane back around the entire basket.
"SAR!"
Jeez. I bet they heard him all the way to Peoria.
"You ate the ears off the chocolate bunny?" This bit of rhetoric was asked in the form of a roar.
"Gosh, honey. Ya think?"
SWAT!
Tsk.
His Holiness, indignantly: "I bought that for the children's Easter party at the base."
Me, matter-of-factly: "Looks like you'll have to buy another one."
SWAT!
Tsk.
He brought a chocolate bunny into MY house and expected me to ignore it? Folks... everyone has occasional bouts of stupid-itis, even Admirals.
So... since the basket was now all mine - possession is 9/10ths of the law, etc., I decided to stash the rest of the bunny away and eat it at my leisure when the giant squid's glare was aimed elsewhere.
I'm on my hands and knees in the upstairs hall closet rearranging things so I can put the basket behind stuff and the basket tips over and... VOILA! There are jellybeans under the basket grass!
Oh joy!
Black jellybeans are my favorite and I needed to eat all those, so I did. My next favorite are the sweet white ones, ate those, too. The rest can wait for a while. Orange and yellow and purple and dark green and pink. All good but then I discovered light green ones - apple green... swoon Was really enjoying my sugar high when I happened to glance up and would you believe it! The giant squid is leaning against the closet door and watching me!
His Holiness is 6 feet, 5 inches tall and weighs 235 lbs. I don't know how many stone that is but I bet it's a HUGE boulder. When I'm standing next to him, he's tall. When I'm sitting on the floor and he's standing, he's Paul Bunyan! When I'm sitting on the floor and eating something he doesn't want me to eat... and he's standing... he's a giant paddle!
Oy.
Doomed.
SWAT!
Tsk.
Years later, I still eat the ears off of any chocolate bunny that makes it to my house. I still eat all the black and white jellybeans and ever since that children's Easter party at the navy base... where a lot of the children's chocolate bunnies were missing ears... I haven't been invited back.
Tsk.
"I don't want you eating all that chocolate this year," he told me the other day.
"Uh huh."
"I mean it, Sar."
"I hear you."
So... I only ate the ears and was it my fault the basket he brought home had six bunnies in it?
It's a good thing I ordered that new carpet. I have a feeling I'm going to get a really close look at it any day now.
Tsk.
~Sar~
Saturday, April 01, 2006
The Real Facts
About that jury summons...
There is no way on God's green earth I'm going to be awake before the sun comes up. If it's dark out - it's nighttime. If it's nighttime - I'm asleep. I don't know why I set the alarm clock. I'm not even sure why we have one - the giant squid has an internal clock. He'll wake me up.
So I'm pretty sure dawn happened. Don't remember anything else until His Holiness shoves a cup of coffee into my hands and waves a hot cinnamon bun under my nose. We're parked in a public garage somewhere - I have clothes on instead of jammies and there's a hot cinnamon bun in front of my mouth.
Time to wake up.
I don't ask questions as to how, when, where and why because I don't want to hear the answers and there's a chance the man will start to lecture. I abhor lectures and don't see any reason to listen to them so whenever he gets wound up, I write stories in my head and mumble "uh-huh" at regular intervals.
I'm at the justice building and have to go through security. Put my shoulder bag in the x-ray machine and hope it doesn't zap gamma rays all over my Twinkies. I brought Butterfingers and Heath bars - really don't want gamma rays all over my chocolate. I also brought a paperback novel to read and covered it with a very explicit book cover - pages from the Kama Sutra. That should keep all the old ladies away from me.
A judge comes out to give us the patriotic speech about serving on a jury and he tells judge jokes. He was awful. He tried so hard to be funny and I felt bad for him so when he finally stopped talking, I offered him a Twinkie which he took and ate and I thought... I wonder what he eats when he sits on the bench.
People from all walks of life are called for jury duty. Most of them look like you and me. A few dress like they got their clothes from the "reject" bin at the Salvation Army. Some have definitely not bathed in a while and a heck of a lot of people were very interested in my Twinkies. I stood near the door in case I needed to make a fast getaway.
People watching is a favorite pastime. I like details and I made notes about what I saw - how folks looked, dressed, moved. Good research for my stories. Picking one's nose in public is absolutely gross. Scratching one's privates is disconcerting and really laughable. Do these people think no one sees them? This is better than MTV. One very large lady was dressed in red. Red dress, red sweater, red shoes, red scarf around her neck, red band on her wristwatch and red handbag. Her hair was red, too, but it was orange red and clashed with her red outfit. She looked like one of those "when I'm an old lady, I shall wear a purple dress and a red hat." When she saw what I was reading - Kama Sutra - she asked if I had read the story of "O." I'm still chuckling over that.
A bunch of us were asked to fill out a form about how we felt about sexual assault. There were a few yes/no questions and a few "fill in what you think" spots. I wrote what I thought. If guilty, hand him a paper bag to carry his dangly bits in and when do we break for lunch? If I'm hungry I won't be able to concentrate.
Called Cowboy to pick me up and we went out for a nice meal. It was Greek cuisine. Delish! I ate all the good parts and slept on the way home. Cowboy said I should go to bed early because I had to go back to the courthouse so I cut the evening short and tried to sleep. That didn't work. Got up and made a banana split and darned if the big guy didn't want some. He helped himself! Then I got a swat for getting out of bed! A swat!
Tsk!
Fell asleep around 2 a.m. and woke up in the same place we were yesterday. I wonder how he does that. I was dressed all proper and even had shoes on. As soon as I arrived, the lady in red was still in red and asked me for a Twinkie.
Tsk.
I heard a few horror stories about being selected for a jury and because all the cases were criminal, some had been sequestered. That sounds horrible! Who would keep me in Twinkies? If I suffered withdrawal I'd hang the defendant just to get a sugar high. Cowboy said it was a good thing they didn't choose me. As it turns out, the case ended with a plea bargain - whatever that means - and we were dismissed early. I'm not sure if I'm thrilled about that or disappointed I wasn't selected. I'm sure I could have added something memorable to the proceedings.
Double tsk.
I read in the New York Times that this is "Asia" Week. Oh joy! That means Chinese takeout! And Thai food and Pho at the Vietnamese restaurant where "Phuck" is on the menu. I forget what that means in Vietnamese but I have to order it just to say it. And more Chinese and tempura at the Japanese restaurant. We also have a Korean restaurant. No idea what they serve but we'll have to try it.
Cowboy said we'd order Chinese takeout one night and that was that. Hmm... Slipped into this wonderful kimono he brought me from Japan and I think we'll be having more than one takeout meal sent home this week.
I read what he posted. He likes to sound like a big bad meanie but between you and me, he's putty in my hands. I can get him to do anything.
SWAT!
Tsk.
Did you know that Passover and Easter are in the same week this year? Oh joy! Two huge holiday meals - going to cook and bake for both of them. I really love holiday meals - don't care whose holiday it is - there's bound to be something I'm going to love. I usually make a cheesecake for Easter dinner dessert along with a pineapple upside down cake. I told His Holiness this year I would make peach cobbler instead...
He said he didn't want to wear me out before I made those meals so maybe we *will* celebrate Asia week with Chinese takeout more than once or twice.
Grin!
See! Told you!
SWAT!
Double tsk!
~Sar~
There is no way on God's green earth I'm going to be awake before the sun comes up. If it's dark out - it's nighttime. If it's nighttime - I'm asleep. I don't know why I set the alarm clock. I'm not even sure why we have one - the giant squid has an internal clock. He'll wake me up.
So I'm pretty sure dawn happened. Don't remember anything else until His Holiness shoves a cup of coffee into my hands and waves a hot cinnamon bun under my nose. We're parked in a public garage somewhere - I have clothes on instead of jammies and there's a hot cinnamon bun in front of my mouth.
Time to wake up.
I don't ask questions as to how, when, where and why because I don't want to hear the answers and there's a chance the man will start to lecture. I abhor lectures and don't see any reason to listen to them so whenever he gets wound up, I write stories in my head and mumble "uh-huh" at regular intervals.
I'm at the justice building and have to go through security. Put my shoulder bag in the x-ray machine and hope it doesn't zap gamma rays all over my Twinkies. I brought Butterfingers and Heath bars - really don't want gamma rays all over my chocolate. I also brought a paperback novel to read and covered it with a very explicit book cover - pages from the Kama Sutra. That should keep all the old ladies away from me.
A judge comes out to give us the patriotic speech about serving on a jury and he tells judge jokes. He was awful. He tried so hard to be funny and I felt bad for him so when he finally stopped talking, I offered him a Twinkie which he took and ate and I thought... I wonder what he eats when he sits on the bench.
People from all walks of life are called for jury duty. Most of them look like you and me. A few dress like they got their clothes from the "reject" bin at the Salvation Army. Some have definitely not bathed in a while and a heck of a lot of people were very interested in my Twinkies. I stood near the door in case I needed to make a fast getaway.
People watching is a favorite pastime. I like details and I made notes about what I saw - how folks looked, dressed, moved. Good research for my stories. Picking one's nose in public is absolutely gross. Scratching one's privates is disconcerting and really laughable. Do these people think no one sees them? This is better than MTV. One very large lady was dressed in red. Red dress, red sweater, red shoes, red scarf around her neck, red band on her wristwatch and red handbag. Her hair was red, too, but it was orange red and clashed with her red outfit. She looked like one of those "when I'm an old lady, I shall wear a purple dress and a red hat." When she saw what I was reading - Kama Sutra - she asked if I had read the story of "O." I'm still chuckling over that.
A bunch of us were asked to fill out a form about how we felt about sexual assault. There were a few yes/no questions and a few "fill in what you think" spots. I wrote what I thought. If guilty, hand him a paper bag to carry his dangly bits in and when do we break for lunch? If I'm hungry I won't be able to concentrate.
Called Cowboy to pick me up and we went out for a nice meal. It was Greek cuisine. Delish! I ate all the good parts and slept on the way home. Cowboy said I should go to bed early because I had to go back to the courthouse so I cut the evening short and tried to sleep. That didn't work. Got up and made a banana split and darned if the big guy didn't want some. He helped himself! Then I got a swat for getting out of bed! A swat!
Tsk!
Fell asleep around 2 a.m. and woke up in the same place we were yesterday. I wonder how he does that. I was dressed all proper and even had shoes on. As soon as I arrived, the lady in red was still in red and asked me for a Twinkie.
Tsk.
I heard a few horror stories about being selected for a jury and because all the cases were criminal, some had been sequestered. That sounds horrible! Who would keep me in Twinkies? If I suffered withdrawal I'd hang the defendant just to get a sugar high. Cowboy said it was a good thing they didn't choose me. As it turns out, the case ended with a plea bargain - whatever that means - and we were dismissed early. I'm not sure if I'm thrilled about that or disappointed I wasn't selected. I'm sure I could have added something memorable to the proceedings.
Double tsk.
I read in the New York Times that this is "Asia" Week. Oh joy! That means Chinese takeout! And Thai food and Pho at the Vietnamese restaurant where "Phuck" is on the menu. I forget what that means in Vietnamese but I have to order it just to say it. And more Chinese and tempura at the Japanese restaurant. We also have a Korean restaurant. No idea what they serve but we'll have to try it.
Cowboy said we'd order Chinese takeout one night and that was that. Hmm... Slipped into this wonderful kimono he brought me from Japan and I think we'll be having more than one takeout meal sent home this week.
I read what he posted. He likes to sound like a big bad meanie but between you and me, he's putty in my hands. I can get him to do anything.
SWAT!
Tsk.
Did you know that Passover and Easter are in the same week this year? Oh joy! Two huge holiday meals - going to cook and bake for both of them. I really love holiday meals - don't care whose holiday it is - there's bound to be something I'm going to love. I usually make a cheesecake for Easter dinner dessert along with a pineapple upside down cake. I told His Holiness this year I would make peach cobbler instead...
He said he didn't want to wear me out before I made those meals so maybe we *will* celebrate Asia week with Chinese takeout more than once or twice.
Grin!
See! Told you!
SWAT!
Double tsk!
~Sar~
Friday, March 31, 2006
The Facts
A couple days ago Sar had to appear for her jury summons. To get to the justice center in time, she had to be up by 0500 hours. My wife is not a morning person.
She set the alarm but from past experience I know it will wake her, she will turn it off and go right back to sleep. I'm generally up by 0515 hours so I woke her when I got up.
Wild horses--
Took her into the shower with me. Let me just say that Sar is probably the only person on the planet who can stand under a hard shower spray and fall back to sleep. If she wasn't leaning on me she probably would have slipped to the floor and curled up and slept despite the water beating down.
Got her dried off and dressed presentably. She slept through the whole thing.
She had planned to drive down to the justice center but even after forcing a bit of coffee down her throat, she was still in dreamland. Made arrangements to take care of some matters in downtown Seattle which is about halfway between our home and where she had to be. Tucked her into the car and drove her down there myself. Two hours later we pull up in front of the justice center and Sar wakes up. I get some coffee and muffins into her and park the car and am gratified that she can walk into the building under her own steam.
