Meow! Part 2

                                                    

                                              

                                                                              

                                                                            

Wish these had scanned in color.  Hope you laugh as hard as I did. :)))

Meow!

While having coffee this morning, I heard Claire's voice outside and looked out to see what was going on.  She was dressed in her Halloween costume greeting her housekeeper with her mom and baby John.  Get a load of Miss Kitty Kat.  Please note the accessorizing:  pink sparkle shoes, matching sparkle purse, and pink doo-dads in her hair.  I nearly dropped my phone.  Here is the back.
                                                                             

She was on her way to ballet class and since it's Halloween, everyone was told they could wear their costumes.  Hers actually has a kitty head piece with ears but she doesn't like it --it's probably hot as blazes on her head-- so her mom simply drew on whiskers, with eyeliner.  Baby John was not in costume since he wasn't going to ballet but word on the street is, he is going to be a dragon, so I'll see him tonight with his posse. 

Sis shot out the front door with me and when she saw Claire, high-tailed it around the side of the house and headed for the alley.  Tonight will be her least favorite night of the year.  The ringing door bell makes her bark and get excited, but then it's like opening the front door to find Hell on your own front porch.  Since she is terrified of kids, it's just repeated trips to Hell for her.  She feels sort of safe if one of us is with her, but it's still her worst nightmare and I know it is for other animals, too. All that squawking and squealing and she needs a Valium.

More later.  To be continued.

This and That

Lots going on today including bidding an old appliance adios.  Our dishwasher recently began to smell like a three pack a day smoker and since she's served us well, it was time for her retirement.  Today our new one arrives and after chatting with a pal (Jodi) and based on what I already knew about Bosch dishwashers, that's what I got.  I did not opt for the one with the three levels--the top one being for large spoons, pancake flippers, etc.  Why?  Because I could not see the damn thing unless I bent over completely and knew if I put things up there, I'd never find them again.  Ever.  The chief concurred with me and we both decided that was a tad fancy for our needs. If we can't see something, it's not going to get used. 

One of my favorite little people got hurt over the weekend.  Avery, the youngest of the smalls, bit into a glow stick, and the goopy stuff inside burned her mouth.  Why do you bite into a glow stick?  I dunno.  Maybe because you can, but the result is, she had to drink loads of water and will have to wait for the chemical burns to heal up.  They were not bad--just uncomfortable.  Check her out in her Halloween costume.             

Which brings me nicely to Halloween costumes.  When you are little, there are only two categories:  Beautiful or Badass.  Either sex can do either one, but that's about it if you plan to make a statement.  As you get older, the world of categories opens up:  most politically incorrect, funniest, sexy/hunky, most clever, cheapest, tackiest, and scariest, but most people don't do the scary anymore.  It's simply too expected and real life is scarier than any costume I've ever seen except for maybe Universal Studios, so why bother.  Plus, you have to use all that nasty fake blood and make up.  That just triggers my ick reflex.

I'll try to get pics of Hadley in hers and Hudson in his Ninja one, unless he's changed his mind.  Kiddos....so fun!!!  They are exactly what the craziness of this world needs. 

Customer Service

After battling this afternoon to bundle our cable, computer, and phone service, I not only got a better deal but can email my "service retention specialist" tomorrow if I want to do even better.  A haggler I am not, but do not tell me you cannot help me if I am, and have been, a loyal paying on time customer for eons (and I'm talking to you, AT&T.)  After so long as a nurse, customer service has been drilled into my bones and practically shoots out my.......well...you get what I'm saying.  Crummy service and I'm gone.  There's just way too much competition in this world to settle.
                                                                        
Which brings me to my favorite customer service people:  Lands End and DSW (by phone because I had a question).  Not only did they honor a coupon I had for $40, they then gave me free next day shipping, and because I called in and am a certain level member, they rounded up on my spending points to send me another $10 off coupon in the mail.  Yeah...I know what you are going to say.  That's how they keep me spending but at least they are nice about it, and AT and T isn't. Now for Lands End.  No, their stuff isn't the same quality as it used to be but then neither is anyone elses, so I might as well go with people who are nice and offer me great customer service. Besides...they are old school and some part of me still just loves that.  Can't help it...I'm a softie.

