Thank you, Julia…

…I just made — and am presently eating — an omelet a la Julia Child. It is soooo very good!

The weather was gorgeous for the three day Labor Day weekend around here. Let’s see:

Saturday I went to see Julie & Julia in R-town with H and Southern Cousin. What a fun movie! Meryl Streep did an excellent job of portraying Julia Child. H and I agreed it would have been better just to have a biographical film of Julia, but this one was fine.

Soph and I then had a big adventure Sunday, when I decided that we should cross the highway downtown and head towards the park on the other side of town.

First we were nearly run over by a driver doing an illegal “turn on red”… I mean really! How could you consider plowing over a pretty little dog as Sophie?

Next once we were across the highway, I saw a woman walking a dog…um…two dogs and one was crossing the road towards us.

Ah yes.

You have seen the invisible dog on a leash? This was a dog on an invisible leash – a pug mix type dog – and it was headed our way.

Lucky! Lucky! The woman was also crossing the street and hollering for the pug. Looked to me that she was holding the business end of a retractable leash… an invisible leash.

Well — whatever she was doing — I was scooping up Sophie and wondering if the pug was serious or not…

“…Uh — are you going to be able to get your dog…do you need help?”  I ventured.

No…they got this dog from a shelter…it doesn’t know it’s name…Lucky! Lucky, come here!

What?! Dear Lord, this is wrong in so many ways…

But away the dog walker (?) went, away from us, because Lucky (might want to consider changing your name, doggie) changed directions and was going to the tanning salon, I guess.

Soph and I went on our way — past McDonalds — but we didn’t quite make it to the other park. Nice as the weather was, it was getting humid and Soph was a-panting pretty good. So we turned around and went home. Like usual Sophie gulped down some water and came into the living room to stretch out on the cool tile.

Monday H came by for lunch. DH grilled hamburgers and brat patties outside while I had the baked beans, coleslaw and peach cobbler ready inside. It was YUM. Afterwards Hil, Soph and I went to the state park and visited the Chief — a huge statue formally known as the Eternal Indian – or something like that. Soph is always just a bit intimidated by the Chief, but she is getting a bit better. However, her tail doesn’t make an appearance until we are going away from him…

Anyways — today is Tuesday, so back to work for me.

Need to exercise first if I ever can tear myself away from this blogging thing…

Cookie Poo Veronica

My first doggie:

I was pretty excited to find a reasonably clear photo of ol’ Cookie whilst looking through Mom’s picture boxes last weekend.

Ahh…Cookie. She was a good ol’ girl. Pretty too. Yes she certainly was.

I had to beg rather vigorously for her. I am sure that Dad knew what we were getting into, more than my brother or me or even Mom…but he relented.

My friend, R___ had a whole pack of new puppies, which included Cookie and Monica, the one that went to Unkie’s family. (Monica was all reddish brown.) I think the first time I saw Cookie, she was eating corn on the cob. Really.

One summer day, right before sixth grade, we brought Cookie out from her country home into town with us.

So, what was I? Around eleven years of age, I think, and of course while I knew I would love Cookie forever, I wasn’t very good at training her — not at all like the rigmarole we have gone through with Sophie or even Trixie the WonderHound.  I believe she could sit, lay down, and maybe roll over — oh yes, and shake hands. She also was quite the beggar — being fed people food very often.

Dad never showed much affection for Cookie, however he always save her the last bit of his breakfast toast, or let her lick the last bits from his wooden ice cream stick.

Cookie slept with me in my bed (shudders!), endured my attempts to paper train her in my room, and finally showed me that she was smart enough to go to the back door and bark when she wanted out.

I wish I could remember more about her. She was always “there” that much I do know. She stayed with Mom and Dad after I left home and got married — and one day she made her way to the Rainbow Bridge.

I am sure she and Trixie are trading stories about their crazy owner…

Cookie was a good ol’ girl.

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NP: The microwave.

Where’s Sophie? In the kitchen with Daddee.

Mood-o-meter: Been better, been worse.

And now for another bulleted list:

• I really must not confuse a burst of energy with a reason to overextend myself. I got my second wind late last Thursday and made pulled chicken, potato salad, carrot salad, and fruit salad for the holiday weekend — and went to bed at midnight. Mind you, I’d been getting, oh, five hours of sleep on the previous days.
• And because of the aforementioned stupidity, I felt like I was sleep-walking until late Sunday afternoon. That’s right. My kids come to visit and find their mother in a different time zone.  I told them it will get worse.
• It already has.
• I get this wild idea. Since Sophie has been waking me up at 4:30 AM every morning, why don’t I shuffle her feeding times to 5:30 AM and 5:30 PM — maybe her clock is in her stomach.
• And indeed it is in her stomach. Sophie is not pleased that I am making her wait for her din-dins.
• However, it seems to be working!!! Soph slept past 4:30 AM!
• Now if I can manage to set the first alarm on our clock (5:3o AM) to come on instead of the second — which comes on at 4:30 AM.
• That’s right. I am awake and Sophie is snoozing still.
• I am hopeless.

