Dragons in the kitchen....

I just thought this was too damned funny.....

Words for my Tombstone

Because I will probably carry them to my grave.
dude.
bummer.
I have consciously attempted to expunge these two words from my vocabulary, but failed.
CoolChange posted up about some music from his past, which happened to be from my past as well.
"Dude" came out in my comment. I gritted my teeth and tried not to do so. I couldn't help myself.
bummer.

tell me I am not alone...

Gotta Love Brittish Humor

This so funny.  A little gross....  but funny!

Overheard in email.........

Okay, the reason  behind the whole 'my hubby is not a wingnut' thing is as follows via email:

Me:  I saw your post (about Borepatch being right) it was good....  did you see mine (about my Tin Foil Hat)
Hubby:   Yes I saw it, it was good.  Try not to make me look too much like a wingnut
Me:  Okay....   go look at the blog now.......

Image is everything you know........   

Funny, but a little sad

This says it all

Miss Kitty Breaks the Sound Barrier

Today, I was sitting on the couch and suddenly the sky opens up and it started pouring down rain.  It was like someone dumped a giant bucket of water over the house it was so heavy.

Suddenly I heard a boom (all within seconds) and Miss Kitty shoots through the kitty door.  Okay so it probably wasn't a sonic boom but thunder.

She makes it inside and of course, she's soaking wet and looking madder than a wet hen cat.

Naturally I couldn't help myself and I laughed.  I think that even the dog was amused because she immediately went to the cat and started circling her, checking her out.  I swear I thought I saw a smirk on the dog's face.

What exactly does my butt look like anyway?

Apparently that's what Miss Kitty was trying to find out last week.

We have a new coffee table which has a glass top and the hubby tells me that Miss Kitty was sitting close to the edge of it, leaning way over and looking up at her own ass.

Guess she was curious.

Herding Hermit Crabs????

Shortly after my better half and I were married, he bought me an Australian Cattle Dog, otherwise known as a Blue Heeler.  His name was Patch.

That was my darling boy.  He was a very loyal companion, though a little obsessive.  I could not walk out of the room without him following me, and I couldn't walk across the room without his watching my every move.

He was very protective and his herding instinct was great.  He would herd the kids and try to even herd me, though asserting my dominance early on, he knew better than to do that often.  He was probably one of the most intelligent dogs that I've ever known.

Over at Lagniappe's Lair there are great stories about Murphy the beautiful German Shepherd.  More specifically, about Murphy's recent swimming adventures.

This of course reminds me of Patch and his love of the water.  It's a bit unusual for a herding dog to love water like that, but Patch really did.

We would be down at the creek and Patch would get hot and decide to go for a swim, or simply lay in the creek.  If I went kayaking, I had to really be careful because Patch would almost always swim out to my boat and try and follow me.  I didn't want him to tire out, so I would have to send him ashore and tell him to stay, which he would, reluctantly.  He didn't like that though, especially once I got out of his sight, but he would sit there and wait for me to return, ever so faithfully.

The first time that the hubby and I took Patch on the boat and to the cut, (where the end of the creek meets the Gulf of Mexico), he loved it.  He was about 5 months old and in short order proved himself to be just like his mommy (me) a salty dog.  We are called salty dogs because the salt water is in our blood and we are drawn to it and we thrive in it.

So, we beached the boat and as I was setting anchor, Patch jumped out of the boat.  He ran up and down the beach, in and out of the water, chasing and biting at the waves.  He was having a grand old time until he noticed something funny in the water that looked they were lost.......   about 20 hermit crabs walking along the bottom.

Patch, being the helpful pup that he was, was in water up to his chest, and yet he dunked his entire head, eyeballs, nose and ears (well the tips were still out of the water) under the water and gathered up each hermit crab one by one and piled them up on the shore.  Once he had the vast majority of the poor things, he laid down behind his pile of displaced crabs and watched them.

After a few minutes, the crabs, thinking that the coast was clear, would come out of their shell and start to make their escape back into the water.  Patch would immediately jump to his feet and give them a little bark, which would drive them back into their shells.  Every now and then, Patch would get distracted and one would make his escape and would get almost to the water.  Patch would run and scoop him up in mouth and bring him back.

