Cowboy here. Sar and I are home. It's good to be here. I promised my wife we'd get back to Bethesda sometime after Thanksgiving. Will go back sooner if necessary. I'm optimistic the young man is slowly recovering.
Sar didn't want to leave; I understood that. David will remain for the time being; he has a condo nearby, can monitor what's happening. My inexhaustible imp slept the entire 5-hour flight, slept through the drive from the airport home. She woke to greet the animals left behind, had a bit of juice, fell asleep at the table. I carried her to bed, slept through the night. Woke early, demanded supper which she missed, ate a bit of warmed up stew, took a nap, then wondered about missing breakfast. That's Sar exhausted, never admitting it.
Got home Friday night, bought some candy for the kids, they all came around last night. Sar was awake enough to make sure I didn't give any chocolate away. Had to retrieve the stuff the imp stole from the kids, give it back. Ran out of sweets, dug into Sar's twinkie/cracker jack stash. Heard my gun cabinet click open-- decided I gave enough of those away. Did I ever mention Sar has a set of lock picks, knows how to use them?
My little gal has a couple of medical appointments coming up – made them before we left the DC area. Got to check out her abdominal discomfort, a few other concerns.
Brought the cat home, could have left it with David but it goes where Sar goes. All our animals do that, shadowing her everywhere. Grateful we don't own goats.
Glad to be home, glad to have my imp to myself. There's a few long overdue swats in her future. I'll replace the twinkies and cracker jack first.
Cowboy
Sunday, October 31, 2010
Sunday, October 24, 2010
Hello Sweet People!
Cowboy and I are astounded (and humbled) by all the personal emails, cards and notes we have received regarding Bull. Thank you. Your positive and healing thoughts and prayers have comforted us as well as Bull's mama and family. I'm happy to announce that Bull is awake, coherent, talking, and making food demands. He remains in the intensive care unit for the time being. He has had two surgeries since we've been here, due to have several more. ICU is a bit of insurance to monitor his vitals – anesthesia, recovery, etc. They wheeled in another bed so those of us staying… can sleep more comfortably when we nap.
I continue to make lasagna, apple cake and other food Bull favors. His mama makes spoon bread for her boy and some indescribable concoction that smells suspiciously like road kill but I'm afraid to ask. DomTom has taken up permanent space on Bull's bed, leaving only to use the litter box. The animal helps himself to Bull's food when the medical staff isn't looking. I keep canned tuna and salmon for the feline. This makes it very happy.
Bull isn't out of the woods by a long shot. He has several surgeries ahead of him, months and months of rehab. He hasn't complained of pain, his injuries, or what's ahead of him. It isn't that he's stoic; he's just calm, taking each day as it comes. He has a strong faith in his God and I think that also sustains him. I, on the other hand, believe in encouraging every small step back toward a normal life. If he needs to be yelled at, I'll do that, too.
His former commanding officer has been here several times along with members of his unit. Lots of folks from his little town in Arkansas have also visited. Bull is a hometown hero. Considering his actions on the front lines, he's a national hero as well.
I'm getting a little more rest now that Bull is awake. I think all that excess adrenaline kept me wide-eyed while he was unconscious. Cowboy wants us to go home. I'd like to stay a little longer, be sure Bull doesn't have a relapse. I wouldn't have any problem making Thanksgiving dinner in David's condo, bring it to the hospital to celebrate our many blessings. We'll see.
Personally, I think Cowboy needs some "us" time. I'm just saying…
~Sar~
I continue to make lasagna, apple cake and other food Bull favors. His mama makes spoon bread for her boy and some indescribable concoction that smells suspiciously like road kill but I'm afraid to ask. DomTom has taken up permanent space on Bull's bed, leaving only to use the litter box. The animal helps himself to Bull's food when the medical staff isn't looking. I keep canned tuna and salmon for the feline. This makes it very happy.
Bull isn't out of the woods by a long shot. He has several surgeries ahead of him, months and months of rehab. He hasn't complained of pain, his injuries, or what's ahead of him. It isn't that he's stoic; he's just calm, taking each day as it comes. He has a strong faith in his God and I think that also sustains him. I, on the other hand, believe in encouraging every small step back toward a normal life. If he needs to be yelled at, I'll do that, too.
His former commanding officer has been here several times along with members of his unit. Lots of folks from his little town in Arkansas have also visited. Bull is a hometown hero. Considering his actions on the front lines, he's a national hero as well.
I'm getting a little more rest now that Bull is awake. I think all that excess adrenaline kept me wide-eyed while he was unconscious. Cowboy wants us to go home. I'd like to stay a little longer, be sure Bull doesn't have a relapse. I wouldn't have any problem making Thanksgiving dinner in David's condo, bring it to the hospital to celebrate our many blessings. We'll see.
Personally, I think Cowboy needs some "us" time. I'm just saying…
~Sar~
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
More Good News
Cowboy here. Bull is awake about 50% of the time. Don't know what caused the turn around but will impart a few events. I was on my cell checking up on matters back home. Sar was sitting next to Bull, talking quietly to him. David was here, reading. Suddenly, an alarm sounded in the room, making us all jump. Sar immediately jumped on top of the comatose Bull, on his chest, punched his chest using both fists, the alarm went silent. Medics came running, Bull began to flat line they said. Don't know if my wife brought him back by her actions or the good Lord answered a prayer or 2. We are all grateful regardless.
Sar said she didn't see the flat line beginning; she simply reacted to the sound. Medics said her actions were similar to what they would have done. Probably would have done it with more finesse. Doesn't matter. It worked. Would like to add the birbintella also screamed as loud as she could that he better not die on her… A few things added to his IV lines and Bull's vitals were back to normal.
Later the tomcat – DomTom - crawled under Bull's hospital shirt, its head sticking out at the neck. Bull woke briefly, whispered "Tommy," that's what he calls the cat. In all honesty, have no idea what to make of that.
David and I continue to talk to the man, our words meant to encourage his well being, his future. Sar continues to yell at him, sometimes whispers words we cannot hear. The imp's expression varies – fierce, demanding, other times a tenderness that recalls days of regret/grief we have shared in the past. Bull drifts away now and again, happy to say more awake than not, says a few words, smiles at my imp.
Sar is more tired these days, eats when I put food in front of her. She rallies a bit after a brief rest, insists on staying close to Bull. From previous experiences, it is of no use to try forcing her away to rest. I hold her until she nods off; for now it is enough.
I humbly ask for your continued prayers for all our military, veterans, wounded, those on active duty. Sar joins me in thanking you for those prayers and good wishes for our own as well as those across the world fighting to give others freedom.
Cowboy
Sar said she didn't see the flat line beginning; she simply reacted to the sound. Medics said her actions were similar to what they would have done. Probably would have done it with more finesse. Doesn't matter. It worked. Would like to add the birbintella also screamed as loud as she could that he better not die on her… A few things added to his IV lines and Bull's vitals were back to normal.
Later the tomcat – DomTom - crawled under Bull's hospital shirt, its head sticking out at the neck. Bull woke briefly, whispered "Tommy," that's what he calls the cat. In all honesty, have no idea what to make of that.
David and I continue to talk to the man, our words meant to encourage his well being, his future. Sar continues to yell at him, sometimes whispers words we cannot hear. The imp's expression varies – fierce, demanding, other times a tenderness that recalls days of regret/grief we have shared in the past. Bull drifts away now and again, happy to say more awake than not, says a few words, smiles at my imp.
Sar is more tired these days, eats when I put food in front of her. She rallies a bit after a brief rest, insists on staying close to Bull. From previous experiences, it is of no use to try forcing her away to rest. I hold her until she nods off; for now it is enough.
I humbly ask for your continued prayers for all our military, veterans, wounded, those on active duty. Sar joins me in thanking you for those prayers and good wishes for our own as well as those across the world fighting to give others freedom.
Cowboy
Thursday, October 07, 2010
Hopeful News
Cowboy here. Bull has made some improvements. Once in a while – not too often – he opens his eyes. Not sure this is due to medical intervention or my wife's constant badgering him to wake up. It's a mystery how anyone can sleep while Sar yells recriminations. When the imp runs out of steam, she rests her head near Bull's ear, whispers things I don't hear. Don't know if she's threatening him, cajoling him or making promises. If it's promises, it's food related for certain.
Bull's folks are amazed at the bond shared between those 2. Not me. The man has seen to my wife's safety and welfare when I'm not around. From what I've seen, he loves my imp, a good thing. In return, Sar has committed a total friendship, not something she does for too many folks. I know that love is returned 100-fold. Bull is family.
The cat continues to stay at Bull's side, making feline sounds, head bumping his chin, purring. The medics take its presence in stride, makes me wonder what other strange things happened in ICU suites.
Sar is not getting as much rest as is needed. I have to pry her away from Bull, get her to eat, nap. As each day passes, her strength dwindles a bit, slightly worrisome. While here, I am trying to find a medic brave enough to check her out. The marines outside Bull's room rotate every 4 hours; each comes in to check on Bull when they begin/end their shifts. Sar baked sweets for them, rapidly learned details of their lives, each one already under the imp's spell.
Last night was a good night for all of us. Bull was aware for a few moments, saw Sar, mumbled something, drifted back to wherever his mind is. Sar said he mumbled "apple cake." She kissed his cheek, whispered something to him, fell asleep on my lap. We spent a more restful night at David's condo, back here in the morning.
The medics said Bull's drifting in and out of consciousness is a hopeful sign. I continue to ask the good Lord for assistance; Sar lets the good Lord know she has many higher expectations. Thank you for your prayers, your good wishes.
Cowboy
Bull's folks are amazed at the bond shared between those 2. Not me. The man has seen to my wife's safety and welfare when I'm not around. From what I've seen, he loves my imp, a good thing. In return, Sar has committed a total friendship, not something she does for too many folks. I know that love is returned 100-fold. Bull is family.
The cat continues to stay at Bull's side, making feline sounds, head bumping his chin, purring. The medics take its presence in stride, makes me wonder what other strange things happened in ICU suites.
Sar is not getting as much rest as is needed. I have to pry her away from Bull, get her to eat, nap. As each day passes, her strength dwindles a bit, slightly worrisome. While here, I am trying to find a medic brave enough to check her out. The marines outside Bull's room rotate every 4 hours; each comes in to check on Bull when they begin/end their shifts. Sar baked sweets for them, rapidly learned details of their lives, each one already under the imp's spell.
Last night was a good night for all of us. Bull was aware for a few moments, saw Sar, mumbled something, drifted back to wherever his mind is. Sar said he mumbled "apple cake." She kissed his cheek, whispered something to him, fell asleep on my lap. We spent a more restful night at David's condo, back here in the morning.
The medics said Bull's drifting in and out of consciousness is a hopeful sign. I continue to ask the good Lord for assistance; Sar lets the good Lord know she has many higher expectations. Thank you for your prayers, your good wishes.
Cowboy
Friday, October 01, 2010
Bull Update
Cowboy here. Bull remains in a coma as I write this. Prior to our arrival, the medics told us Bull has been entirely motionless, no response to outside stimuli. They believe his injuries are severe to the point that his mind is blanking, waiting for his body to heal.
Sar didn't buy this. She understands deep pain, has been through that, says a body goes quiet but the brain is still working. When the medics left the room, mia bambina put the tomcat on Bull's chest. The large feline made sounds I've never heard before. Took awhile for it to settle down, then continued to purr as it licked Bull's face, neck, ears. In the course of licking his face, it dislodged the tubes in his nostrils that feed oxygen. Bull's chest rose; he breathed easily on his own. Sar was the only one not surprised.
