Me, the coffee pot, the dog with his bone, and a homemade cheesecake.



You know you're old when the phone rings and you HOPE it's not for you.

Oh Evil Overlord. You are blessed. You are remembered and you are loved. You know you are old when you drive a 5 speed pick up and keep trying to find 6th gear.

Saturday night with a 2 hour power outage.

What fun.

Luckily, I have canned food and candles and oil lamps.

The dog didn't care; he went to bed after he had his cheesecake.

Paolo wrote: Sun Mar 31, 2013 7:36 pm The dog didn't care; he went to bed after he had his cheesecake.

CHEESECAKE?!? No wonder your pup is approaching spherical. He's one lucky dog though....

It's sugar free and low carb, crustless this time. I was out of almond meal and it's ridiculously priced here. He didn't eat the strawberry slice...

I was going to post this yesterday and forgot.

It was a crazy week last week, hence the need to come home and have cheesecake.

They say that deaths come in 3's - well, at least they do around here.

One of Grandpa's friends died, he was 70-something.

Then my great-aunt died, 1 day shy of being 92.

Then my aunt-by-marriage, her mom died at 80-something.

Grandpa turned 85 the other day, and for as good a shape as I've gotten in, I can't keep up with him.

I figure I'll come home and find him dead any day now, from something crazy like falling off the roof! He is Mr. Fix-It, you know.

I was a bit hung-over from Easter all day yesterday. My four year old "grandson" was wound up tight all day long. I got him a 1lb. chocolate rabbit, among all the other gifts, and what Jesus sent, too.

When I stop and think about it, my grandparents took me away from my mom when they were ~40; only 2-3 years off from where I am now, come to think...at my current age, they had a kid just starting school! I really don't know how GS's dad can work like he does and keep up with him. It's no wonder his mom keeps so thin! She has quite the daily exercise routine, I am sure! She has declared that he is going to kindergarten as soon as they'll take him!

My shiitake mushroom patch and logs are built. I made 2 logs, and filled an old maple with plugs too, and put the rest under a bed of hardwood mulch to experiment with a ground patch. The plugs were already budding stuff in the bag.

I went across the south and west sides of the house, cleaning out the strip gardens there. I think I need a nap now. It was actually warm enough to work in a short sleeved shirt with the sun hitting me and the side of the house.

It is that time of year to plant things. Something about seeing something you planted, growing brings rewards and positive things in your life. I have always loved growing a big garden and growing all the vegetables and fruits that I grew. It is rewarding..

Last winter, the "winter that wasn't," I had a couple cabbage plant with the head cut live all winter. They put out side heads and went to seed. I collected them. This year, all those seeds sprouted!

Today, I cut poison ivy vines as big as my arm off of trees at G3's house near the lake. We'll put Roundup on the stumps next. I don't get it, so I get the job. Hooked a rope around the vines, then yanked them down out of the trees and tossed them over the cliff.

We had dinner, and splurged with some sugar free Oreo cookies.

There were 10 left in the package at 6PM or so. When the 4 year old 'grandson' ran out of gas around 9PM, the package was empty. No one saw him go in the kitchen again?

This Friday night wasn't that exciting. I had to be up early to go and take pictures of the little kids for local baseball.

My last great challenge last season was putting a kid in the group shot who wasn't even there. But I did have his portrait to work with. I put "Timmy's" head on "Billy's" body and changed the number on his shirt. He had Under Armor cleats. Easy to borrow from another kid's picture.

I can honestly say, FUCK that Microsoft ad where they show the software automatically changing heads and making the perfect picture! It DON'T WORK LIKE THAT!

So yesterday, we arrive at the ballpark. My boss finds no humor in my sign "Ass whippin's provided at NO extra charge!"

It rained all night. The field is a swamp. Thank God it's overcast. No crazy flash settings to deal with. I put the camera on portrait mode ISO 160 and let it go. We're dealing with 3 and 4 year olds here; I need all the help I can get.

