...and then there were none.

Remember the nest of purple finch eggs on my porch?

Last night I was reading on the sofa under a pair of wee hounds when I heard a sort of *thump* on the porch. Thursday was really windy and I thought maybe something had blown over. Turns out, apparently some larger bird was coming in and robbing the nest. Wednesday night there were still three eggs there, and Thursday night there was no evidence of two of the eggs and the third was partially pecked open, dead baby inside. I think I may have scared away the predator before it finished its business.

Meh. Wildlife. What can you do?

Anyway. It's Friday. I'm happy it's Friday. Here's a video of some nice wildlife that I never tire of watching. Love the woolly fellow in the pickup truck. Hee.

ghost of mirrors past...

I think it must have been about 1987 or so when I happened upon this mirror at a junk dealer's booth at Trader's Village in Grand Prairie, Texas. I remember it was delapidated, even then, and I simply had to have it. I thought it looked grand despite its flaked gesso and the mirror whose foil revealed the warps of the corrugated paper behind it for lo these many decades.



Exactly as it is, I love this mirror. I hung it up this week at the house, and it is the first thing I've actually given pride of place, hung on the first nail I've driven into a wall here. Funny to think about the furniture and decorations that have come and gone since then-- the things I so deliberately chose and set out to buy, and yet, this lowly mirror that looks like a saloon refugee from a hundred years ago, or so, is one of the few pieces I've had longer than 20 years. I rember looking at it and asking the dealer what they wanted for it, and I recall how my heart leapt when he said $5.00. Oh, yes, I'll definitely be having that, my dear.



...work continues apace. Being an old house, there's no end of regular maintenance to be done, but bit by bit I've got to get the yard and other things in order, as well. I've set about de-dandelion-ing the front yard, which is no small task. There's a hand weeding tool I've been using which has a little notched prong on the end which is great for plunging down alongside the root of the weed, then using it to *pop!* the whole plant up, root and all. Actually, I'm impressed at the progress I've made so far.



Knowing how to properly pull weeds is one of those things my mom taught me well: yank the top of the plant off, and you'll have weeds tenfold. Get the root out properly, and if anything remains behind, it will be small, weaker and much more easily routed out later.



I first went around uprooting the remains of spent dandelions, their bald caps petulantly waggling at me from around the yard. At one point, I nearly uprooted a bunch of what I realized was pincushion flowers, but in time, I didn't molest the plant. Pincushion flowers are native wildflowers in Texas, and they are most welcome in my yard. Then with the obvious dandelions removed came the task of seeking out the lettuce-like mounds of soon-to-be dandelions. I had been working at this task for an hour or so and the yard is nearly rid of the little buggers. Next mission in the yard will be for me to remove the sticky burrs, which are poky on tender be-sandaled piggies, not to mention little puppy paws.

Monday night I planted my first container of Iceland poppies, and a container of herbs, and one large flowerpot of mint. Going to be sooooo nice to be able to go out onto the porch and grab a handful of fresh herbs for the kitchen. :)

Last night I unpacked a box of crystal glasses. At a rate of one box a week or so, I may be unpacked in time for my next move!


Life is sweet.

I can has decor!

Things are coming together slowly but surely with the house. Seems most days I just take baby steps. I'll sometimes just line a couple shelves[I'm besotted with Life Liner, btw-- best shelf/drawer liner evar]or unpack one measley box, but eventually I'll get there. It feels more like home when you unbox your stuff and sort of arrange things in a pretty way. This is such a cozy little house, and it's getting better all the time. The pups are loving it, although I suspect that the abundance of pecans on the ground are largely responsible for the furry little paunch where Praline's once concave belly used to be. Chuy is blissed out, and I love seeing him so happy.

Shopping for plants on Saturday I felt a kind of bliss thinking of what I wanted to see growing and blooming around the porch, and of again being able to cook with handfuls of herbs collected from a planter out front. I bought a whole passel of herbs for the kitchen, as well as some lovely perennials I've had great success with in past. I expect in the coming days I'll be using my big bathtub to soothe some sore muscles, and it'll be a lovely reward at the end of hard hours of gardening.