He was something else and every now and then, I miss him terribly.  About three years ago, I had to put Patch down because he snapped at my grandbaby and I wasn't going to take the chance that he would bite her.  He was starting to even get cranky with me so I had to make the hardest decision of my life.  He was 10 years old but I will say that he did have a very good life.  He was loved.

So full of win and hilarity

My better half stumbled on The Adaptive Curmudgeon's 'about' page.  It is the funniest thing that I've read in ages.  I really enjoy his blog but this statement,
"As we all know, blogs are commonly used only to help restrain an author’s illogical desire to stand curbside spouting unrequested opinion."
It just really tickled me.

The Honeymoon is over.....

As my better half informed you all, Miss Kitty ran off Romeo when I went outside the other night.  Because my man was not there, he could not give you the funnier details of the whole thing.

I was sitting on the couch surfing the web when I could hear the growling, hissing and spitting going on outside in the back yard.  At this point, I know that either Romeo or Casanova was outside once again trying to woo Miss Kitty.

I peeked out the window and sure enough it was Romeo, in the grass looking up at his Juliet on the table top which is attached to the grill.  His Juliet was none too happy at this annoying, horny Romeo bothering her, yet again.

I decided that the best way to intervene was to open the back door and chase Romeo off, what I didn't expect was Miss Kitty to leap her Rubenesque (Miss Kitty weighs 15 pounds) body over the grill, into the grass and end up hot on his heels.

The chase was on, Romeo whom I've decided is none too bright, ended up trapped in front of the shed, by the rose bush.  Not even a second later, Miss Kitty was on him, claws out, fur flying.  Poor Romeo didn't know what hit him.

Eventually, Romeo broke free and hauled ass up and over the wood fence.  Miss Kitty was standing guard growling that low, don't fuck with me growl, Romeo no doubt shaking in his puss'n boots.

Isn't love grand?  Ha!   I think it's safe to say that the honeymoon is over.

Dive bombed.......

I had pulled into the neighborhood on my way home from work today when I saw this poor cat walking along the sidewalk being dive-bombed by a nesting mockingbird.

Mockingbirds are the Texas state bird, not sure why we chose the mockingbird, other than they are, by nature ornery and very territorial.

That poor cat was trying to get away from the diving bird and all I could do is laugh as it reminded me of a time I had with my dad.

My father loved a good prank, he pulled numbers on everyone.  If you knew dad, there was no escaping a prank from him.  Even if you were a cat.

My mom's cat, Corkey was walking across the street and was getting dive-bombed by, you guessed it, a mockingbird.  Dad and I were in the front yard sitting in lawn chairs, laughing as poor Corkey was trying to escape the birds.

Finally, the cat makes it to cover, which unfortunately for him, was under my dad's lawn chair.  With a twinkle in his eye and a wink, daddy got Corkey out from under the chair and hauled him back out to the street and ran away laughing.

Poor Corkey had to escape the bird again.  At least he was smart enough to go under the car instead of dad's chair.

My dad was a character, but before you think that he was a mean person, just know that he was an amazing man who loved his family and loved his friends.  I cannot think of a single person that knew my dad that didn't like him.  He passed away in 96 of cancer and there's not a day that passes by that I don't miss him.

Karma

It's been a while since I've told a story here and considering the doom and gloom that is happening in the world today, I think that we could all use a little diversion.

I am a sucker for a lost or stray animal.  Every now and then, there will be a dog that has gotten out of his yard and I always feel compelled to get the dog to safety, bring it home, and then track down its owner.  Of course this is a very annoying trait of mine and my hubby will confirm that he gets annoyed when I do that.

One day, about 7 or 8 years ago, my neighbor's toy poodle, Turbo, got out of their yard and was just sitting on their front porch barking to get inside.  I went over to their house and knocked on the door, there was no answer so like a good neighbor, I brought Turbo home and waited for the neighbors to get home.

