The Mid-night Riders

MIDNIGHT RIDERS.   Sounds cool, right?    Well, it was anything but cool for me.

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I went out of town for a few days with the girls.  While I was away, Hub grew a beard and signed me up to take the kid, Stella, on a midnight run to Alamogordo.  He prepaid for the early release of Assassin’s Creed.  Early release… as in 12:00 am Tuesday morning.  You could just imagine my surprise when I walked in the door and I was greeted by a bear and a kid tickled to death to be “with the geeks” , her words not mind.  From this point on, I will be referring to my Hub as Bear.  There is now not one spot covered with hair except the top of his head 😉  And I will think of myself as olden.

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It is rare that you see Stella excited about anything.  Oh she knows how to laugh but prefers to make us believe she never acquired that skill.  It is a teenager thing or so I have been told.  Tonight however she through caution to the wind.  She smiled and giggled a little devilish giggle all the way down the hill.  I on the other hand, was downing my third cup of coffee, wiping my eyes and yawning at about every mile marker.

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At 9:00 pm we jump in the car.  The instructions on the receipt  said to be down there by 10:00 to get a ticket.  I am wondering how in the world this kid of mine can talk me into things like this.  About that time, I remembered it was Bear that got all this started.  Truly, I was okay with it all.  I love to see her happy.  An hour later we are pulling into the parking lot.  The parking lot is full of people.  Some were dressed as characters from the video (Stella was in that bunch) others barely dressed!   They were from 16 years old to me, and believe me that is a huge age span.  We  go in and get a ticket.  We were assigned line two.  Normally I am the center of attention with my out spoken personality but not tonight.  It became very apparent that my time had come and gone.  These young people had twice the energy and double the stories to tell and they all had something in common that I had no clue about ……Assassin’s Creed.  I listened for a while then tucked my tail between my legs and moseyed on back to the car. I watched Stella from the driver’s side.  She was in her element.   It is hard to watch her grow up but also very rewarding.  I grabbed my phone and tried to convenience myself I was still young and hip.  I mean heck, I had a smart phone and I knew how to use it.

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On the way home she must have noticed I was feeling a little left out because we talked about history.  Assassin’s Creed is a game involving history from the Revolutionary War to the Civil War and beyond…at least I think that is what she said.  It did the trick.  I was not feeling so rejected.  If there is one thing I know about it is history. I mean I practically lived it according to the kid!

Thought for the day:  The most aggravating thing about the younger generation is that I no longer belong to it. … Albert Einstein

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Holy Toledo Don’t Move

If you follow me, you know that I have a few dogs.  Mutt is the biggest of all three and the biggest chicken of them all.  This scaredy cat syndrome she has leads to a lot of uncontrolled barking.  My neighbors hate it and so do we.  My husband had threatened for years to buy one of those shocking dog collars for barking, but I forbade it.  All I could imagine was the ‘youtube’ video where the dude had the collar on and he barked.  Each time he barked louder and each time he was shocked with more intensity.   The poor guy was crying uncontrollable by the time he got it off.  NO WAY WAS THAT HAPPENING TO MY BABY GIRL. PERIOD.

Mutt is totally afraid of everything and everyone.  If she sees white on the ground, she refuses to go out.  It does not help that she was clobbered by a 2 foot avalanche of snow off the roof one year.  When she sees anything out in the yard that has not been there all her life, she spazzes out especially if it is black.  In out, in out, barking for one of us to come see what is in her space.  Fall is the worst.  Leaves…do I need to say more?  She has a dog door but you can forget about her using it after sun down.  In the rare cases she has tried to brave the night, she has high tailed it right back in with eyes as wide as apples, hair ruffled on her back, and barking to beat the band.  Heck, half the time she is running so fast and out of control to get back inside she misses the dog door completely and smacks her head into the door facing.  She is definitely my 80 pound chicken little.

One day I came home from work.  Hub was avoiding eye contact.  I knew something was up right then.  He only does this when he has done something he knows I would not approve of.  I looked all over for evidence to support my suspicion.  I found nothing.  As I was fixing dinner, I noticed Hub was becoming more fidgety and shifty eyed.  Hmmmmm.  I served dinner and all were in attendance except Mutt.

MUTT.  I look at Hub. Not a word escaped his lips.   He had that deer in the head light look.   I got up and looked out the back door.  There was Mutt in the corner of the yard pressed against the fence.  She was just sitting there not doing anything.  I opened the door and called her in.  She came walking on her tip toes.  What the heck was going on?  I asked Hub if he had beaten my dog.  He looked at me as if I had asked him if he’d killed one of my kids.  “Of course not!” he said with disgust.  Mutt comes in with a mixture of calm and defeat.  I thought maybe she was sick.  I resumed eating.