I ask her if she's awake. She says of course she is and why would I ask. I know better than to tell her. I roll my eyes. Sar says I need a couth boost.
I watch her go through security and tell her to have a good day and to call me when she's dismissed for the day. I don't think she heard me. She was already unwrapping a Twinkie as she got in the elevator to go to her assigned room.
She calls me in the middle of the day to say that a judge gave the jury orientation and he told a lot of jokes. Sar said he needs to keep his day job - none were funny and no one laughed. She offered him a Twinkie when he finished speaking and he took it. This does not bode well for the justice system.
She was selected with a pool of 50 others to fill out a questionnaire. A panel of 12 will be chosen from that pool. The case was sexual misconduct and Sar wanted to know what kind of sexual misconduct. She said she asked if it was rape, attempted rape, something else? I told her I hoped she didn't ask if it was kinky sex like spanking. Her immediate reply was we're kinky? Cool!
I pick her up an hour or so later. The attorneys have to go over the questionnaire and she's dismissed until the next day. She's already eaten an entire box of Twinkies, a couple of candy bars and now she's ready for lunch. It's a little late for lunch but there's a small Greek restaurant in the area I've been meaning to try and they're open all day so we go there.
Did I ever mention my wife weighs a bit over 100 lbs? That's about 7 stone. I don't know where she puts all that food but trust me when I say if you're eating at our table you better help yourself before she consumes all the good stuff.
We get the mixed Greek platter so we can sample everything and as soon as Sar tastes something she really likes, she tries to take my portion after she eats hers. I give up trying to keep some for myself but I let the waitress know to start packing an order to take home. Eventually, I'm going to get to eat more than Greek salad.
Greek salad. Sar eats the feta cheese and some lettuce with pita bread and dumps the rest of it onto my plate. I tell her I'm gonna spank her when we get home. She rolls her eyes and I laugh. I love to watch her eat. A woman with that kind of appetite has an appetite for more intimate things and I am a very lucky man.
Dessert is Greek cookies and Baklava and a special kind of rice pudding. Sar orders all of it and when she can't eat another bite, I pay the fairly large check. She sleeps all the way home.
The next day is a repeat. I get up at 0500 hours, get her dressed and while she sleeps, I drive her down to the justice center. She calls me about an hour later. The case was dismissed and her civic duty is complete. I can't pick her up for at least an hour and she says that's ok, she's gonna check out the shops across from the justice center. I don't have to ask where she'll be. If there's a food establishment in the shopping district, that's where I'll find her.
I find her in the bakery-coffee shop drinking a latte and sharing a table with an elderly man wearing a baker's apron. They're swapping recipes and both of them seem to be having a good time. Sar is taking bites out of a big array of pastries and commenting. The old guy is beaming. Good thing I'm already married to this gal or she might run away with this man.
I'm not disappointed she wasn't chosen for the jury panel. When attorneys ask prospective jurors particular questions, I think most answer honestly and with courtesy. Sar would be honest in her answers but she speaks from her gut. "Cut off his balls!" is not an acceptable answer to what to do with someone found guilty of sexual misconduct.
The justice system has no idea they just dodged a bullet.
Cowboy
She set the alarm but from past experience I know it will wake her, she will turn it off and go right back to sleep. I'm generally up by 0515 hours so I woke her when I got up.
Wild horses--
Took her into the shower with me. Let me just say that Sar is probably the only person on the planet who can stand under a hard shower spray and fall back to sleep. If she wasn't leaning on me she probably would have slipped to the floor and curled up and slept despite the water beating down.
Got her dried off and dressed presentably. She slept through the whole thing.
She had planned to drive down to the justice center but even after forcing a bit of coffee down her throat, she was still in dreamland. Made arrangements to take care of some matters in downtown Seattle which is about halfway between our home and where she had to be. Tucked her into the car and drove her down there myself. Two hours later we pull up in front of the justice center and Sar wakes up. I get some coffee and muffins into her and park the car and am gratified that she can walk into the building under her own steam.
I ask her if she's awake. She says of course she is and why would I ask. I know better than to tell her. I roll my eyes. Sar says I need a couth boost.
I watch her go through security and tell her to have a good day and to call me when she's dismissed for the day. I don't think she heard me. She was already unwrapping a Twinkie as she got in the elevator to go to her assigned room.
She calls me in the middle of the day to say that a judge gave the jury orientation and he told a lot of jokes. Sar said he needs to keep his day job - none were funny and no one laughed. She offered him a Twinkie when he finished speaking and he took it. This does not bode well for the justice system.
She was selected with a pool of 50 others to fill out a questionnaire. A panel of 12 will be chosen from that pool. The case was sexual misconduct and Sar wanted to know what kind of sexual misconduct. She said she asked if it was rape, attempted rape, something else? I told her I hoped she didn't ask if it was kinky sex like spanking. Her immediate reply was we're kinky? Cool!
I pick her up an hour or so later. The attorneys have to go over the questionnaire and she's dismissed until the next day. She's already eaten an entire box of Twinkies, a couple of candy bars and now she's ready for lunch. It's a little late for lunch but there's a small Greek restaurant in the area I've been meaning to try and they're open all day so we go there.
Did I ever mention my wife weighs a bit over 100 lbs? That's about 7 stone. I don't know where she puts all that food but trust me when I say if you're eating at our table you better help yourself before she consumes all the good stuff.
We get the mixed Greek platter so we can sample everything and as soon as Sar tastes something she really likes, she tries to take my portion after she eats hers. I give up trying to keep some for myself but I let the waitress know to start packing an order to take home. Eventually, I'm going to get to eat more than Greek salad.
Greek salad. Sar eats the feta cheese and some lettuce with pita bread and dumps the rest of it onto my plate. I tell her I'm gonna spank her when we get home. She rolls her eyes and I laugh. I love to watch her eat. A woman with that kind of appetite has an appetite for more intimate things and I am a very lucky man.
Dessert is Greek cookies and Baklava and a special kind of rice pudding. Sar orders all of it and when she can't eat another bite, I pay the fairly large check. She sleeps all the way home.
The next day is a repeat. I get up at 0500 hours, get her dressed and while she sleeps, I drive her down to the justice center. She calls me about an hour later. The case was dismissed and her civic duty is complete. I can't pick her up for at least an hour and she says that's ok, she's gonna check out the shops across from the justice center. I don't have to ask where she'll be. If there's a food establishment in the shopping district, that's where I'll find her.
I find her in the bakery-coffee shop drinking a latte and sharing a table with an elderly man wearing a baker's apron. They're swapping recipes and both of them seem to be having a good time. Sar is taking bites out of a big array of pastries and commenting. The old guy is beaming. Good thing I'm already married to this gal or she might run away with this man.
I'm not disappointed she wasn't chosen for the jury panel. When attorneys ask prospective jurors particular questions, I think most answer honestly and with courtesy. Sar would be honest in her answers but she speaks from her gut. "Cut off his balls!" is not an acceptable answer to what to do with someone found guilty of sexual misconduct.
The justice system has no idea they just dodged a bullet.
Cowboy
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
Maintenance
No, no, not maintenance spankings. How crass!
If you've been trying to get to my story website and/or drool over the pics of my beautiful babies... the links aren't currently working. The reason is that 50.megs - my host server is down for maintenance. If they're not back up tomorrow, I shall investigate the problem and drop you another note.
Worn out from my first day of jury duty - nothing earth shattering going on there and I hope it stays that way.
Thanks for the notes.
~Sar~
If you've been trying to get to my story website and/or drool over the pics of my beautiful babies... the links aren't currently working. The reason is that 50.megs - my host server is down for maintenance. If they're not back up tomorrow, I shall investigate the problem and drop you another note.
Worn out from my first day of jury duty - nothing earth shattering going on there and I hope it stays that way.
Thanks for the notes.
~Sar~
Tuesday, March 21, 2006
Mr. Grumpy!
It's Spring! We're having "Perry Como" skies ("The bluest skies you'll ever see are in Seattle.") The sun is shining, the air is crisp and the temps are in the low 50's F. Crocus is coming up and so are the daffodils and I can see the first green leaves of the tulips popping up everywhere! Woody Woodpecker (red headed bird from the cartoons) has already visited my suet stand and pierced the cat with his steely glare. The cat stared back. Woody visits every year with his mate and their new baby. There's a new saltlick on the side of the house for all the Bambis about to be born and visiting and I'm eager to be in the backyard doing things and enjoying the great outdoors.
"Grass is wet, bambina. Stay inside today."
Jeez! What a spoil sport.
"Too chilly for you to be working in the yard today. I don't want you to get a sore throat."
Oh for cryin out loud!
"The robins are yanking worms out of the ground. If it's not too cold for those little critters, it's not too cold for me!" So there!
"I know a spot that's gonna get warmed real fast if you defy me."
"Defy you! Who died and made you king of the world?"
SWAT!
Tsk.
When I get the sniffles or God forbid, cough once or twice, the squid goes into commando mode. He morphs into Dr. GooglePuss - so named because he earned his medical degree on Google. He rolls his eyes when I call him Dr. GooglePuss because he says he learned a lot of medical stuff when he was training to be a Seal. Yeah, yeah, and I'm queen of Finland.
Not sure if Finland has a queen but nevertheless...
If I come down with a fever, all hell breaks loose. I get aspirin, cough medicine, and hot tea with honey - all forced down my throat and against my will. I threaten his need for a food taster and he threatens to turn my butt into combustible heat.
I check my forehead - feels okay to me.
He checks my forehead... "You feel a little warm, bambina. Stay inside today."
"Listen up, Squid!"
SWAT!
Tsk.
"I was thinking of making peach cobbler later," I inform the giant squid.
"Make it now. Then you won't have time to think about being out in the yard."
"Nope. Need to be outdoors and then when I come back in, I'll be energized to make the cobbler."
"Any second now I'm gonna be energized to warm your butt."
Tsk. The man has a one-track mind.
"Okay. I'll make cobbler and while you're away today, I'll eat the whole thing by myself."
SWAT!
Tsk.
"Hot cobbler with cold vanilla ice cream... all for me!"
SWAT!
Tsk.
"I need that cobbler, bambina."
"I need to be outdoors for a while."
Do you know that look? The one where Genghis Khan lifts his arm to throw the killing spear? He's on his giant steed and his Fu Manchu mustache twitches with delight and his eyebrows arch and his eyes go all steely and he yells the battle cry.
Oy!
So now I'm looking at the floor from an upside down position and the caveman I live with - a throwback to Neanderthals and maybe pro-magnum creatures - certainly not anything Homo-erectus - is chuckling as he gives me a really hard swat.
"I'll never make peach cobbler again," I yell.
"You'll never sit comfortably in this lifetime if you don't make that peach cobbler."
"Piss-ant!"
SWAT!
"I won't climb any trees, just want to be outside for a while."
"You can fill the bird feeders and then come right back in. Are we clear on this?"
Are we clear? Jeez. I'm upside down; of course we're clear. But wait till I'm back on my feet again.
"Uh-huh."
"Don't make me chase you, bambina."
Oh why not? You might slip or trip and I'd be hard pressed not to laugh.
SWAT!
Tsk. How did he know what I was thinking?
So I went outside and filled the bird feeders and lingered until he made "red hot" threats and when he saw me begin to make the cobbler, he kissed me goodbye and took off for the navy base. From now on, if I get sick I'm not calling him Dr. GooglePuss anymore. Meet the giant squid... also known as Mr. Grumpy.
~Sar~
P.S. The cobbler was ready about an hour later and the pups and I ate it for lunch.
Don't mess with me when I'm queen of Finland.
"Grass is wet, bambina. Stay inside today."
Jeez! What a spoil sport.
"Too chilly for you to be working in the yard today. I don't want you to get a sore throat."
Oh for cryin out loud!
"The robins are yanking worms out of the ground. If it's not too cold for those little critters, it's not too cold for me!" So there!
"I know a spot that's gonna get warmed real fast if you defy me."
"Defy you! Who died and made you king of the world?"
SWAT!
Tsk.
When I get the sniffles or God forbid, cough once or twice, the squid goes into commando mode. He morphs into Dr. GooglePuss - so named because he earned his medical degree on Google. He rolls his eyes when I call him Dr. GooglePuss because he says he learned a lot of medical stuff when he was training to be a Seal. Yeah, yeah, and I'm queen of Finland.
Not sure if Finland has a queen but nevertheless...
If I come down with a fever, all hell breaks loose. I get aspirin, cough medicine, and hot tea with honey - all forced down my throat and against my will. I threaten his need for a food taster and he threatens to turn my butt into combustible heat.
I check my forehead - feels okay to me.
He checks my forehead... "You feel a little warm, bambina. Stay inside today."
"Listen up, Squid!"
SWAT!
Tsk.