Lastly, today I finally fired the design gal I'd been attempting to work with for over a month.  You knew I was gonna.  I had nothing to show for it other than a tension headache.  Too busy with her other pursuits, full of excuses and justifications, and not action oriented, after four weeks I was cooked.  I have learned that when I see something : once is a fluke, twice is a coincidence, and three times is a pattern.  If I see a pattern, it's adios, muchacha.
                                                                                  

 What a relief.  Taking care of yourself is so worth it. But maybe not like this.  Hilarious, though, isn't it?

Halloween Candy

Jeeeeeepers, I love Halloween.  It's like a free pass to eat candy.  You're supposed to do it.  It's the Halloween law and it's the ONLY time of year I let myself do it.  This morning I took the candy Pop Quiz  in Parade magazine.  It's a side view of seven different candy types and you had to guess what they are by looking at a cross section shot.  Seriously?  I aced it-- except for the one candy bar I'd never ever 1) even heard of and 2) didn't know existed.  What in the hell is a Charleston Chew?  In all my almost 60 years of candy eating, I've never come across that one.  I bet I'd try it, though.  It looked a lot like a Three Musketeer with whiter fluffy stuff.  

Friday night, I finally opened our big old honkin' bag o' calories from Sam's and did a half gainer right into it, followed within minutes, by my TV watching partner.

 Between the two of us, we are two happy little candy eating kids, minus the costume and hassle of going door to door.  Gee, it's great to be a grown up.

Life's lessons...ouch

I am learning not to get in the way of someone else's life lesson.  Notice I said learning.  I have not mastered this, nor will I ever, but it's just another benefit of getting older.  You learn what's yours, and what belongs in someone else's bucket.

Wednesday, Senora Maria showed up after a five month vacay.  Not to get technical but she had called a week or so ago and said she would "be there on Monday".  Ten-four.  I copy.  By Tuesday, and no phone call to tell me when she would be coming, the ironing got handled.  Boom.  Done and done.  When she showed up, I told her "there is no ironing...it's all done".  The look on her face was one of shock and a bit of 'tude..... until I reminded her she didn't call me and tell me when she WAS coming.  Oh, yeah.  That.

I'm learning that life is a really great teacher if I will stay out of the way.  People learn very quickly that their negative actions have consequences, IF they are allowed to suffer whatever those consequences truly are.  If it pinches or hurts, it's going to get their attention.  They may choose to get the lesson, they may not.  But they are a lot more likely to "get it", if they're allowed to feel really uncomfortable.  Unfortunately, it's how most of us learn best.                                                                             

To sofa or not to sofa

By days end yesterday, I was ready to scream and pull my hair right straight off my head.  I had been working with someone to do some refurb work around casa Harris and we hit a wall.  In other words, I had 1) started early (Sept.) 2) knew my focus 3) did what I knew to do to get my needs met.  Only that is clearly not what the universe had planned for me.  Nope...not at all.

The first fabric I chose has been discontinued and, no, they didn't have enough to do my two chairs.  No special orders.  Nada.  Back to the drawing board.  Tick...tick...tick.  More time slips away while we look for other fabrics.  The second fabric I chose I actually liked even more--yay--and, it's on back order for 2-3 weeks meaning there's no way my chairs can have surgery and be recovered before Christmas.  Quit laughing.....I realize this is a really high class problem but it still has me wrapped around my own axle.  When I'm ready for a change, I'm just..... READY!!!  (Welcome to my inner toddler.)

