Maybe This is Why I'm Still Single (Subtitle: If I Ever Go Missing, It's Probably My Fault)

Sometimes, when I'm at my most paranoid, I have a fear that I'm going to end up tied up in some serial killer's basement.

This is not an altogether unfounded fear. Not only do I have a dark streak that tends to find things like serial killers fascinating but, also, I tend to be a bit of a sucker for a hard luck case. The combination of this would probably end up as a statistically high possibly that I will, in fact, end up in a serial killer's basement.

Throughout my life, I have always been a sucker for the hard luck cases. This is why, when I was in infant school (U.S. Translation: elementary school) in the UK, I was the girl who ended up sitting with Nicholas Watts, the most bullied boy in our class, at lunch and who'd feel so bad that poor little Nicholas was lonely and didn't have many friends that I'd invite him to play with me and my friends. We'd play girly things and make him join in- he'd have to clean our Wendy House and do the laundry in our pretend games. I hope Nicholas turned out ok- we did treat him just like he was one of the girls.

In Junior school, it was Adil- the nice Indian boy who moved to the UK from India with his family. He didn't have many friends because kids could be mean but we were fascinated by his exoticness and we let him play netball with us. This was fun until Adil made friends with some boys and ditched us to play cricket. When he accidentally hit a cricket ball that hit me in the eye, I stopped being so fond of Adil because he laughed when he did it. When you're nine and someone laughs at you when they make you bleed, it's not easily forgiven.

This has been the case through my life. In high school in the U.S., it was 'Joe' whose real name was...Joe. He was one of those weird kids who marches to his own beat. Some of the kids called him 'retarded' but he wasn't- he was just different. I was nice to Joe because I can't stand seeing people get picked on like that. He was a little odd and I did laugh with my friends about some of the things he did yet I tried to never be rude to him. This ended up with Joe having a bit of a crush on me and he'd deliver gifts to me when I was at work in the video store. He made me mixed tapes and wrote me long poems. I broke his heart gently but it was a lesson in that fine line between kindness and...overkindness.

I've had a few other males like Joe who liked me because I was nice. This, in no way, is me tooting my horn about how great I am and how kind I am. This is merely my way of explaining my basement-serial-killer theory. You see, I tend to try to be nice in general. I don't tolerate rude people well. I don't like snotty people and I don't like people who treat others badly. I have my limits. Yet when it comes to people in general, I try to be nice .

This is not always a good thing. With Joe, it was a harmless teenage crush. In college, it was a guy we'll call Barnabas. That is NOT hiks real name. Barnabas was, in short, a weirdo. He was the kind of person who was very, very intense. His way of looking at things was rather off-kilter. He didn't watch TV because he found it banal, trite and 'frankly, a waste of his brainpower'. If Barnabas had been the genius he thought he was, this would have been understandable but, well, he wasn't. He was just an oddball who wore the same jacket everywhere, everyday, regardless of the weather. He found me because of a paper I'd written for a professor we'd shared. He saw the paper in my professor's office and was fascinated by the topic I'd chosen to write about and he asked to read the whole thing. He found me a day later by calling my dorm room and asking to talk to me about the paper.

For some reason, he seemed to like talking to me. I found him fascinating. He was probably one moral conscience away from being a serial killer, honestly but when you're 20 and in college, it seems intriguing rather than dangerous. Long story short, he became 'my friend' and would engage me in long, late night conversations about everything. Over time, he got more scary and I backed away. The last time I talked to him, he called me and the first thing he asked was if I'd had sex. I'm not kidding. He was rather alarming in his intensity about the issue and he asked some very inappropriate questions. Needless to say, by that time, it was quite a few years out of college and I was wise enough to recognize dangerous behaviour. Thus, that was our last conversation ever.

The reason I'm telling you all this is because I'm a bit alarmed by Larry the Potential Serial Killer. I try to be nice to him. Tonight, when I was walking the dogs, I was still wearing my work clothes and I literally head him say "wow" when he saw me. I wasn't wearing anything terribly risque though I was wearing something that I knew looked nice on me. He proceeded to corner me and tell me absolutely everything about his day while doing that close talking thing that is his specialty. It doesn't help that I think he's single again. He seems to have had a lady friend for a while but I haven't seen her or her car in his driveway lately. He wouldn't let me leave. Even though the dogs were straining to continue our walk, Larry kept stepping in front of me to keep me talking. He also suggested we 'get together' sometime, especially in the winter when it's cold outside.

Now, I'm not serious when I call him a potential serial killer. You know that. He's odd and he's a little too friendly but I jest when I write it. However, I do think that I should probably not have been quite so friendly to Larry. I do have a tendency to attract strange men by being nice to them. The ones I've told you about are only a sample, believe it or not.

I'm not sure what to do, honestly. I don't really want to spend cold winter nights with Larry the Potential Serial Killer. I just don't really know how to be rude. I don't know if it's because I'm British and we're just polite or I just don't like being mean but I can't figure out how to ignore Larry. He's nice. He's friendly. How do you ignore him. I've tried the polite wave which is fine when the route the pups and I take doesn't go right by his house. However, when he descends on us out of nowhere, there's no way to avoid him.

Perhaps I could use some tips on how to be mean. Again, this is not me trying to get accolades for my 'niceness'. It's quite the opposite. It's just my way of saying that I'm a wee bit afraid I might end up like Catherine in "Silence of the Lambs"- trapped in a basement because I helped some poor stranger with a broken arm load a sofa into his van.

I'd like to think I'm not that daft. I have read the non-fiction accounts of many a serial killer and I happen to know that this particular broken arm trick was an M.O. of Ted Bundy so at least I'm aware.

It's just that I'm also a sucker. If I ran into someone, say, like Larry who I accidentally invited over to share my firepit, what's to say that he won't show up and stab me to death all because I accidentally invited him over.

I suppose it would be my own fault. I am a bit of a magnet for weirdos though and I never have figured out why. It does make life interesting but, well, maybe life should be that interesting.

Nevertheless, I'll make sure I lock my doors and windows. Just in case.

Happy Wednesday!

Accidental Invitations

It’s feeling a lot like autumn out there. Last night, we had a mini storm come in and by this morning, it had dropped about 20 degrees. I have to say, it feels wonderful and given that it’s almost the calendar start of Fall, I can’t help but want to welcome it with open arms. I’m actually over that hump where I feel like summer is being usurped. We’ve had enough days where it’s too chilly to wear open-toed shoes and I’ve resorted to my boots and socks and so, for me, it’s autumn.

This doesn’t mean I’m ready to decorate for the season but it does mean that I can start dressing a little warmer and appreciating the start of autumnal thinking.

I did finally get my bench built. Let me tell you, building a cast iron-backed bench by oneself is NOT an easy task. You’re supposed to screw the really heavy back piece into each side which would be fine if someone was available to hold it but, alas, as a singleton, I was on my own. The dogs were no help. They skedaddled as soon as I started swearing at the blasted thing. Yes, there was plenty of swearing. I got hot, sweaty and generally quite frustrated.

However, I persevered. I managed to use the wall as a support for the legs and with some creative maneuvering got it done. I now have a bench and you can even sit on it. The reason I’m telling you this is that the bench is involved in my autumn plans. I wanted to get it done and outside so that I had somewhere to sit while enjoying a fire in my new firepit on a cool evening.

The only thing I’m a bit worried about is that I might have accidentally invited Larry the Potential Serial Killer to join me. You see, I was walking the girls on Tuesday night and he was outside. We chatted politely about the weather as you so often do with neighbours. He mentioned how he wanted to get “one of those there firepits you see in Lowes” and I stupidly said, “I have one of those.” His eyes lit up and he said “You do? Well, that’s neato. Maybe I’ll come to yours then.” Thinking he was joking, I said “sure!”. I WAS joking. Larry was not. He said, “I’ll be over then.” And he meant it.

Lesson learned here: Do not stupidly agree to things if you think someone is joking because he might not be.

Now I’m a bit worried that he might come over if he sees me having a fire in the firepit. I suppose it might be ok except, well, he’s a wee bit creepy and, also, at least 15 years older than me. Methinks I do not want Larry in my backyard when it’s dark outside. It didn’t help that while I was talking to him, he had been roaming around the backyard with no shoes or socks on his feet. I don’t have a problem with feet, per se. There are some men- surfers for example- who seem perfectly natural when they’re barefoot. Then there are men like Larry who just look…odd…when they’re barefoot.

Oh well, you live and learn, I suppose. It’s not going to stop me from enjoying my firepit- at least not unless he actually does show up. Since the dogs aren’t really fond of him, I expect they won’t be too happy about it either. He often tries to pet them when we go out for a walk and they sort of duck away and hide behind me whenever he does. They don’t do that with everyone.

Sookie tends to be a bit jumpy anyway. Today at lunch, I came home to find that one of the girls had an accident on the floor. This never happens and I mean never. I was a little surprised and annoyed but what can you do but clean it up? Then, Sookie started acting a little odd. I gave her a treat and she scoffed it down like normal. Then a few moments later when I gave her another one, she ignored it and tried to sit on my lap. Then, she suddenly backed away and started to run outside. I was worried she was having tummy issues and followed her. Nope, she just wanted to be outside. Then, when I went back to work, I noticed that she came in when I called her but then, when she normally hops in her crate, she didn’t. She tried to go outside again.

I figured out what was bothering her. I’d noticed my smoke detector had been chirping because I needed to change the battery. She was afraid of the chirp. Each time it made it’s annoying sound, she tried to run away. When I got back to work, I googled this to see if it was normal. Apparently, there are quite a few dogs out there who get upset/panicked/terrified by this mere chirping sound.

