This is one of my favorite parts of the season - sweet Clementines! I think I ate three yesterday. I just love ‘em! Check out the crate, they’re a product of Morocco. Doesn’t that somehow make them tastier? I imagine a sun-drenched clementine grove in a desert oasis, beautifully tiled fountains and buildings, open markets with pyramids of these little darlings….if only they could talk. What’s your story, delicious Clementine?
Dear Wilbur and I just came in from a very quick morning romp and it’s just six degrees above zero outside! The hens are still basking in the winter house. Can’t say that I blame them. There’s no sense coming out to peck at the frozen ground when you’ve got hay and heat in your chicken condo. Wilbur took care of his business in record time and practically leaped into my arms to go back inside. I’m running a sissy farm here. Guess Wilbur won’t be making the Iditarod team this year. He doesn’t seem too concerned about it. He’s busy licking the wall. He’s tasting a spot about eight inches off the ground, there can’t be residue from anyone’s hand there….what gives? He’s weird. Cute, but weird.
I turned the news on and it was nothing but the weather and Tiger Woods. The weather is more interesting. If Mrs. Woods is smart she’ll take half the money and all of his genitalia (apparently the two things he loves most) and thank him for the lesson. What a jerk. As for the weather, I always find it kind of funny when the news channels act like they’ve just broken a big story when winter acts like winter. This just in - it snowed in December! I like a heads up when temperatures are about to bottom out or conditions may be dangerous, but for the most part don’t we all expect cold and snow in the winter? I don’t know that it needs to be beaten to death by every perky news anchor. Gee, guess who woke up cranky today? I need to adjust my attitude and I think a hot shower and a cold Diet Coke will probably do the trick. First I think I’ll take Wilbur T out to see the chickens and chat with them for a bit. Maybe the bite of the cold air will stimulate my brain. Can’t hurt. I’m trying to stay out of the kitchen, even though I broke down and made chocolate chip cookies yesterday. When the weather turns cold I just feel that I should have pots bubbling. No,no I will take the chubby pug outside and run him around and let him blow off some of that puppy energy. I’ll have to break up the fight he’s having with a garden glove, but I think it may be time for an intervention anyway.
I’ll be back with a better attitude…..
We think that Wilbur may have a crack problem.
We’ve been lied to. Those breeders did not sell us a pug, they sold us a goat. Wilbur will eat anything. Puppy chow, cat chow, a leaf, a tin can, the sofa, ribbon, a pillow - nothing is safe. I know that having a puppy in the house is much ike having a toddler around, and this is why women my age don’t have babies. Well, shouldn’t have babies. At least I can put Wilbur in his kennel and take a shower, run the vacuum, or go to the store. Babies don’t take to being locked in kennels. He really is a good puppy, and right now he’s busy playing with his imaginary friend (we’ve named him Kevin) so he’s very little trouble. But I do worry about his digestive health if he continues to consume with abandon. I’m pretty sure he ate a wooly worm yesterday and I do not want to be around when it’s “processed”. I just put him on my lap and had a talk with him. I explained that he simply can’t gobble up everything that crosses his path. He gave me a kiss and then tried to eat my hair. Oh, Wilbur. I really can’t complain - he potties outside, he puts himself to bed and we don’t hear a peep all night, and he loves to cuddle. I guess if the downside is that he’s a canine garbage disposal I can live with it. The guys make fun of me because I’m always asking “What’s in his mouth??” with alarm. I’m constantly running my fingers through his mouth to clear out debris. He’s a bottom feeder. My fears are deeply rooted though. I had a childhood pet, just a mutt, that my father kindly named Booger. Booger’s life was cut short when he swallowed a whole pecan and I don’t want a repeat of Booger’s demise on my watch. Maybe I should practice doing the Heimlich on a pug. It might calm my nerves.
Just received my thumbs up from the garbage guy so I think I’ll pop the billy goat in his kennel and take a shower. Time to get this sunny, cold Thursday started. I’ve got a full day of Wilbur watching ahead. It’s a dirty job, but someone’s gotta’ do it.
