Tidbits, This & That

I was supposed to post today about a big happening in our family a couple of days ago but I haven't done it yet. So I will tomorrow. I will beg your indulgence as a very proud mama drags Miss Hannah-Bo out for everyone to see. I am beside myself. And that makes two of me. That could be bad.

And I'm in a holding pattern over an expectant mom friend. I am her doula. I do (la) this once in awhile for friends and I was there for the last birth. Can't wait. Gotta go get my bag ready and my catcher's mitt. No, not really. Thankfully the doctor's got that covered. I just get the privilege of coaching and helping her deliver a beautiful baby boy! He's joining two sisters and is greatly anticipated. It's blessed work! What compares to a beautiful little life coming into the world? I get to be there to witness God's handiwork!

And finally, I am only 5 followers away from my contest! I just have to say THANK YOU to all my new friends. I won't question your sanity as it's already suspect since you decided to hang out with me. And besides, if you were completely sane I'm not sure we'd have enough in common. And THANK YOU to all of you who came along before now and felt sorry enough for me to join up. I appreciate pity. It's really underrated. And if you haven't joined, jump in! The water is fast and freezing but I have a life-line and scratchy towels!

A Bear Market - Part 3

We still had another night to go. We knew they'd be back. And they were. This time we would be waiting for them. So would Bear Bait.

We slept restlessly but the kids slept great. They were a little miffed when they woke up and realized what had happened and no one woke them. JoJo was a little miffed, too. And a lot older. But the kids had fun checking out the mess and JoJo hit pay dirt eating what the bears had left behind.

We saved what food we could. They had left two packages of Little Debbie Snack Cakes completely untouched. That should tell you something about Little Debbie. Grizzly was happy. He had breakfast. But we had to make a grocery run. We found enough left to snack around on for the kids and I but by lunchtime, everyone wanted real food. We decided to hit the dining establishment at Huntington Lake before we headed to town.

We drug ourselves into the Lakeshore Lodge restaurant looking like we'd just stepped off the set of "Deliverance." I think the Wild Man was even missing some teeth at the time. And Hannah Bo and I have exceptional hair. Get it dirty, add a little moisture and you can see the family resemblance between us and Albert Einstein who gave "big hair" a whole new meaning. We had been camping for six days with only baby wipes for pretend baths. We beat our clothes and dusted off but the fact of the matter was, we were disgusting.

We just didn't care.

We chatted up the waitress who tried to serve us from as far away as her arm would let her. We ate heartily and tipped well. It was the least we could do. And as I've been known to say, I always try to do the least I can do.

Our full bellies gave us renewed energy and we began to plot and plan for the evening events we knew were coming. We stopped by the campground offices which were down the road and across a main bridge. We found out there had been another bear incident. A guy had left dog food in his truck and mama bear bashed the window in and sent the kids after the goods. It made us glad we had forgotten to roll up the window. At least it wasn't broken. But, now that they knew the food was inside, they wouldn't let a window stop them. The ranger said to expect them. Maybe smart people would have gone home at this point but we have never been mistaken for smart people. Besides, we wanted to squeeze the life out of our last day. We weren't about to hand it over to a bear or three.

We grabbed enough grub to get us through another night, including marshmallows, hot chocolate, and coffee. Our plan included sitting around the campfire long enough to let them head for the car and then we would chase them off. If we had to sit up half the night in the cold, we at least wanted to be fortified with caffeine and sugar.

We convinced the Wild Man he had to go to bed by ten. He was eight at the time so his droopy eyelids helped seal the deal, and Lassie was more than willing to climb to the bottom of his sleeping bag and keep his feet company. But Hannah Bo was determined to make it all night. She had always been a night owl and this was worth staying up for. Grizzly had a plan and excitement was in the air.

Grizzly frequently has plans.

There was another camping trip, this one out in the wilderness of the National Forest, with no one around for miles. We were getting overrun by mice. We didn't know it until a few days later but someone had dumped some garbage near our site weeks earlier. It had become a mouse haven. We found HB's purple knitted gloves with the fingers chewed out. When we opened the engine compartment of the van, we found a little purple glove nest on top of the battery. The mice ran up and down our tent trailer in the night. The pitter-patter of little feet kept us up and aggravated. Grizzly was done.

He sat outside the next night with his shotgun in one hand and his night vision monocular in the other. Meanwhile, I laid on the bed with a three-year-old Wild Man, sound asleep, and a very excited Hannah Bo wearing her dad's gun muffs clamped on to her head. He would yell, "Ready?" and I, in my gun muffs with my hands pressed over Wild Man's ears, would yell back, "Go Ahead!" and we'd hear the roar of the shotgun's report. This happened about six times. Grizzly would watch for movement through the monocular and then blast away at the mice. It worked...uh...great.

The next morning it was evident that the world was now safe from folding chairs. They were shot to heck and were the only thing he hit. The mice rebuilt the nest on the battery the next day.

So we were primed, once again, to take on our latest forest nemesis. Grizzly would be armed in case things went terribly south but there would be no shooting. We just wanted to keep them from destroying our car and show them they couldn't bully their way in everywhere and damage property. It seemed like a humanitarian mission. We had pots and pans and noise makers. We would honk the horn and scream and yell.

Wild Man drifted off to sleep and the three of us hunkered down around the fire. The campground grew dark and quiet. It wasn't well populated because it was mid-week and off-season. A few fires could be seen in the distance but they slowly flickered out. Our conversations grew fewer and more hushed as the night crawled slowly into the wee morning hours. No signs. No sounds. Grizzly grew restless. He felt eyes boring into him but couldn't see anything. He decided to scout the perimeter and weave in and out of the trees. HB wanted to stretch and go with him. They grabbed the night vision monocular, with JoJo at their heel, and headed out.