I did feel better. I had been worried she wasn’t well but it turns out she was just frightened which is still bad but easily remedied by removing the dying battery in the smoke detector for now. My guess is that she’s the one who had ‘the accident’ and was so frightened she couldn’t hold her bladder. Poor little thing- what seems like a mildly irritating noise to me must be a great deal more worrying to her.

Sookie is a worrier. She likes things to be the same all the time. She doesn’t like change and she most certainly doesn’t like it when her sister is naughty. Also, she doesn’t like strangers, particularly men. She’s quite protective of me which is both good and bad.

Thus, I’m hoping that she’ll be enough to deter Larry the Potential Serial Killer when he comes to visit. Of course, I’m really hoping he simply doesn’t come and visit but lately, nothing’s been quite going as planned so I’m not holding my breath.

Still, I can’t let it deter me from the fact that I’m starting to accept that summer is a fleeting visitor and that autumn is taking over. I don’t want it to come too fast but I do want it to come.

I’m ready.

Groundhog...Day

So, apparently, there is a groundhog running rampant around our neighbourhood. According to Larry the Potential Serial Killer, it has done major damage to his garden and he is not a happy camper.

Larry the Potential Serial Killer is precisely one of those people who actually says, “I am not a Happy Camper” (and it sounds capitalized when he says it, too). He actually sounds rather a lot like Ned Flanders from “The Simpsons” and even salutes me with a “Howdy, stranger” when he seems me walking with the pups. He’s very much a “gee-whizz”er meaning that he says things like “gee whiz- that groundhog surely is a nasty critter!”

I feel bad for Larry. He’s rather upset. The mean groundhog ate all his ‘sweet pertaters” and beans. He had apparently planted his sweet pertaters in a barrow and the groundhog had devoured them. I’m not quite sure why they were in a barrow but well, I’m not excited Captain MonkeyPants of the Greenthumb. I like to garden but my knowledge of gardening involves the following:

1) You dig a bit of ground
2) You plant a seed/bulb
3) You water it.
4) You hope it grows
5) You see weeds growing and occasionally pull them up
6) When the weeds grow out of control due to my severe case of Weed Pulling Avoidation, I half-heartedly dig over the soil where I can, slap a bit of weed control fabric over the top and cover it with pretty mulch.
7) If this is not possible because I have already planted stuff that’s overrun by weeds, I try to daintily spray weed killer on the weeds, avoiding the real plants. This inevitably doesn’t work as I usually accidentally end up killing my plants. Thus, I don’t use this method much.
8) Eventually giving up, hoping I can still pick my tomatoes and vowing to be a better weeder next year.

So, you see, while I like gardening, I’m not a die-hard gardener. I also don’t grow sweet potatoes or, even, sweet pertaters because while I enjoy the occasional yam, it’s not a huge part of my diet and I’d never really have too much use for them. Tomatoes, peppers, basil and corn, on the other hand…those I grow. You don’t really grow any of those in a barrow. I try to grow them in pots. This works well for the basil. The tomatoes start out well but end up being too big for the pot and transplanting them never works well for me.

Still, it doesn’t stop me from feeling bad for Larry. Last year, I had half my ‘crop’ devoured by a bunny including all my swiss chard, my corn and my sunflowers. It made me very unhappy. This year, thanks to the fearsome powers of Sookie and Rory, the bunny has been scarce. The one time it did appear, it was chased around frantically until the poor thing almost collapsed with exhaustion before making it out of a tiny hole in the fence. Having dogs is a good thing.

I’m hoping having the dogs means the groundhog won’t visit my garden. I do believe Larry. I’ve seen a couple of groundhogs capering around on this grassy area at the end of my neighbourhood. They’re actually quite cute. Of course, if they were eating my veggies, I probably wouldn’t feel that way. However, having seen the movie, “Groundhog Day,” one too many times, I always have the desire to yell “Don’t drive angry, Phil!” at the groundhogs. Not that I think they’d get my slightly obscure pop culture reference. Nor would they get it if they said, “I’m Ned! Ned Ryerson” or “Watch out for that last step, it’s a doozy!”

Ok, fine, I probably have seen that movie one too many times but I find the comedy of Bill Murray rather hilarious. I much preferred his “Ghostbusters”/”What about Bob”/”Groundhog Day”/”Man Who Knew Too Little” days to his deeper more artsy “Royal Tennenbaum” or “Life Aquatic” days. I miss Bill Murray although “Zombieland” made me love him again.

Sorry. I digress. I do that a lot, don’t I?

Back to the groundhog. I think I’ve actually seen the evil eater of sweet pertaters. On Saturday, I got up early and took the girls for a walk before it got too hot. There was a large furry creature ambling around across the road along with two squirrels. At first I thought it was a raccoon. It could have been a raccoon, I suppose but now I prefer to think that it was the groundhog and I saw it en route to doing more mischief.

Larry gave me the warning about the groundhog last night as I walked the girls. He was fresh off the discovery that his veggies had been devoured and he was hopping mad. The reason I know he was hopping mad was that, well, he said “I’m hopping mad!”

I do appreciate the warning because I do want to keep my precious veggies safe. I’ve worked hard to get them to wear they’re almost ready to pick and if I find a groundhog in my garden…well….I’d probably be hopping mad too. I suppose I could set Sookie and Rory on it but while they think they’re enormous tough dogs, they’re a bit smaller than a groundhog and those things have sharp teeth. Maybe they could tag team it or something.

Either way, I will be watching out for the nasty thing. The last thing I want is to come home and find out that all of my heirloom tomatoes are gone. I don’t even know if groundhogs like tomatoes but I admit, Larry the Potential Serial Killer has got me a bit nervous.

I suspect that it won’t be the last time the groundhog strikes. There are plenty of more-open gardens around the ‘hood where the vegetables are easily accessible. The horrible neighbour in me hopes that the groundhog goes for these before it goes to mine. That’s not very nice of me, is it? But fresh, organic tomatoes are serious business. Sure, you can buy them at the farmer’s market but it’s never the same as going outside, picking a ripe tomato off the vine and eating it there.

If that ground hog dares touch my tomatoes, I won’t be a Happy Camper either.
I’ll keep you posted. At least I didn’t grow sweet pertaters. It seems to like those best.

Happy Wednesday!

Beautiful Weather for a Busy Weekend

This was one of those weekends when I didn't have anything planned but it ended up being a blur of business anyway.

It helped that Saturday was an absolutely beautiful day. Having had snow only two days before, it was unexpected but it ended up being almost 60 degrees, sunny, blue skies...perfect. It was the type of day where you feel guilty for staying inside.

Thus, I spent the majority of the day outside, clearing the autumn and winter debris from the garden and sprucing it up, ready to start planting/landscaping when spring genuinally arrives. I had planned on taking the girls for a walk over the park but instead, they spent the time happily playing outside in the garden while I worked. We compensated by walking around the neighbourhood twice. It was a busy walk due to the weather. We saw Larry-the-Potential-Serial-Killer for the first time since the autumn. He was very friendly. The pups and I have actually had to avoid his house for the past few days due to a very Dead Squirrel that was laying on the edge of his property.

Dead Squirrel posed a problem because the girls could smell it and desperately wanted to claim it as their prize. The first day we discovered Dead Squirrel, I was just glad the leashes I walk the girls on were strong. Sookie and Rory both whined and wimpered desperately to be allowed to go get Dead Squirrel but, alas, I had to play the mean mum card and say "No." Also, it violates our Squirrel Rules anyway: Sookie and Rory may claim any squirrel that they personally catch. Squirrel must be in full health when caught. Already Dead Squirrels do not count and thus will not be claimed.

We really do have Squirrel Rules. I like to pretend the girls understand them even though I know they don't care. Squirrels to dachshunds are a little like crack to an addict: They desperately want the squirrel, they need the squirrel. Nothing else counts but getting the squirrel.

Fortunately, squirrels are too fast for the girls and they can climb trees. This, however, never prevents a chase anyway.

I had to explain to Larry-the-Potential-Serial-Killer why we were avoiding his property. He said he'd take care of Dead Squirrel for us so we could walk by. He's actually very nice like that. Also, I'm sure he didn't really want a decaying rodent on his lawn, anyway.

Dead Squirrel was gone by Sunday. Unfortunately, so was the nice weather. We woke up to a grey day that was almost 20 degrees cooler than the day before. Also, it didn't help that I completely forgot about Daylight Savings Time. I actually knew that it was happening this weekend but completely forgot to change the clocks before I went to bed lst night. Thus, when I woke up this morning, my alarm clock read 8:40 a.m. Then when we got up, I looked at my cell phone and was shocked to see it said it was almost 10 a.m. Thus, the lightbulb in my brain went on and I figured it out. Still, I'm not a fan of the time change. Falling back is ok, I suppose but it's the springing forward I don't like. We lose an hour of sleep and it's not that easy to tell our body clock that it's seven p.m. when we know it's really only 6 p.m. It'll take a couple of weeks before it starts feeling natural.

Even with the clock change surprise this morning, I still had a productive day. I finally got my paint picked out for my family room so I spent the day cleaning the room, taping the edges and taking down curtain rods. All that's left is to actually paint it which I forsee happening next weekend. Hopefully it well be slightly easier than the cranberry paint debacle of 2009.

All in all, working in the garden, working around the house and walking 2.5 miles each day with the dogs has made for a busy weekend. It's the type of weekend that makes me feel like I need a hot bath to soothe my aching muscles but also that it's good to have aching muscles.