"I was thinking of making peach cobbler later," I inform the giant squid.
"Make it now. Then you won't have time to think about being out in the yard."
"Nope. Need to be outdoors and then when I come back in, I'll be energized to make the cobbler."
"Any second now I'm gonna be energized to warm your butt."
Tsk. The man has a one-track mind.
"Okay. I'll make cobbler and while you're away today, I'll eat the whole thing by myself."
SWAT!
Tsk.
"Hot cobbler with cold vanilla ice cream... all for me!"
SWAT!
Tsk.
"I need that cobbler, bambina."
"I need to be outdoors for a while."
Do you know that look? The one where Genghis Khan lifts his arm to throw the killing spear? He's on his giant steed and his Fu Manchu mustache twitches with delight and his eyebrows arch and his eyes go all steely and he yells the battle cry.
Oy!
So now I'm looking at the floor from an upside down position and the caveman I live with - a throwback to Neanderthals and maybe pro-magnum creatures - certainly not anything Homo-erectus - is chuckling as he gives me a really hard swat.
"I'll never make peach cobbler again," I yell.
"You'll never sit comfortably in this lifetime if you don't make that peach cobbler."
"Piss-ant!"
SWAT!
"I won't climb any trees, just want to be outside for a while."
"You can fill the bird feeders and then come right back in. Are we clear on this?"
Are we clear? Jeez. I'm upside down; of course we're clear. But wait till I'm back on my feet again.
"Uh-huh."
"Don't make me chase you, bambina."
Oh why not? You might slip or trip and I'd be hard pressed not to laugh.
SWAT!
Tsk. How did he know what I was thinking?
So I went outside and filled the bird feeders and lingered until he made "red hot" threats and when he saw me begin to make the cobbler, he kissed me goodbye and took off for the navy base. From now on, if I get sick I'm not calling him Dr. GooglePuss anymore. Meet the giant squid... also known as Mr. Grumpy.
~Sar~
P.S. The cobbler was ready about an hour later and the pups and I ate it for lunch.
Don't mess with me when I'm queen of Finland.
Wednesday, March 15, 2006
Updating
Never thought I'd be one to blog but Sar's been a bit busy lately and when she started this thing she gave me the url for posting along with her password so I could - in her words - feel free to ramble during my *senior moments.* Oh yeah, gave her a swat for that.
Whenever I am away for a few days the imp reverts to the habits of her life before me. She eats junk and sleeps when her eyes close and lives life in double time. We've been married for a lot of years and she still has that zest for living every day to the fullest that she had when we first met. Translation: doing whatever pleases her. I spend a lot of time slowing her down a bit so she'll have the energy to enjoy another day. About the only way to do that is to keep an arm around her which isn't a bad way to spend a few hours.
So the other night there was a full moon and the imp wants to dance naked in the backyard. This is a monthly event but one I object to in the winter months. The first time I laid eyes on her she was dancing at a benefit for military veterans. It was in DC and I took one look and knew I needed to know more. On that particular occasion she had clothes on. It wasn't until we got a fenced yard that she started dancing without any clothes on. Have to say I didn't object. In the beginning we lived in a wooded area in Virginia. Had a lot of trees and the closest neighbors were a bit away from us. Sat on the back steps and watched this wood nymph dance. It was a beautiful sight. It's still a beautiful sight but I don't want her catching pneumonia.
Sar wears leg warmers when she dances and if it's cold out she adds a wool scarf. Last night after I told her earlier it was too cold for her to be out there dancing, I noticed she added mittens and a wool cap. Naked lady with leg warmers, scarf, mittens and cap. I'm telling you folks this woman could teach Special Forces how to evade the enemy. I put noisemakers on all the doorknobs that lead to the backyard so I know if they are opened - cowbells, mobiles, anything that rings or clacks together - and she still got out the door without my hearing her. On top of that her Rott and Mastiff got out with her without making a sound.
I realize it's too quiet in the house and walk out to the back deck and there she is - dancing like it's 80 degrees - her dogs sitting in the middle of the yard watching her. I take off after her. The dogs get in my way. I order them to sit. They don't listen to me. I consider that insubordination and yell at them. I'm not gonna swear to this but the sounds they made might have been dog laughter.
I chase after her. Her scarf gets caught on one of the evergreens and I get a grip on her arm. That's the end of the dance. I haul her over my shoulder, deliver a couple of good hot swats and pull my sweater off and cover her up. The whole time she is protesting and laughing and wiggling and - ok, she's sexy as hell and all I can think of is getting her in the house and warming that butt and lovin her.
I do all that and have to leave the house early in the morning. Come home about mid morning and Sar is on the back deck with 4 dogs and 2 cats and 2 boxes of twinkies - about 40 twinkies - and an empty gallon of milk. The boxes are empty. Sar is asleep. Her Mastiff is snoring. The 3 Rotts are glass eyed and the 2 cats are doing what cats do - licking their fur. Sugar high. At least she was wearing enough warm clothes. I pick her up to take her in the house - she's waking up and giving me that drunk look she gets when she doesn't remember how she got where she is. I think this is how women achieve an innocent look when you ask them something they don't want to answer. It's a memory thing. I tell her she ate too many twinkies. Sar says there's no such thing as too many. She says the same thing about chocolate. I'm thinking a spanking is about to happen. The rest is none of your business.
Cowboy
Whenever I am away for a few days the imp reverts to the habits of her life before me. She eats junk and sleeps when her eyes close and lives life in double time. We've been married for a lot of years and she still has that zest for living every day to the fullest that she had when we first met. Translation: doing whatever pleases her. I spend a lot of time slowing her down a bit so she'll have the energy to enjoy another day. About the only way to do that is to keep an arm around her which isn't a bad way to spend a few hours.
So the other night there was a full moon and the imp wants to dance naked in the backyard. This is a monthly event but one I object to in the winter months. The first time I laid eyes on her she was dancing at a benefit for military veterans. It was in DC and I took one look and knew I needed to know more. On that particular occasion she had clothes on. It wasn't until we got a fenced yard that she started dancing without any clothes on. Have to say I didn't object. In the beginning we lived in a wooded area in Virginia. Had a lot of trees and the closest neighbors were a bit away from us. Sat on the back steps and watched this wood nymph dance. It was a beautiful sight. It's still a beautiful sight but I don't want her catching pneumonia.
Sar wears leg warmers when she dances and if it's cold out she adds a wool scarf. Last night after I told her earlier it was too cold for her to be out there dancing, I noticed she added mittens and a wool cap. Naked lady with leg warmers, scarf, mittens and cap. I'm telling you folks this woman could teach Special Forces how to evade the enemy. I put noisemakers on all the doorknobs that lead to the backyard so I know if they are opened - cowbells, mobiles, anything that rings or clacks together - and she still got out the door without my hearing her. On top of that her Rott and Mastiff got out with her without making a sound.
I realize it's too quiet in the house and walk out to the back deck and there she is - dancing like it's 80 degrees - her dogs sitting in the middle of the yard watching her. I take off after her. The dogs get in my way. I order them to sit. They don't listen to me. I consider that insubordination and yell at them. I'm not gonna swear to this but the sounds they made might have been dog laughter.
I chase after her. Her scarf gets caught on one of the evergreens and I get a grip on her arm. That's the end of the dance. I haul her over my shoulder, deliver a couple of good hot swats and pull my sweater off and cover her up. The whole time she is protesting and laughing and wiggling and - ok, she's sexy as hell and all I can think of is getting her in the house and warming that butt and lovin her.
I do all that and have to leave the house early in the morning. Come home about mid morning and Sar is on the back deck with 4 dogs and 2 cats and 2 boxes of twinkies - about 40 twinkies - and an empty gallon of milk. The boxes are empty. Sar is asleep. Her Mastiff is snoring. The 3 Rotts are glass eyed and the 2 cats are doing what cats do - licking their fur. Sugar high. At least she was wearing enough warm clothes. I pick her up to take her in the house - she's waking up and giving me that drunk look she gets when she doesn't remember how she got where she is. I think this is how women achieve an innocent look when you ask them something they don't want to answer. It's a memory thing. I tell her she ate too many twinkies. Sar says there's no such thing as too many. She says the same thing about chocolate. I'm thinking a spanking is about to happen. The rest is none of your business.
Cowboy
Thursday, March 09, 2006
I'm Home!
And the imp is in high gear. After the initial hello and missed you and sweet stuff she went straight into "Sar" mode. She probably was already living in the fast lane while I was away and just paused long enough for a reunion. "Sar" mode means she ate junk food the entire time I was away, slept little and jogged far more miles than she should. And if she was feeling those endorphins, she probably "ran" more than she jogged. Running is not good for her. She has weak lungs. Jogging is ok if paced and if she doesn't overdo.
I asked her about that. Naturally she denied any knowledge of running or jogging or anything else. I gave her a couple of swats just for good measure. She called me an anal retentive baboon butthead. That's a compliment - better than a piss-ant which is an annoying creature.
I wanted to know exactly how much rest she got. Sar has bouts of insomnia and if I'm not home to keep her in bed she'll get up and work in her studio all night. Instead of answering my questions she jumped me, hugged me tight, kissed me - very sweet kisses - and did naughty things. She fights dirty and she plays dirty. I'm married to an imp and a seductress and about the time I'm ready to upend her and light a fire where it will do the most good, she's goes and does something that has my heart racing and my hands eager to do other things.
We had some unexpected company for a few days. They just left and the whole time they were here I had the greatest urge to warm the imp's butt. She teased me, touching me on the sly in places she shouldn't touch unless we can follow through. She flashed me when no one was looking - no undies. And when she served a meal she made sure she leaned her soft breasts on my shoulder as she set a plate in front of me. I was ready to grab her and ignore our guests and just have done with it. At night when we were alone in our bedroom, I was painfully aware that our guests were down the hall in the guestroom. I'm not an exhibitionist so while I made "quiet" love to my wife, I could hardly spank her. I made a lot of threats and the imp laughed.
As soon as I post this I'm going out to the backyard, gonna climb that tree she's hiding in, haul her down and over my lap and spank that cute little butt of hers. Yeah, good stuff follows.
Cowboy
I asked her about that. Naturally she denied any knowledge of running or jogging or anything else. I gave her a couple of swats just for good measure. She called me an anal retentive baboon butthead. That's a compliment - better than a piss-ant which is an annoying creature.
I wanted to know exactly how much rest she got. Sar has bouts of insomnia and if I'm not home to keep her in bed she'll get up and work in her studio all night. Instead of answering my questions she jumped me, hugged me tight, kissed me - very sweet kisses - and did naughty things. She fights dirty and she plays dirty. I'm married to an imp and a seductress and about the time I'm ready to upend her and light a fire where it will do the most good, she's goes and does something that has my heart racing and my hands eager to do other things.
We had some unexpected company for a few days. They just left and the whole time they were here I had the greatest urge to warm the imp's butt. She teased me, touching me on the sly in places she shouldn't touch unless we can follow through. She flashed me when no one was looking - no undies. And when she served a meal she made sure she leaned her soft breasts on my shoulder as she set a plate in front of me. I was ready to grab her and ignore our guests and just have done with it. At night when we were alone in our bedroom, I was painfully aware that our guests were down the hall in the guestroom. I'm not an exhibitionist so while I made "quiet" love to my wife, I could hardly spank her. I made a lot of threats and the imp laughed.
As soon as I post this I'm going out to the backyard, gonna climb that tree she's hiding in, haul her down and over my lap and spank that cute little butt of hers. Yeah, good stuff follows.
Cowboy
Thursday, March 02, 2006
Cowboy's Away...
His Holiness is away for a few days. When he left, he admonished me to "behave."
Tsk.
As if I needed reminding. I'm so good it's downright disgusting. On the up side, there isn't a veggie in sight and the pups and I are eating real food - burgers and onion rings and milkshakes and mac and cheese and Twinkies and plenty of chocolate for me, plenty of beer and wine for the pups. The other night, we all got high on our intake of choice and almost passed out on the back deck.
Naturally, that's when the giant squid called to say hello, what are you doing and how come I'm not gonna be happy with the answer.
I don't tolerate obscene or rude phone calls so I hung up on him.
Did you hear him yell? My name, when spoken in a normal conversational tone rhymes with "star" or "far." When spoken softly - as it generally is during loving is more a whisper of desire. However, when roared at an unbelievable volume over the phone lines... sounds more like When I get home, I'm gonna burn your butt!
Double tsk.
This might be a good time for the pups and I to head south. We haven't been down to Oregon in a while and the beach there, in winter, is magnificent - high bluffs, huge winds, nice cozy cabins, and lots of little cafés and shops.
Meanwhile...
I got a jury summons. I don't have to appear until the end of the month and I don't mind doing my patriotic good citizen duty and serving. I live in an unincorporated area so the courthouse is a 2-hour drive away. Commuting 4 hours a day doesn't do a lot for my disposition and I'd be happy to take a motel room just to avoid the traffic but it's in an area I'm unfamiliar with and that makes me a little uncomfortable. So, I'll drive back and forth each day I'm required to be there.