I wasn't about to leave my son or the car so, with my .38 snuggled deep in my pocket, I pulled my parka in tighter, my hood up farther, and tucked down into my chair (one without shotgun pellet holes). And I waited. All that could be heard was the occasional pop or crackle of the campfire. At times I would hear or see my three bear hunters working their way through the trees. Eventually they would come back, wait for a bit, and then head out again. Grizzly was getting frustrated. There was just no sign. He absolutely knew the minute we hit the sack they would be at the van. I mentioned that mama could have easily treed herself and the babies and be watching them every time they passed underneath, and they would never know. That gave him a new mission: scouting out trees with the flashlight while he hunted.

The hours drug on and 5:00a.m. approached. We thought maybe we would see daylight before we turned in. Grizzly decided to make one last trip through the forest. Hannah Bo and JoJo set out with him. With my chin resting on my chest I fought sleep. My bones had turned to columns of ice and I wasn't sure I could move if the need presented itself. I found out I could.

Off in the far distance I saw the sweep of the flashlight and knew the posse was headed back for camp. At the same moment I noted a sound right behind my chair. My eyes shot open wide and the hair on my neck stood up. I froze. Was that just a little animal making its way through the underbrush? Don't panic. Then came a very heavy footfall an arms length from me. I screamed and jumped from my chair. By that time, Grizzly was within shouting distance up the road in front of me.

"It's okay!" he yelled. "It's just us!"

"No it's not!" I cried out.

Thunderous paws ran down the hill behind me as I turned to watch.

"She was right here! Right behind my chair!" I shrieked. And she vanished into the forest depths.

The breeze had been blowing gently toward me and she hadn't caught my scent. I was downwind. My dark green parka had blended in perfectly with the night. I have no doubt she never saw me. But the jig was up. We scared each other to death, equally.

Dawn was a short time away and we all crawled into our sleeping bags, exhausted. We were confident she wouldn't be back with so little darkness left. It would be long enough to give us a few hours of sleep. We drifted off finally, warm, snuggly, and dim-wittedly victorious.

I have no doubt there is a bear out there right now, with a blog, telling all her readers about how she almost ate a woman once instead of a Ding Dong.......because the description applied so perfectly to both.

Copyright 2009

Are You Following Me?

This is another shameless bid to encourage you to sign up to follow. The last attempt at begging was so successful I'm only 8 followers away from the contest for two $50 gift certificates to Amazon.com. (A BIG thank you to all of you who have already signed up!)

It's great to see my maps bringing you all in. Would you consider clicking on that little button above the group of photos on the right and joining our party? We're having a ball out here! Join the ranks! Make your voice heard!

A Bear Market - Part 2

I wasn't prepared for what I saw next.

The whole van was rockin' like a frat house on Friday night.

Two cubs were inside while the mama stood on her hind legs, face pressed to the window pointing out the items she wanted them to throw out to her. They had entered through the driver's side window but she was too big and fat to fit. I feel her pain. But you can never be too fat if you're a bear. They don't spend anytime feeling badly about themselves because they don't fit in windows. In fact, they do this thing called "hyper feeding." It happens as winter is coming on and they will eat as many as 20,000 calories a day in preparation for hybernation. I think I did that last time I went to Baskin Robbins. I don't think I hybernated but I'm pretty sure I lapsed into a coma for a few days.

Now, you may wonder, "Why in the world did you two idiot dingbats leave the window open on your car?" And you would be perfectly right in your succint inquiry. That's why I hang out with you.

Here's how that happened. Grizzly went to bed first, with the kids. He figured I'd make sure everything was secure for the night, being the mom and all. I was staying up for a bit to sit by the fire with the dogs and have quiet time. I figured he, being the man and all, would secure our perimeters before turning in. So naturally, neither one of us did anything. We frequently work well together like this.

We had heard there were some bears around and half the sites had lock boxes. Ours didn't. We were told to keep food out of sight. Not a problem. We always kept everything in camping boxes anyway. Just so you know for your own personal information: a camping container to a bear is like gift wrapping a box of See's candy. It just heightens the thrill anticipating the creamy center.

As we looked out the tent we could see the bears having a heydey in the van. One of the cubs had thrown a bottle of cooking oil out to mom and she had ripped off the the top half and poured its greasy goodness down her throat, over her face, and onto her paws. She then pressed that same big fat face up against the windows of the van, along with plate-sized paws, and left lovely pressed-art pictures of herself.

The ground was littered with crackers, chips, pop tarts, flour, butter, pancake mix, and syrup. All of the items were in various states of having been demolished or devoured. I must interject that we do not normally keep all this c-rap around our home and I am an organic cook most of the time. However, camping requires copious amounts of Death Food in Boxes. (Sounds like a good name for a band.)

Grizzly ran out into the freezing night yelling and clanging pot lids. Of course the guns could not be fired. This is California. Guns are just for looks in a campground. You can't shoot bears or discharge a weapon. If we had left the guns in the car then the bears could have legally shot us, sat in our chairs, smoked a cigarette (not that we had any but they travel with them), and slammed back a beer to wash down the Ding Dongs.

But we hadn't left the guns in the car so the master mind of the heist ditched the babies and took off into the trees. The cubs scrambled around inside the van hunting their escape hatch, the window, and then bailed out as fast as their bloated bodies would carry them. The dogs were now awake. Reluctantly. I know I keep saying dogs and have only mentioned JoJo. Our other dog du jour was Lassie. Now Lassie was a four pound chihuahua who never really belonged with our family. My persuasive aunt had talked us into keeping this walking snack food but chihuahuas are not exactly your great-outdoors camping types. She spent most of her time in the mountains shaking and praying for death to overtake her. (We have since rehomed her with my aunt where she is receiving therapy for post traumatic stress disorder.)