Tomorrow it'll be back to work. It's another Monday. As we all know, I'm not particularly a fan of those but I'm bound and determined to make sure tomorrow is a good Monday. After all, I've had a lovely weekend with lots of puppy time as well as time to appreciate being a homeowner as well as some much needed fresh air. It really doesn't get much better than that.

Thus, I will make sure to carry that feeling forward, no matter how grey and gloomy Monday tries to be. Although, if it wanted to be sunny, warm and pretty outside, that would definitely help.

Fingers crossed!

Happy Monday.

The Impossibility of Explaining Daylight Saving Time to a Couple of Puppies...

It was feeling a lot less like Christmas today.

Even though we woke up to a lightly frosted world, the day warmed up so much that a jacket wasn't necessary. I'd say this was odd given that it was pouring down with snow on Friday night but this is the Midwest where you can have an 80 degree day in December and a 30 degree day in May.

It was nice that it was so warm outside. It made walking the puppies more pleasant. Lately, it's been so chilly, I've started to think gloves might be necessary. The puppies don't seem to mind. I haven't put their winter coats on them yet but when the temperature drops again, it'll be time.

They won't like it but there's a lot of things they don't like. There are things they don't understand...like daylight saving's time.

It's very hard to try to explain to little furry creatures- albeit cute little furry creatures- about daylight savings time. When their basic understanding of the human vocabulary can be boiled down into several meaningful words ("Rory", "Sookie," "Biscuit?", "Outside?" and "Walk"), explaining the concept of why it's dark at 6:15 p.m. and why it's now light when we get up is sort of impossible.

They don't care. They are waking up an hour earlier than the clocks read. Yes, we as humans try to adapt to the fact that 6 a.m. was 7 a.m. when, a few days ago, 7 a.m. was 7 a.m.

When I got home this evening at 5:30 p.m., it was already getting dark. In their crates, they stared at me accusingly as if to say, "MOTHER! It's late! Where HAVE you BEEN?"

They don't understand that it's not late. It is, in fact, the usual time that I get home from work.

When we walked this evening, it was by twilight. There were no sparkly vampires, thankfully, only a weirdly hovering Larry who was standing by his car as if waiting for something but I couldn't figure out what. For some reason, in the half-light of day/night, he couldn't seem to figure out who I was even though it wasn't that dark and there's no one else in the neighbourhood that I know of who has two twin black and tan dachshunds and takes the route we do. I left Larry to his own devices and decided that making conversation was probably not the best idea.

The puppies seemed to enjoy their twilit walk though. We saw a couple of bunnies which, of course, sent them into jubilant attempts at trying to catch the bunnies. We saw a couple of squirrels. Rory dived in a large pile of leaves. She also investigated a pile of tree branches that had been trimmed and left for pickup and managed to get tangled up in them and toppled the pile. We attempted to tidy it up but we walked away quickly.

Now, even though it's not very late, the puppies seem confused as though they don't understand why I'm not nested on the couch ready to watch TV so they can cuddle with me and warm their chilly noses. A week ago, I would have been ready but this week, it's an hour earlier.

I've tried to explain it to them. The only problem is that honestly, I have a bit of trouble explaining it to myself. I know it was a method of saving energy back in wartimes or whatever but, really, do we need it to be getting dark as we're coming out of work? Couldn't we, you know, just let 5 p.m. be 5 p.m. instead of 4 p.m.?

It's all rather befuddling, I find. No wonder the puppies are confused.

Ah well, they're get the hang of it soon enough.

I hope.

Happy Tuesday!

Giant Inflatable Santas Already?

Well, we're in November now. Halloween is officially behind us. I can safely say this because as I blog, my neighbours down the street are attempting to blow up an rather enormous inflatable Santa Claus.

This is not new. I just looked back on last year's blogs and saw that the same neighbour had been almost as early last year with his Decking of the Halls. This year, he's two days earlier. I should be getting used to it by now. I suppose they're trying to be the first to inspire the neighbourhood to get into the holiday spirit. I live in that type of neighbourhood. I've noticed as I walk the pups that where there's one house that's decorated for Halloween, you'll find the neighbours on either side, for several houses down, also bedecked for the holiday. Then there will be a gap where there will be undecorated houses. Then there'll be another pocket of houses, all festooned with decorations.

Christmas is the same way. If one house has lights and inflatables, the houses around him will also have holiday decor. It may not be inflatable but it's giving it a pretty good challenge for glitz and sparkle.

Still, right now, Mr. Giant Inflatable Santa Claus is alone in his attempts to decorate for Christmas. I can't help but think that might last for at least another couple of weeks until people physically start craving Thanksgiving turkey and, as a penance for the calories they WILL consume, they put all their energy into decorating early. Right before Thanksgiving, it's forgiveable. I mean, what's a few more days before the start of the Offical Deck The Halls Holiday Season?

Nevertheless, as much as I adore Chrismas and the holiday season, I haven't forgotten that it was just Halloween yesterday. At times, I was besieged by trick or treaters and yet, at the end of the two hour candy-giving-out period, I still managed to have some candy left over. Granted, I had deliberately picked out every single blue raspberry flavoured Tootsie Roll pop from the Costco sized bulk package I'd bought but even without my small little crime, I still had plenty of sugary treats left.

I'm quite glad about that. If I'd have run out this year, I think I might have had to hide next year. I don't think there were quite as many kids coming through. I was slightly disappointed in the lack of costume-efforts in some of the cases. I don't mind high schoolers trick or treating, even though some people think they're a little old. However, if they can't be bothered to even attempt to dress up and come around with their plastic grocery bag and ask for candy, they're not going to get much from me. To me, Halloween is about creativity and having fun with the spirit of the holiday. If you're just in it for the free sugar, then I'm not going to reward you the way I do the other kids who do make an effort.

I did have some cute kids come through. There were a lot of parents trick or treating for their young 'uns this year. They'd wheel the tiny kids up my driveway in their strollers. The little kids were adorable but clearly not used to people just handing them candy for the sake of it. I tried to make sure I gave the really little kids soft treats like Gummi Life Savers or, at worst, Twizzlers. Jolly Ranchers were reserved for the lazy high schoolers who were really just out begging. I gave the cute toddlers Skittles and a Tootsie pop. I let the elementary kids/middle schoolers choose from my bowl if they were dressed appropriately. I think my favourite costume went to the four-year-old Frankenstein who was green from head to toe and complete with bolts and square head. He was also smiling like a fiend. Any kid that can go that far to dress up and still be enjoying himself earns himself four pieces of my sugar-filled snacks.

What I also enjoyed was the fact that since I live down the street from the police station, the patrol cars were not only out, checking on the unchaperoned kids and keeping an eye on their safety but they were also giving out their own Halloween candy. It's nice to see them being so responsible yet also getting into the spirit.

What I didn't enjoy was seeing this rather creepy person riding around on his bicycle with a Michael Meyers hockey mask and stopping in the middle of the street to just stare at the kids. As an adult, I thought this was a little creepy. I don't mean in the horror-film-I'm-going-to-axe-you-sort-of-creepy, I mean in the "I'm a creepy neighbourhood weirdo and I might just "Lovely Bones" you in my basement sort of creepy. I thought, initially, it was one of those high school boys I see from time to time in the neighbourhood who are the stereotypical geeks. They slink around with a few other high schoolers, clearly too cool to do much but not cool enough to do anything.

Well, I was wrong there. Mr. Michael Meyers Hockey Mask Face turned out to be, you guessed it, Larry the Potential Serial Killer.

Yes. Instead of giving out candy to kids like a normal nice neighbour, Larry the Potential Serial Killer was riding around on a borrowed bicycle, trying to scare the crap out of kids.

I know that the bicycle was borrowed because he came up my driveway to my front door in an attempt to scare me. Since I'm not a complete moron, I had figured out who it was ahead of time. Larry proceeded to tell me all about his adventures as the Weirdo in the Mask on the Bicycle. It turns out that someone had seen him riding around on his borrowed bike and called the police. Larry, in turn, had defended himself to the police who, apparently, know him and are his 'buddies.' He had told them that yes, he could understand people being scared of him but it was 'the nature of the costume,' that people were scared.

Me, personally...well, I wasn't scared by the Michael Meyers mask as much as I was alarmed that a forty-something-year-old man felt like that was the best thing to do on Halloween night in a neighbourhood full of little children. What's wrong with a fog machine and a scary Halloween CD playing?

After Larry had told me his sad tale of being 'warned by the police to stop his creepy behaviour' (my paraphrasing), he tried to get me to invite him in. In turn, I thrust my candy bowl at him and said, "Have a lollipop." He didn't want one. It didn't stop me from saying, "Oh, hey, look, more kids!" and ignoring him in favour of the cute moppets who were marching up my driveway for their Skittles.

This was my Halloween night. The candy held up. The puppies had a bit of a yip but actually were pretty good considering the strangeness of the evening to them. I'm sure being gated in the kitchen while fairies, Yodas, Spidermen and monsters rang the doorbell for their candy was a strange occurance in the life of the pup.

Of course, they haven't seen the giant Santa Claus in the neighbours yard yet. They haven't even begun to see strange. I'm personally a little worried about the Christmas tree and their love of biting pretty, shiny, swinging things.

Still, though my neighbours with the giant inflatable Santa might disagree, that's a few weeks off yet.

Happy Tuesday!

