Category: humor

Orso – Who Knew?

This was our first hunting trip in two years and the first time I would carry a gun in three years. Last year we didn’t go hunting and two years ago we were hunting quail. Quail are hard for me to shoot, they fly up so fast that by the time my heart stops racing and I realize what flew up the little birds are long gone and way out of range. So I carried a camera two years ago and had much better luck capturing the moments through the lens than with a gun. Two years ago was also the last time we had AJ, our black lab, to help us search out birds. We lost him the week after we came back from that trip. Now we’re down to just two dogs, Charlie, our ten year old german shorthair/lab mix and Orso, our eight year old chocolate lab. Charlie is a good hunting dog, great nose and fast. Orso on the other hand, has preferred to walk behind us letting us beat down the path for him enjoying the outing rather than getting out there looking for birds.

Saturday morning brought clear skies bright and sunny with a fairly strong wind out of the north that felt quite biting. Our group consisted of six hunters, Mitch, me and longtime family friends that spanned four generations. The oldest in our group was eighty-nine and the youngest was fourteen, a wide range indeed. We thought that since Charlie is now ten he might be a little slower and Orso was just along for the ride. Even though Mitch is ever the optimist, saying this might just be the year that Orso gets it, I am the skeptic saying, remember we only have one dog that hunts. We started off working a long strip of tall grasses, Mitch on the outside edge on the left, me just to his right in the grass and the other four spaced out to the right across the expanse to the outside on the right to block any birds from running out and escaping unscathed. The dogs ranged back and forth between us trying to pick up that elusive wonderful scent of the pheasant.

We hadn’t gone fifty feet when Charlie stopped and went on point off to my right in front of the father, grandson combination. A pheasant flew up and caught the wind to fly across my position, the grandson fired off a round and winged the bird, I shot right after and helped bring it down, with Charlie racing hot after the downed bird to make the retrieval. After two years, nothing has changed, it doesn’t matter who shoots the bird the dogs always bring them back to me. A good omen, finding a bird so quickly.

The big surprise came about twenty five yards farther as we walked the field. Orso stopped and stood stock still with his ears cocked up and forward staring at something.

I gave the command, “Get him Orso, okay.” Nothing, Orso just stood there looking at the form in the grass. I gave him the command again, this time with more emphasis, “Okay Orso, get it up!”

Orso moved forward and the bird flew up and to the left trying to catch the wind. Three shots rang out winging the bird but no one got off a clean shot. The bird flew down the hill across the road and into the trees on the other side. Mitch ran toward the spot where the bird went down with Orso following behind him. They crossed the road and worked their way down into the draw where the bird went down. The rest of us stood where we were not moving, waiting for Mitch to resurface. Charlie even came and sat down beside me waiting, taking a rare rest break. About five minutes later I spotted Mitch coming back up out of the draw fifteen feet farther west than they went in and next to him was Orso carrying the bird. Orso had rooted the bird out hiding in the grass next to a tree, went in and grabbed the bird, just like a seasoned hunting dog. Orso trotted back up the hill straight to me bringing his prize, head held high.

After eight years Orso was finally a real live hunting dog. Miracles do happen.

The Hotel Room from Hell

Once a year maybe two if we’re lucky, we head to central Nebraska to go pheasant hunting. For the last five years we’ve stayed in a little town in central Nebraska at a national chain. The rooms have always been clean and the staff very friendly. Last year we didn’t go hunting because I was diagnosed with breast cancer and had my surgery about the time we normally go hunting. When I called to reserve our room a man answered with a very heavy accent that made conversation a struggle with a lot of repeating on both our parts. I was just hopeful that I had actually made a reservation and there would be a room for us when we got there on Friday evening. It turned out that we would have been better off if we haven’t gotten the reservation. The name had changed and was no longer a part of the chain. The man at the front desk was the same one I spoke with on the phone. In person he was not very friendly, I don’t think he ever smiled in his life. He spoke loudly and repeated everything I said. Granted I had a difficult time understanding him. I tried but I am not good at accents. He gave me the room key cards and pointed to the direction of the room.

