I was at Walgreens today. Had to pick up cat food and dog treats. It's easier to stop there than run 120 miles inside the super store to the pet aisle.
While I was there, I checked out the kid stuff. I don't have a ton of toys here for the grandkids. I wanted something new for the next time they're over.
That's when I found this:
OK, so it's just a cardboard playhouse. But I thought it was cute.
The grandson will be able to color it however he wants.
The granddaughter will just want to be where her brother is.
Of course, they'll have to fight the cats for it. They're sure I got it for them.
By the way. This thing is HUGE!!
Monday, October 17, 2011
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Poop Diary
Today I am writing about poop. Yes, poop. Turds and stuff.
It's not my fault.
An employee and I were talking about our pets. I was pleased that my less than intelligent dog seemed to be learning the rule of not pooping in the house. It's been a struggle, requiring the use of treats as a reward for doing the deed outside.
Anyway, as this conversation progressed, we got into the category of cat poop. I remarked that Sir, my extra-large tomcat,shits er, poops dog turds. She understood having had a large cat of her own once.
And Herself, Cat, Mistress of All, poops little dry pebbles of poo easily swept up if she chooses other than the litter box. Not that she would. Often. This elicited an "aw" of sympathy for the trouble it must be to pop those dry pellets out.
Then, there is Wee, who in perfect accord with cat mythology, leaves in her litter, perfectly formed little tootsie rolls. Which the dog never, ahem, attempts to eat. (Did I mention my dog is less than intelligent?)
We then look at each other a moment.
We are talking about pet poop.
As though this is an important aspect of our lives.
That we can tell which pet is which by poop.
We need affirmation that we are not alone.
Please.
It's not my fault.
An employee and I were talking about our pets. I was pleased that my less than intelligent dog seemed to be learning the rule of not pooping in the house. It's been a struggle, requiring the use of treats as a reward for doing the deed outside.
Anyway, as this conversation progressed, we got into the category of cat poop. I remarked that Sir, my extra-large tomcat,
And Herself, Cat, Mistress of All, poops little dry pebbles of poo easily swept up if she chooses other than the litter box. Not that she would. Often. This elicited an "aw" of sympathy for the trouble it must be to pop those dry pellets out.
Then, there is Wee, who in perfect accord with cat mythology, leaves in her litter, perfectly formed little tootsie rolls. Which the dog never, ahem, attempts to eat. (Did I mention my dog is less than intelligent?)
We then look at each other a moment.
We are talking about pet poop.
As though this is an important aspect of our lives.
That we can tell which pet is which by poop.
We need affirmation that we are not alone.
Please.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Advice From a Crappy Mother
I linked to Mama Kat's this week. I chose prompt #5.) Advice to new mothers
I can hardly be called an expert. I have only one child, because I'm not a natural mommy type. Children always made me uncomfortable. I lack patience, a necessity when dealing with young people.
So, who am I to advise a new mother? I'm an observer, a watcher.
My first bit of advice? Relax, New Mommy! You're doing fine. All the advice your friends give, all the stuff you read on the internet? It's all someone else's opinion, it may have been good for them. But, if it's not comfortable for you, it's not going to give you confidence.
During my scary passage into motherhood, most of the advice I received was from my own mother. Most of that advice was good. But, I found the best lessons I learned came from my own experience. My own experience and listening to my inner mother. Because i had that, though I didn't recognize it until much later. I had that "instinct" to take care of, to love my child.
Did I do a stellar job? No. I did not. That lack of patience was a problem. My own selfishness, my need to not lose myself into mommydom, was a problem. Being a single mother was harder than I thought it was going to be. Then marrying a man who, even though he loved my daughter and myself, had control issues that made ours lives less than pleasant at times, was a problem.
Looking back, my biggest mistakes make up the advice I would give.
Say "I love you" more often.
Play those endless children's games that make you crazy until the child is finally bored.
Hug your child every minute you have.
Do not put anyone else in your heart before your child.
Take more pictures.
Listen to everything they say, it's not all baby talk.
