... the walrus said... to speak of other things.
Jeez Louise! On the one hand I love having the giant squid home. He cooks, orders take-out, cuddles and when he has work to do, settles me on the futon in my studio so my babies can get close enough for kissing. SweetPea and BullyBoy and I fit perfectly on the futon although BullyBoy's tail occasionally whacks the beejeebees out of SweetPea's hip which, in turn, makes the Rott mutter ugly words in his direction. This makes the giant Mastiff whimper which is just an act to get more attention. The old bloodhound sleeps on the rug and snores through the whole thing.
On the other hand, the giant squid is a bossy sort and more so when I'm not 100%. He still barks orders which I continue to ignore which tries his patience. Ha! You didn't know he had any! If he gets loud, BullyBoy stands on his hind legs and breathes lethal fumes in his face. Beer breath + doggie breath = near death. Even Navy Seals shudder at that combination. I use a lot of Binaca on that dog. Hmmm... maybe I should change the brand of beer he drinks.
So... the dominant cat in our house jumps on the futon and swats the Rott in the puss so the dog will make room for hefty 20-lb. cat. Rott says ugly word - cat hisses and spits - BullyBoy shoves both of them off the futon and I decide I'm feeling terrific and get dressed to go outside.
"Where do you think you're going, imp?" the direct descendant of Genghis Khan wants to know.
Egads! He's got eyes in the back of his head.
"I need some fresh air."
"You're gonna get some on your tush if you're not back in bed in the next five minutes, babe."
A moment of silence here as I try to come up with a witty retort.
"I've been house bound since forever," I announce, "and I'm about to climb the walls."
This is definitely not my wittiest retort.
"Three days is not forever," the anal retentive Neanderthal states. "Another day or two and you'll be much better and then you can go out."
This is supposed to make me feel better?
"Okey-dokey," I say agreeably and make a beeline for the back deck where my two outside Rotts are waiting. From there it's only a short run to the kennels where the foster pups can be released. I can play with them in the yard and the stodgy wanna-be medic in my house can simmer for a while. I know this because the phone rang - the line in his office - and that could take a while.
Oh JOY!
All the dogs get hugs and kisses and we play hide & seek and "catch me" in and around all the evergreens. Great fun and lots of tail wagging!
Until...
My tail... is suddenly way higher than it should be... over the giant squid's shoulder.
"Gotcha!"
Tsk!
Okay - short lived fun but worth it.
I know my face is a little flushed and my nose is cold but I have a feeling I'm gonna get warmed up soon. Not sure if I should be happy about this.
"What did I tell you?" he says as he meanders back to the house with ten dogs trailing us.
"You said something?" I ask in all innocence.
SWAT!
Tsk!
"You're going back to bed, imp."
Hooooo Boy! This is news!
SWAT!
Tsk!
"You going with me?" I'm ever hopeful.
"Looks like I'm gonna have to," he says so sternly I have to laugh.
SWAT!
Tsk!
"Gonna warm you up all over," he promises.
"I can live with that but I hope chocolate Twinkies are also on the menu."
SWAT!
Double Tsk!
And let's not forget... I'm an absolute saint!
~Sar~
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Imp Strikes Again!
Cowboy here again. The imp traded one flu bug for a different one and finally admitted she was feeling poorly. Right now she's in her studio surrounded by pets and sketching something for a lady that wants one of her art pieces.
She got rid of that intestinal bug, lived life in double time for a few days, then got snagged by respiratory congestion. It's her own fault. We had more snow than we're supposed to get out this way. Our neighborhood was deep in the stuff. Sar can't resist snow. Don't know why but that's how it is. As soon as the imp got out of the house she started making snowmen. Not 1 or 2 but a whole damned village!
The most respectable one was leaning against a tree holding a book in its hands - twigs actually. One female snow person - slim - well endowed - on its hands and knees - a damn snow dog sniffing its hind end. I kicked that one down the minute I saw it. Nosy neighbor across the road probably had a stroke. Two small snowmen were "peeing" on each other. Sar stuck hose nozzles in their crotches. Kicked that one down too. Maybe it's the meds I made her take - don't know how she comes by these ideas. She built a snow fort - a "cowboy" snowman bent over the top - a snow arrow in its back and a flag that read "remember the Alamo." I do not know this woman.
The neighborhood kids love my wife. Their parents are as happy as I am when the snow melts. I'm waiting to get a letter from the neighborhood homeowners association reminding us about some code that includes lewd snow people displays.
She taught 9-year old Patrick how to zap a snowball using a slingshot. They both bombarded me when I got home from work. I went after the imp when a snowball hit me in the face but before I could reach her, Patrick's snowball hit my chest. It could have been worse. Once she had the dogs jump me in the snow. As soon as I was down with 300 pounds of fur on my chest, she stuffed snow down my pants.
I waited till Patrick went home, then I got her warmed up the old fashioned way - shower, swats, some genuine lovin.
Up early the next morning. Heard the imp sneezing, grabbed the cough syrup I keep hidden so it doesn't get dumped down the sink, sneaked up behind her while she was recovering from a sneezing session and got some meds down her throat. Between the sneezing and the meds she got sleepy right away. Made her some breakfast and put her back in bed.
Sar's threatened to write a story about my ill-spent youth and post it for all to see. As long as she doesn't post pictures I can handle it.
Cowboy
She got rid of that intestinal bug, lived life in double time for a few days, then got snagged by respiratory congestion. It's her own fault. We had more snow than we're supposed to get out this way. Our neighborhood was deep in the stuff. Sar can't resist snow. Don't know why but that's how it is. As soon as the imp got out of the house she started making snowmen. Not 1 or 2 but a whole damned village!
The most respectable one was leaning against a tree holding a book in its hands - twigs actually. One female snow person - slim - well endowed - on its hands and knees - a damn snow dog sniffing its hind end. I kicked that one down the minute I saw it. Nosy neighbor across the road probably had a stroke. Two small snowmen were "peeing" on each other. Sar stuck hose nozzles in their crotches. Kicked that one down too. Maybe it's the meds I made her take - don't know how she comes by these ideas. She built a snow fort - a "cowboy" snowman bent over the top - a snow arrow in its back and a flag that read "remember the Alamo." I do not know this woman.
The neighborhood kids love my wife. Their parents are as happy as I am when the snow melts. I'm waiting to get a letter from the neighborhood homeowners association reminding us about some code that includes lewd snow people displays.
She taught 9-year old Patrick how to zap a snowball using a slingshot. They both bombarded me when I got home from work. I went after the imp when a snowball hit me in the face but before I could reach her, Patrick's snowball hit my chest. It could have been worse. Once she had the dogs jump me in the snow. As soon as I was down with 300 pounds of fur on my chest, she stuffed snow down my pants.
I waited till Patrick went home, then I got her warmed up the old fashioned way - shower, swats, some genuine lovin.
Up early the next morning. Heard the imp sneezing, grabbed the cough syrup I keep hidden so it doesn't get dumped down the sink, sneaked up behind her while she was recovering from a sneezing session and got some meds down her throat. Between the sneezing and the meds she got sleepy right away. Made her some breakfast and put her back in bed.
Sar's threatened to write a story about my ill-spent youth and post it for all to see. As long as she doesn't post pictures I can handle it.
Cowboy
Wednesday, January 10, 2007
Combat Pay
Cowboy here. Sar is sleeping off the meds I shoved down her throat. I know what you're thinking - Neanderthal.
Had to be out of town for a few days. During that time the imp got one of those flu bugs that drain your energy - upset stomach, a bit of coughing and sneezing and a bit of fever. She was just getting the flu when I had to leave. Called our friend David to come over to check up on her and he decided to stay a few days. I think it was the freezer filled with food he likes that clinched the deal.
I might be a Neanderthal but David is a marine and doesn't take any gruff - except from Sar. Let me explain it like this:
Sar feeling 100% = a sweet loving woman with a high energy level and one that embraces the world.
Sar feeling slightly under the weather = a few sniffles, a little less energy, takeout for supper, and an ingestion of a lot of hot cocoa.
Sar feeling ill and knows it = super sensitive about her health, cuddles with her pups, ignores me, avoids me, and threatens dire consequences if touched, babied, pampered, or God forbid, medicated. (This does not deter me but that's another story.)
Sar ill and not honing up to it = a loaded AK47 in one hand and a live grenade in the other. She doesn't talk - she snarls. If her wishes are defied-- she sets the dogs on you and walks out of the room. Her dogs are big. Her dogs bite.
I figure the marine has seen combat. He can handle her.
I call every day to get the damage report. So far the marine has all his limbs but a growing number of bruises. He's cussing a lot. I tell him he's a brave man. He tells me Sar would behave if I'd let him spank her. I tell him I know my wife and having a death wish is not a good thing. If Sar doesn't do him in I will.
He's feeding her chicken noodle soup and Boston cream pie. I don't know if this will make her better but she's not complaining about it. She's making him bring the foster dogs into the house 1 at a time so she can spend time with them. He suspects they are eating the soup when he isn't looking.
I get home and can tell the imp has a fever. I don't ask. I don't argue. I tackle her, lock her arms between us, hook a leg around both of hers and shove coated aspirin down her throat along with an Rx she has for intestinal discomfort. She spits, hisses, and yells every ugly word she knows-- most of which are variations of camel dung and armpit spawn. Then she falls asleep.
Asleep, she looks like an angel.
I'll make linguini for her tonight - a little butter and cheese and some personal attention and she'll be back to mischief in no time. David says I should take her to task for beating him up when he was trying to nurse her. I tell the marine he deserves combat pay and is damned lucky to be alive with all his parts attached.
Cowboy
Had to be out of town for a few days. During that time the imp got one of those flu bugs that drain your energy - upset stomach, a bit of coughing and sneezing and a bit of fever. She was just getting the flu when I had to leave. Called our friend David to come over to check up on her and he decided to stay a few days. I think it was the freezer filled with food he likes that clinched the deal.
I might be a Neanderthal but David is a marine and doesn't take any gruff - except from Sar. Let me explain it like this:
Sar feeling 100% = a sweet loving woman with a high energy level and one that embraces the world.
Sar feeling slightly under the weather = a few sniffles, a little less energy, takeout for supper, and an ingestion of a lot of hot cocoa.
Sar feeling ill and knows it = super sensitive about her health, cuddles with her pups, ignores me, avoids me, and threatens dire consequences if touched, babied, pampered, or God forbid, medicated. (This does not deter me but that's another story.)
Sar ill and not honing up to it = a loaded AK47 in one hand and a live grenade in the other. She doesn't talk - she snarls. If her wishes are defied-- she sets the dogs on you and walks out of the room. Her dogs are big. Her dogs bite.
I figure the marine has seen combat. He can handle her.
I call every day to get the damage report. So far the marine has all his limbs but a growing number of bruises. He's cussing a lot. I tell him he's a brave man. He tells me Sar would behave if I'd let him spank her. I tell him I know my wife and having a death wish is not a good thing. If Sar doesn't do him in I will.
He's feeding her chicken noodle soup and Boston cream pie. I don't know if this will make her better but she's not complaining about it. She's making him bring the foster dogs into the house 1 at a time so she can spend time with them. He suspects they are eating the soup when he isn't looking.
I get home and can tell the imp has a fever. I don't ask. I don't argue. I tackle her, lock her arms between us, hook a leg around both of hers and shove coated aspirin down her throat along with an Rx she has for intestinal discomfort. She spits, hisses, and yells every ugly word she knows-- most of which are variations of camel dung and armpit spawn. Then she falls asleep.
Asleep, she looks like an angel.
I'll make linguini for her tonight - a little butter and cheese and some personal attention and she'll be back to mischief in no time. David says I should take her to task for beating him up when he was trying to nurse her. I tell the marine he deserves combat pay and is damned lucky to be alive with all his parts attached.
Cowboy
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Brand New Year!
Happy happy and sincere wishes for good things in the coming year! I have resolved to eat more chocolate, finish writing my upteen unfinished stories and get into new and more creative mischief.
However... I ended 2006 with a fabulous RUN AMOK week!
Cowboy banned water guns from the house a few years back when I had an unfortunate incident with the base commandant... Briefly... I was aiming for the giant squid but he happened to move just as I fired my gun. Tragically... the base commandant was standing behind Cowboy and I hit him instead. 'Twas a very sad but hilarious scene and I still haven't lived it down.
Santa brought me a super duper sized water gun. I suspect it was really David, who couldn't care less about a NAVY base commandant - since he's a marine - but this way, he denies all guilt.
Oh JOY!
Naturally I couldn't wait to try it out. I filled it with ICE water and... red finger paint... and shook it till it had the texture of loose jello and was gooey and then I aimed.
I shot Mr. Snowman... aimed for his belly but hit him a little lower... that was not pretty. The neighborhood kids ran around saying I had killed the snow people. Desperate to live up to my new reputation, I jogged around the neighborhood and shot a LOT of snow people.
Someone called the police... They came out and surveyed my handiwork and when they stopped laughing long enough to pick themselves up off the ground, asked if I had ever used a Taser gun...
"YOU ARE NOT GETTING A TASER!" you-know-who roared.
Crumb.
Later, the outside Rotts and I played war photojournalists... The large dogs stalked anyone who came into the backyard and when the "enemy" was pinned to the ground, I came in and shot them - first with my water gun, then with my camera. Wonderful ammunition to have on hand if an occasion for bribery arises. In my life, that's often. We had a lot of snow so the ground was bleeding red. It was quite wonderful.
"I didn't know you had such a cruel streak, bambina," the giant squid grumbled as he tried to wipe red jello goop off his sweats.
"Ha! You didn't know me when I was a kid."
"Terror of the neighborhood, huh?"
"Tsk. I was one of the shorter ones in my crowd. No one ever suspected me."
"Give me that water gun before you do serious damage," he said in such a calm voice...
"Oh sure, right away." I was prepared for this encounter. I grabbed my gallon container of red goop and ice water and got up a tree while my big Rotts kept the giant squid preoccupied. They loved this game, tackling the "alpha" male in the house and tumbling on the ground with him. I continued using him for target practice and the pups kept drowning him in slobber as they licked the jello off his v-a-r-i-o-u-s body parts. I took GREAT pics!
Cowboy made some very ugly noises... tsk. Such language out of an officer and a gentleman. I told him so, too and when he got free of the pups, he ZIPPED up the tree. Never would have thought such an o-l-d man could still do that.
SWAT!
Tsk.
We ended up in the snow with water gun residue and dog slobber all over us and I was laughing and hiccuping and the squid was rubbing goop all over my face. I stuffed snow down his pants and he yelled and the Rotts jumped him and we rolled and I laughed again and threw the water gun away from me and Tank, my big Rott, grabbed it and took it into his kennel and Cowboy wasn't able to confiscate it - yet.
Great fun! But Cowboy plays dirty... so... lady that I am...
"Any chance of cobbler this week, imp?"
"Sure," I agreed and made apple cobbler, blueberry cobbler, pear cobbler, apricot cobbler, and plum cobbler.
"Very tasty," he said and gave me a swat.
Tsk.
"Dare I ask for peach pie?"
"Sure, ask away." And I baked apple pie, cherry pie, blueberry pie, pecan pie, and a Boston Cream pie for David.
Two swats!
Tsk.
"Peaches aren't in season," I told him.
"Pink butts are!"
Jeez. I ran up the stairs... he followed me... etc.
Went to the mall New Year's Eve day - took Cowboy's credit card - found LOTS of things on sale. I only bought the very basic necessities: Chocolate, new shoes, chocolate, new sexy undies, chocolate, new ceramic pie pans from Holland - gorgeous - and I picked up some chocolate.
Some of the Neanderthal's o-l-d buddies dropped in during RUN AMOK week... They wanted to see his gun/rifle collection. When I heard...
"SAR!!" at an extremely loud volume, I knew they had discovered the tiny water pistol I had put in his gun cabinet for safe keeping, also the slingshot... my prize marble shooter, and the yo-yo...
Tsk. Now I may never get that stash of Lindt chocolates I hid behind that big long pistol he got in an auction somewhere on the other side of the world a hundred years ago and one that he thinks is some kind of prize weapon. Tsk. Men and their toys.
