Finlay {Two Months Later}

Do you remember Finlay?

If you follow my Instagram then there is no way you cannot remember him.

I have inundated Instagram with Finlay.

I would say I apologize for that, but it just wouldn't be truthful.

I'm not sorry.

I adore him.

 

 

Finlay has adjusted to Noble life quite well.  That outdoor dog we had to drag into the house the night we brought him home, well he now prefers the comfort of air conditioning and cushy couches to hanging with us outside on the back deck when the weather is lovely and perfect.  He quickly became accustom to afternoon snack time with gourmet dog cookies.  He loves to "go" in the car and will refuse to get out once we've arrived back home.  He loves cuddles and kisses.  And though our little, nappy bear hasn't grown in height (he measures only 25" at the withers and a little under 5' when standing on his back legs) he has put on some much needed weight.  He was very underweight at 59lbs when we got him and is now at a healthy 75lbs.

 

 

I am almost certain Finlay is Lucy reincarnated.  There is only one difference, (okay two if you include breed) where Lucy thought she was Zeus (i.e. immortal) Finlay is more like, well, like a mouse or a sparrow.  He is very shy and cautious of new people and new places, but like many dogs he has that sixth-sense and can "feel" people.  And though there has only been one instance of this occurring, this dog will not hesitate to bow-up and the most menacing growl will emerge from the depths of his puffed up chest should he "feel" someone is dangerous to us.  However, most of the time he is just a big, shy, happy goofball.

 

 

Finlay goes for two walks a day; one in the morning and one in the evening.  We practice following commands we already know on these walks and work on new ones.  Lately Finlay has been working on coming to us when called.  And he's been doing very well.  We are hoping he will be like Daisy and never stray too far from us so he can play freely when we go to the "big" park. 

 

And this is why I had him off his lead down at the "little" park.

 

I will not be doing that again.

 

 

I let him off his lead and we were playing with the poopie bag holder as one would a ball.  (He loves this.)  But then he got too far from me.  So I called him back.  Nadda.  I called for him to stop.  Nope.  I yelled at him to sit.  Wasn't going to happen.  He kept going until he came to the (probably terrified) little guy, who I'm sure only wanted to get out for some morning exercise, not be accosted by a little wolfhound.  Then he sat and asked the unsure little man if he wanted to pet him.  (This was a Finlay "first moment".)  Just as the guy realized Finlay was not going to rip his throat out, he went in for the pet.  And that's when Finlay heard his daddy's car coming down the road.

And took off again.

As he started to cross the street to get to his daddy, a big scary man in a truck started yelling at him and before his daddy could get out of the car and get him, Finlay was off like a rocket.

 

 

The Farmboy jumped back into his car and tore back down the way he had just come (from home) while I jiggled sprinted as fast as I could down the sidewalk, despite my protesting bladder.  The Farmboy had gone around to the back of the house and I the front.  As I came up to the front walkway I saw that the front door was standing open.

 

 

That crazy dog had high-tailed it from the park straight to our house, opened the front door and was in the house sitting up against the back door, as far from the street and as close to safety as he could get.

 

And then we checked his paws for thumbs.

 

 



Finlay

I would like to introduce you to our newest family member...

 

 

Finlay Alwishes Noble

 

It's been eight months since I had to say goodbye to my Lucy.

Eight months.

It feels like three and I still miss her like crazy.

And then all of a sudden Daisy was gone.

If you've been stopping by here long enough then you might know eleven years ago Lucy came with me into this marriage of mine to the Farmboy.

And you'll also know that nine years ago Daisy came into our family with the intention that she would be the Farmboy's little sidekick.

 

It's been over fifteen plus years since I have been without a dog by my side.

That said, I had no intention of finding a new fur baby just yet.

I just didn't think it was time.

Well, it turns out The Universe had other plans.

 

 

I have wanted an Irish Wolfhound for more years than I can remember.

I said one day I would have one.

The Farmboy, however, did not want a dog the size of a horse.

I also really wanted a rescue dog.

It's very rare to find an Irish Wolfhound rescue.  There just aren't very many of them.

And then the stars aligned and Finlay fell into our laps from out of nowhere.

