Wednesday, October 7, 2015

I'm like Mother Teresa visiting the shut-ins....

Well, sorta....

I found out this weekend that there shut-ins other than seniors in wheelchairs.  Who knew?!

Did you all ever hear of a "shut-in" as in the land form?   Not me.  And I have lived through TWO landform projects when my kids were in the 6th grade.  Oh, we know all about archipelagos and such...but I never heard of a shut-in.  Damn....I wish I could do a re-do and recoup some bitchin' bonus point with this one!  rats.


This shut-in is where a river narrows and gets trapped or "shut-in" by these beautiful rocks that don't erode very easily.   The water works its way through the rocks by traveling in waterfalls and tide pools and little rushing rivers.  It was just lovely. These photos do NOT capture how pretty it was there.

This is Johnston's Shut-Ins State Park in the Missouri Ozarks:

And just so you know that I am not making this stuff up:

Dang.  Not only did we have fun, but I learnt somethin' too.  Hee! Haw!

Here is me, all smart-like now:

(Notice how we don't have a photo of me asking "where are the old people in wheelchairs" a thousand times at the park's nature center.)

Monday, October 5, 2015

The Annual Hunt for the Pumpkin

Nobody will go with us anymore, but Joe and I still make the annual trip to the pumpkin patch on our way to visit Colin for the weekend. Emma would go, but she is in school and very busy.  Colin is not interested in pumpkin patches anymore, and he certainly does not find our pumpkin patch shenanigans hilarious either.  Bummer.

That's okay. I have Joe. Joe has me.  We make a fun time with or without anyone else coming along for the ride.

This pumpkin patch is the only one that I know of that you can actually cut the pumpkin from the vine.  We like this for some reason. I guess it lends legitimacy to our "pumpkin patch" visit.  In Chicago, they just dump a bunch of pumpkins out in the field and you just pick one up. 

It's boring.

Here, you have rules.  You have to take the pumpkin that you free from the vine. Sooooo, you better be sure that you like that orange beast before you commit.  That means turning it on the vine, carefully, to make sure it isn't rotten on one side....or that you may see one a few feet away that looks better.  It is very stressful to both agree on just the right pumpkin. We rarely do, that is why we end up with 4 pumpkins crammed into our car each year.

I liked this one, but Joe said "no."  Joe is a buzzkill.  He said it would not fit in our car.  I think he was just jealous that I found the biggest, bestest pumpkin EVER.   I think he was secretly jealous and therefore would not let me have it.  He is a hater, that Joe.

We had to settle on these:

Joe was sort of embarrassed that it was just he and I and would loudly say "Our kids are in the porta potty" when we passed entire families entering the patch.    Nobody was fooled.  Also, nobody really cared. 

Friday, October 2, 2015

Small hopes

The other morning, I sat, stopped in traffic, on top of a city bridge.  We were at a stop light, 3 lanes of heavy traffic waiting to move.  I had my moon roof open....when a flock of pigeons took flight overhead. they weren't as lovely as a murmuration of starlings....but they were still very cool. And I was excited to see them.

I sat, in my car, looking up....listening to the sound of their wings against the cool morning air....

and hoped......


that nobody would poop on me.

Thursday, October 1, 2015

Go ahead....guess!

Guess what I'm doin' this weekend?

Here is a hint:

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Who me?

We've had a customer in the office for meetings for 3 days this week.  I am often asked to host these events, providing food and drink for their meetings.  I don't mind--especially when those asking are appreciative--which they are...immensely.

Hosting means leaving the house at 6:30 a.m. to get bagels or danish from the bakery, then running to the office to prepare the room for visitors.  Fruit, coffee, ice water, mints on the table, refrigerator name it, I've got it going on for you.  It's stressful though--I'm rushing to my car for supplies and back again, making sure I have it ready for the 8:30 a.m. arrival. This isn't even accounting for the running back and forth all day making sure they have everything....

Yesterday, I started the coffee before grabbing the cart for the car run.  I was so damn proud of myself for being so organized.

"Need me to start coffee?"  I ran into my neighbor and co-worker on my way down in the elevator. 

"Nah....I've started a pot already," I replied.


Except that while I started the pot, I forgot one thing...........


There was freaking coffee everywhere. All over the counter. Under the coffee machine. Soaking anything on the counter. In the drawers.  On the inside and the outside of the cabinets. 

Ugh.'s really, REALLY clean under the coffee maker now. 

Tuesday, September 29, 2015

Starving, I tell you.

His hunger is insatiable.  Every time we turn around, Hobbes is crying for food. 

He has diet food in the programmable food dish.  He gets a certain amount 3 times a day...certainly he isn't going to starve. Still, we pour out more food for the Orange Stripey. Can't have him starve, you know.

Or is it that he was always eating Grace's food?  (We had to leave food out for her all the time due to her kidney failure.) Hmmmmm....

Finally, last night...I sat on the floor to re-program his feeder. Perhaps we will up the feedings to 4 times a day.  He just always seems to be starving.

Uh oh....the timer is broken.  Poor cat wasn't getting ANY food unless we poured it out for him.  He's lucky to be alive, for goodness sake.  Look at him...he's nearly skin and bones!

Monday, September 28, 2015


I think Hobbes has always had the mulligan when it came to human contact and snuggling.  Grace was the alpha cat and my buddy, so he just always shirked his responsibilities when it came to cuddling and being pet.

Basically....he doesn't do it. maybe there is those 5 minutes when you first wake up in the morning...but that is IT.  No petting allowed other than those 5 minutes.

So, this was okay before...but now that Grace is gone, he is the only cat. The only pet.  As in...the ONLY animal in the house that is a pet and should be PET.

It's starting to grate on my nerves.  

I plopped him on the bed the other morning when I was changing sheets.  "Let's play Sheet Monster, Hobbes," I said.  Nope.  He was terrified. Couldn't figure out what on earth was under the blanket that was "gonna get him."  Criminy.  Seriously, he was so scared, he jumped down and ran away. 

He is sorta stupid, I think.

There is talk of maybe, possibly adopting another kitty after the holidays to fill the void.