May, I be done with you

If you came by here early this morning, you would have found this exact photo, but with a whole different post attached to it.  Criminy, I wrote this entire post and realized, hours later, that I wrote the same darn thing last week.  I think I'm losing it.

May is killing me. Like Hobbes, my butt is here, but the rest of me......well.....it's sorta just hanging on by a thread. 

I am never so glad to see a month go away as I am with May.  Even February and March, with all the snow and ice, isn't as bad.  May is just busy. Very, very busy.

And it takes all my money.

So, I'd like to say a fond farewell to you, May.  While I love the dress you wear, you are a mutha' when it comes to living with you on a daily basis. 

I'm hoping June finds me some time to breathe......and some money to pay for May's damages.

Some call it "Quality Time." Whatever.

This is what I love about living in Chicago:

The city scape...

the lake front....

and lots of green space with grass, trees, and flowers.

With no great plans this weekend, we headed down there with a picnic lunch and good company.  It was nice to be just the four of us again, hanging out, driving each other nuts for the day. 

It's funny how time flies most of the time, but then there are those moments where it just sort of sits still for the day--in a good way.  We sat there for only a few hours, but it felt like a long time--just chillin', laughing at the oddballs passing by, watching the boaters head out onto the lake and being a family again.

At one point, Joe said "You know, it's not gonna be like this too often anymore.  You guys are gonna be off at school and jobs and we won't be together like this," and we were all very quiet in our thoughts.

Well, until Colin said "Yeah, thank God."  He was kidding, of course, but we get it. It's tough to come home from college and be surrounded by your family in a wee abode.  It gets tight here....for all of us.  Maintaining your sense of humor is the only way to survive.

It's nice to know that we are a perfectly normal family--with parents who drive their kids crazy and vice versa.   We try, you know. I just hope we get points for that.

Is it Monday? or Tuesday?

Commence recovery mode from the weekend.  It kicked off with a great BBQ at a friend's, then promptly moved onto house projects, a day at the lakefront, and an introduction to my cousin's new baby.  I still haven't figured out what that official relation is, so I just called myself Aunt Lin and she seemed to think that was fine, so we are gonna stick with that. Babies are so easy to please, aren't they?

Now I have to go back to work and I don't really want to.  sigh. Yea, me.

As I ease into the week, I'm posting this video that I found over the weekend.  Love, love, love the two kids and it reminds me of all the drama from my old driving carpool days. 




Damn, now I've got that song running through my brain all day...

Yea, Veteran's!

I am faced with all sorts of folks asking for money on the streets of Chicago. You've got your bums, "No money--I'm hungry" guys, basketball teams, cheerleaders, firefighters, and church groups all weaving between the cars at stoplights shaking their cans or what-have-yous at your face, wanting you to donate to their cause. 

I just roll my window up and crank the radio. 

The other day, on our way to work, I spied a veteran out there, asking for cash and handing out poppies.  Col's mouth dropped open as I waved the dude over and handed him a $5.

"You NEVER do that" he says, surprised.

"Nope.  Only for the veterans," I say.  "and George."

George was our neighbor and friend who passed away two years ago.  He was very proud of his service to his country and so I always think of him when I see those old guys out there amongst the cars at the stoplight.  I don't have family members who served, so George is what I think of when I think of a veteran.  And so I give in his memory. 

While my measly few bucks don't convey my gratitude, I am thankful for what our veterans have given for our country and our freedoms.

Thank you to you all.

Yes! 3 days of Weekend

Hobbes has this uncanny ability to relax in the middle of the yard like he was in the middle of the living room.  No birdie squawks, squirrel chattering, or lawn mower growls intimidate the relaxer. Nope.  He can take a full-blown nap with not a care in the world--no matter where he is.

Here's wishing you a Hobbes sorta-weekend.  You know, one where you relax and chill--no matter where it finds you.  Even if you are at your mother-in-law's BBQ--I wish you peace there amongst the potato salad. 

Let's take a message from the stripey guy--he's like the Dalai Lama of cats. Happy weekend, pallies.

Such happy in a wee bag 'o water

A few weeks ago, Emma took part in Operation Snowball, which is a motivational retreat that encompasses a weekend. Teens meet with other teens and counselors and it's all about acceptance and kindness and not doing drugs and such. It focuses on building self-esteem and feeling good.