We drove around the building found the room and started unloading. Evidently the new owners were economizing. The room was tiny with one bed, my mistake, I usually ask for two beds but having missed a year I forgot. There was a piece of cardboard taped to the wall presumably covering a hole. Spackle and paint must be very rare in this part of Nebraska. There was no in-room mini coffeepot, good thing we brought our own. The towel bar over the sink had no bar, just the two mounting brackets supporting the missing bar. The sink stopper was lying on the sink next to the sink, not in the drain for some reason. There were two bath towels, two hand towels and two wash cloths. One roll of toilet paper and no Kleenexes. There was a small refrigerator that sounded like it was on its last leg. Mitch’s favorite thing about the room was the hand written piece of paper with the new name of the hotel taped to the telephone in the room. Vary classy.

The bed was a full size bed, not queen size bed mind you, a full size. At least the television worked. I walked back to the front office and asked Mr. Happy for a roll of toilet paper and a box of Kleenexes. He handed me a roll of toilet paper and said that I had to wait for housekeeping the next day for the Kleenexes. I said that there were no Kleenexes in the room now and I wanted a box today. He said that I had to wait for housekeeping tomorrow. Customer service 101 was a class he evidently skipped. I walked back to our room toilet paper in hand and started to get ready for bed when I realized that I forgot my contact lens solution. Mitch offered up a bottle of water for me to use. Thanks but I don’t that would have worked. I jumped in the car and buzzed across the highway to the Walmart for contact lens solution and squirt cheese for the dogs to hide Charlie’s pill in. I should have bought two pillows and pillowcases, but I hadn’t seen the pillows before I left the room.

While I was gone, Mr. Happy knocked on the door of our room. It took Mitch a minute to answer thinking it was me and that I forgot my key. Anyway when Mitch finally answered the door the dogs bounded out in front of him and out the door before he could stop them. Mitch always thinks that everyone loves dogs. He looks at our dogs as big friendly dogs that love everyone, he forgets that a lot of people are apprehensive around dogs, especially large dogs. Mr. Happy was a few feet away from the door with a plunger in his hand thinking that because I asked for a roll of toilet paper I must have clogged the toilet and we were under water. He took one look at the dogs romping toward him only seeing giant brown monsters with poisonous venom dripping from three foot long fangs coming to eat him. He waved the plunger back and forth in front of him like a light saber warding off the evil creatures of darkness. Of course by waving the plunger at the dogs Charlie saw it as a threatening act causing him to bark and growl at the man. Orso just wanted to be petted by someone new and just kept moving toward the man. Mitch got them under control and shooed back into the room and turned to Mr. Happy. He asked if we needed a plunger to which Mitch politely declined.

I came back contact solution in hand and finished getting ready for bed. That’s when I realized I should have bought pillows. The bed had two pillows on it, one small pillow and one smaller pillow. The bed had a definite tilt to it. The foot of the bed was higher than the head of the bed. Sitting on the bed felt like sitting on quarter inch plywood laid over springs, not comfortable at all. To top it off, Orso was disoriented and clingy, making himself at home across the foot of the bed, shortening the length of the bed by two feet. Mitch on one side, me on the other and here comes Charlie making himself comfortable between us. A full size bed is large enough for the two of us, but add in one hundred eighty pounds of dogs and the bed gets really small very quickly. Charlie wasn’t happy with the hardness of the bed and kept squirming around flopping on my stomach. We laid there for about thirty minutes listening to the refrigerator cycle on and off. I finally couldn’t take it anymore got up and unplugged it. Between Orso at the foot of the bed, Charlie squirming around in the bed and a bed that felt like sleeping on plywood neither one of us got more than a couple of hours sleep. If I hadn’t been afraid of what disgusting things had been ground into to the carpet I would have slept on the floor.

We lasted until about 4:30 in the morning, that was all my lower back could take. I got up and noticed a puddle of water on the credenza next to the refrigerator. I looked down on the floor at the shotgun cases directly below the fridge and saw that two of the four cases were wet. Great. Neither one of us thought about the refrigerator defrosting when I unplugged it.