I was summoned to superior court. I have no idea what superior court is - makes one think there must be an "inferior" one below that. Tsk.
I was called for jury duty when we lived in Florida. We lived in the outskirts of Dade County - that's Miami - and that courthouse is on the edge of downtown Miami where parking your car and leaving it for more than 30 seconds insures that all or parts of it will be missing before you can blink an eye.
They herded us into a courtroom after some administrative stuff and the "congratulations! You get to do your civic duty" speech. One by one, an attorney asked us questions. The accused was on trial because while intoxicated, he ran his car over another person who had the gall to die. So the attorney says "do you believe in the death penalty?"
"Hell yes!" I shouted. "Hang the bastard!"
I was dismissed.
I wonder if they would have kept me on if I said, "fry him" instead? Florida has the electric chair, Ol Sparky, I think they call it.
I went back to the common room and read my self-help book, Winning Through Intimidation.
The next case I was interviewed for was rape. They dressed up the accused in really nice clothes and the victim in a pinafore-type dress. It was like watching a really awful "B" movie. If the attorney looked anything like David Niven, I'd have managed to stay alert. The attorney says "if found guilty, what kind of sentence would you consider?"
"Cut off his dangly bits!"
I was dismissed.
Tsk. I really wanted to say cut off his balls but I'm a lady.
Not long after that, the judge in the rape case showed up at the same social function His Holiness and I were attending. When the man saw me, his hand went straight to his crotch! Tsk! Such ungentlemanly behavior.
In a few weeks, I'll let you know how this jury summons went. I did "google" the area around the courthouse and there's a Dairy Queen there. I wonder if one can eat during a trial? I'm bringing plenty of chocolate just in case.
The foster pups are doing great. Oliver, the Mastiff has filled out quite a bit; he likes my beef stew and liver biscuits and he's learned not to sit on me. That's a huge plus since he's the size of a pony.
The Scottish Deerhound - Murdock - is a disgrace to his breed. Bambi and his mom visit the saltlick on the side of the yard regularly. Murdock wants to play with Bambi. It's possible the dog embraces all species but I think he might be a wee bit mentally challenged.
Tuma, the Alaskan Malamute, tries my patience to the limit. He's a prankster and though he's learning to follow both voice and hand signals, he goes deaf and dumb on me whenever the mood strikes. Two nights in a row of kibble cures him for a few days. I may have to sic DomTom, my alpha cat, on him.
Then, there's Archie, the bloodhound. The old fella thinks he's at a spa and lives to be waited on and adored. Both cats adore him. I think the attraction is his ears but whatever it is, both groom him regularly. I reminded him that his nose is vitally important and should be used in a worthwhile manner. He goosed the squid - I considered that very worthwhile.
I think I've mentioned that D.H. Lawrence's lover, Lady Chatterly, lives down the street from me. Her "daddy" is flying in this weekend and she wanted to show me some of her new gladrags. I was happy to see her model them - v-e-r-y sexy stuff. I'm sure her daddy will be thrilled. The male neighbors on either side of her house also got a show; their wives were not so thrilled. Since she moved into the neighborhood, more people own binoculars than ever before.
There's a full moon on the 14th. Traditionally, I dance nude in the backyard to welcome the full moon and especially to celebrate the rites of Spring. I have a very high wooden fence though that doesn't stop my 97-year old neighbor from watching me from his 2nd story window. He has a telescope. Cowboy says Spring doesn't happen till April but I like to practice. With any luck he'll be out of town that night. Otherwise, the dance will be short and/or I'll get warmed up faster than I like when his hand connects with my dancing butt. The man just doesn't appreciate the fine art of dancing. And it's not like I'm completely nude; I wear leg warmers and a long woolen scarf.
~Sar~
Tsk.
As if I needed reminding. I'm so good it's downright disgusting. On the up side, there isn't a veggie in sight and the pups and I are eating real food - burgers and onion rings and milkshakes and mac and cheese and Twinkies and plenty of chocolate for me, plenty of beer and wine for the pups. The other night, we all got high on our intake of choice and almost passed out on the back deck.
Naturally, that's when the giant squid called to say hello, what are you doing and how come I'm not gonna be happy with the answer.
I don't tolerate obscene or rude phone calls so I hung up on him.
Did you hear him yell? My name, when spoken in a normal conversational tone rhymes with "star" or "far." When spoken softly - as it generally is during loving is more a whisper of desire. However, when roared at an unbelievable volume over the phone lines... sounds more like When I get home, I'm gonna burn your butt!
Double tsk.
This might be a good time for the pups and I to head south. We haven't been down to Oregon in a while and the beach there, in winter, is magnificent - high bluffs, huge winds, nice cozy cabins, and lots of little cafés and shops.
Meanwhile...
I got a jury summons. I don't have to appear until the end of the month and I don't mind doing my patriotic good citizen duty and serving. I live in an unincorporated area so the courthouse is a 2-hour drive away. Commuting 4 hours a day doesn't do a lot for my disposition and I'd be happy to take a motel room just to avoid the traffic but it's in an area I'm unfamiliar with and that makes me a little uncomfortable. So, I'll drive back and forth each day I'm required to be there.
I was summoned to superior court. I have no idea what superior court is - makes one think there must be an "inferior" one below that. Tsk.
I was called for jury duty when we lived in Florida. We lived in the outskirts of Dade County - that's Miami - and that courthouse is on the edge of downtown Miami where parking your car and leaving it for more than 30 seconds insures that all or parts of it will be missing before you can blink an eye.
They herded us into a courtroom after some administrative stuff and the "congratulations! You get to do your civic duty" speech. One by one, an attorney asked us questions. The accused was on trial because while intoxicated, he ran his car over another person who had the gall to die. So the attorney says "do you believe in the death penalty?"
"Hell yes!" I shouted. "Hang the bastard!"
I was dismissed.
I wonder if they would have kept me on if I said, "fry him" instead? Florida has the electric chair, Ol Sparky, I think they call it.
I went back to the common room and read my self-help book, Winning Through Intimidation.
The next case I was interviewed for was rape. They dressed up the accused in really nice clothes and the victim in a pinafore-type dress. It was like watching a really awful "B" movie. If the attorney looked anything like David Niven, I'd have managed to stay alert. The attorney says "if found guilty, what kind of sentence would you consider?"
"Cut off his dangly bits!"
I was dismissed.
Tsk. I really wanted to say cut off his balls but I'm a lady.
Not long after that, the judge in the rape case showed up at the same social function His Holiness and I were attending. When the man saw me, his hand went straight to his crotch! Tsk! Such ungentlemanly behavior.
In a few weeks, I'll let you know how this jury summons went. I did "google" the area around the courthouse and there's a Dairy Queen there. I wonder if one can eat during a trial? I'm bringing plenty of chocolate just in case.
The foster pups are doing great. Oliver, the Mastiff has filled out quite a bit; he likes my beef stew and liver biscuits and he's learned not to sit on me. That's a huge plus since he's the size of a pony.
The Scottish Deerhound - Murdock - is a disgrace to his breed. Bambi and his mom visit the saltlick on the side of the yard regularly. Murdock wants to play with Bambi. It's possible the dog embraces all species but I think he might be a wee bit mentally challenged.
Tuma, the Alaskan Malamute, tries my patience to the limit. He's a prankster and though he's learning to follow both voice and hand signals, he goes deaf and dumb on me whenever the mood strikes. Two nights in a row of kibble cures him for a few days. I may have to sic DomTom, my alpha cat, on him.
Then, there's Archie, the bloodhound. The old fella thinks he's at a spa and lives to be waited on and adored. Both cats adore him. I think the attraction is his ears but whatever it is, both groom him regularly. I reminded him that his nose is vitally important and should be used in a worthwhile manner. He goosed the squid - I considered that very worthwhile.
I think I've mentioned that D.H. Lawrence's lover, Lady Chatterly, lives down the street from me. Her "daddy" is flying in this weekend and she wanted to show me some of her new gladrags. I was happy to see her model them - v-e-r-y sexy stuff. I'm sure her daddy will be thrilled. The male neighbors on either side of her house also got a show; their wives were not so thrilled. Since she moved into the neighborhood, more people own binoculars than ever before.
There's a full moon on the 14th. Traditionally, I dance nude in the backyard to welcome the full moon and especially to celebrate the rites of Spring. I have a very high wooden fence though that doesn't stop my 97-year old neighbor from watching me from his 2nd story window. He has a telescope. Cowboy says Spring doesn't happen till April but I like to practice. With any luck he'll be out of town that night. Otherwise, the dance will be short and/or I'll get warmed up faster than I like when his hand connects with my dancing butt. The man just doesn't appreciate the fine art of dancing. And it's not like I'm completely nude; I wear leg warmers and a long woolen scarf.
~Sar~
Saturday, February 25, 2006
Tofu, Tomatoes & Twinkies
February is winding down; I hate to see it end. We've had an absolutely glorious month filled with good food, lots of chocolate, amazing "stuff," and lots of extra special times. We've been swing dancing, tango-ing at a supper club, rode the dinner train that goes through the Cascade Mountain Range, spent a weekend at Whistler's Lodge in British Columbia, and had several memorable sleigh rides. I know you'll be amazed to hear that one can be very naughty under cover of a lap robe on a sleigh. It seems I'm more flexible than I realized.
I have new lingerie and the giant squid has a much finer appreciation for bits of silk and satin and lace. Several nights in a row he decided he didn't need a cardio workout the next day. LOL (However, our water bill is exceptionally high this month.)
A couple dropped by a few nights ago - we've known them for years. They're not close friends but acquaintances we see once in a while.
He's a smoker - Strike One!
She's a vegetarian - Strike Two!
I save green things for her to eat and if she shows up before they turn into science experiments in the refrigerator, fine. If not, she sticks to cheese and crackers or buttered toast. Tsk.
Cowboy says I could easily whip up a veggie and dip platter when they show up if I didn't constantly throw the veggies to the crows. Uh huh. I told him I could do that but the crows were depending on me.
SWAT!
Tsk.
The guy is a chain smoker. He has to do without nicotine while in my house or smoke on the back deck. I don't give an inch on this. Bad enough he stinks like a chimney. Cowboy goes out with him so the guy can have a cigarette. I'm stuck with Ms.GreenBeans who wants to know how I can possibly eat meat...
Er... with a knife and fork and A-1 sauce, although if I'm starving and no one is watching and especially if it's filet mignon, I pick that sucker up and dip it in sauce and eat it with my fingers.
"But... but... that's what the dogs do!" she postulates.
"No... the dogs don't have fingers and they skip the A-1 sauce."
"You should stock soy foods and tofu for your vegan guests like me," she lectures.
"The only soy food I have is soy sauce and tofu is not something I want my pups exposed to," I tell her. "I have standards." I say this as I open a box of Twinkies for my babies. All my pets love Twinkies - even the cats come running.
She drones on about tofu and my mind wanders to other more mouth watering delicacies - Twinkies dipped in melted chocolate, Twinkies in melted caramel and fried. swoon Twinkies instead of bananas in a banana split...
"What?" I just realized Ms.GreenBeans asked me a question.
"I said, did you know that tofu comes from Japan?"
"Well, that's earth shattering news," I say. "Aren't they the same folks that slaughter whales?"
Naturally, His Holiness comes back into the house as I make that pronouncement.
SWAT!
Tsk.
"I'd consider buying tofu if they'd leave the whales alone."
SWAT!
Tsk.
Fun-Gooch!
SWAT!
Tsk.
Do you sense a pattern here?
Fortunately they leave before I stuff Ms.GreenBeans' face in A-1 sauce.
"I want you to have some vegetables on hand when they come over next time," the giant squid frowns as he watches me share Twinkies with the 4-legged family members.
"Sure," I'm agreeable. "What do you think she'd like? Tomatoes, cucumbers or green peppers? Do ya suppose she eats them whole or likes to cut them into small pieces?"
SWAT!
Tsk.
"Just for that, I'll give her raw asparagus and Brussels sprouts," I shout as I flee from the room, the dogs following me since I've got the rest of the Twinkies in my hands.
"Gonna warm your butt," the giant squid yells as he gives chase.
"You and what Army?"
"ARMY?"
For some reason, Naval officers are very sensitive about being lumped with other branches of the military. They're especially sensitive about the Army.
He caught me.
Just as the wrath of doom was about to descend, I reminded him what we did with plum tomatoes one afternoon when we had too much wine and lots of time and I had to change the bed linens anyway. The spanking was brief and sweet and stuff ensued and I really should write a snippet about those plum tomatoes. Every time I see them in the grocery store, I giggle and the giant squid whispers how he's gonna turn my butt tomato red if I don't buy some and do what I did that wild wicked afternoon.
I'm so pleased he appreciates my creativity.
