Blog Archives

Another fun thing about the new car…

     I stopped at my regular gas station to fill up the new van, I was down to below a half a tank.  I pulled into the full service as I always do–I have a sensitivity to gas fumes that brings on a migraine.  The service man knows me and my old van, so when I opened my window and leaned out as he came around the back, I managed to surprise him.

     “Squeee, new van.”  I told him.

     “Nice one!”  He said.

     While the tank filled, I showed him all the neat features.  Funny how we all seem to point out the clock and how coolly elegant it is.

     You all have a good one!

Made a family collage…I miss them.

All in a day’s training

     Patience, practice, praise, and a few treats.  Carefully enunciated words accompanied with hand signals and praise, praise, praise when they get it right.  Well, sometimes you need to hold back on the praise because they get a bit too cocky.  That’s when you treat them instead.  Whatever you normally serve them is fine.

     You can use phrases like good boy and atta boy, especially when they accomplish something difficult.  There’s nothing like the way they look at you for approval when they do something they think is difficult–like putting the seat down on the toilet.

     Yes, we’re talking the training of husbands here not the dogs.  Even the most stubborn of dogs is much easier.

     You all have a good one!

Planters on the front porch this year…2012

Slow cookery–tasty!

 

     I love food cooked in my crock pot and wonder why I don’t do use it more often.  We had a lovely, tender and flavorful beef roast with all the trimmings last night. The Curmudgeon was one very happy camper.

     Last time I used the crock pot I made some pretty lousy apple crisp oatmeal.  I won’t be making that again.  It was the first thing I ever made in a crock pot that actually turned out bad.

     What I love about my Kindle is that I have downloaded a bunch of free cook books and that included several crock pot cook books.  Once the cool weather settles in here, I do believe the crock pot will get a good workout.

     Do you have any favorite crock pot recipes?

     You all have a good one!

 

Owie footie.

    I’ve heard of so many Bull Terriers dying over the past couple of weeks that it breaks my heart.  It also make me worry more and more about my sweet pups.  Gavin is now ten going on eleven and Patty is somewhere around the seven or eight year mark.

     Right now, Gavin has a very sore paw because he cracked another claw lengthwise…again.  He’s done this for what seems like forever.  He has always the weirdest claws of any BT I ever had or knew.

      Of course, we are spoiling him rotten, and doing our best to make him more comfortable.  As a typical Bullie he’s taking full advantage of the situation.

     You all have a good one!

“I is keeping my sore footie elevated…would you please cover me so I can nap?”

Bits and pieces

     Once in a while you run up against a person whose greatest desire is to make your day miserable.  One thing I like about Facebook is that I can delete such a person.  So much nicer than ‘real life’ isn’t it? 

     Now that Gavin has figured out how to snuggle with me on the new couch, he’s taken to scolding me if I’m not on the couch for him after dinner.  It’s a hoot.

     Patty can’t decide if she likes The Curmudgeon’s new chair or the couch more.  

     The days and nights are getting cooler.  We can almost turn the AC off completely.  It all depends on The Curmudgeon’s temperature tolerance.

Too tired to post…Enjoy the pics!

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Feminist? Damned right I am!

 

     Someone on Facebook accused me of me being a feminist.  I told him, “Honey, my Daddy raised me as one because he loved me, my four sisters, my mother, my maternal and paternal grandmothers, and all of his sisters.  He wanted each woman to have the respect due her.  He wanted us to have every advantage a man has.  My Daddy always told us we could be whatever we wished.  He said to reach for the stars and beyond.  He was proud of us.  He was proud of my rebel spirit.”

Please, go ahead and call me a feminist!  I find no shame in it, nothing derogatory, I revel in the name.

         One of my favorite quotes:

“We need to reclaim the word ‘feminism’. We need the word ‘feminism’ back real bad. When statistics come in saying that only 29% of American women would describe themselves as feminist – and only 42% of British women – I used to think, What do you think feminism IS, ladies? What part of ‘liberation for women’ is not for you? Is it freedom to vote? The right not to be owned by the man you marry? The campaign for equal pay? ‘Vogue’ by Madonna? Jeans? Did all that good shit GET ON YOUR NERVES? Or were you just DRUNK AT THE TIME OF THE SURVEY?”
Caitlin Moran, How To Be A Woman

 

Some of them are raised right.

     As is the case in the city, we seldom can find youngsters willing to help with the odd job or two around here that I haven’t the energy to do lately and The Curmudgeon can’t do.

     Yesterday, I was fortunate to find two young men interested in making some pocket-money.  I had reached the end of my energy and still had quite a bit of work to do.  Things were terribly overgrown outside my fence.  The boys walked away twenty dollars richer, full of root beer, and I was able to cool down and recharge.  I did ask them to come back from time to time because I was sure I could find things for them to do.

     It’s nice to know that there are still a few kids around who had parents interested enough in them to raise them right.

     You all have a good one!

Low and slow day

      I kept a low profile yesterday.  After not getting any rest at the hospital I needed some.  Of course, having two dogs who missed me, didn’t help in the getting some rest department.  LOL!  Oh, well gots to love the babies.

     “Mommy is home.  We can go out every five minutes?”  Gavin rings the bells to go out repeatedly.

      “No.”

     “We can have what you have?”  Patty and Gavin try to climb into my lap while I eat a yogurt.

     “No.”

     “We can both sit in your lap?”  They bicker for spot on me rather than next to me on the couch.

     “No.  Get off.”  I take inventory of all my new bruises.

     You all have a good one!

A picture of Gavin at 12 weeks of age…