More to come...

On this date in 2006...

This date marks the 4th anniversary of Keith Richards' plummet to earth from the lofty boughs of a coconut tree in Fiji-- not the tragi-glorious burnout we've come to expect of our Keef.

I think this speaks for all of us:



Murray Lachlan Young

...all hat and no horse...

I think that saying is about authenticity and all that--that having the hat doesn't make you a cowboy. Well, hang authenticity: I want these pink metallic chaps, and I freely admit I don't own a horse. Saw them at what LawDog calls Redneck WalMart (isn't that redundant?) but I think of it as Cowboy Walmart. It's a fabulous store. See all those hats hanging from the ceiling in the background? Fabulous. I bought a nice straw cowgirl hat that day that will keep the sun out of my eyes when I'm gardening. Great stuff.

Anyway, back to the chaps-- I won't be having these, because they are only made for small children for some sick and twisted reason. No, I wouldn't wear them in public, but they might spice up my blog posting.

Come to that, a few weeks ago, Christina said "I don't even want to know why you have a hobby horse hanging on your bedroom doorknob." Because it makes me giggle, silly. :P

Oh! I guess I do have a horse, after all! Yee Haw!

Sunday, Puppy Sunday: Snortals-- start your kombat!

Teh puppehs had a rousing session of Snortal Kombat on Saturday evening. The weather was beautiful and all afternoon I had most of the screened windows open and the back door, so they had the run of the place. I also cooked dinner and they got lots of treats and they just generally went hog-wild -- if wild hogs could manage cuteness in the process.








Here we have a few illustrations of a cycle of snortal kombat.






The first overtures of snortage, with Jack Russell playing the role of aggressor.



Then comes The Chiweenie Strikes Back phase



Then it all goes blurry



Finally, well-spent, everyone collapses and dreams of living to snort another day. Woohoo!



Life is good. :)

zombies...

*snerk*

Bath time!

When I was a little girl, one day I fell miraculously, strangely in love with Brussels sprouts. MMM, they were gloriously yummy noms, but I didn't come across them very often. Once we were on a road trip out to California and we went into one of those Shoney's/Kip's type places, and I ordered a plate whose side dish was Brussels sprouts. My mom said "you're not getting that plate just because of the Brussels sprouts, are you?" I solemnly swore I wasn't. The food came out a bit later, and I ate the Brussels sprouts off the plate and left the rest.





Well, I've been secretly afeared that my mom would think this is the reason I bought this house. I swear it isn't. There's also a lovely tin tile ceiling above this. Quite nice, I think.



Now for a proper bath. mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm... Someone sent me a box of goodies from Lush. SQUEEE!

But I didn't choose the whole house just for this one feature. There's a tree house, too. And a porch. And some pretty built-in shelves at the back of the dining... and two massive pecan trees... and other stuff as well...




*le sigh*

Giggleworthy

*hyuk* *hyuk*

Found in email from Swamp Rabbit:

Back in the days before Facebook, I would never have learned that my high school marching band drum major's daughter's friend's domesticated bobcat had been toilet-trained.
(note- not my friend)

Squashttocks

I don't know-- it just looked like a butt to me.

I made a delicious spaghetti squash dish on Tuesday night. Om nom nom.

Things are moving apace on the house. Once I'd cleared away some more of the crap and wiped off some dust in the kitchen, I found this hideous roccoco (oh no!) switchplate cover. Covered it up with black, but it still doesn't cover the way the crap laminate veneer was cut wonky and too wide for the aperture. *eye-rolling*

One day in the next year or so, this whole suite of cabinets and counters are going to be kicked to the curb.

unintentionally funny item from Reuters:

Iranian missile may be able to hit U.S. by 2015

Uh, that's one slow-assed missile. You could walk there that fast.

I worried I'd be caught, but it sort of excited me...

...going out in public thusly dressed*-- what was I thinking???

I rather slinked into Wal-Mart, blushing furiously as I went. Everyone who saw me must have known what I was thinking. My eyes met another's, and I quickly looked away, my blush deepening.