After two attempts, I have slowed my roll.  Maybe I just need to chill on these chairs and not try to force a solution, picking yet another fabric that's not going to be what I really need and want.  Whoa.  Sort of a grown up notion.  In the past, I would have redoubled my energy and efforts and just pushed harder.  On a bad day, I'm still capable of that.  I am.  I admit it.  Instead, I'm just going to relax and give time, time.   Today I know when it ain't workin', it just ain't workin'.

Now, for the sofa.  Yeah, that.  The one I have is fine, just old, honking big, perfect for a man cave, and needs to find a home elsewhere.  A new one is possible, the fabric required is on hold BUT, crapola.  That's not what I had planned.  Yep.  There's just no pleasing me right now. I think I'll go find my Eight ball and ask it what to do.  If nothing else, it will sure make me laugh. 

***My Eight ball said "Without a doubt".  hahaha

DD

I don't know about yours but my weekend was really low key and fun.  Saturday we went to grab lunch in Snider Plaza because we needed a first birthday gift for later that day and Learning Express is right there.  Boom.  Done.  As we were standing in line for lunch, I felt a slight tug on my shirt and turned around.  No one was there until I looked down.  And there he was.  My love bird extraordinaire, Hudson, with his mom, coming to pick up their lunch.

I asked him how he knew it was me (from the back) and he said he recognized Bruce, and then saw me.  To say that I swooped on him is an understatement.  I tried to reign it in a little but sometimes when I see him, I just go all cuckoo.  Luckily, not many people were in Short Stop so I could just let it all rip.  That boy is just the best. 

Here's what he sent me from his mom's cell. Once I saw it, I had to have the Duck Dynasty Beard Booth app so I could beard everyone I know.  It took a little doing but he helped me load it, and the bearding began.

Next we were off next door for baby John's birthday party.  As we arrived, he had just finished his smash cake and was literally covered in yellow cake and chocolate frosting.  We couldn't even kiss him-- but sure could have licked him.  Kids were everywhere and the jumping house was getting a work out.  We finally found Claire inside with her housekeeper.  I think the chaos had worn her out.  She's always a great sport.  She just looked like she was ready for everyone to go home.

 Finally, for my last bearding:  Uncle Si.

Dancing

You know how some mornings just start off right, even if it is a Monday?  Today was one of those.  I was checking my FB page and saw a post from a friend--a video--and just had to open it.  For the next minute or so, I was howling.  It was a video of  what appears to be a tap dancing class recital of maybe three + year old's but that's not even the funniest part.  The next to the last little girl, an African American little spitfire, is dancing her own dance, and she's got more moves than jello.  The little white girl next to her tries to do the dance that's expected, but looks joyless and a little shell shocked.

Not Miss Do Your On Dance.  Oh, no....she's dancing with a joy and exuberance that is a perfect reminder to just Do It Your Way and Dance Your Own Dance.  Who cares that your dance may not look like everyone elses, isn't what's expected, and might not please everyone.  You aren't everyone else.  You're you, and your dance is PERFECT.  Now, start the music....let's dance. 
                                                         

First Fall Fire

Cars are lining both sides of the street out front and helicopters are circling above our house.  Yep, it's the annual Komen Race and from the looks of things, it's well attended.  They'll be on their way soon so no biggie.  I remember one year some late comers were driving past our house, desperate for a parking place.  Cars were everywhere.  I happened to be up early, outside with Wigman, and I motioned to the lady driving to park in our driveway.  She was frantic and in a total lather.  She thought I was kidding and rolled down her window saying "But I'll block you in".  I told her she wouldn't since our driveway goes all the way from the front to the alley, so not to worry.  She roared into the drive way, out jumped four ladies, and they took off running, pink gear and all, yelling thank you as they went.  I love being able to do something like that when somebody is clearly in a pickle, and she was.