With the bears out of sight we lifted the back hatch and surveyed the damage. It looked like a bomb had gone off in a Walmart. Camping boxes were ripped in half (what the heck? All they had to do was lift the lid, for Pete's sake!). Same for the ice-chest. Top removed at the hinges and it wasn't even locked. Bloody meat packages lay with only hints of what they once contained. Flour was everywhere. Bear hair hung from the ceiling. Bear musk hung on the air. Puncture holes decorated the interior and my emergency brake, now flattened out, had reported for its last emergency.

We knew they were watching from the perimeter. It was three a.m. We didn't want our car destroyed. What would YOU do? I know what we did. We swept off a spot on the back seat, rolled up the windows, and called JoJo to lay there and do guard duty until the light of day. She would forever after be known affectionately as "Bear Bait." You've never seen a dog with bigger eyes than one who is about to be left by herself in a car that smells like a bear is sleeping in there with her. I'm not sure we made the right decision. JoJo is positive we didn't. But the car was safe. At least for the rest of that night.

We still had another night to go. We knew they'd be back. And they were. This time we would be waiting for them. So would Bear Bait.

To Be Continued........

Copyright 2009

Man Thwarts Robbers by Stealing Their Car...BUT...

Robbers break into man's home in Bellvue, Washington.

He hears them upstairs, from his basement, and escapes out the door.

Robbers already have his flatscreen tv, wife's jewelry box, and other items staged on the front porch to load in the car.

He sees their minivan, left running for a quick getaway, jumps in and drives to safety while thwarting their efforts.

While driving away he calls 9-1-1 and the operator, after laughing when he tells her, seriously advises him to stop driving their car as he could be charged with theft.

Here are the only options:

a. The 9-1-1 operator is desperately misinformed
b. The law that would make this true was written by someone smoking crack - regularly.
c. The operator is a complete idiot.

Under what circumstances do you find yourself successfully fleeing from perpetrators, saving your own life, foiling a crime-in-progress, and leading the police right to the vehicle used in said crime, yet find yourself on the wrong side of the law? Should he have returned the car to the thieves, apologized, and tied himself up? Maybe for good measure he could have helped them load the car and then beat himself about the head and neck so they wouldn't be injured if THEY did it.

If you should find yourself on the wrong end of a gun, do not try to disarm the bad guy or fight for yourself. That gun beLONGS to him, after all. You don't want to be charged with theft or battery.

This has to be one for the You've GOT to be KIDDING! files. Watch the video here http://www.king5.com/video/.

More bears later today!

And the Award Goes To...Update

Am I the only one who does completely hair-brained things on a daily basis? I fancy myself a halfway intelligent person but I regularly prove that to be untrue. Keeps me humble. I will never suffer from pride issues. My idiocy prevents it.

With that said, I have to add someone to my award list because I would have if I had rubbed my two brain cells together.

Joy at El Mundo de Mamacita has been someone I've followed for quite a while. I love what she stands for and how she tries to make the most of what is given to her and blesses her family. She has a heart of gold and recently even offered to pay for her readers to see the movie "Fireproof" if they couldn't afford it. She feels that strongly about encouraging healthy marriages. And she will teach you how to eat leftovers you would rather throw out. Okay, about that last part.......

And if you haven't had your belly laugh yet today, you HAVE to go over to Tatersmama and check out her most recent post. She says some things about me that should be refuted and even shows an unflattering video of me having a hissy fit. I bet you didn't know that I am actually a flipped-out asian woman but she seems to have the video to prove it. Well, sort of...watch it and you be the judge.

A Bear Market - Part 1

If a bear is in the forest and eats everything in your car, do your dogs hear it?

I'm thinking about that this morning after reading a post at From Single to Married in which she talks about her good watch dog. No one loves their dogs more than I love mine but, the reality is, JoJo is only incensed about people breathing or moving when she's wide awake. When she's asleep, all bets are off.

I once called Jojo to give her a hug goodnight. The rest of the inmates here at the asylum had already bunked down. No Jojo. I called again. Nothing. I searched from room to room and called outside, up and down the street. MIA. I shook the over-sized bed bugs out of their sheets and mounted a posse. I didn't want to panic alone. Flip flops were employed. Car engines started. Frantic hollering commenced. No Jo. In one final moment before complete bedlam prevailed, my son, the Wild Man, threw his covers around looking for his coat. There was Jo, tucked in, eyes rolled back in her head, sound asleep, and oblivious. She lifted heavy lids and peered out just long enough to say, "HeLLO. I was warm. Could you knock it off and put the blanket back?!"

It was just this type of edge-of-your-seat, sound-the-alarm guarding that allowed a mother bear, and her two cubs, to grocery shop in our car one night while we were camping.

I don't know about you but I think most moms sleep with one ear open from the minute the doctor says, "It's a girl! Or a boy!" Dads, on the other hand, tend to only wake up in the middle of the night when you, sleep deprived and weary from nursing the baby, roll over and latch that baby on to HIS chest. If you haven't tried this, you should.

Thus, my now normal sleep state is to hear dust collecting on the furniture. And when you are camping in the black of night, in the middle of the forest, and you hear a "thunk" in your sleep, even though neither of your two watch-less dogs perk up an ear, and your husband snores on in near comatose disregard, you trust your gut.

"Grizzly.....did you hear that?"