~Sar~
I have new lingerie and the giant squid has a much finer appreciation for bits of silk and satin and lace. Several nights in a row he decided he didn't need a cardio workout the next day. LOL (However, our water bill is exceptionally high this month.)
A couple dropped by a few nights ago - we've known them for years. They're not close friends but acquaintances we see once in a while.
He's a smoker - Strike One!
She's a vegetarian - Strike Two!
I save green things for her to eat and if she shows up before they turn into science experiments in the refrigerator, fine. If not, she sticks to cheese and crackers or buttered toast. Tsk.
Cowboy says I could easily whip up a veggie and dip platter when they show up if I didn't constantly throw the veggies to the crows. Uh huh. I told him I could do that but the crows were depending on me.
SWAT!
Tsk.
The guy is a chain smoker. He has to do without nicotine while in my house or smoke on the back deck. I don't give an inch on this. Bad enough he stinks like a chimney. Cowboy goes out with him so the guy can have a cigarette. I'm stuck with Ms.GreenBeans who wants to know how I can possibly eat meat...
Er... with a knife and fork and A-1 sauce, although if I'm starving and no one is watching and especially if it's filet mignon, I pick that sucker up and dip it in sauce and eat it with my fingers.
"But... but... that's what the dogs do!" she postulates.
"No... the dogs don't have fingers and they skip the A-1 sauce."
"You should stock soy foods and tofu for your vegan guests like me," she lectures.
"The only soy food I have is soy sauce and tofu is not something I want my pups exposed to," I tell her. "I have standards." I say this as I open a box of Twinkies for my babies. All my pets love Twinkies - even the cats come running.
She drones on about tofu and my mind wanders to other more mouth watering delicacies - Twinkies dipped in melted chocolate, Twinkies in melted caramel and fried. swoon Twinkies instead of bananas in a banana split...
"What?" I just realized Ms.GreenBeans asked me a question.
"I said, did you know that tofu comes from Japan?"
"Well, that's earth shattering news," I say. "Aren't they the same folks that slaughter whales?"
Naturally, His Holiness comes back into the house as I make that pronouncement.
SWAT!
Tsk.
"I'd consider buying tofu if they'd leave the whales alone."
SWAT!
Tsk.
Fun-Gooch!
SWAT!
Tsk.
Do you sense a pattern here?
Fortunately they leave before I stuff Ms.GreenBeans' face in A-1 sauce.
"I want you to have some vegetables on hand when they come over next time," the giant squid frowns as he watches me share Twinkies with the 4-legged family members.
"Sure," I'm agreeable. "What do you think she'd like? Tomatoes, cucumbers or green peppers? Do ya suppose she eats them whole or likes to cut them into small pieces?"
SWAT!
Tsk.
"Just for that, I'll give her raw asparagus and Brussels sprouts," I shout as I flee from the room, the dogs following me since I've got the rest of the Twinkies in my hands.
"Gonna warm your butt," the giant squid yells as he gives chase.
"You and what Army?"
"ARMY?"
For some reason, Naval officers are very sensitive about being lumped with other branches of the military. They're especially sensitive about the Army.
He caught me.
Just as the wrath of doom was about to descend, I reminded him what we did with plum tomatoes one afternoon when we had too much wine and lots of time and I had to change the bed linens anyway. The spanking was brief and sweet and stuff ensued and I really should write a snippet about those plum tomatoes. Every time I see them in the grocery store, I giggle and the giant squid whispers how he's gonna turn my butt tomato red if I don't buy some and do what I did that wild wicked afternoon.
I'm so pleased he appreciates my creativity.
~Sar~
Sunday, February 19, 2006
February Creativity
It's still February, of course, and His Holiness and I continue to make this month a memorable one. I get creative and do things that should bring a normal man to his knees. It seems His Holiness isn't normal - mostly, he laughs at my shenanigans and sometimes, the wretch catches me up under his arm and delivers a swat or two!
Tsk! And I try so hard, too. For example, when I'm annoyed by something he's commanded me to do... Time out here for an eye rollin' session and sincere smirking. I generally stop cooking for a while to test just how long he can live on takeout or if he's REALLY annoyed me, I dye his undies a nice shade of hot pink. Hot pink undies under his "summer whites" uniform isn't exactly military protocol. This always annoys him since he has to buy new undies and it never fails to get him to retaliate but of course, he has to catch me first. Sometimes he gets to me before I can slide down the banister, escape into the backyard and put 2 attack-trained rottweilers in front of me. Other times, he has to placate the rotties before he can touch me and by then, I've already climbed to the highest possible branch of one of our trees. If I'm certain the wrath of a demented Neanderthal is about to descend on my very small butt, I head for one of the outer San Juan Islands.
By the time he finally catches up with me, he had to put a little effort into the chasing and catching. I think every UNDESERVED spanking should take a little effort on the part of the spanker. After all, I did MY part!
Anyway, I forget what he said that annoyed me but I remember that I was annoyed and that's the important part. And I was out of hot pink dye and it was time for a change. So, I dumped all his new white undies into the washing machine with a light blue dye. Light blue is an acceptable color in men's undies and besides, he's wearing his winter Navy blues right now. After looking at the water in the machine, it seemed that the light blue was a bit too pale and not worth the effort so I dumped in a box of deep purple. Wouldn't you know that deep purple, mixed with light blue and Tide and warm water, makes the undies a deep shade of mauve? Not violet or orchid, but mauve. Mauve isn't what I call a masculine color.
His Holiness had something else to say about it but I'm a lady and can't say words like that. Between you and me I always thought he was blue-green color blind so this was a complete shock when he recognized that his undies were no longer pristine white. Instead of shouting indelicate phrases, you'd think he'd just resign himself to colored undies or better yet, take them to the dry cleaners/laundry where his uniforms get cleaned. I wonder if sailors suffer small strokes of stooooopid as they go up in rank?
Oh yeah, he caught up with me as I was pulling out of the driveway on my way to the Canadian border. I was not happy with his hard and heavy hand and in between gasping breaths and threats of large doses of ipecac in his food, I threw out a few theories about his penchant for spanking me when I was just being ME. You're NOT going to believe this! The wretch laughed!
Well, let me just say that it is not nice to spank me when I'm feeling righteous. So-o-o-o he buys me a beautiful and sexy dress and strappy FM high-heel sandals and takes me out to a most romantic place for an intimate dinner. I was NOT born yesterday. The man wants S-E-X and wants to pamper me as a way of apology for being heavy handed, I'm sure. Trust me, he gets plenty of lovin', he's just willing to make up a bit for jumping on me for dying his undies AGAIN. I mean... they were mauve, not hot pink.
I, of course, am the female of the species and far more vengeful than any man could ever be. And my tush is still burning. So, I'm dressed. We go out, get to the restaurant, get snuggled into a corner table by ourselves and the waiter serves the wine. His Holiness has an arm around me and he's whispering naughty thoughts in my ears, his fingers are heading toward my breast... I move slightly and his hand drops back and here comes the appetizers and he has to wait to try to cop a feel later.
Dinner is served and he cuts my steak and is watching my mouth... I take a sip of wine and kiss him. He's turned on - I slip my hand under the table and discover that things have GROWN considerably since we got to the restaurant. I can't resist. I take his hand and slip it under my dress. His fingers make their way higher... I spread my thighs... his fingers move to the center of his universe and he hisses. "NO UNDIES?"
Oops, I think I might have forgotten to put on undies.
"You're awfully fresh," I tell him as he pulls his hand away.
Have you ever seen a grown man - married forever - blush? And choke on his wine? It's an absolutely glorious sight. And then I let him know I'm not wearing a bra either and put his palm on my breast.
"Okay, we're leaving," he says and signals the waiter for the check.
Tsk. I'm going to finish my steak and then have cheesecake.
"When I get you home..." he says in a controlled whisper.
"When you get me home, you're going to make love to me like there's no tomorrow."
"This is revenge for that spanking, isn't it?"
"Yep."
"You're very very naughty."
"Are you bragging or complaining?"
He didn't answer me but the kiss that followed - while the waiter stood there wondering if he should refresh our wineglasses, convinced me that His Holiness wasn't at all unhappy about my latest bit of February creativity.
~Sar~
P.S. Look at the top right of this page. I've added a link that will show you pics of my babies. Aren't they handsome?
Tsk! And I try so hard, too. For example, when I'm annoyed by something he's commanded me to do... Time out here for an eye rollin' session and sincere smirking. I generally stop cooking for a while to test just how long he can live on takeout or if he's REALLY annoyed me, I dye his undies a nice shade of hot pink. Hot pink undies under his "summer whites" uniform isn't exactly military protocol. This always annoys him since he has to buy new undies and it never fails to get him to retaliate but of course, he has to catch me first. Sometimes he gets to me before I can slide down the banister, escape into the backyard and put 2 attack-trained rottweilers in front of me. Other times, he has to placate the rotties before he can touch me and by then, I've already climbed to the highest possible branch of one of our trees. If I'm certain the wrath of a demented Neanderthal is about to descend on my very small butt, I head for one of the outer San Juan Islands.
By the time he finally catches up with me, he had to put a little effort into the chasing and catching. I think every UNDESERVED spanking should take a little effort on the part of the spanker. After all, I did MY part!
Anyway, I forget what he said that annoyed me but I remember that I was annoyed and that's the important part. And I was out of hot pink dye and it was time for a change. So, I dumped all his new white undies into the washing machine with a light blue dye. Light blue is an acceptable color in men's undies and besides, he's wearing his winter Navy blues right now. After looking at the water in the machine, it seemed that the light blue was a bit too pale and not worth the effort so I dumped in a box of deep purple. Wouldn't you know that deep purple, mixed with light blue and Tide and warm water, makes the undies a deep shade of mauve? Not violet or orchid, but mauve. Mauve isn't what I call a masculine color.
His Holiness had something else to say about it but I'm a lady and can't say words like that. Between you and me I always thought he was blue-green color blind so this was a complete shock when he recognized that his undies were no longer pristine white. Instead of shouting indelicate phrases, you'd think he'd just resign himself to colored undies or better yet, take them to the dry cleaners/laundry where his uniforms get cleaned. I wonder if sailors suffer small strokes of stooooopid as they go up in rank?
Oh yeah, he caught up with me as I was pulling out of the driveway on my way to the Canadian border. I was not happy with his hard and heavy hand and in between gasping breaths and threats of large doses of ipecac in his food, I threw out a few theories about his penchant for spanking me when I was just being ME. You're NOT going to believe this! The wretch laughed!
Well, let me just say that it is not nice to spank me when I'm feeling righteous. So-o-o-o he buys me a beautiful and sexy dress and strappy FM high-heel sandals and takes me out to a most romantic place for an intimate dinner. I was NOT born yesterday. The man wants S-E-X and wants to pamper me as a way of apology for being heavy handed, I'm sure. Trust me, he gets plenty of lovin', he's just willing to make up a bit for jumping on me for dying his undies AGAIN. I mean... they were mauve, not hot pink.
I, of course, am the female of the species and far more vengeful than any man could ever be. And my tush is still burning. So, I'm dressed. We go out, get to the restaurant, get snuggled into a corner table by ourselves and the waiter serves the wine. His Holiness has an arm around me and he's whispering naughty thoughts in my ears, his fingers are heading toward my breast... I move slightly and his hand drops back and here comes the appetizers and he has to wait to try to cop a feel later.
Dinner is served and he cuts my steak and is watching my mouth... I take a sip of wine and kiss him. He's turned on - I slip my hand under the table and discover that things have GROWN considerably since we got to the restaurant. I can't resist. I take his hand and slip it under my dress. His fingers make their way higher... I spread my thighs... his fingers move to the center of his universe and he hisses. "NO UNDIES?"
Oops, I think I might have forgotten to put on undies.
"You're awfully fresh," I tell him as he pulls his hand away.
Have you ever seen a grown man - married forever - blush? And choke on his wine? It's an absolutely glorious sight. And then I let him know I'm not wearing a bra either and put his palm on my breast.
"Okay, we're leaving," he says and signals the waiter for the check.
Tsk. I'm going to finish my steak and then have cheesecake.
"When I get you home..." he says in a controlled whisper.
"When you get me home, you're going to make love to me like there's no tomorrow."
"This is revenge for that spanking, isn't it?"
"Yep."
"You're very very naughty."
"Are you bragging or complaining?"
He didn't answer me but the kiss that followed - while the waiter stood there wondering if he should refresh our wineglasses, convinced me that His Holiness wasn't at all unhappy about my latest bit of February creativity.
~Sar~
P.S. Look at the top right of this page. I've added a link that will show you pics of my babies. Aren't they handsome?
Wednesday, February 15, 2006
'Twas Glorious!