It was not until later that night I realized she had not uttered a sound all evening.  She went out and came back in without incident.  What in the world was going on?  I called her over to the couch.  She jumped up and laid her head in my lap. And that is when I saw IT.  Hubs had gone and bought that shock collar!  I throw my evil eye upon him and he immediately started with his defense.

He pointed out the fact that we had not heard a peep out of her all night.  (evil eye).  He pointed out that she has calmed down to a normal dog’s energy. (slight evil eye).  And the most important thing was the collar seemed to have a calming affect on her that made her a bit braver and more confident.  (Are you kidding me?  Huge Evil Eye!).  He gave me a little cockeyed smile.  I went to take it off but he forbade me.  Oh boy, but I went along with it.  I was going to trash it as soon as he went to sleep.  However, something happened that night.  She did seem a bit more confident.  She went in and out the door with ease.  No barking and no frightened looks.  It was as if this collar was protecting her at all times.  I’m sure in her mind everything around her was getting shocked too and therefore nothing would dare move or grab her.  I did not throw it away.

Next morning, I asked him about her reaction to the collar.  He said she was barking her fool head off at something, probably a falling leaf.  He put the collar on and walked back inside.  She started to bark again and got a surprise!  It shocked her and he said she yelped.  She tried it one more time, yelped, then never barked again.  It broke my heart to hear this but she was being quiet and acting very content.

Over the years she has become friends with it.  She knows the collar gives her more freedom and willingly comes to you to put it on.  (we can let her out without fear of the neighbors complaining)   You can even ask her where it is and she will look around the room as if she is really looking for it.  She has figured out she can bark but only intermittently.  The collar gives her a couple of times before it shocks. Please don’t think of this as cruel the why I did at first.  We give her the bark time she need to be queen of the back yard and, at least for my dog, it has helped her and us so much.  Now to the reason I started this story.

Jeff, our Pomeranian, has a vocabulary of about a billion barks. He loves to continually show off his aptitude.  Today was an extremely vocal day for Jeff and Hub had reached his limit.  He snatched the collar off Mutt.  She gave him a surprised look.  He then proceeded to adjust the size to fit Jeff.  No! No! I yelled. Mutt started walking in circles.  I kept telling Hub he was too little.  It would hurt him.  But Hub continued with his mission.  Before you knew it, Jeff was sporting a new shocking device around his tiny little neck.

I was freaking out.  Hub started laughing and I looked at him with contempt only to see him pointing at Mutt.  Mutt was sitting on the couch reared back with the whites of her eyes showing.   She and Jeff had locked gazes.   Her ears were lying down and she was so still she was not even breathing.  It looked as if she were telepathically warning Jeff not to make a sound or make a move.  And Jeff obeyed her every telepathic thought.  He stood there frozen stiff.  It was as if she had told him all about that collar.  He never made a peep.  And she never took her googly eyes off of him.  After a few minutes of laughter, from both of us, Hub felt sorry for him because he told me to take it off.  I did and off he went out the dog door to educate the backyard critters with his verbal skills. All I can say is I sure am glad the boy knows how to keep his mouth shut when it counts.

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Until next time remember this: When you find peace within yourself, you become the kind of person, err, dog who can live in peace with others.

Baby, take a walk on the dog side

A customer walked into the store the other day with her little poochie.  He was precious, fluffy, and smelling good.  His mom told me his name is Bandit and he was just groomed yesterday.  Boy, he really smelled good.  Ya know how they say sights and smells can spark memories, well this reminded me of the time I came home to an intruder in my house!

My house was a wreck from a weekend of our own dog grooming session.  With three dogs in the house, it gets hairy.  All get baths and one is shaved.   It is an ordeal, to say the least, since none of them like baths.  What am I saying?  They hate water.  If it is raining or snowing you can forget about going out for any reason.  This makes life hard when bathing them but it is an awesome correction tool.  Water in a spray bottle and a firm no makes them sit up and take notice.

Fortunately for us, the weekend we all dreaded was behind us and my babies were clean and smelling good.  My house did not fair as well.  Morning comes early in my house and time waits for no man, eer,woman.  We bid goodbye to the pooches, the messy house and left early for work.  Around 11:00 I became ill with a stomach virus and had to come home.

I drove up the drive and hit the garage door opener but nothing happened.  It had rained earlier in the day and I figured it knocked out the electricity.  The only way to get into the house is through the garage.  We don’t have keys for the house; however, we do have a small –let me stress that again– a small dog door in the back.  I would have to use it to get in.  No worries I have done this before with no problems.