He is the perfect compromise for us- an Irish Wolfhound mix,

{mixed with what, I'm not sure of yet}

but he looks like a full blooded Wolfhound other than his size,

which is smaller than a year and a half Wolfhound should be.

He is also as gentle and loving as a full Irish Wolfhound.

He is so handsome and sweet and smart.

 

 

I'm still grieving for the loss of Daisy.

I had a good thirty minute sob just yesterday afternoon,

but Finlay helps a little with that.

Time and Finlay.

Just what the doctor ordered, evidently.

 

Thank you, everyone, for all of your kind comments, emails and messages for both the loss of Daisy and my mancub's twenty-first birthday.

My love to you all!

 



Our Sweet, Sweet Daisy

 

The Daisies Poem

 

Over the shoulders and slopes of the dune

I saw the white daisies go down to the sea,

A host in the sunshine, an army in June,

The people God sends us to set our hearts free.

 

The bobolinks rallied them up from the dell,

The orioles whistled them out of the wood;

And all of their saying was, "Earth, it is well!"

And all of their dancing was, "Life, thou art good!"

 

-Bliss Carman

 

*********

 

Rest in Peace sweet girl.

 



Twenty-one

Twenty-one years ago there was a girl;

a girl with a break in her heart.

 

 

Twenty-one years ago a man-cub was born;

born to the girl with the break in her heart.

 

 

The first time the girl held him

something happened.

Something happened in that dark, quiet room;

just the two of them, in the middle of the night, looking into each other's eyes for the first time.

 

His eyes, so full with the knowledge of...

of everything.

She could see that he knew everything;

everything from the heavens to the break in her heart.

 

And then with an timid "hello" and a tear sliding down her cheek,

the break in her heart began to heal.

 



Lucy {Tails}

She was only five weeks old and she had severe separation anxiety.

A tiny, little black and white thing with paws several sizes too big for her and ginormous, floppy ears.  It looked as if someone with a paw-print stamp had stamped her directly on the white fur atop her muzzle.

She was the cutest thing that ever walked the planet.

 

A week into living with Lucy found us out in the yard one day.  She came barreling around the corner, tripping over her too-big feet, ears flying in every direction possible and a toy locked tight between her jaws.  She skidded to a stop in front of me, but refused to let go of the toy to allow me to throw it for her.  {This would turn out to be a preview of all future play times- always chase, never fetch.}  After a few moments of tug-of-war with the toy she turned and ran away with anticipation that I would chase after her, but before taking a step to do so, a strange combination of gasp, groan and giggle emerged from me.  Lucy had found and eaten an 8 inch piece of cotton rope.

I knew this because 3 inches of it was hanging out of her backend.

And that was the beginning of life with Lucy.

 

*********

The first house that Lucy lived in with us only had one door leading outside- the front door.  This door had a lever style door handle.  Once big enough to reach it, Lucy quickly learned how to let herself into the house, which would have been really great had she also learned to wipe her feet and close the door after her.  Though she was very skilled at getting in, there were only a handful of times she was able to let herself out... but not for a lack of trying.

 

Early one morning I stepped outside for a minute, closing the door behind me and Lucy's separation anxiety hit her full force.  Before I ever made it off the front porch I heard the whining start, followed by paws on the inner door knob.  I turned back around to let her out, but I was too late.  In her frantic attempt to open the door she had inadvertently locked the dead bolt.

It was 6AM.  My keys were inside.  Nobody else was home.  I was in my pajamas.

As I sat there and pondered what to do, Lucy, her eyes fixed on me through the locked front window, was howling in agony over the piece of glass that separated us.  After 30 minutes of this, and trying every window on the house, I finally decided to buck up and walk down the road to the gas station and beg use of their phone {this was pre-cell phones} to call my {then} husband.  As I opened the front gate she let out the shrillest cry yet.  I turned back to find that the tormented animal inside had managed to unlock the window during this last assault upon it.

 

*********

Lucy's favorite foods....

tuna fish, french fries, tomatoes {of which she preferred to eat from a fork- quite daintily I might add} and anything made of plastic that belonged to her Boy.  This included, but was not limited to, Legos, cars and action figures.