During the course of those few days, the participants were encouraged to write nice things about the people they encountered along the way. Those little slips of paper were then put into a bag with your name on it, to be picked up before you left.  The idea was that when you were struggling, you had this "Bag of Good Feelings" to dig through and you had a nice reminder that you were a good person and someone likes you. 

I had two thoughts on the "Bag of Good Feelings":

1) I need one of those bags....and a BIG bag at that.

2) I just kept inserting that term into this song -- which I find hilarious...and nobody else does. 

I sorta got my own Bag of Good Feelings yesterday--but mine didn't include nice thoughts about Lin--mine had 4 very tubby tadpoles who were already sproutin' some mean froggie thighs.

Hog heaven, I tell you.  Hog. Heaven.

I took each one of those soft little guys out, gave him a grand hello and set them free into the pond to enjoy the warm sunshine, a wee bit of space, and some snappy lily pads to sit on...once they grow arms, that is.

Oh, it takes so very little to make me happy. But happy I am--in the promise of some new froglets and some new life back in the pond.

I Love Hobbes Thursday

Somebody else is missing the frogs too.

It isn't half as much fun to drink out of the pond when there aren't frogs in there

to flavor it. 

Tapping the inner zen

Do you have a place that you'd rather be right about now? I do.  I mean, who doesn't?  If we have a choice, I'm sure it is not the office or stuck in traffic with 10 billion other cars surrounding you. It's not gonna be your desk working or mowing the lawn. Nope, it's gonna be someplace good.

Here is mine--it's where I like to go on vacation. I'm not giving out the location because then you are gonna wanna go and then it's gonna get all crowded and I won't be able to go square dancing and hanging out on the porch of my cabin and stuff because there are too many people.  So, you will just have to imagine in your mind how really lovely this place is.

I gave this secret away to a blog friend and she and her family are gonna be down there this summer too. I hope they like it.  And being that she is going through a rough patch these days, I really, really hope she finds the peace that I find there as well.  There is something special about this sweet spot of the earth--the air is sweet, the sunshine is warm, and the people there are good. 

I imagine myself there today--me in a comfy chair on the back deck of my cabin, cocktail in hand.  Ahhhhhh.  Life is good.

Okay, what's your spot?

I am....

frogless.

And while most of you probably are too, I'm sure that doesn't bother you like it does me.  Seeing the pond empty of frogs is like having a cone with no ice cream.  It just isn't fun and it makes me sad.

We sat out on the patio the other night with friends, and as we talked, our last remaining frog serenaded us.  John freaked out, Betty laughed, and I grinned.  It's the simple stuff, you know?  I liked having that little friend singing me to sleep each night.  If you haven't had a bullfrog singing to the moon outside your bedroom window, then you haven't lived.  Well---according to me anyway.

Frogs are fickle and so, they leave, with no notice, no warning, and certainly no drama.  All that it takes is a wee bit of wet grass and a rainy night---and they are gone.  No "Thanks for raising me from a polywog, Lin" or "Time to move on, wacky frog-lovin' gal." Nope. You just wake up and look out into the pond one morning, and your heart sinks....knowing. You just know they are gone.

And then your husband goes to the local garden store to get you some tadpoles to make you happy, and the cycle begins again.

The hummingbirds are back for the summer and buzz our heads as we sit on the patio.  The dragonflies stop to lay their eggs on the surface of the water.  The fish are nudging each other and making more orangey baby fish. And the snails....well...they are nuts this year--I think we have a hundred of them if we have one.

So, while life continues on, I still feel sad for the loss of the frogs.  And until I spy some froglets come July, the pond isn't gonna be half as much fun to see....or hear.

 *sniff*

You had me at the rabbit ears, Hugh

Sunday mornings are me at the kitchen table with the paper (IF it gets delivered--which is not a given, apparently. But I digress....) spread out as I drink my coffee and guzzle down the news.  There is no finer start to a lazy weekend day than that, I say.  And if I find a good obituary.....BINGO! I'm in hog heaven.  It's like winning the newspaper lottery, you know?

Today, I feature Hugh Francis Richardson.  How do you not love this guy with his rabbit ears and happy face? He had me at the rabbit ears.

