What do shoes, tomatoes, Beagles and Venus have in common?
I came home from work on Tuesday. Becky had come for dinner and we were chatting when Diane and Abby dropped by. We were all sitting in the living room having a lovely gab fest.
I was in the Devil Chair. I propped up the foot rest. And what to my wondering eyes should appear but two different colored shoes upon my feet.
Alas, I had a black sandal on my left foot and a blue one on my right.
"Holy cow! Look at that!" I cried out in amazement.
All eyes in the room looked at where I was pointing.
Then we all laughed till we cried!
I can't believe I never noticed, (nor did anyone else) from morning till late afternoon, my faux pas.
I can't believe my feet didn't notice the difference, too!
Harry is smitten with a pretty little thing. She is cute, spunky and five weeks old.
We paid another visit to Trapper's progeny and fell in love with all six adorable baby Beagles again.
It was so much fun watching them squeal and wriggle all over each other.
Harry is going to take one of them and he honed in on the one little girl pretty quickly. She was the one who ventured off from the group, nose to the floor, investigating her new surroundings. When she found her way back to the rest of the litter, she was the one to initiate playful behavior, asserting herself and showing some sass. All are attributes that won Harry's heart and might indicate she'll be a good hunter.
We've been trying to come up with a name for her. We'd like one to fit her personality and came up with Spunky and Sassy but in the end, decided they just weren't right for when she grew older. And not regal enough for a Grand Dame of hunters. (He hopes.) If you come up with a name that would fit a pretty brown, white and tan hunting Beagle that's spunky, sassy and smart, forward them to me at firstname.lastname@example.org or call 610-681-4617 and leave a message if no one answers. Or mail it to Linda Koehler, RR#1 Box 351, Effort, PA 18330. I'll let you know what name we decide on.
Is there anything better than a fresh red ripe tomato off the vine, sun-kissed, warm and juicy?
Is there anything better than a BLT with home-grown fresh tomato?
I wouldn't know.
Every single tomato on our plants, the moment it turns red, some critter eats about a third of it and then lets it lay.
Harry even set out humane traps, hoping to capture it so he could remove it from the premises into the woods. He's used peanut butter, apples, and thought since it loves tomatoes, he put a tomato inside.
Nothing. Nada. Zilch.
I'm ready to set up a Nanny cam just to see what's enjoying our tomatoes.
Because we're not.
You know that phrase, "Women are from Venus, Men are from Mars"?
It's so true.
Take Linda and Harry's ongoing battle of the air-conditioner.
He's cold. I'm hot. There's no middle ground on this.
He works out in the heat all day so when he comes in the house, it feels great to him.
I work in an air-conditioned office all day and when I come home to a house with an inside temperature of 84 degrees, I'm dying!
After a shower, he walks around in flannel pajama bottoms.
I'm practically naked.
When I finally can't stand it anymore, I turn the AC on, whether he likes it or not. As I sit in front of it to enjoy an evening's TV entertainment, he's sitting in his recliner with an afghan on.
If he wakes up and the temperature has dropped down to 60, he opens all the windows.
Getting out of the shower, drying my hair, I'm wringing wet from sweat and have to stand in front of the fan to cool down so I can get dressed.
He looks at me like I've grown horns and I throw back daggers because he can't understand how miserable I am!
Bedtime becomes a silent battle of wills.
I sneak in and lower the temperature. Before he climbs into bed, he raises it.
I can't sleep comfortably without covers. I'm so hot, I can barely stand to have the sheet on. All my limbs are exposed to capture whatever cool breeze is available.
He's got the sheet plus the blanket up over his head and sometimes uses the comforter to cover his feet.
He likes to snuggle. I can't stand to have his body temperature of a 1,000 degrees anywhere near me.
I told him I'm going to buy him an electric blanket and turn his side on to "Fricassee" and burn his skinny little ... butt.
I'm about ready to ship him back to Mars!
I wonder how cool it is on Venus...