Cathy in the Wright

Reprieve...

3-legger didn't cough all night, and this morning she seems her usual, annoying self. She whined until she could go outside; she whined until she got a treat; and she whined until she woke up The Governor. All systems normal.

The Governor and I made the executive decision to put off the trip to the vet until we see further signs of discomfort.

Whew.

Tuesday

I knew I should have blogged earlier when the day could still be classified as "Good."

We had a fun morning - The Senator lost his first tooth! He nearly swallowed it along with a spoonful of cereal, but managed to spit it out and save it for the Tooth Fairy. He's very concerned about cashing in that tooth. A poll of parents on the sidelines at t-ball has the going rate for baby teeth at about $1 a tooth. A whole dollar? There's not even any silver or gold fillings in it. I'm thinking of telling The Senator that the Tooth Fairy leaves 50 cents under the child's pillow, and 50 cents under the Mom's pillow to compensate her for all the time spent supervising brushings and taking the child to the dentist.

We headed off to the nursing home after our exciting breakfast and had a rather uneventful visit. No stretchers, no deaths, no residents soaking in soiled adult diapers...heck...I guess I could call it a good visit.

Lunch was almost as exciting as breakfast, in that there was plenty of shouting and yelling, but only because The Governor took it upon himself to bite The Senator. I asked The Gov why he did it.

'Cuz.

Because why?

I don't know.

Two years and three months old...going on a very sulky fifteen.

And now the really bad news. Old 3-legger is not doing so well tonight. I've noticed a couple of small spots in the mudroom which looked like blood and mucus. The VP just came downstairs and told me she's coughing. The veternarian said the next stage of cancer symptoms would be difficulty breathing and coughing. Unfortunately, we've decided there would be no further stage of treatment. There's nothing that could prolong her life with any sort of quality when she's hit this point.

Tomorrow will be an early morning visit to the vet to confirm our fears, and if confirmed, then we have to say goodbye. I've been expecting this since January. I thought I'd be a bit more prepared for this moment...but it's breaking my heart. I can't even eulogize about her - she was a pain in the ass from the moment we got her. She chewed through leashes, dug under way out of the backyard, ran straight through the electric fence, chased deer, barked incessantly, smelled bad, shed constantly, and ate like a pig. And I can't picture The Outpost without her.

Aside from the potential visit to the death camp...tomorrow is going to be busy with t-ball and visiting friends. I'll post when I can about Breezy.

Once Upon A Time...

I had a lot to write about, but this evening, our neighbor issued an invitation to come up and hang out in their pool. So The Senator grabbed his swimsuit and a towel, and I grabbed a bottle of champagne and off we went. Damn the mosquitoes; full speed ahead.

Now I can't remember much of what I wanted to write about, except I had a mild rant forming over The Senator's Ranger Rick magazine that just arrived. In the middle of the publication was a mini, three page comic book featuring Ranger Rick (the uber-environmental racoon) and his woodland buddies being terrorized by evil off-road vehicles.

An off-road vehicle, or ORV, tears through Deep Green Wood like a tornado, shaking everthing and everyone in its path.

It rattles their homes...[picture of chipmunk holding onto breaking dishes]

...fills the air with stinky exhaust...[fox in straw bonnet planting a garden chokes on exhaust]

...and scares animals half to death.[rabbit huddled under patchwork quilt quaking with fear]

The woodland creatures gather for a rally which is subsequently disrupted by the evil ORV! Scarlett the Fox gets her leg caught under a branch and is right in the path of the on-coming four-wheeler. Can Ranger Rick save her? We'll have to wait until next month.

M'kay. I appreciate the idea of teaching kids about pollution and protecting habitats and all that mush, but this made me want to box up one of the dozen fresh racoon road kills on the county highway and mail it to the magazine with a note saying, "Ranger Rick threw himself in the path of the oncoming ORV to save Scarlett. I am looking forward to the next issue when you will have, I don't doubt, an inspiring obituary highlighting the heroic actions of this valiant racoon."