Hugh must have been a hoot--look...he's the "World's Greatest Backward Driver."  I love that. You know he announced that title every time he piled the family in the car and put it in reverse. I can see the kids cheering from the backseat now.  And his wife, rolling her eyes and clucking her teeth at his silliness. 

I think what I love most is his kids. I can only guess, but I'm thinking Dawn volunteered to write the obit for her dad.  And she apparently picked up her sense of humor from him.  Well played, Dawn. Well played.

I love people who can celebrate the fun in the lives of those that they have lost. How cool is that that Dawn and her family chose to remember the fun her dad was and not all that serious "and he is preceded in death by...." junk.  I hope that in my darkest hour of grief that I, too, can find it in me to remember and honor the fun in the one that I am grieving. I like that there is this new angle on obituaries and funerals that encourage us to laugh in our celebration of the deceased.

But why do I think nobody is gonna let me near the "send" key when it comes time to submit a family obituary? 

One week down...

Everyone keeps asking how it is to have Colin working with me this summer.  We've only worked "together" a week--so I'm not sure it is a good indication of how well this is working out. But if you count the fact that he has not murdered me yet, I'd say it is a success so far.

Being that he's in a different department from me, in a different building waaaaay across the parking lot--I think it's a good set-up.  I drop him off in the morning and pick him up at the end of the day.  If the weather is nice, he comes over for lunch and we sit at the picnic table outside of my building.

It's nice to have his company for the harried commute each day and I really like that we get a chance to talk a little bit.  Okay, so we talk about work and stuff, but it's nice to have him physically here to talk to.  Telephones and computer screens are no substitute for having your sonny boy next to you--in person. I miss that part now that he is so far away for 8 months out of the year.

It's sweet to come around the corner from getting your coffee and see his face there--stopping in our office for some official IT business. And it catches me by surprise every time.  It's a nice surprise.

I like the silly stuff--comparing notes on this person or that one, watching the cats in the parking lot and wondering what happened to all of the kittens, and discussing the merits of having a free lunch each day.  It's odd to have dinner conversations at home and actually have someone there who knows what the heck you are talking about.

And while I like having him there with me 3 days a week,  it's gonna make saying good-bye at the end of summer harder than ever. 

The secret is to NOT ask

I came in from work the other day and yelled a hello to Em, who was already home from school.  I didn't hear a reply, so I slowly opened her door and said "hello" again.  I was met with a very grumpy "hrumph mrph, mmrrr." or something similar, so I slowly did a Michael Jackson moonwalk out the door,  shutting it as I eeked the hell outta there.

That apparently wasn't good enough, so she crawled outta her room and continued the mutterings and grumblings all around the house.  Miffy here. Grumpy there.  Slammin' this, shovin' that.  If there was ever a time to turn on the invisibility, it was then. 

So, I asked for it. I did the unthinkable--I asked her how her day was. BIG. MISTAKE. Huge. Stupid me.

"SHITASTIC!" she yells back at me.

Well, okay then. 

I turned on my heels and walked into the kitchen to talk to Grace instead.

"Hi, Grace! How was your day? Was it 'Shitastic' too?" I followed her out the door to sit out in the grass. Apparently, she did not have a shitastic day. Actually, I think it was quite the opposite.

And this is what I learned that day:  Stick with the cat, my friends. Stick with the cat.

Taking Cover

Aw, man. NATO is in town this weekend and pretty much, all of Chicago is on lock down. Seriously.  Offices, museums, stores, and libraries in the city are all shut down starting on Friday.  There are cops everywhere. And we aren't just talking one or two cops every couple of corners--they are in groups of 4, 5 or 6 on nearly every corner. It's madness.

Joe's office is closed both Friday and Monday, just to keep the public transportation, streets, and buildings free of innocent people trying to live their lives without being caught in the possible anticipated chaos. 

I'm not sure who is protesting or what they are protesting and I really don't care. They are just turning our city into a security nightmare. And while everyone is joking and being light-hearted about the restrictions and the accommodations for these knuckleheads, I don't like the level of fear being raised.  It's just crazy. I don't ever remember all of this fuss for anything in Chicago.

Move over Hobbes, I think we'll be joining ya under the hostas come Friday.