I stick my head in, so far so good.  My shoulders go in one at a time.  Hmmm, I had not remembered it being so small.  Let’s not discuss all the weight I have gained since I last tried this.  I then wiggled my top half all the way in.  OH MY!  It was really getting tight.  That is when I realized I still had one arm at my side.  I would have to back out and start over.  One problem, I was stuck.  Really stuck.  I laid there for a minute wondering what to do.  The house was quiet.  Hey wait, THE HOUSE WAS QUIET.  My dogs were not in the house.  I could not imagine what was going on. Adrenaline started pumping and I jerked myself right out of the hole and started over.  It is all a blur now but somehow I got in.

When I got into the living room I smelt it.  It is an unmistakable smell.  It was a man’s cologne and it was strong.  OH my lord!  There is a man in the house and it ain’t my Hub! My house was in shambles.  Somebody broke in, let my dogs out and burglarized my home!  WAIT, maybe he is still here.  My adrenaline was going ninety to nothing.  I grabbed a knife out of the drawer and crept down the hall.  As I was tip toeing  to my room I started questioning myself,’  What the heck am I doing?”  What am I really going to do if someone is in here?’  ‘Why would a burglar smell so dang good?’  Then I told myself, ‘Call the PoPo!’,  ‘Turn around you fool!’,  but I just kept on walking toward the pending doom.

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Before I knew what was going on, all heck broke loose.  I was pounced on and knocked to the ground.  My face, arms and hands were covered in wet goo everything was loud and confusing.  I finally got my wits about me and realized it was my DOGS.  They did not know it was me because the garage door never opened.  I guess they were trying to hide from the burglar.  I was never so happy to see them in my life but the house still smelled like a man.  I shushed the dogs and kept looking.  Mutt’s, (Lab/Weimaraner/Chicken mix),  back hair was standing on end.  She was tippie toeing on my heels and sniffling dog sniffles.  Jeff, (Pom/old man mix), was following with a bewildered look on his face but he was quiet too. Lucy’s, (Rat Terrier),  nails were tapping an eerie sound on the hardwood floor short, deliberate and brave.  Each door held a mystery, I would reach a door then quickly throw my head in… shaky knife leading  the way.  Then return to my position behind the wall.  A scene right out of Cagney and Lacey minus the Lacey.  After I was convinced the intruder was gone, I looked to see what valuables he took.    A room by room search reveled nothing was missing.  I guess no one wants a 15 year old TV or an awesome cassette player, dirty underwear and dog toys.  When I approached the last room in the house to be searched, I was overcome with the man’s cologne.  Maybe I was wrong and he was in there.  He could have been hiding behind the shower curtain and I forgot to check it.  (insert Psycho’s shower scene here) I slowly twisted the knob, my heart was in my throat, my little butter knife up and ready.  The door slowly opens……… and then I come FACE TO FACE with the source of that man’s cologne. The intruder!

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It was Tommy Hilfiger, well, it was his cologne sitting on the sink.  NO ONE IN THIS HOUSE WEARS COLOGNE!  Wait, wait just a minute, upon further inspection I saw it was really a bottle of Timmy Holedigger Dog Cologne!!  Son had bought and sprayed Jeff with it that morning before he left.

TIMMY HOLEDIGGER DOG COLOGNE….FOR HEAVEN SAKES.

Oh and about my house being in shambles, it was the mess that we did not have time to clean up.  I guess in all the excitement I did not recognize my own mess.

Thanks everyone for the pep talk from the earlier post that I have now removed.  You have no idea how much you all helped me.  Much love and peace sent your way.

You Want Thighs With That?

Back in 2010, I went to Memphis for a couple of months. My son had just been diagnosed with cancer and my mom was dying. I went to help take care of them both and keep my grandbabies for the summer. One day while visiting mom…..

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“Honey could you go get me some chicken livers? I have had a craving for them for the last three days.” mom said while drinking her coffee.

” Do I have to cook them or is there a special restaurant you buy them at?” I asked with reluctance in my voice. I hated using her stove.

“Down at the market is where I usually buy them. Back in the deli.” she says.

Cool, I didn’t have to monkey around with that stove from the 1800’s. I hated cooking on her stove and frying liver was the worst. I love to eat them I just hate to cook them. As I was heading to the deli, she adds to her order.

“Could you get some toilet paper, soap, milk and have them add some taters on that liver order.”

“Sure mom.” I call out as I race to the door. I knew my mom. If I hung around I would have a list a mile long and be going all over Memphis picking up this and that. Things not really needed but she felt compelled to get.