Or, supposing they use an understudy to keep Ranger Rick pontificating to young subscribers everywhere, here's a storyline I'd like to see: Ranger Rick, down on his luck because he's out of a job as a Kyoto treaty consultant, is reduced to picking through garbage cans while angry homeowners take pot shots at him with Daisy air rifles. He's caught in a live trap and doomed to be dispatched until a young woman, canvassing the neighborhood to drum up support for John Kerry, sees him in distress and thinking she can save him, opens the trap door. Ranger Rick rushes out, bites her on the arm, and flees into the street...only to be run over by a Volvo station wagon with a Wellstone sticker on the bumper.

I should write children's books for a living. I'd be so good at it.

Mom Needs A Time-Out

Yet another day while the Master Gardeners are off doing all things horticultural, and I am in charge of Cousin Adam (CA), The Senator, and The Governor.

The morning started early, rose to a fevered pitch before 9 a.m. and is now settling down.

First off the manager from my Friday night league called to see if I found a substitute for this evening. Oops. I solicited a few people, but didn't have time to check email responses. I'll get right on that.

Next, The Senator awakens at 7:10 a.m. Waaaaay too early. I worry he's going to be crabby and hyper-sensitive all day. So far, my fears have been justified. He was nearly in tears over the cantaloupe which had not been cut to his specifications.

The Governor wakes up half an hour later and starts in on CA. Not a bit of jealousy going on here. Nope. No way. The only words out of his mouth during his first waking hour were "No" and "Mine" and "Don't touch that!" Fortunately, CA can hold his own and dish it right back.

Fifteen minutes later, the director of the Park and Rec Services from my Tues/Thursday league calls. I missed the game last night, but found out from my teammate that the ref was questioning whether some of the players were on our roster. While I'm getting chewed out by the director, the dogs start barking for some unknown reason, and The Governor and CA are duking it out in the livingroom. CA comes into the kitchen wailing. The Governor bit him. Add in one kitchen strewn with half-finished efforts to pack a picnic lunch for the park.

Sigh.

Divide and conquer, they say, so I called the day care center at the nursing home. Any openings? Great. You'll be seeing The Governor at 9:30 a.m. Plan on keeping him until, oh, perhaps, Monday.

Drop off The Governor, and head for the park. It's cold and windy and deserted, but the boys enjoyed themselves. We hung out at the park for a couple of hours and headed home for lunch. The Senator and CA have been playing fairly well but when territorial issues arose over some toys, I decided that Rollie Pollie Ollie would buy me some peace and quiet. Little do they know that nap time looms ominously over their heads as soon as this half hour show is over.

Ahhhhhh. Behold the power of naps.

A Banner Day For Hoocher

This rather says it all, don't you think?

Spoiled, spoiled, spoiled. Today's haul included a piece of toast, a sausage, a cookie, and crumbs of unknown origins which were discovered under Mr. Peterson's chair. Hoocher has become so spoiled he actually turned up his nose at day-old popcorn.

I had a similarly good day in that the first person I saw was Rosie. Last Tuesday she was being wheeled out on a stretcher. She's back and in fine form. We discussed the weather and Regan's funeral. Well, I did. Rosie nodded and said, "Well good for them you can't tell why they did laugh once the children dusty window...can I pet your doggie?"

I was also informed by another resident today that John Kennedy had a new book out and I should spend the "do-ray-me" on it because it was sure to be a good one.

Are you thinking of Bill Clinton's new book?

No. Who? No. John Kennedy wrote a new book. I told Ernest [her husband] to go buy it.

Well, Mrs. E., I hadn't heard that John Kennedy was writing much these days, but if you're sure, I'll be certain to look for it.

You do that. It'll be good. Can I pet your doggie?

I'm pretty sure Mrs. E. is also the kind of person that writes in "FDR" on her voting ballot.

