tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-89319718457732329852024-03-08T11:04:59.634-08:00Our Lives For Better And For Worsepri crihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03789665758041279562noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8931971845773232985.post-15377002974043510012013-12-13T11:08:00.003-08:002013-12-13T11:08:26.526-08:00Shredded Brussels Sprouts with Bacon & Onions <h3 class="post-title entry-title">
Shredded Brussels Sprouts with Bacon & Onions
</h3>
<div class="date-outer">
From Eatingwell.com<br />
Makes 6 servings, 1/2 cup each, with 7 grams of carbs<br />
<br />
2 slices bacon<br />
1 small yellow onion, thinly sliced<br />
1/4 teaspoon salt<br />
3/4 cup water<br />
1 teaspoon Dijon mustard<br />
1 pound Brussels sprouts, trimmed, halved and very thinly sliced (I don't see why you couldn't use frozen, thawed.)<br />
1 tablespoon cider vinegar<br />
<br />
Cook bacon in a large skillet over medium heat turning once,
until crisp, 5 to 7 minutes. Drain on a paper towel crumble. Add onion
and salt to the drippings in the pan. Cook over medium heat, stirring
often, until tender and browned, bout 3 minutes. Add water and mustard
and scrape up any browned bits. Add Brussels sprouts and cook, stirring
often, until tender, 4 to 6 minutes. Stir in vinegar and top with the
crumbled bacon.<br />
<br />
Live long and prosper
<br />
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<h3 class="post-title entry-title">
It Came Upon The Midnight Clear - Episode 3
</h3>
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<div style="background-color: transparent;">
<span id="internal-source-marker_0.6332698599435389" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As
I reached the glass doors leading outside I noticed a man behind me. I
started to turn just as he reached me. “May I help you ma’am?” He opened
the door for me, “Thank you.” I walked hurriedly to my car. As I got my
keys out of my purse, I dropped them so I could look around. I saw the
same man walking several rows over. Paranoid, I know, it’s probably
nothing but it seems like he is following me. I get in the car and lock
the doors just as he passes. He nods to me, smiles, and tips his hat.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m
scared, really scared. I hurry home, get inside, and lock the doors.
Then I look out each window. I don’t see anything out of the normal, but
I still have that feeling of being watched.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I
go about my usual chores, but I really need to go outside and I also
have some things I need to do uptown. Boy, do I wish I had a dog right
now. I wonder if Missy would let me borrow Max. I pick up the phone and
call. “Hi Missy, this is Beth. Could I borrow Max for a few days?”
“Sure Beth, you know you can have him anytime. He loves to visit with
you. I know you, you spoil him something awful.” “Thanks, I really
appreciate it. Could you bring him over?” “Sure, I wanted to visit with
you some anyway. Is there anything wrong?” “I’ll tell you when you get
here. I don’t want to leave the house right now.” “OK, we’ll be there
shortly.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I
continue to try to do what I need to do in between trips to all the
windows. I still don’t see anything, but I just can’t get rid of that
feeling that something is wrong. The doorbell rings, it’s Missy. “Come
in Missy, hi Max.” Max is a Rottweiler but he wouldn’t hurt a fly.
Well, that isn’t exactly true. He is not aggressive, but he is wary of
strangers until he gets the all clear from Missy, John, or me. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Beth,
you have me worried. What’s happened to scare you?” I tell Missy about
what happened last night and this morning. “That’s why I want Max to
stay here for a while. You know I’m usually not a scardie cat, but I
just can’t shake this feeling.” “Do you want me to stay too? John is out
of town for the next few days and I don’t have anything that needs to
be taken care of at home. I’d be glad to stay.” “Missy, I hadn’t thought
about that, but if John is out of town, won’t you need Max? The more I
think about it, why don’t you stay. It would be fun, like a slumber
party.” “Sure it would be great fun,” Missy said.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We
make plans while we get Max settled in. Ole Max and I are old friends.