Now, I have to tell you that Grizzly may sleep like the dead but the moment there is an opportunity to use flashlights, guns, knives, bazookas, or inter-gallactic missiles, he is awake. Immediately. And armed.

"What'd you hear?!" he instantly interrogated.

"Well, I don't know but I just thought I heard a "thunk" outside, by the car," I stated cautiously as he seared my retinas with his flashlight. Now he was ripping open the zipper on the tent.

"Robynn, stay where you are," he ordered, staring through the door flap. "There are bears in the car." It would seem relevant, at this point, for you to know the dogs still weren't barking and were, in fact, snoring right beside the kids.

Now the statement, "There are bears in the car" is not a sentence I had ever considered forming or hearing. So I had never presupposed my response. I did, however, immediately know it did not include staying where I was. I don't tend to run away from things that scare me anyway; I run toward them because being scared just makes me spitting mad. And I had children to protect. And Cheetos. And Hostess Ding Dongs.

What I wasn't prepared for was what I saw next.......

To Be Continued......

Copyright 2009

And the Award Goes To......

I am so tardy posting my awards I seem ungrateful. Truly, I am not. I am lufetargnu. That's so opposite of ungrateful it's backwards. I'm just a little uncomfortable with awards. I love giving them, especially to the kind of people I hang out with here, but posting them feels more awkward to me.

But here they are.....

I'm still so new out here and just starting my third month orbiting around in cyberspace. Shouldn't I do more time in the trenches? Shouldn't you grill me more? Put me through my paces? Wait to see if I dry up and go away? Hope I go away if I dry up?

Well, I guess not, since you're comin' around an encouraging me all the time. And I can't tell you how much it has meant to me. My life has broadened and deepened because of you all. I have a happier spring in my step and a lighter heart. I like to write...you like to read it....you like to write.....I like to read it......and I think to myself......what a wonderful world! Thank you for embracing me so warmly.

And now.....

I have received these awards from several sources. The Lemonade Stand came from Libby at NeasNuttiness, Katie at Tatersmama, Homestay Mama at Home to the World, Frugal Maven at Hip & Stingy and, quite awhile back, from someone else that, for the life of me, I can't recall. Please forgive my overcrowded, cluttered mind. I put your name somewhere in here and it's probably buried under my mental laundry. I really must neaten things up in here one of these days. That'll teach me to procrastinate.

The "I Love Your Blog" award also came from LIbby and Katie.

Now, I know lots of you have received these awards. But I may give them to you again because I can't help it if I admire your attitude and love your blog. If you have received them before, don't feel obligated to pass them on again. Just know that I couldn't help myself. I'm going to give them together because I don't follow your blog unless I love it so, it would figure they would come as a pair.

1. The Mosquitoes Buzz. I can't even remember how I found her but this is proof that less can be more. She keeps it simple and beautiful. I feel as if we know each other in real life. I go there for honesty and "ahhhh" moments.

2. The Treehouse Chef at Treehouse Kitchen. I count on her to feed us. I just made her pecan pie and would advise you not to because your thighs will never be the same. It was incredible. She is another one who makes me feel all warm and cozy. If her house were any more snuggly and yummy smelling I'd just have to buy a plane ticket and head on over for a retreat. And she could cook for me the whole time. Doesn't that just sound delightful? For me? (Okay, I hear her barring the door right now.)

3. Homestay Mama at Home to the World. I want a mama like her only she's too young to be my mama. She's wise and caring and sacrificing and filled with spiritual wisdom; the best kind. She has a gift of encouragement and uses it on me, frequently. I am better for knowing her. MANY are better for knowing her.

4. Katie at Tatersmama. This woman is incredibly giving, loving, funny, straight-up, deep, and selfless. She is a true "Velveteen Rabbit" and has been made real by having a great deal of her fur rubbed off by life. I am also incredulous for her that she cannot get Crisco, pecans, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, and Dr. Pepper in the Land Down Under. They should fix all of this just for her. Australia imported her from California. You would think they would treat her better for all she does there. Katie, I think about coming to visit you and when I do, I always pack my suitcases with these items and have imaginary, but satisfying, fights with Customs.

5. Libby at Neas Nuttiness. Libby was the first to promote me to her friends and send them over when I hardly knew what a "Follower" was. She put up a link to me and made me sound like the next in line for a Pulitzer. She is witty, warm, and always leaves funny or encouraging comments. And she's faithful to her friends out here.......even blogs when she's all drugged up after surgery. YOU go over to her place and see if YOU can make sense of the post about all the plastic pooches. It's okay, Libby. Go back to sleep.

6. Reginia at Tetertots. Reg and I have been hangin' out together for several years. We have the same fire in our bellies. (Her belly is a lot flatter and cuter than mine, though.) We both like to see justice done and dislike bullies. But she's so much sweeter in the way she goes about achieving this. She has finesse. And graciousness. She has also opened her heart and home to a lovely teenage girl and has incorporated her as her own. She wouldn't think that's a big deal. That's how she rolls.

7. Neabear Is anyone sweeter than Linnea? She always leaves the nicest comments and has so much fun with all her buddies. She participates in everything and has a great time with all she does. Her photos make you feel like you're right in her home. I have no doubt her friends and family are blessed by her on a regular basis. And she plays the organ. Who can do THAT anymore?

7a. Frugal Maven at Hip & Stingy. You will love her. She's short (the posts, not her, I mean, I don't really know but short is good, and tall is good, too.....this is irrelevant....I will edit it.....probably not....unlike her I do not often embrace brevity) and to the point, she is just filled with variety. I still haven't embraced the "making your own laundry detergent" thing but I am in awe that she has and does. Lots of good tips and she lives in an old church. Go LOOK!