It's a good thing he's not hungry or it woud be mass murder

Aw, criminy--it's Baby Bird Season. 

What that means around here is lots of birdie squawking at the kitties....and a kitty who is sick of hearing it.  Poor guy, he can't go anywhere without the blackbirds reporting in loud voice where he is, where he is heading, and what he might be thinking.  IF he wanders out of cover, he lays low, keeping every part of his orange stripey self out of the path of diving blackbirds.

Of course, it isn't like he isn't looking for it.  Homeboy was across the street yesterday morning, eyeing the crabapple tree that is home to some baby birds, apparently.  Well, that didn't last too long before he shot across the street, back home and safe under the cars in the driveway....closely followed by an angry mother bird.

And when that is boring, he finds other ways to entertain himself--like finding a vole in the neighbor's front yard. 

I love Joe's announcement the other night: "Hobbes has either grown a mustache or he's got a mouse," he yells to me through the house.  Apparently, Joe was calling him in when he ran across the front porch with his new-found friend in his mouth.  To which I yell back:  "Hey! Kids! Don't kiss the cat on the mouth--he's got a mouse!"  And then I wonder, do other people say this sorta stuff?  It's just so "normal" to us.

I gave him a few minutes of glory with his wee friend before going out to save him--the vole, I mean, not the cat.   Hobbes was out there, dodging this way and that, then picking that poor thing up with his mouth and dropping him--only to chase him some more. Poor thing.  Hobbes finally laid down, exhausted--and that's when I snagged him to bring him in.  The vole was last seen heading south on the sidewalk at approximately 35 mph. 

While Hobbes loves this time of year, I can pass, thank you, very much.  There's just way too much excitement for me.

And they thought the stray cats in the parking lot were a problem

Why is it the "last" one? I don't get what the problem is.

Beats the heck outta what I do all day.

And besides, it will give everyone something to gripe about. Well....something new anyway.

I'm totally bringing Hobbes.

Take a deep breath and keep going....

I trust you all had good a good Mother's Day.  Mine was spent out in the yard digging in soil and planting flowers all the while dodging attacks from a certain orange striped kitty. For some reason he thinks a wee bit of foliage hides his 17 pound frame--yeah, not so much.  But it does make me laugh.

After a day in the warm sunshine, we ate, showered, and headed off to the CYSO (Chicago Youth Symphony Orchestra) with friends for the evening.  One of our friends is in the orchestra this year, which always lends to the excitement.  It's amazing how lovely those kids play and how very talented they are.  Mix the lovely music, the good friends and the fact that my family was together--it was one great day.  

May continues is packed calendar as we brought Colin and a garage full of stuff home on Friday.  We don't have a basement, so this meant that Saturday was spent washing, sorting, and making notes on what we have and what we will need for the fall.  The family room was Sorting Central, and while I wanted to scream, the cats were having a hey-day--they love all that turmoil.

Today starts Mom & Col Go To Work Together, Joe and my 24th wedding anniversary, plus a flute lesson thrown in for good measure.  Well....at least I'm not bored.

Word to Your Mutha

Proud "Motherhood Moment" when both kids broke their arms in the exact same place--within 2 weeks of each other.  Yeah, me.  One was a baseball injury (with witnesses) and the other was a trip over the weed-whacker. Don't ask.

Yeah, well, we may not all be the epitome of motherhood, but you know, we do the best we can.  So, no matter what kind of mother you are or who you are a mother to--God bless ya. It's a tough job and a lot of work. I am personally exhausted.

I just like this day because I can say my annual speech and nobody can get mad at me--because I am their mother and they don't dare. I stand proudly when I say:

"I'd like to thank all the little people who made me what I am today."  

Feel free to borrow that speech--it goes over great with the family. I know my family just waits for that moment each year.



Happy Mother's Day, pallies! Word to your mutha from me and the gang at the Duck and Wheel.

May = Busiest Month EVER

LOTS going on this week as school is wrapping up for one kid and we are bringing home the other.  While I love all the end of the year concerts, dinners, parties and meetings, I have to admit to being pooped.  There isn't enough time to relax, more or less breathe, but these are good days.  So, while I may appear "cranky" (Diana, thank you for pointing that out to me), it's more that I'm busy and I haven't run to the store to stock up on rainbows, butterflies or unicorns lately.  Hell, I'm lucky I'm posting.

