The Space Between the Spots

I trimmed our old dog, Scout, the other day. With sweet Scout, time is measurable in a few ways.


• the amount her hair has grown since the last trim.

• the increase in her arthritis symptoms.

• the lessening of the space between her cute little freckles.


She and I both share the first and the last of these measurables. I had my hair trimmed just yesterday and, by golly, new age spots freckles show up on my hands with increasing frequency.

Time, she marches on...and, happily, freckles remain forever cute.

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Smile and say, "Cheese"

I learned something new, something that I bet you didn't know, but that you might just have to verify on your own.

What I learned is this...It is nearly impossible, well, for me totally impossible, to take a selfie with your tongue out and still look good. I learned this, of course, because I wanted to capture an image of my bruised tongue.

I tried looking surprised - not good.

I tried looking sad - not good.

I even tried looking "normal" - so not good.


So, go for it, you know you want to. Stick that tongue out and snap a pic.

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Trail Bliss

It was a big day in the life of our dog, Hazel.  Now this may not seem like any big deal, but let me tell you where we started.

When Hazel was a wee pup she had a few phobias.  You know, scary stuff like a leaf blowing by, a trash bin being rolled, her metal dish being set on the floor.  Ya, scary!

I've been taking her to the hike and bike trails right near our house because I love going there so much and what would be better than being accompanied by this girl, right?  We started a couple of weeks ago and it was TERRIFYING!  Bicyclists would pass and clearly they were just about to take a big chomp outa Hazel's leg.  A runner would pass by us and Hazel was quite sure they were going to go for her jugular.  A dog would hurry past and it was just so obvious that they had rabies or some other reason to viciously attack.

Well, give up we didn't.  We pushed right on through those fears and today...drum roll...Hazel finally realized that there were no predators and she most certainly was not prey.

...and she even drank out of an unfamiliar dog water dish.  This is big stuff, people, and this mama is feelin' happy and proud.

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50% off of everything in my Daily Paintworks shop through the end of the month.  
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Polly Want a Kiss?

I heard on the radio not long ago that there was an increase in salmonella poisoning.  And do you know who were the most likely to be coming down with it?  Chicken owners.  And do you know why there were coming down with it?  They had been kissing their chickens!

Now when I heard this I thought, "That is so freakin' weird!!! Icky, bleck, patooey!"

Of course you know that I own chickens, right?


Well, I have to confess something.  The last few times I've been holding my chickens and looking into their sweet little glassy eyes, I've felt the urge to kiss them on their little feathery cheeks.  What has come over me?!?!

So I've officially started a new trend.  Air kissing chickens.

Mwah!

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Feelin' Sassy

I got my hair cut short today.  First time in about eight years...maybe more.  And I'm lovin' it!  I had only one extremely brief flutter of the heart when I saw the heap (and I do mean heap, this girl had big Texas hair, after all) of blond locks on the floor.  But then I was feeling fine-n-sassy.

I stopped by two of my favorite lady friends' homes on the way to my house to make sure my feelings of sassiness were warranted.  And, yes, they were warranted.


As I pulled into the driveway I wondered:

-Would my kids still recognize me?
-Will my husband still love me?
-Will I look just as sassy in my own mirror.

Yup, yup, yup!  My new -do is kid tested and husband and mirror approved.


Now if I can just manage to stop pushing my now nonexistent hair off of my shoulders I wouldn't look like so much of a doofus.

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Barbed Wire - 2, Kali - 0

I was in two battles today with barbed wire fences.

Battle #1:  I was slipping through the strands of barbed wire with the kid to go recover a rocket.  He got through fine.  Me not so much.  My pants snagged on one of the barbs which threw my momentum off, my arms went a'whirling, and I got two lovely scratches on my left hand from some particularly rusty barbs.

Battle #2:  On the way back after recovering the rocket we were going over another barbed wire fence.  The kid got right over and offered help.  I held a post with my bleeding hand and took his hand with my other.  I stepped on the fencing and as he pulled me up he lost his grip, and I fell back...WHAM!...on my shoulder.  All in front of a small crowd of people.

While #1 is now my reason for having a Monday morning appointment to get a tetanus shot, #2 gave my dad excellent footage to capture with his quadcoptor he had circling above.


And the Oscar goes to....


And it's OK to laugh.  I am.

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