The cat hissed at the medics who, by the grace of God, didn't say a word about an animal in an ICU suite. A good thing. My wife would have kicked them all to hell; I'd have some serious explaining to do. We take turns staying near him, Sar and I, Bull's mother, sisters, nephews. Members of his unit stand honor guard outside his room, a long Navy/Marine tradition. I always know the minute David arrives; the guards greet him formally.
Modern medicine has never come up against the likes of my imp. She's losing patience. Regardless of their treatment, many IVs, injections, Bull remains in a coma. Yesterday, when they were out of the room, Sar straddled Bull's chest, whispered a few things to the unconscious man, then startled all of us by yelling at him to wake up. Apparently, that wasn't sufficient. Sar loudly accused him of breaking promises, a serious offense in her opinion. Bull moved his arms a bit, nothing too significant but definite movement. His shoulders are heavily bandaged, among his injuries, they had been dislocated and realigned. His head moves a bit to the side. He is agitated. Hospital personnel do not approve of my wife's actions but admit that an agitated man in a coma is a positive sign of brain activity. That is a hopeful thing.
I had a few moments of concern that Sar might be hurting Bull. The medics assured me he is loaded with morphine, doesn't feel pain or physical pressure. I hope that is true. I pulled mia bambina off of the man. Might as well have tried to pry a pit bull's jaws off of its dinner. My warrior woman is tenacious, determined to see Bull's eyes open. I, for one, am grateful Sar does not carry a weapon.
If Bull is going to recover, he will probably do so via modern medicine. I am convinced your prayers and ours also have much to do with this, Sar's yelling at God notwithstanding. He is a strong willed man; I am optimistic he will get through this. Your continued prayers are most welcome. Will try to update again in a few days.
Cowboy
Sar didn't buy this. She understands deep pain, has been through that, says a body goes quiet but the brain is still working. When the medics left the room, mia bambina put the tomcat on Bull's chest. The large feline made sounds I've never heard before. Took awhile for it to settle down, then continued to purr as it licked Bull's face, neck, ears. In the course of licking his face, it dislodged the tubes in his nostrils that feed oxygen. Bull's chest rose; he breathed easily on his own. Sar was the only one not surprised.
The cat hissed at the medics who, by the grace of God, didn't say a word about an animal in an ICU suite. A good thing. My wife would have kicked them all to hell; I'd have some serious explaining to do. We take turns staying near him, Sar and I, Bull's mother, sisters, nephews. Members of his unit stand honor guard outside his room, a long Navy/Marine tradition. I always know the minute David arrives; the guards greet him formally.
Modern medicine has never come up against the likes of my imp. She's losing patience. Regardless of their treatment, many IVs, injections, Bull remains in a coma. Yesterday, when they were out of the room, Sar straddled Bull's chest, whispered a few things to the unconscious man, then startled all of us by yelling at him to wake up. Apparently, that wasn't sufficient. Sar loudly accused him of breaking promises, a serious offense in her opinion. Bull moved his arms a bit, nothing too significant but definite movement. His shoulders are heavily bandaged, among his injuries, they had been dislocated and realigned. His head moves a bit to the side. He is agitated. Hospital personnel do not approve of my wife's actions but admit that an agitated man in a coma is a positive sign of brain activity. That is a hopeful thing.
I had a few moments of concern that Sar might be hurting Bull. The medics assured me he is loaded with morphine, doesn't feel pain or physical pressure. I hope that is true. I pulled mia bambina off of the man. Might as well have tried to pry a pit bull's jaws off of its dinner. My warrior woman is tenacious, determined to see Bull's eyes open. I, for one, am grateful Sar does not carry a weapon.
If Bull is going to recover, he will probably do so via modern medicine. I am convinced your prayers and ours also have much to do with this, Sar's yelling at God notwithstanding. He is a strong willed man; I am optimistic he will get through this. Your continued prayers are most welcome. Will try to update again in a few days.
Cowboy
Monday, September 27, 2010
Prayers
Cowboy here. As I write this, we are at the airfield waiting to fly to the east coast. Our young friend Bull has slipped into a coma. The medics have only said it's a very serious situation. Bull's injuries are extensive; a lesser man would already have succumbed to the inevitable.
This is a time when I expect my wife to lean on me. She will, eventually. For now, the imp is in combat mode. She will stay strong for Bull, for his family. I am always amazed when something occurs that deflates a lesser person. Not my imp. If willpower alone would do it, Bull would be on his feet within moments of her arrival. I say my prayers, ask for divine guidance, divine intervention. Not Sar. I'll hear her yelling at the good Lord for allowing this to happen. She will remind Him that she has never asked for much in her lifetime. Believe me, her childhood had times/events that could have used a little extra help. Sar will never ask for herself but she will ask the Lord to help Bull recover.
My wife has little patience around medics. She demands accurate information, will never entertain vague answers. These are some of the reasons why medics often suffer her wrath. If the answers are obscure or treatment is explained poorly, she'll demand to see medical school transcripts, research on medications, treatments, etc. Once, prior to a surgical procedure, she asked to see a physician's school records before allowing him to touch her. He didn't pass muster so Sar refused to let him near her. Impractical? Perhaps, but having faith in one's doctor has a lot to do to ensure recovery, emergencies excluded.
When Bull arrived at Bethesda Sar and I entered the ICU to be near him. The medics didn't blink an eye. Sar would have caused a ruckus if they had. At the time I didn't know the little devil had arranged for our tomcat to join us in the ICU. Hardly traditional medical protocol. A "healthy" thing to do? Not that I'm aware of. Bull is extraordinarily fond of the big feline; in return the young man is 1 of 3-4 people the cat adores. It tolerate no one else. Sar bribed a couple of young Seals we know. They dressed in "medic" uniforms, carried the beast into the unit. I don't know the intimate details – didn't ask any questions. The visit did wonders for Bull's state of mind.
We're about to board our flight. I can see the cat's whiskers sticking out of Sar's duffel. If that animal can make a difference in Bull's current state, I'll do whatever it takes. His recovery is uppermost in our minds. Sar's peace of mind at doing whatever it takes to help that recovery along is of equal concern. Bull's family is also by his side.
A prayer or 2 from any of you would be a welcome addition to my own in petitioning the good Lord's help.
Cowboy
This is a time when I expect my wife to lean on me. She will, eventually. For now, the imp is in combat mode. She will stay strong for Bull, for his family. I am always amazed when something occurs that deflates a lesser person. Not my imp. If willpower alone would do it, Bull would be on his feet within moments of her arrival. I say my prayers, ask for divine guidance, divine intervention. Not Sar. I'll hear her yelling at the good Lord for allowing this to happen. She will remind Him that she has never asked for much in her lifetime. Believe me, her childhood had times/events that could have used a little extra help. Sar will never ask for herself but she will ask the Lord to help Bull recover.
My wife has little patience around medics. She demands accurate information, will never entertain vague answers. These are some of the reasons why medics often suffer her wrath. If the answers are obscure or treatment is explained poorly, she'll demand to see medical school transcripts, research on medications, treatments, etc. Once, prior to a surgical procedure, she asked to see a physician's school records before allowing him to touch her. He didn't pass muster so Sar refused to let him near her. Impractical? Perhaps, but having faith in one's doctor has a lot to do to ensure recovery, emergencies excluded.
When Bull arrived at Bethesda Sar and I entered the ICU to be near him. The medics didn't blink an eye. Sar would have caused a ruckus if they had. At the time I didn't know the little devil had arranged for our tomcat to join us in the ICU. Hardly traditional medical protocol. A "healthy" thing to do? Not that I'm aware of. Bull is extraordinarily fond of the big feline; in return the young man is 1 of 3-4 people the cat adores. It tolerate no one else. Sar bribed a couple of young Seals we know. They dressed in "medic" uniforms, carried the beast into the unit. I don't know the intimate details – didn't ask any questions. The visit did wonders for Bull's state of mind.
We're about to board our flight. I can see the cat's whiskers sticking out of Sar's duffel. If that animal can make a difference in Bull's current state, I'll do whatever it takes. His recovery is uppermost in our minds. Sar's peace of mind at doing whatever it takes to help that recovery along is of equal concern. Bull's family is also by his side.
A prayer or 2 from any of you would be a welcome addition to my own in petitioning the good Lord's help.
Cowboy
Wednesday, September 08, 2010
A Bit of News
Cowboy here. Good news: Mia bambina celebrated a birthday a few days ago. Glory made a triple fudge chocolate kind of cake. The imp was hard pressed to share it but she did. Glory promised her another just for herself. Sar will probably eat it in the middle of the night or in the pantry or somewhere nobody will be. My wife hates to share in general, chocolate not at all. Praline crunch ice cream, chicory coffee, some other treats were on the menu. She was flying high the whole day and night.
I try to make every birthday a special one for her. No festivities of any kind when she was a kid. Glory and family made up for a lot of that when Sar moved in with them but early childhood memories still sting a bit. Birthday presents were personal items special to us and Max and his ladies. We saved the birthday spanking for our private time alone.
News of concern: Bull remains hospitalized. His recuperation is a slow process. Surgery will debilitate him further but in the long run, is necessary for his return to health. He's awake, talking. It's easy to see it remains an effort for him to do so. Sar calls him every day. I believe that's good for both of them. It would be nice to be able to take him home to Washington. Sar would nurse him back to health whether he liked it or not. Having the pups around him as well as our tomcat would do more wonders for his head. Perhaps his mother and sisters would also come along. Time will tell.
Serious news: Sar's abdominal difficulties have returned. I think we caught it in time. Medical tests are on the agenda next week when we return to the Pacific Northwest. She can't afford to lose much more of her intestinal tract but we'll do whatever's necessary. A bit of discomfort but nothing's slowed her down yet. I make sure she eats well; the imp knows better than to fight me on that. Unfortunately, the medics still haven't figured out how to treat her without getting bruised or kicked.
You know those "10 most wanted" photos posted in some U.S. post offices? I think Sar's photo is # 1 hardest-to-treat patient posters on medical internet boards. The docs who treat Sar are military, mostly Navy. Rumor has it they get combat pay for treating my imp.
Returning to Washington in a few days. Got someone to air out the house, etc. Sar's eager to get back to her studio, several pieces of work await her. New materials have been ordered. It's like Christmas when they arrive. The imp gets very excited about opening the boxes.
The best news: Sar is writing!
Cowboy
I try to make every birthday a special one for her. No festivities of any kind when she was a kid. Glory and family made up for a lot of that when Sar moved in with them but early childhood memories still sting a bit. Birthday presents were personal items special to us and Max and his ladies. We saved the birthday spanking for our private time alone.
News of concern: Bull remains hospitalized. His recuperation is a slow process. Surgery will debilitate him further but in the long run, is necessary for his return to health. He's awake, talking. It's easy to see it remains an effort for him to do so. Sar calls him every day. I believe that's good for both of them. It would be nice to be able to take him home to Washington. Sar would nurse him back to health whether he liked it or not. Having the pups around him as well as our tomcat would do more wonders for his head. Perhaps his mother and sisters would also come along. Time will tell.
Serious news: Sar's abdominal difficulties have returned. I think we caught it in time. Medical tests are on the agenda next week when we return to the Pacific Northwest. She can't afford to lose much more of her intestinal tract but we'll do whatever's necessary. A bit of discomfort but nothing's slowed her down yet. I make sure she eats well; the imp knows better than to fight me on that. Unfortunately, the medics still haven't figured out how to treat her without getting bruised or kicked.