7b. Linda at Another Piece of the Pie. Linda makes me laugh with her wry humor and practical view of the world. I mean, she bought her husband a toilet seat for Valentine's Day. Need I say more? She's a good cook and shares her recipes, we both drink raw milk, and we homeschool our kids. And both our husbands are in love with their espresso machines. We have "grounds" for a friendship.

7c. Ladybird World Mother. She comes to us from England and if her wit got any sharper and more pointed it would never be allowed on the flight over here. Again, can't remember how I found her but I'm glad I did. She gives me lots of "giggles," as she calls them, and keeps me smiling with her British vernacular. She's an incredibly keen observer of life and mines it to great effect.

7d. Becky at Becky and Her Babies. This woman posts some of the funniest jokes I have ever read, and that's saying something in cyberspace. I get the kids running in here to find out why I am laughing my posterior off. Most of the time I can tell them. She's also a great friend to Libby and I always admire great friends.

7e. High Desert Diva. Oh my. She is my required daily dose of beauty and inspiration. As an interior designer, her colors are vibrant and inspiring. She also passes along beautiful sayings or prose. Very regenerative for the spirit. Haven't gone a day without her since I found her. And she always has interesting "asides" or tidbits. A little something for everyone. She doesn't know it yet so, don't mention it, but when I go through Oregon this summer, I'll be staying with her for a few days. Let the preparations begin.

7f. Gizzards & Calf Fries. She keeps me entertained in pictures and witty brevity. Again, nothing I can achieve but, that's the beauty of it. I love dropping in everyday to see mud and horses and holes in the barn roof. She's a busy gal but always takes the time to post a comment and frequently cracks me up. I follow her around just to read her comments on other posts.

7g. NaomiG at Diaries of the Happy Sanitarium. This is my little family. I mean, they don't REALLY belong to me. I just met them out here. But she is such a good mama and does fun things with the kiddos and well, if I had a kid sister, she would be it. And I would be the auntie who spoiled the girls and sent them home rotten. Just love her down home goodness and always feel better for having dropped by.

7h. Life on a Southern Farm. Just down-home goodness. Simple. Warm. Feel-good photos of all her little farm friends. Miracle Eve the goat who is 2/3rds Farmer John Ham. Sweet fun. Faithful commenter and encourager.

7i. From Single to Married A gentle and tender look at just starting out and planning a family. She likes to ask her readers questions and have them participate. And she even sends private, encouraging emails. But she isn't afraid to talk about those really inconvenient issues of life...like IBS...and she knows where all the best toilets are.

7j. A Cowboy's Wife. She's been out of commission for awhile but I hope she's back at it soon. The woman can write. And she can tell it like it is. And if you don't like it, well, you can get over it. Boy, I LOVE that. She's as real as they come and she hasn't only had a hard row to hoe, she hasn't even had a hoe a lot of the times. I think she may have done a lot of plowing with her bare hands.

8. And finally, On a Quirky Quest with Lady Fi. She is a British ex-pat who is now living happily in Sweden with her husband. I love her for her cooking......(shhhhh, yeah RIGHT)....especially the yogurt with ketchup she had us all try for Valentine's Day. She's a great writer, fun to follow, and a constant source of humor and encouragement.

So, there you have it. I stuck to the rules of only nominating eight. You can see that by the numbers.

Now, for all you award winners who HAVEN'T already done this, here are the rules:

1. Put the logo on your blog or post. 2. Nominate at least 8 blogs which show great attitude and/or gratitude. 3. Link to your nominees within your post. 4. Let them know that they have received this award by commenting on their blog. 5. Share the love and link to this post and to the person from whom you received your award.

Happy Valentine's Day My Friends

Love makes your soul crawl out from its hiding place. ~Zora Neale Hurston

The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved - loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves. ~Victor Hugo

A Valentine for You.......

To all my dear friends who have shown me much kindness and love. I pray you receive as many blessings as you have extended. If you do, I know you'll have a rich and lovely Valentine's Day.

1 Corinthians 13:13 "And now these three remain: faith, hope, and love, and the greatest of these is love."

Turning 50

Hey there......come here often?

Like me? Tolerate me? I'm like a car wreck and you just can't help looking?

Would you help me hit 50 followers today? I'm trying to get to 75 and when I do I'm rockin' a fun contest. Maybe you'll be the winner. Send your friends over. I'll be giving away two $50.00 gift cards to Amazon.com and I'll choose from among the followers. Help me help you. Please let me know you're out there and click on the button right above the group of pictures. Just takes a sec! I already love you. Let's make it official.

The Other Woman

My husband is in love. I'm not sure I stand a chance.

We've been down this road before....with Debbie.

Now it's Sylvia.

He was busted about Debbie by my daughter, when she was seven. She had overheard him talking about her, asking for her, even linking her name with Christmas. She told me she wanted to "out" him. I gave her the green light. What can I say? I'm a terrible mother. We planned it all out. My three-year-old son wanted in. We didn't think he could hang on to the information but he did. We thought we would hit husband/daddy while he was vulnerable. Right after church. We all tucked in to the minivan and, with the kids firmly buckled in the backseat, we heard a tremulous little voice.

"Daddy?" daughter said.

"Yes honey?" he replied, smoothly.

"I found out you have....a....a.....girlfriend." This was killing me. You could hear the emotion in her voice. Should I let this go on?

"I DO?" He tried to sound surprised. Cool. Cool as a cucumber.

"Yes," she quavered. "And I know her name."

"You DO?" Oh, he's just filled with snappy rejoinders under pressure.