Listen to your inner mommy, it's smarter than you think.
Say "I love you" more often.
No matter how tired you are, pay attention to them, let them know you're there.
And if you make mistakes, don't panic. My daughter turned out fine, in spite of her mother. She even lets me hang around with the grandkids.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
If I Was a Hoarder...
I wrote for prompt #2 If I was a hoarder...

If I was hoarder, what would I hoard?
That's hard, because I'm not a hoarder.
Oh, I have several dozen bandannas. In different patterns and colors. But they fit into two small dresser drawers. And they have a function. I wear them, one at a time if course, at work.
I have a rather hefty yarn stash. For projects I'm going to do someday. Those people that gave it to me were just going to throw it away! That? Would be wasteful.
I stopped saving glass jars and margarine tubs a long time ago. I didn't have room for my teapot collection, so they just had to go.
And doesn't everyone have a dozen, or so, Christmas trees? They all need lights and ornaments. And matching tree skirts. And the three dozen nutcrackers were inherited from my mother. And the acrylic Christmas decorations from Avon are so pretty. And the Christmas carol singing mice started with my dad.
And the husband is putting a floor in the huge attic for storage. So we can have the guest bedroom again.
So, since I'm not a hoarder, I just can't think of anything I'd hoard.
If I was hoarder, what would I hoard?
That's hard, because I'm not a hoarder.
Oh, I have several dozen bandannas. In different patterns and colors. But they fit into two small dresser drawers. And they have a function. I wear them, one at a time if course, at work.
I have a rather hefty yarn stash. For projects I'm going to do someday. Those people that gave it to me were just going to throw it away! That? Would be wasteful.
I stopped saving glass jars and margarine tubs a long time ago. I didn't have room for my teapot collection, so they just had to go.
And doesn't everyone have a dozen, or so, Christmas trees? They all need lights and ornaments. And matching tree skirts. And the three dozen nutcrackers were inherited from my mother. And the acrylic Christmas decorations from Avon are so pretty. And the Christmas carol singing mice started with my dad.
And the husband is putting a floor in the huge attic for storage. So we can have the guest bedroom again.
So, since I'm not a hoarder, I just can't think of anything I'd hoard.
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Come Write With Me
I started this blog ten months ago. September 2010. I'm an intermittent blogger. Sometimes I have a story to tell. Most times not. My life is not full of excitement.
When I first met bloggers on Twitter, I tried to read my little group daily. I did a good job. I convinced myself I could do this, too. After all, I'd kept a journal for years.
So, I would sporadically throw a post out, I'd read posts from my first little group. My "network" began to grow a bit.
It got harder to keep up my reading. It got harder to find interesting things to write about. But? I like to write. When the mood (muse?) is with me.
So, silly me, I started a second blog in November. A place to write poems. Create stories. I kept it hidden. Until February. I took a deep breath, and tweeted the link to my other site, Elsetime & Otherwhen. And in February, I wrote my first post for a prompt from The Red Dress Club, a blog site for people who want to write and get feedback from other writers.
I've written flash fiction, fantasy, a poem, many memories, and even a short horror story. Some of my stuff is badly done, but I think I've improved a bit. I don't do all of the prompts, sometimes it's time issues. Sometimes I'm just blank. But I appreciate that it is there.
So, if I haven't posted here for a while, click the link on the right, the one with the glowy kitty eyes. Chances are I've written something over there. It may or may not be of interest.
It may inspire some to join me in this adventure in writing. Anyone can join. If you write somewhere else, let me know. I'll find a day to fit you into my reading list.
The more the merrier.
When I first met bloggers on Twitter, I tried to read my little group daily. I did a good job. I convinced myself I could do this, too. After all, I'd kept a journal for years.
So, I would sporadically throw a post out, I'd read posts from my first little group. My "network" began to grow a bit.
It got harder to keep up my reading. It got harder to find interesting things to write about. But? I like to write. When the mood (muse?) is with me.
