Didn't know it was my birthday wish but it came true: The dogs did not get skunked this morning!
Before I take Abby for a long walk up the road and back, Stella wants to go up the lane and around the field for a spin so I take the dogs for that walk first, which lets Abby have a big run before being on the leash.
We didn't even make it to the end of the road this morning because I spied a large skunk waddling through the field. Abby was barrelling her way up the road looking for birds to chase but she came when I called and no one else saw the skunk. Obviously, the birthday gods were watching over me today.
We're going out for Chinese food tonight (hey, Aunt Gail, wanna join us?!) after we run errands in town. My birthday is not a big deal this year; we're more focused on the ACNA awards gala dinner tomorrow night. Winning Best Specialty Column would be the best present.
Friday, May 10, 2013
Wednesday, May 8, 2013
Everything is due May 15 and I'm away this weekend for the ACNA gala dinner (fingers crossed, please, that my column wins!) so the best I can do for an information update is to show you photos of the garage, before and after. My brain is too full of grant applications and conference abstracts and getting a website put together that there is no room for creative thought to spit out something interesting.
Yes, this is as exciting as life gets around here right now. I'm glued to my office chair for now but the long weekend...I have five days away from the paper and both Mum and Dwayne are away, Georgia and fishing trip respectively, so I'm going nothing but reading and gardening the WHOLE weekend.
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| The woodpeckers were eating this one! |
Yes, this is as exciting as life gets around here right now. I'm glued to my office chair for now but the long weekend...I have five days away from the paper and both Mum and Dwayne are away, Georgia and fishing trip respectively, so I'm going nothing but reading and gardening the WHOLE weekend.
Thursday, May 2, 2013
Who, I ask, drives into the city for a follow-up appointment with his surgeon and returns home with a mounted bear head?
Who, I ask, would do something so bizarre and weird and just so bloody ---- aaargh!
My husband, that's who.
And he wonders why I write about him .....
This is Dwayne, my dearly beloved, with his new best friend, Jack. Oh, yes, he already has a name.
"If you write a column about this, I get to hang him in the living room."
Oh, you think. Holy freakin' seriously, how could I not write a column about this? I had to take moose antlers down from the wall in the bedroom when I first moved in.
Only a country boy would ride along with this beside him in his truck and think it was a perfectly reasonable thing to bring home from the city.
Who, I ask, would do something so bizarre and weird and just so bloody ---- aaargh!
My husband, that's who.
And he wonders why I write about him .....
This is Dwayne, my dearly beloved, with his new best friend, Jack. Oh, yes, he already has a name.
"If you write a column about this, I get to hang him in the living room."
Oh, you think. Holy freakin' seriously, how could I not write a column about this? I had to take moose antlers down from the wall in the bedroom when I first moved in.
Only a country boy would ride along with this beside him in his truck and think it was a perfectly reasonable thing to bring home from the city.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Monday, April 29, 2013
Thursday, April 25, 2013
After all my ranting, after all my bitching, after all my "she doth protest too much" protesting...
...I have a Twitter account.
I read a very convincing essay on a women's blogging site that basically spoke to me as, If you want to get published, GET OVER your resistance to platform.
So I got over it.
And got addicted. Traded resistance for total submersion.
"Are you tweeting again?" my fully supportive, deeply encouraging, totally neglected husband asked me just five minutes ago. (I wasn't; I was checking Facebook!)
Ever since I started thinking that I might need to consider the possibility of having a Twitter presence, I've been thinking about my Twitter name -- JewellofaWriter -- and when I signed on and that name was available, well, obviously that is a sign.
Now everyone thinks I've totally lost my mind but really, I was hurting no one but myself by resisting Twitter. If that's part of the plan to get publish, then bring it on.
Here's something else, though: Having experienced the rapid pace and addictive nature of Twitter, I can see why there are so many articles about meditation and why people need to do it and why more people are doing it. We need to rest our minds. We need a chance to de-Twitter, de-Facebook, de-... I've run out of ideas but you get my drift.
I've added another monkey to the playpen that is my mind. Not sure if I can handle it or not but damn if "JewellofaWriter" ain't catchy!