Three day weekend~

…and it all starts an hour early, thanks to my boss! I will be out the door at 3:30 PM today and headed for the grocery store to get all the fixin’s for the holiday. If all goes well, DH, J and H will be home and we are having a cookout and who knows what over the long weekend.

My unreasonable plan is to do all the prep-cooking/housecleaning tonight. If I were ten years younger, I just might pull it off. However I’ll likely run out of steam early and throw in the towel.

Make ahead: Mr Food’s pulled chicken. Sounds good to me and it looks pretty easy. Or I’ll make porcupines. Or both.

Tentative 4th of July menu: steak, potato salad, corn on the cob, carrot salad, fruit.

Anyway — I am off to write up a grocery list — have a great and safe July 4th!

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NP: Local weather report

Where’s Soph? Looking out the window

Mood-o-meter: anxious

Mumsflower’s kitchen

…is nothing like Martha Stewart’s.

But I didn’t let that stop me when H pointed me in the direction of Martha’s rhubarb crumb bar recipe.

I am still waiting to see the results, but let’s just say in the process I dirtied up every bowl I have in the house, save one — the one I am eating popcorn out of right now (sorry, DH, who is eating his popcorn straight from the bag). In fact, I switched the contents of one bowl for another three times due to size issues and the contents thereof.

Seemed to be a awful lot of work for something that got scooped into an 8×8 inch pan.

Oh yeah — I had forgotten what completely from scratch means.

However another reason to go to all this trouble is my dad:

Here he is on his Grandpa’s farm — what? maybe eight years old?

Just about the time Gone with the Wind was made.

Anyway, the crumb bars are for him — H and I are going to visit my folks this weekend — and if’n I don’t forget, the crumb bars are coming with us.

Sorry again, DH.

——————

NP: The dishwasher — what else?!

Where’s Soph?: looking out the window.  She was continually underfoot during the making of the crumb bars — barked at the mixer, but I didn’t chase her with it…

Next on the list: finish up my church stuff.

Musings of a mind too tired to think straight, or…

…“Fasten your seat belts. It’s going to be a bumpy night.” Margo Channing (Bette Davis, All About Eve)

• I love my little R2D2-like single serve coffee/tea/hot water (really?) maker. Had to retire the nifty 12 cuppa unit that J bought me a long time back — the hard water did a number on it…wah! Right this very minute I am enjoying a Dunkin Donut medium roast w/creamer. It is very good.
  
• However, I still can taste a bit of the bergamot from the loose leaf “Earl Grey, hot!” tea I had yesterday…hmmm. Must clean the filter better…
• DH will be late coming home tonight. I have no food to feed him.
  
• So glad work is over for the week.
• I spent too much time being Counselor Troi (without the hair extensions) one day at work — an inordinate amount, actually…so guess my workload is not obvious to others.
• So the next day I tried the wild-eyed, wild-hair look (well, it was windy out)…and suddenly I became leprous. I need to try that more often.
  
• DH wants to try raised bed gardening. He has no time to plan. I would, but…
• Really need to get the kitchen floor replaced. Think ugly and hard to keep clean.
• Got the new Jars of Clay CD today via Amazon…listened to part of it on the way back to work after lunch. Jury is still out, but it seems likeable.
• Why do wild violets have to be so prolific and hard to kill?
• Southern Cousin had two interviews this week…not sure if either will pan out.
• Hard to believe, I know, but seems my workplace has become a tornado shelter. I would explain, but…
• While cutting some more asparagus, I jammed a bit of last year’s asparagus fibrous material underneath my fingernail.
• OUCH!
• I wonder about that little boy who joined me and Sophie on our walk at the park. Nice kid. I hope he stays that way.
• I wish I had the yet-to-be-family room cleared of all the cardboard boxes we throw in there with such wild abandon.
• And I will abandon that idea once the weather gets hot. Like tomorrow.
• What?! GM is going to get rid of its Pontiac line?!
• What!!?
• Tomorrow is Sophie’s last class. She’s such a good dog. Even when she’s rotten. Did I tell you she’s just about got “sit pretty” down?! Yep.
  
• Wish we could go to rally, but it’s at a bad time schedule-wise. Sigh.
• Need to go see Mom & Dad.
• Can I have a serving of simpler times, please?
• Sympathetic co-worked threw a dollar in the lotto ticket pool for me so when the group wins big this weekend, I won’t be left to do it all in the department.
• I tried to tell them me being in on it will dash any hope of winning.
  
• I’ll have to remind them of that on Monday. Or maybe not.
  

