What you see here are two naughty dogs. Why are they naughty? They sneaked cookies. Saturday we were baking cookies - lots of cookies. I don't have an excess of flat space in my kitchen so we put the trays of sugar cookies on the kitchen table to cool with a linen towel covering them. When I walked into the kitchen after taking Casper outside, I heard the clicking of little doggy toenails across the kitchen floor. During the day, the pups generally stay in the living room sleeping in various spots on the couch. I didn't think anything of it - nothing looked out of place. I stepped out of the room again for just a moment and when I came back in, Tipper had just jumped off a kitchen chair. The kitchen chair that was directly under the tray of cookies. I followed him and found Tucker with 3 or 4 sugar cookies under the piano bench. Knowing they were busted, they left the cookies on the floor, jumped up on the couch, and went back to sleep as if nothing at all had happened.
Friday, December 16, 2016
That could have been me. That could have been anyone. I love to drink beer, it helps dull my anxiety and my worries. But I have kids. I have grandkids. I have a mom. If something would happen to one of my kids, I would go to them in an instant. Regardless of whether I was sober or under the influence of a few beers. I would go to them. Any of them.
But what if I hurt or killed someone? What if I hurt or killed myself because of my drinking? Am I an alcoholic? I don't think so, I guess it depends on your definition. I know that for a couple of weeks after I made that decision to not drink again, it was really hard to drive past the bottle shop and not pick up a six pack. It was nearly agony over the Labor Day weekend to not have a beer and play the piano. It's been easier over the past few months. In fact, the only drink I've thought of is eggnog and then I remember my promise to myself and decide on a nice hot mug of tea.
It hasn't been easy - so much of our culture relates being social to hanging out and having a drink or two. Except that I know that if I allow myself to have just 1 drink, that will be the end. I am pretty sure that I'm seen as a bore at work - I like to be around my co-workers but they don't understand - nor would I tell them - that going to a wine-tasting or a local bar just can't be my thing anymore.
I feel so much better - my thoughts are clearer, my thoughts are clearer, I'm getting things done.
In other news, Dirt - the indoor turned outdoor turned indoor again cat - has moved into the bathroom and as a result, Sox the former bathroom cat, has moved onto the kitchen table.
Wednesday, December 14, 2016
This year, I’m not buying a Christmas tree and I am not cutting one down from our woods. We have a nice little fake cedar tree that I plan to set up in the living room and decorate. No one in the family really gets into decorating so I’m going to take advantage of decorating the way I like – white lights, red ribbons, some tinsel and other shiny stuff. I like to make it not-so-Christmasy because I like to keep it up throughout the dark days of winter.
I want to start baking too. Cinnamon crescents are my favorite thing to bake (and eat). They take some time to make but are so worth it. I’ll make the obligatory peanutbutter kiss cookies which disappear quicker than I can make them. I’ll hide a few to send to my son out west. I’ll make peanutbutter cookies – the kind I remember my mom making and are most excellent with a cup of good, hot tea, snickerdoodles which remind me of my little brother. Finally, I’ll make sniksnax – enough to last throughout the season.
I have just a few more things to finish making. Not everyone is receiving a tangible gift this year. Per a request, donations are being made to local animal shelters. This is in line with my belief that bitching and moaning helps no one but actually doing something for someone is the best. Animals can’t speak for themselves – it’s up to people to help when they can. So for that son out west, Pets Come First will be enjoying his Christmas gift. Except for his cookies.
Speaking of animals not being able to The cats don’t appreciate it and I’m sure it is frustrating for Casper. And I’m pretty sure that he is going to get clawed rightly by one of the rough and tough outdoor cats if he doesn’t knock it off. I think he learned early on to leave Sox, the bathroom cat, alone. Most definitely Sox could knock him flat if he wanted to. And Casper is a pretty large boxer.
speak, I really wish Casper could speak. Because I would ask him why he insists on humping the cats – or at least trying to.
Tuesday, December 13, 2016
So I am simple, I write simple, I think simple (not really). I write about what makes me happy. Sometimes I write about things that piss me off but more often, I write about happy stuff. I love to sew - I love to see, touch, and work with fabric. I love quilts because they are old and soft and keep people warm. I love my pets because they love me and they are sweet and innocent. I love Christmas because......I just do.
I read simple things. I like cozy mysteries, I like novels, I don't care for historical novels other than that set around civil war times. I love music, of all kinds. I love to play the piano just because I do. I'm not great at it and am only good at the music I like.
I don't like being around people who expect answers or conversation from me. I like being an adviser and answering those questions and helping students. I don't like talking. I do, however, enjoy listening.
I don't like feeling as if I have to explain myself in order to justify the way I operate. Like me or don't like me. I don't care.
My thoughts for today. Perhaps I'll be a bit more sophisticated when I am old.
Monday, December 12, 2016
The ducks do not sleep. They are never quiet. They lurk under the deck waiting for me to step outside and continue the neverending process of feeding the outdoor cats.
Not only do the ducks not sleep but they talk. A lot. Any time of night I can hear them outside quacking. It's amazing how incredibly loud a gaggle of six ducks can be.
At 4:00 in the morning, it is a sweet time to enjoy a good book, a cup of tea. And sometimes, the cacophony of ducks wishing each other a good morning.
Tuesday, September 27, 2016
Sunday, September 25, 2016
This is Sox. He is our orange tabby cat. He is, I figure, approximately 104 years old. Seriously - I can't even remember not having him. He is a peculiar little cat. First of all, he's not little - he's rather portly due to his appetite and his sloth-like level of activity.
About six months ago, Sox decided to move downstairs. He's spent the last few years living on the second floor with the kids. Apparently he liked having a warm body to cuddle with that wasn't also attached to a dog. But for whatever reason, Sox decided he wanted to hangout in the bathroom. I don't mind having him there - he's safe from the dogs, I can easily see if he's a little low on his Kit & Kaboodle cat food (anything else makes him puke). I do have to admit that it's a bit disconcerting to make a midnight trip to the bathroom and have a large cat jump on my lap when I'm not expecting it.
He likes to sit on the side of the tub. He sleeps on the tub rim in between the shower curtain and the liner. whenever anyone comes in to the bathroom, he jumps down, meows, and stares at his cat dish. It doesn't matter if both water and food are filled to the brim - you have to at least pretend you are filling them up or he won't leave you alone. Our bathroom isn't that large and sometimes having to dance around the ginormous Sox if I'm in a hurry is a bit dangerous.
Aside from having to step around Sox' girth from time to time, it isn't really too bad having a bathroom that does double duty as a cathouse. And for Sox, it is extremely convenient: he never has to worry about his cat food or water dipping below the half way mark.