Escape Artist

24 Nov

That confounded dog is a source of constant amazement.

How he can remove his tags without disturbing his collar totally bewilders me.  So far, he has managed to lose two ID tags, a rabies tag, and two licenses. We only get a new tag every five years, and the county sends us a certificate saying he’s covered. When he lost the first one, I had to pay $5 for a replacement.

He lost that, too.

I stopped at the pet store and had a tag engraved with his name, our phone number, and the fact that he is microchipped. And repeated the process a year later.  We’ve gone out with the metal detector, but when you have two acres. . . well, there’s a classic lost cause.

It’s a darned good thing he can’t misplace that chip. Although it wouldn’t surprise me if he managed that!



Post Without Comment

19 Nov

One Thing Leads to Another

18 Nov

For the last month, The Squire and I have been telling each other we need to remove the air conditioner from the living room window. And today was the day! The unit isn’t all that heavy, but it is bulky, which makes it a two-man operation.

While he trundled the unit out to the barn, I took down the drapes and washed that window.  When he came back, we washed all five windows, and put the sheers aside to be washed. While the furniture is pulled out from the wall, we figured we might as well go ahead and clean the floors, and I suppose we’d better run the vacuum while we’re at it.

The cat had scattered litter all over the laundry room, so that needed to be swept up – might as well clean the box! – so we didn’t track grit all over the house.  Oh! While you’re in there grab the feather duster and I’ll get the cobwebs out of the corners. This reminded me of an old nursery rhyme, which The Squire accused me of making up!

And after all that commotion, The Squire went to the “Y”, and I made a pie crust. It’s as bad as the day before the baby comes!

The only casualty of the day was when I pushed up one of the bottom windows and mashed my finger. The window frames have little “wedges” you can pull out to prevent the lower sash from being raised more than three inches. It’s nice to be able to get some fresh air without worrying if a storm comes up, or perhaps somebody trying to crawl in the window.  I’d left one wedge sticking out during the summer, and caught one finger between it and the top of the bottom sash. Woo-hee!

There was an old woman
Tossed up in a basket
Seventeen times as high as the moon.
Where she was going
I just had to ask it,
For in her hand she carried a broom.

“Old woman, old woman,
Old woman,” say I,
Whither oh whither,
Oh wither so high?”
“To sweep the cobwebs from sky.”
“May I go with you ?”
“Yea, By and by.”


Gee, Thanks

18 Nov

I went up and watched two of the local great-grandkids the other day, and as I was leaving, our daughter handed me a plastic bag – “for Daddy”.

Two soft crabs, ready to fry.

This is a Maryland delicacy, but neither The Squire nor I enjoy them. When he first came to Baltimore, a dear naïve young man from the hills of North Carolina, a bunch of fellows from his office invited him to join them for dinner. The Squire had no idea what to order, so he suggested the others order for him while he went to the restroom. “Surprise me.” You can imagine his reaction when his meal arrived and he found they’d ordered a soft crab sandwich! A huge spider, all elbows, hanging over the bread. Worse yet, when he lifted the lid on his sandwich the spider was glaring at him!

Although Isoftcrab enjoy hard crabs – and The Squire also likes those – I’m not overly fond of soft crabs, either. Mind you, I like oysters in any form, even raw, but no soft crabs, thank you very much.  I think it’s something you have to grow up eating to really appreciate it.

Sort of akin to eating the lamb’s eyeball. Or escargot.


10 Nov

Way back on October 21st, I did something creative to my left foot during our church’s Colonial Fair.

I ignored it for a while, assuming (and you know where that gets us) that it was muscle strain. The Squire finally got tired of seeing me limp, and hearing me gasp and groan, and made an appointment for me with the podiatrist.  So yesterday afternoon we sallied off to the office.

I have a stress fracture. Lovely. I am clomping around the house in a surgical boot, and bear a strong resemblance to Frankenstein’s monster.

I’m From the Government. . .

8 Nov

.  . .and I’m here to help you.

The Squire and I have been getting bread through Panera’s “Dough-nation” program for about ten years.  This bread has been given to two different food pantries, who give it to people in need in Harford County.

This afternoon we received a phone call from one organization, saying a government inspector had come to their place this morning and told them to cease and desist. All bread given out must be in bags (which it is) and labeled with the ingredients – which Artisan bread never is. The Gummit says we might be open for all sorts of problems if somebody is allergic to any of the things we give out.

You know what I think? President and Mrs. Obama were instrumental in getting restaurants and bakeries to donate left over foodstuffs, as well as encouraging schools to give students nutritional meals.  All of these programs are being dismantled by a certain Tangerine Tornado who is obsessed with destroying that legacy.

Recipe Roulette

5 Nov

The Squire suggest we have mac and cheese for dinner. Once I put on a pot of water we discovered there was not enough elbow macaroni, not nearly enough pepper jack cheese, and we were short on milk. Apparently, all we had enough of was cheddar.

We substituted rigatoni for the elbow noodles, added cauliflower to make up the difference, and just went with what we had.  For a hot game of roulette it wasn’t too bad.