So, silly me, I started a second blog in November. A place to write poems. Create stories. I kept it hidden. Until February. I took a deep breath, and tweeted the link to my other site, Elsetime & Otherwhen. And in February, I wrote my first post for a prompt from The Red Dress Club, a blog site for people who want to write and get feedback from other writers.
I've written flash fiction, fantasy, a poem, many memories, and even a short horror story. Some of my stuff is badly done, but I think I've improved a bit. I don't do all of the prompts, sometimes it's time issues. Sometimes I'm just blank. But I appreciate that it is there.
So, if I haven't posted here for a while, click the link on the right, the one with the glowy kitty eyes. Chances are I've written something over there. It may or may not be of interest.
It may inspire some to join me in this adventure in writing. Anyone can join. If you write somewhere else, let me know. I'll find a day to fit you into my reading list.
The more the merrier.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Outdoor Projects by Amateurs
The Husband and I have been busy in the yard this week. Some long overdue clean-up and a couple projects that wanted done. Well, needed done for one of them.
But it is now under control and looking better.
And then. Ta Da! It isn't very professional. But I did it myself. I am rather pleased with myself. So don't burst my bubble.
I've been looking at this one for two years. Ewww!
It's a start.
And my pet project finally got done.
This hole under the arbor was a hill of fill dirt, rocks and mud.
Already looked better as a hole!
Happy Sigh.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
My Daughter is Da Bomb!
I posted about memory for a writing prompt.
But I couldn't remember all the words for one of the songs I listed. Within minutes my daughter, the smartest kid in the known universe, found and sent me the lyrics. And here they are:
"Song-Fong-Lo was painted on a saucer
Wing-Tee-Wee was on a fan
Song-Fong-Lo he came across her
On the dressing stand.
They both had travelled many miles on the sea
Each gave the other smiles of sweet sympathy
Song-Fong fell in love with Wee ,
Singing tenderly
Wee, please come with me
And let's go back to dreamy lotus land
There 'mid flower fair
I swear to love you, love you
'Neath the magic moon above you
Wee, I love but thee
Just wait and see
That wondrous dream I've planned
I'll leave my saucer
You leave your fan
And let's go back to dreamy lotus land
Wing-Tee-Wee as soon as he had spoken
Came from off her silken fan
In her hurry she was broken
No more can she stand.
Poor little Song-Fong with the tears in his eye
Stands all alone and wishes he too could die
As he dreams the dreams gone by
Each night he must sigh,
Wee, please come with me
And let's go back to dreamy lotus land
There 'mid flower fair
I swear to love you, love you
'Neath the magic moon above you
Wee, I love but thee
Just wait and see
That wondrous dream I've planned
I'll leave my saucer
You leave your fan
And let's go back to dreamy lotus land"
But I couldn't remember all the words for one of the songs I listed. Within minutes my daughter, the smartest kid in the known universe, found and sent me the lyrics. And here they are:
"Song-Fong-Lo was painted on a saucer
Wing-Tee-Wee was on a fan
Song-Fong-Lo he came across her
On the dressing stand.
They both had travelled many miles on the sea
Each gave the other smiles of sweet sympathy
Song-Fong fell in love with Wee ,
Singing tenderly
Wee, please come with me
And let's go back to dreamy lotus land
There 'mid flower fair
I swear to love you, love you
'Neath the magic moon above you
Wee, I love but thee
Just wait and see
That wondrous dream I've planned
I'll leave my saucer
You leave your fan
And let's go back to dreamy lotus land
Wing-Tee-Wee as soon as he had spoken
Came from off her silken fan
In her hurry she was broken
No more can she stand.
Poor little Song-Fong with the tears in his eye
Stands all alone and wishes he too could die
As he dreams the dreams gone by
Each night he must sigh,
Wee, please come with me
And let's go back to dreamy lotus land
There 'mid flower fair
I swear to love you, love you
'Neath the magic moon above you
Wee, I love but thee
Just wait and see
That wondrous dream I've planned
I'll leave my saucer
You leave your fan
And let's go back to dreamy lotus land"
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