You know those "10 most wanted" photos posted in some U.S. post offices? I think Sar's photo is # 1 hardest-to-treat patient posters on medical internet boards. The docs who treat Sar are military, mostly Navy. Rumor has it they get combat pay for treating my imp.
Returning to Washington in a few days. Got someone to air out the house, etc. Sar's eager to get back to her studio, several pieces of work await her. New materials have been ordered. It's like Christmas when they arrive. The imp gets very excited about opening the boxes.
The best news: Sar is writing!
Cowboy
Friday, August 20, 2010
Disconnected!
Hard to believe but we were without Internet service for several weeks. Had use of a laptop on battery only – had to go to an Internet café for online time of any length. Amazing the things we miss when we're dependent on them and spoiled. We reverted back to our caveman days before technology and online communication. I actually wrote real letters with a pen and stationary; Cowboy used his cell phone and wasn't happy about it. He likes written communication so he can go back and read/remember what he said…
SWAT!
Tsk
We left Cape Breton – I loved it, lots of breezy weather, rain, and wind – my kind of heaven. I practically lived in sweats and a rain poncho. 'Twas glorious!
You-know-who was beside himself that I'd get sick. The man is anal retentive in spite of all the years of my influence. I made lots of peachy things for him but that didn't slow him down when it came to "wear this, wear that, stay out of the rain, etc." I started lip synching his words I've heard them so many times.
We spent a little time in DC/Baltimore area – Bethesda to be exact. Our good friend Bull was severely injured in a war zone. I was manic until I saw him; then I vacillated between exhilaration that he was alive with all his parts attached and severely depressed at the extent of his injuries. Several new medals/ribbons have been added to his uniform and more than that, I can't say. I don't know the details of what he did; I only know that he served our country well, he's going to have a lengthy recuperation and he has finished his last tour with the U.S. Marine Corps. More about him and this event in a "Pieces" I'll write at another time. For now I've done all I could to ensure that his medical care will be the best we have and that his spirits are as high as we can make them. Bull's mama and sisters are waiting in DC to take him home to Arkansas.
Currently, we're in Gulfport, Mississippi visiting Max and his ladies. Glory's not feeling 100% and she's the anchor of the family – chief cook, homemaker and Mother Superior. Vi is running back and forth getting "take-out." Vi's cooking skills are limited to boiling water and that doesn't always come out right… Since I'm here, I'm making hot meals and Max is bribing me to stay in the kitchen by keeping a large pot of chicory coffee available. I'm sorely addicted to the stuff. Cowboy tries to monitor that but… did I ever mention he was toilet trained far too early in life?
SWAT!
Tsk
The pups love being here, the cats not so much. We'll stay for a while and enjoy the beach. It's hurricane season in this part of the world – keeping our fingers crossed it remains calm. There's also some of the BP "oil" mess to contend with.
Going back to Washington eventually. I've missed being there. We've had a wonderful wanderlust year – in sickness and in health – lots of good memories. Have had a lot of emails asking when I'll post something new to my website. I honestly don't know. My muse should be tired of vacationing; I'm getting a little itch to start writing again. Hopefully it will be soon.
~Sar~
SWAT!
Tsk
We left Cape Breton – I loved it, lots of breezy weather, rain, and wind – my kind of heaven. I practically lived in sweats and a rain poncho. 'Twas glorious!
You-know-who was beside himself that I'd get sick. The man is anal retentive in spite of all the years of my influence. I made lots of peachy things for him but that didn't slow him down when it came to "wear this, wear that, stay out of the rain, etc." I started lip synching his words I've heard them so many times.
We spent a little time in DC/Baltimore area – Bethesda to be exact. Our good friend Bull was severely injured in a war zone. I was manic until I saw him; then I vacillated between exhilaration that he was alive with all his parts attached and severely depressed at the extent of his injuries. Several new medals/ribbons have been added to his uniform and more than that, I can't say. I don't know the details of what he did; I only know that he served our country well, he's going to have a lengthy recuperation and he has finished his last tour with the U.S. Marine Corps. More about him and this event in a "Pieces" I'll write at another time. For now I've done all I could to ensure that his medical care will be the best we have and that his spirits are as high as we can make them. Bull's mama and sisters are waiting in DC to take him home to Arkansas.
Currently, we're in Gulfport, Mississippi visiting Max and his ladies. Glory's not feeling 100% and she's the anchor of the family – chief cook, homemaker and Mother Superior. Vi is running back and forth getting "take-out." Vi's cooking skills are limited to boiling water and that doesn't always come out right… Since I'm here, I'm making hot meals and Max is bribing me to stay in the kitchen by keeping a large pot of chicory coffee available. I'm sorely addicted to the stuff. Cowboy tries to monitor that but… did I ever mention he was toilet trained far too early in life?
SWAT!
Tsk
The pups love being here, the cats not so much. We'll stay for a while and enjoy the beach. It's hurricane season in this part of the world – keeping our fingers crossed it remains calm. There's also some of the BP "oil" mess to contend with.
Going back to Washington eventually. I've missed being there. We've had a wonderful wanderlust year – in sickness and in health – lots of good memories. Have had a lot of emails asking when I'll post something new to my website. I honestly don't know. My muse should be tired of vacationing; I'm getting a little itch to start writing again. Hopefully it will be soon.
~Sar~
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Disgraceful!
I know, I know. It's seems like forever since I last posted. Thankfully, my husband feels genuine pangs of guilt if we don't keep the blog active. I don't suffer guilt so he gets to update regularly. The man's turning into a real blogger… as opposed to yours truly who blogs occasionally. (He also exaggerates mightily.)
SWAT!
Tsk
We're in Cape Breton – cool days, freezing cold nights, a lot of rain - gorgeous when it's over the Atlantic. I'm in heaven!
His Holiness is in protective mode – "wear this, wear that, stay out of the rain, etc." I'm in ignoring him mode and to ensure my safety, I keep the Rotts and Mastiff close.
Took a short detour down to Chicago for a couple of days. A constant from my childhood – Molly from Molly's Diner – the lady who fed all the hungry kids in my neighborhood growing up – passed away. I've never written much about Molly; she was a particularly private person and a really generous one. One day I'll have to tell you about her huge heart and her creative ways to feed the hungriest of us without patronizing. Huge crowds of adults came to her funeral; some I knew, many were strangers. Those who spoke sang high praise to this woman who kept many of us from starvation and who hid us when the social workers came around looking for us. I'll always be grateful that she had a special place in her heart for us ragamuffins.
Henry, our Canuck cat has finally won over the dogs – still working on DomTom. Apparently our cat has a definite bias against Canadian cats. Cowboy refers to Henry as that "wandering waste of fur" and "Fitzroy." Fitzroy is the name given to Henry the VIII's royal bastards. Fitz=bastard; roy=royal. I had no idea ole Henry was able to procreate felines…
Cowboy is getting O-L-D! He had a birthday first of June. Tsk! Another one! I felt sorry for the old guy and ate most of his cake and ice cream. This did not go over very well and when he got itchy hands I set the dogs on him. He's still kinda spry but there's no doubt he's slowing down.
SWAT!
Tsk
Bundling up to sit on the deck to watch the sun set over the water – brisk breezes, gorgeous sunset, hovering giant squid. I'm planning to anoint the next full moon with a naked dance. However… first I have to chase the squid into a closet and lock the door. Trying to dance and dodge the Neanderthal is a lot of work. I thought I'd leave some peachy things warm from the oven to distract him. Cross your fingers for me! Sometimes I just gotta dance!
~Sar~
SWAT!
Tsk
We're in Cape Breton – cool days, freezing cold nights, a lot of rain - gorgeous when it's over the Atlantic. I'm in heaven!
His Holiness is in protective mode – "wear this, wear that, stay out of the rain, etc." I'm in ignoring him mode and to ensure my safety, I keep the Rotts and Mastiff close.
Took a short detour down to Chicago for a couple of days. A constant from my childhood – Molly from Molly's Diner – the lady who fed all the hungry kids in my neighborhood growing up – passed away. I've never written much about Molly; she was a particularly private person and a really generous one. One day I'll have to tell you about her huge heart and her creative ways to feed the hungriest of us without patronizing. Huge crowds of adults came to her funeral; some I knew, many were strangers. Those who spoke sang high praise to this woman who kept many of us from starvation and who hid us when the social workers came around looking for us. I'll always be grateful that she had a special place in her heart for us ragamuffins.
Henry, our Canuck cat has finally won over the dogs – still working on DomTom. Apparently our cat has a definite bias against Canadian cats. Cowboy refers to Henry as that "wandering waste of fur" and "Fitzroy." Fitzroy is the name given to Henry the VIII's royal bastards. Fitz=bastard; roy=royal. I had no idea ole Henry was able to procreate felines…
Cowboy is getting O-L-D! He had a birthday first of June. Tsk! Another one! I felt sorry for the old guy and ate most of his cake and ice cream. This did not go over very well and when he got itchy hands I set the dogs on him. He's still kinda spry but there's no doubt he's slowing down.
SWAT!
Tsk
Bundling up to sit on the deck to watch the sun set over the water – brisk breezes, gorgeous sunset, hovering giant squid. I'm planning to anoint the next full moon with a naked dance. However… first I have to chase the squid into a closet and lock the door. Trying to dance and dodge the Neanderthal is a lot of work. I thought I'd leave some peachy things warm from the oven to distract him. Cross your fingers for me! Sometimes I just gotta dance!
~Sar~
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
Blogging, Ants & Doghouse
Cowboy here.
Feels like it's my blog. Seem to be posting regularly now. Never would have thought that would happen.
You know it's spring when insects show up. In Washington we have minute spiders, the occasional large one gets in the house, also ants about 1/8th inch in length. Sar is ok about small bugs, turns into warrior woman when it's a large spider. Those times I'm home I can hear her screaming at it to die. I generally remove the interloper before my wife can massacre it. Here in Quebec, haven't seen any spiders but there are ants about half an inch long. To hear Sar tell it, they're a foot long. Sar does not like ants; they die a tortuous death around her. I'm grateful we don't have palmetto bugs – had them in Florida – my wife went ballistic when she spotted one. Should have set the Mastiff on them; the dog's drool is lethal.
The imp had a bout of stomach flu - 1 of those 24-hour flu bugs – intestinal stuff, nasty business. Was pretty much bed ridden for 24 hours. When she's feeling unwell, the animals stay close. The Rott leans his head close to Sar's head on the bed – make a soft growling purr, meant to be a comfort. The Mastiff whines continuously. The cat sleeps at her shoulder, the purrs have a chirp in it, a concerned sound.
I walk in the room and the atmosphere changes. I tell the dogs to "back up." The Rott goes to the far side of the room and growls low – a less than comforting sound. The animal is positive Sar's bout of flu is my fault. The Mastiff howls, yodels, makes a nuisance until he can come back near the bed. The cat stays where he is, raises his head, hisses and spits at me. The cat would bet his life it's my fault the imp is feeling poorly. A day later, the flu is gone, Sar has had a good night's rest. Wakes up, says she's mad at me.
I ask why she's mad at me. The imp doesn't remember why— just knows I did something that made her mad. Was it something recent I ask? Was it something I did a long time ago? She can't remember but says I better not do that again. I can't help it – I laugh. This makes the imp glare at me. I figure I'm already in the doghouse so I ought to spank her so she has a legitimate reason to be mad. She sets the dogs on me.