Indecisive Autumn

We are having a very peculiar Autumn so far. It's usual to have an Indian Summer during the earlier part of the season. It gets cold and then, suddenly, it gets warm for a while. In our case, we're having our Indian Summer all over the place. A few nights ago, it was frosty outside. The days were chilly enough that a jacket was necessary for going out in the morning. Even during the day, it was nice to have an extra layer. When it's like this, it's too cold to sleep with the windows open and the body heat of two little puppies is rather nice to have at night.

Then it gets warm. It's done this a few times now. Yesterday, it was a warm, almost hot day. The night temperature got down to 63 degrees. For us, this is considered rather hot for a night in October. It means you wake up at 2 a.m. sweating because you've put the thicker comforter on the bed and the puppies are still burrowing under it, adding more heat to the situation.

We also haven't had any rain. When I say no rain, I mean literally no rain. We're almost 8 inches short for the year. We were supposed to get some rain today. Alas, no rain. Tomorrow, we're supposed to have heavy rain. I'm hoping this is true.

The thing is, while it's nice to have a variety of temperatures, it makes it a little hard to plan things like Autumn meals. For example, silly me listened to Frank Marzullo and the Fox 19 Storm Tracker Weather and I believed him when he said it was supposed to be cold and rainy on the Sunday of this past weekend. It ended up being almost 80 degrees and partly sunny. I had planned a nice warm Autumn meal- my mother's 'mincemeat' recipe with noodles and lettuce salad. I still made it. It was still tasty. Yet it wasn't the warm, comfort food of a chilly, rainy Autumn night. It was the rather overly heavy meal on a balmy Indian Summer night.

Tonight, we're trying for something a little less comfort food and a little more fun. Gorganzola mashed potatoes, grilled steaks with red wine-braised mushrooms and haricot vert beans with herbs. It sounds fancy but I'm just using up things I have on hand. The nice thing is that now I've mostly learned to cook, I can make a pretty good meal out of a few ingredients. It's all rather fun.

The other thing about this peculiar Autumn is walking the dogs. Some evenings, I need a jacket. Some evenings, I don't. It's hard to tell sometimes. Tonight, there was a slight breeze but not enough to require a jacket. It was enough to scatter the carefully raked piles of leaves that are sitting in heaps by the curb. I don't have enough leaves to do much raking. That's the nice thing about not having my own trees. The puppies would probably like some leaf piles but considering the mess they make with the few leaves we have in the garden, I think I'm ok with them having a nose in the leaf piles we pass as we walk.

Tonight, there were lots of people out raking. Larry the Potential Serial Killer was one. We haven't seen him since he stalked us in his car and I had this horrible feeling I was going to get trapped. Fortunately, Mike (he of the very large backyard and also the recipient of my unwanted pampas grass) saved us by being out for a stroll and stopping to chat to Larry not long before the puppies and I had no choice but to pass by. Thus, Larry was preoccupied and couldn't stop for one of his up-close-and-personal chats without being rude to Mike. He did, however, make an overly enthusiastic suggestion that I join him for a bonfire in his garden sometime soon.

We'll see about that. Given that I call Larry a potential serial killer, it's probably not likely to happen. He does make me a little uncomfortable. Maybe he can invite Mike instead. They both seem quite lonely. They're both unmarried men in their mid-to-late forties. They could have a famous time together!

Still, he's not the only one contemplating leaf fires. Someone had just started one as the pups and I continued our sojourn. While the smell of leaf fires is appealing, this particular one was a little smokier than the normal fire and the smoke was a little much. It was bad enough for us as we passed by. I can't imagine being the one standing over the fire.

Nevertheless, the fire made the air smell Autumnal. It would have been just a little nicer had it been crisper in temperature but it was still nice. I'm hoping it's not the last leaf fire we see/smell this year.

Although I think I'll pass on Larry's.

Happy Tuesday!

Close Encounters of the Larry Kind...

We're finally having a dark and stormy night here in Cincinnati, Ohio. Last night, we had the dark part and the storm rumbled in the distance but it never arrived. Tonight it arrived in full force. At one point, I thought there was a tornado in the back garden. The wind was blowing so hard and there were so many leaves blowing down from the trees that it was a little alarming.

Naturally, the puppies were in the midst of it, frolicking amongst the cascading leaves. They aren't afraid of storms at all and quite enjoy running out to see what all the fuss is about any time there's a clap of thunder.

I like storms a lot though sometimes, when they're loud and ominous, it's nice to have the puppies to keep me company. As a child, I was terrified of storms. I would cower near my parents any time there was so much as a clap. If it was night and I was in bed when a storm arrived, I'd immediately scamper to my parents' room and climb into their bed for safety.

As I got older, I began to be less afraid of storms. This is due to a rather harsh lesson in which my dad, tired of my childish fear, made me go out and stand in a storm and see that it wouldn't hurt me. It was slightly traumatizing at the time but it did work.

My younger brother and sister took my place in being afraid of them and when it was a stormy night, they would climb into my bed and we'd cuddle together until either the storm passed or, more likely, morning because they had fallen asleep and I hadn't the heart to wake them.

Nowadays, I love to lie in bed and hear the rumble of a storm. They're cleansing and therapeutic. They come after the tension in the atmosphere has built up to an almost unmanageable level, darkening the skies with a threatening gloom and only, finally, arriving to unleash the storm on the waiting world.

Tonight's storm has brought some much needed rain. The world outside my window is finally shiny with wetness under the streetlamps. The cars are kicking up the water as they drive by. It's been far too long since we had rain like this and it's nice to look out and enjoy it.

Of course, the rain meant the puppies and I couldn't take our evening walk around the neighbourhood. That's become a regular thing. I love it, especially on the cooler nights. We still see some of our neighbours though Larry the Potential Serial Killer hasn't been around much. However, alarmingly, last night, as we walked, he pulled up beside us in his car and said, "Hey Gorgeous! Haven't seen you in a while." I was ok until I realized by the "gorgeous" part, he was talking to me and not to my puppies. For one thing, I don't really feel gorgeous when I'm walking the pups and, secondly, well, it was Larry the Potential Serial Killer. Since when has he called me gorgeous? I was polite, though I made a mental note to make sure the puppies and I continued to avoid him. He wants to 'catch up.' As he got ready to drive up, he shouted out the window, "we have to plan when we can catch up."

Oh dear. By planning a 'catch up' session, this clearly means that Larry The Potential Serial Killer means more than a casual close encounter outside his house. If you've read my blog, you'll know I mean 'close encounter' literally. Larry is, as I've said, an 'up close and personal' talker without that lovely concept of "this is my space, this is your space."

I made an even stronger mental note to avoid Larry and his 'catch up' session. I was quite relieved when he drove off. I seriously hope he didn't think I meant I wanted to get together with him. I have this horrible habit of not realizing when I've innocently said I'd do something with a male friend only to find out he thinks it's a date. Fortunately, I have no intention of getting into that confusion with Larry the Potential Serial Killer. It does, however, alarm me that there might be the rather disconcerting possibility that, uh, Larry likes me. Damn me and my friendly ways.

Ah well, I suppose it should be good for my ego. Besides, it was a brief, if unsettling encounter. The pups and I managed to make it home where Rory, in her tendency to find ways to be slightly naughty even when she's trying to be good, managed to dislodge one of my large plastic flowerpots from its place on my plant rack on my patio. The pot fell to the ground and the dried up wedge of potting soil that had previously been the bed for a rather thriving basil plant bounced out. Rory promptly claimed her prize and grabbed the flowerpot which turned out to be bigger than she was. She scurried off down the garden with it. Seeing no harm, I left her to her own devices. Better a flowerpot than a baby bunny.

Of course, later that night, she decided she wanted to bring her new favourite thing into the house and arrived in the living room, her little mouth firmly gripping the rim of the flowerpot as she triumphantly managed to bring it inside. That's no small feat for a pup when the flowerpot is bigger than she is. I was going to take it away but she seemed so enamoured with it, I decided it was fine. It wasn't making a mess and she was having such a lovely time. She ended up laying on the floor, her head and half her body in the flowerpot for most of the evening. Meanwhile, Sookie just sat there and watched. I imagine, if Sookie were a human, she would spend much of her time, observing her sister, shaking her head and saying, "That Rory!"

This evening, Rory has abandoned her flowerpot. She has, instead, discovered the towel that I use to drape over their crate. She is currently lying on the towel, having a good old chomp while Sookie lays, watching intently, just a few feet away.

Still, given how wet it is outside, playing with a towel is actually a rather smart thing to do, even if that wasn't Rory's intention. It means I can use the towel to try off the girls' feet as they scamper in from being outside, lured by the call of the storm.

I love Autumn.

Happy Thursday!

Autumn Walks

It's different walking the dogs in the autumn. It's a whole different world out there to the world of the summer that was here just a couple of weeks ago.

The streets look different in their covering of leaves. Now that the calendar has officially changed seasons and Summer has decided to take a step back from her steady heat, hot sun and dry earth, the leaves are falling with a vengeance. The pavement is covered with them and as we walk along, the crisp crunch sounds under our feet.

The puppies, of course, are in heaven. They like to stick their nose in a pile of leaves and then lift it back up vigorously and with a tilt. This sends the leaves flying in all directions. Better yet, Rory has taken to divebombing piles of leaves if she has the space and the speed. It's rather cute. She usually manages to shake off the leaves that are clinging to her fur after a few steps down the street.

Sookie tends to be more thoughtful about it. She waits for Rory to explore leave piles first and then when Rory's done her thing, Sookie has a good sniff.

Autumn also means that people are spending a little less time outside in the evenings. It gets dark much earlier now and so we have to walk earlier. There are still some people outside, starting the process of clearing the dried up flowers from summer or sweeping their driveways free from leaves but, mostly, it's a lot quieter than it was during the summer.