Naughty in public. I can does it.

Something electric coursed through me, my skin felt on fire-- so this is what it feels like, doing this. I felt so exposed. I looked over my shoulder, careful not to be followed. If I needed to cross a main aisle, I stuck my head out and looked both ways before crossing, and that very quickly. I grabbed a few things, tossing them carelessly into cart, and then the big reveal, making my way up to the hordes massed around the 3 working registers, stark standouts from the 40 or so ghostly registers standing lonely vigil like some subterranean terra cotta army which means to leap to life again one day. Christmas season, perhaps...

I carefully look around and notice no one staring-- wait! is that a camera phone? Oh noes! I want to get away with it, and I'm horrified of appearing here. Yes. I'm Phlegmfatale, and I am a people of Wal-Mart. I can quit any time I want to. It's not a habit. I know that lots of people must have been relieved to see me walk out the door, but I know that secretly, they long for my return. And just when they think I'm gone for good, I'll come back and wearing something again which will make me blush to consider.

*Black pants, black top, denim jacket-- all inoffensive enough, but paired with my gold smurf shoes and the fluffy day-glo orange house sock-booties, well, how horridly, uh, horrid.

...nesting...

So I normally would not tolerate such a thing, but too late I learned there was a little bird nesting in a bit of wood work on the porch. She always flutters away when I come onto the porch, but she appears to be a house finch. I LOVE finches!



Anyway, I was reading on Wikipedia about them, and it said Dandelion seeds are among the preferred seeds fed to the young. That would explain why they chose a house on this property: I'm up to my eyeballs in dandelions.



As I said, I would not knowingly let a bird build a nest and rear babies in or on my house, but this one already had 3 eggs when I found it, and I would never destroy a nest with eggs*. We'll keep it here until they fledge and bugger off to budgieland. I'm sure I'll be cleaning poo off the porch in a few weeks. More grumbling on that later. In the mean time, here's a snap of my grandbabies:




*Except for that Alien in Aliens. Ripley was completely justified in toasting those crocquettes. Srsly. But that was no bird.

Spinking the monkey?

Douglas Spink was arrested in Washington state this week for running an animal-sex farm. Spinks was a one-time dot.com millionaire and horse trainer who'd later been convicted of drug-smuggling. Apparently horses and large-breed dogs were featured critters on the farm, but the article also mentions some mice had to be euthanized. That ain't right. Someone mused to me that you can't just go straight to hamsters and gerbils, that mice are a preliminary stage. I suppose that makes mice a gateway rodent.

On a horse fancier forum people were saying as far back as a couple years ago that Douglas Spinks was "not good news" and things like "authorities need to be told." Uh, why if the serious horse community knew he was up to mischief two years ago, did it take so long for him to be run out on a rail?

Perhaps more importantly, how does someone win the dot-com lottery and then screw it up? Anyway. It just goes to show you that no amount of wealth or prestige can rival the glory that is a nice, stable relationship. *ahem*

Yes, thank you. I'll be here all week. Be sure to tip your waitress.

Am I the only one who thought of Sex Farm from This Is Spinal Tap?

Scratchin' at your hen house
Sniffin' at your feed bag...

Sunday, Puppy Sunday: Well Well Well

The back of our Great American Hovel™ has what was once apparently a well, but has now been filled in, very much with the shells of pecans.

Guess who likes to nom pecans: if you guessed Our Praline and Our Chuy, you'd be spot-on.

Soon I'll gather all the beggars up from around the yard and burn them in the chimenea. So far have only seen one which looked edible, so it's very much not worth the effort to try to salvage them after spending a winter on the ground. Teh puppehs on the other hand, seem to not be picky at all about their pecans.

Oh well...

First finished room...

well, somewhat finished.







The ceiling throughout the house was beastly acoustic tile, and in some cases was - I dunno! - made out of the same styrofoam as minnow buckets and $2 ice chests from the local stab&grab. You can see the foam tiles in the photo below with the sort of quilted pattern. Yuck! After the ceiling tile came down, then there were layers of masonite just below the shiplap wood ceilings, and decades of fine red dirt billowed as the masonite came down. Then we put up layers of fairly thick plastic to stop more dirt from sifting down from the attic...