Mitch took the shotguns out of the cases to see how wet they were, salvaging three. One of mine, my back up shotgun took the brunt of the water. He dismantled it to dry out. I turned on the water in the shower turning the knob all the way over to the hot side in order to get the water warm enough, pulled the flow knob to shower and can only say that the best part about the shower was that the water was wet. I realized I forgot soap and reached for the bar of soap offered by the hotel. I picked up the package to unwrap it and discovered that it was already open and the bar had been used. Super disgusting.

It was going to be a long three nights. This trip was starting off a high note for sure.

Down to the Nitty Picky

This is what our remodel has been reduced to. Because of previous battles and total opposite styles in taste and décor, our never-ending long suffering remodel of this money pit called our home, Mitch is now consulting my opinion on even the minutest detail. Believe me when I say that when we first started this arduous journey, I didn’t think our marriage would survive. We argued constantly about everything. The biggest stumbling block to our relationship was the master bath. We totally gutted it down to the studs and started over from there. The only fixture that stayed in its original spot was the toilet. And that was only because of the difficulty in moving the drain. We, meaning Mitch doing the labor and me being the creative genius, have moved from room to room bringing this hodge podge house into some kind of homey updated house.

Now we are down to the last two bedrooms, laying bamboo floors and rebuilding the closets. We fought over the placement of the closets and we removed them because of poor original construction. People back then used whatever material was available and no building code was followed. I finally gave in to Mitch’s idea of dividing the one closet into two with a wall separating them and with doors opening into each room. Mitch had a genius idea of making them cedar closets which for those rooms is very practical as well as a unique idea. Those rooms are on the old side of the house, which was originally built in 1928 and added on to in 1934, which means that side of the house is not as tightly constructed leaving room for mustiness and the possibility of mold. So the cedar closet was a stroke of genius. The only thing left to argue about was what type of door to install for each closet, bi-fold or sliding, solid or louvered. Louvered bi-fold won (my idea). I bought wooden knobs thinking simple easy plain, no fuss, no muss. It wasn’t until Mitch opened the doors up to remove the hardware and prepare to be stained, that he found that each door had its own wooden knobs.

When it came down to the stain, that was another dilemma, the knotty pine planks are all eighty years old and I’m pretty sure that the stain used back then is long gone, even if we knew what the color was. Mitch went on the hunt buying about a dozen small cans of stain to try and come as close as possible to the original color. A friend suggested that we go to Sherwin Williams with a piece of one of the existing boards and have them create a matching color. Mitch stained the doors, the knobs (all four of them) and the trim. When it came down to putting the knobs on the closet doors, he called me in the make a decision, which knob did I want on the doors. I looked at the knobs and laughed out loud, they were so similar. The only difference was a slight rounded top on one and a flat top on the other. I asked if he was serious and said that he could pick, to which he said no way, I had to pick.

Which one do you think I should pick, you know they are so very different.

knob picture

One of Those Days

You hear stories all the time about the strange behavior of people and animals during a full moon. I’ve always laughed at the stories and made jokes about it. Wednesday morning it was even better, we had a full moon and a total lunar eclipse of the full moon. It’s called a Blood Moon, because of the reddish glow the moon has at the peak of the eclipse. I think the eclipse caused the lunar waves to scatter and pull the earth into mass chaos.

As usual the craziness started on the morning walk. I took my camera along with the dogs to try and capture a few shots of the start of the eclipse. Both dogs were behaving well until we topped the hill and started down. At the bottom of the hill there was a truck parked on the side of the road with a man standing in the middle of the road holding a flashlight. He had attached a large hose to the fire hydrant and had opened the water valve to the hydrant causing water to gush across the street forming a large pool of water. He had the flashlight pointed down at the water looking for something. Now I don’t know about you but trying to see things floating around in rushing water is something I’ve not mastered. Maybe he just liked looking at rushing water in the dark, or maybe he was a victim of the lunar eclipse. Anyway seeing a man in the road that time of the morning is something the dogs don’t usually see, so consequently they took exception to his presence and let him know by barking and growling letting the man know whose road it was at 4:30 in the morning.