With grands in tow I headed to the deli. I get to the counter and a 20 something, beautiful blonde, blue eyed, gorgeous smile, little girl asked me,”May I help you?” with that familiar southern drawl I grew up with.

I asked if they had chicken livers today. She pointed at the food in the hot deli case between us and says

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“Why, yea-us we do.” and points to the livers in the corner. The case was full of southern fried goodies from fish to twinkies. She informed me that I could get chicken livers and two thighs for $3.99. I said okay thinking that I might have one for lunch. After second thought, I changed my mind and ask to change my order back to just livers and to skip the thighs. She looked at me with a confused faced and asked, “Where did you get thighs from?”

“From you.” I said. Now she is extremely perplexed and at a loss for words. I repeated her words back to her verbatim. “You can get chicken livers and two thighs for $3.99?” She started to laugh so hard she almost dropped the prongs.

Then she says, “No, s-i-d-e-s.” which she spelled slowly, “sides” she repeated in her southern drawl. Of course, that made sense. I mean that is a huge meal for $3.99.

“That will be fine.” I say looking around sheepishly to see who, if any one, was watching this interaction. Lucky for me only about a dozen people were in hearing range. I quickly move down to the veggies. As I was peering in to the food case for the “SIDES”, I found the potatoes and something else that caught my eye. It was a strange type of pea brownish red in color with snap beans surrounded by little tom tom tomatoes. I looked up to her cheerful face and asked her, “What is that?”

“That is what I was talking about the sssiiidddeeesss.” she said with a long and drawn out pronunciation of the word, as if I were deaf or from a foreign planet.

I said, “No what is it?”

Again she says, ” A SIDE” this time with a much sharper tone in her voice.

At this point, I am laughing so hard I can’t talk. I finally get out the words, “What kind of vegetable is it?”

“Oh that is just peas, honey.” she says.

As I drove back to mom’s, I came to the conclusion that even though I have one of the thickest southern accents in the little village I call home, I apparently have lost my ability to decipher the southern dialect. O mama.

Rest in peace mama. Your laughter was the greatest gift you ever gave me.  February 18, 1936 – September 7, 2010

Until next time,

Birdie

I have taken on another job.  I will be posting but  it will only be on Mondays until I can rearrange my life’s schedule again. I will for sure be reading your post.  You guys are one of the few things that brightens my days.  You may only see a -like– icon but know that I am either laughing, crying or saying hmmmm while reading you.  Wish me luck on this adventure.   I can never turn down an opportunity even if it is down a long and unknown road.

Speed Dating in a Bag

I have something I call the mating bag, and I often play the dating game with it.   Abandoned, lonely, and mismatched signatures all gather  in this

The Infamous Forbidden Closet, where all things go that shall remain nameless

little bag of mine.  Some lay straight, some crumbled and crushed, some are young and new, others are old and worn; but all are awaiting and willing to play this game with me.  I play  mainly, no… always, in the winter.  This secret game started well before I married.  It is an addiction that I do not wish to stop.  It is a game I so look forward to every year.  This bag is kept hidden deep within a closet that know one dare enter.  Just the thought of this bag sends goose bumps down my neck,  moisture to my lips, and then concludes with gloriously, sensual warm feet! FEET?

Yes, people.  I am talking about my white plastic sock bag.  What did you think I was talking about?   Dirty, dirty, dirty little minds.  I am sure many of you have one, a sock bag not a dirty mind. There may even be a few of you that also play this game of shame with Nike, Nononesence, and others.   This bag is where the lost and misplaced one-sided sock goes.  I can’t bear to throw them away.  Heck, half are brand new.  Most of the mates suffered an unknown death, others were eaten by the washing machine or met their demise by the playful antics of my Mutt; however, all the remaining partners still have life and great potential when hidden by my knee-high snow boots.  There are soft cuddly ones, rough but warm ones.  There are short ones and tall ones.  Socks of every color in the rainbow adorn my bag and delight my eyes.

The sock bags of many colors

In winter I can pull this bag out and play the dating game.  Sometimes the game is nothing more than   catch and release other times a true courtship will ensue.  Qualified applicants must pass a series of questions. Do the potential mates have compatible texture or weave?   Do they have the same  integrity?  Do they have fun together on your feet? How about their comfort value and what about that “wow!” factor, is it there?  Do polar opposites attract?  For example,  would the sophisticated plaid entertain the idea of being paired with the, oh so special, fun loving Ho Ho HO  message sock?