Which is more important? Guns or chocolate? Don't bother to answer. I know you know the pecking order.
I gave Ms.HairUpHerAss a big basket of brownies - the good kind. She was so suspicious she refused to eat any and insisted the marines and sailors visiting my house should have them. They ate them with gusto and Ms.HairUpHerAss has a new respect for these fighting men. "They are so brave," she gushed, thinking they could eat my "special" brownies and not feel any ill effects.
Tsk.
"Don't worry," Cowboy grumbled. "If she wants to take them down, they're toast."
Double tsk.
I taught Patrick how to use my water gun. Strike one.
I showed Peeper Patterson how to get a porn site on his computer. Strike two.
I made a tunnel-of-fudge cake and ate the whole thing by myself. Strike three.
I gave Patrick a teeny tiny frog (from the pet store) to take to school for show 'n tell. His teacher is one of those hair-in-a-bun-'n-orthopedic-shoes squeamish types. Strike four.
I sent the base commandant good wishes for the holiday season. He called Cowboy to ask him not to leave me "unattended" on his base. Tsk. Strike five.
I sent the base medical staff homemade bread dough to be baked at their leisure. Apparently, I used a little too much yeast... oops - the dough ROSE and ROSE and ROSE... Strike Six. Tsk. Did they think it was a new age weapon? Scared the beejeebees out of them. Put a HUGE smile on my face, though.
I pinched Cowboy's butt every time I got close enough to do so... in the middle of all the holiday festivities we attended. He can really jump HIGH. ~ sigh ~ Another strike.
"My butt is practically black and blue," he grumbled in the shower one night.
"Well mine gets pink far too often," I grumbled right back.
"We could make it red," he threatened.
"You could eat out for the rest of your life," I intoned.
"As long as you sleep with me," he groaned when I pinched him again.
And yeah... the band played on.
~Sar~
However... I ended 2006 with a fabulous RUN AMOK week!
Cowboy banned water guns from the house a few years back when I had an unfortunate incident with the base commandant... Briefly... I was aiming for the giant squid but he happened to move just as I fired my gun. Tragically... the base commandant was standing behind Cowboy and I hit him instead. 'Twas a very sad but hilarious scene and I still haven't lived it down.
Santa brought me a super duper sized water gun. I suspect it was really David, who couldn't care less about a NAVY base commandant - since he's a marine - but this way, he denies all guilt.
Oh JOY!
Naturally I couldn't wait to try it out. I filled it with ICE water and... red finger paint... and shook it till it had the texture of loose jello and was gooey and then I aimed.
I shot Mr. Snowman... aimed for his belly but hit him a little lower... that was not pretty. The neighborhood kids ran around saying I had killed the snow people. Desperate to live up to my new reputation, I jogged around the neighborhood and shot a LOT of snow people.
Someone called the police... They came out and surveyed my handiwork and when they stopped laughing long enough to pick themselves up off the ground, asked if I had ever used a Taser gun...
"YOU ARE NOT GETTING A TASER!" you-know-who roared.
Crumb.
Later, the outside Rotts and I played war photojournalists... The large dogs stalked anyone who came into the backyard and when the "enemy" was pinned to the ground, I came in and shot them - first with my water gun, then with my camera. Wonderful ammunition to have on hand if an occasion for bribery arises. In my life, that's often. We had a lot of snow so the ground was bleeding red. It was quite wonderful.
"I didn't know you had such a cruel streak, bambina," the giant squid grumbled as he tried to wipe red jello goop off his sweats.
"Ha! You didn't know me when I was a kid."
"Terror of the neighborhood, huh?"
"Tsk. I was one of the shorter ones in my crowd. No one ever suspected me."
"Give me that water gun before you do serious damage," he said in such a calm voice...
"Oh sure, right away." I was prepared for this encounter. I grabbed my gallon container of red goop and ice water and got up a tree while my big Rotts kept the giant squid preoccupied. They loved this game, tackling the "alpha" male in the house and tumbling on the ground with him. I continued using him for target practice and the pups kept drowning him in slobber as they licked the jello off his v-a-r-i-o-u-s body parts. I took GREAT pics!
Cowboy made some very ugly noises... tsk. Such language out of an officer and a gentleman. I told him so, too and when he got free of the pups, he ZIPPED up the tree. Never would have thought such an o-l-d man could still do that.
SWAT!
Tsk.
We ended up in the snow with water gun residue and dog slobber all over us and I was laughing and hiccuping and the squid was rubbing goop all over my face. I stuffed snow down his pants and he yelled and the Rotts jumped him and we rolled and I laughed again and threw the water gun away from me and Tank, my big Rott, grabbed it and took it into his kennel and Cowboy wasn't able to confiscate it - yet.
Great fun! But Cowboy plays dirty... so... lady that I am...
"Any chance of cobbler this week, imp?"
"Sure," I agreed and made apple cobbler, blueberry cobbler, pear cobbler, apricot cobbler, and plum cobbler.
"Very tasty," he said and gave me a swat.
Tsk.
"Dare I ask for peach pie?"
"Sure, ask away." And I baked apple pie, cherry pie, blueberry pie, pecan pie, and a Boston Cream pie for David.
Two swats!
Tsk.
"Peaches aren't in season," I told him.
"Pink butts are!"
Jeez. I ran up the stairs... he followed me... etc.
Went to the mall New Year's Eve day - took Cowboy's credit card - found LOTS of things on sale. I only bought the very basic necessities: Chocolate, new shoes, chocolate, new sexy undies, chocolate, new ceramic pie pans from Holland - gorgeous - and I picked up some chocolate.
Some of the Neanderthal's o-l-d buddies dropped in during RUN AMOK week... They wanted to see his gun/rifle collection. When I heard...
"SAR!!" at an extremely loud volume, I knew they had discovered the tiny water pistol I had put in his gun cabinet for safe keeping, also the slingshot... my prize marble shooter, and the yo-yo...
Tsk. Now I may never get that stash of Lindt chocolates I hid behind that big long pistol he got in an auction somewhere on the other side of the world a hundred years ago and one that he thinks is some kind of prize weapon. Tsk. Men and their toys.
Which is more important? Guns or chocolate? Don't bother to answer. I know you know the pecking order.
I gave Ms.HairUpHerAss a big basket of brownies - the good kind. She was so suspicious she refused to eat any and insisted the marines and sailors visiting my house should have them. They ate them with gusto and Ms.HairUpHerAss has a new respect for these fighting men. "They are so brave," she gushed, thinking they could eat my "special" brownies and not feel any ill effects.
Tsk.
"Don't worry," Cowboy grumbled. "If she wants to take them down, they're toast."
Double tsk.
I taught Patrick how to use my water gun. Strike one.
I showed Peeper Patterson how to get a porn site on his computer. Strike two.
I made a tunnel-of-fudge cake and ate the whole thing by myself. Strike three.
I gave Patrick a teeny tiny frog (from the pet store) to take to school for show 'n tell. His teacher is one of those hair-in-a-bun-'n-orthopedic-shoes squeamish types. Strike four.
I sent the base commandant good wishes for the holiday season. He called Cowboy to ask him not to leave me "unattended" on his base. Tsk. Strike five.
I sent the base medical staff homemade bread dough to be baked at their leisure. Apparently, I used a little too much yeast... oops - the dough ROSE and ROSE and ROSE... Strike Six. Tsk. Did they think it was a new age weapon? Scared the beejeebees out of them. Put a HUGE smile on my face, though.
I pinched Cowboy's butt every time I got close enough to do so... in the middle of all the holiday festivities we attended. He can really jump HIGH. ~ sigh ~ Another strike.
"My butt is practically black and blue," he grumbled in the shower one night.
"Well mine gets pink far too often," I grumbled right back.
"We could make it red," he threatened.
"You could eat out for the rest of your life," I intoned.
"As long as you sleep with me," he groaned when I pinched him again.
And yeah... the band played on.
~Sar~
Wednesday, December 27, 2006
Happy! Happy! Joy! Joy!
It's RUN AMOK Week!
First - to catch up on a few things. We were without electricity for 10 days - got it back the morning of Christmas Eve. Our guests all went home and Cowboy and I had a chance to enjoy that evening by ourselves.
Nine-year old Patrick made a HUGE sign for Cowboy to put on the roof for Santa. It said "Use the front door! There's a fire burning." Patrick told the giant squid that the jolly fellow would burn his ass if he went down the chimney.
"You been talking to Sar about this?" Cowboy asked.
"Yep."
"SAR!"
Jeez! Blame me! Tsk.
We kept the generator running for the day in spite of having the power back. It had been keeping the refrigerator/freezer going and maintained the heat for the dog kennels through the power outage. Since the foster pups will eventually live indoors in their new homes, I rotated them through the house - each one spending a night in our family room with us. We were all huddled in sleeping bags in front of the fire. Dogs go a little nutso when you sleep at ground level. They like to cuddle around you and the giant squid wasn't exactly thrilled when my pups lay down on either side of me leaving no room for him.
"Can't they go sleep by Patrick?" he growled.
"Try and move them," I suggested.
"Out!" he yelled.
The pups were suddenly deaf and didn't budge. I couldn't help myself. I laughed.
The sneaky Neanderthal took a large chunk of roasted chicken out of the fridge and started nibbling on it in front of them. The pups still didn't move but started whining. Dirty pool! I told them to kiss the squid... They did and stole the chicken. As soon as they moved away from me, Cowboy jumped into the sleeping bag beside me. Now I have to get that chicken smell out of my carpets. Tsk.
The Labs need a lot of work to live in a house - their tails wag constantly and knock things over. The Briard is a snoop and has figured out how to open kitchen cabinets. Putting baby locks on them this week. The Schnauzer thinks the fireplace is his and objects strenuously when told to move. The Bouvie has a crush on the refrigerator and cat-like, he rubs up against it. As long as he doesn't lift his leg...
The morning of the 26th I hopped out of bed and at the top of the stairs I yelled "It's RUN AMOK Week!" Then I slid down the banister... right into the giant squid's arms. Where did he come from? Tsk.
SWAT!
Double tsk.
"It's a free zone," I reminded him.
"In your dreams, imp."
"You're not playing by the rules," I huffed.
"My house, my rules," the Neanderthal grumbled.
"Oh yeah?" I grabbed his yummy stick and changed the rules.
"Okay," he groaned, changing his mind. "Time for you to run amok on top of me."
... and the band played on...
~Sar~
P.S. Woke up this morning to three inches of snow! S-N-O-W! And more on the way. Time to make more snow people. I'm thinking Mr. Snowman should be macho - v-e-r-y macho. Ms Snow Woman needs panties and a demi-bra. ... And I need a snow fort with lots of ammunition for when the giant squid sees the new front yard decorations.
First - to catch up on a few things. We were without electricity for 10 days - got it back the morning of Christmas Eve. Our guests all went home and Cowboy and I had a chance to enjoy that evening by ourselves.
Nine-year old Patrick made a HUGE sign for Cowboy to put on the roof for Santa. It said "Use the front door! There's a fire burning." Patrick told the giant squid that the jolly fellow would burn his ass if he went down the chimney.
"You been talking to Sar about this?" Cowboy asked.
"Yep."
"SAR!"
Jeez! Blame me! Tsk.
We kept the generator running for the day in spite of having the power back. It had been keeping the refrigerator/freezer going and maintained the heat for the dog kennels through the power outage. Since the foster pups will eventually live indoors in their new homes, I rotated them through the house - each one spending a night in our family room with us. We were all huddled in sleeping bags in front of the fire. Dogs go a little nutso when you sleep at ground level. They like to cuddle around you and the giant squid wasn't exactly thrilled when my pups lay down on either side of me leaving no room for him.
"Can't they go sleep by Patrick?" he growled.
"Try and move them," I suggested.
"Out!" he yelled.
The pups were suddenly deaf and didn't budge. I couldn't help myself. I laughed.
The sneaky Neanderthal took a large chunk of roasted chicken out of the fridge and started nibbling on it in front of them. The pups still didn't move but started whining. Dirty pool! I told them to kiss the squid... They did and stole the chicken. As soon as they moved away from me, Cowboy jumped into the sleeping bag beside me. Now I have to get that chicken smell out of my carpets. Tsk.
The Labs need a lot of work to live in a house - their tails wag constantly and knock things over. The Briard is a snoop and has figured out how to open kitchen cabinets. Putting baby locks on them this week. The Schnauzer thinks the fireplace is his and objects strenuously when told to move. The Bouvie has a crush on the refrigerator and cat-like, he rubs up against it. As long as he doesn't lift his leg...
The morning of the 26th I hopped out of bed and at the top of the stairs I yelled "It's RUN AMOK Week!" Then I slid down the banister... right into the giant squid's arms. Where did he come from? Tsk.
SWAT!
Double tsk.
"It's a free zone," I reminded him.
"In your dreams, imp."
"You're not playing by the rules," I huffed.
"My house, my rules," the Neanderthal grumbled.
"Oh yeah?" I grabbed his yummy stick and changed the rules.
"Okay," he groaned, changing his mind. "Time for you to run amok on top of me."
... and the band played on...
~Sar~
P.S. Woke up this morning to three inches of snow! S-N-O-W! And more on the way. Time to make more snow people. I'm thinking Mr. Snowman should be macho - v-e-r-y macho. Ms Snow Woman needs panties and a demi-bra. ... And I need a snow fort with lots of ammunition for when the giant squid sees the new front yard decorations.
Saturday, December 23, 2006
Naughty or Nice?
Guess which category Sar fits into.
Cowboy here. Had a wild windstorm hit the area and we lost electricity over a week ago. Expecting it back around Christmas day. I'm posting this from my office at the base so no one thinks Sar is ignoring your emails, etc.
We have a gas stovetop so Sar has made stews and chowders and chili and other warm foods to keep us comfortable. Our young friend Patrick is staying with us along with his mother. They're more comfortable in our home where we have a fireplace blazing than in their house that is currently without heat. Most of the western part of our state has been without power. David just returned from England and is also with us. He lives in the San Juans where power is not expected back till after Christmas.
Sar *ordered* him to order a marine unit to check on our neighbors to make sure all had adequate heat and food. She also has them delivering stew and chili to those caught without food. Grocery stores are just now reopening so that won't be a problem for long.
Our neighbor, Mr. Patterson - who watches Sar dance-- is also with us. He just celebrated his 98th birthday and is quite fragile. Sar dotes on him and the old guy really loves all that attention.
The imp is too busy for her normal mischief but she assures me she'll make up for it after Christmas. I believe her. In the meantime, she's not eating much, not sleeping enough and in general, making me crazy. The occasional swat barely slows her momentum. I may have to live up to my reputation as a barbaric Neanderthal and get to the seat of the problem.
Both of us wish you a happy holiday season and a New Year filled with the promise of peace.
Cowboy
Cowboy here. Had a wild windstorm hit the area and we lost electricity over a week ago. Expecting it back around Christmas day. I'm posting this from my office at the base so no one thinks Sar is ignoring your emails, etc.
We have a gas stovetop so Sar has made stews and chowders and chili and other warm foods to keep us comfortable. Our young friend Patrick is staying with us along with his mother. They're more comfortable in our home where we have a fireplace blazing than in their house that is currently without heat. Most of the western part of our state has been without power. David just returned from England and is also with us. He lives in the San Juans where power is not expected back till after Christmas.
Sar *ordered* him to order a marine unit to check on our neighbors to make sure all had adequate heat and food. She also has them delivering stew and chili to those caught without food. Grocery stores are just now reopening so that won't be a problem for long.
Our neighbor, Mr. Patterson - who watches Sar dance-- is also with us. He just celebrated his 98th birthday and is quite fragile. Sar dotes on him and the old guy really loves all that attention.
The imp is too busy for her normal mischief but she assures me she'll make up for it after Christmas. I believe her. In the meantime, she's not eating much, not sleeping enough and in general, making me crazy. The occasional swat barely slows her momentum. I may have to live up to my reputation as a barbaric Neanderthal and get to the seat of the problem.
Both of us wish you a happy holiday season and a New Year filled with the promise of peace.
Cowboy
Monday, December 11, 2006
Not My Fault!