Decided beadboard ceiling throughout was the way to go, so this is the bedroom. I did the natural finish Minwax seal on this room, because I think it looks clean and nice. Yes, I actually got on that scaffold and though I didn't do every blasted plank, I started it and put up a fair number of rows of planks. I think it turned out rather well. Plus everything is better with pneumatic tools, yes? *pow!* *pow!* Who knew you could combine a love of shooty goodness with home renovation? Many thanks to Tole for his help and expertise and the generous loan of his scaffold. Also thanks to Mrs. Tole for helping me with the painting of the bedroom. :) Ultimately, this room's walls will be replaced and then I'll invest in a larger, cove-style moulding around the ceiling. For now, though, this is a great improvement.

Anyway, even though there's lots to do throughout the house, I have one neat, freshly done room to wake up in every day. That's very nice. :) The odd thing is that I decided on a color not terribly far from the hue of the previous color, but not quite so canteloupe.

I've great plans for the rest of the place, but it's going to be mainly a question of elbow grease. I'll be posting photos of the painting and such as it comes along.

Aliens among us?

Wednesday night, a giant fireball streaked across the midwestern sky, freaking some folks plumb the heck out. The news articles say it could have been a meteorite. Why don't they say it most likely was a meteorite rather than leaving the door so wide-open for a right nutter to say ...but it could have been an alien spacecraft! ???


Though the deep-seated impetus for the aliens-among-us hysteria may spring from an abiding wish to be strapped to a table and anally probed, I think there's an unspoken desire for some Übermensch to sweep in and save mankind because we are too generally stupid to make a go of it. People feel inept and overwhelmed, and they think someone else could run their lives better-- that's what's at the heart of a welfare-seeking society, yes?

An alien landscape may be a nice place to visit, but I'm sure you wouldn't want to live there, rarified air and all that... They've likely never heard of Emily Post.

...april 15 brought a bit of a scare...

...I haven't mentioned before now, but not long ago a confluence of factors dictated I no longer impose on the hospitality of a kind hostess, so I bought a house closer to the city where I work, cutting my commute by 2/3rds and giving me a lot more time at home and less on the road commuting. I'll always be grateful that she gave me a refuge at a time when the rug had been pulled out from under me.

I've only just moved in recently, so that explains the spotty nature of my posting, and I hope all 8 of my regular readers will forgive the erratic nature of this space.

Thursday morning I left the back door open and let the pups run in and out, as the weather was fine. At once, I realized that I had one small brown hound around, but the white was missing. Miss Praline had gone walkabout.

Panic, my dears. I was frightened.

These pups have a keen sense of our pack order and they haven't been wont to wander. I was so worried. I scooped up Chuy, leashed him and brought her leash, then set out to try to find her. I reasoned I'd do tight circles near the house, starting in the direction of any barking dogs I could hear. I stepped out the front and met a neighbor for the first time who asked if I have a little white dog, said she'd been in his back yard but had then run toward mine.

She must have heard me calling. Then she came running from around the back of my fence. Got my girl back.

Oh Happy Day!

I went to work in my dog-catching grubbies, but happy to know my dogs were mine and at home. Someone gasped their shock at seeing me *not* in high heels. Others remarked on the tennis shoes. I knew I looked right crap, but, again, was quite happy to know my pups were safe.

Went to lunch and drove by H&R Block. CRAP!!! Is this April 15?!!! Stopped in on my lunch [had gone there about 7 weeks ago] and let them finish up my tax return. Paid my dosh for their hard labour and left in plenty of time to copy all my documents before clocking back in.

Was a good day, for a tax day. Here's to near misses. A miss is as good as a mile. Happy to to have my dogs safely under my roof in our little pack, where we belong. :)

cake or death!

Sonnet 116

good old Bill said it so well:

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

To wit:

Love suffereth long, and is kind

Sometimes the old things are best, the old sayings the wisest.