I promise to make cream cheese omelets or waffles with ice cream if she'll stop being mad. Sar suggests I forsake peaches for a month to atone for whatever it was I did. That is too much to ask. I flip the imp over to apply a swat or 2. The imp giggles. The band played on.
We'll be in Nova Scotia in June, Cape Breton to be exact. There's a time share we've stayed in before – on the water. From there I'm hoping to reserve a room at the Von Trapp lodge in Stowe, Vermont. Then we'll head for home. Sar loves the Von Trapp lodge – a huge buffet at every meal. They stock Twinkies just for her.
Cowboy
Feels like it's my blog. Seem to be posting regularly now. Never would have thought that would happen.
You know it's spring when insects show up. In Washington we have minute spiders, the occasional large one gets in the house, also ants about 1/8th inch in length. Sar is ok about small bugs, turns into warrior woman when it's a large spider. Those times I'm home I can hear her screaming at it to die. I generally remove the interloper before my wife can massacre it. Here in Quebec, haven't seen any spiders but there are ants about half an inch long. To hear Sar tell it, they're a foot long. Sar does not like ants; they die a tortuous death around her. I'm grateful we don't have palmetto bugs – had them in Florida – my wife went ballistic when she spotted one. Should have set the Mastiff on them; the dog's drool is lethal.
The imp had a bout of stomach flu - 1 of those 24-hour flu bugs – intestinal stuff, nasty business. Was pretty much bed ridden for 24 hours. When she's feeling unwell, the animals stay close. The Rott leans his head close to Sar's head on the bed – make a soft growling purr, meant to be a comfort. The Mastiff whines continuously. The cat sleeps at her shoulder, the purrs have a chirp in it, a concerned sound.
I walk in the room and the atmosphere changes. I tell the dogs to "back up." The Rott goes to the far side of the room and growls low – a less than comforting sound. The animal is positive Sar's bout of flu is my fault. The Mastiff howls, yodels, makes a nuisance until he can come back near the bed. The cat stays where he is, raises his head, hisses and spits at me. The cat would bet his life it's my fault the imp is feeling poorly. A day later, the flu is gone, Sar has had a good night's rest. Wakes up, says she's mad at me.
I ask why she's mad at me. The imp doesn't remember why— just knows I did something that made her mad. Was it something recent I ask? Was it something I did a long time ago? She can't remember but says I better not do that again. I can't help it – I laugh. This makes the imp glare at me. I figure I'm already in the doghouse so I ought to spank her so she has a legitimate reason to be mad. She sets the dogs on me.
I promise to make cream cheese omelets or waffles with ice cream if she'll stop being mad. Sar suggests I forsake peaches for a month to atone for whatever it was I did. That is too much to ask. I flip the imp over to apply a swat or 2. The imp giggles. The band played on.
We'll be in Nova Scotia in June, Cape Breton to be exact. There's a time share we've stayed in before – on the water. From there I'm hoping to reserve a room at the Von Trapp lodge in Stowe, Vermont. Then we'll head for home. Sar loves the Von Trapp lodge – a huge buffet at every meal. They stock Twinkies just for her.
Cowboy
Sunday, May 09, 2010
Deaf & Crazy
Cowboy here. Going deaf, going crazy. My wife's singing.
Sar can't sing. Sar can't even hum in key. The upside to her singing is that the imp's happy. The downside is that she's tone deaf when it comes to her own voice. I know she hears her voice while talking but for some reason she doesn't hear it when singing. She can hear other folks sing – not herself.
WE hear her sing. I go in another room, close as many doors between us as I can. The pups can't stand to be away from her so they endure. The Rott makes a groaning sound – nonstop. The Mastiff warbles along – sounds like the animal is in pain, deep pain. The cat gets that startled look, fur on edge, takes for high ground. No close neighbors; if there were any, they'd wonder what those crazy Americans are up to now. Don't want to discourage the singing but it's making me nuts.
Spring has made it to Northern Quebec, still chilly out early morning, also after sunset. Enjoyed a few picnic lunches on the deck, lots of wildlife here. Can hear the fish jump in the lake – probably looking for Sar. The imp throws stale bread in the water from the dock. A stray cat found its way to our log cabin. It's 1 of those orange & white tabby cats – already have 1 of those. An unneutered male. Our cat has taken offense to its presence. Doesn't want another unneutered male in the house. Thinking about that—don't think I want another unneutered male in the house either.
It's a scrawny thing. Correction: It was a scrawny thing; Sar fed it, groomed it, cat-whispered it. Damn critter has no intention of leaving. I informed the imp that the cat's a Canuck – can't take it over the border. The imp made a vet appointment – shots, papers, etc. Posted signs everywhere to let folks know in case it was theirs – nobody took the bait. Might have to take the (now fat) cat back to Washington. Ours is not happy. It's lodged several loud complaints. Sar is sweet talking her way around this. If it goes home it will definitely have surgery to ease the feline tension in the house. In case you're wondering it has several names – Henry (no, I don't know why), Fat George and at the rate it's eating, will also be known as Waddling Willie. No offense intended to any George or Willie reading – not to any Henry for that matter.
Healthwise, my wife's doing well. A brief upper respiratory event. Tried to get cough meds down her throat. She set the Rott on me. That dog has big teeth. Dancing, she got a slight ankle sprain – wrapped it tight – kept dancing. Warmed the imp's tush over that. Broken ankles take a while to heal. She set the Rott on me. Very big teeth.
Won't be heading back to Iceland for a while. Too much turmoil. Been in touch with friends; fortunately, they're ok, lots of damage everywhere. Thinking about Cape Breton in Nova Scotia next month. Friends have a time share there – might see about renting it for a month.
Our young friend Patrick is moving to England. His mom has met someone; wedding next month. The man is U.S. Navy stationed in the UK. Sar is beside herself; Patrick has been a big part of our life since we met the boy. Patrick's bloodhound is going through the medical tests/shots necessary to travel to another country. There's a bit of leeway there; the animal is a service dog. Most countries recognize and accept service dogs. Will take the hound back if it doesn't work out. A lot of Patrick's independence and self-confidence is attributable to that dog. One way or the other, the boy will have a service dog. Don't know that Sar is going to cope well. Having Patrick around has always been a plus for both of us.
Last note for now. Sar is making dolls. Large soft dolls. Anatomically correct dolls. Skimpy clothing. The imp refers to them as slightly politically incorrect. I call them as I see them – gigolos and sluts.
Cowboy
Sar can't sing. Sar can't even hum in key. The upside to her singing is that the imp's happy. The downside is that she's tone deaf when it comes to her own voice. I know she hears her voice while talking but for some reason she doesn't hear it when singing. She can hear other folks sing – not herself.
WE hear her sing. I go in another room, close as many doors between us as I can. The pups can't stand to be away from her so they endure. The Rott makes a groaning sound – nonstop. The Mastiff warbles along – sounds like the animal is in pain, deep pain. The cat gets that startled look, fur on edge, takes for high ground. No close neighbors; if there were any, they'd wonder what those crazy Americans are up to now. Don't want to discourage the singing but it's making me nuts.
Spring has made it to Northern Quebec, still chilly out early morning, also after sunset. Enjoyed a few picnic lunches on the deck, lots of wildlife here. Can hear the fish jump in the lake – probably looking for Sar. The imp throws stale bread in the water from the dock. A stray cat found its way to our log cabin. It's 1 of those orange & white tabby cats – already have 1 of those. An unneutered male. Our cat has taken offense to its presence. Doesn't want another unneutered male in the house. Thinking about that—don't think I want another unneutered male in the house either.
It's a scrawny thing. Correction: It was a scrawny thing; Sar fed it, groomed it, cat-whispered it. Damn critter has no intention of leaving. I informed the imp that the cat's a Canuck – can't take it over the border. The imp made a vet appointment – shots, papers, etc. Posted signs everywhere to let folks know in case it was theirs – nobody took the bait. Might have to take the (now fat) cat back to Washington. Ours is not happy. It's lodged several loud complaints. Sar is sweet talking her way around this. If it goes home it will definitely have surgery to ease the feline tension in the house. In case you're wondering it has several names – Henry (no, I don't know why), Fat George and at the rate it's eating, will also be known as Waddling Willie. No offense intended to any George or Willie reading – not to any Henry for that matter.
Healthwise, my wife's doing well. A brief upper respiratory event. Tried to get cough meds down her throat. She set the Rott on me. That dog has big teeth. Dancing, she got a slight ankle sprain – wrapped it tight – kept dancing. Warmed the imp's tush over that. Broken ankles take a while to heal. She set the Rott on me. Very big teeth.
Won't be heading back to Iceland for a while. Too much turmoil. Been in touch with friends; fortunately, they're ok, lots of damage everywhere. Thinking about Cape Breton in Nova Scotia next month. Friends have a time share there – might see about renting it for a month.
Our young friend Patrick is moving to England. His mom has met someone; wedding next month. The man is U.S. Navy stationed in the UK. Sar is beside herself; Patrick has been a big part of our life since we met the boy. Patrick's bloodhound is going through the medical tests/shots necessary to travel to another country. There's a bit of leeway there; the animal is a service dog. Most countries recognize and accept service dogs. Will take the hound back if it doesn't work out. A lot of Patrick's independence and self-confidence is attributable to that dog. One way or the other, the boy will have a service dog. Don't know that Sar is going to cope well. Having Patrick around has always been a plus for both of us.
Last note for now. Sar is making dolls. Large soft dolls. Anatomically correct dolls. Skimpy clothing. The imp refers to them as slightly politically incorrect. I call them as I see them – gigolos and sluts.
Cowboy
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Update
Cowboy here. Things have calmed down a bit since I posted here last. Company has left; the house is ours again. It's good to have the imp to myself for a change. Holiday meals were outstanding of course; my wife's a great cook. Sar + her dear friend Alli ate more than their share of chocolate, jelly beans, countless other sweets. When they were high on sugar the house fairly rocked. When they came down they slept soundly giving Paul, Allie's husband and I a break. Even the animals in the house seemed to be relieved. Just imagine the havoc those 2 created as kids.
We flew to DC and back, a much needed medical checkup for the imp - recovery from various health issues is encouraging. Medics are pleased, more so I think because my wife didn't seriously injure any of them this time around. One young doc that tried to touch her without permission ended up with a broken thumb. Another got a bruised knee – Sar's an experienced kick-boxer. All in all, a decent record. The "patient from hell" has been known to break bones, leave black eyes, nose bleeds, etc. Should be a lesson to medics everywhere: don't touch unless asking first; don't assume patient is a moron or impressed that you have a medical degree. Sar has several degrees of her own – all impressive.
We stayed in David's condo, close to Bethesda. Sar brought several Boston cream pies for the man, his favorite dessert. In return, he gave my wife a couple of "Calvin & Hobbs" books. The man has a mean sense of humor. Just what I needed – more inspiration for the imp's creativity. Going through them, she giggled all the way back to Quebec. My hands itched at the thought of the mischief she'll be into in no time.
Speaking of pie, for those interested cooks/bakers, Sar put the recipe link back – off to the right side of the blog. The kitchen smells good; Sar's feeling better, cooking more. The best news is that she's creating fiber art again – a sure sign of good health – it's been a hard year, a few challenges; things are better now. When Sar works at her craft, she hums – all the critters relax when that happens. When my wife's happy—that's about all that matters in my world.