We still see a few neighbours but not as many as we did. It's been ages since I saw Larry the Potential Serial Killer. I don't mind too much because he was always a bit odd but it makes our walks a little more solitary when we don't see anyone.

What we are seeing is squirrels. There are squirrels galore on our walk. Our favourite spot to see them is what I have deemed the "Mothership." This is a giant oak tree in someone's garden in which at least a couple of squirrels can be found gathering their acorns for the winter. The ground beneath the oak is messy with squashed and flattened acorns, whole acorns, twigs and leaves. There are even the leavings of squirrels who clearly decided to sample the wears before gathering food for the winter storage.

Naturally, Rory and Sookie go balistic at the sight of the squirrels. They still have yet to figure out that dogs can't climb trees, even when said dog is in pursuit of a squirrel. I'm just glad I have sturdy leashes and harnesses on the hounds because otherwise, I'd have lost them to the Mothership days ago.

The other thing that's different is that the neighbourhood is starting to look decidedly adorned for Halloween. Ghosts, witches and black cats are popping up all over the place. They hang from porches, lampposts, shepherd's crooks. There's a problem with the black cats, I'm finding. While my puppies are adorable and can be quite crafty and sneaky, they're not always the brightest. Thus, they have yet to figure out that the black cats aren't actually alive. The worst are in a garden just down the street. They're just the silhouettes of the cat. They're lifesized. To a human, they're clearly not real. To a puppy well...I imagine since they haven't had that much interaction with cats, they do look real. They clearly look real enough to merit my dogs going into hunting mode. This means that the leash suddenly goes taut, their ears go up and they're poised, ready to make a dash for it. This has now happened several times. They've yet to learn that they're not real.

I don't really mind. It makes the walk fun and I quite like having a pattern. I do like seeing all the decorations popping up. I have yet to wind my own garland of silk autumn leaves around my little lamppost in the front garden and my little scarecrows aren't outside yet. This weekend I hope to add my own festive display to the others in the neighbourhood.

I think I'll avoid black cats though. I can only imagine the constant chaos if the puppies were to see them.

It's bad enough with the squirrels.

Happy Thursday!

Near-Autumn Walks and Such

Today was a busy day at work. These are good days because not only do I feel like I'm actually doing something and serving a genuine, actual purpose but it also makes the day go by very quickly. It's nice to look at the clock and realize that a couple of hours have passed instead of, as on a normal day, glancing up very frequently and wondering why barely any time has passed.

In addition to it being a nice busy day, it's also another, cool autumn-day. Last night, I slept with my bedroom windows open and I woke up chilly under my light bedcovers. If I knew the coolness was going to stick around, I'd add another blanket to my bed but I know it's supposed to warm up again. Besides, I have two dachshunds on my bed who provide me with a little extra warmth so I really don't need it.

Of course, I'm aware that I'm actually the one providing the warmth to the dogs. I'm not that delusional that I think they're trying to do me a favour. This can be evidenced by Rory burrowing under the covers after having a little groan.

Rory groans a lot when she's sleeping. If you so much as touch her while she's in 'sleep-mode', she makes this rather adorable groaning sound. If she stirs in the night, she groans. If she's annoyed about being disturbed, she groans. You get the idea.

Thus, last night, I half-heard her groan in my own sleepy state and then I felt her try to find a way under the covers. She couldn't seem to find a way in and she started to get upset so I ended up lifting the covers up so she could warm up. Sookie, meanwhile, rather cutely just snuggles up with me so that we woke up almost nose to nose. There is a reason why I call her my 'teddy bear dog.'

Since it's cooled down, it means the weather is highly amenable to taking walks with the dogs. They've started actually responding to the word "Walk" and so when I say it, they sit by the door, waiting. They didn't used to do this. They used to hide. That was when I used to put on their adorable but rather fiddly and complex little pink harnesses. Now they're bigger, those harnesses don't fit and they have much more comfortable ones that require a mere slipping over the head and stepping into it in order to get it on.

We try to take our walk before Larry-the-Potential-Serial-Killer comes home from work. It's riskier to walk by his house on nice evenings. It's also harder to get away if he does entrap us in conversation because I can't necessarily use the, "I need to take the pups home because they need to drink water," excuse that I use when it gets hot.

Still, we haven't seen Larry in a while. Well, we haven't seen him to talk to him. We did walk and see him in his garden but, fortunately, he was engrossed in picking tomatoes and he didn't see us. It probably helps that I walk very quickly and I also try to remain very, very quiet so he doesn't hear us. I'd like to think the puppies know we're avoiding him because they certainly seem to walk faster.

For the most part, walking with the pups in the evenings is a pleasure. It's beautiful weather, I'm getting exercise and we can explore the neighbourhood. The only part that isn't so much of a pleasure is the squirrels. I can always tell when Rory and Sookie see a squirrel because suddenly, my arm feels as though it's trying to be disconnected from its socket and the leash goes very, very taut. I'm trying to teach the girls that they cannot, in fact, climb trees and follow the squirrel but they still attempt to do so until I remind them who's the boss by giving them a stern tug on their leash.

Squirrels are their new bunnies. We have quite a few around our back yard. Having discovered the source of the hickory nuts- which is a tree in Possibly-Joe's front yard- I'm no longer alarmed at finding hickory nuts around my house. The girls like to try to chew them but the nuts are so tough, they can't break the shell. The squirrels, however, have taken to sitting on the fence or up in the trees and chewing on the nuts. You can hear the "tchhk tchkk tchukk" of their teeth as they chomp the encasement for the nuts. It falls to the ground and leaves quite a mess, rather like a human who throws their trash all over the place and doesn't pick it up.The puppies have learned to recognize the "tchhk tchkk tchukk" sound. The minute they hear it, they go into obsessive-crack-junkie-mode and they attempt to locate the source. The squirrels are far craftier than the rabbits though. They can climb trees for one thing and they're also much quicker. The puppies have been thwarted on more than one occasion as they attempt to catch a squirrel for playtime.

There's no doubt about it, with the chill of the night air and the increased number of nut-harvesting squirrels, autumn is almost upon us. Give it a couple of weeks and we'll start calling the hot days "Indian Summer". For now, as summer is losing her hold and giving way to autumn, we're in that pleasant transition between seasons where you never know what each day will bring. While I'd rather it stayed cooler, there's something about not knowing which show itself tomorrow that's rather nice.

It's just nice to be surprised sometimes.

Happy Friday and have a great weekend!

Neighbourhood Dangers!

It has come to my attention that walking in my neighbourhood with puppies is actually relatively dangerous.

The most usual common danger is usually minor. It's just more inconvenient than anything else. It's usually just Larry-the-Potential-Serial-Killer laying in wait for the girls and I as we round out our walk by trying to dash past his house with some trepidation. He lives on a corner, you see. I've actually tried to avoid his corner by taking a different route home but my little puppies can be rather stubborn. They don't like to go in a different direction to what we're used to. Either that or the smell of squirrel isn't strong enough in the new way for them to feel like going that direction.

So, usually, I resort to walking by Larry-the-Potential-Serial-Killer's house at a bit more of a rapid pace than usual in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, we won't be spotted.

Nine times out of ten, we're spotted. It looks like Larry isn't home. His garage door is closed. His car is not in the drive. His back door is closed. I heave a sigh of relief and start to tell the girls that 'yay! we made it!' in a quiet whisper and..then…

Larry-the-Potential-Serial-Killer appears. Out of nowhere.

Well, actually it's from his back yard but that doesn't sound so dramatic. Either way, unless we want to look horribly rude which, as an Englishwoman, is not something I like to do, I usually have to at least say a polite hello.

Unfortunately, it's never just a polite hello. I try to keep walking and he's there in his usual up-too-close-and-personal manner, wanting to either talk about the Dog Whisperer's beasts or ask me about a plant or something. Silly me made the mistake of joining in a discussion with him about his yard which revealed I had Gardening Knowledge. I usually get my Gardening Knowledge from my mother. But I do have some.

Larry, it seems, does not have Gardening Knowledge. Or, if he does, he pretends he doesn't just so he has an excuse to talk. Last time, it was his shrub rose-bush. He didn't know it was rose. Or he pretended not to, anyway. Personally, the presence of roses and thorns should have tipped him off but what do I know? Maybe in Larry's world, roses aren't the same as the roses I know. I didn’t ask. It would have taken too long to get an answer. Larry is rather detailed, you see.

So, normally, we try to skip talking to Larry since it usually results in the puppies getting bored and restless. Actually, it results in all of us getting bored and restless but, not being a cute puppy, I can't exactly lie down on the ground and pretend to sleep like they do.

Yet, Larry isn't the only danger in the neighbourhood. Now it seems we have to look out for mad male dachshunds.

Last night, you see, we decided to leave The Odious One in peace for a while and go for a walk. Well, I should say, I decided to give him some peace. Rory and Sookie are attempting to be good but they still can't resist giving Odie an enthusiastic greeting every time he moves. Giving that Odie won't sit still and enjoys either following me everywhere or trying to find an escape route, he's making himself a moving target.

So, I decided he'd be fine if I left him home alone and took the girls for a walk.

Well, he was fine. The girls, however…well they had a scare.

It began after I decided to extend our normal walk to the longer version which is three blocks instead of one. The girls like walking now, ever in search of bunnies and squirrels, so they don’t mind the extra distance.