Pet product you never knew you needed: Poop Freeze

I'm not making this up: Poop Freeze is meant to instantly solidify your pet's di-reer or loose stools so you can, well, you can actually get them up in one fell poop. Apparently you squirt the offending product with the spray and it freezes the doo so you can, uh, collect it more effeciently.

I'm sort of in ecstasies of disgust on this one, and also sort of just in ecstasies. This might be kind of cool to have around.

Wow.

Woman sentenced to house arrest for piercing cats...

Um, I'm not saying that everything the ancient Egyptians did was a good idea, but I reckon if it's okay to pierce a newborn baby's ears, then why not a cat's?

I definitely remember seeing statuary from Egypt that included cats with gold earrings. I know that cats' surface skin heals faster than subdermal tissue, and they can be prone to infection, but gosh, I don't know if I agree that piercing cats should be a punishable offense. That said, I think it's sheer lunacy to pierce the ears of an infant. I can't believe a cat'll sit still for it, but if the cats are happy, then what's the harm?

Here's a walk down memory lane-- remember Bonsai Kittens? I remember the ghastly buzz of Very Upset students at my university at that time... *chuckle*

This Is Love by PJ Harvey

LOVE LOVE LOVE this song. Noticed it in the soundtrack of Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back, or somesuch. One of the extra features was deleted scenes. They claimed they blew $40,000 on cgi of a sheep for an extra scene, but I know what they actually spent the money on was the prosthetic schlong on the Scooby-doo-alike.

LOVE PJ Harvey. I think she needs to be force-fed a bunch of Krispy Kreme and about 5 beeves' worth of patty melts, but she is made of win, skinny or no.


Anyway, you hear this song over a scene with a van full of fabulous bitches. It fits, too.


Rock it out, Polly Jean.

Anyone besides me think this is icky? Or just hypocritical?

I've been seeing the name Justin Bieber all over the place recently. Finally, another insipid teenager to supplant the ever-present Taylor Swift in the American psyche. Apparently this kid is 16 and was on Saturday Night Live this weekend in a skit with Tina Fey in which she's a schoolteacher and she's fantasizing about the adorable boy in her class, the excuse being that she's sad, boring and lonely and he's just so adorable and cute.

"I don't know if I want to marry you, or push you around in a stroller."

I think if the teacher in the skit had been male and the student female, it would have been an outrage-- am I right about that? Remember the whole Mary Kay LeTourneau thing? Who is actually warped, here? Or is this actually funny because the opposite sterotype (Lolita type scenario) is such a hackneyed cliche? Or is this just using humour to work out an idea that is awkward and still very much present though unspoken?

I just think in a sauce-for-the-goose world, then if it's not funny in one context, it's not funny in another. Also, in an age in which we've seen another overly-sexualized teen (thank you, Britney) come to adulthood to crash&burn rather publicly, isn't it a little grotesque to play out a tableau in which the child is the sexual agressor?

Or, if you are a flaming liberal, then it's okay for you to invoke the unmentionable. Throw in a literary reference and it's all okay, just like that old man in that famous book by Nabokov.

Come to think of it, don't stand so close to me.

Sunday, Puppy Sunday: The importance of being earnest.

You might be tempted to believe that Miss Praline is sincere and has deep thoughts and earnestly longs to communicate something profound to you, and you would be wrong.

But she is still a little sweetheart. Mostly.

brimming-with-poo.com

Businessweek and MSNBC want you to know "why the Obama economics plan is working."

Ossum! So the price of gas won't be skyrocketing, right?

Right?

*crickets*

Can one's eyes be sprained from excessive rolling?

House Cleaning...

Thursday night brought dear friends Hols and Christina over for dinner. I rustled up some steaks and my beans&taters dish and we had a grand time. After dinner, we sat out back by the chimenea telling stories by firelight and enjoying the fragrance of burning pinon. The across-the-alley neighbors' pet dustmops were outside yipping and my hellpups and C's Italian Greyhounds were running silently around the backyard. Finally, Christina chirped that we should toss something lethal over the fence and they shut up. Then we heard the neighbor lady yelling at her dogs. Then one of C's dogs decided would be a good moment to bark. Droll timing, Tucker! Good times. Thanks for coming over, ladies. :) Love ya!