Before we head back to Washington, we'll probably take a side trip to Iceland again – numerous friends there. Also want to get back to Cape Breton in Nova Scotia. Happy memories there – the summer is mostly pleasant. Snowed in June one year we were there. Hoping it will be balmy this time around. Plans aren't solidified yet. I remember a "canoe" incident when we were there – Sar stood in the canoe. I told her to sit. She didn't. Got spanked right there on the water. Had to eat out for a month. The imp's got a temper and a half. Good thing she loves me – could have been eating out for a year.
Cowboy
We flew to DC and back, a much needed medical checkup for the imp - recovery from various health issues is encouraging. Medics are pleased, more so I think because my wife didn't seriously injure any of them this time around. One young doc that tried to touch her without permission ended up with a broken thumb. Another got a bruised knee – Sar's an experienced kick-boxer. All in all, a decent record. The "patient from hell" has been known to break bones, leave black eyes, nose bleeds, etc. Should be a lesson to medics everywhere: don't touch unless asking first; don't assume patient is a moron or impressed that you have a medical degree. Sar has several degrees of her own – all impressive.
We stayed in David's condo, close to Bethesda. Sar brought several Boston cream pies for the man, his favorite dessert. In return, he gave my wife a couple of "Calvin & Hobbs" books. The man has a mean sense of humor. Just what I needed – more inspiration for the imp's creativity. Going through them, she giggled all the way back to Quebec. My hands itched at the thought of the mischief she'll be into in no time.
Speaking of pie, for those interested cooks/bakers, Sar put the recipe link back – off to the right side of the blog. The kitchen smells good; Sar's feeling better, cooking more. The best news is that she's creating fiber art again – a sure sign of good health – it's been a hard year, a few challenges; things are better now. When Sar works at her craft, she hums – all the critters relax when that happens. When my wife's happy—that's about all that matters in my world.
Before we head back to Washington, we'll probably take a side trip to Iceland again – numerous friends there. Also want to get back to Cape Breton in Nova Scotia. Happy memories there – the summer is mostly pleasant. Snowed in June one year we were there. Hoping it will be balmy this time around. Plans aren't solidified yet. I remember a "canoe" incident when we were there – Sar stood in the canoe. I told her to sit. She didn't. Got spanked right there on the water. Had to eat out for a month. The imp's got a temper and a half. Good thing she loves me – could have been eating out for a year.
Cowboy
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Sar-isms
Cowboy here. I have been kicked out of the kitchen. Spring holiday cooking/baking is in full swing. Periodically I get to taste test whatever's coming out of the oven or off the stove. I hear lots of giggles, see 2 little gals, chocolate smears on their faces. Sar's baked dozens of her famous black & white cookies. I get the feeling they're being consumed in great quantities. David is due back here in a couple days; Bull will be arriving mid week. Bull's mother might be flying in as well. Allie's husband Paul due end of the week. My wife loves to feed a full house during the holidays. Expecting a few other folks as well - 1 is the nephew of the local parish priest - the boy will ask the 4 Passover questions. Don't know all the Passover/Easter plans. Positive my wife has a few surprises. Hoping none of them include a jelly bean eating contest.
Alli's company has been good for Sar. Both are inspired to make life interesting. Snow has melted a bit; snow creatures are dissolving; morphing into "dying" aliens draped across the driveway, the front steps, leaning over the porch railing, beside the front door. Amazed no one has complained about the melting horror show. Canadians are very polite people.
Sar-ism: Small local dog show here recently. A bunch of poodles were featured on TV. Alli wanted to know why the animals were groomed in those pom pom coats – on legs, etc. Sar said they look that way because they're members of a weird religious cult. Peach pie in the oven - I refrained from commenting.
Sar-ism: Alli was matron of honor at our wedding many years ago. The other day she asked why we were married on a Tuesday. Sar's reply: Couldn't get married on a Saturday. Alli: Why not? Sar: Cowboy likes to watch cartoons on Saturday. I got out of my chair, walked across the room and gave my wife a much deserved swat.
Alli's cat Hissy Fit slipped out of the house, scaled a tree, our dogs barking at the bottom encouraging the feline to stay there. Sar climbed the tree after the wayward cat. I climbed up after my wayward wife. RCMP showed up after Allie called for help. Mounties laughed – one said he wasn't sure they could use Canadian resources to save an American cat. Sar yelled if he didn't, it wouldn't look good for international relations, mentioned there were warm brownies in the oven. Knowing my wife's penchant for serving "special" brownies to those who cross her, I suggested they refuse the brownies, eat the black & white cookies instead. Cat jumped down by itself. Mounties were saved embarrassment of gastrointestinal distress. U.S./Canadian relations salvaged.
Tree climbing adventure wore the imp out. She had to lie down for a while. Our big male cat stretched out next to her, the dogs on the floor by her side – no room for me. Amid much animal grumbling I was able to lift Sar out of our bed. The critters followed me out of our room. When they were on the other side of the door, I slipped back in, closed the door and the imp was mine. Whining, hissing went on for a bit. Such is my life. Sar in my arms; peach cobbler for dessert. Life's pretty good.
Cowboy
P.S. "Someone" has consumed a great many chocolate bunny ears. I'm starting to believe earless rabbits are a species unto themselves.
Alli's company has been good for Sar. Both are inspired to make life interesting. Snow has melted a bit; snow creatures are dissolving; morphing into "dying" aliens draped across the driveway, the front steps, leaning over the porch railing, beside the front door. Amazed no one has complained about the melting horror show. Canadians are very polite people.
Sar-ism: Small local dog show here recently. A bunch of poodles were featured on TV. Alli wanted to know why the animals were groomed in those pom pom coats – on legs, etc. Sar said they look that way because they're members of a weird religious cult. Peach pie in the oven - I refrained from commenting.
Sar-ism: Alli was matron of honor at our wedding many years ago. The other day she asked why we were married on a Tuesday. Sar's reply: Couldn't get married on a Saturday. Alli: Why not? Sar: Cowboy likes to watch cartoons on Saturday. I got out of my chair, walked across the room and gave my wife a much deserved swat.
Alli's cat Hissy Fit slipped out of the house, scaled a tree, our dogs barking at the bottom encouraging the feline to stay there. Sar climbed the tree after the wayward cat. I climbed up after my wayward wife. RCMP showed up after Allie called for help. Mounties laughed – one said he wasn't sure they could use Canadian resources to save an American cat. Sar yelled if he didn't, it wouldn't look good for international relations, mentioned there were warm brownies in the oven. Knowing my wife's penchant for serving "special" brownies to those who cross her, I suggested they refuse the brownies, eat the black & white cookies instead. Cat jumped down by itself. Mounties were saved embarrassment of gastrointestinal distress. U.S./Canadian relations salvaged.
Tree climbing adventure wore the imp out. She had to lie down for a while. Our big male cat stretched out next to her, the dogs on the floor by her side – no room for me. Amid much animal grumbling I was able to lift Sar out of our bed. The critters followed me out of our room. When they were on the other side of the door, I slipped back in, closed the door and the imp was mine. Whining, hissing went on for a bit. Such is my life. Sar in my arms; peach cobbler for dessert. Life's pretty good.
Cowboy
P.S. "Someone" has consumed a great many chocolate bunny ears. I'm starting to believe earless rabbits are a species unto themselves.
Saturday, March 06, 2010
Ups & Downs
Cowboy here. Taking a breather. We have overnight company, the house is full. David is here. He brought his latest lady friend – his former housekeeper – they've been seeing each other socially since her husband died a couple years ago. Sar's oldest friend Alli and her husband, Paul are here. They brought their cat along, a creature that makes grizzly bears seem tame in comparison. Sar says our Rotts fantasize about throwing that animal in the commode, dropping the lid, sitting on it until the cat is flushed. The cat is a Maine Coon by the name of Hissy Fit – very appropriate. Naturally, the creature adores my wife.
Sar is cooking, baking, dancing. Alli's presence ensures plenty of mischief – never know what or when it's going to show itself. The two women - their heads together scare the hell out of me. As children, both survived some of Chicago's meanest streets. I imagine the tough guys in those days were grateful to have survived a Sar/Alli confrontation.
We have an entire village of snow people/animals in the yard. Apparently, Alli is as adept as Sar at sculpting forms that have a XXX rating. Educational as well. It seems dinosaurs had scales on their genitalia – breeding must have hurt like hell, might be why they became extinct.
Dinosaurs: There was a small article on the Yahoo home page the other day about why they became extinct.
Sar says to me: "What killed the dinosaurs?"
Me: "Twinkies."
She ordered pizza for supper. I had been looking forward to chicken and dumplings, peach cobbler for dessert. David wanted Boston Cream pie. He took revenge – used a butcher knife to behead the snow creatures in the yard. This only inspired Sar & Alli to reposition the heads in the crooks of snow arms, adhered to bellies, turned into basketballs – all facial characteristics included –in general, turning the mess into a horror show. I tell myself they're doing things they missed as children. David says we're aiding and abetting. I notice that Alli's husband takes it all in stride – they have 4 boys. Maybe it's a case of been there/done that.
I had a little discussion with my wife when we were in bed. A couple of swats later I succumbed to her attentive wiles, remembered again why I love her so much. She keeps me young, always interested.
Ups & downs: Sar's energy is back; she needs to rest periodically but health-wise, things are looking better. Appetite comes and goes; when she's eating well, I find excuses to give her more chocolate or a few specialty treats she loves – imported chocolate, ice cream, pears, black jelly beans, Boston baked beans – this is a candy, not a bean, also a number of other items I have to order online.
Speaking of treats, Passover and Easter fall in the same week this year, starting end of this month. David will fly to DC, return for the holiday week. Alli will likely stay here through the holiday; Paul will return to Chicago, he has a company to run, return later. Not sure who else will be here. Bull should be back from a deployment in time to share his leave with us; not sure we'll have enough food to satisfy him. Doubt there's that much food in all of Quebec.
Got a few emails about Sar's diet, suggestions for a healthier life style. Just want to say we've been there many a time. For months at a time the imp has adhered to a diet of proteins, whole grains, fruits, raw vegetables – except for a couple, Sar won't eat cooked vegetables. She cut out all the favorite foods – Twinkies, fast food, Cracker Jack, etc. When her weight dropped to the low 90's, the medics recommended a return to her regular diet. She needs to carbo load regularly. Appreciate your concern, appreciate your suggestions. Everybody's body chemistry differs; Sar's doing what's best for her. I continue to despair at how much crap she eats but as long as she's eating enough real food, I'm not complaining too loud.
David noticed there's a tall tree on the property that might be climbable. I might have to cut it down before Sar decides to scale it in her mukluks.
Cowboy
Sar is cooking, baking, dancing. Alli's presence ensures plenty of mischief – never know what or when it's going to show itself. The two women - their heads together scare the hell out of me. As children, both survived some of Chicago's meanest streets. I imagine the tough guys in those days were grateful to have survived a Sar/Alli confrontation.
We have an entire village of snow people/animals in the yard. Apparently, Alli is as adept as Sar at sculpting forms that have a XXX rating. Educational as well. It seems dinosaurs had scales on their genitalia – breeding must have hurt like hell, might be why they became extinct.
Dinosaurs: There was a small article on the Yahoo home page the other day about why they became extinct.
Sar says to me: "What killed the dinosaurs?"
Me: "Twinkies."