 

*********

After Trick or Treating every Halloween evening Lucy's Boy and I would sit down at the table and sort through his candy.  One particular Halloween we sorted out all of the chocolate and placed it in its own bowl which we then set on the kitchen counter.  The next afternoon when I came home from work Lucy was not at the door waiting to greet me with her usual bear hug.  As I walked in her head slowly came up over the back of the couch.  She blinked at me with her crazy googly-eyed gaze {she had one black inner eyelid and one white inner eyelid which often made her look somewhat kooky}, ears straight as arrows coming off each side of her head and then slowly lowered herself back down.

I immediately went in search of the disaster.

I found it in the kitchen- a broken glass bowl.  There were pieces of glass all over the floor and not a single piece of chocolate {or a wrapper} was to be found.

 

*********

We had a nightly ritual and Lucy played a big part in it.  Every night after bath and teeth brushing the three of us {Lucy, Lucy's Boy and I} would dance on the bed to Mickey and the gang to get the last of the wiggles out, then the two of them would snuggle down, Lucy at the foot of the bed and her Boy tucked under the covers, for a story.  Once the story was over and kisses given I would leave the room, closing the door behind me.  Every single night Lucy would put her Boy to bed.  She would lay there until he was a sleep, no matter how long it took.  Once he was fast asleep she would quietly paw at his door so she could then come out and spend time with me.

 

*********

I had been single for about 9 months.  Lucy's Boy was spending the weekend with his father and a friend decided I needed a night out.  Because we were going to be out late it was decided that she would spend the night at my house.  My friend was on a diet and taking Metabolife.  Turned out she had left the bottle on the counter.

As we dragged ourselves through the front door at 3AM we came upon Lucy literally running circles around the living room like a greyhound on the track with hare in its sights.

We found the bottle of Metablolife.

The lid had been chewed off and a quarter of it ingested, along with half of the bottle's contents.

 

*********

In her older years Lucy became over protective.  There were times when she would come face to face with a stranger and suddenly turn into Cujo.  She strongly felt it was her duty to protect her people.

Unless, that is, we needed protecting from a cat.

I have never heard a noise come out of an animal like that.  A cat only had to take one step towards her and Lucy would shriek like a teenage girl being murdered in a low budget horror movie and hide behind us, shaking so hard her canines would rattle in her head.

 

*********

One day, after work, I entered the front door to find Lucy sitting proud and pretty in the center of a sea of oats... not a thread of the living room carpet to be seen.

Seemed I had left a brand new container of oatmeal out on the counter.

 

*********

Every year on Christmas morning, Lucy would be the first into the living room.  We would find her sniffing through all of the stockings looking for hers, knowing that Santa would have left a stuffed rabbit for her.

It was the one time out of the year that we didn't worry she would get into something she shouldn't.

All Lucy cared about on Christmas morning was finding her new rabbit.

 

*********

Lucy was a wonderful companion.

She was a happy constant in our lives and very loyal {sometimes to a fault}.

We could always count on her to make us laugh, to console us when we were sad and to provide us with a mess to clean up.  But all of those messes were worth the love that she brought into our lives.

Especially mine.

 

 

I love you, Lucy.

RIP

January 1998 - October 2012

 

 



Green Chili

It's been a year, today, since my Mother in Law passed away.

So, I thought it would be nice tribute to post her recipe for green chili.

 

 

My MIL was born and raised in a small town in southern Colorado, just near the boarder of New Mexico, so green chili is kind of a big deal where she came from.

 

She spent her entire working life in the food industry- from waiting tables to being a cafeteria lady at school to owning and working her own restaurant (or two).  And green chili was her specialty.

 

Nobody in our family ever made it, except her.  We bowed to her green chili expertise.  In that expertise she swore the only chiles to use were Hatch green chiles and always bought cases in August during the big roasting fests that happen around these parts.

 

 

Before she became too sick to cook, she showed me how to make it and wrote the recipe down for me.