December is a particularly hard month for some of us. I don't mean the holiday stress - planning, shopping, baking, entertaining, et al. I mean the "being good" stuff. Just how much of this "good" stuff are we supposed to endure?
Between you and me I have totally outgooded myself. I'm not sure I can remain civil if one more hostess offers me a "green" tidbit to sample.
"Ohhhhhh Sar, these are delicious and so good for you!"
If they're *that* good, I'll share. She can have mine.
"Cowboy would love for you to sample these," another hostess smiled as she waved a tray of unidentified green uglies under my nose. Her smile was evil.
"Cowboy is a big boy; he can tell me himself."
"SAR!"
Jeez!
"You're serving a veggie platter with dip at our cocktail party, aren't you imp?" the Neanderthal wanted to know.
"Of course I am, dear."
How in blazes would I get rid of all those veggies otherwise?
On a "goodness" streak, I donated a lot of old clothes to various agencies - mostly Cowboy's. I mean... how many belts does one man need?
"Where the hell is my navy belt?"
"I bought you some suspenders, dear."
SWAT!
Tsk.
I cleaned out the produce drawer and generously donated the green goodies to the food bank.
"How about broccoli with dinner tonight?" Guess who said that.
"The grocery store was alllll out of broccoli, dear."
SWAT!
Tsk.
A couple of weeks ago we had a rare snowstorm - got about 10 inches of the white stuff piled up. Naturally I made anatomically correct snow people in the front yard so the neighbors would be entertained as they drove by. I placed one of Cowboy's Navy covers (hat) on Mr. Snow Man along with one of his ties. Mrs. Snow Woman got one of my scarves and my pink leg warmers. Truly, a very lovely couple, very modern, too. "She" had implants and a Brazilian cut.
"Why the hell did you use one of my covers on that naked snow man?"
Tsk. He sounded irate.
"Snow men are supposed to wear a hat and a scarf and mittens," he continued. "They are not supposed to be nudists. And if you made her boobs any bigger, she'd fall over."
"I should have used a thicker longer carrot for the yummy stick?"
SWAT!
Tsk.
I took photos of course and wanted to use them for our Christmas cards. The giant squid vetoed that idea. I don't know why; the dangling bits were all lovingly formed. Hmmm... maybe I should have used a celery stalk instead of a carrot? Nooooo... celery has all that wavy stuff on the sides and at the end. An erect celery stalk wouldn't have worked. Of course... an orange yummy stick makes you think Mr. Snow Man is coming down with jaundice.
The squid was really relieved that the snow people melted so quickly but I have a sneaky feeling he used my hair dryer to help it along.
And I was on such a "good" streak, too. Double tsk.
All the stress of being good finally got to me. I know. I know. You thought I was an angel alllll the time. I confess. Sometimes, I'm just slightly less angelic.
What happened was...
Ms. HairUpHerAss came over with her inedible fruitcake. She brings one every year. Every year the pups sniff it and go hide so I don't force them to take a bite. This year... DomTom the cat... was encouraged to help himself to the giant squid's glass of Baileys... and then was encouraged to eat the leftover sushi sitting on the kitchen counter. A little Baileys, a little sushi, a little Baileys...
When Ms. HairUpHerAss unwrapped the fruitcake so we could all admire the perfectly formed and inedible don't-drop-it-on-your-foot door stopper, DomTom leaped to the table (which he never does) and hurled a GIANT hair ball right on TOP of the fruitcake.
"SAR!"
Jeez! I didn't hurl the hair ball.
Ms. HairUpHerAss was a bit miffed but I consoled her with one of my chocolate lime pies. I must reward that cat with fresh catnip.
As she waddled back to her house, Cowboy said, "Well at least you didn't call her Ms. HairUpHerAss to her face."
Honestly... she way she walks... she looks more and more like Ms. CornCobUpHerButt.
~Sar~
Between you and me I have totally outgooded myself. I'm not sure I can remain civil if one more hostess offers me a "green" tidbit to sample.
"Ohhhhhh Sar, these are delicious and so good for you!"
If they're *that* good, I'll share. She can have mine.
"Cowboy would love for you to sample these," another hostess smiled as she waved a tray of unidentified green uglies under my nose. Her smile was evil.
"Cowboy is a big boy; he can tell me himself."
"SAR!"
Jeez!
"You're serving a veggie platter with dip at our cocktail party, aren't you imp?" the Neanderthal wanted to know.
"Of course I am, dear."
How in blazes would I get rid of all those veggies otherwise?
On a "goodness" streak, I donated a lot of old clothes to various agencies - mostly Cowboy's. I mean... how many belts does one man need?
"Where the hell is my navy belt?"
"I bought you some suspenders, dear."
SWAT!
Tsk.
I cleaned out the produce drawer and generously donated the green goodies to the food bank.
"How about broccoli with dinner tonight?" Guess who said that.
"The grocery store was alllll out of broccoli, dear."
SWAT!
Tsk.
A couple of weeks ago we had a rare snowstorm - got about 10 inches of the white stuff piled up. Naturally I made anatomically correct snow people in the front yard so the neighbors would be entertained as they drove by. I placed one of Cowboy's Navy covers (hat) on Mr. Snow Man along with one of his ties. Mrs. Snow Woman got one of my scarves and my pink leg warmers. Truly, a very lovely couple, very modern, too. "She" had implants and a Brazilian cut.
"Why the hell did you use one of my covers on that naked snow man?"
Tsk. He sounded irate.
"Snow men are supposed to wear a hat and a scarf and mittens," he continued. "They are not supposed to be nudists. And if you made her boobs any bigger, she'd fall over."
"I should have used a thicker longer carrot for the yummy stick?"
SWAT!
Tsk.
I took photos of course and wanted to use them for our Christmas cards. The giant squid vetoed that idea. I don't know why; the dangling bits were all lovingly formed. Hmmm... maybe I should have used a celery stalk instead of a carrot? Nooooo... celery has all that wavy stuff on the sides and at the end. An erect celery stalk wouldn't have worked. Of course... an orange yummy stick makes you think Mr. Snow Man is coming down with jaundice.
The squid was really relieved that the snow people melted so quickly but I have a sneaky feeling he used my hair dryer to help it along.
And I was on such a "good" streak, too. Double tsk.
All the stress of being good finally got to me. I know. I know. You thought I was an angel alllll the time. I confess. Sometimes, I'm just slightly less angelic.
What happened was...
Ms. HairUpHerAss came over with her inedible fruitcake. She brings one every year. Every year the pups sniff it and go hide so I don't force them to take a bite. This year... DomTom the cat... was encouraged to help himself to the giant squid's glass of Baileys... and then was encouraged to eat the leftover sushi sitting on the kitchen counter. A little Baileys, a little sushi, a little Baileys...
When Ms. HairUpHerAss unwrapped the fruitcake so we could all admire the perfectly formed and inedible don't-drop-it-on-your-foot door stopper, DomTom leaped to the table (which he never does) and hurled a GIANT hair ball right on TOP of the fruitcake.
"SAR!"
Jeez! I didn't hurl the hair ball.
Ms. HairUpHerAss was a bit miffed but I consoled her with one of my chocolate lime pies. I must reward that cat with fresh catnip.
As she waddled back to her house, Cowboy said, "Well at least you didn't call her Ms. HairUpHerAss to her face."
Honestly... she way she walks... she looks more and more like Ms. CornCobUpHerButt.
~Sar~
Monday, December 04, 2006
Advance Notice!
With all the preparations for Christmas and sugar plums dancing in our heads, it's so easy to forget that December 26th isn't just Boxing Day! It's the beginning of RUN AMOK week!
~ sigh ~
My favorite week of the year.
Just a reminder: As soon as Santa gets back to the North Pole and sits down with a glass of eggnog, Mrs. Claus SHREDS the "naughty & nice" lists.
SHREDS!
Oh JOY!
The new list doesn't start until January 1st!
December 25 is the day you bask in whatever it is you bask in. For me, it's usually coffee with chicory and a big chunk of something wonderful... other than the giant squid although I like to get a big chunk of that, too.
That leaves December 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30 - 31 to RUN AMOK! Is that the most fabulous thing ever!
Quick! Mark your calendars in RED! A free zone!
Now some of you Scroogie types are going to say that RUN AMOK week isn't printed on any calendar you ever bought. Pish and posh! Calendar makers are male. Need I say more? You have a computer and a printer. Make your own. So when the Scrooge in your life says "show me where this week is on the calendar," you can show him yours.
I used to keep RUN AMOK week a secret from the giant squid until I actually did something that made his eyebrows arch into the stratosphere. Then I would calmly remind him that it's the time of year when I'm entitled to get a free pass at anything I want to do. Needless to say, being a Neanderthal, he has his own opinions about that. But... when it's RUN AMOK week I ignore his ramblings and do what I want to do anyway. (Just a helpful hint: It's best to keep running shoes on when one is running amok. Having a very large dog with big teeth also helps; two dogs are better.)
Now I remind the giant squid that RUN AMOK week is coming so when I actually do something that raises his blood pressure - and not in a good way - I tell him that it should not have been a surprise because I did warn him in advance.
His arm still tenses and I'm sure his palms itch because he tends to rub his hands together and... that's when I'm happy I remembered to have my running shoes on.
I like to plan a few happy events for RUN AMOK week. This year I'm thinking...
I'll send an artificial tree to our friend David. It's small and will fit on his office desk or credenza. Such a lovely and unique tree, too. I know the WHOLE staff will enjoy it. It has a naked lady at the top that spins around... the nipples light up... one at a time... on, off, on, off. He's currently in England. I know he's going to be so surprised when he gets back. Maybe I better include extra batteries.
"You better not be sending any surprise gifts, imp," the giant Neanderthal warned me.
"Not me," Sar the innocent replied. I can wait until RUN AMOK week to do that. I will, however, let some other folks send things for me. That doesn't count, right?
We have a LOT of stockings hanging on the mantle. There's one for each of us, the pets have their own and a few for others - David has one, Patrick has one, so does Bull and there's two with no names for unexpected guests. I have finished and mailed Christmas cards and the presents are wrapped. Cake's in the oven and a couple of lumps of coal... are hidden in case I need to add that to someone's stocking - just to weigh it down, of course. Dozens and dozens of "spank me sweetly" cards are done and stuffed into the squid's stocking in a velvet box. Do you think that's too many? He's getting o-l-d. He may not have the strength for all that...
My friend Alli sent FOUR buckets of "death by chocolate" body paint. One bucket has raspberries mixed in with the chocolate. I'm saving these for RUN AMOK week. I better make sure the giant squid gets plenty of rest on Christmas day so he can do giant squid things with that chocolate paint.
New subject: Pups
The new pups are really a sweet bunch. The Labs are on the goofy side, trying to sway me with kisses when I tell them "NO!" The Briard actually rolls his eyes when I give him my look of disappointment. I have a feeling he's plotting his next move. The Schnauzer yawns a lot - that is not a good sign. The Bouvie thinks he's a Rott. He leans against my hip and throws his head back to look up at me. He's also a flirt and is very interested in my female Rott, Panda. She is currently ignoring him but her mate, Tank, is not at all amused.
One of the Labs got in the house when I left the back door slightly ajar. He spied DomTom, the 20-lb. cat, and went after him with teeth bared. Poor misguided 100-lb. pup. DomTom beat the beejeebees out of him. Lab scooted out of the house with the cat chasing him and spent the morning hiding in his kennel. Have I ever mentioned that DomTom rules our house?
"Why is that sorry excuse for a cat chasing that dog?" asked the tall fellow in uniform as he gazed out the kitchen window.
DomTom and Cowboy do not care for each other. The cat does not recognize the giant squid as the alpha male in our home and the giant squid does not understand how I can love a creature he generally refers to as "a waste of fur." Tsk.
Meanwhile, all the pups "heel" fairly well now though they need a lot more practice. All "sit" most of the time. Only the Labs "stay" but all "come" when called. Good progress for just a little over a week. I plan to write updates on each of them eventually. Look for those updates in "Dog Tales" on the right side of the blog.
Also on the right side are "Recipes." Formatting the recipes is a little time consuming; I'm trying to add a few each week. You "peach cobbler" and "cream cheese waffle" lovers will get yours, too. I'm wading through dozens of variations so I choose the best ones.
"You're posting peach cobbler instructions?" Mr. Peach wanted to know.
"Uh huh."
"You know... you should test each one of them before doing that," he smiled. He rubbed his tummy at the same time.
See Sar. See Sar roll her eyes.
SWAT!
Hear Sar laugh.
See Sar run.
See giant squid give chase.
See giant squid grab Sar and close bedroom door.
~Sar~
~ sigh ~
My favorite week of the year.
Just a reminder: As soon as Santa gets back to the North Pole and sits down with a glass of eggnog, Mrs. Claus SHREDS the "naughty & nice" lists.
SHREDS!
Oh JOY!
The new list doesn't start until January 1st!
December 25 is the day you bask in whatever it is you bask in. For me, it's usually coffee with chicory and a big chunk of something wonderful... other than the giant squid although I like to get a big chunk of that, too.
That leaves December 26 - 27 - 28 - 29 - 30 - 31 to RUN AMOK! Is that the most fabulous thing ever!
Quick! Mark your calendars in RED! A free zone!
Now some of you Scroogie types are going to say that RUN AMOK week isn't printed on any calendar you ever bought. Pish and posh! Calendar makers are male. Need I say more? You have a computer and a printer. Make your own. So when the Scrooge in your life says "show me where this week is on the calendar," you can show him yours.
I used to keep RUN AMOK week a secret from the giant squid until I actually did something that made his eyebrows arch into the stratosphere. Then I would calmly remind him that it's the time of year when I'm entitled to get a free pass at anything I want to do. Needless to say, being a Neanderthal, he has his own opinions about that. But... when it's RUN AMOK week I ignore his ramblings and do what I want to do anyway. (Just a helpful hint: It's best to keep running shoes on when one is running amok. Having a very large dog with big teeth also helps; two dogs are better.)
Now I remind the giant squid that RUN AMOK week is coming so when I actually do something that raises his blood pressure - and not in a good way - I tell him that it should not have been a surprise because I did warn him in advance.
His arm still tenses and I'm sure his palms itch because he tends to rub his hands together and... that's when I'm happy I remembered to have my running shoes on.
I like to plan a few happy events for RUN AMOK week. This year I'm thinking...
I'll send an artificial tree to our friend David. It's small and will fit on his office desk or credenza. Such a lovely and unique tree, too. I know the WHOLE staff will enjoy it. It has a naked lady at the top that spins around... the nipples light up... one at a time... on, off, on, off. He's currently in England. I know he's going to be so surprised when he gets back. Maybe I better include extra batteries.
"You better not be sending any surprise gifts, imp," the giant Neanderthal warned me.
"Not me," Sar the innocent replied. I can wait until RUN AMOK week to do that. I will, however, let some other folks send things for me. That doesn't count, right?
We have a LOT of stockings hanging on the mantle. There's one for each of us, the pets have their own and a few for others - David has one, Patrick has one, so does Bull and there's two with no names for unexpected guests. I have finished and mailed Christmas cards and the presents are wrapped. Cake's in the oven and a couple of lumps of coal... are hidden in case I need to add that to someone's stocking - just to weigh it down, of course. Dozens and dozens of "spank me sweetly" cards are done and stuffed into the squid's stocking in a velvet box. Do you think that's too many? He's getting o-l-d. He may not have the strength for all that...
My friend Alli sent FOUR buckets of "death by chocolate" body paint. One bucket has raspberries mixed in with the chocolate. I'm saving these for RUN AMOK week. I better make sure the giant squid gets plenty of rest on Christmas day so he can do giant squid things with that chocolate paint.
New subject: Pups
The new pups are really a sweet bunch. The Labs are on the goofy side, trying to sway me with kisses when I tell them "NO!" The Briard actually rolls his eyes when I give him my look of disappointment. I have a feeling he's plotting his next move. The Schnauzer yawns a lot - that is not a good sign. The Bouvie thinks he's a Rott. He leans against my hip and throws his head back to look up at me. He's also a flirt and is very interested in my female Rott, Panda. She is currently ignoring him but her mate, Tank, is not at all amused.