Turbo, for some reason fell in love with my youngest daughter, who was 8 or 9 at the time.  He followed her all around the house and every time she sat down, Turbo would start humping on her leg.  My youngest was getting fed up with it and I was busy trying to keep myself from laughing out loud.

Finally, enough was enough and my youngest yells at the top of her lungs, "MOM!  Can you PLEASE get this dog away from me!  He has fallen in love with my leg!"

My son, who at the time was 10 or 11, said to her, "Well Sis, that's Karma for you!"

Without missing a beat my daughter yells, "KARMA!!!  What do you mean KARMA?!  I've never humped anybody's leg!!!!"

Out of the mouth of babes.  I don't know what impressed me more, her quick wit (she takes after her mother, ha ha) or the fact that she actually knew the meaning of the word Karma.

Kids have a way of expressing themselves that can sometimes really make you either laugh or say, "huh?"

Curiosity Killed The Cat... Well, Got Him Wet At Least

I was reading over at View From the Porch and found this little gem of an story .

Her story talks about her cat, Huck who seems to be playful and fun and a bit curious. Huck the cat, reminds me of a cat that I had years ago named Angus.

Angus was a sweet boy and very curious about everything, especially about folks taking a shower.  He would sit on the corner of the tub and watch as someone showered.

Every day, I would shower and Angus would sit there and watch.  After a while, he got curious about the shampoo and conditioner and would walk along the skinny edge of the tub against the wall, over to the other corner and sniff the shampoo bottles.  He did this numerous times safely.

One day, while feeling rather cocky, Angus decided to check out the shampoo and as he was inching his way over to the other side, he slipped and fell into the water.  I never knew that cats could move so fast, but it sounded something like, "splash! mrrrreoooowwww! swooooosh!"

It was really pretty dang funny.

Poor Angus was killed about 15 years ago by a couple of dogs that had gotten out of their yard.  Luckily, I didn't kill my neighbors, or their stupid dogs.

God My Ass is Cold Part 2

About a month ago, I told a little story about my first ski trip and promised another part to that story, about my first trip on the big kids’ run filled with excitement, humor and all around fun.  Well, I don’t know if it’ll be all that, I mean, what could be better than wrasslin a 60 pound outboard motor, but I’ll do my best.

So the husband and I were on our honeymoon and I had taken a little spill down on the bunny slopes.  I discussed the parts of a crash, the mental, the ‘oh shit’ moment, then the actual crash itself.  Of course what always follows that is embarrassment and in some cases tears, whether the tears are from being injured or embarrassed depend on the severity of the fall.

After taking the spill down below, the husband and I decided to go ahead to the top of the mountain and ski up there for the rest of the day.  We got on the lift and went up to the top and skied to mid mountain for a few hours.  There wasn’t a lot of snow, as it was early in the year and there was a drought happening.  We ended up having to take a blue (intermediate) run called West Fork but it was a nice wide run so I could traverse the mountain well enough to get by without falling on my rear or worse my face.

A few hours later, my confidence level was up (amazingly, I am a natural skier) and so was my appetite, so we decided to ski all the way to the base of the mountain and grab a bite to eat and possibly an adult beverage before heading back up to top off a wonderfully perfect day of skiing.  We took this green (beginner) run called Demon Run which was kind like a very wide half pipe.  It was a long straight shoot with really high walls.

I was skiing down Green Demon and was doing well, but I was going a little fast and the ski patrol guy yelled at me so, in trying to slow down, I turned my skis sideways and shot straight up the wall and into the trees.  I didn’t fall down, I was so proud, but was a little afraid of having to ski back DOWN that wall to get back to the run.  I took a deep breath and off I went, down the wall, back to the run where my darling man was waiting for me at the end of the run.

So we’re standing at the end of Green Demon where it turns into a blue run, also called Demon Run, so for the sake of this story, I will call it Blue Demon.  Now, before I go on with this portion of my story, let me explain that I learned after all of this that the color coded runs are not relative to skiing level, but relative to the mountain itself.  Green Demon, on a different mountain would have been Blue and Blue Demon elsewhere would have been Black (advanced).  That said…..