We met a new neighbour last night. He was sitting on his front lawn, just relaxing. He was very nice and very excited to see my pups. It turns out, he, too, has black-and-tan, sibling dachshunds, just like me. He wanted his dog to meet my girls so he brought out Odin, the male sibling. Odin has quite a story. He escaped not too long ago and went missing. The owner put up fliers all over the area and advertised in the newspaper. Odin was missing for three weeks and then, one day, his owners got a call that his dog had been picked up by a repairman in a van and rescued. Apparently, Odin had two rows of puncture wounds in his side and a deep gash on his throat. The repairman found out that Odin was missing and he was able to reunite owner and dog.

Odin's owner took him to the vet for the puncture wounds and the vet told him that he'd actually been picked up by a bird of prey. The punctures were talon marks and the gash was from the beak. Obviously, Odin had been too long and bulky to go far but the attempt had been made.

I was fascinated. Who doesn't like a good "Dog gets Lost and Makes it Back Home" story? It's even better when a ferocious and ambitious villain such as a hawk is involved.

The trouble is that Odin didn't appear to be a very nice dog. Rather than greet my girls nicely, he immediately tried to bite them. His owner scooped him up but Odin did NOT want to be held. He wanted to snarl. His owner finally put him in the house. I was glad. I was happy that Odin had found his way home but rather glad Odin was not my dog.

We went on our way. All of a sudden, after we were halfway down the street, I hear the shout of "Odin, No!"

Odin was running towards us, having escaped again. At first, he seemed to be friendly, as if curious about my pups. Then he started to growl and before I knew it, he was lunging for Rory. His owner, not far behind, was yelling. I stupidly reacted from instinct and grabbed his collar. I know that's a no-no for breaking up a dog fight but, fortunately, I didn't get bitten. I did, however, managed to hold off Odin from Rory and Sookie who were now whimpering and terrified.

His owner caught up and was clearly mortified and upset. He was extremely apologetic. He finally took Odin and left us in peace. I managed to pick up each puppy and cuddle them which seemed to settle them down. I think, in the end, I was more alarmed than they were.

We managed to finish our walk and even avoid Larry which was definitely welcome after such a traumatic interlude. Rory and Sookie seemed recovered by the time we got home. I, however, find that I'm more wary of male dachshunds than ever. It doesn't help that Possibly-Joe the plumber's girlfriend also has an older male dachshund and he sometimes brings him to our shared fence to meet the girls. This dog inevitably snarls at my pups and snaps at them. Combined with the rather scary violence of Sausage, I think I'll definitely stick with female dogs. My puppies are very sweet and have great temperaments which is why I don't understand why the two other dachshunds they've met have been so rude to them.

All in all, I think for now, we'll be a little more careful around the neighbourhood, just in case Odin the Mad Male Dachshund gets out again. Perhaps I'll take my little squirt bottle with me next time, just in case.

Hmm….I wonder if that would work on Larry.

Happy Wednesday!

In the Doghouse...

Today was a better day. I won't say it was a running down the hills, flinging my arms out and caterwauling a happy-joy-joy song but it wasn't bad. It's the last 'nice' day before the humidity builds back up so I made sure to go out with the puppies at lunch.

The puppies, at least, have mellowed out a little. They're still frantically hunting rabbits but they're not quite as obsessed as before. They have started to listen a little more when I call them although last night, I'm ashamed to admit I had a spat with the puppies and completely lost my temper. Sookie wouldn't come near me. I felt horrible.

You should know, I have a terrible guilt complex. It doesn't take much to make me feel guilty and apologize. When it comes to the point where I've upset my little puppy to the point where she won't look at me and, when she does, it's with trepidation and anxiety, I feel horrible.

I have no real defense. All I can say is it was 11:30 p.m. and I was trying to go to bed. I let the puppies out to go do their business and then they vanished. My back garden is very dark at night. I have a light on my patio that doesn't reach to the vegetable garden/brush patch where the puppies like to play. I put a couple of solar lights back there but they don't really shine that brightly. So when two black puppies go back there in the dark, it's not easy to see them.

I called and called and they didn't come. I finally got my flashlight and went looking for them. They still wouldn't come. So, by this point, I was tired and all I wanted to do was sleep. I called them one more time and still they ignored me.

I finally got angry and I yelled. I was furious. Rory came in but I'd apparently traumatized Sookie. I had to carry her in.

I felt awful. She was upset. I was upset. I was also feeling guilty.

Thankfully, she seemed to have forgiven me this morning. I was very relived. I still feel guilty. I shouldn't have shouted but it's such a knee-jerk reaction when you're annoyed to the point of frustration. You just…snap. Unfortunately, in my case, dogs don't necessarily understand it when I apologize repeatedly.

Today, we've made up. She came to me as usual for her post-crate cuddle at lunch and it was a longer one than usual. She sought me out in the garden and we played together. I think I'm forgiven. I learned my lesson though. Just like any 'parent', I have to be careful to make sure my bad day isn’t reflected upon my charges. It's not their fault I was tired and crotchety.

And, as I said, today they seem less bunny-centric. Also, Potential-Serial-Killer-Larry (PSKL) promised me last night that if he had his way, he'd be "shootin' those rabbits." Yes, PSKL has a gun and he wants to use it.

He apparently is a good shot. He'd like to eat those bunnies. Now, when I was younger, the thought of eating Thumper was horrifying to me. I mean, it was a cute bunny! Now, after a couple of years of becoming an obsessive foodie, I would try rabbit. I hear it's tasty when cooked right.

It doesn't mean I want to eat the rabbit in my garden though. In this case, I'd rather not know the rabbits on my plate, if you know what I mean.

Also, I'd imagine shooting a rabbit isn't going to do much to preserve the, uh, meat. A bullet would do some damage, I'd think.

Still, Larry has promised that if it becomes open season, he's the first one in line with his gun. I didn't ask what type of gun he was talking about. I thought it best not get into the topic of potential murder weapons when I already call him Potential Serial Killer Larry.

Larry also told me he was going to send an anonymous letter to the Dog Whisperer because he was sick of the barking. I told him that it might be a better idea simply to try to talk to them about it first. I recommended he try to talk to Wife of Dog Whisperer though since she seems to be the boss of the family. Also, she doesn't stare at you like you're insane every time you talk to her like her husband does.

I felt a little guilty about that at first. I mean, I am enabling Larry as the terminology goes. I'm encouraging to help me do my dirty work. However, I thought about it logically. First, he was going to file a police report. Then he was going to send an anonymous letter. I managed to talk him into doing a sensible, non-cowardly thing….talking to them. Granted, no one wants to be told that their dogs are horrible annoying beasts but it's better coming from someone like Larry who may be slightly sinister but isn't an unfriendly man. Besides, I was very clear to make sure I told him that if it was bothering him that much that he should let them know. I distanced myself. The Dog Whisperer and Wife of Dog Whisperer knows it bothers me which is why they try to control the beasts when I'm outside. They don’t do a great job but they try.

In a way, I did the neighbours a favour. Which is better, a patrol car pulling up to check out the situation or a potential serial killer politely telling them to keep their dogs quieter?

Well, they don't have to know that he has potential to be a serial killer, do they? I'll keep that to myself.

Either way, I've been trying to keep my pups inside a little more when the rampaging barking starts. Given their crack-addition to rabbits, it hasn't been working so well lately but we're working on it.

I just have to remember that it's not fair to yell at the puppies when I'm annoyed about life in general.

Otherwise there's guilt and big brown eyes.

Which leads to more guilt.

It's a vicious cycle.

Neighbourly Encounters...

It's been so hot here lately. We haven't had any rain in about two weeks and the ground is dry, the plants are drooping and everything just looks tired.

It's hard to find the energy to go out and do anything. Even if you start out with the best of intentions, you start to get busy outside but are driven in by the humidity and the bugs. Even with my magical Off mosquito fan, the tiny, horrible little fruit-fly like black bugs still converge on you when you go outside. On a coworker's advice, I've taken to using a dryer sheet hooked around my belt loop for additional defense. This does work, I'll have you know. Unfortunately, it doesn't help the puppies who are swarmed each time they sit on the grass. I thought about tying a dryer sheet around their collar but they'd only tear it off one another.

I suppose the good part about it being so dry is that the grass isn't growing which means there isn't much mowing to be done though I do have strange patches of very fertile grass that is always an inch or so taller than the rest of the grass. The neighbourhood seems strange without the hum of lawnmower engines each night but we're in the hottest part of the summer and no one really wants to mow.

Well, I should take that back. Potential-Serial-Killer-Larry wants to mow. Since there was a cool-ish breeze blowing this evening, I decided to take the puppies for a walk. They were getting a bit crotchety with everything. They snipe at one another, give me the cold shoulder and then get rather cross with the holes they're trying to big. This, I have to say, is a sight to see. They love to dig holes in the grass but there's only so deep they can dig even with their quite-large paws. Rory, especially, still gets so angry with the ground that she stomps, yips, and even does this peculiar hand-stand like thing trying to just get a little deeper. When Sookie starts to join in the 'yelling at the hole', I usually try to bring them inside to calm down.

I decided tonight that maybe they needed to burn off some of their sniping energy with a walk. We managed to get all the way around the block without anyone stopping us to pet the puppies. We also didn't see any of the r-a-b-b-i-t-s. I have to spell it these days because the pups have figured out what one of those is as well as b-u-n-n-i-e-s. I know they can't read but they're hypersensitive to the stupid creatures.

Of course, then we ran into Larry. He was mowing. It was 94 degrees out, supposedly up to a 100 degrees with the heat index. He was sweaty and not particularly appealing. I'd hoped to walk on by but, alas, he stopped the mower, just to say hi to me and the "fellas". He then proceeded to immediately launch into a tirade about the Dog Whisperer's beasts.