In a rush to get back home, get showered and dressed so I could get back out and take more pictures of the eclipse as it progressed across the sky, I pretty much dragged the dogs along, leaving little time for them to pee along the way. I rushed through putting on my makeup, luckily I applied mascara to both eyes, threw some clothes on and went looking for my tripod. Of course that morning I couldn’t find it and knowing I was running out of time I grabbed my camera and went outside looking for a better vantage spot to catch more of the eclipse. By then the moon had moved across the sky and the best spot meant a trek up a gravel road in the dark, the perfect location to twist an ankle. The eclipse was almost at its peak and the moon was well on its way to a full dark reddish color. I tried but couldn’t get any good shots without the tripod to hold the camera still long enough for the shutter to fully open and close and being on a gravel road probably wouldn’t been much better even if I had the tripod. Oh well, I tromped back down the road went back in the house and realized that the clothes I put on did not look good which necessitated a wardrobe change.

I changed my clothes and went to fill my coffee thermos, pack my lunch and head out the door. Orso turned and walked into the dining room and proceeded to vomit his breakfast all over the rug, not just in one spot but two. Why couldn’t he have done that on the tile floor in the kitchen? I couldn’t get to him fast enough. I went through almost a full roll of paper towels cleaning it up, which I put in a plastic trash bag. Wednesday was trash day so I thought perfect, I’d just walk this bag down to the trash can and it won’t have to sit in the trash can for a week. I walked back in the house and washed my hands for about five minutes loaded my lunch container and walked it and my thermos to the living room with my purse so I wouldn’t forget anything when I left for work. I called Charlie and nothing, he wasn’t there. I waked from room to room with Orso in tow but no Charlie anywhere in the house. It dawned on me that he must have followed me out the front door when I took the bag of vomit and paper towels to the trash can.

Now I was late and missing one dog. I walked to the front door calling him and no Charlie. I then walked to the kitchen door and called, still no dog. I went back inside and walked to the back door and called, sure enough he came running. My first thought was that I was really glad he came back and my second thought was that we have too many doors. I got the dogs settled gave them each a rawhide chew, hoping that Orso doesn’t vomit again after I leave, grabbed my stuff and headed out the door.

It dawned on me as I drove to work that the blood moon scattered lunar pull was effecting the drivers more so than normal, I watched one driver ahead of me drift from the far left lane to the middle lane then on to the right without using a turn signal and didn’t once turn to look to see if there might be something in his path. He didn’t stop drifting until his right front tire drifted right off the road, then of course he overcorrected and almost smacked the car to his left. I just shook my head and passed him as quickly as possible so I didn’t get caught in the debris field.

After everything that had gone wrong Wednesday morning during the Blood Moon eclipse, I became a firm believer in the hold the moon has on the crazies.

My New Nickname

I have a few nicknames that Mitch has given me over the years, “Speed Racer” when I spun out at the airport and crashed going too fast on wet pavement, or “Dances with Ladders” after my latest tryst carrying a ladder down a hill (it didn’t end well). But today I can add a new nickname to my list. This time it’s the dogs that can take credit for my new nickname.

On our morning predawn walk today things started off as always, Charlie and Orso sniffing and peeing on everything wandering back and forth on both sides of the street making the most of their time and bodily fluids. I was distracted thinking about a million different things, calling the doctor to rewrite a prescription, what I was going to wear to work and what to take for lunch, you know everything that goes on in your head as you go about your day. Granted, it was all my fault, I know better, when walking the dogs in the dark I have to be on guard constantly for critters large and small that might cross our path.

Just as we had crossed the road to head down a long tree lined dark stretch of road, Charlie and Orso either saw or caught the scent of something ahead. I didn’t see or hear anything but they did. Charlie was on my left side and Orso was on my right side, when Charlie jerked around and circled behind me yanking my left arm behind my back to come around and stand next to Orso, both lunging and growling at something. Jerking my arm around behind my back with enough force and the combined force of Orso lunging forward with Charlie meant my body had a choice, dislocate my shoulder or spin around and follow the leashes. In reality what happened was a combination of both. I would like to say that I pirouetted around like a ballerina, but in reality I jerked around lost my balance and very ungracefully ended up sitting down hard in the middle of the street with my feet splayed out in front of me.