Actually, 'twas abso-perfect-lutely wonderful! A glorious Valentine's Day and I think I'll keep His Holiness for at least another year. *Smiles*
I was a little tired from working with the new dogs the day before. Washed all of them with my special doggie shampoo - a mixture of store bought stuff, oatmeal, liquid Vitamin E and lemon juice - then a follow-up with hair conditioner mixed with moisturizing skin lotion and a good brushing. (Tip: Always brush the fur the wrong way - it gets rid of loose fur.) And they smelled sweet and their fur coats started to get that silky feeling. A few more baths like that and they'll shine.
So I slept later than usual on Valentine's day and when I woke up... this *huge* man was in my bed! And he was kissing me! And I was in my birthday suit!
"Ohhhhhh," I said. "If my husband shows up, you're in big trouble!"
"I'm his stand-in," the behemoth said and kissed me again!
'Twas wonderful!
"You can stand-in *any* time," I assured him and kissed him back.
"Such a hussy you are!" the giant squid growled and before I knew it, I was over his lap and his excessively hard hand was doing the one-clap dance.
Tsk.
"Now that I think about it," I told him between gasps of ouches and sighs of pleasure, "you do remind me of His Holiness."
"What gave it away?" the wretch wanted to know as he continued to practice his drumbeats.
"No one kisses quite like you."
"Who else have you been kissing?"
Oye - poor choice of words.
"Welllll, there's this Neanderthal I'm occasionally fond of..."
"Only occasionally?"
SWAT!
"And a giant squid that I feel sorry for and feel an obligation to kiss every once in a while - just so he doesn't feel neglected."
"Feel sorry for?"
SWAT!
"An obligation?"
SWAT!
"Feel neglected?"
SWAT!
"And then there's His Holiness who thinks I should follow his orders but between you and me, he's just a wussie Navy Seal and I just can't resist a wussie Navy Seal."
"Seals are not wussies."
SWAT!
"Oh yeah? But can they kiss?"
"Damn straight!"
SWAT!
"Prove it!"
~ sigh ~ And he did.
Then there was chocolate and cuddles and lots of laughter when I got tickled till I was breathless and then more chocolate and more cuddles and Cue the violins good stuff.
Breakfast was shared - we fed each other cheese blintzes and strawberries and cream and chicory coffee and cuddled some more.
I had hung several mistletoe Valentines around the house so when he took a phone call on his cell - standing in the doorway to his office, I heard him say "Sir?" Oh joy! That means someone higher ranked than His Holiness was on the phone - a rare occurrence. What's a loving wife supposed to do at a time like that?
I came up behind him and yanked his sweats down and when he instantly turned to face me, I let my hands talk for me. Boy! Was he surprised! And then I slipped to the floor - drum roll, please! - And practically choked on my... errr... laughter... as I listened to him try to carry on a civil conversation with a superior officer and act as if he were immune to what was happening below his waist.
The wretch made some excuse and ended his call and before I could make my escape, I was lifted above his head, told what a naughty girl I was and was bent over his desktop before I took another breath.
Hark! Was that a herd of stampeding longhorns? Thunder rolling in? Fighter jets passing through Mach 2?
Ohhhhh myyyyy! What followed was stingy and not-so-gentle loving... falling to the carpet... rolling over and over fighting to be on top... kissing here, there and everywhere and wowzers! Firecrackers and shooting stars and such absolute bliss I'm struggling to find the right words and I just might leave those mistletoe Valentines up for a while.
~ long contented sigh ~
The rest of the day was equal amounts of chocolate, cuddling, teasing, chasing, catching, and lots of loving. I vaguely remember lunch. But for dinner, Cowboy gave me a sexy number to wear and he donned a jacket and we were soon dressed to go out. I wondered where he was taking me when the doorbell rang.
A waiter showed up with my favorite foods, set my dining room table with linens, et al and served us a delicious meal. There was wine and triple chocolate cake and lots of flowers and when I couldn't eat another bite, the dishes were cleared away and we retired to the sofa in front of the fireplace and cuddled until the man left. The temps are below freezing, the fire was warm and I got up to make a chocolate drink for my beloved - Bicerin - and what followed was so very sweet on the rug in front of the blazing fire.
We weren't totally alone all day. My rott was drawn to the wine... and kept nosing me under the table in case I forgot he was there. The mastiff knows I won't give him chocolate but that didn't stop him from swiping one of the small cheese/dip platters the waiter had put on the kitchen counter prior to serving it. The dog is so large, he just stood on his hind legs and stole the ENTIRE platter. Then both dogs assumed the rug in front of the blazing fire was for THEM and they settled in for a nice long nap until His Holiness made ugly noises in their direction and they retreated to the rug under the kitchen table.
The cats sprawled on top of the fireplace mantle and watched us make whoopee - feline voyeurs.
It was a wonderful day to remember why we wed and to enjoy each other. There's more to February yet to come... and I plan to give His Holiness a few more surprises. With any luck, he'll be *up* to the challenge.
~Sar~
I was a little tired from working with the new dogs the day before. Washed all of them with my special doggie shampoo - a mixture of store bought stuff, oatmeal, liquid Vitamin E and lemon juice - then a follow-up with hair conditioner mixed with moisturizing skin lotion and a good brushing. (Tip: Always brush the fur the wrong way - it gets rid of loose fur.) And they smelled sweet and their fur coats started to get that silky feeling. A few more baths like that and they'll shine.
So I slept later than usual on Valentine's day and when I woke up... this *huge* man was in my bed! And he was kissing me! And I was in my birthday suit!
"Ohhhhhh," I said. "If my husband shows up, you're in big trouble!"
"I'm his stand-in," the behemoth said and kissed me again!
'Twas wonderful!
"You can stand-in *any* time," I assured him and kissed him back.
"Such a hussy you are!" the giant squid growled and before I knew it, I was over his lap and his excessively hard hand was doing the one-clap dance.
Tsk.
"Now that I think about it," I told him between gasps of ouches and sighs of pleasure, "you do remind me of His Holiness."
"What gave it away?" the wretch wanted to know as he continued to practice his drumbeats.
"No one kisses quite like you."
"Who else have you been kissing?"
Oye - poor choice of words.
"Welllll, there's this Neanderthal I'm occasionally fond of..."
"Only occasionally?"
SWAT!
"And a giant squid that I feel sorry for and feel an obligation to kiss every once in a while - just so he doesn't feel neglected."
"Feel sorry for?"
SWAT!
"An obligation?"
SWAT!
"Feel neglected?"
SWAT!
"And then there's His Holiness who thinks I should follow his orders but between you and me, he's just a wussie Navy Seal and I just can't resist a wussie Navy Seal."
"Seals are not wussies."
SWAT!
"Oh yeah? But can they kiss?"
"Damn straight!"
SWAT!
"Prove it!"
~ sigh ~ And he did.
Then there was chocolate and cuddles and lots of laughter when I got tickled till I was breathless and then more chocolate and more cuddles and Cue the violins good stuff.
Breakfast was shared - we fed each other cheese blintzes and strawberries and cream and chicory coffee and cuddled some more.
I had hung several mistletoe Valentines around the house so when he took a phone call on his cell - standing in the doorway to his office, I heard him say "Sir?" Oh joy! That means someone higher ranked than His Holiness was on the phone - a rare occurrence. What's a loving wife supposed to do at a time like that?
I came up behind him and yanked his sweats down and when he instantly turned to face me, I let my hands talk for me. Boy! Was he surprised! And then I slipped to the floor - drum roll, please! - And practically choked on my... errr... laughter... as I listened to him try to carry on a civil conversation with a superior officer and act as if he were immune to what was happening below his waist.
The wretch made some excuse and ended his call and before I could make my escape, I was lifted above his head, told what a naughty girl I was and was bent over his desktop before I took another breath.
Hark! Was that a herd of stampeding longhorns? Thunder rolling in? Fighter jets passing through Mach 2?
Ohhhhh myyyyy! What followed was stingy and not-so-gentle loving... falling to the carpet... rolling over and over fighting to be on top... kissing here, there and everywhere and wowzers! Firecrackers and shooting stars and such absolute bliss I'm struggling to find the right words and I just might leave those mistletoe Valentines up for a while.
~ long contented sigh ~
The rest of the day was equal amounts of chocolate, cuddling, teasing, chasing, catching, and lots of loving. I vaguely remember lunch. But for dinner, Cowboy gave me a sexy number to wear and he donned a jacket and we were soon dressed to go out. I wondered where he was taking me when the doorbell rang.
A waiter showed up with my favorite foods, set my dining room table with linens, et al and served us a delicious meal. There was wine and triple chocolate cake and lots of flowers and when I couldn't eat another bite, the dishes were cleared away and we retired to the sofa in front of the fireplace and cuddled until the man left. The temps are below freezing, the fire was warm and I got up to make a chocolate drink for my beloved - Bicerin - and what followed was so very sweet on the rug in front of the blazing fire.
We weren't totally alone all day. My rott was drawn to the wine... and kept nosing me under the table in case I forgot he was there. The mastiff knows I won't give him chocolate but that didn't stop him from swiping one of the small cheese/dip platters the waiter had put on the kitchen counter prior to serving it. The dog is so large, he just stood on his hind legs and stole the ENTIRE platter. Then both dogs assumed the rug in front of the blazing fire was for THEM and they settled in for a nice long nap until His Holiness made ugly noises in their direction and they retreated to the rug under the kitchen table.
The cats sprawled on top of the fireplace mantle and watched us make whoopee - feline voyeurs.
It was a wonderful day to remember why we wed and to enjoy each other. There's more to February yet to come... and I plan to give His Holiness a few more surprises. With any luck, he'll be *up* to the challenge.
~Sar~
Saturday, February 11, 2006
February Musings
Cowboy here. Sar is still flying high so I'm updating her blog. It's not just chocolate that makes the imp dizzy with happiness although that's a given.
Don't know if she's mentioned that we foster large breed dogs that have been rescued. They come from breeding kennels that have been shut down, were abandoned or the owners died, etc. Sar is skilled in teaching "obedience" and getting the animals rehabilitated and socialized. Most of them earn "companion" dog titles before they're adopted out and some learn the basics of living with a disabled person and assisting them. All animals are attracted to her - 2-legged and 4-legged varieties. I generally push the 2-legged ones away from her.
She's good at this and I'm damn proud of her accomplishments. This morning, I screened a few dogs that need a second chance at life and brought them home for her to rehabilitate and train. When she saw the "pure dog rescue" van pull into the driveway, she flew out of the house to meet us. It took great restraint on her part to keep her hands off until each was individually kenneled. I had to laugh - when Sar can't wait to touch them, she hugs herself and simultaneously tells me to hurry so she can meet the dogs.
I brought home an English mastiff - neglected and too thin and rough patches on his coat. His nails are too long, teeth a little yellow and he's scratching his ears a lot - probably mites. Sar declared him a handsome rogue waiting to strut his stuff. She named him Oliver.
We also took in an older bloodhound - arthritic and torn paw pads, a crooked tail, and chest scars. His name is Archie and when he saw Sar, he bayed. The first time I saw her I bayed too but that's another story.
There's a Scottish Deer hound in the crowd. Murdock - the first time we've fostered one of those. They're sight hounds, should be easy to train.
And last, there's a young Alaskan Malamute. Malamutes are medium sized dogs but powerful and extraordinarily bright. It takes a mentally strong trainer to teach them new habits. Sar chose to call him Tuma, a proud Inuit name.
With me and her rott and mastiff in attendance, Sar introduced herself to each dog, examined their eyes, ears, teeth, paws and coat and made notes on their health problems. This "meeting" always astounds me. The dogs look at me and mostly ignore me or growl low. When they see Sar, they turn to mush, each one wants her attention and wants to sit on her lap. While she talks to them, she's offering bits of peanut butter cookies and they're lapping it out of her hand.
Each dog gets the same lecture while she pets them. Sar tells them what the rules are, what they will eat and what she expects of each one.
"You jump on me, you get kicked in the chest."
"You nip me, you get your nose pinched."
"You fight with the other dogs, you eat kibble while everybody else gets mac and cheese and twinkies."
"You play nice and try hard, you eat large."
"Herbal bath twice a week and daily brushing."
"Daily dose of vitamin C and no spitting it out."
"No growling or backtalk while I clean your ears, brush your teeth and clip your nails."
"You be good to me and I'll make you the happiest pooch on the planet."
The mastiff stands still during the lecture. The bloodhound bays through the whole thing. The deer hound has been nosing Sar's pockets and the malamute is chewing on her shoe laces. I smile at the imp; she has a lot of work ahead of her and she's hyped for the challenge. When she gets through with them, 4 families will get 4 very obedient and healthy pets.
She makes a special supper for them - cooked oatmeal mixed with small amounts of kibble and ground chicken and eggs and I don't know what else. She feeds each one of them from her hand - there is a reason for this. She wants them to know she is the alpha in the pack and controls the food. When she grooms them, she will subtly introduce commands - sit, down, stay. But the main thing she will teach during grooming is "watch me." This is an important command. If they learn to watch her, the other commands will be learned quickly. She'll teach them to respond to voice and hand signals, and when she works with them, her own dogs will be in attendance to keep the peace.