He’s spent several weeks at a time with me while Beth and John were out
of town. He knows his way around my house and yard, and he takes good
care of me I must say. No boogers are going to get in this house while
he’s here.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As
we leave in Missy’s car, I see a car start up about halfway down the
block. It’s not a car I recognize and not being able to keep anything
from Missy, I tell her about it. She’s a strong woman and takes it in
stride. We make a good pair, she doesn’t seem to be afraid of anything. I
am, but I can sense danger and I am a crack shot with my pistol. I made
sure and put it in my purse before we left the house. I even have extra
ammo in my purse and Missy carries some for me too. We are two ladies
not to be reckoned with.</span><br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We
are cautious as we take a round-about route to her house. We don’t see
any sign of the car, that is not until we pull into her driveway. Way
down the street the same car is parked. I showed Missy, and we talked
about it as we go into the house. We conclude it must be someone from
the police department and they ran her license plate. They didn’t have
to follow us, they already knew where we were going.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We
gathered up what she needed for two weeks, checked the answering
machine, made sure everything was locked, turned off, etc. all the time
talking about the situation. We laugh and talk about how we will solve
the mystery and put the police department to shame. Lets face it, we are
both mystery fans and our imaginations are running wild. And yet,
everything we think of has a ring of possibility. The man who is
apparently following us, or woman, must be from the police department.
Two possibilities, protection or bodily harm. Either way, we need to
find out which.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We
hatch a plan, just like a couple of kids playing detective, giggling
all the time. We will leave the house, drive right by the parked car,
Missy will get out and bold as brass walk over and ask. It strikes us as
funny and we laugh hysterically. That releases the tension and we
consider our plan again. Not coming up with anything else, we decide to
go ahead.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Everything
is in the car, house locked, we get in the car and back out of the
driveway. We are all psyched up and ready for bear. Turning toward the
parked car, plans thwarted. It’s gone. Here we have psyched ourselves up
for a confrontation and it’s a let down not to follow through.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We
both keep looking around as we drive to my house. Nothing seems out of
the ordinary but we are pumped up and ready to tackle anything. Funny
how two people can be so brave together when they would probably fall
apart by themselves. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">We
get home safely. As we get out of the car in the garage we hear Max
barking like he has something treed. I pull out my gun and slowly open
the door to the kitchen. Missy grabs a shovel from the garage. Max
sounds like he is in the living room. We slowly and carefully approach,
Missy in front with the shovel and me right behind, to find Max has an
intruder backed up to the front door ready to attack at the slightest
move.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Help,
call this animal off,” the intruder begs. “First, he’s not an animal,
he’s a highly trained attack dog. It’s a good thing you haven’t tried to
move or you would be hamburger,” Missy declares. Both of us knowing Max
is all bark and no bite. “Come on lady, call him off,” he starts to
reach into his jacket. I take careful aim at the crotch area, “If you
want to keep your family jewels you better take that hand out carefully
and it better be empty.” My hand is steady as a rock but I’m quivering
inside. He pulls his hand out but it isn’t empty. No gun, but one of
those ID cases. “Just look at my ID, I’m a police officer.” “If you’re a
police office, why are you breaking into Beth’s house?” Missy asks. </span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Live long and prosper.</span></div>
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<h3 class="post-title entry-title">
A Man and His Dog
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This was just too good not to share. I got it in an email. Sorry I couldn't include the pictures. <br />
<br />
<br />
This explains why I forward stuff.<br />
<br />
A man and his dog were walking along a road. The man was enjoying the