*******************
AWKWARD

I have no problem with noodism, and in peoples' own home-- well, why the hell not? In fact, I am completely nekkid right now even as I type this. [are you scandalized?] On the other paw, when you are nekkid at home and can clearly be seen by others outside your home, well, I have a problem with that, actually.

At the Trustafarian Incubator I managed in Dallas, there was one older fellow who moved into a loft with huge windows along the front and back space. The front of his apartment faced a walkway and people had no choice but to walk right past his place on the way to their own apartments, and I had more than one person tell me he was obviously quite pleased with his sixty-something physique, and wanted everyone to lookey-see how comfy he was to be nude in his own home. *shudder* Another resident told me he was walking around the property in shorty-shorts with his junk hanging out. Literally. She said there was twig-and-berry sign flapping in the wind. Oh, and he was a regular church-goer. Don't ask me what it all means. I'm still just as puzzled as I was then. I'll bet he has speedos in an array of fashion colors. Ick.

Anyway, this all came rushing back to me when I saw this article about the guy who was prosecuted for standing naked in his doorway where any passerby could see. By all means, be nude as you like, but have a sense of discretion about which occasion you put it all out there, yeah?

When we first moved to Texas, I was walking to school and rounded the corner to the back of the building when I heard a whistle. It was cold out, and I may have been running late. I remember there was no one else around. At the back of a house I'd just passed and about 45 yards away I saw one of the stars of the high school football team standing in his birthday suit at the back door of his house. I went quickly on to class, but I always sort of puzzled over that. How peculiar. I mean, this guy must have been high or drunk. I don't think it was meant as a come-on. Anyone who knows anything about me would know that if they messed with me, my dad would stomp a mudhole in their arse and then walk it dry. I'm not kidding. I didn't sense menace in it, just figured out to generally steer clear of that [natural] red-head. The coming year, I remember being one of the little tin soldiers in marching band and thinking how ironic it was that we played in support of a group that included such a dirtball. Ew. I rarely saw him at school and we never exchanged a word. I reckon I was just some anonymous girl he flashed, probably one of many.

So it felt a little strange to me late last year when he asked me to friend him on Facebook. Uh, Ignore, thank you very much.

Malcolm McLaren died today.

Bafflingly non-sequitir video, but the music always reminds me of nights dancing at On The Air on Lower Greenville, Starck Club and early days of The Video Bar. Of course, Malcolm McLaren managed the Sex Pistols, but Madame Butterfly is what I remember him for. My absolute favorite thing he did was that wonderful re-tooling of the Lakme flower duet that was the theme music for British Airways through the nineties. Sitting in my seat on the plane, putting on the headphones as the crew would be readying for takeoff, that music would be on permanent loop, always so grand, elegant and at once classic and utterly new, and I knew I was going someplace wonderful.

Thanks for the music, Malcolm.

Etsy is as Etsy does...

I love Etsy. Truly I do.

There's all kinds of fabulous pretty things to lose yourself perusing on the site.

I got one of these little brooches a long time ago, and it still makes me grin every time I see it. I also have these lucite earrings in heavy rotation in my wardrobe, still.

I'm thrilled by a site which so consistently surprises me. Still I can't decide if I'm delighted or horrified by the bedazzled tampon finger puppet I found there today. Jim Henson never meant it to be this way. I think mebbe I'd like it better if it were smiling.

I thought the wheels might be about to fall off when...

...a coworker - B - asked me, giggling, "did J tell you about her dream about you and me?"

Uh, no.

She's giggling so much, I think this is either going to be very good or very, very bad.

She collected herself and said J had a dream that we were all at a party and that I was puking and B was holding my hair up. What am I to make of that? Some times a sick barf is just a sick barf?

B went on to say she really is that kind of a friend and would totally hold my hair up if I ever got sick. Nice to know someone's got your back. :P

As difficult as it may seem to believe...