Since we had a cold front last night, someone around here got all frisky this morning and was up early.  He claims it was the helicopters that woke him up.  I say baloney.  Anytime the weather changes, Mr. Ants in His Pants gets all excited and can't sleep.  So, he putters, walking from room to room with his headphones on totally oblivious to how noisy he really is and finally, I throw in the towel and just get up.  Yes, it would be more fun to kill him but then I'd be up anyway, with a big mess to clean up and a body to dispose of.   So instead, I got coffee, asked how cold it was and decided to make a fire.  Yeah....me...I was going to.  Seconds out of my mouth, Mr. Activity was out the back door for wood, piling it on, and boom fire time.   As we are both card carrying pyro's, I let this one go.  Seeing him get all excited is half the fun anyway.  (If Brian and Benji read this they will both know what I'm talking about and be howling.)  That's just how he rolls.

In order to take care of myself....yeah, the one with the fire idea in the first place....I went out to the garage and got a big old chunk of pinon wood and tossed it right on top where the flames were roaring.  My gift to the entire block.  The smell of pinon.  Ahhhh.   Lovely. 

                                                                         


 

Life Continues

Yesterday was a sad day.  I found out my friend with stage 4 colon cancer had died only a few days after they moved her from skilled nursing to the hospice area of Grace Presbyterian.  While I am grateful for her swift exit, I still feel a huge hole in my heart.  Her sister was with her until right before she died.  Not knowing when my friend might die, her sister had needed to run an errand, and was coming right back.  She no sooner left than the nurses called her and said to come back quick.  By the time she got back, my friend was gone.

That's the thing about death.  You just never know how it's going to go.  I've had several scenarios in my head about how mom might die, and I'll bet you $10, none of them are what actually happens.  Some people die gently, others go out swinging, fighting the whole way.  Blessed are the ones that slip away softly.

Birth is often the same way.  Some babies look like prize fighters all beaten up by the time they arrive.  Others look like they've seen a stylist shortly before their entrance.  I've seen some covered in meconium (baby poop) and others not too gooky.  It just depends, and you never know.  Another one of life's little reminders that no matter what you may think, you are not in control.

I went to see mom yesterday and for the most part, her oral language is shot.  The weird part is, she can still occasionally say my name.  Clearly the speech part of her brain has taken a big hit but a few synapses are still firing.  I sat on her bed with her and told her what's been going on lately...and I cussed... and she screamed out laughing.  She was very familiar with what we were discussing, so she was ready to "punch 'um" (previous post).  She did her eyebrow raise thing that lets me know she got it and that she's with me 100%, and all I could think of was, what a gift.  We can still communicate.  Although it's very lopsided with me doing mostly a monologue, I still can tell by her body language what she's thinking (sometimes) even when her mouth and brain can't tell me.

 I can talk to her better now than when she could speak.  My take away lesson?  Listening to my kids and letting them just talk, accepting them right where they are and not trying to "fix" them or the situation, is the biggest gift I can give them.   Mom continues to teach me.  Holy cow.

Crazy World

I am excited. I have to admit it.  I received a phone call late yesterday afternoon from Senora Maria, my BF, confidant, and iron-er extraordinaire that she thinks she'll be here on Monday.  Now, I'm a seeing is believing kind of gal, but even my toes are crossed hoping she comes.  Her son Willie is slightly better (he's been in and out of the hospital) and I'll know more about him perhaps next week.  We didn't get to chat as long as I would have liked--I had someone here--but when I told her Benji had just been here she was crushed.  They haven't seen each other in forever and she loves nothing more than catching up on Benji and Andrea, and Brian, and actually seeing them is best. Essentially, she knows the whole clan so it's fun to dish about our respective families. 

She loves that I love the new Pope and thinks she will secretly convert me someday.  I keep telling her I'd be a lousy Catholic and she laughs knowing I'm right.  I would have to be more of a drive though Catholic, than the real deal.  Confession, church, and a coffee to go, please.