scenery, when it suddenly occurred to him that he was dead.<br />
<br />
He remembered dying, and that the dog walking beside him had been dead for years. He wondered where the road was leading them.<br />
<br />
After a while, they came to a high, white stone wall along one side of
the road. It looked like fine marble. At the top of a long hill, it was
broken by a tall arch that glowed in the sunlight.<br />
<br />
When he was standing before it, he saw a magnificent gate in the arch
that looked like mother-of-pearl, and the street that led to the gate
looked like pure gold.<br />
<br />
He and the dog walked toward the gate, and as he got closer, he saw a man at a desk to one side.<br />
<br />
When he was close enough, he called out, 'Excuse me, where are we?' <br />
<br />
'This is Heaven, sir,' the man answered.<br />
<br />
'Wow! Would you happen to have some water?' the man asked.<br />
<br />
'Of course, sir. Come right in, and I'll have some ice water brought right up.'<br />
<br />
The man gestured, and the gate began to open. 'Can my friend,' gesturing toward his dog, 'come in, too?' the traveler asked.<br />
<br />
'I'm sorry, sir, but we don't accept pets.'<br />
<br />
The man thought a moment and then turned back toward the road and continued the way he had been going with his dog.<br />
<br />
After another long walk, and at the top of another long hill, he came to
a dirt road leading through a farm gate that looked as if it had never
been closed. There was no fence. As he approached the gate, he saw a man
inside, leaning against a tree and reading a book.<br />
<br />
'Excuse me!' he called to the man. 'Do you have any water?'<br />
<br />
'Yeah, sure, there's a pump over there, come on in.'<br />
<br />
'How about my friend here?' the traveler gestured to the dog.<br />
<br />
'There should be a bowl by the pump,' said the man.<br />
<br />
They went through the gate, and sure enough, there was an old-fashioned
hand pump with a bowl beside it. The traveler filled the water bowl and
took a long drink himself, then he gave some to the dog.<br />
<br />
When they were full, he and the dog walked back toward the man who was
standing by the tree. 'What do you call this place?' the traveler asked.
<br />
<br />
'This is Heaven,' he answered.<br />
<br />
'Well, that's confusing,' the traveler said.<br />
<br />
'The man down the road said that was Heaven, too.'<br />
<br />
'Oh, you mean the place with the gold street and pearly gates? Nope. That's Hell.'<br />
<br />
'Doesn't it make you mad for them to use your name like that?'<br />
<br />
'No, we're just happy that they screen out the folks who would leave their best friends behind.'<br />
<br />
<br />
Soooo... Now you see, sometimes we wonder why friends keep forwarding
stuff to us without writing a word. Maybe this will explain it.<br />
<br />
When you are very busy, but still want to keep in touch, guess what you do? You forward emails.<br />
<br />
When you have nothing to say, but still want to keep contact, you forward jokes.<br />
<br />
When you have something to say, but don't know what, and don't know how - you forward stuff.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
A 'forward' lets you know that <br />
you are still remembered, <br />
you are still important, <br />
you are still cared for.<br />
<br />
So, next time if you get a 'forward', don't think that you've been sent
just another forwarded joke, but that you've been thought of today and
your friend on the other end of your computer wanted to send you a
smile.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
You are welcome at my water bowl anytime!!<br />
<br />
Live long and prosper.
<br />
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<h3 class="post-title entry-title">
It Came Upon The Midnight Clear - Episode 2
</h3>
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<br />
<div style="background-color: transparent;">
<span id="internal-source-marker_0.37748778075911105" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Gang
related my Aunt Fanny. I clearly saw the gun in Red Skirt’s hand when
she ran. Self-defense probably. Well, I guess it could have been murder.
I fix breakfast, clean up, then get dressed all the time thinking about
last night. It’s hard to get something like that out of your mind.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’ve never had something like that happen before. I still feel a little on edge but I’m not scared. I feel like I need to do </span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: bold; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">something</span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">.
