Cookie Calling

In case anyone doubted that cookies call out to me.

Notice how that cookie that looks suspiciously like Mr. Wonderful is trying to steal the limelight?
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Remotely addicted

So the remote control for the TV/Cable box died this morning.

It may or may not have (allegedly) been a homicide.

A hot cup of coffee and poor morning motor skills may (allegedly) have been involved.

Now the "3" works and the volume works (but only goes up, not down, which is fun at 5 a.m.)

Before anyone gets all uppity with the "you COULD just walk over and change the channel loser!" let me assure you that no, you can't. I tried.

Okay, I thought about trying but I know from experience that you cannot control the cable television box in anything beyond the most rudimentary way without the remote. The remote is the key to all cable happiness.

So I called and, of course, there is no technical fix available via telephone for "customer doused remote in hot coffee." Poor planning and distinct lack of knowledge of their customer base if you ask me. Are you listening Comcast? Waterproof Remote Controls. That would work.

Now I get to drive 30 minutes each way to replace the remote. The sad thing? That doesn't bother me - it's my fault after all - it's waiting nearly three whole hours until they open at 9:00 a.m. that's going to make me all kinds of crazy.

Would meeting the employees in the parking lot as they arrive look desperate?

Snow Dogs

So I am finally relenting and considering a path I once swore I would never travel. Considering a choice that I support for others but swore would be one I would never take.

I am speaking, of course, of dog clothes.

Our dogs are pure country. They have poor home raisin' and generally behave like they did, in fact, grow up in a barn.

I bring them in during inclement weather and they stand at the door in abject misery. I see "warm and cozy now isn't that nice?" They see a hostage situation and stand there plotting and sighing like they are mounting an escape from Alcatraz.

This morning, however, big dog Ace, the German Shepherd, was seen to be literally shivering in the cold. Meanwhile, fat ottoman shaped dog, Jagger, was sprawled out on the porch with his triple-layer Newfoundland coat and ample body fat with nary a care in the world. "Oh is it snowing? I hadn't noticed."

So I think Ace needs a new coat. Maybe a nice puffer down or a Woolrich? Something to wear so I don't have to drag him bodily into the house and wrap a sofa throw around him (which he will promptly eat).

So tell me the truth friends? Is there anyone out there who dresses a dog that ISN'T small enough to carry in a purse?

Can I big dog still show his face in the world - and scare of intruders, squirrels, and errant UPS drivers while wearing a down-filled fleece?

What about a matching hat?


Okay friends, I need a little favor.

Every single one of you who actually come to my house, I need you to enter my dining room, recoil in horror, pause, look thoughtful, and say something along the lines of "have you ever considered removing that wall?"

I think you can do that, don't you?

There is a wall that divides the kitchen and dining room that has become the bane of my existence. I have a vision of opening it up so the dining room and kitchen flow together nicely. Bonus points for losing a wholly stupid 11" deep closet in the dining room.

Mr. Wonderful, however, will blather on about load bearing wall, enormous brick wall embedded within, etc. etc.

Ignore him. He doesn't always see my vision. At first.

Gertie the Guard Goat

So I'm sitting here minding my biz and getting fatter on the couch eating almonds which are good for you but probably NOT if you eat the entire can.

I hear the faint sound of a buzzsaw. Or perhaps a cat being strangled. Since our own most-wonderful-cat-in-the-whole-world is sitting right here breathing easy, I know it's not actually a cat being strangled.

Still, I jump up and check the pool because, hello, I learned a thing or two.

I peer outside to discover that it's Gertie, our goat. She is standing at the corner of the pasture losing her MIND over the fact that the girls are sledding down the front hill - visible (at least the top) from her pasture.

Being a goat I'm thinking she is not quite familiar with the norms of sledding. She seems really overwrought about the whole thing.

I realize there's a pattern here. As the girls reappear at the top of the hill - she relaxes and falls silent.
As they hop on the sled's and crest over the top of the hill she loses it and begins braying again. If you were to speak goat I suspect it goes something like "Oh, oh no! They are going over the cliff! Aaaahgghh they are gone. Gone I tell you! GONE! Can no one help us? Is there no one to save them? That blond one, she feeds me! Somebody anybody help! ... oh, wait? What's this. Oh praise the Heavens they are alive! They have survived! Oh it's wonderful news! I shall eat again! Oh, my, that was close ..." ... "What? Oh No! They are gong over a cliff AGAIN! "

She seriously seems concerned about the children sledding.

Clearly, she's a nanny goat.