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Enough snow already.

 

the pond is somewhere out there--follow the pawprints

     We’ve had quite a snowstorm come through here.  It finally stopped around 2 a.m.  I, being the fool that I am, went outside and shoveled.  I shoveled, and I shoveled, and by gum I shoveled some more.  I completed a 150 foot+ long by 3 foot wide path through snow about one foot deep.  (Okay, officially it was only 4 to 5 inches deep here but at 3 a.m. it sure looked like a foot of snow.)  It’s legal, I’m pooped, and I know I’m gonna feel it when I wake up.

     Dear Mother Nature,

     We have enough snow for a white Christmas, so when people are wishing for one, please don’t listen.  We have enough snow for sledding, so when the children ask for more, please don’t listen.  Since Dave so gleefully E-mailed me about let it snow, let it snow, etc.  IF you must dump more snow around here, please target Dave’s house and skip mine.  (Quit laughing Lee, you’re next on my list.) 

     Sincerely,

     MWH

By the way everyone, today is Elena’s birthday.  Happy Birthday E!

Have A Happy Holiday!

 

 

Whatever holiday you celebrate at this time of year we hope it brings you joy, warmth, wishes granted, and love.

With all our love,

MW, DH, Gavin, and Patty

To Bo-tax or not to Bo-tax that is the question

 

     I’m all for a tax on elective cosmetic procedures.  Don’t tell me that Botox injections and plastic er um fake tatas aren’t a luxury.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not talking about reconstructive surgery after breast cancer or some other problem that causes a real need. 

     I’m talking about when Mummsy and Daddy buy Muffy a new set of tatas for her sixteenth birthday because she absolutely can’t go through life with a 34B bust line and she’ll just die if she doesn’t have those 38DDs.  They’d be smarter to buy her a brain.

     I’m talking about when Mrs. Rich Bitch decides her 40 year old bust line needs to be as perky as nineteen year olds are so her hubby doesn’t find himself another piece of arm candy.  How about when Mrs. I’m So Vain’s wrinkle spackle isn’t working and she wants to Botox the hell out of her face?  Oh, hell yes tax her a$$.  Tax the elective procedures and use that money for good healthcare for everyone.

     Boobs sag, wrinkles deepen, and one should live with it.  It’s life.  It’s proof you’ve lived, loved, and have experience.  Get over it.

What if?…

 

     The hits on my blog have made incredible progress towards my 50,000 hits goal and making me the winner of the ‘dinner out bet’ with Dear Hubby.  So many hits in so short a time—amazing.

     This brings me to an even more exciting ‘what if’ scenario.

     What would happen if I reach out to all the wonderful people who have participated in helping me reach this particular goal when my books are FINALLY finished, sold, and published?  Will I sell enough books to make the best sellers list with my first book?  Will the publishers then decide to give me a multi-book deal?  Will more than two people want an autograph?

     The possibilities are endless.

Frozen ground and lots of rain equals a lake

 

 

     We now live lakeside and didn’t have to move or spend a fortune.  It rained all day and with the ground frozen, the rain had no place to go.  The yard is now a lake, and by this time of night, a frozen lake.  It’s a good thing that the rain stopped earlier tonight or the Koi might have had a chance to explore the grounds.  Knowing them, they would’ve camped out at the back door and waited for food.

     Patty doesn’t like wet weather so she only asked to go outside today when she absolutely HAD to go.  Gavin doesn’t mind rain, doesn’t like snow much, but the rain he tolerates.  He always wants to go out and gives the ‘go out’ bells a good workout every day.  Yes, there are days that I want to choke him with the bells.

     Bells ring.

     “You were out five minutes ago.  You peed on everything that is upright.  You don’t NEED to go out.”

     Bells ring.

     “You can’t possibly have to go.”

     Bells ring.

     “ARGH!  All right I’ll take you out.”  I put on boots, coat, hat, and we go out.  Gavin tinkles on the Tulip Poplar, barks at nothing but the wind, and heads for the door.  We go in.

     I take off my coat, boots, hat, and settle in front of the computer to work again.  I type one sentence.

     Bells ring.

     “You’ve got to be kidding.”

My muse is silent and my little editor has gone on vacation

 

     Sometimes when I sit down to write and that blank screen stares back at me my mind hangs out the vacancy sign.  What was it that I thought would be a good line?  Dang lost it.  Then there are times when I sit down at the computer and the words fly as fast as my fingers can type.

     This is not one of those great moments of flight.  I have to reach deep, drag each word out kicking and screaming, type them, delete them retype them.  Delve for new words.  Deal with interruptions—the dogs want out.  Oh, fun it’s freaking cold out there.  Get up, take one out, then the other, sit back down in front of the computer, and again stare at the screen.  Why did I write that?

     My muse is silent and my little editor has gone on vacation, most likely, he’s taken my advice and gone somewhere warm.  I feel a draft coming from somewhere.  Should I go hunt it down or sit here and work?  My brain says work my cold hands and feet say go look for the draft.  Instead, I brew another cup of tea and keep typing.

Snow then rain then snow then warmer then fog

 

     I do wish Mother Nature would make up her mind.  After all the weird changes in the weather the last couple of days, we’re supposed to get high winds and a drastic drop in the temperature tomorrow along with some sort of precipitation.  Of course, and why not?  That’s all we were missing was high winds and more cold.