Even though they didn’t interview me last night, should I go in today
and tell them what I saw? I go back and forth. I’ve never dealt with the
police before, I don’t know if I have the courage or not. In some ways I
feel like I’m back in school, tattling on the school bully.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">OK,
I’ve made my decision. I will go. Must look nice, so I dress as nicely
as I can without being over dressed. I go the the police department,
finding a parking place near by. With great trepidation I walk into the
Police Station. “I would like to talk with someone about the shooting
that took place in front of my house last night.” The police officer
looked at me kinda funny but contacted someone and apparently got the go
ahead. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Go
out that door, turn right, go to the end of the hall. The last door on
the right, Sergeant O’Hara.” I thanked him and followed his directions,
getting more nervous the closer I got. I almost turned around several
times but kept going over my better judgement.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I
reached his office and even though the door was open I still knocked.
“Sergeant O’Hara, the desk sergeant referred me to you.” “Come one in
and sit down,” he said with a sigh. “What do you want?” “There was a
shooting in front of my house last night but no one interviewed me. I
felt the need to come in and tell someone what I saw.” I could tell he
wasn’t very enthusiastic about the prospect.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He
gets out the forms and starts asking the usual questions such as name,
address, etc. “OK, now tell me what you saw.” I begin to describe the
scene in great detail. You see, I can remember almost everything I see
and can recall it whenever I need to. I had barely got started when I
realized he wasn’t writing. I stopped and asked, “Why aren’t you writing
this down?” “Ma’am where did you read this?” “Read this, the only thing
I have read today is the morning newspaper and all they said was that
it was gang related.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Now
ma’am, tell me who your contact is. Is it someone in the department?
It’s Sergeant McIntire isn’t it?” “No sir, I don’t know anyone in the
department and I certainly don’t know this McIntire fellow.” “OK, I’ll
write this down, but you can tell McIntire he isn’t fooling me. I know
this is some kind of sick joke.” I take up where I left off and as I
described the scene in more and more detail, I could see that his
interest picked up. My guess is I was describing things that no one else
had discussed before. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After
I finished I said, “And Sergeant that is why I don’t think it was gang
related.” “Well, ma’am I understand your point of view, but what you
have told us really doesn’t change the facts. It most definitely gang
related.” “We’ll get in touch with you if we need any further
information. Have a nice day.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Have
a nice day my Aunt Fanny. I feel like slapping him up beside his head
with my purse. But I put a smile on my face and thank him for his time.
As I left, I thought I heard him call someone and I thought I heard him
say something about “She knows.” That sent a chill down my spine. I
immediately begin to wish I hadn’t said a word.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As
I reached the glass doors leading outside I noticed a man behind me. I
started to turn just as he reached me. “May I help you ma’am?” He opened
the door for me, “Thank you.” I walked hurriedly to my car. As I got my
keys out of my purse, I dropped them so I could look around. I saw the
same man walking several rows over. Paranoid, I know, it’s probably
nothing but it seems like he is following me. I get in the car and lock
the doors just as he passes. He nods to me, smiles, and tips his hat. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m
scared, really scared. I hurry home, get inside, and lock the doors.
Then I look out each window. I don’t see anything out of the normal, but
I still have that feeling of being watched.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I
hope you enjoy this little story. Personally I don't think it has the
same impact as the original episode did, but I did the best I could.</span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Live long and prosper.</span></div>
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Rocky Has Fully Recovered
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I haven't posted about Rocky for a
while and we need a change from creative writing too. I got the meter
for Rocky as I posted before. It was expensive, but I don't regret a
penny of it. Right after I got it I checked his bg and it was over 300.
We started what I call Intensive Insulin Therapy. We could tell his bg
was high just by looking at him. He carried his head level with his body
and his ears were hanging down. When he walked, it was slow and
lethargic. He wasn't eating either.</div>
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When we went through his not
eating before and positive urine testing, we took him to vets. At that
time his bg was over 300 too. The vet said whether he eats or not give
him full dose of insulin. I am on two diabetic pets mailing lists. When
I mentioned that even though he wasn't eating we were giving him the
full dose several people cautioned not to do this. Their
recommendations were to give ¼ dose if the animal did not eat. And to
give ½ dose if ate ½ of meal, etc. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
After several days he was eating
better and his bg was coming down and was about 125 at his lowest. Then
he started vomiting we took him to vets where he was giving anti-nausea
drug and an antibiotic and I checked my meter against his. Mine
calibrated with his very closely. I asked him to clarify when we should
give full dose if he did not eat. The recommendation was if fasting bg
was 300 or over give full dose, 200 ½ dose, under 200 use own judgment.