...my dear friend Rosie manages the literary series for a music and arts festival in England. She was in North Texas last week in the town in Collin County where we both used to live.

Another friend of ours runs a wonderful restaurant and put on a little dinner party in Rosie's honor on Sunday night.

All day Sunday was overcast and brooding and it seemed it might finally rain in the early evening when everyone started arriving for the party. Early arrivals sat in the garden and chatted, and I was thrilled to see my first hummingbird of the year. The redbuds were blooming, and there were huge, fresh yellow roses from the garden all over the table.

It was very very grand. I should have taken more pictures, but I was so busy enjoying the lovely company. Alas, I had to leave early, as I had to be at work in Elsewhere on Monday morning.

The food was gorgeous and it was such a fine occasion. Everyone was actually quite dressed up, and I find no one does garden partie s like English folk. At such moments life seems perfectly sweet and perfectly perfect. So happy to see good friends again, and to renew acquaintances.

This was my house once...

This weekend I went to the town in Collin County where I used to live. My girlfriend Rosie was visiting from England so I went there to visit her and stayed overnight. Was odd to drive around the town there and see the old sights, including the old house where I used to live. I bought this house in the mid 90s and sold it in 2000. The house was improved when I sold it, but nowhere near finished, and the people who bought it have made it so much better. Was nice to see it looking so good, and in the very colours I would have done, myself. :)

More tomorrow.

Sunday, Puppy Sunday: Remote from Collin County...

Puppies LURVESES the new sofa, precious. :P

...jiggity jig...

Spent Friday night at Mom and Dad's. :)

Dad went to Arkansas recently and met his siblings up at Grandma and Grandpa's house to sort through things, a bittersweet task. Dad told me about some wacky cat ashtray he was going to give me-- said I was the one person he thought would appreciate this oddity.

While I was sitting at the computer a few minutes ago, Dad came into the room and said "you want something you'll treasure always?" I said sure, and expected to see a kitty ashtray only an unquiet mind could appreciate. He held his hand out to me, gently cradling a small thing. "Now, don't ever get rid of this."

It was a white gold Swiss watch he got for Grandma when he was 17. Made payments on it. Lovely thing. Still ticks, too. How many times did that sweet lady look at this watch?

I'll be holding on to it. Thanks, Dad.

A Feast At Midnight

Lovely film you may not have heard of, but a delight if you enjoy cooking. And Christopher Lee. :)



The child of a great chef is bundled off to a boy's boarding school and, depressed by the horrid food, he forms a little gourmet club of boys who sneak into the kitchen at night and whip up culinary delights. Very cute movie. :)
Couldn't find the original trailer but the clip above is Christopher Lee, primarily, and the clips below feature the chef played by Samuel West, son of Prunella Scales who menaced John Cleese so beautifully as Sybil in Fawlty Towers. :)

Uno and Dos

One of my favorite people I met when managing lofts in Dallas was Erin, a gorgeous redheaded woman of Irish descent who had a pair of wiener dogs.

I'd never really been around wiener dogs before, but I found this odd little pair rather fetching, at first, and then I figured out how incredibly smart they were and I was utterly charmed. I had observed that people who were into daschunds were VERY into them, sometimes sporting whole heards of the little tyrants. There must be something to that.

Uno, the black little rascal was given her by her first husband. Her second husband gave her the piebald Dos. Anyway, we were a very dog-friendly property, and I would keep dog treats in my office for the various hounds about the place. Uno and Dos always knew where to come for a snack. Being the nearest apartment to the gate, they quickly learned the sound of my vehicle, and would pester Erin until she let them out, and they'd come tearing up the hill to my office door. I was horrified they'd get run over, but they survived the whole experience.

Anyway, I was soon besotted with them, and it was probably inevitable that I would one day have a dog that was half-- if not all-- wiener. Anyway, here are the grand wee beasts. :) Uno looks very sweet, but he's eerily knowing and kind of evil. He's waaaay too smart, whereas Dos is sort of like Odie. Around Erin's house, Dos is also known as McLuvin.

Ossum dogs. Gotta love 'em.