On another note, it is February. Both of us are enjoying the extra effort we have put into sharing this special month. I have ordered imported chocolates for my sweetheart and will bring flowers home on Valentine's Day. She told me she wants more than chocolate and flowers.
What do you want? I asked her. New lingerie?
Sex, she said.
Sex? I try not to laugh in case she is serious.
Lots of sex, she says. And sweet spankings.
You don't get enough?
You're getting old, she tells me. I want as much as possible before you're too old.
I grab her and hug the stuffing out of her. I'm not so old that I can't please my wife on a regular basis. I should spank her for being sassy and I will later. Right now I promise her she doesn't have to worry. I'll deliver everything she wants and maybe more.
Cowboy
Don't know if she's mentioned that we foster large breed dogs that have been rescued. They come from breeding kennels that have been shut down, were abandoned or the owners died, etc. Sar is skilled in teaching "obedience" and getting the animals rehabilitated and socialized. Most of them earn "companion" dog titles before they're adopted out and some learn the basics of living with a disabled person and assisting them. All animals are attracted to her - 2-legged and 4-legged varieties. I generally push the 2-legged ones away from her.
She's good at this and I'm damn proud of her accomplishments. This morning, I screened a few dogs that need a second chance at life and brought them home for her to rehabilitate and train. When she saw the "pure dog rescue" van pull into the driveway, she flew out of the house to meet us. It took great restraint on her part to keep her hands off until each was individually kenneled. I had to laugh - when Sar can't wait to touch them, she hugs herself and simultaneously tells me to hurry so she can meet the dogs.
I brought home an English mastiff - neglected and too thin and rough patches on his coat. His nails are too long, teeth a little yellow and he's scratching his ears a lot - probably mites. Sar declared him a handsome rogue waiting to strut his stuff. She named him Oliver.
We also took in an older bloodhound - arthritic and torn paw pads, a crooked tail, and chest scars. His name is Archie and when he saw Sar, he bayed. The first time I saw her I bayed too but that's another story.
There's a Scottish Deer hound in the crowd. Murdock - the first time we've fostered one of those. They're sight hounds, should be easy to train.
And last, there's a young Alaskan Malamute. Malamutes are medium sized dogs but powerful and extraordinarily bright. It takes a mentally strong trainer to teach them new habits. Sar chose to call him Tuma, a proud Inuit name.
With me and her rott and mastiff in attendance, Sar introduced herself to each dog, examined their eyes, ears, teeth, paws and coat and made notes on their health problems. This "meeting" always astounds me. The dogs look at me and mostly ignore me or growl low. When they see Sar, they turn to mush, each one wants her attention and wants to sit on her lap. While she talks to them, she's offering bits of peanut butter cookies and they're lapping it out of her hand.
Each dog gets the same lecture while she pets them. Sar tells them what the rules are, what they will eat and what she expects of each one.
"You jump on me, you get kicked in the chest."
"You nip me, you get your nose pinched."
"You fight with the other dogs, you eat kibble while everybody else gets mac and cheese and twinkies."
"You play nice and try hard, you eat large."
"Herbal bath twice a week and daily brushing."
"Daily dose of vitamin C and no spitting it out."
"No growling or backtalk while I clean your ears, brush your teeth and clip your nails."
"You be good to me and I'll make you the happiest pooch on the planet."
The mastiff stands still during the lecture. The bloodhound bays through the whole thing. The deer hound has been nosing Sar's pockets and the malamute is chewing on her shoe laces. I smile at the imp; she has a lot of work ahead of her and she's hyped for the challenge. When she gets through with them, 4 families will get 4 very obedient and healthy pets.
She makes a special supper for them - cooked oatmeal mixed with small amounts of kibble and ground chicken and eggs and I don't know what else. She feeds each one of them from her hand - there is a reason for this. She wants them to know she is the alpha in the pack and controls the food. When she grooms them, she will subtly introduce commands - sit, down, stay. But the main thing she will teach during grooming is "watch me." This is an important command. If they learn to watch her, the other commands will be learned quickly. She'll teach them to respond to voice and hand signals, and when she works with them, her own dogs will be in attendance to keep the peace.
On another note, it is February. Both of us are enjoying the extra effort we have put into sharing this special month. I have ordered imported chocolates for my sweetheart and will bring flowers home on Valentine's Day. She told me she wants more than chocolate and flowers.
What do you want? I asked her. New lingerie?
Sex, she said.
Sex? I try not to laugh in case she is serious.
Lots of sex, she says. And sweet spankings.
You don't get enough?
You're getting old, she tells me. I want as much as possible before you're too old.
I grab her and hug the stuffing out of her. I'm not so old that I can't please my wife on a regular basis. I should spank her for being sassy and I will later. Right now I promise her she doesn't have to worry. I'll deliver everything she wants and maybe more.
Cowboy
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Ya know...
Sometimes a gal's gotta do what a gal's gotta do.
So when His Holiness announced that we were going back to the doctor for a follow-up visit and that I wasn't supposed to eat or drink anything after 10 p.m. the night before, I went into "warrior princess" mode. My savior - Wonder Woman - has been mighty busy lately and her image has been tainted ever since someone posted a pic of her bare bum getting smacked by Super Man on the Internet. I couldn't rely on her to save me so I went to Plan B.
I've learned over the years not to argue with His Holiness when he says we're doing something I object to. I generally just ignore him and make my escape, but this time I knew I couldn't get away in time.
So... in the middle of the night when I got up to go to the bathroom, I scarfed down a few Twinkies, HoHos and DingDongs. I would have had a few Heath Bars but I didn't want to push it. Then, the next morning, while Cowboy was jogging, I made a few boxes of Mac and Cheese for me and the pups. Forget this fasting blood thing - I'm going to get weighed when I get to the doc and I need to carbo load.
When he came back he said: "You didn't eat breakfast, did you?"
Mac and Cheese for breakfast? Nawwww.
"I made breakfast for the pups, dear." (Which was true. And since I've never ever done anything in my life for which I felt guilt, there was no reason to volunteer information that would raise Cowboy's blood pressure.)
"They're going to draw more blood, imp. You don't want our visit to end up with you upended, do you?"
Visit? A doctor's appointment is not a visit. It's a date with doom. And don't they have enough of my blood by now? What are they doing? Selling it to the closet vampires?
"We have to leave as soon as I shower," the giant squid announced.
"I'm ready," I smiled and put the mastiff in the backseat of the car. The doc is obviously afraid of the rottweiler - the mastiff is bigger and has a friendlier face. Fortunately, he also bites on command.
The dog knows where his loyalty lies so he gets down on the floor of the SUV behind the front seat and under a blanket and doesn't pop his head up until we're at the base clinic.
"You brought the beast? How many times do I have to tell you dogs are not allowed in the clinic?"
"You're an Admiral. Rank has its privileges. I'll be much more comfortable with BullyBoy beside me."
"He's not gonna be beside you when I get you home and alone in the bedroom with the door shut!"
ACKKK! I think I was just threatened.
The clinic staff is used to me. They don't get alarmed when I walk in with a 165 lb. dog by my side. I think they're just happy I didn't bounce in with an AK47. So, while Cowboy is talking with the doc, I'm in another room where the nurse is weighing me. I keep her attention on the bar at the top of the scale and BullyBoy puts his paw on the scale next to my foot. It took *forever* to teach him to do that and to hold his paw there until I said "okay" and then remove it as I step off the scale. Between me and BullyBoy's paw, I have gained six pounds! A miracle! The nurse is very impressed with my weight gain. I make a mental note to give the pup extra liver biscuits when we get home.
The doc wants to draw blood.
I say no.
His Holiness says yes.
I run a finger down BullyBoy's back.
BullyBoy smiles - showing his pearly whites. The pup has such a sweet smile. And he wags his tail. Such a well-mannered puppy.
His Holiness arches a brow.
I tap BullyBoy on the head.
BullyBoy morphs into canine terrorist and growls. When a dog growls, it's a bit startling. When a BIG dog like BullyBoy growls, every nerve in your body screams "I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"
His Holiness mutters an unintelligible sound which I'm certain is not a compliment.
The doc eyes the dog and you can just see what he is thinking. RABID DOG! RED ALERT! He says the blood test isn't really all that necessary, just a backup to confirm what he already knows.
I arch a brow at His Holiness and mouth words like "Somalia."
His Holiness makes a hand gesture that clearly interpreted means "spanking" and mouths "you."
Tsk.
We make an appointment to return in 3 months. (As soon as I get home, I cancel the appointment.)
On the way home... His Holiness says he didn't realize BullyBoy's paw weighed so much. Tsk. For someone who was born in the dark ages, Cowboy knows a lot more about my tricks than I give him credit for.
I suggest we stop for brunch and ice cream.
He suggests we high tail it home so he is not tempted to spank me in public.
I suggest Prozac.
He suggests making a stop to pick up some very soft pillows.
I tell him someone I know has referred to him as a "serial spanker."
He tells me he loves that appellation and takes the freeway exit that goes to the road to our house.
I tell him he needs to pull over onto the shoulder NOW.
He pulls over... I grab him and kiss him and tell him I love him for not telling the doc about BullyBoy's paw.
I get a hard swat, a mind blowing kiss, another swat - lighter this time - and since I didn't hurt the doc, I get a promise that we'll go out for a nice dinner later.
"Will I be sitting comfortably at dinner?" I need details.
"Depends."
"Depends on what?"
"On how good you are to me when we get home."
"Ohhhh. I can be very very good."
"You'll have to prove it."
~sigh~
Well, a gal's gotta do what a gal's gotta do... and I did.
~Sar~
So when His Holiness announced that we were going back to the doctor for a follow-up visit and that I wasn't supposed to eat or drink anything after 10 p.m. the night before, I went into "warrior princess" mode. My savior - Wonder Woman - has been mighty busy lately and her image has been tainted ever since someone posted a pic of her bare bum getting smacked by Super Man on the Internet. I couldn't rely on her to save me so I went to Plan B.
I've learned over the years not to argue with His Holiness when he says we're doing something I object to. I generally just ignore him and make my escape, but this time I knew I couldn't get away in time.
So... in the middle of the night when I got up to go to the bathroom, I scarfed down a few Twinkies, HoHos and DingDongs. I would have had a few Heath Bars but I didn't want to push it. Then, the next morning, while Cowboy was jogging, I made a few boxes of Mac and Cheese for me and the pups. Forget this fasting blood thing - I'm going to get weighed when I get to the doc and I need to carbo load.
When he came back he said: "You didn't eat breakfast, did you?"
Mac and Cheese for breakfast? Nawwww.
"I made breakfast for the pups, dear." (Which was true. And since I've never ever done anything in my life for which I felt guilt, there was no reason to volunteer information that would raise Cowboy's blood pressure.)
"They're going to draw more blood, imp. You don't want our visit to end up with you upended, do you?"
Visit? A doctor's appointment is not a visit. It's a date with doom. And don't they have enough of my blood by now? What are they doing? Selling it to the closet vampires?
"We have to leave as soon as I shower," the giant squid announced.
"I'm ready," I smiled and put the mastiff in the backseat of the car. The doc is obviously afraid of the rottweiler - the mastiff is bigger and has a friendlier face. Fortunately, he also bites on command.
The dog knows where his loyalty lies so he gets down on the floor of the SUV behind the front seat and under a blanket and doesn't pop his head up until we're at the base clinic.
"You brought the beast? How many times do I have to tell you dogs are not allowed in the clinic?"
"You're an Admiral. Rank has its privileges. I'll be much more comfortable with BullyBoy beside me."
"He's not gonna be beside you when I get you home and alone in the bedroom with the door shut!"
ACKKK! I think I was just threatened.
The clinic staff is used to me. They don't get alarmed when I walk in with a 165 lb. dog by my side. I think they're just happy I didn't bounce in with an AK47. So, while Cowboy is talking with the doc, I'm in another room where the nurse is weighing me. I keep her attention on the bar at the top of the scale and BullyBoy puts his paw on the scale next to my foot. It took *forever* to teach him to do that and to hold his paw there until I said "okay" and then remove it as I step off the scale. Between me and BullyBoy's paw, I have gained six pounds! A miracle! The nurse is very impressed with my weight gain. I make a mental note to give the pup extra liver biscuits when we get home.
The doc wants to draw blood.
I say no.
His Holiness says yes.
I run a finger down BullyBoy's back.
BullyBoy smiles - showing his pearly whites. The pup has such a sweet smile. And he wags his tail. Such a well-mannered puppy.
His Holiness arches a brow.
I tap BullyBoy on the head.
BullyBoy morphs into canine terrorist and growls. When a dog growls, it's a bit startling. When a BIG dog like BullyBoy growls, every nerve in your body screams "I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"
His Holiness mutters an unintelligible sound which I'm certain is not a compliment.
