Let's Talk About Dogs

I love dogs.

I know, this is no surprise to anyone who knows me!  I think dogs are just about the most wonderful things God made.  I love how cute they are when they nap on the couch.  I love how they joyfully dance around the kitchen on pancake mornings.  I love how they run out to greet me when I come home.  I love how a treat will entice them to do anything.

Except, maybe, a tiny bit less love for them when they turn into a pack of wild monsters every single day the mail man comes by.

That poor guy.  When we first got Emma, he would come inside our fence to deliver packages.  He would pet her and we would chit chat.  Then we got a second dog.  Little less chit chat.  When the third dog joined our gang, our mail man started throwing our packages into the yard and letting the pieces fall as they will.

After much thought and quit a bit of worry over Fed Ex guys getting nipped at, we changed the way our fence wraps around our house.  Instead of the race track circle the girls used to run around and around our house, now it is a decided C shape, with the newly built fence (and gates) completely cutting off their access to the front door and the side door.  They can chase each other halfway around and no further.

It was kind of funny the first time they came racing up to the newly built gate.  Their eyes puzzled, their noses sniffed it and sorted and couldn't find an answer to how to get through it, so they gave up and went back the way they came.

But even better was how much our mail man appreciates the dog safe zone!

Growing Pains

There's growing pains,
And then there are growing pains.

The slight bump of new life
The twinges and aches as parts of you move
To accommodate parts of him
Stretching, swelling, expanding
Until you think you'll pop

Yet that can't compare to
The wrenching tugs on your heart
Watching your beloved baby
Now so grown up and determined
Jumping head first
Without looking, without blinking, without pause

There's growing pains.....
And then there are growing pains.

Inspired by prompt #2 at Mama's Losin' It!

Sponge Shudders

I have a soul deep abhorrence of sponges being used for dish washing.  There is something about them that I find repellent beyond all measure.  At home, I use a wash rag for dishes.  It is changed at least once daily and washed in scorchingly hot water to sanitize it.

But a sponge?  It just sits there in all of it's stagnant glory.  I've heard it can be microwaved, but really, since the sponge I hate most is in the office break room, which one of my co-workers is going to be responsible for microwaving it?  That's right.  No one!

So I stick with my personal coffee mug and I joke about why I keep it separate from the rest of the mugs and I wash it out at the end of the day, with hot water, soap, and a surprisingly hardy paper towel, all the while that nasty sponge drips on the edge of the sink.

*Shudder*

Our Standing Date

Since the start of lawn mowing season, my daughter and I have started a tradition that we follow to such absolute, that people have noticed.  We are expected to show up at a certain  place at a certain time, every week.

Monday, I come home from work, I mow the lawn.  I get hot and sweaty and a little emotional because when I'm mowing the lawn I tend to think introspective thoughts and sometimes that hurts a little.  So I come in the house, turn on all 3 bedroom fans, blast myself with cool breezes before I feel human again.  

Then we go go out to our favorite Mexican restaurant.  

I don't need to celebrate TGIF.  I need to celebrate ISM (I Survived Monday)!  And also, I hate mowing the lawn.  The chips and salsa are my reward.

So every Monday night, my daughter and I sit in the air conditioned restaurant, eating our favorite meals, and talk about our day.

The only good thing about it being so dry and the grass not growing: I don't mow on Monday and I don't miss our date night quit so much while she is France!

The Garner Files

***In honor of one of my favorite actors, I am reposting something I wrote in 2012.  

James Garner will be missed.***

If you've read this post from the past, then you know I love James Garner.  

And now that I've read The Garner Files, I love him even more!

A good autobiography needs to include interesting anecdotes: check.
And a handful of intimate details you weren't sure you wanted to know about your hero: check.
It should also have a collection of fascinating photos that you can't help but look through before you start reading, several times while you are reading, and just a few more looks after you read the last line: check.
It should inspire you to revisit the movies and shows that made you a fan of your favorite actor in the first place: check.
If it also pulls at your heartstrings and grows your admiration of the man behind the actor, then it is a darn good autobiography!

And in chapter eleven, when he says my favorite movie, Murphy's Romance, is one of his favorite movies....and devotes 4 pages to it and includes the dialogue from the last scene which he considers one of the great love scenes ever which I quite agree with, then, this book is going on my must read again list.

Grocery Store Surprises

I got carded tonight at the grocery store.  I was surprised; I've been through this guy's line a hundred times.  I wasn't expecting it and I had to dig an embarrassing long time to find my ID.

After checking my date of birth, he asked how my day was going, other than not expecting to be carded.  I laughed and said it's been good, and now surprising.  He went on to say he really was surprised to see how old I was.  He never would have guessed.  I blushed furiously, hot and blazing red, partly due to being embarrassed and partly due to being pleased.

He said he thought maybe 29, but young enough he wanted to make sure I was legal.

Well, thank you very much, kind sir!

I'm going to be 40 next month.  I say that with pride.  I have never felt better, happy, more at ease with myself.  I'd pick 40 over 29 any day of the week!!

New Discoveries

I have often said I am not a huge fan of ice cream.  I'm not saying I hate it, and there are even hot summer evenings that I crave it, but over all, I wouldn't miss ice cream if it disappeared from the world.

Now, mashed potatoes is entirely different.

I am currently embarking a new adventure in my life: my husband is back at sea, my daughter is spending the summer in France, my son has moved out, so it is just me and the dogs living alone.  I stay up too late reading, I get up early to walk in the cool peacefulness of dawn, I laze about on the couch listening to classic country music just a little too loud, I eat huge salads every night for dinner, and for dessert: mashed potatoes.

I know, it is not a dessert.  But I would take a bowl of potatoes over a bowl of ice cream any day!  So after I eat my hearty salads, full of fiber, protein and lightly dressed with a light vinaigrette, after that I treat myself to a bowl of mashed potatoes.

As I was savoring them, licking the spoon and making sure every speck was consumed by me, I thought, this might be weird.

And then I thought, eh, who cares?  I love them!