Furlough Bullets: Final Installment

Friday:

• Rearranged the CDs/DVDs/VHSs/books on the shelves in the bedroom. Got a boxful of videos to get rid of — yay!
• Had tacos for lunch…at 10:30 AM…
• Talked to J.
• Talked to Mom and Dad. They may or may not be coming for a visit this Sunday… depends on the SNOW we are supposed to get.
• Pulled out both of the under-the-bed storage containers that are full of my genealogy stuff. I sorted and threw away clippings that were in overabundance (Gee, Grandma PoPo! You had newspapers clippings of all the floods to hit P-town! I saved a representation of them, so don’t worry…) and when I was done reorganizing, I had room for more stuff!
• And of course, a perusal of my family history sent me on an internet detour… but I still don’t know who Mrs. Frank Williams is, even though she says she’s a cousin to Grandma PoPo’s husband and signed his autograph book back in 1910. Golly. Nearly a century ago. When he was seven.
• Shredded more of my life away.
• Realized I hurt my back. And knees.
• Took Sophie to the park for a walkie. Ran into B’s mom and Charlie the huge…Irish setter/wolfhound? This is a BIG dog! Made the most of this meet-and-greet (part of the Good Canine Citizenship test that Soph will be taking). Soph and Charlie were nose to nose just fine and dandy, until Soph realized Charlie had a human with him…then she did her sparkles dance (a test no-no), but after I told her to sit, B’s mom skirched her wee head and Soph was quiet and did good. Can’t wait to tell the instructor tomorrow!

Now that’s different…

Sophie wasn’t very distracted by the bit of thunder/lightning/bucketsful of rain we’ve had this evening.

I am glad of it, because our previous beloved pooch, Trixie,  became a thirty pound basket case at the very hint of rain.

She would run up the stairs to the bathroom — squeeze herself between the tub and toliet — and just shake.

Poor miserable Trixter!

Of course out of our ignorance, we made her that way with our “OOOOO, what’s that, Trixie?  Oh it’s thunder! Oh my!” business — trying to console her and making it worse.

Now that we’ve been educated, we know the thing to do is just act normal during a thunderstorm. No babying allowed. Go on as if nothing unusual or different was happening.

Makes for a calmer pooch.

Humph…

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Talked to Southern Cousin today as she happened to call the switchboard while I was up there this afternoon. She was all excited that the new governor of Illinois saw fit to REOPEN OUR PARKS for visitors, campers, walkers, tourists, etc. It was  very good news. Last spring/summer we spent our noon hours walking and talking our heads off at one particular park.

She sounded good. Her reason for calling, though, was to talk to payroll. I hope that isn’t all messed up for her.

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New music in the house: Sara Groves’ The Other Side of Something, The Annie Lennox Collection, Eurythmics Ultimate Collection

On the telly: should be The Office, but it’s a repeat. I have no idea what DH is watching…looks like Joxer is on it.

Having a hard time waiting for the premiere of: Castle. Golly! — Captain Reynolds is still a browncoat…

Sigh

Been missing Grandma PoPo (1904-2000) for a few weeks lately. Don’t really know why now –

Here she is with my mom when she was a baby — I am guessing the summer of 1933.

Do you know that even though she’s been gone for nearly nine years, I there are times where I still think, “I can’t wait to tell Grandma THAT!”?

Silly, huh?

Back before e-mail, when snail mail ruled the world, I would write both my grandmas either once a month or every other month. I’d let them know what I was up to, how the girls were doing, how the flowers were growing…

Once in a while I’d call Grandma PoPo and ask,

“Hey Grandma, what’s for supper?” (you closet Hee-Haw fans know where this is from!)

And then she’d tell me.

Grandma lived in a high rise apartment for years and years. She was a charter resident.

She first signed up for the fifth floor, thinking that would be high enough.

Then she was slated for the seventh floor, which was a bit iffy, but she thought she’d be okay.

When it was all said and done, she lived on the ninth floor of a ten floor building.

She had a southwest living room window, making it easy to see for miles and miles the flat farmland of Illinois.

That was until Kmart was built, and McDonalds, and Zayre’s and the highway was moved farther west and all the land was built up between.

She always pulled her drapes, even though no one could see in, except for a superhero or two.

If I squint my eyes, I just about can see it all again.

It’s over, Part 2

I should not be blogging — I have a splitting headache.

If it were a migraine, I’d be down and out, but this one is a garden-variety-likely-caused-by-a-change-in-barometric-pressure type.

Tylenol either does nothing or is just taking the edge off it.

Wah!!!

Anyway, I still have a job. My week furlough now seems like a dream. I likely have another coming up in the near future.

…better end this before I get any more incoherent.

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NP: Star Trek TNG…some of these earlier episodes have been…shhh!…silly. There. I said it.

Where’s Sophie? Here in the living room, chewing the dickens out of her Kong. Just can’t get the rest of that treat out. I hope it keeps her entertained for another hour or so…

Waiting for: Fringe to come on and then bedtime.

Pat on the back to: DH, who went out to get us some fried chicken for supper.