After careful consideration, I often use the speed dating technique, in which I try them on my feet and do a short test run through the house. I love how the newer ones slide across the hardwood floor when I take them on a test run.   If it all works, they are then paired and put into the sock drawer until it’s time to put away my beloved snow boots.  Of course, this marriage of blended colors, designs and textures are forbidden in today’s society but who will be the wiser under all my layers of cloths and boots?

I take pride in my rebel ways and look forward to winter.    However, the New Year will bring change.  You see, my bag has seen better days and my mates have been put through the ringer year after year.  Most are ready to move on to the retirement home they call The Good Samaritan Compost Heap.  There, they will find new uses beyond their comprehension.  For me, this year will bring something more than a plastic supermarket bag to stash them in.  I have a new recycled, reusable bag which will hold all my potentials looking for mates.  I also went shopping for new socks.  They are stacked up on the washer awaiting a good spin.  My Mutt has spied them and the drool has started flowing.  In her mind, this is equivalent to a new toy just out of reach.

So here is to all the mates I’ve loved.  The good. The bad.  The lost.  May your next life bring happiness and ripe juicy tomatoes!

Other uses for socks are: dusting, also storing your prized Christmas tree ornaments for next year.

Oh yeah, you can cover your golf clubs with them when putting away for the winter.

Just out of curiosity, what do you guys do with your lost mates?

aMusing Mondays: Flying Things or Drunk on Bug Juice

If you follow my blog, you have read about my dogs Mutt and Jeff. You also know that I have changed their names to protect the not so innocent. Maybe it is time you put a face to the pseudonym. Mutt is the big one. She is a cross between goofy and gentle. I bet you thought I was going to give you a couple of breeds didn’t you? Jeff is a tiny Pomeranian. He is not a cross between anything. He is straight up bossy, which can lead him into the wrong direction and that brings me to this week’s story…

Shortly after moving into our home we adopted Jeff. He was born head strong. He always walked his own path and was just plain hard to warm up to. He was and still is a strange dog with some odd peculiarities. When he was a baby he only wanted to be petted with your feet. Petting him with your hands would drive him crazy and not in a good way. Lord forbid you pick him up that would send him over the edge. Some of his peculiarities have disappeared over the years, some intensified and some are the same like hating ANYTHING that flies. Birds, bees, flies, you name it, if it flies he wants to catch it, defeat it and eat it. Many, many days I would be cleaning the kitchen, look out the window and see this crazy dog running in circles barking and jumping in the air for no apparent reason. (I always looked to see if the neighbors were watching him do this. They already think he is a little rabid he-devil. Seeing Jeff perform this ritual would seal the deal.) After closer inspection, I realized he was chasing little flying insects. It seems his favorite were little sweat bees. Many times he would come in the house after a good day of chase with a blown up snout. Before I really knew what was causing it, I thought maybe allergies.

One evening I was sitting on the back porch with Mutt and Jeff. I noticed Jeff’s head bobbing back and forth. After a few seconds of bobbing, he would stand perfectly still then pounce the ground with his front paws. At first, I could not see what he was after but I could smell it. He had found a stink bug. It didn’t take long before I saw that it would crawl a little bit then try to fly. Of course, that would drive him crazy. Stink bugs have sticky legs with tiny barbs. They can hang on to anything for as long as they want. A few times it would stick to his snout. Oh my, that would send him into orbit. I kept telling him to stop messing with the bug. He would, for about 2 seconds, then go right back at it until I made him go in the house.

A few nights after that incident with the stink bug he was wanting out into the fenced back yard. I let him out while I stayed inside to watch a movie. Around 2 hours later, I noticed he was not back yet. I opened the door and found him sitting on the step staring into space . In he walked, then he stopped in the middle of the floor. As I watched him, I noticed something seemed to be stranger than normal. Not only was he now staring into space he was also swaying back and forth. You know that ‘dipping deep’ kind of swaying. The kind that almost looks like you’re leaning into a strong wind while trying to climb up a steep hill. Then without warning he reared straight up then fell over stiff as a board.

I FREAKED OUT! OMG What is going on? MY DOG! I raced over and held him in my arms crying like a baby. I could not figure out what was wrong but I did notice his breath. UGH! He had the strongest stink bug breath I had ever smelt. In no time at all, he popped out of it and was looking at me like, Why are you touching me with your hands??? He was so confused and so was I. Of course, Jeff could not tell me what he did so I went outside and looked around. Nothing, I found nothing but I smelt that nasty bug smell. I followed my nose until I came upon a hole in the ground. There I saw the remains of hundreds of dead stink bugs. Jeff had dug them up and eaten them. Apparently, stink bugs can make a dog drunk!

http://stinkbugsguide.net/

The next day he was showing no signs of illness. In fact, he was barking his brains out chasing another flying thingy. I ran out to make sure he did not have another stink bug. One heart attack a year is all that I can handle. As I got to him, I noticed it was not a stink bug but a poor little butterfly. It must have not been as exciting nor as enticing as the stink bug because he spat it out on the spot.