It's a nutty time of year with happy and sad all mixed in.  It's hard to see the year end, but then...thank god it's ending, you know.  I hate saying good-bye to the Seniors, but I'm also happy to see them so excited for college.  I like seeing the yard blooming, but I'm sad to remember my frogs who used to enjoy it with me.  I guess it's just an emotional time of year--lots of endings and new beginnings all jumbled together.

The weekend ahead is no exception to the madness--but it's all good. Colin came home yesterday and we have lots of plans to see friends over the weekend.  So, hang tight, I'll be back to the old "fun" Lin in no time.

Are you all as busy as we are?

To Midnight, with Love

"No amount of time can erase the memory of a good cat, and no amount of masking tape can ever totally remove his fur from your couch."  --Leo Buscaglia

My dear friend, Chuck, lost his kitty friend, Midnight, yesterday.  My heart aches for Chuck and Sylvia, as losing a kitty friend is horrible.  And the idea of losing him at only 2 1/2 years old is just heart-wrenching.

Midnight was a barn cat, one that survived the rest of his litter and Chuck rescued him from a life of danger and/or early death.  And from the onset, Chuck and Midnight were fast friends.  Oh, how I loved to hear of their silly adventures, playing with each other and taking naps while watching the car races.  If there were two peas in a pod, it was Chuck and Midnight.

Please stop by and give Chuck a little virtual hug today, as I'm sure he and Sylvia need it.  And please, give your animal friends a big smoochie in Midnight's honor as well.

Goodbye, dear kitty friend. You are gone way too soon. 

I give up

My internet connection died last night....although I was too tired to do anything about it.  So, it had to wait until the morning for me to call our internet carrier. That's always an adventure...

I love when you call the utilities, it's like the Inquisition just to get to the meat of the conversation.  And while I'm on the account, they rarely want to talk to the "missus", so I end up lying and saying "Joseph" when they ask my name. It wears me down and so I just naturally do that now.  Joe isn't home during the day to handle such stuff, and what difference is it to them WHO fixes the internet connection?? I'm not stealing top secret government secrets here, pal. I'm just trying to fix the damn computer.

And while my own utility companies treat me like a stranger--or worse--I've noticed lately that store clerks and cashiers are my "close" friends these days.What is with the weird-ass questions they are asking these days to give the impression of faux friendly? 

Case in point...

I'm at the Target (notice the "the" before Target--I do that now. Which means I'm old--or so my family says. But I digress..) and I was buying 20 cans of salmon flavored cat food, a small pink gift bag, and some orange tissue paper.  The dame starts dragging those cans over the scanner slowly, (which gives her time to think of weird stuff to say, I think) and she says to me "Sooooo, are you going to a birthday party?"

Huh?  With 20 cans of salmon-flavored cat food? 

"Uh, no. Are you?" I answer her sort of sarcastically.  I'm sorry, I didn't get the connection between all that cat food and a birthday party.  Why would she ask such a weird question?  And isn't that sort of personal?

"Well....I saw the gift bag...." and her voice trails, trying to lead me into explaining to her why I'm buying a gift bag--like it is any of her business.

I wasn't biting.  I left her wondering...and me a little confused.  And thinking that I hate whoever came up with this idea that I have to chat with the store workers when I shop.

My second stop on errand day was the grocery store to buy a couple of sunflowers for a friend.  As I'm checking out, the cashier said to me "Do you have a credit card?"

I looked at him, looked at the total (which read $4.32), and looked at him again.  "Uh, no. Do you?" And that freaks him out a bit and makes him cranky. 

"Well, I was just being nice.  I thought you might want to use a credit card to ring up some bonus points or something."  And I was sorta squinting my eyes trying to make sense outta what he just said and I'm wondering if it is just me or something.  What the hell?  Why would I use a credit card for a $4 purchase? And what business is it to him? It wasn't like the store I was in had their own credit card--I know how they push that too these days.  It was weird, I tell ya. Weird.

So, I hand him 4 singles and I proceed to dig into my purse for the change purse when he adds "It's 4.32. You only gave me 4 dollars."  Okay...he's gonna die now.  (This is when Joe usually starts backing away from me and the scene.)