And speaking of the Pope, what in the world did I read today about the conservatives of the Catholic faith not liking him....what the hell??  They finally get a Pope who really understand what's important, and they don't like him.  Snort.  What's up with that?  Oh, yeah....he's loving and not discriminatory.  He wants less finger pointing and exclusion (gays), and more inclusion, ministering to the poor, the sick, and those in need.  Sounds like a great Pope to me. My crush continues.
                                                                     

   

Cocooning

Rainy days like this make me want to cocoon.  And cook.  And read.  But mostly, just cocoon.  I like to either get on my bed or in a favorite chair, my favorite drink beside me (coffee or ice tea), a good book, my journal, and the TV remote.  Napping is a major player in cocooning, just so you know, so don't forget pillows if you are couch surfing.  If it's chilly out, I put on socks and go get my favorite throw and cuddle up.  If it's hot, the fan above will be gently whirring.  Sis will be in her dog bed either in where I am, or in her chair in the den.  She will occasionally "patrol" and come find me, hop up where I am or ask to be up on the bed with me.  If it's cold, well....I just can't say no to her being up on the bed because she gets cold....and she's old.

On cocoon days, I'm all about comfort food.  Pasta, soup, that sort of stuff unless it's hot outside.  Then I'm all about cool food.  Some people like soft music in the background but that messes with me. I'm all about quiet.  Softness.  Silence.  Ahhhh.....

Benji does Dallas

What a weekend.  Benji blew into town and right back out leaving tumbleweeds in his dust.  Egads.  He moves at the speed of young.  Me?  Not so much.  I'm happy with a tad bit slower pace.  We had loads of fun in the car driving back from Houston, simply because it was the longest amount of time we'd had together uninterrupted in ages, to just gab.  And yack we did.  Ditto last night and this morning.

One of my favorite parts, though, had to be when Benji was Face Timing on his laptop with Andrea, with Sis beside him so Andrea could see the Black Bird.  Truthfully, Sis was a tad bit confused by it all and sniffed at the screen once or twice, but all in all she did her part for at least a little while.  I do wonder what Sis must have looked like to Andrea...all black, pink collar, and a big snout?   I'm thinking that's probably fairly accurate.  Sorry, Sis.     
                                                    

It's so fun for me to have both of my sons together in the same room, after so long.  As a mom, they are so fun to watch....I love to see them make each other laugh, bring up old stories and rehash.  To be so different, they are so alike.  What really messes with my head is when they each flash the others specific facial expression.  I start forgetting who is actually talking.  I begin to ask myself "OK...now is that Benji... or is that just Benji looking like Brian...or is that Brian?  Then my brain fog clears and an hour or so later, it happens again.  After a few of those, I know it's bedtime.  My brain is fried and it's not going to get better from here.  Go. to. bed.

Lastly, to flu shot or not to flu shot, that was today's question.  I didn't last year, after years of shots, but on a whim today, I went ahead and got one.  I figured it couldn't hurt (it didn't) but now my arm is aching (wah) and I just want to play sick.  I think I'll go take an Tylenol, get in my bed, and just whine.  Good night, all.

Shaking...

Wow.  Not sure what exactly is going on in the world but dang....there is some kind of seismic energy shift going on that sure has people on edge.  And grumpy.  And angry.  And AFRAID.  Yep.  AFRAID.  Or, at least that's my diagnosis.

Whatever is bugging me or getting the major part of my energy and attention, always boils down to FEAR.  There's something I'm afraid of way down deep that often I may not even be in touch with.  Unless I get quiet and do a little "fishing around" inside, I'll tell myself I'm not the least bit afraid, that's all BS, blah, blah, blah.   Until I do the "feeling work", everything stays the same.

Anne Lamott says that when animals in the wild are chased by a predator (major fear) and manage to escape, they often physically shake afterwards.  They physically shake not from fear, but to shake off the fight or flight chemicals released by their body.  In order to "get back in the fullness of their animal selves", they have to literally shake it off.  (I'm betting this seal shook to pieces.)

For people, the suggestion is to go run hard, ride your bike really fast like little kids do, dance hard, work out, or shake with laughter--anything super physical.  But the idea is the same:  shake it off.  Work it off.  Just figure out what you are running (or shaking) from.  Makes perfect sense to me. 