One of the Labs got in the house when I left the back door slightly ajar. He spied DomTom, the 20-lb. cat, and went after him with teeth bared. Poor misguided 100-lb. pup. DomTom beat the beejeebees out of him. Lab scooted out of the house with the cat chasing him and spent the morning hiding in his kennel. Have I ever mentioned that DomTom rules our house?
"Why is that sorry excuse for a cat chasing that dog?" asked the tall fellow in uniform as he gazed out the kitchen window.
DomTom and Cowboy do not care for each other. The cat does not recognize the giant squid as the alpha male in our home and the giant squid does not understand how I can love a creature he generally refers to as "a waste of fur." Tsk.
Meanwhile, all the pups "heel" fairly well now though they need a lot more practice. All "sit" most of the time. Only the Labs "stay" but all "come" when called. Good progress for just a little over a week. I plan to write updates on each of them eventually. Look for those updates in "Dog Tales" on the right side of the blog.
Also on the right side are "Recipes." Formatting the recipes is a little time consuming; I'm trying to add a few each week. You "peach cobbler" and "cream cheese waffle" lovers will get yours, too. I'm wading through dozens of variations so I choose the best ones.
"You're posting peach cobbler instructions?" Mr. Peach wanted to know.
"Uh huh."
"You know... you should test each one of them before doing that," he smiled. He rubbed his tummy at the same time.
See Sar. See Sar roll her eyes.
SWAT!
Hear Sar laugh.
See Sar run.
See giant squid give chase.
See giant squid grab Sar and close bedroom door.
~Sar~
Saturday, November 25, 2006
Stuffed!
Cooked and baked for days and nights on end! At least, that's what it felt like. We had about forty folks over for Thanksgiving - four 20-pound turkeys, one 20-pound ham, all the trimmings and a *huge* dessert buffet. Naturally, after everyone was seated and Cowboy said grace, I started with dessert.
Everything was buffet style. There was a table for hot and cold appetizers and another for soups and salads.
While everyone headed there, I fiddled around at the dessert bar.
"SAR!!"
Jeez Louise! I cooked and baked everything. The least he could do is let me enjoy what I like most.
I quickly gobbled down a hunk of tiramisu and then joined the folks at the appetizer table. I "worked" the room, was the bestest hostess and said polite things. I even outgooded myself by thanking MsHairUpHerAss for bringing over her green bean casserole. I put a heaping helping on Cowboy's plate... I'm so good sometimes I can't believe it either. I hope Santa is taking notes.
~ sigh ~
The sight of all that "green" made me lightheaded. I hurried back to the dessert bar and ate a cream cheese brownie.
Whew! Felt much better after that.
"SAR!!"
Do you detect a pattern here?"
When it comes to Thanksgiving dinner, I can skip the turkey. I like the other stuff - stuffing! I made a few different kinds - mushroom, corn bread and oyster/mussels - 3 of my favorites. The stuffing, along with cranberry sauce (cranberries and apricots and chunks of pineapple,) sweet potato pie with lots of marshmallows, mashed potatoes that were heavy with butter and cream, and fresh hot biscuits. My kind of meal!
"There better be something green on your plate when I sit down again, imp," a giant Neanderthal muttered in my ear as he brought another turkey to the table to carve.
I put a pickle on my plate. When he glared, I added two green olives.
"These things are good," our very young friend, Patrick, said as he stuffed his mouth with green beans.
Ackkkk! I have not spent enough time with that boy! No doubt about it! The child has been deprived of the finer things in life... cheese burgers, onion rings, milkshakes, mud pie, tunnel of fudge cake... Next week I will torture him with Mac and cheese and Cracker Jacks and TWINKIES!
When I was distracted by a good looking recon marine who proposed marriage if I'd run away with him and bring my pots and pans... Cowboy did a recon maneuver of his own. He slipped a piece of honey baked ham onto my plate. I ate it without realizing it. Good thing I liked it. Tsk.
Having fulfilled my food obligations... I went back to the dessert buffet.
Can you say Heaven On Earth? ~ Swoooooon ~
I had a bite of everything. 'Twas glorious. I was so darn high on sugar I should have floated away. Instead, I was wired and so charged with energy, I bounced around my guests making sure they ate plenty - especially the green stuff.
I also slept really well that night.
The next morning, Cowboy made his traditional "after Thanksgiving" cream cheese waffles for folks who were invited to drop by. On Sunday, we'll have our annual "after Thanksgiving" brunch for the neighborhood. It used to be that was when we got rid of leftovers but we didn't have any leftovers... so as I write this, I have cake in the oven. Cowboy will make omelets; there will be bagels and smoked salmon and cream cheese and I'll make fresh apple and peach kuchen (like tarts) and this will be the official start of the holiday giving.
On another note:
The Animal Rescue rep called and asked if we could take a 5th dog... Cowboy said he had to ask me. I grabbed the phone and said yes.
SWAT!
"We should have discussed this first, imp!"
Yeah, yeah.
So, this afternoon... we are expecting the animal rescue van to drive up with...
**2 black Labs
**1 Giant Schnauzer
**1 Briard
**1 Bouvier des Flandres
...and a partridge in a pear tree.
The kennels are ready - fresh bedding and toys and I'm rushing to post this so I can go whip up a nice meal for them.
"Is there any peach pie left over?" Guess who wanted to know.
"I'll make some for you tomorrow."
"What's wrong with today?"
Sheesh! Is his timing off or what?
SWAT!
Trivia question: Who gets all testy when he's peach pie deprived?
~Sar~
Everything was buffet style. There was a table for hot and cold appetizers and another for soups and salads.
While everyone headed there, I fiddled around at the dessert bar.
"SAR!!"
Jeez Louise! I cooked and baked everything. The least he could do is let me enjoy what I like most.
I quickly gobbled down a hunk of tiramisu and then joined the folks at the appetizer table. I "worked" the room, was the bestest hostess and said polite things. I even outgooded myself by thanking MsHairUpHerAss for bringing over her green bean casserole. I put a heaping helping on Cowboy's plate... I'm so good sometimes I can't believe it either. I hope Santa is taking notes.
~ sigh ~
The sight of all that "green" made me lightheaded. I hurried back to the dessert bar and ate a cream cheese brownie.
Whew! Felt much better after that.
"SAR!!"
Do you detect a pattern here?"
When it comes to Thanksgiving dinner, I can skip the turkey. I like the other stuff - stuffing! I made a few different kinds - mushroom, corn bread and oyster/mussels - 3 of my favorites. The stuffing, along with cranberry sauce (cranberries and apricots and chunks of pineapple,) sweet potato pie with lots of marshmallows, mashed potatoes that were heavy with butter and cream, and fresh hot biscuits. My kind of meal!
"There better be something green on your plate when I sit down again, imp," a giant Neanderthal muttered in my ear as he brought another turkey to the table to carve.
I put a pickle on my plate. When he glared, I added two green olives.
"These things are good," our very young friend, Patrick, said as he stuffed his mouth with green beans.
Ackkkk! I have not spent enough time with that boy! No doubt about it! The child has been deprived of the finer things in life... cheese burgers, onion rings, milkshakes, mud pie, tunnel of fudge cake... Next week I will torture him with Mac and cheese and Cracker Jacks and TWINKIES!
When I was distracted by a good looking recon marine who proposed marriage if I'd run away with him and bring my pots and pans... Cowboy did a recon maneuver of his own. He slipped a piece of honey baked ham onto my plate. I ate it without realizing it. Good thing I liked it. Tsk.
Having fulfilled my food obligations... I went back to the dessert buffet.
Can you say Heaven On Earth? ~ Swoooooon ~
I had a bite of everything. 'Twas glorious. I was so darn high on sugar I should have floated away. Instead, I was wired and so charged with energy, I bounced around my guests making sure they ate plenty - especially the green stuff.
I also slept really well that night.
The next morning, Cowboy made his traditional "after Thanksgiving" cream cheese waffles for folks who were invited to drop by. On Sunday, we'll have our annual "after Thanksgiving" brunch for the neighborhood. It used to be that was when we got rid of leftovers but we didn't have any leftovers... so as I write this, I have cake in the oven. Cowboy will make omelets; there will be bagels and smoked salmon and cream cheese and I'll make fresh apple and peach kuchen (like tarts) and this will be the official start of the holiday giving.
On another note:
The Animal Rescue rep called and asked if we could take a 5th dog... Cowboy said he had to ask me. I grabbed the phone and said yes.
SWAT!
"We should have discussed this first, imp!"
Yeah, yeah.
So, this afternoon... we are expecting the animal rescue van to drive up with...
**2 black Labs
**1 Giant Schnauzer
**1 Briard
**1 Bouvier des Flandres
...and a partridge in a pear tree.
The kennels are ready - fresh bedding and toys and I'm rushing to post this so I can go whip up a nice meal for them.
"Is there any peach pie left over?" Guess who wanted to know.
"I'll make some for you tomorrow."
"What's wrong with today?"
Sheesh! Is his timing off or what?
SWAT!
Trivia question: Who gets all testy when he's peach pie deprived?
~Sar~
Friday, November 17, 2006
Home Again
It's astounding how quickly most of us acclimated to the computer and are addicted/dependent on it for our daily fix. Of course, some folks need this wonderful tool for their work, others to keep in touch with friends and family and the world at large. When we're offline for a while, it's a horrible period of withdrawal, especially when it's not our choice to be offline.
While we were away I was only able to access my messenger service - no email or anything else. Yep, email box is FULL. I sneaked onto the giant squid's laptop when he wasn't looking but it kept yelling "unauthorized Navy site!" Sheesh! Ya think he knew I was gonna sneak onto his laptop? The man is totally lacking in couth.
His lack of couth on this particular trip started at the airport. While we were waiting for our flight he muttered unintelligible noises about how heavy our duffel bag was... Well, of course it was heavy. I stuffed Butterfinger and Baby Ruth bars in it. Those are very hard to get in Pearl Harbor. I found out the grocery stores carry Twinkies but just in case my research data was out of date, I shipped a dozen boxes to friends so I'd have some when we arrived. Can't believe I had to bring my own Butterfingers. Tsk.
When I told the giant squid... he gave me "that look."
"But the bag will be so much lighter when we fly home," I smiled sweetly - something that is not easy to do when you realize that a descendant of Kubla Khan is flexing his hand as if his palm was itching...
Oy!
"It will be jammed packed with the stuff you buy," he announced and rubbed his palm on his thigh.
Double Oy!
"No, it won't," I assured him and dug into the bag for a Butterfinger bar to fortify myself from any further discussion.
"You're not shopping when we get to Oahu?" he asked with a look of profound shock on his handsome face.
"Of course, I'm shopping. But I'll have everything shipped home."
This may not have been my best answer.
The "look" turned into a frown. Both of his brows arched. He rubbed BOTH hands together.
I dug into the duffel and grabbed 3 more Butterfinger bars.
The ceremonies aboard the USS Arizona were both bittersweet and poignant. The Naval officers were in dress blues; the ladies in dresses, hats and gloves. It was a special occasion and the wall of memory plaques humbled me. I know our Veteran's Day was also a Day of Remembrance in other countries as well. Regardless of which country they serve, we owe the warriors who fought to preserve our freedoms a debt that cannot be repaid.
We stayed with friends who are billeted on Oahu. They have a house on the beach and Cowboy and I jogged in the early morning sun. Weather was lovely; chilly in the early hours but great for a morning run. We stayed on our time so when it was 6 a.m. there, our body clocks registered 9 a.m. A couple of times I stripped out of my jogging clothes...
"What the hell are you doing?" Guess who yelled that!
"It's warm. Got too many clothes on. I was wearing a bikini under the sweats.
"Gonna get your tush warmed, too!" Same Neanderthal yelled that warning.
"Yeah, yeah. You have to catch me first!"
I took off like a bat out of Hell.
HE took off after me like a surface-to-air missile.
Swats... then stuff... ensued.
We can NEVER go back to that particular stretch of beach again.
"Was that behavior unbecoming an officer and a gentleman?" I asked when we were completely dressed and walking back to our room.
"You're my Lorelei," the giant squid laughed. "I was unable to resist your siren's song, not your tush, either. A jury of my peers - Naval officers - will understand that and excuse my behavior."
"What about the swats? Will they forgive that too?" I rubbed my butt to remind him he was an uncouthful being.
"We use to flog miscreants in the Navy," he told me.
"I'm not in the Navy," I protested.
"Thank God for that!" he muttered and gave me another swat.
Just for that, I'm loading up that duffel bag with Hawaiian rocks!
~Sar~
P.S. Got home. Pups smooched me and slobbered on the giant squid. Cats came running, rubbed up against me, yawned, and went back to sleep. (The squid is invisible to them. LOL!)
While we were away I was only able to access my messenger service - no email or anything else. Yep, email box is FULL. I sneaked onto the giant squid's laptop when he wasn't looking but it kept yelling "unauthorized Navy site!" Sheesh! Ya think he knew I was gonna sneak onto his laptop? The man is totally lacking in couth.
His lack of couth on this particular trip started at the airport. While we were waiting for our flight he muttered unintelligible noises about how heavy our duffel bag was... Well, of course it was heavy. I stuffed Butterfinger and Baby Ruth bars in it. Those are very hard to get in Pearl Harbor. I found out the grocery stores carry Twinkies but just in case my research data was out of date, I shipped a dozen boxes to friends so I'd have some when we arrived. Can't believe I had to bring my own Butterfingers. Tsk.
When I told the giant squid... he gave me "that look."
"But the bag will be so much lighter when we fly home," I smiled sweetly - something that is not easy to do when you realize that a descendant of Kubla Khan is flexing his hand as if his palm was itching...
Oy!
"It will be jammed packed with the stuff you buy," he announced and rubbed his palm on his thigh.
Double Oy!
"No, it won't," I assured him and dug into the bag for a Butterfinger bar to fortify myself from any further discussion.
"You're not shopping when we get to Oahu?" he asked with a look of profound shock on his handsome face.
"Of course, I'm shopping. But I'll have everything shipped home."
This may not have been my best answer.
The "look" turned into a frown. Both of his brows arched. He rubbed BOTH hands together.
I dug into the duffel and grabbed 3 more Butterfinger bars.
The ceremonies aboard the USS Arizona were both bittersweet and poignant. The Naval officers were in dress blues; the ladies in dresses, hats and gloves. It was a special occasion and the wall of memory plaques humbled me. I know our Veteran's Day was also a Day of Remembrance in other countries as well. Regardless of which country they serve, we owe the warriors who fought to preserve our freedoms a debt that cannot be repaid.
We stayed with friends who are billeted on Oahu. They have a house on the beach and Cowboy and I jogged in the early morning sun. Weather was lovely; chilly in the early hours but great for a morning run. We stayed on our time so when it was 6 a.m. there, our body clocks registered 9 a.m. A couple of times I stripped out of my jogging clothes...
"What the hell are you doing?" Guess who yelled that!
"It's warm. Got too many clothes on. I was wearing a bikini under the sweats.
"Gonna get your tush warmed, too!" Same Neanderthal yelled that warning.
"Yeah, yeah. You have to catch me first!"
I took off like a bat out of Hell.
HE took off after me like a surface-to-air missile.
Swats... then stuff... ensued.
We can NEVER go back to that particular stretch of beach again.
"Was that behavior unbecoming an officer and a gentleman?" I asked when we were completely dressed and walking back to our room.
"You're my Lorelei," the giant squid laughed. "I was unable to resist your siren's song, not your tush, either. A jury of my peers - Naval officers - will understand that and excuse my behavior."
"What about the swats? Will they forgive that too?" I rubbed my butt to remind him he was an uncouthful being.
"We use to flog miscreants in the Navy," he told me.
"I'm not in the Navy," I protested.
"Thank God for that!" he muttered and gave me another swat.
Just for that, I'm loading up that duffel bag with Hawaiian rocks!
~Sar~
P.S. Got home. Pups smooched me and slobbered on the giant squid. Cats came running, rubbed up against me, yawned, and went back to sleep. (The squid is invisible to them. LOL!)
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Bustin' My Buttons!