No more time to write today. I'll be on a mad cleaning spree as The Outpost gets ready to host my cousin and her son who will be visiting for several days. My cousin, Jenny, is a master gardener as is my mother. The two of them will be attending some big convention in nearby St. Cloud where a lot of gardeners get together and discuss grub worms and good dirt and the "must-have" perennials of year. I cannot tell you how much it distresses me that I cannot go along. I will instead be caring for Jenny's young son. Together with my boys, we will spend the days grilling hot dogs, going to the lake, visiting all the local parks, making root beer floats, taking golf cart rides around the countryside, watching classic Bugs Bunny cartoons, and perhaps lying on our backs outside watching the clouds pass overhead. I make unlimitless sacrifies for my family.

The above paragraph is also an example of why my mother secretly wishes Jenny were her daughter and I was the niece.

Light posting from now until next Monday unless I can talk The Professor into watching the store for a while.

Have a great week.

Awww....

Another cute chick picture for Velociman.

Heh

Friday Football

What a fabulous night for playing soccer! The brisk wind and cool temperatures kept the mosquitoes at bay for most of the evening. Too bad my team couldn't find the net, even though we spent 99% of the time in front of their goal. Everything went over the top or hit the pipes. No luck. The other team scored on a penalty kick - their only shot on our goal for the entire 90 minutes. Our goalkeeper came out to take the ball away from their forward (she wasn't very good - should have been an easy pick-off) and he bumped her for good measure. She fell, whistle blew, and they score. Unbelievable. Our keeper felt bad. As well he should. Chump.

Ah well. Still, it was a perfect night to play.

The day wasn't too bad either. I took the boys to Lake Rebecca Park Reserve and met a friend and her son there. We ruled the playground for an hour or so, and then walked down to check out the beach. Big. Mistake.

The Senator took off his shoes and socks to go wading in the water. The frigid, chilly, dead fish-infested, smelly water. The Governor followed suit, but true to his nature, he made a direct path into the lake right up to his waist. Not to be outdone by his younger brother, The Senator then flings himself into deeper water...submersing himself up to his neck. The Governor returns to the beach to further amuse himself by picking up goose poop and flinging it into the water. The Senator picks up a dead sunfish. I think I'm going to have to look into buying one of those machines they use to irradiate beef. Blech.

We returned from the park to take yet another poll on the nap issue. The No Nap supporters were silent; Mom carried off yet another victory.

So now I'm back from soccer and trying to catch up on all the laundry, dishes, and general housekeeping I've neglected all week. I may surface again on Sunday.

Oh No!

What happened to Rodger?! Curmudgeonly & Skeptical is part of my morning routine. Say it ain't so! This cannot be. I am not happy.

*UPDATE* - Nevermind. I must have been dreaming. Phew.

Hot Chick Picture

Not content to board the county's most unintelligent mammals, The Outpost is now home to the county's most unintelligent birds:

When these little buggers get bigger, we'll release them into the surrounding fields. We don't eat them, but the fox and coyotes and hawks will.

The last time we (this is a joint effort with our neighbors) raised pheasants, they (the pheasants, not our neighbors) decided to live in clusters at strategic points all over the farm. Like in the middle of the driveway. It's so annoying to be heading out and have to stop, unbuckle, and kick a few pheasants out of your way. Normally, I'd just run over them, but sometimes they don't go under the tire smoothly and they get caught up around your license plate and bumper. Very untidy.

Cuter than the cows, but not as tasty.

Nursing Home Tuesday

Today was not one of our better visits. I walked into the nursing home only to be greeted by paramedics wheeling Rosie out on a stretcher. She was bundled up in blankets; only her face was showing. Her eyes appeared to be open and the paramedics seemed to be in a hurry, so I assumed she hadn't passed away. I hope I'm right. I hope she'll be back. I don't want that to be my last memory of Rosie. We still have lots of incoherent conversations to finish.

