Is this really necessary?? I am so peeing in your bed as soon as I get out of here. Not kidding. NOT SORRY.
All she wanted was a romp in the pond
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Oh look! Something furry!! Articles
Gardening for carnivores
So hey, since moving down here to the south I've become a passable vegetable gardener. (I don't know if it's so much due to the move as that the longer growing season is a lot more forgiving, and also I have a fenced area here to keep the deer from eating everything we grow.) Each year around Easter I trot out the wheelbarrow and various tools and dig the weeds out of my boxes and start planning what we'll plant this year. I'd love to tell you each year has layered precious knowledge on top of what came before, and now---five years into my clueless time of gardening-with-Google---I'm an...
Strolling through nature’s beauty
It's been a long, cold, lonely winter (in all senses both literal and metaphorical). The arrival of spring has us all but dancing around with cartoon wildlife. Never has a return to normal life and pleasant temperatures been more highly anticipated than this year, I'm thinking. And never has there been a happier canine than one Spoiled Rotten Licorice, who is reaping the benefits of our spring-drunkeness in spades. The nice thing about a tiny little mutt like her---12 pounds of terror, man---is that she doesn't HAVE to have a daily walk. She's not an insane breed whose brain goes berserk...
Things which are scary
When I was about Chickie's age, I was busy chewing my way through everything Stephen King ever wrote. The freakier and scarier, the better. This came up when I tried to convince Otto to watch Bates Motel with me the other night; he's not so much a fan of a series that is fairly unapologetic about the amount of blood and gore, whereas I love it. I found myself explaining that---for me---there is catharsis in stories filled with terror. I get to experience all the fear/loathing/panic my body can handle WITHOUT having to relate it to my own particular life, and afterward, somehow my brain goes,...
Minutiae for your Monday
I have a variety of not-long-enough-to-be-a-complete-post stories which are either 1) still interesting enough for sharing or 2) mind-numbingly dull but I don't realize that and insist you must know, and therefore that shall result in this, a disjointed mishmash of unrelated things all in one place. It's just like my junk drawer! Only with more words and fewer pen caps!! (Moral of this story: If you need a paperclip and a button, I'm your gal.) There's a slight twinge of remorse here that I don't have a more exciting life or whatever, but on the other hand, I got up this morning and brought...
Weekend fun
And here we understand "weekend fun" to be synonymous with "dog torture." Licorice really, really, REALLY wants a walk from woulda on Vimeo.
Licorice declares it best Christmas ever
Q: Mir, are you totally phoning it on your blog while you soak up the good moments with your girl and weather the rest of the emotional storm that is a still-not-entirely-well kid with a wicked case of homesickness who isn't dealing well with the fact that she has to leave again in a few days? A: Yes. Yes, I am. Sorry (I'm not sorry). Oh, look, it's a very happy doggie on Christmas morning: And this is what I just found while packing up the Christmas stuff: Moral of the story: Sometimes love hurts.
NOT how we’re ending this stupid year
Praise the lord and pass the libation of your choosing; this awful, awful year is almost over. As Monkey might say: DANCING TIME! Just a couple more weeks and change. And then we can kick 2012 in the rear and everything will be better. AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAA. (Who, me? Hysterical laughter? I don't know what you're... oh, shut up. I'm entitled to a little hysteria these days. The logical part of my brain knows that flipping over the calendar isn't necessary going to lift the Curse of 2012 from Casa Mir, but you just hush up and let me have my fantasy, mmmkay?) I can see the finish line. I...
Poor little daft princess
Licorice is having kind of a tough week. First there was the long holiday weekend, which meant people were home all the time---YAY!---and then strangers were here---BOO! Except FOOD! YAYYY!---and then people were home but the doorbell was ringing a lot. We'll never know what Licorice's life was like before she came to us, but I strongly believe at some earlier point in her development, every time the doorbell chimed, someone kicked this sweet little pup in the face. It's the only explanation I can think of that justifies the way she loses her ever-lovin' mind whenever someone comes to the...