She ordered pizza for supper. I had been looking forward to chicken and dumplings, peach cobbler for dessert. David wanted Boston Cream pie. He took revenge – used a butcher knife to behead the snow creatures in the yard. This only inspired Sar & Alli to reposition the heads in the crooks of snow arms, adhered to bellies, turned into basketballs – all facial characteristics included –in general, turning the mess into a horror show. I tell myself they're doing things they missed as children. David says we're aiding and abetting. I notice that Alli's husband takes it all in stride – they have 4 boys. Maybe it's a case of been there/done that.
I had a little discussion with my wife when we were in bed. A couple of swats later I succumbed to her attentive wiles, remembered again why I love her so much. She keeps me young, always interested.
Ups & downs: Sar's energy is back; she needs to rest periodically but health-wise, things are looking better. Appetite comes and goes; when she's eating well, I find excuses to give her more chocolate or a few specialty treats she loves – imported chocolate, ice cream, pears, black jelly beans, Boston baked beans – this is a candy, not a bean, also a number of other items I have to order online.
Speaking of treats, Passover and Easter fall in the same week this year, starting end of this month. David will fly to DC, return for the holiday week. Alli will likely stay here through the holiday; Paul will return to Chicago, he has a company to run, return later. Not sure who else will be here. Bull should be back from a deployment in time to share his leave with us; not sure we'll have enough food to satisfy him. Doubt there's that much food in all of Quebec.
Got a few emails about Sar's diet, suggestions for a healthier life style. Just want to say we've been there many a time. For months at a time the imp has adhered to a diet of proteins, whole grains, fruits, raw vegetables – except for a couple, Sar won't eat cooked vegetables. She cut out all the favorite foods – Twinkies, fast food, Cracker Jack, etc. When her weight dropped to the low 90's, the medics recommended a return to her regular diet. She needs to carbo load regularly. Appreciate your concern, appreciate your suggestions. Everybody's body chemistry differs; Sar's doing what's best for her. I continue to despair at how much crap she eats but as long as she's eating enough real food, I'm not complaining too loud.
David noticed there's a tall tree on the property that might be climbable. I might have to cut it down before Sar decides to scale it in her mukluks.
Cowboy
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Normalcy - Almost
Cowboy here. Life is getting back to normal. Sar is almost back to her old self – the naughty imp I married shows herself more every day. Makes me glad. My right arm swings automatically now; don't have to restrain myself like I did when she was barely out of bed on her own steam. Staying in northern Quebec in our honeymoon house has been good for both of us.
Normal Sar signs: Mia bambina generally eats a big breakfast – pancakes or an omelet, sometimes hot cereal. For a few months it was a battle to get her to eat more than a piece of toast. This morning the imp had a bowl of cold cereal, another one, part of a third and the milkshake she drinks every morning. Sar's high metabolic rate demands an intake of something solid about every 2 hours. If she doesn't sleep through the night, there's a middle of the night snack – half a dozen twinkies, half a pie or some other junk. Fruit, a sandwich maybe but I don't complain, happy to have her eat anything at this point. Doesn't mean I won't deliver a swat anyway.
Sneaking out of the house when she thinks I'm not paying attention. That's my girl. Building snow creatures that defy family values. Giggling when she gets back in the house, pleased with her handiwork. I admit I love that giggle. My wife's dancing more, taking the stairs 2 at a time, sliding down the banister regularly. That always gets that cute bottom pinked when I catch her. Thank the good Lord, there's more cooking and baking going on.
Update: It seems I spoke too soon. Wrote the above a few days ago. Heard the Rott barking wildly a couple days ago. Rotts rarely bark; ours never bark unless they suspect danger. I ran up the stairs, met the Mastiff coming down to get me, also barking. Sar was on the floor semi-conscious, heart racing and in great pain. A lot of intestinal distress - all the accompanying symptoms. Got a floatplane pilot to fly us to an ER in Montreal. From x-rays, some other tests, the medic suspected abdominal flu – exaggerated by Sar's intestinal tract – scar tissue, etc. The first 24 hours were nerve wracking, Sar hurling, in pain, unable to sleep much, up every couple of hours to take meds of 1 kind or another. Fever finally abated, stomach calmed down, etc. It took another day to get some food in her that stayed down.
We got home – back to the log cabin – mid morning. Sar's in bed asleep, exhausted but feeling better. I accused her of getting sick in order to avoid the hot tush she's due for a variety of reasons. I got that innocent look. The dogs are in the bedroom. I look in regularly, spot 1 or the other leaning on the bed to stare at her. The cat sleeps at the top of the pillow, hisses or spits as I enter the room - an attack cat guarding my wife. I think we're in the clear here; the flu was unexpected but luckily short-lived. I'll make linguini with butter and cheese for supper. She'll eat that, demand chocolate. Sar making demands means she's feeling better.
We're staying here for a while yet. It's recuperative for both of us. The past year has been a bit of a hassle but it's behind us. Our friend David will fly in shortly. A couple other friends may also join us. There's plenty of room. Sar will be beside herself cooking, baking – once she's up and I think she's feeling well enough to entertain.
Last, February was a good month for both of us, a lot of sweet moments.
Cowboy
Normal Sar signs: Mia bambina generally eats a big breakfast – pancakes or an omelet, sometimes hot cereal. For a few months it was a battle to get her to eat more than a piece of toast. This morning the imp had a bowl of cold cereal, another one, part of a third and the milkshake she drinks every morning. Sar's high metabolic rate demands an intake of something solid about every 2 hours. If she doesn't sleep through the night, there's a middle of the night snack – half a dozen twinkies, half a pie or some other junk. Fruit, a sandwich maybe but I don't complain, happy to have her eat anything at this point. Doesn't mean I won't deliver a swat anyway.
Sneaking out of the house when she thinks I'm not paying attention. That's my girl. Building snow creatures that defy family values. Giggling when she gets back in the house, pleased with her handiwork. I admit I love that giggle. My wife's dancing more, taking the stairs 2 at a time, sliding down the banister regularly. That always gets that cute bottom pinked when I catch her. Thank the good Lord, there's more cooking and baking going on.
Update: It seems I spoke too soon. Wrote the above a few days ago. Heard the Rott barking wildly a couple days ago. Rotts rarely bark; ours never bark unless they suspect danger. I ran up the stairs, met the Mastiff coming down to get me, also barking. Sar was on the floor semi-conscious, heart racing and in great pain. A lot of intestinal distress - all the accompanying symptoms. Got a floatplane pilot to fly us to an ER in Montreal. From x-rays, some other tests, the medic suspected abdominal flu – exaggerated by Sar's intestinal tract – scar tissue, etc. The first 24 hours were nerve wracking, Sar hurling, in pain, unable to sleep much, up every couple of hours to take meds of 1 kind or another. Fever finally abated, stomach calmed down, etc. It took another day to get some food in her that stayed down.
We got home – back to the log cabin – mid morning. Sar's in bed asleep, exhausted but feeling better. I accused her of getting sick in order to avoid the hot tush she's due for a variety of reasons. I got that innocent look. The dogs are in the bedroom. I look in regularly, spot 1 or the other leaning on the bed to stare at her. The cat sleeps at the top of the pillow, hisses or spits as I enter the room - an attack cat guarding my wife. I think we're in the clear here; the flu was unexpected but luckily short-lived. I'll make linguini with butter and cheese for supper. She'll eat that, demand chocolate. Sar making demands means she's feeling better.
We're staying here for a while yet. It's recuperative for both of us. The past year has been a bit of a hassle but it's behind us. Our friend David will fly in shortly. A couple other friends may also join us. There's plenty of room. Sar will be beside herself cooking, baking – once she's up and I think she's feeling well enough to entertain.
Last, February was a good month for both of us, a lot of sweet moments.
Cowboy
Monday, February 15, 2010
February-ing
We're half way through February and let me just say it's been STUPENDOUS!
His Holiness has been most creative: chocolates (imported), lovin', chocolates, sweet spankings, more lovin', more sweet spankings, lots more chocolate. I've gained a couple of pounds; Cowboy has lost a few… We both need to take regular naps.
Valentine's Day was a biggie. I wore my annual heart-shaped bustier, red high heels and sweet smile. Cowboy never seems to tire of that particular outfit. Naturally I made him work for it. He chased me up the stairs to the 2nd floor, got shoved aside by the pups who always enjoy a game of chase and catch and when he got too close too soon, I threw my high heels at him. I escaped his huge Popeye arm reach when he ducked my shoes, sic-ed the pups on him and made it to the bedroom where I jumped in the closet.
When he finally got to the bedroom and demanded to know where I was as if there were so many hiding places he couldn't find me… tsk
I jumped out of the closet wearing his cowboy hat and my birthday suit.
The man practically beamed.
Naughty stuff ensued. I bet that was a big surprise, huh?
We've gone through a couple of buckets of chocolate paint. Painting our birthday suits in February is another annual tradition although sometimes the giant squid surprises me with his painting skills in other months. And as old as he is, he can still do pushups with me sitting on his back. I might note that he does seem to lose his concentration and sometimes his balance when I scoot under him in the middle of a pushup. It helps that my birthday suit doesn't wear out…
We've eaten lots of pasta – carbo loading for all the physical stuff that happens. We've eaten peachy things in a variety of recipes and we've watched some naughty movies that we rented on pay TV. I think the naughty movies are so-so but they give us ideas…
We lock the critters in another room when we want to use the living room as the place to anoint with our lovin' games. Some things simply don't need an audience. Cold noses and curious (and staring) cats can deflate our activities.
I broke down and shared some chocolate/raspberry mousse, chocolate/espresso pudding and other chocolate delicacies. It's one of the few times during the year I don't hog the good stuff. Naturally I expect sweet rewards for my generosity. Cowboy is equally generous; he always surprises me with sweet momentos of the holiday.
Snow and ice persist. I've managed to create a few more snow people but the constant high winds are a little unsettling. The winds howl, the fireplace crackles, the animals pace a little. I hide under the covers or under my husband's arm. We had a brief lightning storm. I was ready to sleep in the closet but the pups crowded in with me and didn't leave any room for a giant squid. Needless to say… he pulled me out of the closet, landed a swat on my teeny tiny backside and announced we were sleeping in our bed.
Tsk! Wasn't me who took up all the space in the closet.
Two more weeks of February to enjoy. I'm loving it. Thinking up new and naughty ways to tease my husband – he's still able to chase me down even though he's now soooo old, he can't remember exactly how old he is.
SWAT!
Tsk!
~Sar~
His Holiness has been most creative: chocolates (imported), lovin', chocolates, sweet spankings, more lovin', more sweet spankings, lots more chocolate. I've gained a couple of pounds; Cowboy has lost a few… We both need to take regular naps.
Valentine's Day was a biggie. I wore my annual heart-shaped bustier, red high heels and sweet smile. Cowboy never seems to tire of that particular outfit. Naturally I made him work for it. He chased me up the stairs to the 2nd floor, got shoved aside by the pups who always enjoy a game of chase and catch and when he got too close too soon, I threw my high heels at him. I escaped his huge Popeye arm reach when he ducked my shoes, sic-ed the pups on him and made it to the bedroom where I jumped in the closet.
When he finally got to the bedroom and demanded to know where I was as if there were so many hiding places he couldn't find me… tsk
I jumped out of the closet wearing his cowboy hat and my birthday suit.
The man practically beamed.
Naughty stuff ensued. I bet that was a big surprise, huh?