Got a call from the local animal rescue society. Currently, we have empty kennels and they asked if we'd foster four large breed dogs. Two are oversized black Labs - 120+ lbs. Another is a giant Schnauzer and the fourth is a Briard. The Schnauzer is a hundred-pounder and the Briard around 85-90 lbs.
The UPSIDE! They want me to train the dogs in obedience, including advanced commands AND in general assistance. I'm over the moon about this! All four dogs are slated to go to four vets back from the Iraqi war and in need of assistance/companion dogs. I couldn't be happier than to provide our veteran warriors with animals that will make their lives easier and to be able to give four dogs rescued from possible euthanasia a second chance to live productive lives in good homes is a huge bonus.
Okay, off my soapbox. We'll be getting the dogs in about 2-3 weeks.
"You sure you want to do this at this time of year?" the giant Neanderthal playing devil's advocate asked.
I saw no reason to get into a long discussion about something I was determined to do so I sat on his lap and shut him up by stuffing heaping spoons full of peach cobbler in his mouth. (I froze some for when peaches went out of season.)
"You're extra busy these days cooking and baking for the upcoming holidays," he continued between bites.
Tsk. Obviously I didn't stuff his mouth fast enough.
SWAT!
Double tsk.
"And what about the downside to training these breeds? None of them are exactly docile."
Oh Ye Of Little Faith!
Black Labs are a whole different kind of retriever from Goldens. Goldens live to please you. Black Labs live to outwit you. They are extraordinarily bright, STUBBORN, and have a hugely wicked sense of humor. They steal things. They wag their tails while listening to you but in fact, they are really plotting what they're doing next. If you bring them into the house, they wait until you're asleep. Then they drink all the beer and watch porn all night.
I like a challenge and let's face it, I'm not crazy about beer or porn but when my mind is made up, I can be more stubborn than a black Lab.
"That's for sure," the giant squid says.
Oh sure. Now he agrees with me. Tsk.
The only Giant Schnauzers I've met are police dogs that patrol the perimeter of the navy base at night. Some are attack-trained and assist the military police if necessary. Schnauzers are also bright animals and easily trained as long as they know who the alpha is. I'm not concerned about training this one. It's like working with 100 lbs. of steel wool.
The Briard: Oh boy! Bright and crafty! You have to outwit this one and give it LOTS of praise and attention. It also responds well to treats. Well... that's what I do every day to keep Cowboy in line so this shouldn't be anything new.
SWAT!
"The truth hurts, huh?"
SWAT! SWAT!
Laughing... but softly.
We're off to Hawaii in a couple of days. The giant squid has been invited to attend the Veterans' Day ceremony aboard the USS Arizona. It's an honor to be invited and we're excited about attending. We have friends in Pearl Harbor and elsewhere on Oahu so we expect to be there about a week. When we get back, the holiday planning and baking et al will be in full swing.
We have a few social obligations already marked on the calendar. When you live with a giant squid, those things happen. Naturally, I thought this would be a wonderful opportunity to spruce up my wardrobe so I've been doing that, too. So far, the credit card company hasn't called to yell "fraud" or "cease fire" or whatever other nonsense they like to exclaim when I forge his signature...
"You forged my signature?!?"
"Of course not, dear. I wouldn't dream of it."
~Sar~
The UPSIDE! They want me to train the dogs in obedience, including advanced commands AND in general assistance. I'm over the moon about this! All four dogs are slated to go to four vets back from the Iraqi war and in need of assistance/companion dogs. I couldn't be happier than to provide our veteran warriors with animals that will make their lives easier and to be able to give four dogs rescued from possible euthanasia a second chance to live productive lives in good homes is a huge bonus.
Okay, off my soapbox. We'll be getting the dogs in about 2-3 weeks.
"You sure you want to do this at this time of year?" the giant Neanderthal playing devil's advocate asked.
I saw no reason to get into a long discussion about something I was determined to do so I sat on his lap and shut him up by stuffing heaping spoons full of peach cobbler in his mouth. (I froze some for when peaches went out of season.)
"You're extra busy these days cooking and baking for the upcoming holidays," he continued between bites.
Tsk. Obviously I didn't stuff his mouth fast enough.
SWAT!
Double tsk.
"And what about the downside to training these breeds? None of them are exactly docile."
Oh Ye Of Little Faith!
Black Labs are a whole different kind of retriever from Goldens. Goldens live to please you. Black Labs live to outwit you. They are extraordinarily bright, STUBBORN, and have a hugely wicked sense of humor. They steal things. They wag their tails while listening to you but in fact, they are really plotting what they're doing next. If you bring them into the house, they wait until you're asleep. Then they drink all the beer and watch porn all night.
I like a challenge and let's face it, I'm not crazy about beer or porn but when my mind is made up, I can be more stubborn than a black Lab.
"That's for sure," the giant squid says.
Oh sure. Now he agrees with me. Tsk.
The only Giant Schnauzers I've met are police dogs that patrol the perimeter of the navy base at night. Some are attack-trained and assist the military police if necessary. Schnauzers are also bright animals and easily trained as long as they know who the alpha is. I'm not concerned about training this one. It's like working with 100 lbs. of steel wool.
The Briard: Oh boy! Bright and crafty! You have to outwit this one and give it LOTS of praise and attention. It also responds well to treats. Well... that's what I do every day to keep Cowboy in line so this shouldn't be anything new.
SWAT!
"The truth hurts, huh?"
SWAT! SWAT!
Laughing... but softly.
We're off to Hawaii in a couple of days. The giant squid has been invited to attend the Veterans' Day ceremony aboard the USS Arizona. It's an honor to be invited and we're excited about attending. We have friends in Pearl Harbor and elsewhere on Oahu so we expect to be there about a week. When we get back, the holiday planning and baking et al will be in full swing.
We have a few social obligations already marked on the calendar. When you live with a giant squid, those things happen. Naturally, I thought this would be a wonderful opportunity to spruce up my wardrobe so I've been doing that, too. So far, the credit card company hasn't called to yell "fraud" or "cease fire" or whatever other nonsense they like to exclaim when I forge his signature...
"You forged my signature?!?"
"Of course not, dear. I wouldn't dream of it."
~Sar~
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
BGS
Back in the days BGS - Before the Giant Squid - Halloween was MINE! I bought a lot of candy, ate a lot of candy and reveled in my sugar high. My pantry was to-die-for. It was filled with GOOD stuff.
~ Sigh ~
Pausing here to reminisce...
My pantry was the size of a broom closet... Truthfully, it *was* a broom closet until I converted it to a pantry. I hung shelves and stocked each shelf with REAL food.
One shelf held blue Kraft boxes of macaroni and cheese - an absolutely beautiful sight.
Another held boxes of Cracker Jacks - ALL the prizes were MINE!
A third (and fourth) held boxes and boxes and boxes of TWINKIES! NIRVANA!
And...
The other three mini walls held shelves filled with CHOCOLATE bars.
There is nothing quite as comforting as shelves stacked with BUTTERFINGERS, THREE MUSKETEERS, SNICKERS, and MILKY WAY bars and... a few other delicacies.
The kitchen cabinets had food other people expect you to eat - no need to get into the details. This is Halloween, after all.
I fell off the wagon a few times and actually ate meat, chicken, fish and salads. I had three cats - Nina, Pinta, Santa Marie - and made oatmeal or eggs for their breakfasts so I had some, too.
Then the Giant Squid entered the picture and made noises about cat food for cats. The cats didn't know they were cats and I seriously considered never seeing the Giant Squid again. But he showed up with very large tins of tuna... won the cats over and let's face it. I wanted my cats to be happy so I married him.
Halloween happened a couple of months after we were married and I stocked up. Cowboy didn't understand why I didn't answer the door to the trick-or-treaters.
Ready for this?
He actually expected me to GIVE candy to the hobgoblins!
Give it away? Not in this lifetime, mister!
SWAT!
I tried to explain that Halloween is a time to stock up on candy and enjoy it. It is not a time to share.
SWAT!
The giant squid just shook his head at my explanation. This only confirmed my opinion that he was definitely spawned from Neanderthal stock.
SWAT!
He grabbed my bowl of candy and when the doorbell rang, held me back with one hand and gave out candy with the other!
It almost killed me.
I gave serious consideration to divorce.
However... he made up for it at Christmas.
Since that first *shared* Halloween, I have learned to purchase candy/gum/stuff I'm not crazy about and that's what I give out on Halloween.
When he was at sea, I reverted back to the good ol days... BGS.
SWAT!
I have to remember to write this when he's not looking over my shoulder...
SWAT!
All the little kids (and a few too old to be out trick-or-treating... 30-ish) love the giant squid. The little princesses always show off their pretty princess dresses or cowgirl outfits, etc. The boys posture in their baseball uniforms or Dracula fangs and capes. Neanderthal man morphs into Push-Over Pete and hands out CHOCOLATE bars!
~ Sigh ~ very very sad
I generally stand behind him in the doorway when he is committing this heinous act. That way, I can lean on him if I feel faint.
Last year, when the 30-ish lady trick-or-treaters ooooed and ahhhhed over the chocolate bars he handed out, I put my BARE arms around his waist and tucked a few fingertips beneath his belt.
He emitted a low growl.
I wanted to grab his yummy stick but there were a few too many little princesses on the doorstep.
So I goosed him instead.
The 30-ish crowd gasped.
Tsk. He's mine, after all.
When the generous chocolate donations were finally finished for the night and the door was closed, the giant squid yelled spanking threats as he chased me up the stairs and showed me his birthday suit costume.
Ohhhhhhh my. V-e-r-y nice.
When Halloween is over this year I plan to be equally creative and go as a naked nymph. I bet he gives me more than chocolate bars.
~Sar~
~ Sigh ~
Pausing here to reminisce...
My pantry was the size of a broom closet... Truthfully, it *was* a broom closet until I converted it to a pantry. I hung shelves and stocked each shelf with REAL food.
One shelf held blue Kraft boxes of macaroni and cheese - an absolutely beautiful sight.
Another held boxes of Cracker Jacks - ALL the prizes were MINE!
A third (and fourth) held boxes and boxes and boxes of TWINKIES! NIRVANA!
And...
The other three mini walls held shelves filled with CHOCOLATE bars.
There is nothing quite as comforting as shelves stacked with BUTTERFINGERS, THREE MUSKETEERS, SNICKERS, and MILKY WAY bars and... a few other delicacies.
The kitchen cabinets had food other people expect you to eat - no need to get into the details. This is Halloween, after all.
I fell off the wagon a few times and actually ate meat, chicken, fish and salads. I had three cats - Nina, Pinta, Santa Marie - and made oatmeal or eggs for their breakfasts so I had some, too.
Then the Giant Squid entered the picture and made noises about cat food for cats. The cats didn't know they were cats and I seriously considered never seeing the Giant Squid again. But he showed up with very large tins of tuna... won the cats over and let's face it. I wanted my cats to be happy so I married him.
Halloween happened a couple of months after we were married and I stocked up. Cowboy didn't understand why I didn't answer the door to the trick-or-treaters.
Ready for this?
He actually expected me to GIVE candy to the hobgoblins!
Give it away? Not in this lifetime, mister!
SWAT!
I tried to explain that Halloween is a time to stock up on candy and enjoy it. It is not a time to share.
SWAT!
The giant squid just shook his head at my explanation. This only confirmed my opinion that he was definitely spawned from Neanderthal stock.
SWAT!
He grabbed my bowl of candy and when the doorbell rang, held me back with one hand and gave out candy with the other!
It almost killed me.
I gave serious consideration to divorce.
However... he made up for it at Christmas.
Since that first *shared* Halloween, I have learned to purchase candy/gum/stuff I'm not crazy about and that's what I give out on Halloween.
When he was at sea, I reverted back to the good ol days... BGS.
SWAT!
I have to remember to write this when he's not looking over my shoulder...
SWAT!
All the little kids (and a few too old to be out trick-or-treating... 30-ish) love the giant squid. The little princesses always show off their pretty princess dresses or cowgirl outfits, etc. The boys posture in their baseball uniforms or Dracula fangs and capes. Neanderthal man morphs into Push-Over Pete and hands out CHOCOLATE bars!
~ Sigh ~ very very sad
I generally stand behind him in the doorway when he is committing this heinous act. That way, I can lean on him if I feel faint.
Last year, when the 30-ish lady trick-or-treaters ooooed and ahhhhed over the chocolate bars he handed out, I put my BARE arms around his waist and tucked a few fingertips beneath his belt.
He emitted a low growl.
I wanted to grab his yummy stick but there were a few too many little princesses on the doorstep.
So I goosed him instead.
The 30-ish crowd gasped.
Tsk. He's mine, after all.
When the generous chocolate donations were finally finished for the night and the door was closed, the giant squid yelled spanking threats as he chased me up the stairs and showed me his birthday suit costume.
Ohhhhhhh my. V-e-r-y nice.
When Halloween is over this year I plan to be equally creative and go as a naked nymph. I bet he gives me more than chocolate bars.
~Sar~
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Me & Rodney Dangerfield
Every year we have a Halloween party for adults. People in our neighborhood are invited as well as friends who live in other neighborhoods... no children at this affair. I put a doggie gate at the foot of the stairs and another at the top of the stairs so no one wanders through our bedrooms. The pups are behind the upstairs gate, which is a deterrent in itself.
SweetPea wouldn't mind mingling - the Rott likes to snoop in women's purses and steal tissues, keys, pocket calculators, etc. (We have a lost & found basket of things the pup has appropriated.)
"Sar, have you seen my keys?" MsHairUpHerAss asks whenever she leaves her purse in an accessible place... on the floor by the couch.
"Look in SweetPea's basket."
"Ohhhhh, there they are."
BullyBoy is generally distraught we're eating and drinking without him. If he hears someone open a beer can, he howls. I have tried to tell him Bull Mastiffs don't howl. Hounds howl, but he ignores me and howls/yodels anyway. Beer is sacred to him and Hell hath no fury like a 160 lb puppy upset that someone has chug-a-lugged one of his beers. Revenge is ugly. He'll slime you if he catches you.
"Sar, your dog drooled on my shoes!"
"Give him your beer and he'll leave you alone."
"How many has he had tonight?"
"Is he burping yet?"
I live in a nuthouse.
Everyone was told to come in costume.
"Are you going to be a pirate again, this year?" I asked the giant squid.
"Aye, me pretty," he arches a suggestive brow.
Tsk. I think he's too o-l-d to be swash buckling.
"What are you going to be? A fairy princess?"
A fairy princess? Puleeeeeeze!
"I'm going as a Ninja!"
"No, you're not," the Neanderthal said matter-of-factly like that was the end of the conversation.
"Of course, I am! David bought me one of those fancy schmancy swords and I've been practicing."
"I'm gonna kill that marine," the tall guy I live with grumbled. "And what in blazes were you going to slice with that sword?"
Anyone who has the nerve to eat my Butterfingers.
SWAT!
Tsk. Apparently, would-be pirates are also telepathic.
"We could have a sword fight," I tell him. "Pirates have swords or sabers or some such nonsense. I bet I'm better at it than you are."
SWAT!
Sheesh!
So-o-o we had our Halloween party. I went as a Ninja and that's only because I waited till Cowboy was downstairs greeting guests before I got dressed. That sword was tucked into a thingamajig at my waist. Whoa Nellie! That thing was heavy. Thought my pants would fall down. Cowboy thought they would too so he stayed near me in case he had to pull them back up.
No respect!
The party was a huge success. Periodically, BullyBoy let out a howl... Every time I saw someone reach for my Butterfingers, I arched a brow and put a hand on the sword... And... every time I did that, the pirate behind me growled a dire threat in my ears... something about ninja pants and warm tushes and "when I get my hands on you."
Tsk.
Everybody, including me, ate a lot of chocolate... candy, cupcakes, cake, and candy corn, tootsie rolls, taffy, chocolate covered this and that and drank a little wine. I was feeling a little queasy by the time the party was over but I'm sure it had nothing to do with what I ate. More than likely, it was watching all that CHOCOLATE being consumed by OTHER PEOPLE! It took huge restraint on my part not to howl like BullyBoy every time someone popped a chocolate treat in their mouths.