"I'm getting the change for you.  Believe me, I'm not stealing, bud.  'Cuz if I am going to jail, it ain't gonna be for stealing.  It's gonna be for something BIG....you know, like murder or something."  And I hand him his damn 32 cents, grab my bag and walk away.

Okay, can the people who I don't want to talk to me, please stop talking to me?  And can those of you I want to talk to, please talk to me--without me having to use a really deep voice and saying the code word "Joseph" in order to do so? 

Why is this world so bass-ackwards? 

Please, don't pick the daisy's

Take a minute out for a special prayer and good healing thoughts for our pallies, Sharla and Sadie at Beaded Tail.  Sadie has surgery today to check out a suspect lump and poor Sharla is very scared and worried.  We love them both and hate to see Sharla so sad.  We wish you good news today and a speedy recovery, Sadie!

A few years back, when I was a SAHM, I had this weird thing happen one morning.  I was doing dishes or something really early in the morning and a woman in a car pulls up in front of our house. Then another car pulls up and the guy gets out and gets into the woman's car--and they start SMOOCHIN'!

Hot and heavy smoochin' too--not just a hug and a kiss.  It was full blown, hands-all-over-the-back smoochin'.  Like steaming-up-the-windows smoochin'. I just stood there staring--I think I was in shock. I mean, I never saw these people before and here they were--at some ungodly hour--necking in front of my house.  It was very exciting.  And appalling.

A few weeks later, Em comes home with a report, "Hey! Jimmy, from around the block? Well, his parent's are getting divorced. His mom has a boyfriend!"  Uh...yeah. No kidding. Really, honey? Why would you say that? (I think that was the first time I had the scoop on anything around here.)

Fast Forward to marching season this year.  At the very first band meeting, guess who walks in the door?  Yep, Smoochy and his gal.  Apparently they are married now-and they are all over each other at everything. It's just wrong.  Band parent meetings and football games are not good smoochin' places--but I don't think these two care. Needless to say, right?

Super Fast Forward to this week:  I'm pulling out of my garage on my way to work and I catch this idiot snapping lilacs off my neighbors lilac bush right next to my front window of the house.  I mean, it wasn't like it was on the street or anything...it was up against the house.

Guess who?  I busted Smoochy getting flowers for his gal.

I stopped my car and gave him the evil eye. I mean, this was stealing. It wasn't like this was a park or a neglected piece of property--this was my neighbor's well-kept meticulous yard and lilac bush.  She would have been infuriated, as was I at his rudeness.

You should have seen him cower to his car. Homeboy broke all land speed records getting into his car and kicking the car into reverse. He backed all the way around the corner and shot off down the street. He apparently was too embarrassed to pass me.

Super Duper Fast Foward:  Guess who walked into the band meeting tonight?  And caught my eye.  I could see it register that he totally knew who I was.

Busted.

I was feeling sorry for myself yesterday, so I posted this photo of a lovely flower to make me feel better.

It didn't work.

I will tell you a sad story so you can see how sad I was.  Not that this has anything to do with my story, of course. It's just a made up story--just so you get the sorta feeling that I had.

Or not.

Mary was a member of a ladies club that she went to every so often. She didn't always go, so sometimes she missed opportunities to do things the group did--like luncheons or parties and stuff. But she didn't really care--you know, Mary had other stuff to do.

One day, Mary got pulled aside by the lady in charge of the ladies club. She said "Mary, I'd like to give these lovely gold bars, worth a lot of money, to most of these ladies. They were in charge of fundraising all year and they worked really, really hard. We are giving them these very expensive, shiny, and pretty gold bars to thank them."

And Mary just sat there wondering why she was hearing this.

"So, Mary, would you mind going to the store to buy the best wrapping paper ever to wrap these gold bars for the ladies? And oh, would you stop and pick up some cookies on your way too, so we can thank them with delicious yummy treats as well?"

"Uh, sure" said Mary. And she didn't really mind.....

until later.

Then her feelings were sort of hurt because she wasn't getting a gold bar--even though she knew that she didn't really earn one. But still, her heart hurt a little as she tied those pretty bows on all of their gold bars.

The End.