"Yes, I do." She was hitting her stride and spoke with feeling, but also resolve. "Her name is Debbie. "Little" Debbie!

Hysterical laughter from the junior sector, which included me. The cad. Even he cracked up.

He passed this horrifying addiction on to our son who, to this day, cannot pass a Little Debbie Snack Cake without pining and begging for her plastic-texture-artery-hardening goodness. At least Grizzly Adams got over his attraction when he matured, last year. But only because she was replaced in his affections by someone more worldly, mature, exotic: Sylvia.

You think I'm going to tell you something cutesy again like he's in love with his car (though there is undying passion between him and the Jeep), or dog, or lawnmower. Huh. I wish he was in love with that lawnmower. How I long for true romance to spring up between them. Oh no. Too Terra Firma for Romeo, too mundane.

Sylvia is the new woman. She inspires him. He buys her presents. Well, truth be told he actually makes ME buy her presents that he has carefully thought out. Flavorful presents. He pets her, coddles her, attends to her every hygienic need. When he travels he longs for her. He has even been known to sneak her into hotel rooms. And to think I bankrolled this passion for our 20th anniversary. I gave him money I'd been squirrelling away for a couple of years. Here's what he did with it:

And "Rancilio" is just her last name. The company actually gives the different "models" (need I say more?) these special names.

Hey, at least she makes my coffee, too. Oh my gosh! Did I just say coffee? That's a bad word that must never be uttered in Sylvia's presence. She does NOT make coffee. Ever. She makes ESPRESSO. Her espressos can facilitate an Americano which, to the untrained palate, might TASTE like coffee. Oh sure. Just like Gallo Box Wine can taste like Dom Perignon.

She also makes cappucinos, macchiatos, and la-tee-dahs, as Grizzly calls them. He doesn't really drink those. He's an espresso/Americano man. Puts hair on your chest. And your back.

He shopped very carefully for her.....months, in fact, and settled on her because he thought she was a good value while providing extremely high-quality performance and endurance. And her parts are replaceable if they go bad. He still wonders why he didn't look for these features when choosing a wife.

But I must say she pulls her weight. Grizzly was a two-Starbucks a day man, and I dropped in there a couple of times a week. Do you know how that adds up? Well, of course you do. Most of us could have vacation homes and facelifts if it wasn't for Starbucks. Six months into this relationship Sylvia paid for herself and started making us money. So, as sister-wives go, I really can't complain. And there is something to be said for that concept. Solomon might have been on to something. Can you imagine all the writing I could get done with someone else to run the errands and clean the house? Heck, every Christmas when he asks me what I want I always request a wife. I guess Sylvia's it. She's kind of square and cold, with a hard edge to her, but her soul is stainless.

As long as she doesn't expect the same of me, we'll get along.

Life on the Farm Ain't Kinda Laid Back

Well, life on the farm is kinda laid back,

Ain't much an ol' country boy like me can't hack,

It's early to rise, early in the sack,

Thank God I'm a country boy.

Well, a simple kinda life never did me no harm,

A raisin' me a family and working on the farm,

My days are all filled with an easy country charm,

Thank God I'm a country boy.

When John Denver penned these now famous words to his song "Country Boy" he had, apparently, never spent time out at my mother's place.

She and my step-father live in the country. They moved there when they married. I was nineteen and on my own for years. This was their exclusive hideaway. They intended it to be just the two of them and a variety of animals for food and companionship. And they achieved their goal. It just wasn't exactly from the pages of "Country Living" magazine.

I started thinking about it when I saw two dead opossums on the road this morning. 'Possums and city life don't mix well but two is a lot in one day. I wondered if they were escaping my mom's place.

Critters come and critters go and my mother has never been incredibly sentimental about separation. In the fifteen years I lived at home we moved fourteen times. Animals came and went as the wind blew. If they were a problem, they were gone. If we couldn't have them at the next place, they moved on and so did we. She was well suited for the life-and-death decision making that sometimes comes with country life.

It served her well.......I guess.

One country-charming, pastoral day, she awoke to find a coyote had broken in to the hen house. Feathers and squawking chickens were fluttering everywhere. One old girl had gotten the worst of it and the outlook was decidedly Colonel Sanders, if you know what I mean. Mom grabbed her up and, with the expertise of a washer woman, wrung her neck and dispatched her to that big frying pan in the sky. Round One.

Several hours later one of the ducks was looking decidedly dejected. She moped and laid and leaned. Mom was resolved that the suffering could not continue and the most likely issue was an impacted egg. With shovel in hand, her make-shift guillotine forever separated Ducky's mind from her problem, so to speak. My mother proceeded to perform an autopsy. Yep. Egg impaction. Round Two.

As the evening wore on, she and my step-dad turned in for the night. They were awoken by a beastly ruckus in the backyard. The dogs had cornered a 'possum and had gone completely hoodlum with it, bullying it and tossing it to and fro. By the time my mother showed up, well, the grim reaper even paid attention and started taking notes. She felt a .22 would make the quickest work of it but it was the middle of the night and that might alarm the neighbors. She surveyed the yard for options and landed on it: a barbeque skewer. I'll spare you the details but suffice it to say, chicken-neck-wringing and duck-head-detachment are practically children's bedtime stories in comparison. At least the poor thing was long gone when she went back to bed and left it for the dogs. Round three.

All I have to say is this: Whenever I'm not feeling well, I steer far clear of my mother's place. I'd advise you to do the same.

Copyright 2009

Australian Wild Fires

Australian Wild Fires - Requesting Prayer

For any of you visiting my site for very long, you may have seen a blog on my sidebar by "Tatersmama." She is a transplanted Californian living in Australia and is surrounded by news of suffering and death right now. She is not directly affected by the fire itself (meaning the flames are not on top of her but they aren't very far away), and there is some involvement, she says, which she will post about when she can. We will just have to wait and see.