These recommendations are only if one is home blood testing. You can't
do this with just urine testing.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Rocky has fully recovered and is
eating well. He's asking to be fed just as soon ad he and R are back
from their morning walk. He cleans up everything and wants more. I
have cut back to 2 ounces of protein because he needs to lose some
weight. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Day before yesterday about 5:00
he started on R, loving on him, grabbing his finger, anything to attract
attention. He wanted to be fed. R started getting his food ready but
held off feeding until regular time. Yesterday R and other firemen from
his volunteer fire department were collecting for Muscular Dystrophy
Association all afternoon and early evening. Regular feeding time came
and went. When I realized what time it was, I got his food ready and
put it next to the fridge where he usually eats breakfast. He came over
and looked at it. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
One time when he was trying to
eat there, I was opening and closing the fridge, etc. and disturbing
him. I thought that was the problem so I told him I was going into the
living room so he could eat in peace. He looks at it again and barks at
it. I had to laugh. I picked the bowl up and put it next to the kitchen
table where we usually feed him. No problem, he licked the bowl clean.
I don't know if he is a creature of habit, or if he just has me well
trained. No matter which, he got what he wanted.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Live long and prosper.</div>
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GloFish
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Here's My Big Animal
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Friday's F</div>
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<div class="date-outer">
<br /><div class="date-posts">
<div class="post-outer">
<div class="post hentry">
<br />
<h3 class="post-title entry-title">
Into The Fog
</h3>
<div class="post-body entry-content">
The fog is rolling across the lawn, cool and inviting. It’s late
afternoon, just about sundown. Still plenty of light though. Calling
the dog, I don a sweater, get his leash, and we walk out the door. The
cool air is refreshing. Taking a deep breath, I enjoy the fresh
clean(?) smell. What is that smell? Death, I smell death. The dog
doesn't seem to notice anything. It must be my imagination. <br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Dog is insisting we go down the
path to the woods. The smell is getting stronger and if possible,
stinker. I wonder if I can stand it, but curiosity is getting the
better of me. I begin to get a creepy feeling. Silly, I've been
watching too many mysteries. This is the stereotypical fog scene in any
good horror movie. Well, this isn't a movie.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Dog is still trotting ahead, head
in the air sniffing but otherwise unconcerned. If he pulls any harder
he'll be dragging me face down along the path. He begins to slow,
looking to the side as though following the movement of something. I
don't see or hear anything, this darn fog. Oh, wait, I do hear a faint
noise like tiny feet walking in dry leaves. Maybe we should turn around
and go back.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
About then a silly squirrel runs
across the path, I breathe a sigh of relief. Too many mystery movies.
I've got to start watching something else instead. Dog is still looking
to the side. Then he begins to tug in that direction. He is no longer
pulling but keeps a steady tension on the leash. The smell is getting
stronger, I'm almost gagging. I pull my sweater across my mouth and
nose, it helps some, at least I'm not gagging any more, but perfume it
ain’t.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
We push through some heavy brush
and there it is, the source of the smell of death. I had to laugh,
releasing the tension some. Dog seemed confused; this was not what he
expected. It's a gigantic Amorphophallus Titanum, better know as the
Corpse Flower because the blooms smell like rotting flesh. It was even
spookier with the fog and mist around it, seemingly rising out of a
steaming pit. </div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
One mystery solved, but how did
it get here? It's certainly not native here, should be in a greenhouse
some place. We walked around a little but all we saw was the usual trees
and underbrush. Nothing unusual, the flower looks like it has been
growing here forever. Pulling Dog away was not quite as big a problem as
I expected it would be. He actually seemed disappointed and ready to
go. As we walked rather fast back to the house I look back and see Mr.