I HATE TO SHARE!
SWAT!
When it was over, BullyBoy immediately stuck his nose in the garbage to count the empty beer cans. He howled.
SweetPea chewed the candy corn that was left in a bowl on the coffee table and slimed the cats with it. (They'll be washing all night.)
I couldn't bear to look at the MOUNTAIN of candy wrappers next to the beer cans.
I bumped the pirate with the edge of my sword as we carried empty platters back into the kitchen and he remembered I was a ninja instead of a fairy princess and his couth-less-ness erupted faster than a surface-to-air missile.
Suddenly I was touching the ceiling when he yanked me up over his shoulder.
The man is a pagan. (Of course I mean that in a nice way.)
The ninja pants came down way too easily - sword dispatched to the floor - the pirate's hand descended at about the speed of Mach 5 and I yelled obscenities.
"Lily livered squid!"
SWAT!
"Shark bait!"
SWAT!
"Sissy sailor!"
SWAT!
"No more peach cobbler till you apologize!"
"No peach cobbler?" His hand paused. "I apologize."
SWAT!
Tsk. No respect.
~Sar~
P.S. After the party, we had a different kind of party. The pirate was very happy with his ninja girl.
SweetPea wouldn't mind mingling - the Rott likes to snoop in women's purses and steal tissues, keys, pocket calculators, etc. (We have a lost & found basket of things the pup has appropriated.)
"Sar, have you seen my keys?" MsHairUpHerAss asks whenever she leaves her purse in an accessible place... on the floor by the couch.
"Look in SweetPea's basket."
"Ohhhhh, there they are."
BullyBoy is generally distraught we're eating and drinking without him. If he hears someone open a beer can, he howls. I have tried to tell him Bull Mastiffs don't howl. Hounds howl, but he ignores me and howls/yodels anyway. Beer is sacred to him and Hell hath no fury like a 160 lb puppy upset that someone has chug-a-lugged one of his beers. Revenge is ugly. He'll slime you if he catches you.
"Sar, your dog drooled on my shoes!"
"Give him your beer and he'll leave you alone."
"How many has he had tonight?"
"Is he burping yet?"
I live in a nuthouse.
Everyone was told to come in costume.
"Are you going to be a pirate again, this year?" I asked the giant squid.
"Aye, me pretty," he arches a suggestive brow.
Tsk. I think he's too o-l-d to be swash buckling.
"What are you going to be? A fairy princess?"
A fairy princess? Puleeeeeeze!
"I'm going as a Ninja!"
"No, you're not," the Neanderthal said matter-of-factly like that was the end of the conversation.
"Of course, I am! David bought me one of those fancy schmancy swords and I've been practicing."
"I'm gonna kill that marine," the tall guy I live with grumbled. "And what in blazes were you going to slice with that sword?"
Anyone who has the nerve to eat my Butterfingers.
SWAT!
Tsk. Apparently, would-be pirates are also telepathic.
"We could have a sword fight," I tell him. "Pirates have swords or sabers or some such nonsense. I bet I'm better at it than you are."
SWAT!
Sheesh!
So-o-o we had our Halloween party. I went as a Ninja and that's only because I waited till Cowboy was downstairs greeting guests before I got dressed. That sword was tucked into a thingamajig at my waist. Whoa Nellie! That thing was heavy. Thought my pants would fall down. Cowboy thought they would too so he stayed near me in case he had to pull them back up.
No respect!
The party was a huge success. Periodically, BullyBoy let out a howl... Every time I saw someone reach for my Butterfingers, I arched a brow and put a hand on the sword... And... every time I did that, the pirate behind me growled a dire threat in my ears... something about ninja pants and warm tushes and "when I get my hands on you."
Tsk.
Everybody, including me, ate a lot of chocolate... candy, cupcakes, cake, and candy corn, tootsie rolls, taffy, chocolate covered this and that and drank a little wine. I was feeling a little queasy by the time the party was over but I'm sure it had nothing to do with what I ate. More than likely, it was watching all that CHOCOLATE being consumed by OTHER PEOPLE! It took huge restraint on my part not to howl like BullyBoy every time someone popped a chocolate treat in their mouths.
I HATE TO SHARE!
SWAT!
When it was over, BullyBoy immediately stuck his nose in the garbage to count the empty beer cans. He howled.
SweetPea chewed the candy corn that was left in a bowl on the coffee table and slimed the cats with it. (They'll be washing all night.)
I couldn't bear to look at the MOUNTAIN of candy wrappers next to the beer cans.
I bumped the pirate with the edge of my sword as we carried empty platters back into the kitchen and he remembered I was a ninja instead of a fairy princess and his couth-less-ness erupted faster than a surface-to-air missile.
Suddenly I was touching the ceiling when he yanked me up over his shoulder.
The man is a pagan. (Of course I mean that in a nice way.)
The ninja pants came down way too easily - sword dispatched to the floor - the pirate's hand descended at about the speed of Mach 5 and I yelled obscenities.
"Lily livered squid!"
SWAT!
"Shark bait!"
SWAT!
"Sissy sailor!"
SWAT!
"No more peach cobbler till you apologize!"
"No peach cobbler?" His hand paused. "I apologize."
SWAT!
Tsk. No respect.
~Sar~
P.S. After the party, we had a different kind of party. The pirate was very happy with his ninja girl.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Eating Green!
Got a bruise on my eye a few days ago. Not sure how it happened but it might have been when I was trying to teach the pups how to stand on their hind legs, one hand on my shoulder for balance and the other cupping my cheek. It's part of a performance we're giving at a children's hospital - the pup looking like he's leaning into me to tell me a secret. I have to stand against a wall when either of them lean on me for balance. SweetPea is 120 lbs and BullyBoy tops 160. The Rott is a quick learner and he can do the trick easily but the mastiff is a s-l-o-w learner. He'll master it but it's going to take a while.
Soooooooo, the squid went into work late and said he wouldn't be home before midnight and to eat something green with dinner...
I took a day off from work, played in the yard with the pups, went for a run IN THE RAIN and in general, had a wonderful day of leisure. We have a beautiful Katsura tree that has heart shaped leaves. The leaves turn gold and peach before they fall and the color show is just spectacular. It's starting to turn peachy right now and in a burst of joy, I hugged the trunk - as much as I could reach. Okay, go ahead. Call me one of those tree huggers.
Tsk.
The pups were so enamored that I was hugging a tree, they all lifted a leg and peed right on it.
Double tsk. I don't think I'll hug that one for a while.
For supper, I got several orders of fried wonton and plum sauce. The pups and I adore fried wonton and hate to share so when the squid is away, we indulge ourselves. We also had a big platter of ribs and lots of fried rice and fried noodles and shrimp with lobster sauce - so the cats could eat too - and then I remembered the squid said I should have something green with supper. We had lime sherbet for dessert.
The next morning I wake up with this presence behind me in bed... His arm is draped across my body... warm breath on my neck... I immediately try to remember if I put all the evidence of supper in the garbage...
I turn toward him. Kisses follow and then he grabs my face with both hands and frowns.
Oye!
"What's wrong with your eye?"
There's something wrong with my eye? I extract myself from the behemoth's paws and go look in the mirror.
Oh boy! My left eye is red like a knife sliced through it. It doesn't hurt but it looks like I got socked. Before I get back into the bedroom, the giant squid has already made an appointment for me with an ophthalmologist for the next morning.
While he drives I try to figure out how to get a pair of night vision goggles so I can look as goofy as the eye doc looks when he looks in my eyes. I ask the squid if I can borrow his. He says no. This man has no sense of humor at all.
We get to the base and the doc's assistant gets all nervous when she spies Cowboy in his dress blues with all the gold stripes on the cuffs. I take this opportunity to pop a few mini tootsie rolls in my mouth.
The eye doc looks like a gargoyle with his eye paraphernalia on his head but he's short, thin and friendly. I figure I can take him out if necessary.
He puts this contraption in front of my face and looks in my eyes. He wants to check if I can see. I have memorized all the charts so this is not a problem. But... he uses a computer to throw images of eye charts onto the wall and they're done at random. That is dirty pool. I wonder if he does that to everybody or if someone warned him about me. Hmmm.
Then he looks at the part of my eye that's red. He says it's a hemorrhage and that it's very common and not to worry because it didn't do any damage and will heal in a week or so. Whewwwwww. I dig into my bag and pop more tootsie rolls in my mouth. The smell of chocolate makes the doc nuts and he STEALS a couple of my tootsie rolls!
I complain.
The giant squid gives me one of those "looks."
The doc EATS MY chocolate!
"Next time I'm bringing the Rott with me," I tell the doc with zoom lenses growing out of his face.
"I love dogs," he says.
"My Rott is a shape shifter."
"That's okay," he says. "I'm really a vampire in disguise."
I KNEW IT! They're all related!
I have been so good... I tell Cowboy I deserve an award for being so good. He rolls his eyes.
Tsk. The man has no sensitivity at all. I remind him I was subjected to a dark room with a closet vampire who stole my chocolate. Surely, there should be some wonderful compensation for my troubles.
SWAT!
That's not what I had in mind.
But he did take me to a fast food establishment where I ate onion rings and drank strawberry milkshakes until I was stuffed.
My eye is much better and Cowboy is working late again. Tonight, I think the pups and I will have a mac and cheese orgy and GREEN Key Lime pie for dessert.
~Sar~
P.S. Just a friendly reminder... This is not the time to visit salad bars. Pass it on.
Soooooooo, the squid went into work late and said he wouldn't be home before midnight and to eat something green with dinner...
I took a day off from work, played in the yard with the pups, went for a run IN THE RAIN and in general, had a wonderful day of leisure. We have a beautiful Katsura tree that has heart shaped leaves. The leaves turn gold and peach before they fall and the color show is just spectacular. It's starting to turn peachy right now and in a burst of joy, I hugged the trunk - as much as I could reach. Okay, go ahead. Call me one of those tree huggers.
Tsk.
The pups were so enamored that I was hugging a tree, they all lifted a leg and peed right on it.
Double tsk. I don't think I'll hug that one for a while.
For supper, I got several orders of fried wonton and plum sauce. The pups and I adore fried wonton and hate to share so when the squid is away, we indulge ourselves. We also had a big platter of ribs and lots of fried rice and fried noodles and shrimp with lobster sauce - so the cats could eat too - and then I remembered the squid said I should have something green with supper. We had lime sherbet for dessert.
The next morning I wake up with this presence behind me in bed... His arm is draped across my body... warm breath on my neck... I immediately try to remember if I put all the evidence of supper in the garbage...
I turn toward him. Kisses follow and then he grabs my face with both hands and frowns.
Oye!
"What's wrong with your eye?"
There's something wrong with my eye? I extract myself from the behemoth's paws and go look in the mirror.
Oh boy! My left eye is red like a knife sliced through it. It doesn't hurt but it looks like I got socked. Before I get back into the bedroom, the giant squid has already made an appointment for me with an ophthalmologist for the next morning.
While he drives I try to figure out how to get a pair of night vision goggles so I can look as goofy as the eye doc looks when he looks in my eyes. I ask the squid if I can borrow his. He says no. This man has no sense of humor at all.
We get to the base and the doc's assistant gets all nervous when she spies Cowboy in his dress blues with all the gold stripes on the cuffs. I take this opportunity to pop a few mini tootsie rolls in my mouth.
The eye doc looks like a gargoyle with his eye paraphernalia on his head but he's short, thin and friendly. I figure I can take him out if necessary.
He puts this contraption in front of my face and looks in my eyes. He wants to check if I can see. I have memorized all the charts so this is not a problem. But... he uses a computer to throw images of eye charts onto the wall and they're done at random. That is dirty pool. I wonder if he does that to everybody or if someone warned him about me. Hmmm.
Then he looks at the part of my eye that's red. He says it's a hemorrhage and that it's very common and not to worry because it didn't do any damage and will heal in a week or so. Whewwwwww. I dig into my bag and pop more tootsie rolls in my mouth. The smell of chocolate makes the doc nuts and he STEALS a couple of my tootsie rolls!
I complain.
The giant squid gives me one of those "looks."
The doc EATS MY chocolate!
"Next time I'm bringing the Rott with me," I tell the doc with zoom lenses growing out of his face.
"I love dogs," he says.
"My Rott is a shape shifter."
"That's okay," he says. "I'm really a vampire in disguise."
I KNEW IT! They're all related!
I have been so good... I tell Cowboy I deserve an award for being so good. He rolls his eyes.
Tsk. The man has no sensitivity at all. I remind him I was subjected to a dark room with a closet vampire who stole my chocolate. Surely, there should be some wonderful compensation for my troubles.
SWAT!
That's not what I had in mind.
But he did take me to a fast food establishment where I ate onion rings and drank strawberry milkshakes until I was stuffed.
My eye is much better and Cowboy is working late again. Tonight, I think the pups and I will have a mac and cheese orgy and GREEN Key Lime pie for dessert.
~Sar~
P.S. Just a friendly reminder... This is not the time to visit salad bars. Pass it on.
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Veggies can KILL you!
Is that the best news ever? First, it was spinach; now it's carrot juice. Carrot juice comes from carrots. Carrots grow in the ground. So do turnips...
Life can be such a treat sometimes.
"There are other veggies you can eat, imp."
Tsk. Did anyone else hear the voice of delusion?
SWAT!
Moving right along...
Taught a class at the university this week - 3 days, 12 students hands-on and about 20 in the audience watching. The 20 were on a waiting list allowed to watch and replace any of the hands-on students that had to leave for some reason or another. I noticed that some stopped watching what I was doing and watched my pups instead. Occasionally one of the pups did what dogs do in a most disgusting manner and in front of an audience no less! Totally lacking in couth. In that, they take after the giant squid.
Uh... not that the giant squid does those kinds of things in public... not in private either... nevertheless...
BAMBINA!
SWAT!
Tsk! Somehow I misstated that. Oh well...
The class was scheduled for 9 a.m. - 5 p.m. with a few breaks so I could take the dogs out and of course, all of us had to eat. When the clock struck 6 p.m. on day 1, I left them still asking questions and went home. I was so tired I went straight to bed. Cowboy woke me and made me eat something. The next day he dropped me off and said he'd pick me up at 5 p.m. so I could leave on time. He did and I napped the whole way home so I could be awake to eat dinner.
You're not going to believe this!
Ready?
The NEANDERTHAL ordered a VEGETARIAN pizza for our dinner! I literally collapsed. The pups came rushing over, glared and growled at the giant squid for his uncouthful behavior. SweetPea offered me his favorite "blankie." (The ferocious Rottweiler sleeps with a soft cloth doll that vaguely resembles Margaret Thatcher.) BullyBoy gave the squid a swat with his paw.
And who ever heard of a vegetarian pizza? That's got to be against the law!
"It's good for you, imp and I like it."
"Yeah, yeah, and you're also fond of jock itch but I'm not likely to share that pleasure either."
SWAT!
Tsk!
So... on the pretense that I needed to take a shower before I could do anything else, the pups and I made our way upstairs. I turned on the shower and while it steamed up the bathroom, the three of us stuffed ourselves on real food - a box of Miss Debbie Cakes, 2 Twinkies I found in the linen closet and a bag of Cheetos. I was just wiping the pups' muzzles when a HUGE dark shadow crossed my line of vision.
What followed was also against the law.
The man is a heathen.
His cell phone interrupted his swinging arm and the accompanying tirade about my eating habits. I used the time to call the pizza parlor and ordered a real pizza - mushrooms and pepperoni and extra cheese - 3 large ones - and charged it to his credit card. Then I sneaked a five-dollar bill out of his wallet that was sitting on top of the dresser so I could give the delivery guy a tip. The pups and I were halfway through the pizzas before he got off the phone.
"What the hell are you doing?"
What a dumb question. Anyone can see I'm eating.
"How did you pay for those, imp?"
"With your credit card," I mumbled with my mouth full.
"MY credit card?"
"Well jeez, did you expect me to use somebody else's?"
Honestly, ingesting vegetarian stuff warps your brain.
"Enjoy it, bambina. You're not gonna like what happens next."
We pause here to think of a game plan...
I continued to eat... v-e-r-y slowly.