The dogs turned around to look me in the face with what looked like embarrassment that I was so clumsy. How could they possibly be tough dogs facing the unseen danger ahead with this woman who can’t even stay on her feet? I on the other hand was not so pleased with their attempt to be guardians of the roads. I stood back up dusted off my behind and made sure nothing was broken or bent. Evidently whatever was out there fled in terror, not so much from the ferocity of the dogs, but because of a small woman flaying around like a madwoman.

My new nickname, “Sits in the Road”.

Exercising With Your Dogs

You hear it all the time; get more exercise in by walking your dog. It’s supposed to be a win-win situation. The dog benefits by getting needed exercise, stays slimmer and burns off energy. You are moving more working your muscles and getting your heart rate up also staying slimmer and wears you out. Of course we all know how well my walks with dogs go in the morning. My heart rate definitely raises and I work lots of muscles, upper body and locked legs doing the “no, no, no” extensions when confronted with wildlife.

Yesterday in a further attempt to get back in shape after three surgeries in a twelve month period, I decided to start doing Yoga at home. I loaded the Yoga DVD in the DVD player, pushed the coffee table out of the way, unrolled my yoga mat and sat down for the opening breathing exercises. I was immediately face to face with Charlie who wanted to help me by sticking his nose right in my face to make sure I was breathing correctly. I pushed him away but he pushed right back and got even closer. He was determined to help me breathe. I tried to ignore him and stood up to move to the next series of moves. I dropped to plank and Charlie dropped down right next to me too. I sank into cobra pose and Charlie scooted closer. I moved into downward dog and Charlie rolled over onto his back right underneath me and whacked my face with his paw in an attempt to get me to pet him.

This was turning into more effort to avoid him than in doing the yoga moves. Cat/cow was equally a challenge because now Orso had decided that watching Charlie annoy me to distraction looked like lots of fun and jumped off the bed to come and join in helping me exercise. As I arched my back for cow and looked up I got a great big wet slobbery kiss from Orso right in the face. Yuck! That almost caused me to drop on the floor and squish Charlie who was still underneath me being a huge pain in my backside. I pushed Orso aside, tried to move into child’s pose and ended up putting my knees on Charlie’s tail. It did not make him happy. He jumped up causing me to jerk and lose my balance falling over into the coffee table, cracking my elbow on the table’s edge.

That definitely got my heart rate up.

Who Turned the Clock Back to Monday?

What happened to Wednesday? I woke up Wednesday morning and could have sworn it was Monday by the days’ events. We woke up to thunderstorms and heavy rain, a good thing for us but our “water dogs” don’t like getting their heads wet making the morning walk more of a morning “drag”. After I took Mitch to work the rain had stopped so I thought the walk would be a breeze. Wrong.

As the dogs and I rounded a curve in the road I noticed the road ahead didn’t look quite right in the dark, then I realized that two very large limbs of a tree had broken in the storm and were laying across the power lines overhead causing the power lines to sag almost to the ground. I stood there looking at the distance between the power lines and tree limbs wondering if we should turn around and change direction or walk under the sagging power lines and tree limbs to continue on our route. The power lines hadn’t broken yet and there was no snapping or crackling so I decided to take the plunge. Yes I know that walking under the limbs and power lines is not a wise decision and there was a chance that the tree limbs could completely break off and crush us or the power lines could come loose and electrocute us, but turning back and changing directions meant I would have to walk past the neighborhood nudist’s house. So I considered the lesser of two evils and decided that being crushed to death or electrocuted was more appealing. I ducked and ran the dogs under the low hanging canopy of leaves and branches. Once on the other side I figured I shouldn’t tempt fate again by walking back through on our return which meant now I had to walk past the neighborhood nudist’s house on the way home. Oh joy. The nudist is a man who one summer came out every morning I walked the dogs in the predawn, nude to water his flowers or get his paper. Believe me it was not a pretty site.