We've gone through a couple of buckets of chocolate paint. Painting our birthday suits in February is another annual tradition although sometimes the giant squid surprises me with his painting skills in other months. And as old as he is, he can still do pushups with me sitting on his back. I might note that he does seem to lose his concentration and sometimes his balance when I scoot under him in the middle of a pushup. It helps that my birthday suit doesn't wear out…
We've eaten lots of pasta – carbo loading for all the physical stuff that happens. We've eaten peachy things in a variety of recipes and we've watched some naughty movies that we rented on pay TV. I think the naughty movies are so-so but they give us ideas…
We lock the critters in another room when we want to use the living room as the place to anoint with our lovin' games. Some things simply don't need an audience. Cold noses and curious (and staring) cats can deflate our activities.
I broke down and shared some chocolate/raspberry mousse, chocolate/espresso pudding and other chocolate delicacies. It's one of the few times during the year I don't hog the good stuff. Naturally I expect sweet rewards for my generosity. Cowboy is equally generous; he always surprises me with sweet momentos of the holiday.
Snow and ice persist. I've managed to create a few more snow people but the constant high winds are a little unsettling. The winds howl, the fireplace crackles, the animals pace a little. I hide under the covers or under my husband's arm. We had a brief lightning storm. I was ready to sleep in the closet but the pups crowded in with me and didn't leave any room for a giant squid. Needless to say… he pulled me out of the closet, landed a swat on my teeny tiny backside and announced we were sleeping in our bed.
Tsk! Wasn't me who took up all the space in the closet.
Two more weeks of February to enjoy. I'm loving it. Thinking up new and naughty ways to tease my husband – he's still able to chase me down even though he's now soooo old, he can't remember exactly how old he is.
SWAT!
Tsk!
~Sar~
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
No good deed...
goes unpunished…
Flipping through the Yahoo news pages on the laptop yesterday and came across an article about GIANT SQUIDS! Apparently hoards of them are congregating in California waters. The article says that squids normally weigh in around 40 lbs. These are 60-100 lbs! (I'll bet they're from Italian waters… all that pasta you know.)
So I casually mentioned it to MY giant squid.
"A bunch of your relatives showed up in California and are swimming around making headlines. Did you know about the family reunion? How come we weren't invited?"
"I don't have any relatives in California. Wait! Are you talking about the squids?"
"Well of course I'm talking about the squids."
SWAT!
Tsk.
When the swimming squids get irritated, they squirt ink. When my squid gets irritated, he swats! (Definitely, they're related.)
Since His Holiness didn't show the same enthusiasm for the giant squid anecdote that I did, I decided I wouldn't bother to mention that I also read that Polish scientists found the remains of three Neanderthals…
We got that big weather system that moved up the U.S. east coast. More snow, some ice, freezing weather.
Cowboy made noises about my being out in the weather – pneumonia, bronchitis, snow angels and other blathering that didn't make sense. So when he said he had to drive into town to get supplies…
I had 2-3 hours at the most. I bundled up in several fleecy layers and dashed into the backyard with the dogs. (They had their sweaters on.) Snow was packed and up to my calves in places. It took a little effort but I got the first large round snow ball to make the bottom of a snow person. It was soooo big and round I reshaped it to make it an expectant mama… the top wasn't quite as big but suddenly was a little taller than I could handle. I added arms with hands placed over her bulging tummy and put her head in the crook of her elbow… Added a beret to the head, beets for her eyes and peas for her mouth. (If I was expecting triplets I'd cut off my head, too.)
Unfortunately, BullyBoy peed on her leg.
The 2nd snow person was harder to make. I leaned a skinny layer of snow against a tree – was just shaping the body when I thought I heard a car. Decided to stop there and get back in the house before His Holiness returned. Got a huge laugh when I got to the back porch. From that vantage point, the snow person I was in the process of making was BEHIND the tree. All you could see was a HUGE breast peeking from the tree trunk. I ran back and put a beet on it dead center.
The pups and I were lounging in front of the fire – dry and warm – when Cowboy showed up about 30 minutes later.
I smiled, looking up from the book in my lap.
He gave me a big hug and kiss and said he bought Dove ice cream bars along with the groceries. Yum!
"Pasta for supper," he added. "Along with a spanking."
"What?" Ohhhh, not good. Not good at all.
"Either snow elves came for a visit while I was gone or you went out in this weather and built a couple of snow people. Which was it?"
Crumb! "Uhhh… I'm sure snow elves must have visited while the pups and I were napping," I said with fingers crossed, the pups snoring away and not volunteering information.
"Uh-huh," my husband agreed, tucking me under his arm and delivering a not-so-gentle swat.
Tsk.
I'll have to put off the snow fort and other snow creatures until he goes into town again. Fortunately (or unfortunately) the snow will be around for a while.
I bet if they tested Cowboy's DNA with the DNA of the Neanderthals' remains...
~Sar~
Flipping through the Yahoo news pages on the laptop yesterday and came across an article about GIANT SQUIDS! Apparently hoards of them are congregating in California waters. The article says that squids normally weigh in around 40 lbs. These are 60-100 lbs! (I'll bet they're from Italian waters… all that pasta you know.)
So I casually mentioned it to MY giant squid.
"A bunch of your relatives showed up in California and are swimming around making headlines. Did you know about the family reunion? How come we weren't invited?"
"I don't have any relatives in California. Wait! Are you talking about the squids?"
"Well of course I'm talking about the squids."
SWAT!
Tsk.
When the swimming squids get irritated, they squirt ink. When my squid gets irritated, he swats! (Definitely, they're related.)
Since His Holiness didn't show the same enthusiasm for the giant squid anecdote that I did, I decided I wouldn't bother to mention that I also read that Polish scientists found the remains of three Neanderthals…
We got that big weather system that moved up the U.S. east coast. More snow, some ice, freezing weather.
Cowboy made noises about my being out in the weather – pneumonia, bronchitis, snow angels and other blathering that didn't make sense. So when he said he had to drive into town to get supplies…
I had 2-3 hours at the most. I bundled up in several fleecy layers and dashed into the backyard with the dogs. (They had their sweaters on.) Snow was packed and up to my calves in places. It took a little effort but I got the first large round snow ball to make the bottom of a snow person. It was soooo big and round I reshaped it to make it an expectant mama… the top wasn't quite as big but suddenly was a little taller than I could handle. I added arms with hands placed over her bulging tummy and put her head in the crook of her elbow… Added a beret to the head, beets for her eyes and peas for her mouth. (If I was expecting triplets I'd cut off my head, too.)
Unfortunately, BullyBoy peed on her leg.
The 2nd snow person was harder to make. I leaned a skinny layer of snow against a tree – was just shaping the body when I thought I heard a car. Decided to stop there and get back in the house before His Holiness returned. Got a huge laugh when I got to the back porch. From that vantage point, the snow person I was in the process of making was BEHIND the tree. All you could see was a HUGE breast peeking from the tree trunk. I ran back and put a beet on it dead center.
The pups and I were lounging in front of the fire – dry and warm – when Cowboy showed up about 30 minutes later.
I smiled, looking up from the book in my lap.
He gave me a big hug and kiss and said he bought Dove ice cream bars along with the groceries. Yum!
"Pasta for supper," he added. "Along with a spanking."
"What?" Ohhhh, not good. Not good at all.
"Either snow elves came for a visit while I was gone or you went out in this weather and built a couple of snow people. Which was it?"
Crumb! "Uhhh… I'm sure snow elves must have visited while the pups and I were napping," I said with fingers crossed, the pups snoring away and not volunteering information.
"Uh-huh," my husband agreed, tucking me under his arm and delivering a not-so-gentle swat.
Tsk.
I'll have to put off the snow fort and other snow creatures until he goes into town again. Fortunately (or unfortunately) the snow will be around for a while.
I bet if they tested Cowboy's DNA with the DNA of the Neanderthals' remains...
~Sar~
Friday, January 29, 2010
Late to the Party
Okey dokey, so I'm a little bit old-fashioned. Make that really old-fashioned. In the last few months I've been invited to share every detail of my life on facebook, twitter, flikr, yahoo updates, yahoo messenger, yahoo something else, aol, msn and a whole bunch of other sites I didn't even know existed. Some of these sites also have "activities & events" in which it would be *fun* to participate. Great.
People… I rarely get to my email on a regular basis. Friends have learned that it might take days for me to reply. It's not that I don't want to reply or that I lack basic manners, it's just that my life outside of the computer is busy, often chaotic and has its own demands. (Giant Neanderthal squids make many demands; it's in their DNA.)
If I participated in the many websites listed above and a whole bunch I've already forgotten, there wouldn't be anything to share. My life would be lost in cyberspace. (Not to mention what the giant squid would have to say about my spending time on the computer and not with him.)
"I think I'll start twittering and joining in on some of those websites where everyone communicates with everyone else on a regular (sometimes hourly) basis." I casually mentioned the other day, greasing the slide I was bound to slip down.
"No problem, bambina. You go right ahead and do that and spend every night over my lap – face down, butt up – that'll work for me," His Holiness remarked, flexing his biceps.
His Holiness has Popeye biceps despite the absence of spinach in our lives. I wonder if it's those other green uglies he eats…
"Would you like a sample?" he added.
I'm sure I've mentioned that the man was born without couth. Must be his Neanderthal ancestry.
Back to the subject of email. Between email and this occasional blog I'm pretty much occupied on the Internet. There are a few websites I visit regularly but I only participate minimally on them – the Navy wives site, a few fiber arts sites, a story site I used to chat in but now the chat group doesn't show up until way past my bedtime so I don't get to chat with them much. I don't even have time to visit my own links. Is that pathetic or what?
Meanwhile…
There's another big weather system moving up the U.S. east coast. We'll probably get some of it up here in the Quebec boonies. Not that there isn't plenty of snow and ice still blanketing us… I've been warned (repeatedly yawn) that snow angels are not on my agenda. The snow drifts are probably deeper than the depth of my body in a horizontal position so I'll heed that warning.
However… nobody has mentioned snow people. Anatomically correct snow people have never graced the area around the log cabin we're staying in. I wouldn't want to show favoritism to U.S. America… Canada is, after all, in North America… I have some nifty wool scarves, a few chic hats, gloves and bikinis I could add to the snow people to make them "R" rated instead of "OH MY GOD!" rated. (Pausing here to ponder why there are bikinis in my luggage? It's winter here! Hmmm…)
Snow people are a form of art. You've seen ice sculptures… snow people are made of packed snow – a variation on ice crystals… - sort of. I shall contribute art to the Quebec countryside.
"You'd better not be thinking of building snow creatures, Sar."
The man is a mind reader!
"Not going to do that, dear."
I'm planning an entire snow VILLAGE with a snow FORT and lots of snow BALLS as ammunition. This will also be a charitable event. I shall donate all the carrots, celery stalks, and other green uglies. I'm so generous I can't stand it.
"I'm going into town for supplies. Behave yourself while I'm gone. Take a nap; you need to rest a little."
"How long will you be gone?" An innocent question…
"Two-three hours at the most."
Smiling… I love new projects.
~Sar~
People… I rarely get to my email on a regular basis. Friends have learned that it might take days for me to reply. It's not that I don't want to reply or that I lack basic manners, it's just that my life outside of the computer is busy, often chaotic and has its own demands. (Giant Neanderthal squids make many demands; it's in their DNA.)
If I participated in the many websites listed above and a whole bunch I've already forgotten, there wouldn't be anything to share. My life would be lost in cyberspace. (Not to mention what the giant squid would have to say about my spending time on the computer and not with him.)