"You can't spank me twice in the same day," I reminded the caveman.
"Who says?"
Amazing! Caveman can be so articulate.
"I say," I said as I stuffed more pizza in my mouth.
"Now who's delusional?"
Tsk.
~Sar~
Life can be such a treat sometimes.
"There are other veggies you can eat, imp."
Tsk. Did anyone else hear the voice of delusion?
SWAT!
Moving right along...
Taught a class at the university this week - 3 days, 12 students hands-on and about 20 in the audience watching. The 20 were on a waiting list allowed to watch and replace any of the hands-on students that had to leave for some reason or another. I noticed that some stopped watching what I was doing and watched my pups instead. Occasionally one of the pups did what dogs do in a most disgusting manner and in front of an audience no less! Totally lacking in couth. In that, they take after the giant squid.
Uh... not that the giant squid does those kinds of things in public... not in private either... nevertheless...
BAMBINA!
SWAT!
Tsk! Somehow I misstated that. Oh well...
The class was scheduled for 9 a.m. - 5 p.m. with a few breaks so I could take the dogs out and of course, all of us had to eat. When the clock struck 6 p.m. on day 1, I left them still asking questions and went home. I was so tired I went straight to bed. Cowboy woke me and made me eat something. The next day he dropped me off and said he'd pick me up at 5 p.m. so I could leave on time. He did and I napped the whole way home so I could be awake to eat dinner.
You're not going to believe this!
Ready?
The NEANDERTHAL ordered a VEGETARIAN pizza for our dinner! I literally collapsed. The pups came rushing over, glared and growled at the giant squid for his uncouthful behavior. SweetPea offered me his favorite "blankie." (The ferocious Rottweiler sleeps with a soft cloth doll that vaguely resembles Margaret Thatcher.) BullyBoy gave the squid a swat with his paw.
And who ever heard of a vegetarian pizza? That's got to be against the law!
"It's good for you, imp and I like it."
"Yeah, yeah, and you're also fond of jock itch but I'm not likely to share that pleasure either."
SWAT!
Tsk!
So... on the pretense that I needed to take a shower before I could do anything else, the pups and I made our way upstairs. I turned on the shower and while it steamed up the bathroom, the three of us stuffed ourselves on real food - a box of Miss Debbie Cakes, 2 Twinkies I found in the linen closet and a bag of Cheetos. I was just wiping the pups' muzzles when a HUGE dark shadow crossed my line of vision.
What followed was also against the law.
The man is a heathen.
His cell phone interrupted his swinging arm and the accompanying tirade about my eating habits. I used the time to call the pizza parlor and ordered a real pizza - mushrooms and pepperoni and extra cheese - 3 large ones - and charged it to his credit card. Then I sneaked a five-dollar bill out of his wallet that was sitting on top of the dresser so I could give the delivery guy a tip. The pups and I were halfway through the pizzas before he got off the phone.
"What the hell are you doing?"
What a dumb question. Anyone can see I'm eating.
"How did you pay for those, imp?"
"With your credit card," I mumbled with my mouth full.
"MY credit card?"
"Well jeez, did you expect me to use somebody else's?"
Honestly, ingesting vegetarian stuff warps your brain.
"Enjoy it, bambina. You're not gonna like what happens next."
We pause here to think of a game plan...
I continued to eat... v-e-r-y slowly.
"You can't spank me twice in the same day," I reminded the caveman.
"Who says?"
Amazing! Caveman can be so articulate.
"I say," I said as I stuffed more pizza in my mouth.
"Now who's delusional?"
Tsk.
~Sar~
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Spiders
Cowboy here. The imp is at the commissary buying out the place. I assigned 2 clueless young off-duty sailors to help her - God help them!
My wife is fearless of most things - especially animals. We live in a rural community. Our house is in the foothills of the Cascade mountain range. We have bear and coyote sightings now and then. We have seen both at one time or another when we're out driving. Sar has a saltlick for deer and that can attract a hungry bigger critter. I am thankful she keeps a respectful distance.
Insects: You'd think a city girl would be squirrly around bugs. Nope. When she was a kid she used to play "war correspondent" by throwing red ants in with black ones-- and still would if we had ants. Not too many insects out here in the Pacific Northwest. We have garden beetles. She ignores them. We have slugs. She has devised ingenious ways to kill them and does so with a bit too much enthusiasm if you ask me. She gets excited when she sees a snake. Here we have harmless garden snakes and not too many of them. They're generally scared of the dogs and leave as fast as they came. Sar has accidentally walked into spider's webs and just wiped the webbing off her face without so much as a blink.
But-- if one gets in the house she goes beserk! The dogs are inclined to sniff it or place a paw on it. The cats will play with it until it dies. My wife goes commando. She sprays it with a cleaning spray which slows it down. Then she swats it with a shoe or a towel or a broom - the whole time she is shrieking as if being attacked. The dogs spring into action and growl at the spider - the cats either add their paws to the fray or watch the show. I do not know this woman.
The first time she found a spider in the house and screamed bloody murder and I realized it was just a spider - a small one at that - I warmed her tush for scaring the hell out of me. The way she screamed I thought we were under attack. I have told her to tell me if she sees one in the house and I will dispose of it but no. The warrior woman I married has to do battle and she does it with all the finesse of Genghis Khan - screaming while she slays.
The same woman flushes dead spider, scrubs her hands as if they were stained with blood and settles down to eat a box of Twinkies and drink a root beer float in celebration. This woman I know.
On another note: An article in the local paper informs the reading public that e coli has infected 187 people across Alaska, Washington, Oregon, Idaho and Montana. Sar highlighted the article in neon and placed it in the center of my desk. That's not an epidemic I tell her. She, on the other hand, is astounded that 187 people include spinach in their diet. I give her a swat.
She says she would not be surprised if e coli spreads to other green vegetables. I tell her she's eating green vegetables or getting her tush toasted.
She is debating which is the lesser evil but I note that she has 1 foot out the door.
Life in our house remains normal.
Cowboy
My wife is fearless of most things - especially animals. We live in a rural community. Our house is in the foothills of the Cascade mountain range. We have bear and coyote sightings now and then. We have seen both at one time or another when we're out driving. Sar has a saltlick for deer and that can attract a hungry bigger critter. I am thankful she keeps a respectful distance.
Insects: You'd think a city girl would be squirrly around bugs. Nope. When she was a kid she used to play "war correspondent" by throwing red ants in with black ones-- and still would if we had ants. Not too many insects out here in the Pacific Northwest. We have garden beetles. She ignores them. We have slugs. She has devised ingenious ways to kill them and does so with a bit too much enthusiasm if you ask me. She gets excited when she sees a snake. Here we have harmless garden snakes and not too many of them. They're generally scared of the dogs and leave as fast as they came. Sar has accidentally walked into spider's webs and just wiped the webbing off her face without so much as a blink.
But-- if one gets in the house she goes beserk! The dogs are inclined to sniff it or place a paw on it. The cats will play with it until it dies. My wife goes commando. She sprays it with a cleaning spray which slows it down. Then she swats it with a shoe or a towel or a broom - the whole time she is shrieking as if being attacked. The dogs spring into action and growl at the spider - the cats either add their paws to the fray or watch the show. I do not know this woman.
The first time she found a spider in the house and screamed bloody murder and I realized it was just a spider - a small one at that - I warmed her tush for scaring the hell out of me. The way she screamed I thought we were under attack. I have told her to tell me if she sees one in the house and I will dispose of it but no. The warrior woman I married has to do battle and she does it with all the finesse of Genghis Khan - screaming while she slays.
The same woman flushes dead spider, scrubs her hands as if they were stained with blood and settles down to eat a box of Twinkies and drink a root beer float in celebration. This woman I know.
On another note: An article in the local paper informs the reading public that e coli has infected 187 people across Alaska, Washington, Oregon, Idaho and Montana. Sar highlighted the article in neon and placed it in the center of my desk. That's not an epidemic I tell her. She, on the other hand, is astounded that 187 people include spinach in their diet. I give her a swat.
She says she would not be surprised if e coli spreads to other green vegetables. I tell her she's eating green vegetables or getting her tush toasted.
She is debating which is the lesser evil but I note that she has 1 foot out the door.
Life in our house remains normal.
Cowboy
Thursday, September 21, 2006
EXCUSE ME?
Sorry - didn't mean to shout but I am grinding my teeth to stubs so as not to inflict permanent damage on two potential Navy wives...
Once upon a time - back when people knew how to behave in other people's homes... I didn't mind if Cowboy asked if he could invite a fellow officer or a subordinate home for dinner. Senior officers befriended the giant squid when he was still a squidlet so Cowboy was giving the same opportunity to those officers that had demonstrated potential for advancement.
So... a few days ago, I agree to make dinner for two of his subordinates and their girlfriends.
Two young men - late 20s - arrive with two respectably dressed ladies on their arms. Dinner was a success ... except for:
Bimbo #1 flirted with Cowboy all through dinner. My immediate reaction was to stab her with the tines of my fork but Cowboy covered my hand. That man anticipates my reactions too well.
Bimbo #2 chewed gum all through dinner - putting her gum on her plate while she ate... EGADS! I think I rolled my eyes but Cowboy's glare had me blinking.
Bimbo #2 used the guest bathroom and after they left, I found the towels ON THE FLOOR! I screamed SHIITAKE MUSHROOMS! at the top of my lungs but that only made the dogs come running.
Bimbo #1 wanted to know if Cowboy was any good in bed and had we ever had sex in his office at the base and could she and her boyfriend do that some time when he wasn't in his office?
I was hard pressed not to let the dogs loose on the two of them.
Cowboy was appalled by it all. His subordinates were embarrassed and will have to do other things to get his recommendation for advancement. Marrying those two women will be on the debit side of the ledger. (Neither thanked me for dinner and neither will be invited back.)
Moving right along...
Spinach is STILL LETHAL! I'm overjoyed!
"You'll have to eat something else that's green, bambina. Got to get those nutrients into you to counterbalance the junk you eat."
Since when did he get a degree in nutrition?
"I'm going to pick up some Brussels sprouts on my way home," the vegan in a previous life announced.
"I'm going to commit Hari Kari," I replied. (I just saw "Kill Bill - Vol. 1 & 2 and I think there's a Hattori Hanzo sword somewhere in the house.)
"You better not fill up on burgers and onion rings and milkshakes before I get home. I want you to eat something nutritious for a change."
"I wouldn't dream of it," I said. (The pups and I have a date with friends at "Ye Ol Texas Smoke House" where we will stuff ourselves on ribs and shredded beef and root beer floats.)
"I mean it, Sar. No burgers and onion rings."
"Cross my heart and hope to die," I smiled.
He looked suspicious.
I continued to smile.
He narrowed his eyes.
I think my face will freeze if I don't stop smiling.
SWAT!
"Jeez! What was that for?"
"A gut feeling, bambina."
Tsk! The man has premonitions. I wonder if there's a pill for that?
And...
It's RAINING! Glorious rain! It has rained for a few days with just a few sun breaks. The pups and I have been out in it every chance we get which is only when the giant squid is away from the house.
"I don't want you in the rain, bambina."
Tsk. Too bad we can't always have what we want in life.
SWAT!
"Now what?"
"That's for just in case, imp."
I need to find that anti-premonition pill.
~Sar~
Once upon a time - back when people knew how to behave in other people's homes... I didn't mind if Cowboy asked if he could invite a fellow officer or a subordinate home for dinner. Senior officers befriended the giant squid when he was still a squidlet so Cowboy was giving the same opportunity to those officers that had demonstrated potential for advancement.
So... a few days ago, I agree to make dinner for two of his subordinates and their girlfriends.
Two young men - late 20s - arrive with two respectably dressed ladies on their arms. Dinner was a success ... except for:
Bimbo #1 flirted with Cowboy all through dinner. My immediate reaction was to stab her with the tines of my fork but Cowboy covered my hand. That man anticipates my reactions too well.
Bimbo #2 chewed gum all through dinner - putting her gum on her plate while she ate... EGADS! I think I rolled my eyes but Cowboy's glare had me blinking.
Bimbo #2 used the guest bathroom and after they left, I found the towels ON THE FLOOR! I screamed SHIITAKE MUSHROOMS! at the top of my lungs but that only made the dogs come running.
Bimbo #1 wanted to know if Cowboy was any good in bed and had we ever had sex in his office at the base and could she and her boyfriend do that some time when he wasn't in his office?
I was hard pressed not to let the dogs loose on the two of them.
Cowboy was appalled by it all. His subordinates were embarrassed and will have to do other things to get his recommendation for advancement. Marrying those two women will be on the debit side of the ledger. (Neither thanked me for dinner and neither will be invited back.)
Moving right along...
Spinach is STILL LETHAL! I'm overjoyed!
"You'll have to eat something else that's green, bambina. Got to get those nutrients into you to counterbalance the junk you eat."
Since when did he get a degree in nutrition?
"I'm going to pick up some Brussels sprouts on my way home," the vegan in a previous life announced.
"I'm going to commit Hari Kari," I replied. (I just saw "Kill Bill - Vol. 1 & 2 and I think there's a Hattori Hanzo sword somewhere in the house.)
"You better not fill up on burgers and onion rings and milkshakes before I get home. I want you to eat something nutritious for a change."
"I wouldn't dream of it," I said. (The pups and I have a date with friends at "Ye Ol Texas Smoke House" where we will stuff ourselves on ribs and shredded beef and root beer floats.)
"I mean it, Sar. No burgers and onion rings."
"Cross my heart and hope to die," I smiled.
He looked suspicious.
I continued to smile.
He narrowed his eyes.
I think my face will freeze if I don't stop smiling.
SWAT!
"Jeez! What was that for?"
"A gut feeling, bambina."
Tsk! The man has premonitions. I wonder if there's a pill for that?
And...
It's RAINING! Glorious rain! It has rained for a few days with just a few sun breaks. The pups and I have been out in it every chance we get which is only when the giant squid is away from the house.
"I don't want you in the rain, bambina."
Tsk. Too bad we can't always have what we want in life.
SWAT!
"Now what?"
"That's for just in case, imp."
I need to find that anti-premonition pill.
~Sar~
Friday, September 15, 2006
GOOD News!
I heard on the news this morning that spinach can KILL you! It's loaded with e coli! Is that the best news for kids all over the world? And me, of course. I'll eat it raw in salads but never cooked. Now I don't have to eat it at all - not ever again! I've been doing the happy dance all morning!
More good news: Ever since the giant squid was a boy - back in the dark ages - Cracker Jack(s) came in boxes with wonderful prizes. Over the years the prizes deteriorated in quality - or - I got older and they weren't quite as exciting as they used to be. Regardless, I always save them for Cowboy. Then the absolute worst thing happened. The manufacturers got rid of the boxes and packaged the delightful treat in bags. BAGS! Is that disgusting? And NO prizes!
I wrote my congressman. He was shocked to say the least.
Yesterday I was at the grocery store and ~sigh~ miracles actually happen! There, on the top shelf, way higher than my arm could reach... were BOXES of Cracker Jack(s) with PRIZES!
I dragged a grocery boy over and made him put EVERY box in my grocery cart and then I bought out their entire inventory.
"How come the seats in my SUV are sticky?" the giant Neanderthal asked later that evening when he came back from running errands. (His driver picked him up yesterday.)
I drive an old surplus Navy Jeep and it's hard to get the top on it without help. It was a bit chilly out and the pups and I had plans to eat real food at the Golden Arches and then enjoy a long run in the park so since Cowboy's SUV was available, I took it. The pups and I were very excited about the Cracker Jacks so after we stuffed ourselves on burgers, onion rings (fries for BullyBoy) root beer and milkshakes, we sat in the car and ate cracker jacks until we couldn't eat another bite. The pups tend to salivate mightily when they eat tasty things so some of their enthusiasm must have drooled onto the seats.
"Your car seats are sticky?" Sar, the innocent queried.
"What in blazes were you and the dogs eating? And why were you doing it in my car?"
Oh dear... this conversation could deteriorate.
"It was chilly out and I knew you'd want me to stay warm so I took your car when I went grocery shopping."
"You usually drive Bull's Hummer. Why not today?" the nosy man asked.