We walked down the hill and turned the corner to continue on our walk toward “perv lane” when I noticed there was something small and white in the road ahead of us. The dogs immediately went on high alert and I tightened my hold on the leashes. Then the little white object stood up and started walking, but not away from us, no, the little animal was coming straight at us. It was a tiny white kitten left out in the storm and he wanted somebody to save him. My heart went out to the little guy and under different circumstances I would have snatched him up and taken him home, but there I was trying to hold one hundred and seventy pounds of teeth back from an early morning snack. I stood in the middle of the street saying, NO to both the dogs and the tiny kitten. No to the dogs telling them they couldn’t have fun with it and no to the kitten telling him to please walk away and live another day. For once in their lives both dogs actually listened to me and just stood very still and watched the kitten walk toward us. I think they couldn’t believe that the tiny animal had the audacity to come so close.

The kitten stopped about four feet away and just looked at us, then sort of side stepped giving me enough room to walk around him dragging the dogs with me. Orso kept looking back as I tried to put some distance between us and the poor little guy. I looked back and saw him start to follow us. My heart started to sink thinking that this was not going to turn out well. After a few steps the kitten turned around. Whew, I figured we dodged a bullet and headed toward the last leg of our walk, “perv lane”.

I fervently hoped that the storms had kept the nudist inside as we got closer to his house. Luckily no nudist but I did see the cable line hanging from the pole to the ground in front of his house. That explained why we had no cable television that morning. Finally arriving home all three of us intact I figured we were pretty lucky. I didn’t get us crushed or electrocuted, a kitten didn’t get eaten and I didn’t have to have my eyes burned out of my head seeing a very unattractive naked man. Bonus.

Our Vacation

We took a much needed vacation last week. I have cheated Mitch out of a proper vacation on the last three out of four vacations we had scheduled. All three vacations I had scheduled surgeries. One bunionectomy so I would look good in shoes, a bilateral mastectomy because I got stupid breast cancer and the reconstruction of the mastectomy so I would look somewhat normal in clothes again. So I decided that regardless of anything else, I was going to take Mitch on vacation, anywhere he wanted to go. He and I deserved that.

We had decided that we would drive to Washington State and go wine tasting in the Yakima Valley. Well fate has a sense of humor. The week before we were to leave, Murphy decided to come and stay as a houseguest for a few days. That Monday afternoon Mitch called me at work to inform me that the microwave went out. The really nice three year old microwave died. Yippee! Thursday Mitch called me again at work to relate the story on how the outside faucet disintegrated when he started hooking up the really cool soaker hose system he made. I am going to have to stop answering my phone at work. Sunday was the final blow. I took Mitch to work as usual, came back did my usual Sunday morning stuff and waited for Mitch to call for his ride home. I loaded up the dogs in the station wagon, climbed in and put the key in the ignition and turned the key. Nothing, nada, zilch. The car was dead as a door nail. This meant that I had to unload the dogs, take them back in the house, fix them kongs stuffed with carrots to keep them occupied and jump in the firebird to go get Mitch. Mitch diagnosed the car and determined that we needed a new starter. Someone was trying to tell me something.

Mitch installed the new microwave, a much cheaper not as nice microwave without a hitch. Something went right for once. The new faucet took three trips to the hardware store and one afternoon to install. The starter for the car took two trips to the auto parts store (one to buy the starter and one to take it back) and an online order to get the right starter for our old station wagon. It seems our vintage car also has special vintage general motors parts. After I added up the costs of the new “fun” stuff, I decided that we should stay a little closer to home for our vacation.