I’m standing there at the top of Blue Demon, looking down and thinking to myself, “Oh my God, this is STEEP!”  I looked up at my husband and said something akin to, “Are you crazy?”  He looked at me and told me to just follow him, and I will be fine.  Easy for him to say!  I’m looking down at a steep ‘bowl shaped’ slope, I’m NOT fine!

So off the husband goes and he, of course, made it look easy.  I took a deep breath and started down this nightmare of a run (remember this is my very first ski trip).  So things are going fine, I’m traversing the slope like a pro, but am beginning to pick up speed.  I keep trudging along and I get getting faster and faster, which makes me a little uneasy.  Suddenly, I hit a bump in the slope and my skis are airborne.  Now, it was probably only a few inches in the air, but might as well been a few feet.  Either way, my skis were in the air, NOT on the mountain!  I landed with relief only to immediately find myself in the air yet again.  This is where my mental crash started to happen.  I knew I was going to crash and I began to panic.

So, when my skis finally touched ground (only a second later, but felt like hours), I tried to hockey stop by turning my skis sideways.  This was the ‘oh shit’ moment, I came right out of my skis while dropping my poles all at the same time.  My body flies through the air and I land on my back, spread eagled and began to spin down the mountain, like a pinwheel on my back.

I’m looking up at the treetops, spinning above me while I’m digging into the snow with my fingernails (my gloves came off in the fall) trying to stop myself.  Finally, I stopped with my head down slope and my feet upslope.  I tilted my head up and could see these two guys gathering up all my stuff that came off me along the way.  My poles, my skis (which were together and perfectly perpendicular to the slope) and my gloves were all gathered up by these young gentlemen.

Meanwhile, I’m getting to my feet, my headband was all pushed back and my sunglasses were catty-cornered along my face.  I swear if I would have slid any further down that mountain, I probably would have ended up naked!

You might be wondering where my husband was during all this…  he was way ahead of me, waiting for me and realized that I had fallen down, but was the epitome of patience and concern, but knew that I was okay since I was standing up.

So the boys get to me and they’re in their 20’s and they say, “Are you alright ma’am?”  I sniffled, the tears flowing down my face and said, “Yes, I’m fine, I’m just really embarrassed!”  They said, “Oh no! Don’t be embarrassed, you looked really cool!  That fall was awesome!”

The youngsters helped me into my skis and assured me that I had made it down the worst part of the run, the rest was a piece of cake.  So, I nervously set out on the second half of the run, and yes that part was a piece of a cake.  We went and hand our lunch and I stayed in the bar the rest of the day having adult beverages.  I was NOT going back up that mountain that day!

Well, I went back the next day and we found an alternate route to the bottom of the mountain that had a few hairpin turns that you certainly didn’t want to miss as you would end up in the trees with a 3 foot drop, broken bones or sudden death assured.  Worse part about that run were the bare spots in it, but those were easy enough to miss.

It was a fun trip but my lesson learned is that I will not go so early in the season ever again!

Until Next Time

God My Ass Is Cold!!

So we just got off the pier and it’s a bit chilly.  My butt is what is equivalent to an icicle from sitting in a lawn chair out there.  There was an annual boat parade to be watched and the boat parade was nice, but small this year, no doubt a sign of the economy.

I can remember another time when my ass was as cold, it was on my honeymoon.  Now, before you think that it was a lame honeymoon, stop right there.  The honeymoon was awesome, just the outdoor activities left me a bit chilly at times.

It was my idea to go skiing despite the fact that I once swore that I would never strap two boards to my feet and slide down the side of a mountain.  So imagine his surprise when I suggested to my better half a Durango ski trip to celebrate our marital bliss.

Having only water-skied before along with ice skating, I had never been on snow skis.  In fact, I had never been in snow that deep before in my life.  I have to say that it was amazing to see the lovely white powdery blanket on the slopes.  Wait, did I say powdery?  I meant slushy man-made snow, as it was early in the year plus they were having a drought so they were making the snow.