 

Sandy's Green Chili

 

4lbs. Hatch green chiles chopped

2lbs. ground pork

2lbs. ground Italian sausage (hot or mild)

3medium onions chopped

8cloves garlic chopped

1lb. 12oz. can Rotel (original)

5Tb cumin

2Tb cilantro (1/4C if using fresh)

1Tb salt

Water (about 1C)

Browned flour (about 1/4C)

 

Brown meat and drain off fat.  Add the chiles, onions and everything through to the salt.  Stir in water and simmer for 2 hours.  Give it the occasional stir adding in more water if it becomes too dry.  After 2 hours, add in 2Tb to 1/4C of browned flour to thicken to your personal preference.  Cook for 10 more minutes.

 

Makes: A boat load!

 

This is SO delicious over fresh homemade sopapillas.  But honestly, I don't know the first thing about making sopapillas.  So unless we're eating this in Colorado and the Farmboy's cousin's girlfriend has blessed us with her perfect sopapilla-making talent, we eat the chili as is or over chimichangas bought in the freezer section of the grocery store.

Sad, I know.

 

If you decide to give it a try, please let me know what you think, cuz we think it the diggity-shniz.

 

PS.  I should probably warn you- if you use fresh chiles and you've purchased the hot ones and then use hot Italian sausage and you have a delicate palate like mine, it may take a whole gallon of milk to cool your mouth off afterwards.

 



This Is How They Spend Their Down Time....

When most people (ya know, the non-crazy sort)

find themselves with some down time

they usually do things like read a book, watch a movie or go to the pool maybe.

 

Not my people.  Oh, no.  Not my people.

Lemme tell ya.

When my people aren't spending their time anthropomorphizing me,

they do things like this instead....

 

 

pretend like I'm something, I ain't.

Like a chihuahua or George Washington or a fennec fox of all things!

 

 

Oh, this one's the worst!  That dang blasted other dog that lives here.  (Really, my people should just get rid of that one.  She's old and really just good for nuthin' no more.)

A cat.

Who would turn a dog into a cat, I ask ya?  Can you insult me anymore than that?

Or a rabbit?  I eat those things for lunch...

well, at least I keep trying to.

 

 

Sometimes they like to pretend I don't even have any ears...

like a stinkin' reptile or somethin'.

And this one... come on... I don't even know what this one is...

a lamb, a basset hound, that muppet that plays the piano... who knows with these people.

OH, oh, this is real rich... hows about a barmaid at Oktoberfest.

Seriously people, I don't even have thumbs!

 

So there ya have it.

This is my life.

Someone get me outta here, for cryin' out loud!

 

PS:  If as you read this ridiculous post it sounded like I was a wise guy from the Bronx...

I apologize.  The lady, she's been listening to the second Dark Tower by Stephen King and for some reason she thinks I should sound like Eddie Dean.

(I'm really surprised she didn't make me drop the F-bomb.)

I mean come on.  Everyone in this house knows I sound like Butters from South Park.

Geesh!

 

 



He's Found His Wings

Tuesday, August 14th

 

Me:  Will you be home this weekend or are you going to your dad's?

Him:  Umm, yes, I'll be home.

Me:  Okay, then I'll cook this weekend.

Him:  Okay.

 

*********

 

Wednesday, August 15th

 

Me:  Hey, we'll go up to IKEA Saturday and get you a new desk chair.

Him:  Umm, I might be moving Saturday.

Me:  What?!

Him:  Yeah, Friday or Saturday.

Me:  But... *sputter*...but....

Him:  I told you the move in date was the 17th.

Me:  Yeah, but you told me yesterday that you were going to be home this weekend.  Are you just moving your stuff in and then coming back home until Monday?

Him:  No.  I'm sorry.

Me:  Can we help you move?

Him:  I don't need any help.  Patricia is going with me and we're using her car.

Me:  But.......

 

*SOB*

 

Him:  Mother.  Mother, it's okay.  I'm not going to forget about you.  I'm going to come back and visit and we can meet for lunch some days.

*SIGH*

I love you, Mom.

Me:  But, this is it... your time here is over... you won't be coming back to live here ever again... you should let us come... we should be there to see you off... this is a big thing...