The doc eyes the dog and you can just see what he is thinking. RABID DOG! RED ALERT! He says the blood test isn't really all that necessary, just a backup to confirm what he already knows.
I arch a brow at His Holiness and mouth words like "Somalia."
His Holiness makes a hand gesture that clearly interpreted means "spanking" and mouths "you."
Tsk.
We make an appointment to return in 3 months. (As soon as I get home, I cancel the appointment.)
On the way home... His Holiness says he didn't realize BullyBoy's paw weighed so much. Tsk. For someone who was born in the dark ages, Cowboy knows a lot more about my tricks than I give him credit for.
I suggest we stop for brunch and ice cream.
He suggests we high tail it home so he is not tempted to spank me in public.
I suggest Prozac.
He suggests making a stop to pick up some very soft pillows.
I tell him someone I know has referred to him as a "serial spanker."
He tells me he loves that appellation and takes the freeway exit that goes to the road to our house.
I tell him he needs to pull over onto the shoulder NOW.
He pulls over... I grab him and kiss him and tell him I love him for not telling the doc about BullyBoy's paw.
I get a hard swat, a mind blowing kiss, another swat - lighter this time - and since I didn't hurt the doc, I get a promise that we'll go out for a nice dinner later.
"Will I be sitting comfortably at dinner?" I need details.
"Depends."
"Depends on what?"
"On how good you are to me when we get home."
"Ohhhh. I can be very very good."
"You'll have to prove it."
~sigh~
Well, a gal's gotta do what a gal's gotta do... and I did.
~Sar~
Sunday, February 05, 2006
Football Fever!
It's Super Bowl Sunday!
big deal!
I've never been much of a football fan, never had football fever but this year... it's the Pittsburgh Steelers vs. the Seattle Seahawks. I live in the Seattle area and this is the Seahawks' very first time in the Super Bowl. The football fever here is at an all-time high. Everywhere you go, "have a nice day" has been replaced with "Go Seahawks!"
yawn
I attended a lot of football games when I was in college. They were held every Sunday afternoon during the season and the reason I went was because I knew my date would buy hotdogs and chips and soda pop. I'd eat my share and then, whenever he jumped up to shout and make a fool of himself along with the other football fiends... err... fans, I could help myself to the rest of the food. I rarely went to a football game with the same guy twice. They always seemed to wonder when they had eaten their hotdogs and I know you won't believe this, but some of them actually looked at me with great suspicion. I think those were the days when I spent a lot of time practicing my innocent look. I entered college as a 16-year old freshman so I had youth on my side. Those were the good old days.
~sigh~
I knew absolutely nothing about the game until I went off to college and even though I spent most of my time eating... some of what was happening on the field eventually rubbed off. A lot of people today - females - know as much or more about the game than the men do, but there are still people - in third-world countries - who don't understand the intricacies of the sport. Well, I'm here to clue you in.
The rules are very specific:
1/There are two groups of guys. These groups are called teams. Each team has to have the same number of players. Offhand, I don't know how many but it can't be too many because I don't think football players can count too high.
2/Each team has to wear a uniform in different colors than the other team. This is so a mama can tell if it's her little boy running like a bat out of hell down the field or if he's the one on the bottom of a pile of oversized testosterone getting squashed. This is not a game for the faint of heart.
pass the chips
3/The football is not round like a baseball or a basketball. It's oval shaped and get this: It's made out of pig skin! Is that disgusting or what? I wonder how many little piggies they have to slaughter just to cover that thing. And what's worse! It's brownish and leathery. I do hope they didn't roast that poor little piggie until it was already dead. Tsk.
4/The game is played for 60 minutes. The playing time is divided into 4 quarters. After 2 quarters, there's a few minutes of entertainment. This is called the "half-time show." The reason there's the half-time show is because the football players have been running around like chickens with their heads cut off and now they need a break so they can pee and have a beer. "Sporty" guys do that a lot.
4/In addition to the players, there are men with somber faces watching everything they do. They wear uniforms too - stripes. Since the game is seasonal, it's possible they get these guys from the work-release programs at the local penitentiary. Isn't that lovely? I forget what they call these guys - umpires or referees maybe. Whatever... they're the watchdogs and not one of them ever cracks a smile. I bet they don't floss either.
5/Also on the side of the playing field are the team coaches and in a lot of games, the media is also there. The coaches are the ones wearing portable microphones and carrying a clipboard. Clipboards are very important accoutrements of a football game. I don't know why; I think it's a part of the uniform. There's usually one coach that chews gum through the whole event and it's truly disgusting. First, he chews with his mouth open and second, he chews a WAD of the stuff. Of course, this makes his dentist happy because the guy probably also grinds his teeth. He can't wait for the half-time break so he can shove a new wad in. Ewwww.
6/The game begins with someone singing our national anthem, "The Star Spangled Banner." Then the two teams face each other in the middle of the field and act all macho. They crouch over like someone just kicked them in the gut, the really big fellas just sort of lean on their knuckles and channel King Kong in the hopes of scaring the beejeebees out of the other gorillas on the opposing team. This is a case of "my shoulder pads are bigger than your shoulder pads" or... something like that.
7/Then the quarterback goes into action. This is the star of the team and everyone on the opposing team wants to tackle him and smother him. The reason he's called a quarterback is because he's about 1/4 the size of the gorillas. He can run faster than they can which is a good thing. I think they need to paint him with pig grease (from the pig they slaughtered) so he can slip through the gorillas more easily.
8/I forgot to mention that the football players wear helmets with face guards. This is so nobody gets a fist or a foot in the face in the heat of all that good sportsmanship. They also paint thick dark lines under their eyes. Is this really necessary? It makes they look like wussies.
9/When a team gets the ball, they play "4 downs" and then the other team gets the ball. Once in a while, they don't get all 4 "downs" because the other team "intercepts" the ball. Okay folks, since little kids are watching, they call this a "ball intercept," but you and I both knew what really happens is that the other team gets greedy and can't wait their turn and they steal the ball. And every time this happens, the crowd goes wild! Very very sad grown men can't play nice.
10/The "4 downs:" Every time I hear it's the "1st down" or the "2nd down," etc. I can't help wondering when it will be the "1st UP." There are certain immutable things in life: Day - night, black - white, vanilla - chocolate, left - right, down - up. All those "downs" and no "ups." And nobody ever mentions it, either! Unbelievable.
11/The goal of the game is to get the football to the far end of the field with all of one's body parts intact. This is called a touchdown and everybody makes a big deal out of it. This is really my favorite part because everybody jumps up and down and goes crazy and nobody notices that I just grabbed the last of the nachos, etc. At least I have *my* priorities in order.
Okay, who's up for pizza?
12/After a touchdown, the team gets to play for an extra point. This is usually done by kicking the football between two goal posts. The team has a "kicker" and as far as I can tell, that's all he does. Everybody in the stands is watching this guy. The TV cameras are watching him. The coach is chewing like crazy and he's watching him. His mama is watching. This puts a lot of pressure on the poor guy and it's a really tense moment. Sometimes that one point can make or break the game for the team. Will he make the kick?
Like I care. Pass the pizza.
I asked His Holiness to look this over to make sure I explained everything. He said it wasn't quite accurate. Now he tells me!
And would you believe the wretch is laughing?
Tsk. Now, I'm not sure if I should explain the rules of basketball and baseball to you.
~Sar~
big deal!
I've never been much of a football fan, never had football fever but this year... it's the Pittsburgh Steelers vs. the Seattle Seahawks. I live in the Seattle area and this is the Seahawks' very first time in the Super Bowl. The football fever here is at an all-time high. Everywhere you go, "have a nice day" has been replaced with "Go Seahawks!"
yawn
I attended a lot of football games when I was in college. They were held every Sunday afternoon during the season and the reason I went was because I knew my date would buy hotdogs and chips and soda pop. I'd eat my share and then, whenever he jumped up to shout and make a fool of himself along with the other football fiends... err... fans, I could help myself to the rest of the food. I rarely went to a football game with the same guy twice. They always seemed to wonder when they had eaten their hotdogs and I know you won't believe this, but some of them actually looked at me with great suspicion. I think those were the days when I spent a lot of time practicing my innocent look. I entered college as a 16-year old freshman so I had youth on my side. Those were the good old days.
~sigh~
I knew absolutely nothing about the game until I went off to college and even though I spent most of my time eating... some of what was happening on the field eventually rubbed off. A lot of people today - females - know as much or more about the game than the men do, but there are still people - in third-world countries - who don't understand the intricacies of the sport. Well, I'm here to clue you in.
The rules are very specific:
1/There are two groups of guys. These groups are called teams. Each team has to have the same number of players. Offhand, I don't know how many but it can't be too many because I don't think football players can count too high.
2/Each team has to wear a uniform in different colors than the other team. This is so a mama can tell if it's her little boy running like a bat out of hell down the field or if he's the one on the bottom of a pile of oversized testosterone getting squashed. This is not a game for the faint of heart.
pass the chips
3/The football is not round like a baseball or a basketball. It's oval shaped and get this: It's made out of pig skin! Is that disgusting or what? I wonder how many little piggies they have to slaughter just to cover that thing. And what's worse! It's brownish and leathery. I do hope they didn't roast that poor little piggie until it was already dead. Tsk.
4/The game is played for 60 minutes. The playing time is divided into 4 quarters. After 2 quarters, there's a few minutes of entertainment. This is called the "half-time show." The reason there's the half-time show is because the football players have been running around like chickens with their heads cut off and now they need a break so they can pee and have a beer. "Sporty" guys do that a lot.
4/In addition to the players, there are men with somber faces watching everything they do. They wear uniforms too - stripes. Since the game is seasonal, it's possible they get these guys from the work-release programs at the local penitentiary. Isn't that lovely? I forget what they call these guys - umpires or referees maybe. Whatever... they're the watchdogs and not one of them ever cracks a smile. I bet they don't floss either.
5/Also on the side of the playing field are the team coaches and in a lot of games, the media is also there. The coaches are the ones wearing portable microphones and carrying a clipboard. Clipboards are very important accoutrements of a football game. I don't know why; I think it's a part of the uniform. There's usually one coach that chews gum through the whole event and it's truly disgusting. First, he chews with his mouth open and second, he chews a WAD of the stuff. Of course, this makes his dentist happy because the guy probably also grinds his teeth. He can't wait for the half-time break so he can shove a new wad in. Ewwww.
6/The game begins with someone singing our national anthem, "The Star Spangled Banner." Then the two teams face each other in the middle of the field and act all macho. They crouch over like someone just kicked them in the gut, the really big fellas just sort of lean on their knuckles and channel King Kong in the hopes of scaring the beejeebees out of the other gorillas on the opposing team. This is a case of "my shoulder pads are bigger than your shoulder pads" or... something like that.
7/Then the quarterback goes into action. This is the star of the team and everyone on the opposing team wants to tackle him and smother him. The reason he's called a quarterback is because he's about 1/4 the size of the gorillas. He can run faster than they can which is a good thing. I think they need to paint him with pig grease (from the pig they slaughtered) so he can slip through the gorillas more easily.
8/I forgot to mention that the football players wear helmets with face guards. This is so nobody gets a fist or a foot in the face in the heat of all that good sportsmanship. They also paint thick dark lines under their eyes. Is this really necessary? It makes they look like wussies.
9/When a team gets the ball, they play "4 downs" and then the other team gets the ball. Once in a while, they don't get all 4 "downs" because the other team "intercepts" the ball. Okay folks, since little kids are watching, they call this a "ball intercept," but you and I both knew what really happens is that the other team gets greedy and can't wait their turn and they steal the ball. And every time this happens, the crowd goes wild! Very very sad grown men can't play nice.
10/The "4 downs:" Every time I hear it's the "1st down" or the "2nd down," etc. I can't help wondering when it will be the "1st UP." There are certain immutable things in life: Day - night, black - white, vanilla - chocolate, left - right, down - up. All those "downs" and no "ups." And nobody ever mentions it, either! Unbelievable.
11/The goal of the game is to get the football to the far end of the field with all of one's body parts intact. This is called a touchdown and everybody makes a big deal out of it. This is really my favorite part because everybody jumps up and down and goes crazy and nobody notices that I just grabbed the last of the nachos, etc. At least I have *my* priorities in order.
Okay, who's up for pizza?
12/After a touchdown, the team gets to play for an extra point. This is usually done by kicking the football between two goal posts. The team has a "kicker" and as far as I can tell, that's all he does. Everybody in the stands is watching this guy. The TV cameras are watching him. The coach is chewing like crazy and he's watching him. His mama is watching. This puts a lot of pressure on the poor guy and it's a really tense moment. Sometimes that one point can make or break the game for the team. Will he make the kick?
Like I care. Pass the pizza.
I asked His Holiness to look this over to make sure I explained everything. He said it wasn't quite accurate. Now he tells me!
And would you believe the wretch is laughing?
Tsk. Now, I'm not sure if I should explain the rules of basketball and baseball to you.
~Sar~
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