Then it happens: team 3, the coach seems to not know who is who. He calls names, and kids come over. About halfway through, I realize that I've taken this one kid's pic already. The coach doesn't understand why this is so important. We review the images. I knew I should have brought the laptop. I think we got it sorted out. Just to be safe, I'll make a slideshow to post online, hidden, and call parents to ID the kids. T-ball is always rough; I don't know these kids, unlike the Rookies or Minors, whom I've seen for years.

That sorted out, we move on. Here comes Little Miss Howling Bitch. This happens every year. Boys, I can bribe off with candy. Little girls don't seem to like me. We get her done...finally. Someone is breathing down my neck. There's a little boy from the black & white team standing behind me. We did his team already. In fact, HE was the line-jumper boy who messed up my shot sequence.

"Where's your team, kid?"

I don't know.

"Do you have a mom and dad?"

No.

His team is already playing - halfway across the park. I have another team coming. By this time, he's got his arms around my neck and figured out how to PLAY the images on the camera. I have the dreaded group shot to set up. I do this with a small child hanging off my back.

"Yours?" I am asked.

"No, he just found me." I reply.

We take the group shot. "Z" is an enormous help. I have another Howling Bitch who won't stand up and then runs away. I'll rebuild her later out of 2 other kids, I'm sure.

The next team is showing up. I still have "Z" attached to me. Seriously, no one has missed this kid yet?

"I wanna stay wit' you!"

All-righty, then...

Halfway through that team's session, someone comes to claim him before I have the chance to get him a nice big chocolate bar. I really thought I was going to get to keep this one. His game is half over by now, you see.

So when we're finally done, I take my flash unit off the bracket and drop it. It falls 1 foot to the picnic table and breaks. This poor old thing is almost 10 years old, it's been through hell, and it breaks? It's been left out on the field over night, wet, dropped, kicked, used as a floor hockey puck, and it still worked. And this fall breaks it?! I am so shocked and angry about this, I go ahead and smash it on the concrete. There's no such thing as half-broke, so let's do it right! I love the sound of shattering, expensive equipment.

Of course, my dream flash has a 2" thick titanium body, but I digress.

1/4 tank of gas and $149.99 later, I have a new flash ready for next weekend.

I am in need of a nap by now. It's too near the first of the month and all the stores are mobbed. Blood sugar be damned, I'm going to the little taco joint near the University to indulge! I took Jesus there once when he was here. The old trick still works. I order a hot, wet, queen burrito for "here".

"I need a hot, wet queen in the dining room!" The cashier calls out. Don't we all!?

I am sure A-1 will go there and try this now!

It's almost as good as the motel sign that used to read "Queens in every room!"

But it's not over yet.

I get home. The dog wants to go out. Across the lower field, it begins to rain. I am momentarily nostalgic. When I was a kid, rain or shine, this time of year I would disappear into the forest, all day long, until dark. I would come home cold, wet, and with loads of mushrooms. I found 1 this time. Oh, for the days when I was a kid, and I would end up filling my hoodie with mushrooms, tying the sleeves and drawstring shut to make a sack.

On the way to the old patch, we come across a wild turkey hen sitting on a nest. The hard way. She explodes out from under me, almost literally. I need to change my pants now. I think the dog has had a heart attack. Now he wants the eggs. They're brown, speckled, and almost round. Not quite as large as a softball. Back home, I call the neighbor who calls his DNR buddy. They assure me the hen will come back.

Never mind the fact that 6 baby foxes live about 100 yards up the hill in the old barn. Mother Nature at her best.

At least that horny bitch coyote isn't flirting around with my outside dog anymore.

But it's not over yet. Last week, the brown dog turned on Grandpa and bit him. I get to shoot him (the dog) on Tuesday! I have to change Pa Kettle's bandage. I'm cold, wet, muddy, and smell like pee. Never mind, I have things to do. The black dog has followed us in, a huge Belgian Shepherd. He shakes. Water and mud flies. I've been up since 7AM. That was 13 hours ago. They don't call it the "mud room" for nothing. Next time, I get a tan washer/dryer; you can't see the spots on them.

Needless to say, I'm paying for it all now. Maybe it's Lyme Disease from all those tick bites? We're not going out today.