Hoocher fared little better than I did. We were visitng with Malina when the snack cart lady stopped to offer Hoocher a piece of popcorn. Then she handed Malina a few pieces to feed to Hoocher. Only Malina ate them right in front of Hoocher's nose. To add insult to injury, Malina started yelling about something and sprayed popcorn spittle all over the two of us. Hoocher is a lot more forgiving about this sort of thing than I am. I wheeled Malina back into her room and we left. Next week I'll re-introduce myself and today will be water under the bridge.

When we all got home, the boys both became irritable. They're not much for early mornings. We ate lunch and now it's nap time. I was voted down 2-1 on the whole nap issue, but that's what is so great about The Republic of The Outpost. While the No Nap supporters had a majority of the votes, the parental college is weighted heavily in favor of Mom.

Now I'm pondering how to avoid tackling the remaining 3/4 of THE BACKYARD. I don't think I can face it again so soon. Perhaps July.

Something To Steady The Old Bones? Why Thank You.

The limbs are still a bit shaky, so I apologize in advance for any typos. Today I tackled THE BACKYARD.

Picture if you will...an acre left to grow wild. Neglected and abandonded. My backyard. Several varieties of grass have reached waist-high, and the thistles are taller yet. 2000 mosquitoes per square foot. Snakes and toads lie hidden in the weeds, along with a lot of downed branches from the last big storm. Most of the landscaping rock has breached the edging, creating millions of blade-destroying obstacles. Don't forget the steep incline to the east.

And the riding mower is too big to fit through the gate.

So it's you and the push mower versus a landscape that would make horror movie set designers weep with envy.

About ten minutes into mowing I realized that we had let THE BACKYARD go unattended for too long. I couldn't make a four foot pass without clogging the chute and stalling the motor. Something had to be done. Time to fire up the gas weed trimmer.

Yep, that's right. I tackled THE BACKYARD with a weed trimmer. How miserable was it? I think clear-cutting the Brazilian rain forest with a butter knife might be easier.

And the entire time I'm hacking away at weeds the size of small saplings and praying that I don't see any more snakes bigger than that last one, I couldn't help but think that 20 yards away, my solution to this mess was staring me in the face. Literally. Four perpetually hungry cows could level everything in THE BACKYARD to putting green status in a couple of days. Alas, I had no way to herd them across the front yard and into the back. At least not with any reasonable confidence of success. And if I let the cows escape again, I don't think my father-in-law would be too pleased.

So I worked away with the weed trimmer until it ran out of gas and the entire right side of my body was vibrating like a hummingbird. I am hoping that by tomorrow I can drink out of a cup and get more of the liquid in my mouth than down the front of my shirt.

Want to know the worst part? I'm only a quarter of the way done with THE BACKYARD. It's either time to start drinking or start sobbing.

Where's the bottle opener?

Testing...Testing...Anyone There?

Eww. A few cobwebs hanging around the old blog. Mighty dusty too.

So what, you may be asking yourself, has kept this humble blogger from writing? Unfortunately, there is no answer. Or, if there is, I fear it may be so mundane or trite as to disappoint. Since Thursday, we've been doing a lot of nothing special, which is the way summer is supposed to progress, if you ask me. We've run through the sprinkler and played with the garden hose. We've watched thunderstorms and slapped at mosquitoes. We've gone 4-wheeling and rode bicycles. We've drawn with chalk on the front sidewalk and we've played Hungry, Hungry Hippos on the rainy days. In essence, what we've done is the kind of stuff that when someone asks, "What have you been doing lately?" you answer "Nothin' much."

And it's been great. Except for the mosquitoes part. Deer flies are out too. Say goodbye to long walks after dinner.

The boys have been doing well. The Governor, especially, is picking up and applying all sorts of good information. This morning The Senator was a bit crabby at breakfast, and The Gov pointed a small finger at him and said, "I think YOU need to go back to bed!" Of course this threw The Senator into a tizzy which flared into a full-blown tantrum when I said, "Hey, Governor, that's just what I was going to say."

The tempest has passed, and now we're all playing quietly in the basement for a while before we head outside. I believe it is shaping up to be a great day for water balloons.