"I think I'll start twittering and joining in on some of those websites where everyone communicates with everyone else on a regular (sometimes hourly) basis." I casually mentioned the other day, greasing the slide I was bound to slip down.
"No problem, bambina. You go right ahead and do that and spend every night over my lap – face down, butt up – that'll work for me," His Holiness remarked, flexing his biceps.
His Holiness has Popeye biceps despite the absence of spinach in our lives. I wonder if it's those other green uglies he eats…
"Would you like a sample?" he added.
I'm sure I've mentioned that the man was born without couth. Must be his Neanderthal ancestry.
Back to the subject of email. Between email and this occasional blog I'm pretty much occupied on the Internet. There are a few websites I visit regularly but I only participate minimally on them – the Navy wives site, a few fiber arts sites, a story site I used to chat in but now the chat group doesn't show up until way past my bedtime so I don't get to chat with them much. I don't even have time to visit my own links. Is that pathetic or what?
Meanwhile…
There's another big weather system moving up the U.S. east coast. We'll probably get some of it up here in the Quebec boonies. Not that there isn't plenty of snow and ice still blanketing us… I've been warned (repeatedly yawn) that snow angels are not on my agenda. The snow drifts are probably deeper than the depth of my body in a horizontal position so I'll heed that warning.
However… nobody has mentioned snow people. Anatomically correct snow people have never graced the area around the log cabin we're staying in. I wouldn't want to show favoritism to U.S. America… Canada is, after all, in North America… I have some nifty wool scarves, a few chic hats, gloves and bikinis I could add to the snow people to make them "R" rated instead of "OH MY GOD!" rated. (Pausing here to ponder why there are bikinis in my luggage? It's winter here! Hmmm…)
Snow people are a form of art. You've seen ice sculptures… snow people are made of packed snow – a variation on ice crystals… - sort of. I shall contribute art to the Quebec countryside.
"You'd better not be thinking of building snow creatures, Sar."
The man is a mind reader!
"Not going to do that, dear."
I'm planning an entire snow VILLAGE with a snow FORT and lots of snow BALLS as ammunition. This will also be a charitable event. I shall donate all the carrots, celery stalks, and other green uglies. I'm so generous I can't stand it.
"I'm going into town for supplies. Behave yourself while I'm gone. Take a nap; you need to rest a little."
"How long will you be gone?" An innocent question…
"Two-three hours at the most."
Smiling… I love new projects.
~Sar~
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Weather & a Wuss
Snow, ice pellets, freezing rain! Does it get any better than this? We're snug as a bug in our log cabin house up here in the Canadian boonies, fire blazing away. The pups are snoozing in front of the fire, the cat is lying on the mastiff's back occasionally giving the sweet animal a swat when the snoring gets loud. I'm drinking a LARGE mug of hot chocolate – Cowboy put a mega amount of marshmallows in it – and I'm eating chocolate lava brownies I made last night. (The giant squid is such a wuss. He's eating what he calls a normal breakfast – cream cheese omelet, toast, sausage, coffee.) (I do not like sausage.) Tsk. The man lacks a true spirit of adventure. I'm going to tell him so as soon as I finish the last of the brownies and have one foot out of the room.
I love winter! I love winter weather. I wouldn't mind going out on the deck and inhaling some of it but sure as shootin, the second I open the sliding door to the deck a behemoth monster will rise up and grab me, growl something not worth listening to and then no matter how many layers of clothing I'm wearing, I'll feel his giant paw on my teeny tiny backside. Tsk. Didn't I say he has no spirit of adventure? (He's a wuss, too.)
It's about 10 or so below zero right now; the wind is singing high pitched songs. Fog is pretty thick but I can just make out a few tree branches swaying. The lake is frozen, of course. The cat is fascinated with the sounds and sights but will eventually succumb to sleep; he has to get his 20 hours of snoozing in – it's his job. The pups continue to snore through it all. The giant squid is looking at me… I know that look. He notes the weather, my interest in it and is watching. He's a protective wuss, but still a wuss. No adventurous spirit. Tsk.
"Sar…" he says. It's a warning tone.
Tsk. Haven't done anything… yet.
I don't think he's going to get much done today; he'll be too busy watching me.
Cowboy says he'd like one of my chocolate lava brownies. Oh please! As if I'd share chocolate! I suggest he help himself to the Twinkies in the pantry. Some Italian mumbling follows. Oh dear. One of those words is parte inferior which translates to "bottom" and the other word – which I can't spell means to spank. I think I'll stuff the rest of the lava brownies in my mouth and take refuge behind the rotts.
"SAR!"
Oye. I think he drank too much coffee.
Did I mention it's foggy, alternating snow and freezing rain? The wind is blowing. I'm sitting behind 2 rottweilers eating chocolate lava brownies, drinking hot chocolate with lots of marshmallows. I'm fairly certain the giant squid is contemplating evil while he watches me. Okay, he just might have a little bit of an adventurous spirit. But he's still a wuss.
~Sar~
I love winter! I love winter weather. I wouldn't mind going out on the deck and inhaling some of it but sure as shootin, the second I open the sliding door to the deck a behemoth monster will rise up and grab me, growl something not worth listening to and then no matter how many layers of clothing I'm wearing, I'll feel his giant paw on my teeny tiny backside. Tsk. Didn't I say he has no spirit of adventure? (He's a wuss, too.)
It's about 10 or so below zero right now; the wind is singing high pitched songs. Fog is pretty thick but I can just make out a few tree branches swaying. The lake is frozen, of course. The cat is fascinated with the sounds and sights but will eventually succumb to sleep; he has to get his 20 hours of snoozing in – it's his job. The pups continue to snore through it all. The giant squid is looking at me… I know that look. He notes the weather, my interest in it and is watching. He's a protective wuss, but still a wuss. No adventurous spirit. Tsk.
"Sar…" he says. It's a warning tone.
Tsk. Haven't done anything… yet.
I don't think he's going to get much done today; he'll be too busy watching me.
Cowboy says he'd like one of my chocolate lava brownies. Oh please! As if I'd share chocolate! I suggest he help himself to the Twinkies in the pantry. Some Italian mumbling follows. Oh dear. One of those words is parte inferior which translates to "bottom" and the other word – which I can't spell means to spank. I think I'll stuff the rest of the lava brownies in my mouth and take refuge behind the rotts.
"SAR!"
Oye. I think he drank too much coffee.
Did I mention it's foggy, alternating snow and freezing rain? The wind is blowing. I'm sitting behind 2 rottweilers eating chocolate lava brownies, drinking hot chocolate with lots of marshmallows. I'm fairly certain the giant squid is contemplating evil while he watches me. Okay, he just might have a little bit of an adventurous spirit. But he's still a wuss.
~Sar~
Saturday, January 16, 2010
Checking in
Cowboy here.
The imp is napping; either the insomnia is back or it's the dosage on meds. I'm pleased she's resting. Sar needs a bit more down time than before those health issues cropped up. Those meds are a challenge to regulate. That rapid metabolism plays havoc with most of them; too little, the imp wilts – blood pressure and heart rate too low – too much, she's dizzy from an adrenaline high. We'll be heading to DC to check in with the medics if lab work is necessary. No need to tell you this option won't go over big with my wife. Usually this means an overnight stay in the hospital. Definitely not looking forward to that - neither are the medics.
We're enjoying quality time in the house where we spent our honeymoon; by a frozen lake in Quebec. The first time we were here the only way in was by floatplane; now there's a 2-lane gravel road that gives way to other roads eventually leading to a highway. 20+ years makes a difference. The house has been remodeled a few times over the years; the owners are old friends. Appliances are new; new rugs cover the wood floors, the furnace has been replaced. We like using the fireplace as much as possible; cozier that way plus mia bambina will fall asleep in front of a fire faster than simply going to bed.
There's enough snow on the ground to tempt the imp into making snow angels. That's not gonna happen. The temps are low. That'll keep the snow around for a while. When I let the dogs out I keep a watchful eye to be sure Sar stays inside. My wife has a bit of commentary to make when I come in – mostly reasons why she should enjoy a bit of fresh air. I open a window just enough to give her some. This leads to more commentary and the occasional swat on her backside. I already know I'm a Neanderthal but a protective one. A short while back the imp got out onto the deck; there was a full moon. Under a heavy coat she's in her birthday suit; flashed the neighborhood – said she was paying homage to the moon – I grabbed her, went back inside, warmed her up in the appropriate manner. That's my job; I take it seriously. *Smiling*
Mia bambina is cooking a bit, baking too. This makes her happy, keeps her relaxed. As long as she doesn't overdo things I'm content to let life happen in the old routine. There's plenty of food in the freezer; we won't starve. Her fiber art has taken a bit of a backseat; working on it about an hour or so a day; much more than that and a rest is in order. Naps make me happy; occasionally I join her.
I'm doing a bit of consulting, a bit of writing for the Navy. Catching up with some old matters that could use some revision. Glad I'm retired; no deadlines on this watch. Watching the imp has always been a full-time endeavor. Now I have the time to indulge it. It's quite enjoyable.
Cowboy
The imp is napping; either the insomnia is back or it's the dosage on meds. I'm pleased she's resting. Sar needs a bit more down time than before those health issues cropped up. Those meds are a challenge to regulate. That rapid metabolism plays havoc with most of them; too little, the imp wilts – blood pressure and heart rate too low – too much, she's dizzy from an adrenaline high. We'll be heading to DC to check in with the medics if lab work is necessary. No need to tell you this option won't go over big with my wife. Usually this means an overnight stay in the hospital. Definitely not looking forward to that - neither are the medics.
We're enjoying quality time in the house where we spent our honeymoon; by a frozen lake in Quebec. The first time we were here the only way in was by floatplane; now there's a 2-lane gravel road that gives way to other roads eventually leading to a highway. 20+ years makes a difference. The house has been remodeled a few times over the years; the owners are old friends. Appliances are new; new rugs cover the wood floors, the furnace has been replaced. We like using the fireplace as much as possible; cozier that way plus mia bambina will fall asleep in front of a fire faster than simply going to bed.
There's enough snow on the ground to tempt the imp into making snow angels. That's not gonna happen. The temps are low. That'll keep the snow around for a while. When I let the dogs out I keep a watchful eye to be sure Sar stays inside. My wife has a bit of commentary to make when I come in – mostly reasons why she should enjoy a bit of fresh air. I open a window just enough to give her some. This leads to more commentary and the occasional swat on her backside. I already know I'm a Neanderthal but a protective one. A short while back the imp got out onto the deck; there was a full moon. Under a heavy coat she's in her birthday suit; flashed the neighborhood – said she was paying homage to the moon – I grabbed her, went back inside, warmed her up in the appropriate manner. That's my job; I take it seriously. *Smiling*
Mia bambina is cooking a bit, baking too. This makes her happy, keeps her relaxed. As long as she doesn't overdo things I'm content to let life happen in the old routine. There's plenty of food in the freezer; we won't starve. Her fiber art has taken a bit of a backseat; working on it about an hour or so a day; much more than that and a rest is in order. Naps make me happy; occasionally I join her.
I'm doing a bit of consulting, a bit of writing for the Navy. Catching up with some old matters that could use some revision. Glad I'm retired; no deadlines on this watch. Watching the imp has always been a full-time endeavor. Now I have the time to indulge it. It's quite enjoyable.
Cowboy
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