Don't get me wrong. It's extremely gratifying to hear someone else complain rather than just me. He's just trying to enlist me in his scheme to have the police stop by. While part of me really, really would love to see that happen, I've also got to live next to the Dog Whisperer and Wife of Dog Whisperer. Also, I like Wife of Dog Whisperer. I do not want to cause any bad blood because it would be awkward.

It's a bit of a dilemma. While I would love to see someone get those dogs under control, I also don't want to be involved. I know. It sounds passive aggressive but it's just one of those things I'm trying to learn to deal with while living in a neighbourhood. It's a fine line. While I do visualize doing mean things to those dogs such as squirting them in the face with my hose, I don't do it because I'm really not that cruel. Also, Wife of Dog Whisperer seems to try to control the dogs.

Also, a part of me is worried that because Sookie and Rory's second favourite game is Getting the Yappy Beasts Excited and then snickering behind the tool shed, there might be some blame placed on me. (If you're wondering, their first favourite game is Capture the a)Bunny, b) Cicada bugs, c) birds and d) butterflies.

So, I'm not sure what to do. Even if I tell Larry the potential serial killer that he's welcome to do what he likes but I can't be involved, I'm afraid the Dog Whisperer will blame me, anyway. I know they know that I'm annoyed. I've contemplated putting up some privacy netting to block the puppies from their dogs view but then the yappy beasts will only bark at me instead because it won't be tall enough to hide me.

So, I guess we're at an impasse. I told Larry that I'd like to give it a couple more weeks but, if the dogs really do bother him that much, to go ahead and do what he needs to do. I think the sad part is that I'm being somewhat desensitized to the barking. It still annoys me but I expect it. There's something wrong with that, I know but it's just an adjustment I've made.

I ended up getting stuck talking to Larry for a while. The puppies didn't seem to mind. They lay down and enjoyed the breeze. I don't mind but he's got that up-close-and-personal approach to chatting that tends to be a little invasive.

Still, he didn't show me his human hair nor did we find any bones outside his house so I'd consider that a good walk. He did leave me with some food for thought though. What do you all think? Shall I consent to his taking action or shall I let things lie? Suggestions and comments would be most welcome.

I'd ask the puppies advice since they, too, are bothered by the yapping but I'm afraid they'd just stare at me blankly and then take a lap up and down the fence, just long enough to incite a barking fest from the Dog Whisperer's beasts. Then they'll collapse in a pile far enough away that the beasts can still see them but the puppies can't be blamed for any ill activity, panting in the summer heat.

Still, at least we got our walk tonight. Running into Larry is always interesting, if a little uncomfortable.

I just wish he'd stop calling my girls "Fellas". Oh well, you have to pick your battles, I suppose.

Happy Wednesday.

A Hot, Sweaty Evening...

It's starting to get muggy again here. I woke up to a thunderstorm with heavy rain. This posed a problem because the puppies do not like to go out in the rain but, when they first wake up, they really need to go out, even when it's raining. When I opened the door so we could go out, the rain was pouring so hard, it was bounching out of the rapidly-filling puddles. The puppies looked at me like I was mental and had a very easily-decipherable, "You want us to go out? In that? Who are YOU kidding?" look on their faces.

They sat under the shelter with me for a while. I can't say I'd blame them. Since I wasn't willing to go out and get soaked, it did seem a little unfair that I wanted them to do so. In the end, I went inside and fetched my cute pink and white striped umbrella and escorted them outside so they didn't get too wet. Yes, I know...my puppies are spoiled.

As the day progressed, the rain tapered off, leaving behind a thick, sultry atmosphere. By the time I got home from work, the mosquitoes were buzzing and the air was humid and damp. It wasn't the type of evening you want to be outside but, stupid me, I decided that it would be a good night to garden/landscape.

As I said last night, I had chopped down the ugly pampas grass that was taking over my front lawn. As I chopped it back, I'd noticed that it had originally been planted in a rather nice flowerbed that had once been mulched with a pretty red wood. The soil beneath the pampas grass was fine and fertile. Thus I decided that I didn't want the pampas grass at all and I wanted to plant flowers that had colour instead of having a ten-foot tall bunch of grass that would cut you if you happened to slide your fingers along one of its' blades. Trust me, pampas grass is sharp. It's worse than getting a paper cut; my granny has some in her garden and I remember very well how my brother and I would dare each other to slide a blade between our finger and see who would bleed first.

And yes, I know, with that statement, I'm revealing the fact that I've been a little dark in my nature, even from my youth.

Anyhow, tonight, I decided to dig up the pampas grass and begin my landscaping efforts. I stopped at Lowes and bought some perennials and a couple of butterfly bushes which meant that I had no excuse for procrastination. I also bought some insect-killer. The nice lady who used to own my house had splurged and had these neato tube things inserted into the foundation. They're designed for Terminex to come out and spray their bug-killer into the spikes so that the house stays bug-free. However, I think Terminex charges way too much so I stopped and bought my own bug-killer. I spent a large part of the evening spraying my spray into the little spiky things. I hope it gets rid of the bugs. Unfortunatly, it doesn't get rid of people who bug you (ha ha, see what I did there?). Case in point, Larry the Potential Serial Killer was just drivin' by on his way to the Aldi supermarket when he happened to see me 'out and about' so, naturally, he had to stop and say hi. He also stopped to chat. He'd noticed I'd chopped the pampas grass last night and wanted to tell me he'd noticed. This would have been sweet if he wasn't quite so creepy. Also, even though I was clearly hot, sweaty and grumpy, he just wanted to tell me all about his butterfly bushes because he'd noticed the ones I purchased at Lowes, just waiting to be planted. He finally left. I continuted to spray bug spray in the spike things in my house's foundation.

By the time I was done spraying the spiky things, I was hot and sweaty. Nevertheless, I decided I still wanted to try to get rid of the pampas grass.

Silly me.

My pampas grass bed consisted of what turned out to be four individual clumps. Clump #1 came out with little argument. I grew cocky.

Then I tried to dig up clumb #2. My cockiness vanished. The blasted thing would NOT come up for anything. I used my fork, I used my trowel, I used my garden shears and still, the roots remained firmly embedded in the earth. After much sweat, growning, pulling and heaving, the bloody things came up, arguing all the way.

Clump #3 was worse. I dug, I stabbed, I unearthed and I pulled. The stupid grass wouldn't budge. In the humidty, I was sweaty. I actually had beads of sweat on my forehead before I was done. Given that I sweat only under extreme circumstances, this was unusual. I felt crotchety. I had a film of dirt on my skin that felt disgusting. Yet, even with all this, I felt like I had to finish. I had to win over the pampas grass.

Clump #3 was hard work. There's no doubt about it. I finally made progress. Pampas grass tends to grow with its' base forming a circle. I managed to dislodge a third of clump #3's circle. Then I got stuck. I dug. I pulled. I used every tool I had...nothing. I grew angry and frustrated. I wanted to rip the pampas grass up by its' roots and show it no mercy.

Naturally, this was the time for me to meet a new neighbour.

Yes. I met Mike. Mike lives next door to Larry. Mike had seen that I'd cut down my pampas grass yesterday but he didn't want to knock on my door to tell me how he felt about that. Tonight, as he walked by on his evening soujourn, Mike saw me outside. He proceeded to tell me how "people would pay a lot of money for the grass" I was ripping up. I realized he was hinting. I told him that the grass was all his. Truth be told, I was quite excited at his obvious desire to take my discarded pampas grass. This meant I didn't have to find anywhere to store the grass I'd dug up.

Unfortunately, Mike was a chatter. Even though I was covered in sweat, bright red from the heat and covered with dirt, he didn't seen phased. He just kept on chatting. He was delighted I would give him my grass and so, finally, he excused himself so that he could get his van to pick up the discarded pampas grass that I had intended to throw away.

I kept on digging. I made no progress. I got sweatier. I took a water break. Clump #3 was just evil. I kept attempting to get to the roots but no luck. I grew crankier and more irritable. Then Mike returned.

Mike did not care that I was sweaty, in a bad mood and clearly not very chatty. He just kept on talking. While I welcome the chance to meet new neighbours, there are some times when you just want to be a hermit so that you don't have to talk to anyone. This was one of those nights for me. For Mike, it was a free-for-all of chat.

The thing is, he seemed nice. Yet when he came, I was sweaty, hot and irritable. I wanted to get rid of the pampas grass but I also wanted to go inside to the puppies who were yipping with indignation that I'd dared leave them alone.

He finally took his grass, chatted some more and left. No matter how hard I tried, I never did manage to dig up clump #3. I got a little of it dug up but, alas, it looks like I couldn't competely lose it. Also, I broke my fork. This does not make me happy as the fork was a house-warming gift from my sister. I'm wondering if superglue will work though I suspect not.

Still, even with my lack of progress on clump #3, it's an improvement. However, I can honestly say that I'll be surprised if it's calmly accepted by the neighbours. As I was digging tonight, I recieved two "why are you doing that?!!! responses and two, "wow, you're brave" responses.

I honestly have to say, I don't really care about the neighbours. They're nice but I've started to realize, finally, that this is MY house. I can do what I like. That's the whole point of being a homeowner...right?

Of course, Mike (he of the pampas grass adoptee program) did introduce me to a new concept: That of the RENTERS.

Apparently, our neighbourhood is divided by the BUYERS and the RENTERS. The BUYERS are people like me, people who bought their house and owned it. The RENTERS are the lowlifes who just...rent their home.