Last year I told you about my nephew, Spencer, who had won a national oratorical contest. He won thirty grand speaking about our founding fathers and he also received a full scholarship to his first choice university. That’s a big deal. He’s currently preparing to leave in January for a semester at sea where his studies will take him to Hawaii, Japan, China, Viet Nam, India, Mauritius, South Africa, Ghana, and Brazil. Holy cow! But wait, there’s more. Last night in Baltimore, Maryland the American Flag Foundation honored two people with the Patriot Award. One was author, historian, and film maker Ken Burns. The other was my nephew, Spencer Harjung!! http://www.americanflagfoundation.org/
(scroll down to see his pic)
Cat said it was a beautiful reception and ceremony and that they had a wonderful time. As usual, Spencer took it all in stride and worked the room like a champ. His speech received a standing ovation and he made it all look easy. What a cool guy. The foundation had Spencer’s speeches bound and set up a table where he could sign copies for people. So there he was signing autographs along with Ken Burns. This is the same little blonde, blue-eyed boy who offered shy grins and an easy-going personality. When they were tiny Tyler had a hard time pronouncing his name and called him “Pisser”. Thank goodness that didn’t stick. Look at him now. I’m amazed at the young man that he’s become and I have no doubt that this is just the beginning of many adventures and awards that will come his way. I’m so proud of my awesome nephew!
If you missed his original speech - watch this:
http://www.youtube.com/user/alusma1976#p/a
Yesterday Mickey received more packages. He snatched them right out of my hands and took them into his office. Before I could quiz him he had those suckers wrapped. What the heck? He didn’t give me any snooping time at all. I think I should be allowed a small window of opportunity to do a little Christmas sleuthing. Spoil sport. But wait…..he brought his trash out and threw it in the kitchen can. Hmmmm. I laid low and played nice. I took a snack into his office with a big smile, then I took Wilbur outside to romp in the yard as if I didn’t have a care in the world. Some time later, assuming my dear husband was hard at work, I pounced. I was busy pulling out shipping labels and packaging from the trash when I heard a noise behind me. He’d busted me. I didn’t say a word, just smiled. He smiled back and said, “I know my girl. That’s why I put the packing slips through my shredder.” Dang it! Foiled again. Some people are determined to take the merry right out of Christmas. Bah Humbug. I hate waiting.
It’s getting very Christmasy around here and I’m getting nervous. I don’t know how much longer I can stay out of the presents. I’m playing Christmas music and trying to be good, but I’m alone with the tree and something bad could happen. I may have to plead temporary insanity.
Mickey is always adding something electronic to our lives. I no longer try to keep up with his gadgets and whatzits. We have 735 remotes for various boxes and I know how to use one of them. Life shouldn’t be that complicated. Recently he brought Roku into our lives. It’s another box. We use Netflix which I think is just dandy, but apparently wasn’t good enough. With this new box we can watch things instantly from the Netflix catalog or listen to any sort of music or control the weather. Okay, I made up that last part. I mumbled some remarks about how everything he brings into the house is designed to make us more sedentary but then he built a 70’s music channel for me and I grudgingly danced a little. Later I sat down to see just what Roku would do for me and lo and behold I found tons of workout DVDs that I can play instantly. I loaded several that I found interesting……and watched a pilates workout while I ate two mini Snickers. I think I’m going to check out a new fat-burning yoga workout, but I may need to pop some popcorn first. Hey, I may like this Roku thing after all.
Remember the luncheaon from last week? This is the name tag I was given to wear. Is that who I am now? I’ve always been known as so-and-so’s mother or wife. Now that my children are grown this is the label I get?? I can think of more fitting titles…Chicken Lover…Kitchen Dweller…Countess of Mulch…..Innocent Bystander. But Local Tennis Enthusiast? If by enthusiast they mean that for several years all of my time and money was devoted to the feeding, transport, and emotional health of several young players, then yes I’m an enthusiast. I guess I should just be happy that after nearly seventeen years they’re finally calling me a local.