This is the story discussion part:

1) Was Mary wrong for feeling a little left out?
2) Have you ever felt like Mary? 
3) Even though Mary is old enough to know better, can you understand why she felt the way she did?
4) Do you think it would be wrong of Mary to spit on the cookies?

Discuss amongst yourselves...

The Lord Giveth....

The sadness of losing 3 of 4 frogs has not left me.  I know, I know--they leave. That's what frogs do. I remind myself that they have wee brains and long legs--a dangerous combination....for the frog. 

I don't know what will become of them. I hope they make it to nearby backyard ponds or the creeks, 2 blocks in either direction from our house.  I just hope they survive to make more frogs, as that is my whole purpose of raising these little guys anyway. Well, that and I just love having them around here too.

So, I thank God and the good green earth for the days we had together and I move on....checking around at local pet shops and garden centers to see who can keep me in tadpoles.  The circle of life.... blah, blah, blah.

In the meantime, there is joy...albeit on a much smaller scale:

the praying mantis eggs hatched!

Click on the photo to see the newly hatched little ones. And little they are! I think there were 200 of these teeny tiny half-inch size babies sitting on the branches of the butterfly bush. 

By pure luck, I just happened to notice one on the window of the living room on Friday. I went to check and noticed that one of the eggs had hatched. See how the egg looks like it has sawdust coming from it (above photo)?  That is where the babies chewed their way out of the egg. 

The other egg was not like this, so I held out that we might see these babies newly hatched.  Sure enough!  Saturday afternoon found me checking......and there were babies everywhere!

Of course, you know I am the only person in the entire world who gets excited over stuff like this, so I yelled to the family and they came running.  Everyone, including Hobbes, had to come see the new babies.  Dang, they were small.  I have to admit they are a tad creepy too, but they're babies, so I had to oooh and ahhh a bit too.

So, life moves on in the back forty (feet).  It always does.  Oh, it gives me some time to sniffle a bit at the losses, but just when you are about to give up with caring, life comes back with some sunshine and happy to warm your heart again.  And so we continue....

The new taddies are scheduled to arrive in a few weeks. 

Loyalty

 Grace and I had a little chat yesterday:

"Grace, I love that when I whisper to ya 'Act like you're sleeping!' you do. And you're good too, Dad falls for it every time. And when it rains, you don't hop away like certain ungrateful frogs I know."

You know, some things are just not taken for granted by me.

The Frogs of Change

During a particularly loud and haily storm last night, I looked out with my flashlight to check on the frogs.  It was just at that moment I happened to see one jump right through the fence into the neighbor's yard.  Sigh.  One down.....let's hope he's smart enough to at least make it to her pond.

I knew better, but I couldn't help myself--I checked again a bit later....and sure enough, there goes Number 2 towards the fence, walking--not even hopping--away from out pond. It was like he was sneaking away. I ran out with the net, corralled the guy, picked him up and set him back into our waters.  I knew the outcome of that adventure.

Sure enough, I'm down 3 lovely, dotty bullfrogs this morning.  And that makes me sad. Joe says in a calming voice, "They'll be back," but I'm never so sure.  I just hope that they find water. And that another storm comes tonight and brings them home.  Wet grass = traveling frogs.  I sure hope so, I'm feeling a little blue this morning.

So, the frogs of change are upon me:

• Colin is coming home--with all of his crap stuff.  Make room in our wee abode for lots of smelly college stuff. And another big body in the mix.
• Mabel is missing.  Mabel is our cat friend from across the street. She hasn't been seen since Monday and we are all sad.  I keep telling Hobbes to go find her and bring her home, but he just looks at me like "Is it treat time yet?" He is not helpful. Say a prayer for our cat friend, please.
• I'm moving my desk at work. Days of Cube 3 are nearly over, which on most levels is fine by me, but I'm gonna miss my pally Irene. I miss the days of Jim, Irene and me in the Cubes.  Good times never last forever, unfortunately.  

While none of these things are particularly life shattering, it's still change and turmoil in my personal and professional (?) life. Things are unsettled.  I'm not sure where I'll be setting my rubber band ball at work or how it will be to share a private office space with Office Joe (what are the odds his name is "Joe" too?).  I am sad about the loss of kitty and frog friends--especially when they bring me such joy.  And it's definitely mixed feelings about Colin coming home--I can't wait to have him here, but it is hard, you know? He's independent most of the year and so are we. It's always a period of adjustment when he settles in for the summer.