     Patty doesn’t like cold, wet, or windy.  Gavin doesn’t like windy and cold.  I think tomorrow’s weather will cover all the bases.  At least that means the dogs won’t dawdle when they go out. 

     Neither Dear Hubby nor I like cold weather, but at least he feels better in it than he does in the heat.  I guess you could call that a small comfort. 

     The neighborhood angel shoveled our walk the other day.  It’s nice to have some return on the many years we shoveled all the neighbor’s walks.  DH worked a lot of middles and nights so we got the jump on the neighborhood and cleared the walks before anyone was up.

     95 hits on the blog yesterday!  That dinner out is looking good.  Thank you for stopping by.

The stats are climbing—is it dinner yet?

 

     I’m delighted to say that there were 108 hits yesterday.  Only 1259 hits to go!  Dear Hubby is truly sweating it. 

     Just so you all know, Dear Hubby happily made the bet with me, not only because I’m a cheap date.  But because he thinks it’d be great if my blog gets 50,000 hits before the end of the year.  This is a fun bet.  A win-win sort of bet.  I know he’ll be popping buttons off his shirt if this gets the hits.  He always says he’s proud of me.  (Even when I’ve out shot him at the range.)  He’s a very secure man.

     He’s supportive of my writing and is always ready to lend some expert advice when I need it.  He always has my back and I have his. 

     A big thank you to all of you who have stopped in to boost my stats.  Don’t forget to keep stopping by so I can make my goal!

     On another note, R is going in for knee surgery today and here’s hoping all goes well.  We are worried for him due to an underlying problem with his heart.

Another crazy Christmas display I wish I’d thought of putting up

 

What's all the hubbub?

You know darned well this display stopped traffic and caused a few problems.  Bet there were a few disgruntled neighbors too. 

 {Sigh} Why don’t I get these brilliant ideas? 

On another note I added 91 hits yesterday…mwahahaha the dinner out is getting closer!  Thanks to Linda of Crone and Bear it for sending her blog buddies over.  My dear, I do believe you have more than 8 readers.  Thanks to all of you who are clicking on this site to help me win the bet with DH!

Hoping to end the year with 50,000 hits

 

 

     With only a few weeks left to this year, I’m afraid I won’t reach my 50,000 hits goal.  (More would be even better.)  Well, so far it looks as though I won’t make it, at least, not without your help.  Hurry dear readers; tell your family, friends, and blog buddies to pop in for a peek.  Bribe them, sweet-talk them, and lie to them if you must.  I have a bet with Dear Hubby, there’s a dinner out riding on this.  Help me please—we don’t get out much. 

     How can I induce you?  Cuter dog pictures?  More talks with the editor on my shoulder?  More serious discussions on writing?  Arguments with my muse?  More dog stories?  Life with Dear Hubby and his MS stories?  Stories of me the super klutz and life with two BTs?  Have you any suggestions?  

     There are only two things I refuse to comment on—religion and politics.  I’ll leave that to other people since I created this blog for fun and I consider both subjects private.

That ain’t a bear!

 

That ain't a bear!

     A neighbor near the cabin where Dear Hubby and his friend are hunting had a wildlife camera set up behind his place.  You know, one of those out-door cameras with a motion sensor.  Two weeks before they left to go hunting, the neighbor sent the above picture to DH’s friend. 

     Wow, we had no idea they had mountain lions in the area.  DH’s friend takes his two dogs along with them, both are large, but I somehow picture them back pedaling when confronted by a kitty big enough to drag an eight-point buck out of the woods.

     We know they have black bears up there.  They had one on the back deck last year and the dogs barked at it through the door.  The bear “Frankly, didn’t give a damn” and moseyed off after staring at them for a while.   The two dogs would probably have to discuss the large kitty situation.

     Male: “You go ahead.  You’re bigger than I am.”

     Female: “I dunno I’ve never seen a kitty that big.  Hell, it’s bigger than you.”

     Male: “You know, I think it might even be bigger than you.”

     Female: “Did I hear the food dish rattle?  I swear I heard Dad put some food in there.”

     Male: “I think you’re right.  Let’s go back inside.  We can bark at it from there like we did that bear.”

My muse argues with me

 

     My muse taps me on the shoulder.  “Hey, you need to sit your butt in the chair and write.” 

     “I will, as soon as the dogs go out, the dishes are done, the bathroom is clean, the kitchen floor mopped, and I have a moment or two.”

     “No, no, no.  You need to do it now.”  She points to the desk.

     “Easy for you to say.  The dogs aren’t poking you, the dirt isn’t screaming obscenities at you, and the dust bunnies aren’t flipping you the bird and laughing.”  I stand with my hands on my hips and glare at her.  “If I sit down and work, are you going to clean for me?”

     “No, that’s not my job.”

     “Figures.”

     Gavin rattles his food dish.

     “Could you feed the dogs?”

     “Again, not my job.”

     I pick up the dog bowls.  Then I clean the water dishes, put in fresh water, carry the food dishes to the back porch, and scoop food into them. 

     “What are doing?  You said you’d sit down and write.”

     I point at the clock.  “The big hand is on twelve, the little hand is on five, it’s their dinnertime.”

     “Can’t they wait?”

     Gavin begins to scold so I have to yell over him.  “What do you think?” 

     Patty joins the chorus.  I hurry to stir warm water into their kibble so I can set the bowls down for them.

     My muse has covered her ears by this time.  “What?”

     “I said…oh, never mind.  I’ll see you sometime around seven.”