Second choice was a trip to Texas. We drove to San Antonio for the River Walk and the Alamo. We both have been there, but it was decades ago and decided that it would be a nice place to go in the spring. The River Walk was beautiful and peaceful even with all of the people there. Down along the River Walk, there were cool breezes and shade, making the stroll very pleasant. Dinner was at a very nice restaurant. Very nice, meaning the steaks started at thirty five dollars and the wine list started at sixty dollars a bottle. I kept a straight face while the steward pointed out the better selections at three hundred and fifty dollars and up. I was pretty proud of Mitch and myself for not dropping our jaws and saying something totally inappropriate. We settled on a nice half bottle of wine saying that we couldn’t drink a whole bottle. The steaks were done to perfection and the wine was very good. A wonderful dinner and one we won’t be repeating anytime soon.

After spending two days at San Antonio playing total tourists, we headed up to Fredericksburg, Texas, the heart of the Texas hill country wine area. You know me I am not going to pass up wine tasting if at all possible. We found out Texas is number five after California, New York, Oregon and Washington in wine production and sales. Plus because of the size of Texas there are so many microclimates and soil types that the same grape planted in one area will taste totally different in a different region.

It’s a good thing that Mitch was the designated driver and adult because I was like a kid in a candy store. I wanted to stop at every one of the wineries I saw. Mitch being the adult and not totally feeding my wine habit stopped at a few. I tasted many wines and even brought a few bottles home.

I got to find my vice, wine tasting, so next up was feeding Mitch’s vice, history. There is a National Museum of the Pacific War in Fredericksburg and Mitch wanted to go so we did. I should have paid more attention when the nice lady explained that the tickets were good for two days and that we could come and go in the museum multiple times. The tickets also included the Admiral Nimitz Museum, Pacific Combat Zone, Japanese Garden of Peace Memorial Courtyard and Plaza of the Presidents. The first museum, George H.W. Bush Gallery was huge. I had no idea how much time, effort and money had gone into the museum. There was so much detail and photos throughout; there were even planes and a jeep in the museum. It was Mitch’s turn to be the kid in the candy store. I wandered around and looked at the photos, read some of the stories, but he was totally enthralled absorbing everything he could.

Three hours into the museum and only about two thirds of the way through, I was getting a bit antsy. I wanted to be outside in the fresh air, taking pictures and people watching, but I controlled myself and acted like an adult. I kept reminding myself this was also Mitch’s vacation and I had my turn, now it was his turn. Sometimes it sucks to be grownup. It took us four and a half hours to get through the first museum. I felt like I was back in school. I couldn’t wait to get outside. Poor Mitch, by the end of the tour I almost dragged him out.

On our way back north we wanted to stop at this huge outlet mall in Gainesville that Mitch had gone to about twenty five years ago. The mall he remembered was huge with so many stores and the parking lot was filled with cars making it difficult finding a parking spot. So we stopped in Gainesville and checked into a hotel for the night, planning on doing some serious shopping in the morning. After breakfast I asked the front desk clerk if there was a map of the outlet mall so we could chart our shopping trip for expediency. She looked at me and said that almost all of the store fronts were empty that there were only about six shops still open. We couldn’t believe it so we walked over ourselves, just to see. It was like a ghost town, store after store front empty. This would be a great place to shoot a zombie apocalypse movie. What a disappointment. There was nothing left to do but hop in the car and head home.

After we got home, the really fun stuff started, unloading the car, getting the dogs out of hock, washing all of the clothes we wore and putting everything back on hangers that we didn’t wear, because I am a firm believer in over packing. Of course the yard has gone to seed and needs to be mowed and the weeds are planning a coup on tomato plants. I wonder why we came back.

I Expected Nothing Less

Yesterday was a very busy full day. There was the normal Saturday grocery store excursion and walking in the dogs, plus it was also my birthday, so I had a few extra planned outings. A friend and I got manicures and lunch, margaritas included, then a birthday party for my three year old granddaughter and dinner out afterward. A very full fun day, except for one little thing, Orso.

All day long Orso was just lying around doing his usual dog thing, eating, sleeping and more eating. Orso was lulling us into that false sense of security where we believed that when we left giving each a rawhide chew, both would be happy and content until we came home. Not! We weren’t even gone that long, only four hours. Of course it was all my fault.