Thermostats

It's official.  It's Soup Season and I'm ready.  Not quite sure what I'm making today but you can be sure it will be soup.  Right now, soup just seems like exactly what I want.  Hot, vegetables, comfy....I'm just all over that idea today.  I'm sure I've been somewhat influenced by the Ruibal's seasonal delivery next door--corn stalks, hay bales, mums, and those gigantic pumpkins you could sit on.  They actually aren't for my neighbor's yard--she is doing a seasonal spiff up for a client-- and it just got me in the Fall mood.

I went out front in my robe with my coffee and we visited for a bit.  She was telling me how she thought she'd lost her mind.  In the last year she'd had a second child, bought the house next door and remodeled it, and run her landscape design business-- with more business than she'd ever had in the past.  She finally landed the size landscape design project she'd always coveted--an outdoor fireplace, terrace, kitchen.....yada, yada, yada.  Big $$$.  Only now she's so stressed, she realizes this is NOT what she wants.  She's come to the very real conclusion that she cannot have it all--at least not right now.  She can't be the kind of mom and wife she'd like to be, and run her business at this high level.  She remarked that she "felt so dumb thinking she could do it all".

 I told her I thought she was BRILLIANT!  She gave it a shot and got the perfect information she needed for herself.  When her kids are older, she can ramp things back up but for now, she's scaling back.  Her husband told her "you are the emotional thermostat around here and you are running really hot".  Hilarious.
                                                         

Green Pecans

Just back from my walk and to "monitor" the pecan trees.  As I walked, I was thinking a lot about mom.  Lately she's seemed more out of it with all three of us kids, and that just kills you inside.  Her verbal skills have been shot recently and she hasn't recognized any of us, or has called me "Peggy".  It's like a little piece of you dies every time you witness more slippage.  This death by joules is so painful but clearly necessary-- or mom would already be gone.

And that got me thinking about the pecans.  They are not going to drop until they are exactly, perfectly ready and until the tree tells to them to "let go".  Waiting is just part of that.  Lots of energy and work still to be done internally--I just can't see it with Mom or the pecans.  I do know it will happen and it will happen when it's time. 

Feeling the sadness is just part of the deal.  I think it's the worst part of the "letting go".  

RIP, Satch

It is with great sadness (and smothered laughter) that I bid my dog friend, Satchmo, adios.  Satch was the w-a-y elderly, peanut butter dapple dachshund of my brother's, with the gimpy back leg.  He was originally adopted and then returned to the breeder because of his "gimpiness".  My brother, being a hot dog mess, had to have a puppy one Christmas, so he took Satch home.  Period.  A forever home.  Satch was a great guy and all around happy to be here kind of dog unless you were a rabbit, or other dog he decided he didn't like.  He was a hunting loving hound so it was not in your best interest to look or act anything like prey.  If you did, the end result was not pretty.

Satch met his maker last night we think possibly due to a misstep--right into the pool.  He was hanging out at a friend of my brother's house, outside where he had been before, but at his advanced age...well, let's just say every place is new.  The pool is apparently level with the ground and perhaps a wrong turn or a tumble landed his poor old self, right smack in the soup.  He was a good swimmer as a young gun, but these days probably not so much, and mix that with the shock of falling into cool pool water and it was too much for his old decrepit self. 

My brother found out late last night that Satchmo was no Diana Nyad, and by the time he got back to the friend's house, they had fished Satch out of the pool, and wrapped him lovingly in a towel.   It was well after midnight by now, so whadaya do with a dead dog at that time of night?  Well...if you are my brother, you put him in your apartment's freezer. 

As my brother is telling me this tale over the phone, I'm OK up to that point.  Until the freezer.  And then I just lost it.  Grief does that to me.  I laugh at the most inappropriate times, and try as I might, it just spirals out of control from there.  We all process grief differently and mine goes into hysterical laughter every time.

