An Aries (Who Knows Some Stuff)
I have a recipe for chocolate pound cake that has never failed me. Until tonight. Post culinary-disaster conversation:
Me: This never happened, and I’ve been baking this cake for thirty-five years!
Tim: Thirty-five years? That’s a long time. What are you using, an Easy-Bake Oven?
Earlier, I was Riversitting while Tim went out to get dog food. I got preoccupied in the Home Office when I realized that I heard a dog chewing something and River was no longer in the room with me.
Continue reading “More “awwwwww” moments”
All the wonderful essential oils that I use in my practice (massage and various other voodoo that I do) are in my massage room which is in Tim’s apartment. This means I don’t encounter them on a daily basis unless I bring some over to the Home Office.
Today, I was next to a bookcase in my dining room when wonderful aromas alerted me that something good was nearby. I realized that a little atomizer of a flea-repelling blend I’d made for the dogs was sitting there, sending out a faint hint of lavender and cedar. I couldn’t resist, spraying some on my hands then putting them to my face for a big whiff.
What I’d forgotten was the carrier I used for those oils: apple cider vinegar. Now I smell like an unusual coleslaw, even after washing my hands twice.
There’s a Certain Someone who probably doesn’t read my Live Journal, but definitely reads Tim’s. Maybe Tim will link this entry in one of his own.
There’s a Certain Someone who sent FOUR bags of Bar-B-Q Fritos™ to The Compound. Perhaps he meant to send them all to Tim, but Tim is sweet and generous and let me put two of the bags in my house.
Thank you, Certain Someone! You are now in the Bar-B-Q Frito™/Sally Struthers Hall of Fame with Greg, Lindsey, and Rhonda because of your great kindness and generosity!
Hell, no, I’m not talking about my menses. Like anyone would care about that.
Jim will arrive tomorrow for a part-fun/part-work five days. This has, of course, sent everyone at The Compound into a cleaning frenzy. It’s not that we normally live in squalor. It’s just that we want everything to be fresh and sparkly for the people we love.
But if they came more often, we’d have to maintain things better around here. Which is, I think, a GREAT argument for our out-of-town friends to get their butts here.
Anyway, things are clean. The yard looks good. The pantry is STOCKED BEYOND ALL REASON. Because planning a novel is hard work that requires plenty of snacks.
Remember how Tom “fixed” the leak under the bathroom sink?
Continue reading “Leavin’ on a jet plane”
I should have been suspicious.
Continue reading “He’s tearing me apaaaaaart…”
You asked if my dogs are housebroken, and they are. But I love to tell their stories, so I’m shamelessly taking this opportunity.
Continue reading “For ForestHaven: the story of my dogs”
Scene 1 from the Home Office window:
Tim and River walking up the driveway in a light drizzle so River can make the yard his own personal toilet.
Scene 2 from the Home Office window:
Tim and River jumping puddles as they scurry down the driveway when the drizzle quickly becomes a downpour.
Flashback scene:
Earlier today, as I was cleaning up three dogs’ own personal toilets, Guinness snagged a rat, who promptly squealed in terror. I shrieked and Margot hustled to get a piece of that, then Guinness lost her grip. I don’t know what happened to the rat, but both dogs seem fine.
Players:
Rat.
Guinness.
Margot.