Until next time

The Power or My funny “friend” part 2

Last Monday was a part one and here, as promised, is the rest of the story.

It is a little past 12:00 p.m and around two weeks later. All the electricity it OUT, my husband would prefer that I not write about him again so I will tell you what happened when “my friend” came home.

I greeted my bestie at the garage door, which I had to manually open. He calls out, with the enthusiasm of a 9 year old. “What is wrong?” “The electricity out?” “Yes”, I said.

Here we go…..

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He walks into the garage as quick as knee high snow will let him. He immediately goes to the back porch. For a little while, I hear nothing, nothing at all. The door swings open… There he stands and in his hand is a key and the answers to all our problems, he proudly announced. I swear there were beams of light projecting from somewhere in the background. He looked bigger than life right then. Maybe it was the way he was holding himself

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chest out, head up, and chin straight or it could have been the sun setting behind him. In his hand, a little orange box attached to this long cord, which had been pulled in through the doggie door. (Dogs were looking a little suspicious at him) He sits it up on the kitchen island and with great satisfaction… he turns that key he was holding. This thing has a key to start it remotely!! I might need to get my friend to teach me how to use it. It starts up pretty as you please. He, my friend, smiles. Scurry, scurry all over the place pulling extension cord from everywhere. He starts plugging in the electronics. (notice his level of priority) TV – check, internet, router, and computers – check, refrigerator – check, by the way, he listens this time to make sure it is really off then turns and looks at me. I am standing there, apparently and without my knowledge, with a huge sheepish grin on my face. I’m taking it all in. I don’t want to miss a thing. In my mind, I’m writing this story as we go. He gets this serious look on his face and tells me I can not write about any of this. People in town are waving at him that he doesn’t even know and he attributes the friendly nature of folks to my FaceBook notes. Boy, he sure does give me a lot of credit. 😉

I open the refrigerator door and NOTHING! It was not working.

“It’s NOT WORKING” he says with disbelief and a slight panic in his voice. “I told you we should have tested this damn thing out before we really needed it”, my friend says. Unbelievably, he is directing that shout out at me. It could be because I told him I did not want to fool with all the cords and the hassle of moving things here and there when he first got it. It could be because I told him just to leave it until we really needed it, but who really knows why he would take such a tone. -grins-

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TV – does not work, internet and router not working. What the……? With a bewildered look on his face, heels dug in and tongue stuck out his mouth, for concentration, he sets to work on the problem. In and out, in and out of the house then a few minutes later, da, da, dah, everything is working. He calls me into the kitchen to receive a general lesson. “You have to make sure all the plugs are in tight”, he tell me. “And see this one, this one you have to turn it a half a turn to the right.” (Big Grin) He is really trying very hard to not show how exhilarated he is. He’s convinced I am going to write about this anyway. He’d be right.

Now we are sitting in the living room. My best friend is feeling quite pleased with himself. Then he looks at me, I could see the excitement building. He asked, “Do you think I should go plow the drive now?” All the while, the snow is being poured out of the sky by the bucket loads.
Thus, is a day in the life of my snow happy husband “friend” deep in the Sacramento Mountains.

All kidding aside, I love it when he is happy. He is my hero, my “friend”.

The Power or Oh Goody, Oh Goody… part 1

 This is the story that started everything, as in my blog.  I put it on Facebook back in Jan. 2010 and it was a hit.  I think it did so well because everyone on my Facebook knows  Hubs.  This showed him in a different light.  All my friends are familiar with the public man.Public man is a burly man, a man of very few words, a man who would never want any one to see the human side of him.  He is also a man that has sworn me to never write about him again.   So everyone needs to keep this one on the QT.

Hubs has been waiting on this day since Christmas morning. He was practically giddy with excitement. Did we win the lottery, a new truck in the drive or, please no, not another huge snow? It was none of the above.  Hubs was walking in and out of the house with an excitement that I have rarely heard, more like never heard.   I laid there listening. Soon he popped his head in the bedroom and reports, “The electricity is OUT!”, with the biggest Cheshire  grin that I have ever seen on his face.