To me, there's little distinction. To Mike, there was a lot. He's been around our 'hood longer than many people. Thus, he can tell the difference between a RENTER and a BUYER. Apparently, RENTERS don't care about the property and constantly need to mow their lawn. My non-Dog Whisperer neighbours are RENTERS. I did not know this. Mike took one look at their lawn and declared them so and who am I to argue?

I don't care, honestly. I do care that Mike scavenged my discarded pampas grass in order to plant it along his fence which, apparently, borders that of The Dog Whisperer. Mike gets tired of the constant yapping. He hates it. He's hoping that the pampas grass will privide some privacy. I wish him luck with that although, based on my Dog Whisperer experiences, I'm not going to hold my breath.

Mike, however, seemed rather annoyed with the Dog Whisperer and his yappy beasts because apparently, he can't go out into his yard without being barked at either. I'm hoping he gets REALLY annoyed and calls the police. As awful as it sounds, I think that would be good for the Dog Whisperer and Wife of Dog Whisperer. They've stopped hearing their dogs' desperate cries for attention and begun, instead, to stay indoors and get wrapped up in something else.

Nevetheless, I now know another neighbour. I do wish he'd have come by when I was decent and not hot and stinky. Still...he got his pampas grass and, in doing so, I managed to minimalize my refuse by donating my plants. I wish Mike luck with his endeavors.

In the meantime, I think, for now, I'm done yanking up pampas grass. At least until it grows back.

I'm really hoping it doesn't.

Happy Thursday!

Sounds of Suburbia...

Oh, the sounds of a surburban neighbourhood. Birds chirping, music pumping, squirrels squawking and...

...oh yes, barking. I'm currently listening to an orchestra of dog yips. Well, orchestra is a wee bit poetic. Not unless it's one of those orchestras where someone plays the saw, someone else plays a pickle-tub drum and someone else is attempting to play the trumpet without knowing how. Needless to say, it's a horrible sound.

Yes, the Dog Whisperer's beasts are at it again. Sadly, this week, we don't even get a break at lunchtime. Apparently, because Son of Dog Whisperer is done with school, it seems that his parents are rotating schedules to stay home. This means the beasts aren't crated and are free to run out at lunch and yip at my puppies who HAVE been crated and merely want to do their business and have a short time outside before I have to re-crate them.

Still, there are other sounds I can hear. The squirrels, for example. They do, in fact, squawk. Well, actually, it's more like they click. It's a peculiar thing but they go up in the tree and click at us, sounding like they're trying to spit. It's a weird sound but it happens rather a lot. Also, the squirrels seem to not be as agile as you'd expect squirrels to be. We've now witnessed several of them trying to play trapeze in the trees but wildly swinging instead, missing the branches and falling several levels below before finally getting a grip. It makes a weird rustling sound, sort of like you'd see on Lost when the smoke monster was approaching. If you didn't watch Lost, you're probably not sure what that sounds like. It sounds like trees rustling.

Naturally, there's the sound of lawnmowers too. I mowed tonight too. It was a bad night to pick. It's humid again and I think another storm is on the way. This is the kind of humidity that leaves you sweating and lightheaded after you've only mowed a little. Still, the lawn is mowed for now. It grows so quickly, I'm constantly amazed. The grass and the weeds grow quickly, my plants don't. I'm not sure how that works.

The puppies are ok with the lawnmower. They're still terrified of the hoover but they don't mind the mower. They like to lie down in my path and then scurry away as I approach. They've taken to digging holes in the lawn now. I think it's because they can smell bunny. The rabbit who used to live under my toolshed rather likes to taunt my puppies. He lays down right where Rory's favourite hole-digging spot is and waits until the puppies come out. Then he lets them get a couple of feet away and then he runs. He's fast and I don't think the puppies will ever catch him. I'm also amazed at how he seems to get through a solid fence with no holes. That baffles me at my parents' house too. They have rabbits and they're always running through the fence but I can never figure out how they get out.

Nevertheless, until the bunny starts eating my swiss chard or squash, he's welcome. He's an ok sort of pest. I'm constantly thankful that we only have furry squirrels and bunnies to worry about. My good friend, Ms. P, lives in Texas and has a dog named Burt who is part dachshund, part chihuahua. He's a lovely little thing. He got bit by a copperhead snake two days ago. He's going to be ok thanks to a trip to the animal ER but I can only imagine how scary it was. We have some rather large worms in our backyard but, thankfully, no snakes. I'm hoping Burt makes a speedy recovery.

Ah, there, finally, the dogs next door have stopped yipping. And yes, they WERE barking the entire time I've been blogging. Welcome to our life. I've given up on the privacy fence. Given that the dogs bark at any noise or movement, I have a feeling it wouldn't do very much anyway. On the plus side, Larry-the-potential-serial-killer has volunteered to raise a secret neighbourhood campaign to get the police involved. I'm not sure I'm ready for such drastic action but it's nice to have an ally. The thing is, I like the Dog Whisperer's wife and Son of Dog Whisperer is a little odd but he seems like a nice kid. I want to like the Dog Whisperer himself but he's sort of, uh, well...hard to like. I think it's his blatant ignoring of his yippy dogs combined with his desperate attempts to lure my dogs to the fence. Sookie barks at him. She doesn't bark at anyone else like that- not Possibly-Joe, not Larry-the-potential-serial-killer or Wife of Dog Whisperer. It's just him. Then again, sometimes I'd like to bark at him so I can't blame her.

If you can't beat them, join them...right?

Happy Friday!

Elephants,TV's and Terminator Eyes

Today was quite a busy day in many respects. It started out much the same as usual except instead of having to drive to the office, I pretty much rolled out of bed, went to my computer at home and logged on. I actually got permission to work from home for a few hours because I had splurged and ordered a new television from Amazon.com and I had to be home to accept delivery.

The nice thing about working at home is that...you're at home. The bad part is...you're at home and the last thing you really want to do is work. Still, I actually did work while the puppies were good little girls and amused themselves for the morning. Of course, given that they're used to sleeping all morning in their crate and they didn't even nap before I left for work around nooon, they were pretty tired when I left.

I actually had a nice productive day at work too which made the afternoon go pretty quickly. After work, I had an eye appointment because my eyes have been very red for the past three weeks and will not allow me to put contacts in them. I've been looking like the Terminator whenever I try. It turns out that I might be allergic to my contact solution which I didn't consider. Silly me switched brands because I didn't think it would make a difference but when I think back, that's pretty much when I started my zombie-eye phase.

This evening, I managed to get a prescription filled, mow the lawn and hook up my TV. I have to admit, I'm quite pleased I managed to do it by myself. The problem with being a single woman is that sometimes, you have to be resourceful. Take for example, the fact that I bought a TV stand from a furniture store. I didn't want to pay delivery because it was literally right around the block from my house. However, the stand- a sofa table, really- was far too heavy to be carried and far to large to fit in the boot of my car.

I told the saleslady that I'd find a way to pick it up. I knew a couple of people at work who would be nice enough to help and, sure enough, a friend with a convertible was very kind and willingly volunteered her car's back seat. The TV stand fit very well and we got it to my house with no trouble at all.

The thing is, even though I usually find a solution, there are times when I do feel a little helpless being alone. There are things which really require two people- like assembling a TV stand and mounting the TV on it. Except I've grown used to doing things by myself and I managed not only to get the TV on the stand but also to relocate my old television. This, I'd like to say, was no mean feat. It's a 27 inch regular old TV and compared to my new flat screen weighs roughly the same as a small elephant.

(Speaking of elephants, I had a HORRIBLE dream last night- I was at a farm and the farmer-lady told me I could see all the animals. For some reason, I really wanted to see the little piglets so I went to check them out. Except the piglets had tusks and weird sewn-up-mouths and looked a bit elephantine. Well, turns out that their mother WAS an elephant and I was attack by an elephant. It was terrifying. I managed to get the elephant to stop attacking me by using some dog-training techniques. Then, just as I thought it was ok, I found out Sookie had been hit by a car. Like I said, horrid dream. Aren't you glad I shared my weird subconscious with you?)

Anyways, I did manage to move my elephant-TV as well as the old stand that it's been sitting on. I also managed to get the TV working which turned out to be quite easy. The only sad thing is that it's an HD TV and I don't yet have HD television coming in through my cable box. According to Direct TV, I have to pay $200 to get a new receiver. We'll see about that. I'm going to try the old, "my contract is up soon and I'm thinking of switching to Time Warner Cable- can you counteroffer" technique. It's actually not that much of a fib. I could probably get a pretty good package deal from them.

So, now I have an nice new TV on a nice new TV stand and my living room looks a little like a herd of elephants went through.

(I must be on an elephant kick. I wonder if there's any meaning to that?)

Having a messy living room is not good because I spent forever cleaning in anticipation of Saz's visit this weekend and now I have to do it all over or, at least, vacuum.

Still, it's been a productive evening even if Sookie and Rory didn't get their walk. I don't think they minded. Since I had to drive by Larry's house on the way to the pharmacy and he was out in his front yard, chatting. I noticed that Larry was using the up-close-and-personal chat method that he uses with me and I felt slightly better. Also, I noticed that the neighbour was clearly trying to back away. Again, that made me feel better.

All in all, this has been a weird day and I know the puppies are confused at their change in routine. They've been following me around all night and are currently clamouring to get on my lap. I better go attend to them. I think sitting down with a cuddly pup or two might be just the way to unwind after a day like this.

Thanks, as always, for reading. Happy Thursday!