There have been so many deaths (update: 180+ as of Wednesday) and injuries. Whole towns have been wiped out. People trying to flee in their cars have been unable to outrun it at times. One survivor, recounting his experience last night on the Weather Channel News, described it as "raining fire." The horror and swiftness of this inferno is almost too much to comprehend. You can read one of the latest stories here.

We are keeping them, and Tatersmama, in our prayers and just asking those of you who would, to do the same. So many are suffering. I don't feel I can post about anything else right now but will resume my regular post tomorrow.

Thank you all for caring and I'm sure Tatersmama would appreciate any words of encouragement you would want to send her way. She is an incredible woman. She wouldn't want me to say so but it is true. Her daily life includes caring for autistic and developmentally disabled children in her home. Additionally, she has contacted the Red Cross to see if she can offer shelter to victims of the fire. We are grateful for you TM. You don't talk about compassion and caring, you live it. Our prayers are with you.

With Love,

Robynn

News of the Day and Tidying Up

Dognap Alert:

I have been beseeched by Libby, at Neas Nuttiness, to help bring home her pooch. It would seem his little plastic canine self has been dognapped! To frighten the criminals with fiercesome threats go to: http://www.cliffdevries.blogspot.com/

There, you will see photos of poor Percy and his perils. And you'll be able to leave a message on behalf of his release and Lib's request that they also recompense her with bagels and cheesecake. Really, it's the least they can do.

And this just in.........

I visited Humor Bloggers, a small little group, and decided to try and join. I have been rejected. Apparently, I am not funny when compared to their scintillating wit. I encourage you to go here http://www.humorbloggers.com/ to decide whether I should be dejected or delighted. Then please advise and I will emote accordingly.

Lastly........

Please check out the new button to your right - 5 Minutes for Giveaways - to give you an opportunity to enter great contests. I do not make anything for your clicks but I thought it was such a fun idea to have this quick link. Enjoy the rest of your weekend!

Observational Twitter 10

Esoteric:

"The pen is mightier than the sword." Edward Bulwer-Lytton

Exoteric:

"Were the pen mightier than the sword 'Pirates of the Caribbean' would have been a very different movie."

Jack Sparrow: "See here, Barbossa! I'm going to write something unkind about you on the gang plank!"

Captain Barbossa: "You worm, hold fast! I shall poke you in the eyeball with my pen!"


Copyright 2009

Sleep Survival and Angels of Mercy

Meet the Wild Man on a Normal Day

Must look Confident and Serious

Show them you have Teeth, my son, so they know we've left our Ditchbank Trailer Days behind

Dear Deborah - our Lovely Angel of Mercy

Frankenstein preparing for the Launch of the Space Shuttle
(notice the ratty pillow which has lost it's covering and the tag still attached so as to prevent risk of arrest if ever removed)


Wild Man is in survival mode and loving the challenge. Only the strong overcome. (And does this kid rock, or what, for letting me take and post this picture. I owe him now.)

And though you may find it hard to believe, I may have overstated my potential sufferings at the sleep clinic.

While I wouldn't recommend this as a hotel, I have certainly slept far worse places. My hospital informants who contacted me knew not of what they spoke concerning my sleeping accommodations. My bed was, in fact, the very type I slept on when my son was three. It was a chair that folds completely flat. You wouldn't have any desire to purchase it from an infomercial, but it beat an airline seat on a red-eye flight, all to heck.

I slept. My son slept. Our technician, Deborah, couldn't have been nicer and more helpful. She chatted comfortably with us and was incredibly knowledgeable. I did a little clock watching and following of my son's monitor through the night. Fascinating to see your precious child drawing peaceful breaths and observe what is happening in his body. And yes, he has sleep issues. Has to see an Ear, Nose, and Throat specialist about those overly large tonsils (forgot to put that in the singles ad - had mine out when I was 25).

We both fell into deep sleep around 5a.m. - when they were supposed to kick us out - but Deborah, our angel, took mercy on us and let us sleep until 6:30. We walked out to a beautifully rainy day. The StonePowellReillys love weather. Must be our English/Scottish/Irish roots. Ah! thunder just now! And POURING rain!! Gotta go....the tradition is porch swing, hot chocolate, and stories on rainy/thunder days and I must heed the call! Thank you for all the prayers. They were answered!

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream (Bill Shakespeare)

Tonight my son and I will sleep (yeah, right) at a sleep clinic in a children's hospital. My sleep talking, sleep walking, shower taking while asleep, thrasher, turner, midnight oil burner, wake up exhausted son.

He takes after me. We don't "do" sleep easily. It's something we chase and it is not readily caught. Once we've got it pinned to the ground we duke it out and thrash around uneasily. We tend toward sleep apnea on my side. And we have both types: obstructive (low palette, fat tongue - would make a great singles ad) and central (brain doesn't show up for work and tell you to breathe). Grizzly Adam's side gets restless legs. Our poor son dove head first into the shallow end of the gene pool.

So tonight, naturally, he will not exhibit any of those aforementioned behaviors because they will be watching. And we all know how that goes. He'll have the best sleep of his life.

Not I. I am being relegated to a chair in his room. He will sleep lying down and I, presumably, will sleep lying up. And why I must be right there, every moment, in the room while he's sleeping, I have no idea. Don't get me wrong. I'm all for staying with your kids for just about everything. Hey, I HOMEschool for Pete's sake. But when he was three, and in the same hospital, they told me I could go home and they would take care of him. Of course, I didn't go home. I slept in a chair that laid down. But now that he's 13, I have to stay with him in the full-and-upright-airplane-crash-death-defying position?