The pug alarm went off at 5:20 this morning and by 5:23 Wilbur and I were outside greeting the day. It’s a soggy one, but still nice in a restful, gray sort of way. Tyler is off teaching a morning clinic at the tennis center, Mickey is in his office making sense out of chaos, and the puppy is snoozing in his bed. It’s a quiet day here on Olivia Court. I’ve taken a pound of ground turkey out of the freezer and my only goal for the day is to turn it into a simmering pot of chili. Just right for a rainy day.
I can’t figure out how Monday’s entire post disappeared. It was pretty boring so maybe it was flagged by the FDA for causing drowsiness and they had to take it off the shelf. Alien abduction? Hope they weren’t searching for intelligent life. Either of those theories make as much sense to me as the magic internet. It’s easier for me to accept the tale of The Shoemaker’s Elves than it is to understand how the internet works. But, like most things in life - I don’t need to understand it to enjoy it.
Yesterday I wrote about the monstrosity of a garage that our neighbor is building for his motorhome. It’s hideous. I hate it. Mostly because it’s so ugly, but also because it’s messing with my crime stopping activities. Because I enjoy true crime shows and read far too many murder books, it’s only natural that I like to make note of anything unusual that happens. It’s always possible that I might be called as a witness in a gruesome case and provide that key piece of evidence that puts the puzzle together for the prosecution. Okay, so I’ve given it way too much thought. But it could happen. Anyway, we live in an area where we’re as likely to hear the echo of a hunter’s gun as a kid’s firecracker - sound really carries across Farmer Layne’s field. So when we hear what sounds like the pop of a gun we tend to yell to each other, “Shots fired - 1:15” or whatever the time may be. It’s just a joke, but with that stupid garage going up and rivets being fired into metal every few minutes - well, I can’t keep up. Someone could get away with murder because I’m off my game.
I had the pleasure of popping into the Gladeville post office yesterday. It was busy for a Monday and Ramona was handling the three person crowd like a champ. I was in line to drop off Cat’s birthday box and a lady came in, took a look at the “line” and muttered, “I’ll come back tomorrow”. That made me giggle. Apparently in Gladeville the adage “three’s a crowd” is really true. I was in and out in a few minutes and in the time that it took to play one Christmas carol I was home. I took dear Wilbur out for a potty break just as the UPS truck pulled up with more packages for Mickey. He’s bringing them in faster than I can ship them out. We have the nicest UPS man. He came across the yard to chat a bit and I introduced Wilbur who cranked up his cuteness factor for the visitor. We had just gotten to the point in our conversation where I asked the obligatory, “They keepin’ you busy?” when Mr. UPS said, “Are you doing something different with your hair?” Ladies, you know that your husband is doing too much online shopping when the UPS man notices that you’re letting your hair grow. Or maybe he’s a frustrated stylist itching to give me a makeover. Either way he’s a welcome visitor. He doesn’t stay long and he never shows up empty handed.
I have to admit that one of the boxes was mine. I ordered another polygamy book. I can’t wait to get started. Maybe most people wouldn’t consider “Cult Insanity: A Memoir of Polygamy, Prophets, and Blood Atonement” a great bedtime story (the odds are slim that everyone will live happily ever after) but I think it’s just the thing for a drizzly December night. A rainy night, a feather bed, and sister wives….what’s not to like?
I think I’ll turn on NPR and spiff up the kitchen floor. I need to chop an onion for the chili and I’m pretty sure that Wilbur could use another trip outside. That’s my idea of a darn good day. Have I mentioned how very much I love being at home? I’d rather be queen of the laundry room than a captain of industry any day. Not that there’s any danger of me being a captain of industry. Or even captain of a boat for that matter. Or a team. But you get my drift. I’m exactly where I belong, doing what I love. Feeding men, training a puppy, counseling chickens and solving crimes. I love my happy, simple life. I think I’ll take Wilbur out to the garden and give the thankful rock a rub. I’m one lucky duck.
I posted a lengthy entry about our Monday and *poof*, it disappeared. I’m going to see if I can retrieve it from outer space or if it’s gone for good. There may be cussing involved.
Five deer stopped by to nibble on our greenery. I didn’t open the door because I didn’t want to scare them off - but it really made me wish I’d cleaned windows last weekend while the weather was nice. Just pretend that you’re gazing at them through a morning mist….and not through a smudged window at two in the afternoon.