Jenkins from across the woods out for his evening walk, fading in and
out of the mist. I got this creepy feeling, but laughed it off as being
leftover from the Corpse Flower, but we walked even faster with dog
leading the way.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
It was good to bet back to the
house. Dog even seemed relieved to be inside although he did pause at
the door and look back. For the rest of the evening both he and I were
uneasy. We both walked to the window from time to time but all we saw
was the soft fog. It was so peaceful looking. By bedtime we both had
calmed down and I no longer felt threatened.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Next morning on the news there
was a story about this flower and the body they found near by. The body
was male, and time of death was during the early evening. Whew, that
could have been me. If I hadn't been paranoid or influenced by scary
movies last night that could have been me. The body they described
sounded just like Mr. Jenkins.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Curiosity got the better of me
and later in the afternoon Dog and Idecided to have a look see in bright
daylight. Dog lead the way just like he had last night. We got to the
place where the flower was, only it wasn't there. Nothing looked
disturbed, the leaves looked just like any other place in the forest.
There was no sign of it having been dug up or a body removed or
anything. The only reason we knew it was the same place was the smell.
It was still strong today, very, very strong.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
Live long and prosper. </div>
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My afghans
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Repainting our mobile home
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Flowers
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</div>
</div>
<h2 class="date-header">
</h2>
<br />
<h3 class="post-title entry-title">
Halloween
</h3>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Halloween is almost here. I want to dress up as Elvira, after all I can certainly do justice to the costume. But, I really don't think that is an appropriate costume to give out candy in. The kids just wouldn't appreciate it, or if they did I don't know that I would want my kids associating with them.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The boys are getting excited about all the
candy from Halloween trick or treating. They are also “chomping at the
bit” to pick out theirs too. We head for Walmart. Other kids are there looking for the same thing. The
boy pick out costumes, treat containers, decorations for the house, and
candy to give away. The candy they pick is what they like of course,
hoping we won't give it all out. I sneak in some my hubby and I like too. Just good planning. I'll give out all the rest first, keep our good stuff for last. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Still trying to be unique, I see something I
think I can use to try to disguise myself. I sneak it in the cart and
even manage to get it through the check out before they see it. Still a
secret. I even manage to hid it from them after we get home.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Halloween the boys are getting dressed and
ready to go. In those days we weren't afraid to let them go around the
neighborhood by themselves. After they left, I got out my disguise. Just
a simple beard and mustache.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The first kids come to the door. I'm ready
for them. I open the door, the looks on their faces were priceless. Too
bad I didn't have a camera ready. Eyes wide, they took their candy and
left, too considerate to comment on a woman with a beard and mustache. It
was the same thing all evening long. The kids were just so mannerly, no
one wanted to embarrass me, but boy the looks I got from them and their
parents.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When the boys got home, they were suitably mortified. “Mother,
you didn't answer the door like that did you?” Humiliated they didn't
want to be in the room when I answered the door again. I didn't want to
embarrass them any more than I already had, but I had one more use of my
disguise.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I snuck out the front door, walked through
the carport to the gate. Here comes Patches our beagle. Tail wagging, as
she gets closer she slows down, hair stands up and she cuts loose
barking. I start to open the gate and she gets louder. As I enter the
gate, she turns and runs around the corner still barking but safe. I
decided to put the poor thing out of her misery and called her name.
That was all it took, beard and mustache forgotten she flew to me.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After talking to her and giving her some loving I went back inside. Still smiling at the incident, I tried it again. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice shame on me – she wasn't fooled this time. A very adaptable dog. </div>
pri crihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03789665758041279562noreply@blogger.com0