I Knew It Was Too Early To Put Away The Long Underwear

Apparently Summer has decided to bring back early Spring for another run. Raining and chilly. Yee-haw. However, colder temperatures seem to make the mosquitoes move a bit more slowly, so there's your silver lining.

I was watching the cows out the kitchen window this morning. They were finally finishing up the oats and corn I dumped in the trough last night. Tuesday night they didn't eat their food and so when it rained heavily, the trough clogged up and made a soggy mess. Hey, that was fun to clean! Stupid cows. This stupidity factor is what makes it soooo easy to eat them. I like to think I'm doing the food chain a major service. Mutual of Omaha's Wild Kingdom taught me that it's usually the sick or weak animals that get culled by predators. They forgot stupid.

Well The Governor just walked in and asked if he could have the scissors so he could cut off his shirt. How come that never appears in one of those "What To Do With Your Child This Summer" articles in the parent magazines? How does a 2-year-old think up something that entertaining but it completely escapes a degree-laden professional? Where are the scissors?

Lights Out

A bad storm blew our power lines down early Tuesday morning, and an infestation of preschool friends kept me away from the keyboard today, so no apologies for not posting. Trust me, I'd rather be sitting here typing than trying to keep seven hyper children from using my garden as a sandbox.

The storm Monday night/Tuesday morning was wild. Not much rain, just lots of wind. I woke up because the sound of debris hitting the house was so loud. When we saw the raccoon go sailing by the window, we hit the basement. We lost power about 1:30 in the morning and got it restored in the early evening. The boys and I high-tailed it to the cities to impose on my folks. I can handle a house without electricity, but when your water source is cut off...that's a whole different story. It's a step backwards to holler at your child "Don't flush and don't wash your hands!" whenever they step into the bathroom. (For you city dwellers: when the electricity goes, so does the pump that operates with your well.)

No more time to post: it's too quiet upstairs. More tomorrow if time permits.

I'm Back

Sorry, again, my faithful devotees about the lack of posting. I am still recovering from an awesome weekend. The awesome part started just after my Friday night soccer game in which my team had our asses handed to us by what appeared to be the Cameroon national squad. It wasn't pretty.

Saturday I spent cleaning and getting ready for my friends to arrive. We try to organize a Girls Night Out at least every other month. But when the Night Out is held at The Outpost, it's assumed everyone stays overnight. Too far to drive for a mere evening. I'd like to publish a transcript of some of the conversations that were held Saturday evening, but as the saying goes, "What happens at The Outpost, stays at The Outpost." If any of the husbands are reading this...the answer is yes, we did talk about you! Ha ha ha ha ha! Now you'll wonder all day, won't you? Was it locker room talk or did we merely rant about how you won't pick up your dirty socks or put your dinner plate in the dishwasher?

Actually, we didn't talk about you. Except Joe. He offered to be our bartender for the evening. I guess the dress code changed his mind. I told him he had to wear something from the Garden of Eden Line - What the Well-Dressed Sinner is wearing.

Sunday was a slow recovery and then soccer in the blistering sun, sweating Bacardi out of all pores.

Today has been another hot one; 94 degrees. I'm a little hesitant to declare summer quite yet. I never rule out a garden-killing frost until July.

Moooovin' On Over

Okay! Here are the newest Outpost residents as promised. Aren't they adorable?

Sporting the latest in Traffic Safety Orange earrings...

I took The Senator to get his haircut the other day, and I told the barber that we had 4 new cows and we'll keep them until the fall. She looked at The Senator warily and then whispered, "And then you'll...." The Senator looks up and says, "Roast 'em!"

Your Turn To Mow The Law, Deere

Sluggish computer or connection yesterday; I had no patience to wait four minutes for a page load. And besides...the sun was shining. We finally had a beautiful day around here. Today is shaping up to be another, so look for light to non-existent posting.

I will try and post a couple of pictures later. Our future steak dinners arrived Tuesday evening. They're so cute. They'll look even better grilled up and laying on a plate next to a baked potato.