Once I got rolling, my brother got going....like a feeding frenzy, only worse.  The next thing I know my brother is telling me "Yep...Satch is right up there next to my Trader Joe's Indian food."  Someone was beeping in so we didn't get to finish our conversation about what happens next for Satch's remains but my brother mentioned he "might try microwaving him next" to see if he could bring him back-- to which I howled again.  Geeze...we are some sick people.

RIP, Satch. 

Pot Roast and Lamott

I just finished putting my pot roast in the oven so I am taking five with a fresh cup o' joe.  Nothing says Fall like a yummy pot roast.  The meat all peppered up and seared, the veggies all lightly browned in a little EVOO--even the baby, blue, creamer potatoes.  Oh, yeah, baby.  Now that's living.  I like to deglaze my empty pan with some red wine, boil off the alcohol as I scrape off the flavorful bits at the bottom of the pan, and then pour in some beef broth.  Throw in your fresh rosemary and thyme twigs and then reload your pan with the meat, topped with your carrots, potatoes, and onions, poke it all, covered, in a 300 degree oven, and commence reading your newspaper.  You have worked hard so chillax.

Now, I'm not sure how I haven't read any of Anne Lamott's books up until now, but let's just say I am hooked.  Big time.  I may need rehab for her work when I finish all her books.  She is spiritual, irreverent, brilliant, honest to the bone, quirky, funny as hell, all with an ability to see and write like no one I have EVER encountered.  She can articulate things I feel but have never been able to put into words and then is laugh out loud funny as she tells it.  Her books came highly recommended by a good friend and boy, howdy, does Lamott ever resonate with me.  Last night I laughed until I had the wheezies.  (You will need your inhaler if you have asthma and possibly the occasional Kleenex, depending on you.) This gal so gets it and man, does she ever love hard.  I can so relate.

I just looked at my book and realized I had underlined almost every single page.  I didn't hi-lite because sometimes they bleed through the page, I get pissed, I like certain hi-liters and not others, I like certain hi-liter colors and not others....you get the drift.  Anyway, if you are in need of salve for your soul and for someone who tells it like it is, and then leaves you laughing, grab one of her books.  Her work is the spiritual antidote for a world gone mad.

                                                                 

Lawdy, lawdy

I am just back from a grocery run to Tom Thumb.  Parking in the garage, I noticed something was missing.  That can only mean one thing.  Yep.  They are out together riding around da 'hood.  Here they are, coming back.  Gee...I wonder what normal people do on Saturday? 

And look what he bought her.

                                                   

He yanked her leash too hard the other day and her back leg went numb for a second.  (Duh.)  It scared him so bad he got her a harness.  She thinks she's awesome.  She is. 

What's on your list?

This morning one of the readers I read everyday had a great suggestion.  It was around thoughts or ideas (dreams) of things you'd really like to do but have either forgotten or shoved to the side.  It suggests making an "I see" list.  I see myself doing A, B, C, etc.  The list can be as long as whatever your desire list is.  Then you ask God for His will around any of it.

I did a similar list after I retired--a bucket list with over 30 things on it and I've done all but two.  Time to get that list back out and update it.  It's so easy to forget what I really want to do, and just do the default stuff.  The stuff that's easy or usual and takes no stretching of me.  I tell myself "don't spend the money, I'm not really sure I want to do that, what if it turns out bad", when I sure as heck am sure I want to do it.  I'm just scared to stick my neck out. 

What if I write a book and 1) nobody buys it  2) I have to self publish it (count on it) 3) .....fill in the  rest of the blanks here.  The hilarious part is, I forget I will still have  written a BOOK.  Who cares if I end up with a pile of them in the garage?  I still did it.

What if I sell my house and move somewhere else and then don't like it?  What if I make a mistake? What then?  Well, you pack up and move again, I guess.  It's like the older gal who went to Medical School because she'd always wanted to be a doctor.  Younger students asked her why she was doing it, at her age?  "You'll be 60 by the time you can practice medicine".  Her response was "Well, I'm going to be 60 anyway...I might as well do something I really want to do". 