To most folks me included, this is horrid no water, lights, and spoiled food; to my husband, it is music to his ears. After years of dealing with power outages, his father gave him a generator for Christmas. It was like opening his present all over again. He finally got to fill it with gas, start it and hooked it up. He kept telling me that the generator could run the whole house. I said no way. But he insisted it could.

As I laid there in bed listening, I heard it start. It was a smooth start, sort of like a Honda motorcycle. I could hear him going in and out of the house all excited and getting everything ready to be hooked up. He was just having way to much fun. To my surprise, the ceiling fan in my bedroom came on! I was shocked. He was right! This was one time I was happy to be wrong. No more nights without lights or sounds of the TV. This is a good thing. I got up to go check it out. The pure delight on his face was worth getting up to see.

As I am watching him plug the refrigerator into one of the extension cords, it hits me, how could the fans in the bedrooms be working when he is pulling extension cords in the house? He did not plug in the generator to the house at all. THE POWER had come back on without our knowledge. Oh no, how should I point this out? I just watched him plugging stuff in. All the while, a giant grin plastered on his face. Finally I ask him, how could the fans be working in the back of the house if we are using extension cords for power?

The gleam in his eyes and the smile on his face…..gone. “You mean we have power?”, he asked.” I thought I heard the frige running when I unplugged it. But I was not sure.” He, slowly, turned the generator off and returned all plugs to their rightful sockets. With his excitement faded and the reality of a day of delivering mail, in the snow without me, he kisses me good bye and says, “Have a good day off.”

Oh well, at least we know it starts!

 

aMusing Mondays: Raven part Daux or My Wife Has Lost Her Mind

gatewaytosed

FYI: My Wife Has Lost Her Mind was Hubs suggestion for this entry when I posted this on the webcam last summer.

The first year I lived here, I was seeing things that this city girl had never been exposed to. For example, mountain lions, bears, and horny toad lizards were just a few of the unusual things I was privy to see. Each time I saw something new, I would call my husband and tell him my experience with the new and exciting discovery. It was not until I started seeing things that were not normally in this area that my husband started to doubt my sanity. One day on the way to work, I swear I saw a wolf. Husband said it was a coyote. I said I know the difference between a wolf and a coyote. He said I was wrong and went on back to what he was doing. A few months later a news cast mentioned that the Mexican Gray Wolf had been spotted in the south central/east areas of New Mexico.  That is in our area.

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Next, I was going down to Walmart and saw a roadrunner by the ski area. Called husband again to tell him what I saw. He said at 9,000 ft in the winter snow, no less, you would not find a roadrunner. But yet there was that dang roadrunner crossing the highway. I was determined to prove to my husband I was not going crazy. I followed the car in front of me all the way down the mountain clear to the next town. I followed him until he parked in the parking lot of Wal-Mart. I jumped out of my car, rushed him and asked him if he saw what I think I saw crossing the hwy at the ski area.

“You mean that Roadrunner?” he asked with eyes as big as cantaloups.

“Hold it right there.”, I said excitedly.  I quickly called husband and said…

“Hold on I have someone here that saw the same thing I saw”

I shoved my cell at  the poor fellow that I had just accosted and asked him to tell my husband, who thinks I am going crazy, what he saw. The poor fellow was so nice he says “Hello?”. For a minute there, I think he thought I was crazy too. He did tell Hubs there was a roadrunner at the ski area in the snow. Then he gave me my phone back and backed away slowly. He did not turn his back to me until 20 ft. before the automatic doors. Yep, I think it is safe to say he thought I was crazy too.

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Then one day, I was headed down the mountain again. I got to the bottom and noticed a junk shop. You know the kind, junk everywhere and everything for sale. I was walking up to the door and noticed a dog. I leaned over to pat him and heard…”Hello” ” Whatca gona buy?” I look around and see NO ONE but the dog. The dog was just laying in the sun. His tail wagging and tongue hanging out. DANG! maybe I am going crazy. About that time, I heard, “Go on in.” This time I really start to look around. I am looking for anyone, for a speaker system or one of those rock speakers…you know the kind they put around the pool to deliver music to all that are swimming. NOTHING! I slowly go inside. All at once I notice a bird, a BIG bird. It was a crow. The biggest crow on the face of the earth. I get inside and decide to take my chances. I ask the guy inside if he knew he had a talking crow…A BIG TALKING CROW. He said yes but it was not a crow. He tells me it is a Common Raven. Turns out he found it years ago when it fell out of its nest. He could not bare to leave it to the elements so he brought it home and raised it. Somewhere along the way it started to pick up words. He said it knew about 50 plus word to date. I thought, OH BOY, what will husband think of this?   I decided to not say anything until I got home. I later told Hubs, in an eerie whisper 😉 ,  “A Raven spoke to me today.” Man oh Man, that was it for him. He thought I really had lost my mind. I explained the whole thing, but I am not sure he believed me. And after that, I decided to not tell him my further discoveries.