Because Cowboy's SUV had a full tank of gas, the Hummer was almost on empty. What a dumb question.
"I'm waiting for an answer, bambina."
Would you believe he crossed his arms over his chest? Tsk.
"Well?"
"Well? Ohhhhh deep subject."
SWAT!
Double tsk.
"You'll never guess what I found out today." I grinned, segueing aimlessly into another subject.
"Still waiting, Sar."
"Spinach is lethal and I have new Cracker Jack prizes for you. Isn't that great news?"
He nodded his head in understanding.
Tsk. It was like one of those toys you see in the back window of a car. Up... down... up... down... meaningless.
"Guess what else is news today?" he added.
"What?" the dumb-dumb side of my brain asked.
"Your tush is mine!"
Good thing I love him but I might just keep those Cracker Jack prizes for myself.
~Sar~
More good news: Ever since the giant squid was a boy - back in the dark ages - Cracker Jack(s) came in boxes with wonderful prizes. Over the years the prizes deteriorated in quality - or - I got older and they weren't quite as exciting as they used to be. Regardless, I always save them for Cowboy. Then the absolute worst thing happened. The manufacturers got rid of the boxes and packaged the delightful treat in bags. BAGS! Is that disgusting? And NO prizes!
I wrote my congressman. He was shocked to say the least.
Yesterday I was at the grocery store and ~sigh~ miracles actually happen! There, on the top shelf, way higher than my arm could reach... were BOXES of Cracker Jack(s) with PRIZES!
I dragged a grocery boy over and made him put EVERY box in my grocery cart and then I bought out their entire inventory.
"How come the seats in my SUV are sticky?" the giant Neanderthal asked later that evening when he came back from running errands. (His driver picked him up yesterday.)
I drive an old surplus Navy Jeep and it's hard to get the top on it without help. It was a bit chilly out and the pups and I had plans to eat real food at the Golden Arches and then enjoy a long run in the park so since Cowboy's SUV was available, I took it. The pups and I were very excited about the Cracker Jacks so after we stuffed ourselves on burgers, onion rings (fries for BullyBoy) root beer and milkshakes, we sat in the car and ate cracker jacks until we couldn't eat another bite. The pups tend to salivate mightily when they eat tasty things so some of their enthusiasm must have drooled onto the seats.
"Your car seats are sticky?" Sar, the innocent queried.
"What in blazes were you and the dogs eating? And why were you doing it in my car?"
Oh dear... this conversation could deteriorate.
"It was chilly out and I knew you'd want me to stay warm so I took your car when I went grocery shopping."
"You usually drive Bull's Hummer. Why not today?" the nosy man asked.
Because Cowboy's SUV had a full tank of gas, the Hummer was almost on empty. What a dumb question.
"I'm waiting for an answer, bambina."
Would you believe he crossed his arms over his chest? Tsk.
"Well?"
"Well? Ohhhhh deep subject."
SWAT!
Double tsk.
"You'll never guess what I found out today." I grinned, segueing aimlessly into another subject.
"Still waiting, Sar."
"Spinach is lethal and I have new Cracker Jack prizes for you. Isn't that great news?"
He nodded his head in understanding.
Tsk. It was like one of those toys you see in the back window of a car. Up... down... up... down... meaningless.
"Guess what else is news today?" he added.
"What?" the dumb-dumb side of my brain asked.
"Your tush is mine!"
Good thing I love him but I might just keep those Cracker Jack prizes for myself.
~Sar~
Thursday, September 07, 2006
Hurray! and Green-Eyed Monster!
At last! I've converted and reformatted my website to its new server and as far as I know, all the stories are where they should be - readable. If you're inclined to re-read anything and find errors, please drop me a note so I can fix them. Now, when I have a little time, I'll get back to writing again.
A few things going on here:
Had a birthday a few days ago - it was wonderful! The giant squid took me shopping in the International District and I purchased a lot of lovely threads and fiber for my art. We ate a superbly long lunch at a family owned Chinese restaurant that caters to the Chinese community here and oh boy! They fed us royally! Thought I might have to waddle out of there. I wanted take-out to nibble on later that evening but Cowboy said he wanted me to nibble on something else.
Oy! Don't go there!
Slept on the way home and woke up in my own bed - hmmm... wonder what made me so sleepy. I didn't drink any wine...
"Don't give out any details, Sar."
When I woke up, someone else was doing the nibbling...
SWAT!
Tsk
He bought me a sexy dress to wear for dinner at a supper club where we danced the tango until they threw us out. I didn't have a rose between my teeth. HE DID! And I took pictures! That one might look good on the front page of The Navy Times. There were a few more surprises. All in all, a stupendous birthday celebration.
Of course there was a birthday spanking.
The upside: The man is getting up there in years...
SWAT!
...but he can still spank.
The downside: The man is soooooo o-l-d...
SWAT!
...he forgets how many spanks he's delivered and has to start over! Again and again!
And what's this one to grow on, one to laugh about, one to make sure he got the number right... One for last year in case he forgot one, one for next year in case he loses count... One for that tree climbing episode last week, one for using my razor, one for eating pie and not sharing, one for sassiness, one for the beer you gave to BullyBoy, one for giving my Scotch to the bloodhound, one for...
Tsk!
I'm not the jealous type. I don't think I'm the jealous type. I'm fairly confident about a lot of things and all those good looking, sexy, buff ladies under Cowboy's command don't faze me in the least. Anyone that gets out of hand, whether Navy or Marine... I manage to squash pretty fast.
However... our young friend, Patrick... age 9, going on 16... has a girlfriend! A girlfriend! Her name is Melissa and she answers to Missy. Missy? EGADS! The only Missy I ever knew was someone I met in a spanking chat room who was turned on when big macho hairy ape men whispered words like "whip" "ballgag" and "crop" in her ears. They whispered other words too but I shudder when I think of them.
Back to Patrick: He brought Missy to the house for a visit... She's blonde with shoulder length curls, blue eyes, and wears frilly girly girl dresses with ankle socks that have lace on them and Mary Jane slippers. She's 7, going on "Mata Hari!"
I fed them lunch and while I cleared the dishes away and put dessert in front of them, they had eyes only for each other, and held hands under the table. This was not their best move... BullyBoy never misses an opportunity for food and licked the ice cream off Patrick's plate when the kid wasn't looking.
Cowboy thought the whole thing was cute. I, on the other hand, have serious doubts about this Missy creature. I bet the outside Rotts would eat her if I asked them to. Isn't this boy supposed to be mine until he's 30?
~Sar~
A few things going on here:
Had a birthday a few days ago - it was wonderful! The giant squid took me shopping in the International District and I purchased a lot of lovely threads and fiber for my art. We ate a superbly long lunch at a family owned Chinese restaurant that caters to the Chinese community here and oh boy! They fed us royally! Thought I might have to waddle out of there. I wanted take-out to nibble on later that evening but Cowboy said he wanted me to nibble on something else.
Oy! Don't go there!
Slept on the way home and woke up in my own bed - hmmm... wonder what made me so sleepy. I didn't drink any wine...
"Don't give out any details, Sar."
When I woke up, someone else was doing the nibbling...
SWAT!
Tsk
He bought me a sexy dress to wear for dinner at a supper club where we danced the tango until they threw us out. I didn't have a rose between my teeth. HE DID! And I took pictures! That one might look good on the front page of The Navy Times. There were a few more surprises. All in all, a stupendous birthday celebration.
Of course there was a birthday spanking.
The upside: The man is getting up there in years...
SWAT!
...but he can still spank.
The downside: The man is soooooo o-l-d...
SWAT!
...he forgets how many spanks he's delivered and has to start over! Again and again!
And what's this one to grow on, one to laugh about, one to make sure he got the number right... One for last year in case he forgot one, one for next year in case he loses count... One for that tree climbing episode last week, one for using my razor, one for eating pie and not sharing, one for sassiness, one for the beer you gave to BullyBoy, one for giving my Scotch to the bloodhound, one for...
Tsk!
I'm not the jealous type. I don't think I'm the jealous type. I'm fairly confident about a lot of things and all those good looking, sexy, buff ladies under Cowboy's command don't faze me in the least. Anyone that gets out of hand, whether Navy or Marine... I manage to squash pretty fast.
However... our young friend, Patrick... age 9, going on 16... has a girlfriend! A girlfriend! Her name is Melissa and she answers to Missy. Missy? EGADS! The only Missy I ever knew was someone I met in a spanking chat room who was turned on when big macho hairy ape men whispered words like "whip" "ballgag" and "crop" in her ears. They whispered other words too but I shudder when I think of them.
Back to Patrick: He brought Missy to the house for a visit... She's blonde with shoulder length curls, blue eyes, and wears frilly girly girl dresses with ankle socks that have lace on them and Mary Jane slippers. She's 7, going on "Mata Hari!"
I fed them lunch and while I cleared the dishes away and put dessert in front of them, they had eyes only for each other, and held hands under the table. This was not their best move... BullyBoy never misses an opportunity for food and licked the ice cream off Patrick's plate when the kid wasn't looking.
Cowboy thought the whole thing was cute. I, on the other hand, have serious doubts about this Missy creature. I bet the outside Rotts would eat her if I asked them to. Isn't this boy supposed to be mine until he's 30?
~Sar~
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Civilization
Civilization can be described in so many ways. There are times when Cowboy is so involved in something or other on the base that he reverts to Cro-Magnum man. I take this as an opportunity to participate in his caveman ways and I grill a lot of meat for our dinners. If he has a need to unwind, I toss the meat onto the outdoor grill and let him have his way with it.
This makes my pups use this time to bond with him, sitting close to his side as he turns the meat. He grumbles that they're not getting any but even he and I together cannot eat 8-10 pounds of meat... We have 5 dogs and 2 flesh-eating cats so nothing is going to waste.
I throw some potatoes on the grill and we feast like they did back in the Paleolithic caveman age. Not sure when Cro-Magnum man existed but it was one of those pre-historic-kill-the-dinosaur-before-it-kills-you-and-pass-the-mammoth ribs-please times.
Occasionally, his wits return...
"What about vegetables?" he asks.
"Vegetables?" I simply hate it when he wants to ruin a perfectly good meal with green things.
"Can't live on meat alone, babe."
Sure we can.
SWAT!
Tsk!
"Which veggie are we having, Sar?"
"A civilized one," I replied as I placed a bowl of cherry tomatoes on the table along with an assortment of olives and pickles.
There are civilized vegetables and there are uncivilized vegetables. I eat a number of raw veggies - not too crazy about cooked veggies and refuse to ingest any veggie that is not identifiable, reeks of nutriments, stinks, or doesn't slice easily with a knife. Ergo: I do not touch collard greens, brussels sprouts, turnips, or fiddleheads, among others. I am positive some of them are fungi in disguise. Not too crazy about broccoli or asparagus either. Cauliflower is okay if it's mashed and smothered in butter.
Civilized veggies are lettuce, tomatoes, cukes, radishes, sweet carrots, onions, olives, pickles, green peppers, artichoke hearts, palm hearts, and potatoes. Beets are okay if they're pickled like cucumbers. Spinach has to be raw and fresh and in a salad with mushrooms and endives - abhor cooked spinach.
"I wouldn't mind some creamed spinach," the Cro-Magnum man says.
"I wouldn't mind a new car and a new computer," I reply sweetly. "What are the chances of that?"
"Not good," he smiles. "At least, not good at the moment."
"That's how I feel about creamed spinach, squid."
SWAT!
Tsk!
"What's for dessert?"
"Cheesecake, of course."
"No cheesecake until you eat a green veggie, imp."
"No problem," I reply and dig into the pickles...
New topic:
Speaking of caveman times... When I was an undergraduate all students were required to take a course in physical science. I remember that one of the questions on the final exam was to list the ages of man. A friend and I had studied and memorized all this trivia and somewhere along the way, someone told us an alliteration to help us remember.
"Every Old Man Plays Poker Regularly." The first letter of each word represents the answers: Eocene, Oligocene, Miocene, Pliocene, Pleistocene, and I forget what the "R" stood for. Vaguely, I recall there was also a Paleocene, Decene, Epicene, and a Neocene.
My friend had a memory like a sieve so she couldn't remember what the letters stood for. I remember that she passed with flying colors because she sat next to a very smart person...
Back to first topic:
So... since I wasn't keen on eating any veggies with my grilled steaks... I waited until it was time to eat dessert and when the Cro-Magnum squid arched a brow and said I couldn't have any 'cause I didn't eat any veggies... I stripped.
When I had his complete and undivided attention, I yelled to the pups to "kiss the squid" and when they leaped up to smooch him, I grabbed the cheesecake and ran into the house.
"When I get my hands on you!"
"Promises, promises."
I scarfed about a third of it down before he caught up with me.
Cheesecake was GOOD!
Spanking was teasing.
The rest was lovely.
~Sar~
This makes my pups use this time to bond with him, sitting close to his side as he turns the meat. He grumbles that they're not getting any but even he and I together cannot eat 8-10 pounds of meat... We have 5 dogs and 2 flesh-eating cats so nothing is going to waste.
I throw some potatoes on the grill and we feast like they did back in the Paleolithic caveman age. Not sure when Cro-Magnum man existed but it was one of those pre-historic-kill-the-dinosaur-before-it-kills-you-and-pass-the-mammoth ribs-please times.
Occasionally, his wits return...
"What about vegetables?" he asks.
"Vegetables?" I simply hate it when he wants to ruin a perfectly good meal with green things.
"Can't live on meat alone, babe."
Sure we can.
SWAT!
Tsk!
"Which veggie are we having, Sar?"
"A civilized one," I replied as I placed a bowl of cherry tomatoes on the table along with an assortment of olives and pickles.
There are civilized vegetables and there are uncivilized vegetables. I eat a number of raw veggies - not too crazy about cooked veggies and refuse to ingest any veggie that is not identifiable, reeks of nutriments, stinks, or doesn't slice easily with a knife. Ergo: I do not touch collard greens, brussels sprouts, turnips, or fiddleheads, among others. I am positive some of them are fungi in disguise. Not too crazy about broccoli or asparagus either. Cauliflower is okay if it's mashed and smothered in butter.
Civilized veggies are lettuce, tomatoes, cukes, radishes, sweet carrots, onions, olives, pickles, green peppers, artichoke hearts, palm hearts, and potatoes. Beets are okay if they're pickled like cucumbers. Spinach has to be raw and fresh and in a salad with mushrooms and endives - abhor cooked spinach.
"I wouldn't mind some creamed spinach," the Cro-Magnum man says.
"I wouldn't mind a new car and a new computer," I reply sweetly. "What are the chances of that?"
"Not good," he smiles. "At least, not good at the moment."
"That's how I feel about creamed spinach, squid."
SWAT!
Tsk!
"What's for dessert?"
"Cheesecake, of course."
"No cheesecake until you eat a green veggie, imp."
"No problem," I reply and dig into the pickles...
New topic:
Speaking of caveman times... When I was an undergraduate all students were required to take a course in physical science. I remember that one of the questions on the final exam was to list the ages of man. A friend and I had studied and memorized all this trivia and somewhere along the way, someone told us an alliteration to help us remember.
"Every Old Man Plays Poker Regularly." The first letter of each word represents the answers: Eocene, Oligocene, Miocene, Pliocene, Pleistocene, and I forget what the "R" stood for. Vaguely, I recall there was also a Paleocene, Decene, Epicene, and a Neocene.
My friend had a memory like a sieve so she couldn't remember what the letters stood for. I remember that she passed with flying colors because she sat next to a very smart person...
Back to first topic:
So... since I wasn't keen on eating any veggies with my grilled steaks... I waited until it was time to eat dessert and when the Cro-Magnum squid arched a brow and said I couldn't have any 'cause I didn't eat any veggies... I stripped.
When I had his complete and undivided attention, I yelled to the pups to "kiss the squid" and when they leaped up to smooch him, I grabbed the cheesecake and ran into the house.
"When I get my hands on you!"
"Promises, promises."
I scarfed about a third of it down before he caught up with me.
Cheesecake was GOOD!
Spanking was teasing.
The rest was lovely.
~Sar~
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