I did what every beginner should do and took a ½ day lesson with a ski instructor.  I took to it very well and before long, I was taking that bunny slope like a pro (ha ha).  After my lesson was over, I went up to the restaurant and had lunch with the husband and afterward, we decided to go back down to the bunny slope before heading to the top of the mountain.

There was a little trail that led down there, which was called the ski-way.  It was a Snow Cat trail so it was very narrow and a blue (intermediate) run.  So, I ski down this thing and when I was almost to the end, I had to make a hard right turn as to not end up in the trees.

This is when I realized that there are two stages to a crash.  First, there’s the mental crash, then the actual crash itself.  I see the trees coming up on me very fast and my mental crash consisted of my panic and muttering ‘OH SHIT’.  I made the right turn beautifully and was home free when the second, “oh my god I can’t believe I made it” phase commenced.  This is where the true mental crash came and I yelled out my husband’s name and dropped my poles.  The dropping of the poles signaled the rest of my body that was time for the physical crash.  I went down hard and fast, but was unscathed, just a little shaken up.

So I was sitting there on the snow, thinking, “God my ass is cold” as I watched my wonderful man take the little ski-lift up to the top and ski down to collect my things.  I got back up and skied the bunnies a couple of times before deciding that it was time to brave the big mountain.

So that I don’t bore you to death with a story that is way too long to do justice in this post, I will stop here and pick up with a part two of this post in a little while.

Until then………….

I can see it now...........

You remember how when you were kids and you would play 'post office' or 'doctor'?

The new game curious kids will play will be, "Hey, wanna play TSA agent?"

Silly Falls and Motor Rasslin’

That’s motor wrestling for those of you who aren’t versed in redneck-speak.

My husband and I are down at the coast at the family house on the creek for a little weekend R&R and some fishing.  We hope that it’s a catching trip, not just a fishing trip, but either way, there’s nothing better.  We try to get down here at least once a month.  This house is very special to us since it’s the place where we spent the better part of our courtship.

This morning, I took the dog (Penny) outside to do her morning business.  The house is built on 12 foot pilings in case of flooding and so taking the dog out, requires a trip down the stairs.  This morning, that ‘trip down stairs’ changed from a travel type trip to a stumbling type trip and I’m lucky that I didn’t break my ankle considering that I missed the last step and stumbled to the ground, my ankle rolling forward.

Naturally, I had to stand up real quick and look around as if to say, “I meant to do that!” just in case anyone happened to be looking.  I dusted myself off and when Penny accomplished her mission, I went back upstairs and was reminded of another fall that I had about 12 years ago.

As I mentioned earlier, my husband and I spent most of our weekends at the creekhouse while we were dating.  The reason for that is that he has two kids and I have two kids and it was a good way for all of us to be together, and let the kids run and play and wear themselves out.

One weekend in particular, we didn’t have the kids with us so we decided to take the johnboat out on a fishing trip.  When we got back, we, of course had to clean up the boat and flush the motor and take the motor off the back of the boat (it was only a 14 HP motor with a tiller attached to it) and store the motor in the storage closet under the house.

Naturally, adult beverages were involved in this whole process, but I was really feeling the love that day and wanted to show my man that his woman can take care of herself.

So we flushed the motor with fresh water and washed out the boat so it was as pretty as a johnboat can be and my man goes to the storeroom to get the stand (or dolly, it had wheels) that the motor rested on.  At this point in time, KX59 (my man) was trying to hurry because he had a feeling what was going to happen next.

I don’t know what came over me, but I decided that I would lift the motor off the transom and walk it to the dolly, meeting KX59 half way.  Well back then, that portion of the driveway was made of limestone rock so there were a lot of large, loose rocks.  The motor wasn’t heavy, it only weighed 60 pounds, that was about half of my weight at the time.  The trouble was not just the terrain I was walking on, but mostly it was the fact that the motor had a long shaft so it was very awkward to carry.

So, I’m holding this motor, walking like a Geisha because that’s all that the long shaft will allow my feet to move; and suddenly I step on a large rock and all hell breaks loose.