Him:  Mother, it's not like I'm getting on a ship to sail away on a ten year expedition to the Arctic.  I'm only going to be an hour away.  It's like I'm going fishing for the day.  That's all.

 

 

And then he held me close to his chest and comfort patted me while I sobbed,

just like I used to do for him when his little boy heart was hurting.

 



This One Is For Robin

Once upon a time in a land called Tejas...

The Farmboy came home one day carrying on about wanting/needing a little Jack Russell he could call his own. He knew what he wanted... a little girl with a smooth coat.  So we decided to go look and see what we could find.

We stopped by our animal shelter first, not thinking they would have one.  We walked in and the first dog we laid eyes on, in the first kennel in the shelter.... there she was.  She was sitting there, next to the front of the kennel, playing her shivering, little match stick girl role.  He stuck his hand in to let her smell him and she laid her head in the palm of his hand.  It was love at first touch.

She had just come in and wasn't available for 5 days.  We went to a few pet shops to see what they had and only found wire haired boys whose demeanors were very similar to flying a kite in a tornado.

We talked more about her and both said the name Daisy at the same time.  It was just meant to be.

On the day she was up for adoption he was in Austin, so I got up at an indecent hour. I camped out front of the shelter with a chair, a book and my mom brought me plenty coffee.  It's "first come, first serve" around here.

  Ahh, what one will do for her Farmboy.

   

After being there an hour, a family of three showed up, sat around out front for about 30 minutes and then asked which dog I had come for.  I told them.  They left.  It was probably good I got there first... they had a four year old and it turns out our Daisy is too high strung to be fond of children.

When he called me later in the day and asked if I got her, I told him no... another couple had gotten there before me.  He didn't believe me.  I'm the world's worst liar.  But he played along as he always does.

We've had her for 7 or 8 years now and our sweet, little, meek, $10 Daisy May has cost us thousands of dollars because she used to pick fights with my baby... the 50 lb., black and white beast we fondly refer to as Lucyfur.

But the Farmboy got his dog.

And to this day is still trying to make it love him, as much as it loves me.

The End

Thank You



Thank you, to all of you who have left me a comment or sent an email and to everyone who has kept my family in their thoughts and prayers with the passing of my Mother-In-Law.

They have all been greatly accepted with open hearts.

She and I didn't always see eye to eye.

(and both of us could be called bull-headed)

When the Farmboy and I were dating, his mother and I didn't like each other at all.

She thought I wasn't good enough for her son.

I thought she was just a mean, old woman with a chip on her shoulder.

After she lost her husband, the Farmboy and I decided she should come live with us.

It took a lot of adjusting for both her and me.

Then one day we blew up on each other.

It was nasty.

So nasty it had the Farmboy tip-toeing backwards from the room so as not to be pulled into the middle of it.

It ended with me calling her a "crazy, old lady" and her calling me a "crazy bitch."

Then we both burst into laughter and tears and hugged.

The ice had melted.

She finally respected me.

She was an incredibly strong woman.

Independent.  Hard working.  As giving as a person can be.

One day when I was whining about something or other that she had done to irritate me, my father looked at me and said,

"You listen to her.  She's lived a long, hard life and is full of wisdom because of it."

I couldn't see it at the time.

But this last year I've spent with her, I've seen it as clear as day.  It may not have always been within her words, but it was definitely within her actions.

She raised two amazing boys and loved them more than anything.

And she gave me an unexpected gift when she died.

She brought my Sister-In-Law and I closer together.

Unexpected because we were already so close, we didn't think we could get any closer.

I used to joke with her that she wasn't allowed to die on my watch.

She would cackle and tell me she most definitely would.

I'm sure she thought she got the last word in, because that is exactly what she did.

But by now she probably knows she was wrong.

I feel more than honored to have been by her side when she left us.

Honored to have seen her off on her next journey, letting her know how much we all love her.

As I sit here now and write this, I can hear her fussing at me,

"Stop your crying over me, Weezie, and go make something pretty!"

So that's what I'm going to do.

I Will Love You For Always

I am standing upon the seashore.  A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean.  She is an object of beauty and strength.  I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then someone at my side says:  "There, she is gone!"