'Nuf said.  What's on your list? 

Crostini a la Harris

Mary just came by to drop off some tomatoes she'd received from a friend.  They gave her 6 and for a one person home, that was lots more tomatoes than Mary can use in a week.  Two might be heirloom ones as they are ugly and weird looking and that's the only criteria I know of for heirlooms other than great flavor.  We'll see tonight because here's part of din-din at our casa tonight.

I only do this with summer's great tasting tomatoes.  None of that store bought junk with no smell and no flavor.  I slice each tomato all the way though into whatever width slices you like.  Chill them first and slice right before you want to serve them.  Raid the tail end of your basil plants and grab enough large leaves for each tomato slice to be almost covered by a basil leaf.  Once your tomatoes are sliced, put them on a platter, and lightly sprinkle them with garlic salt and then fresh cracked black pepper.  Ya drooling yet?  Next fan the slices and slip a basil leaf a top each slice.  Crumble good goat cheese over all of this.  Use the good kind that sticks to your fingers because 1) it tastes better and is not dry  2) you get to lick your fingers before washing them off.

While you toast slices of Eatzi's sourdough bread, drizzle the tomatoes with good olive oil and splash liberally with balsamic vinegar.  Pile the tomatoes on a slice of bread and get ready for a feast from heaven.  Goat cheese and tomato crostini.  Deelish. 

Chocolate Sink hole

Yesterdays cake adventure?  Oy, vey...let's just say it tastes great.  It just doesn't look so swell.  The problem is, I went with a chocolate cake mix instead of a yellow one--like that should make any difference.  I don't think so.  Where it said add vanilla pudding mix, I added chocolate, of course.  Any sane person would.  I followed all of the other directions to the letter...I think it just need longer to cook.  That's my story anyway.

My oven is notoriously nuclear so with a thick metal bundt pan, I went under time, checked it, it wasn't done, went longer, and it sure looked done to me (and my toothpick).  What I didn't know is, one side was more done than the other, so a small cave in occurred when I tried to get it out of the pan.  What the hell?  My solution for any less than glam looking baking failure is, slap some vanilla (or any) ice cream on top, and pretend it's supposed to look that way.  Who cares anyway as long as it tastes good.  I sure don't and they won't know if you don't tell 'um. 

I am just back from visiting my dying friend with stage 4 cancer who is in a skilled nursing facility way the heck out by the VA Hospital.  Good Lord...I haven't been that close to the VA (just down the block) since I was a junior in Nursing school.  It is w-a-y past the Zoo and the upshot is.... now I really want to go to the Zoo, but that's another story.  It was great to see my friend although she is fading at a pretty fast clip.  Four of us went and delivered a CD my friend wanted (from a fifth friend who couldn't join us) but had been there Sunday.  It was Paul Simon's Graceland and it took all four of us to finally get it going on her CD player, a fact not lost on any of us.  Technical we are not but we sure laughed a lot.  First we had to pry the damn CD thing open, get it loaded, find the right track-- not realizing it had more than the two trays we could see.  Seriously?  Four almost sixty somethings and it took all of us, to finally blast my friend right out of the bed but we did leave her grinning from ear to ear, with the remote in her hand.   Sometimes it's just the little things that mean so much.

Driving back, I was reflecting on what we had shared during the visit and what she had told us.  Boy, howdy...it was the most meaningful forty five minutes I've spent in a long time.  And was I ever grateful that when the time was up, I was healthy and could walk out the door, hop in my car, and head home.  Jeepers.  I have so much to be grateful for.  Even if my cake did cave in. 

Fire them all

In an attempt to avoid all things negative, I'm going to stay away from commenting on Congress and the idiots therein.  It's a law, people.  Deal with it.   

Back tomorrow with something more uplifting.  Hopefully.