My father-in-law has finally broken down and is going to let me back on the John Deere riding mower today. I'm picturing our conversation this afternoon:

Now, see that black, plastic landscape edging? Don't run over it.

Got it. Anything else?

See that asparagus patch? Don't run over it.

You bet.

And don't terrorize the cows. You may not do 'fly-bys' along the pasture fence.

Sure, sure. This is easy. How's about handing over the key, Buppa?

(sob) Let's go over this one more time...

The Outpost is going to look sharp when I get through with it.

Sticks And Stones...

I saw this over at Misha's, but here's the link to the story right from Newmax.

Democratic senator - and certain presidential nominee - John F. Kerry gave the middle finger to a Vietnam veteran at the Vietnam Memorial Wall on Memorial Day morning, NewsMax.com has learned.

Ted Sampley, a former Green Beret who served two full tours in Vietnam, spotted Kerry and his Secret Service detail at about 9:00 a.m. Monday morning at the Wall. Sampley walked up to Kerry, extended his hand and said, "Senator, I am Ted Sampley, the head of Vietnam Veterans Against John Kerry, and I am here to escort you away from the Wall because you do not belong here."

At that point a Secret Service officer told Sampley to back away from Kerry. Sampley moved about 6 feet away and opened his jacket to reveal a HANOI JOHN T-shirt.

Kerry then began talking to a group of schoolchildren. Sampley then showed the T-shirt to the children and said, "Kerry does not belong at the Wall because he betrayed the brave soldiers who fought in Vietnam."

Just then Kerry - in front of the school children, other visitors and Secret Service agents - brazenly 'flashed the bird' at Sampley and then yelled out to everyone, "Sampley is a felon!"

Kerry was referring to an incident 12 years ago when Sampley confronted Sen. John McCain's chief aide, Mark Salter, in a Senate stairwell after McCain repeatedly offended POW families at a Senate POW hearing. Sampley, whose father-in-law at that time was MIA in Laos, followed Salter into the stairwell and, when they emerged, Salter had a bloody lip and a broken nose.

Look for Kerry to get caught throwing eggs at Rush Limbaugh's house this fall.

You know, on second thought, I think this type of behavior might really reflect positively on a Commander in Chief. What are the odds of convincing GW moon the entire UN?

Something's Afoot At The Circle K...

I was very close to calling the nursing home this morning to say we wouldn't be there for our usual visit. Both boys woke up in strange moods. The kind of mood that should warn you straight off that attempting anything will be a futile waste of energy. We should have all crawled back into bed and stayed there until lunch.

But poor Hoocher...he had already suffered through his bath. It would have been cruel to deprive him of the free handouts and the opportunity to jump up on some furniture simply because the boys were owly. So we went.

Hopefully I'll learn to consult the oracle at Delphi or read tea leaves or something next time the omens bode ill. What a waste of energy. The boys were crabby. The Governor spent the whole time laying on the daycare center floor with his blanket and his pacifier. Everytime Hoocher and I entered someone's room, we were interrupted by a nurse or a physical therapist or a relative of some sort. No quality snuggling for Hoocher today. And only two pieces of popcorn. Two. Not even a handful.

We left early and The Governor fell asleep in the car. He's been napping for a couple of hours. Since he's been doing his best lately to postpone or avoid naps altogether, I cannot help but think this means a cold or illness of some sort.

Did I mention it's been raining and misting? And how does that differ from the last six or seven days? It doesn't.

On the bright side...

Steve H. finally got his cookbook published. Order for the brownie recipe; stay for the humor.

Dan is back from vacation and should be posting soon.

Chris is always good for a laugh.

Maura's got a great post on Taps, including downloads for your listening pleasure.

Andy tries valiantly to proclaim he's left of center and then proceeds to affirm my belief that he's a secret member of the VRWC.

And Natalie prepares for the invasion of her mother-in-law.

As for me...I'm looking for the REW button for today. Perhaps it gets better after a couple of viewings.