Well, that's just the way it is. He and I have pulled our share of all-nighters. What mother hasn't? I'm just spoiled because I thought when I weaned him we would now sleep through the night. And we did. Five years later.

So here we go toward another "Night of the Living Dead." Maybe I'll try to find a shower, like my son, and go lay down on the floor of it and sleep. When some tired, naked janitor steps in and turns on the cold water to wake himself up, I'll know it's time to go home, or go blind.

Copyright 2009

Follow the Yellow Brick Road (or me!)

I have watched Feedjit bringing in some of the most fascinating places and people. I am truly grateful. If I keep posting things that entertain or interest you, may I ask a favor? Would you consider signing up to follow? Even if you're not one to leave comments, and not everyone is, you can let me know you're hangin' out with me by following. It would be MUCH appreciated. It's not hard. Just look to your right and you will see an option "Follow This Blog" above the little group of photos. It just takes a minute. The more followers I have the greater visibility it gives me and helps me to get my work out there.

Thank you for dropping in and for caring. And for all of those already following? A very sincere THANK YOU!! It means so much.

I hope to repay you through a contest or two. If I can hit 75 followers I will have a rockin' contest that'll be worth your while! You all are the BEST!

With Love,

Robynn

Punxsutawney Phil and Gopher Guts

Don't you just hate those days when a gopher has a death grip on your shoe and you can't launch him off no matter what?

I am thinking of gophers today since it's Groundhog Day and Punxsutawney Phil saw his shadow, officially sentencing us to more cold weather. I'm in California. If it gets any colder in Los Angeles it'll be summer. Winter never fully arrived in some parts of our state. If you're in London, what with the blizzard and all today, you probably think Phil is a bloody genius and wish we would swap him to you for Madonna. Frankly, I think we should leave things as they are. I don't know what you ever did to deserve Madonna but hey, she's yours to keep. She says she wants to go back to New York now that she's gutted Guy Ritchie. If I was NYC I'd hang out the "No Vacancy" sign.

But speaking of things you don't want, I'm glad our gophers aren't as big as Punxsutawney Phil. Your leg could get a cramp trying to shake them off. It was hard enough trying to dislodge an average sized rodent.

When our house was being built every gopher in the neighborhood waged war with the encroaching humans. The gophers were tough and big and carried small semi-automatic weapons. One afternoon, we pulled up to our house to check the progress and the Godfather met us at the curb. He stood up and stuck his chest out. Grizzly Adams, my husband, yelled and stamped his foot in a show of brutal authority. The gopher clutched his heart and staggered, fell down laughing, then leapt to his feet, possessed-red-eyes flashing, and buried his Bucky-the-Beaver incisors into the toe of Grizzly's sneaker.

My husband is no Jackie Chan but he's got pretty sophisticated ninja moves when vermin are attached to his lower extremities. He whirled and kicked and jerked and whacked and sprinted down the curb, still sporting two long teeth and a pair of beady eyes, and that wasn't even counting the gopher. I very helpfully ran along yelling, "Get him off! Get him off your shoe! Kick him! Fling him!" These helpful utterances offered him valuable insights that might not have occured to him otherwise. But it didn't matter. When the rubber hit the road, it did so with the thud of vibrating gopher flesh and there was no sign of retreat.

As I looked around wildly for a stick or missle launcher, Grizzly gave one last massive kick. I watched our miniature nemisis sail through the air as though shot from a cannon. With a final show of dominance he stuck the landing and dusted himself off, glaring down the road at us. I always hoped he was the one my cat laid at my feet several years later.

Kitty Baby made it her life's mission to divest the neighborhood of this evil element. She relished her job. It wasn't enough to merely kill the things. She felt if you could not enjoy your work there was no point doing it. She frequently showed up in the backyard circus playing "Flying Trapeeze," in which she would throw the gopher and then fail to catch it on the other side. This provided hours and hours of great cat fun. When she grew bored, she would skin them and lay them out on the front porch for the rest of the rodent clan to view. In her spare time she made jaunty little hats for herself out of the leather.

I like to think she was avenging me from a childhood attack.

When I was seven I walked to second grade by myself everyday. It was about two miles and that was a lot of time to think up hair-brained ideas like how great it would be to catch a gopher in a paper bag. The thought first occured to me when I spotted a furry brown thing scooting along the ground one day. It was my foregone conclusion, as it was when I saw any animal, that it was lost, desperately lonely, and would undoubtedly die but for my timely intervention. And then there were the show-and-tell possibilities. No one ever pulled a wild rodent out of a sack. I was sure to be popular.

The next day, with brown lunch bag firmly in hand, I set out for school hoping my gopher rescue would go off without a hitch. As soon as I spotted him I dumped my lunch and closed in. He saw me and sat up. I lifted the bag for rapid capture. I was successful except for the fact that I had caught him by the teeth with the fatty part of my ring finger. He was firmly attached. I screamed bloody murder and ran like my tail was on fire. He wasn't the least intimidated. I shook my hand, my arm, the earth on which I stood. We were one.

I think he gave up when I entered the third grade.

Supposedly I never contracted rabies. But I have raged around and foamed at the mouth a few times to the point that the shed and being shot have been mentioned in my actual presence.

Which reminds me of the time I had a feral cat plastered to my head via teeth and claws and actually did get rabies shots. But that's a story for Halloween when my booster is due.


Copyright 2009

What?? The Steelers??

Oh MAN. But the party was fun! That's it. Brevity. You probably won't get it again.