First, I shout out KX’s name and then as creative and very skilled cuss words pass my lips, I begin to fall forward.  Not wanting to drop the motor, I pull it close to my chest as both my feet slide in an unnatural direction (skyward).  At this point, all I see is the ground coming at me and all I can think of is that I’m going to break the motor and I can’t afford to buy a new one! 

The motor hits the ground and I land on it.  It’s really more like I body slammed it and managed to knock every bit of wind out of my lungs and quite possibly crack a rib or two.  Meanwhile, KX59 has returned from the shed in time to see me falling down and immediately rushes to my side.

At this point, not only can I not breathe, my pride is crushed.  I rolled over onto the ground and I see KX’s face over me and I barely croaked out three words, “Don’t touch me!”  The pain that I was feeling felt like nothing that I had felt since I was a kid and fell out of a tree (a whole other story).  I felt like my lungs were on fire and I was all scraped up.

Eventually, the air came back to my lungs and we went upstairs.  I was fine, though my pride was not.  The motor was just fine as well, if not a little scratched up.

Love makes us do crazy things sometimes, doesn’t it?

Romeo, Romeo where for art thou, Romeo?

Yesterday morning, I stumbled out of bed and headed downstairs for my morning cuppa.  I hear this noise of scrambling and shuffling going on, and then I hear the pet door open and close.  I hurry to the back door and turn on the light to catch Miss Kitty’s boyfriend (who for purposes of storytelling, I have named Romeo) running quickly away from the house.

This tells me one of two things.  The first, that Romeo was inside the house and made a quick escape when he heard me on the stairs.  The second, Miss Kitty was outside and Romeo decided to try romancing her up close and personal and she hauled-butt in the house to get away.  Truth be known, it’s probably the latter, though the former would be much more of an interesting story.

With that in mind, I will convey how I think that it would have happened in each instance.

Scenario 1:  Miss Kitty waits on the back porch for her Romeo, who has braved the cruel world and brought 

her offerings of tidbits such as dead rats out of sheer devotion of his never ending love.  He makes it over the fence and meets her face to face, for the first time, no window between them.  His heart pounds as he sees his beauty; he follows her inside and they share a nice meal of kibble and fresh water.  Life is good, life is grand, he is in love.

Suddenly, he hears footsteps.  It must be that human monster-thing approaching!  He must leave his lady-love who is obviously held captive by these humans!  He tries to entice her out the door, but there is no time, the footsteps are growing louder, faster!  He makes it out the door just as the light comes on, he rushes off into the night, saddened that he could not steal his lady away.  Oh he will wait, yes!  He will bide his time and wait until he can see his love once more.

Scenario 2:  Miss Kitty is lounging about on the back porch taking in the early morning air.  It’s nice and cool outside and she really likes the faint scent of jasmine in the breeze.  Her tiny mind wonders about that other cat that keeps annoying her afternoon slumbers by peeking in the windows at her and then making a fool of himself by rolling around in the dirt!  Dirt!  The Horror of it!  Then of all embarrassing things, she has to hear her humans complain about picking up a rat that he left for her, obviously a temptation to get her out to the front yard.

Suddenly she hears a noise in the distance, an intruder but who?  It’s Romeo, the crazy feline!  What does he want?  Romance?  Love?  Fat chance, he’ll get the sharp end of her claws if he gets too close.  She watches as he sneaks around the side of the house, slinking across the yard.  He sees her, his heart is all pitter-patter as he rushes towards her, knowing in his heart of hearts that she appreciates his flirting and his gifts.  She hears her humans moving about the house, thankfully, and rushes in the house.  “Mommy save me!”

Romeo attempts to follow but doesn’t like strange doors.  He sits and studies it, but suddenly the light comes on and he runs into the night, fleeing for safety.  He bides his time, waiting for a chance to explore the house when it’s empty.  Maybe they’ll go on vacation soon……….

That story reminds me to be sure that we close off the pet door when happen to go on vacation.  At any rate, I hope that you’ve enjoyed my little scenarios, with obvious embellishment (though the basics are true).  Sometimes it’s fun to just be silly and creative.

Until next time.