The International Club has been booted. Kicked out. 86'd. Can you believe it? What fine drinking establishment wouldn't want the International Club as patrons once a week? We travel the globe, find ourselves in the great Northwest and have no place to socialize together? Ce n'est pas possible.
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She accepts a Sunday of torture as just part of the deal. We skipped our usual Sunday morning pancake routine–I felt like having fruit instead, seeing as it's now actually summer here. So, no yummy Bisquik treat for her today. And that's just for starters.
Next, I trimmed her nails. Bye-bye tap shoes.
Then, I gave her a bath. Hello soap.
Then, I gave her a wicked good brushing with the evil wire brush. Ouch.
Lastly, I neglected to take her to the dog park tonight. Mean Mommie.
And where is she now? Sitting at my feet, her chin on my leg, tail stump wagging. Waiting patiently for a bedtime cuddle. Now that's devotion (and a bit of stupidity). -
I neglected to thoroughly wash my hands between tooth-brushing and contact-solutioning this morning. Minty fresh eyeball.
This is also the same toothpaste that turns the whole of my mouth black when used after drinking red wine. Next time, no falling for the two-for-one deal. -
Mom and Bert on Tishie Mae I, last fall
Mom and Bert, in trouble with the Italian law! Bert took the tender too close to the beach, unknowingly, and was apprehended by "gorgeous Italian coast guard men in white uniforms, you should have seen them!". Escorted ashore by no less than eight of these water police, Mom, as owner of Tishie Mae II, was held responsible. Bert was released into HER custody! ha!
American courtesy saved the day—the Italian coast guard officers were so surprised by their cooperation and politeness that they issued only one small ticket (Bert was also 'paperless', quite an offense in a country so engaged in beaurocracy) and even apologized for having to do it.
The topper of the story? On the form, of course there's a form, there was a line specifically for "Excuse". The officer insisted Bert offer an excuse. Bert's response? "Stupid American"!
Bert, released in Mom's guardianship, has some sucking up to do! They're on the way further down the coast later this week, headed for a bay near Rome so they can do an inland excursion into the city. More updates to come, and hopefully, some photos too. -
I sent my sister Margaret a box of goodies a few weeks back, mostly crocheted goods; one for her upcoming birthday and many crocheted goods for her little Stella. In her kind thank you note, she says "I don't know how you find the time!".
Oh, lord if she only knew. I have more time to spend on crochet than any under-60 person should be allowed to have. That's the one benefit of living somewhere you really rather wouldn't. -
Strange things Ruby licks with intensity but for no obvious reason: her stuffed snake, the headboard, the corner of the wall, the balcony railing, the kitchen rug (well, the reason for that is obvious), the magazine stack (she favors the New Yorker), the corner of the coffee table, and the curtains.
I could understand one or two little licks, but she does this for ages at a time. I have no explaination. My dog is a freak. -
This morning I saw a loofah on the pavement.
Things I've seen on the sidewalk, gutter or side yard immediately surrounding my building include wet boxer shorts on a dry day, a dead rat, vaste quantities of broken glass, one running shoe, and no less than three abandoned sofas. -
Peg, Ryan and baby Stella are safe and sound.
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These gifts have officially been given, so full views now available. Both are made with crochet thread, which I now adore–it's so smooth and easy to work with. And both are for little Stella. -
My favorite part of a weekday off? Mid-afternoon, back-to-back episopes of Perry Mason, the best tv show ever.