Who knew a Raven could speak? NOT THIS CITY GIRL!

Until next aMusing Monday

aMusing Mondays: This Ain’t Yo Mama’s Dance

I write for the webcam in our little village.  This story was one I wrote back in the peak of our dry season and posted for the webcam blog.  Originally, it was called The Dance but I thought I would shake it up a bit with a different title.

I can not tell you how long it has been since we have had rain. Days would be an understatement it is more like nine months. I remember a few years ago, back around 2006, we had a pretty good dry spell too. A handful of us gals decided to try a rain dance. We had a designated time, we decided to do it in our own back yards and…. we were  to do it naked!.

WHY???

I don’t know but that was the deal. You had to follow these decisions to the T or, as I was told, “To the T or don’t do the dance at all.”  We were convinced it would only work if we all did it and followed the criteria to the letter. The dance was not choreographed nor rehearsed. You might say we decided  to do an interpretative dance. I remember thinking, “What the heck am I DOING?”, while I was stomping my feet and throwing my hands in the air.  My normally covered places were now exposed and wiggling in the wind.  My arms were waving and I was chanting, “Come on, come on and make it rain!”, over and over and over again. I felt so foolish.   My dogs thought I had lost my mind but they liked it. They were running in circles chasing each other in the dark of night and barking up a storm. Thank goodness my neighbors were gone. The whole time I was wondering if everybody else was doing it or if any moment they were going to jump out and punk me. The one thing we did not decide was how long we were to do this naked rain dance. After what felt like LONG ENOUGH, I grabbed my robe and ran inside, dogs in tow. A few days later the rain came. It rained and rained. It rained so much that parts of the mountain flooded. In fact, I had a rather large river running through my front yard even parts of the highway had to be closed because of the run off. It was strange to say the least. That following winter was a good snowy winter as well. I would have to say that the nude rain danced worked.

Now here we are again. No rain in sight and nothing on the radar. One of the original organizers called the other night and stated we need another rain dance. Same rules as last time…and to be followed to the T or it just won’t work. Last night at 9:00 p.m. I tipped toed out the back door. My dogs were not invited this year because my neighbors were here most of the week and I was not sure if they had left yet. I preferred no one witness this crazy woman trying to do her part for all her forest neighbors. Nine o’clock struck and I began to dance as before. Right as I started, I heard an eerie  noise creep up behind me. I could not see a thing because my eyes had not had a chance to adjust to the moonless night.  All I could think of was a coyote or bear or some other kind of wild animal breathing on my bare legs! That crazy thought soon became a reality.  Not only could I feel it, I could hear its steady breathe…in out…in out.   I stood there frozen, naked and night blinded.  I gave myself a minute to adjust to the darkness then slowly turned around.

MY DOGS!

My dogs had slipped out through the dog door and were waiting for their dance invitation, which I was happy to give after I made sure my neighbors were gone. Those little happy brown eyes and wagging tails were just so cute I just could not refuse them. We started slowly then worked our way up to a full-fledged rain dance! The dogs were in heaven running in circles and barking. We were having a pretty good time. It felt oddly freeing and if it paid off like last time very rewarding. I felt no embarrassment in the cloak of darkness and no one else was around… until look up to see Hubs shadow moving toward the window. Oh no, he is going to think I have lost my mind, again. He knew that us girls were going to do a rain dance but he had no idea that we were doing it naked. In all our dancing fun, the dogs and I had worked our way up the hill and out further in the field than I had planned. I had not noticed that until I had to race for my robe by the door. I had to get to it before he turned ON the Porch Light! I believe my dogs thought this was a race to end all races. Mutt must have felt I was winning because she moved her body right in front of mine and over I went like a slinky down the stairs, or in my case down the hill.  Ouch! I had to have rolled and bounced because I was on my feet in a split second and in full stride.  Thank God for padded cabooses.

WHAT WAS I THINKING?

Finally I get to my robe, compose myself, pulled the sticks out of my hair and walked in as if nothing happened. When I walked in, Hubs asked, “Did you do your dance at 9:00?” “Yes”, I said then went to wash my wounds. While tending to my skint knees, I ‘decided’ if called upon next year I will  pass on the dance. I think I better leave that to the younger braver ones.  I just hope that this year’s effort will bring the rain again.

Until next time

update: 1 week after our dance it RAINED.