"Gone where?"

Gone from my sight.  That is all.  She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear the load of living freight to her destined port.

Her diminished size is in me, not in her.  And just at the moment when someone at my side says:  "There, she is gone!"  There are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout:  "Here she comes!"

And that is dying.

~Henry Van Dyke

Camping Vs. Glamping

Some like to camp.

Others like to glamp.

Some prefer to prepare their meals in the dirt.

Others prefer to prepare their meals on a well stocked camp kitchen.

Some like to eat their freeze dried camp food out of a bag, on their lap.

Others like to eat their cast iron skillet, camp fire cooked food on pretty enamel camp dishes, at a table.

Some prefer regular ol' roasted marshmallows.

Others prefer a perfectly roasted strawberry marshmallow nestled within the center of a brownie.

Some like to sleep on the ground in a wadded up sleeping bag.

Others like sleeping in comfort.

Both prefer to bring at least one of their pets along

and take lots of pictures.

And everybody likes having a great time.

Can you guess which I prefer?

Camping or Glamping

Because Even Tough Girls Bake

The Graduate has been dating the same girl for over a year now.

We fondly refer to her as

That Girl.

At first we wondered.  

But it didn't take long for her to become part of the family.

(I have tucked her safely and snugly under my wing with the boys.)

We wondered because she is the complete opposite from The Graduate's last girlfriend.

You see, That Girl is a rough and tumble tomboy.

She plays soccer (one of the best on her team), she plays shoot'm up video games (she shoots better than my boys), she's the first to jump head first into a stupid teenage prank (thankfully The Graduate is level headed.)

That Girl is going into the Marines at the end of summer.

Even though I think she is much better suited to teach music to children with special needs.

See, she may be a rough and tumble tomboy, but she has a very soft side to her too.

Next to those children, part of that soft side includes baking and sharing.

That Girl's birthday was last August.

And I, being the Ambassador of the Perpetually Late, was nearly 8 months behind in making and giving her her birthday gift.

Fitting, don't you think?

(That's me, by the way, not her.  And though I'm not a tough girl by any means, feisty and bull headed at times maybe but not tough, those are my cute camo kicks.)

Along with the apron, I decided she needed a tough cupcake recipe book too.

Quite honestly though, I hope I don't receive any wasabi cupcakes any time soon.

A big {belated} Happy Birthday to That Girl.

p.s.

One should really remember to check her ISO settings before shooting a gazillion photos.

I apologize for any graininess that my cause you to go cross-eyed.

Spontaneous Hearts

The Farmboy says I'm not spontaneous like I used to be.

He might be right.



Around midnight last night I woke up and noticed it had begun to snow.

My exclamation of "OH!" woke the Farmboy.

We both ended up with our noses pressed to the window watching the big, white flakes come down.

It was very nice to see after three days of hard, cold ice everywhere.

When we woke up this morning it was still snowing and everything was blanketed in soft, fluffy white.

The Farmboy doesn't think I'm spontaneous anymore.

But he might be wrong.

Because I spontaneously decided we needed to have a family photo shoot today in the snow.

 

Then I decided it needed to be a Valentine photo shoot.

And you can't have a Valentine photo shoot without hearts.

So I quickly whipped some up.

And now that they are done being used as props,

 they are hanging in the dining room windows.

Where they used to hang...

when they were curtains.

I hope you have a beautiful {and warm} weekend!

Sunday Morning Ride

We are a bike riding family. Well, except for the Graduate… not his thing… but the rest of us really enjoy it.
Sunday, being deemed as the Farmboy’s day (i.e. Father’s day), he proclaimed it a bike riding morning.
So three of us got up early and set off across town.

We made a pit stop at Starbucks. Seems one of us is not as friendly as they normally are, until they have a morning coffee….
Or so says a Farmboy. I can’t imagine who he could possibly be talking about though.
From there we headed over to the nearest park.

Not only did we have our coffee to enjoy, but there were also laughing ducks to listen to,

views of the three ponds to capture,

fish to contemplate,

and Cottonwood faeries to watch dance across the sky.
Most definitely a good morning.

How did you spend your special guy’s day?