As we pulled back into the driveway, the dogs were at one of the windows barking away, glad to see us. I walked into the house to let the dogs out while Mitch put the car in the garage. The first thing that greeted me was the can of lunch size soup on the dining room floor. Unopened, but it had definite teeth marks in the plastic lid. I continued on into the kitchen and saw some large white flecks on the floor. Closer inspection revealed they were crushed eggshells I was saving for the garden. Must not have been too tasty. The bag on the counter that held the ten cans of soup I planned on taking to work was missing two cans and I had only found one so far. I turned and noticed that the butter I left on the counter height kitchen table was missing in action also.

The reason we bought the counter height table was to keep the dogs from reaching the table top and liberating any contents residing on said table. Evidently we were wrong again! Now I was on a hunt for one more can of soup and a butter container. I found the soup can in the living room with lots of teeth marks. Orso must have really wanted to try the chicken noodle soup. There were indentations in the metal lid but didn’t quite get through it, lucky me. Found the can of soup now in search of a half full container of butter. I found the empty container of butter and its lid lying inches away on the bolster bed. Orso carried it in to enjoy in a more comfortable setting. The container had multiple teeth marks punched through the plastic and the inside had been licked so clean there was nothing to wash out for the recycle bin.

A half pound of butter, mind you not margarine, oh no, it was real dairy butter that he consumed in a matter of minutes, meaning he’ll probably be very poopy for a few days. Some dogs might get sick after consuming a half pound of butter, but not Orso, he’ll breeze right through this and go on like nothing had happened. Because Orso is a lab, I am not worried a bit. Labs are built different, land sharks that eat anything that doesn’t eat them first and nothing seems to bother them. I know this from experience, first with Buddy our yellow lab, then with AJ our black lab, whole consumed thirty chocolate candy bars and the wrappers at one sitting and never even burped.

Why am I blaming it all on Orso, because in nine years Charlie has never initiated any counter surfing, no he waits and lets someone else do the dirty work and then enjoys the buffet too. Orso is a lab through and through, his stomach is his number one concern. I think it talks to him all day, “Feed me, feed me”.

What a fitting end to an otherwise great day.

Wall Check

This afternoon I was doing my weekly wall check for slobber bombs and there were a lot as usual, there were even a couple way up high on the wall. I thought to myself, “what does Orso do, stand on his back legs put his front paws on the wall and sling his head around to whip a slobber bomb as high on the wall as he can?” Is this a game with him that he keeps score with Charlie over, “I can shoot a slobber bomb higher than you?” I sprayed the Fantastic antibacterial cleaner over each dried gross blob and scrubbed them off the wall.

I stood back and surveyed my handiwork and noticed the walls now have clean spots where the slobber bombs were, standing out starkly against the rest of the walls. This means that in order to not have lighter colored spots dotted around the room I need to wash all of the walls and clean off a year’s worth of pipe tobacco smoke, dust and god knows what else. I filled a bucket of water and cleaner, grabbed the step ladder and washed all of the walls in the living room. I stood back to admire my work again, and decided that no amount of soap and water were going to improve the look of the walls.

That means only one thing, time to paint the walls. Since I have to paint the walls, I might as well freshen up the room with a new color, a new look. If I’m going to go with a new color on the walls I need to spend some quality time at Lowes and Home Depot staring at paint chips for hours, searching through the myriad of colors and hues in my quest for the perfect shade. For some this may seem to be a chore, but to me this is one of my most fun things to do. Every time we go to Lowes or Home Depot I wander off to the paint department and load up on scads of paint chips. Even if I have no painting project planned I can stand there for hours, just looking at all of colors, thinking about which room I would paint with the different shades. It makes Mitch crazy, when I come home with an armload of paint chips and paint books. Mitch’s idea of painting a room any color other than white is off white. He’s very adventurous don’t you think?

In order to spare Mitch the agony of living through another painting project, I just won’t tell him. I’ll go to Lowes early when he’s at work, stock up on paint chips and stick them all over the wall in the living room to see which one I like best. Then I’ll head back over and buy my paint and paint the room before he gets off work. It will be a surprise and I can guarantee you it won’t be white.