...I have a Twitter account.
I read a very convincing essay on a women's blogging site that basically spoke to me as, If you want to get published, GET OVER your resistance to platform.
So I got over it.
And got addicted. Traded resistance for total submersion.
"Are you tweeting again?" my fully supportive, deeply encouraging, totally neglected husband asked me just five minutes ago. (I wasn't; I was checking Facebook!)
Ever since I started thinking that I might need to consider the possibility of having a Twitter presence, I've been thinking about my Twitter name -- JewellofaWriter -- and when I signed on and that name was available, well, obviously that is a sign.
Now everyone thinks I've totally lost my mind but really, I was hurting no one but myself by resisting Twitter. If that's part of the plan to get publish, then bring it on.
Here's something else, though: Having experienced the rapid pace and addictive nature of Twitter, I can see why there are so many articles about meditation and why people need to do it and why more people are doing it. We need to rest our minds. We need a chance to de-Twitter, de-Facebook, de-... I've run out of ideas but you get my drift.
I've added another monkey to the playpen that is my mind. Not sure if I can handle it or not but damn if "JewellofaWriter" ain't catchy!
Monday, April 22, 2013
We lost a hen yesterday -- but Abby tried to save it!
Happened while Mum and I were in Moncton (yes, shopping -- but not buying).
When we arrived home at 4:30, I said, "I'd better take Abby for a walk."
Dwayne said, "Oh, she doesn't need one. Abby, tell your mother what you did."
Dwayne said he was on the front deck and knew Abby was around back. When he went to find her, though, she was gone. 'One-armed Willis' jumped on the four-wheeler and went back the road to search for her. Finally, she responded to his calling by rushing out of the woods at the top of the field.
Since I needed a walk, we went anyway and on our way back, I decided to cut through the field instead of going back down the lane. That's when I spied feathers sticking to the dried grass.
I knew them immediately: They were Blondie's feathers.
Blondie was one of our two Americauna hens who lay green-shelled eggs. Both Blondie and Annie (she's orange, named for Anne of Green Gables) are excellent layers. They also are hens who fly out of the pen to wander around the yard. Abby runs after the chickens but I can't tell if she's chasing or herding. She stops as soon as I tell her to but she's quick and I worry she'll hurt the chicken by making it run too fast.
When I found the feathers in the field, I looked at Abby and said, "Did you kill a chicken? Did you?"
She did not answer but she looked upset. Guilty?
I showed Dwayne the feathers as soon as I got back to the house.
"Fox," he said.
"But maybe Abby -- "
"Nope. That's why she disappeared. She was chasing the fox."
She was trying to save one of her chickens.
Happened while Mum and I were in Moncton (yes, shopping -- but not buying).
When we arrived home at 4:30, I said, "I'd better take Abby for a walk."
Dwayne said, "Oh, she doesn't need one. Abby, tell your mother what you did."
Dwayne said he was on the front deck and knew Abby was around back. When he went to find her, though, she was gone. 'One-armed Willis' jumped on the four-wheeler and went back the road to search for her. Finally, she responded to his calling by rushing out of the woods at the top of the field.
Since I needed a walk, we went anyway and on our way back, I decided to cut through the field instead of going back down the lane. That's when I spied feathers sticking to the dried grass.
I knew them immediately: They were Blondie's feathers.
Blondie was one of our two Americauna hens who lay green-shelled eggs. Both Blondie and Annie (she's orange, named for Anne of Green Gables) are excellent layers. They also are hens who fly out of the pen to wander around the yard. Abby runs after the chickens but I can't tell if she's chasing or herding. She stops as soon as I tell her to but she's quick and I worry she'll hurt the chicken by making it run too fast.
When I found the feathers in the field, I looked at Abby and said, "Did you kill a chicken? Did you?"
She did not answer but she looked upset. Guilty?
I showed Dwayne the feathers as soon as I got back to the house.
"Fox," he said.
"But maybe Abby -- "
"Nope. That's why she disappeared. She was chasing the fox."
She was trying to save one of her chickens.
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| The last of Blondie's feathers and the last egg she laid. |
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