Interesting days ahead. 

The Beauties of my Life

After posting this photo, I realized that it's my kid's birthday today and I posted a photo of my frog instead of my kid. Is that weird? 

I'm gonna go with the excuse that I'm protecting her privacy. You know, she's a teen and all that.  They don't like it when you go and post their photos and talk about how cute they were all those years ago....

Yeah.

Are you buying it?

Nah, me neither.

Okay....

Happy 17th Birthday, Emmie! 

You're good to go, ma'am

Hobbes has this weird thing where he has to sit on me right when he wakes up--and when I'm still sleeping. He sits square on my chest, digging his kitty heels right into my breastbone. And he gets there by catapulting onto the bed and walking the entire length of me, all 47 lbs of stripey goodness digging into me with those little teeny tiny feet. It hurts like hell, but sometimes you gotta take lovin' any way you can.

I'm not sure what started this, but he's now started to repeat this gig when Joe comes home from work each day.  Joe's coming in just happens to coincide with the tail end of Mom and Grace read/nap hour, so again, I'm lying prone to this love assault.

Imagine someone tossing an ottoman on your chest as you sleep--that's akin to Hobbes jumping on you to tell you how much he loves you.  Only with more fur and drool than an ottoman typically has.

I was lying there yesterday, with Hobbes heels digging into the middle of me, when I said to him, "Hobbes. You're in a bad rut, dude.  Maybe we need to rethink the cuddle time." But then he just purrs and I keep petting him as his stripey fur sails around the room.

It was then that I realized how ridiculous it was that these doctors were pushing for me to have my gallbladder removed with no signs or symptoms whatsoever.  Here I was, 17 pound cat on my chest, his feet digging into the spot my gallbladder is located and I don't have any pain.  Don't you think that if I was that sick that my cat's feet would at least alert me to some sort of pain? I mean, how does one have an ottoman on their chest and not have pain from a sick gallbladder?


I'm lucky like that--built in second opinion from Dr. 47 lbs of Stripey Goodness.

Random Weird Stuff

Random Weird photo

Can I just say how much I am enjoying my new bras?  I know--it's random, but, you know, there is just something about a) getting a new bra and b) being able to go to the store and finding said bra style/brand again.  Why is that so darn difficult?  Either way--I have some new bras and that makes me happy--and probably the people who look at me too.

What is it about chlorinated water that makes grown adults act like they are 8?  There was some weird dude in the "deep end" of the pool--which is really only a little deep, like 5 1/2 feet--and he kept just squatting down in the water. He had his little goggles on and he'd squat down like he was sitting on the bottom.  What is with that? Does he think nobody sees him?  Does he know that he looks like an idiot?  Does he know that this isn't his gramma's backyard pool--that this is a lap pool? At a rec center?

Don't even ask about the old guy hacking up a loogie in the shallow end.  I just kept thinking "Don't spit. Please don't spit."  in my head.  Do you know how hard it is to swim laps when you are thinking this old guy is gonna spit a loogie in the pool?  I don't think he did, but still, it grossed me out.  Joe wants to know why I keep going there.

Yeah, me too.

Joe shaved off his goatee the other day and now his face looks fat. And it looks like he has flesh-colored lips.  I didn't even notice it when he did it--I just thought there was something up with his lips--they looked weird.  He said nobody even noticed at work--isn't that weird too?  You'd think people would notice something like that.  They don't.

I was woken up the other night/morning at 4:30 a.m. by Em's Hoops and YoYo door decoration.  I'm not sure who set it off, but at 4:30, I hear these wacky high-pitched voices singing "Come in our room! Come in our room! It may not be clean, but come in....our room!".  Scared the living crap outta me. At that hour, you aren't sure if it was the cat that set it off--or a robber.  Maybe a murderer.  Can you imagine getting murdered to Hoops and YoYo singing?  Criminy, I hope not. 

But I laid there, scared and awake, until my alarm went off at 5:30.  Yeah, me.  Today, I don't find Hoops and YoYo so cute anymore.

Although the whole experience gave me some time to think of all this weird stuff.