Secret Love of Coffee Mugs

Secretly, deep down inside, I think my new-found love of coffee these last few years may be due in part to a love of coffee mugs. They're so colorful, arty, ceramic-ey, cute and fun. It's hard not to pick up new ones when I see so many cool ones out there. Here are a few of my favorites:

Quack!

Hello Phillip

I had a garden. I no longer have a garden. Too much work. Too many weeds. Weeds won. 'Nuff said.

But I still have pots. Nice big pots on the deck where I occasionally try to plant tasty things. Things that are so tasty that a groundhog will risk life and limb to climb up onto the deck. He will clamber right over to the pots that are directly outside the back door. He will hoist his hefty haunches right up into the pot and sit right in the middle, munching on my lettuce! Munching it as if he has every right to be there! Little hog!

We've named him Phil Clover DeGroundhog. The neighbors know when he's in the pots when they hear me yelling out "Phillip Clover DeGroundhog!".

He's eaten all the spinach, despite the chicken wire around the pots. He's eaten the pea plants down to the ground. He's eaten every sunflower sprout that dared show its head above the dirt.

He even managed to get his grossly oversized groundhog teeth on my lettuce. My lettuce that is surrounded by iron fence pieces AND chicken wire! Apparently he is not only a groundhog, he is also an acrobat capable of leaping and spinning over the fences and landing deftly smack dab in the center of my lettuce. Goodbye sweet lettuce. Who knew that those ponderous, squinting, waddling creatures were so clever - those lumbering little beasties. So now I'm torn between building some sort of lettuce cage out of 2x4s and wire or just letting him have the damn lettuce. I haven't decided yet which option I prefer.

Here's a picture of him when he was still post-winter slim:

On the plus side, he doesn't seem to like tomato plants. I planted several and so far they are untouched. He also does not like oregano or chives. However he is a big fan of birdseed!

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Whistling Nonchalantly

Heron's always look to me like some huge prehistoric flying creature. They're big, they fly rather slowly and they make it look like a lot of work. When I see one out of the corner of my eye I always suspect I've been thrown back in time which causes me to duck and hide in the bushes before it's razor sharp beak-teeth rip me to shreds, or before I'm run down by a rampaging Tyrannosaurus Rex.

Then I realize it's just a heron and I stand back up, brush off my knees, whistle nonchalantly and continue on down the road.



Rising up, wings flap
Huge prehistoric creature
A heron in flight

Quack!

The Chipmunk Thump

As I've mentioned in the past, we have a gerbil. Sweet little Sandy is a cheerful, funny little fellow. His most endearing quality is his reluctance to bite us, even when he really wants to. We all appreciate that about him. We've never gotten anything worse than a gentle nibble.

But one of his other, almost as endearing qualities is the way he thumps his feet. When he's scared, excited or sometimes just bored, he'll start to thump his fuzzy little back feet. Thu-thump, thu-thump, thu-thump. It's very cute.

As I've probably also mentioned in the past we have a bird feeder out back that attracts a wide variety of birds, many appropriately-named squirrels (Rusty, Buffy, Randy (short for Random squirrel), Long John Squirrelver (with his one eye - I really need to crochet that squirrel an eye patch!) and Skrawny), and best of all, chipmunks. Chipmunks are so cute! And they keep the cat entertained too. The cat has come to know that when Mommy starts talking in a high-pitched voice out the back door that some cute tasty little critter is present. The cat will race over to the door and stare out, tail twitching.

The other day as a cute little chipmunk sat in a pile of bird seed, stuffing his cheeks, he saw me step up to the door. He perked up, ready to run and I saw his little back foot lift and thump down several times. It was so cute. I had no idea chipmunks did that! When he saw that I wasn't coming out he relaxed and stuffed a few more pounds of seeds into his cheeks. But whenever I moved, he would give a thump or two, a warning that danger was nearby and he got ready to run.

Eventually, when his cheeks were so full that he could barely keep from toppling over onto his face, he scampered off.

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Some Days It's Better Than Others.

You know, I never really enjoyed or drank coffee until the last few years. I always preferred cocoa or nothing when I wanted a warm drink. But these last few years I've embraced coffee like a long lost friend.

And although I enjoy a cup just about every day, in a perfect world where calories didn't count, I would still be loyal to cocoa. There's nothing better than a cup of chocolatey, creamy, hot cocoa! But since calories do count, and I can have a cup of coffee with cream and sugar for 100 calories or less (versus 200 or more for (decent) cocoa), I stick to coffee most of the time. And most of the time it's very tasty.

But every once in a while, as I'm drinking my daily cup at work, I grimace, finish the bitter concoction in one big swallow and rush for the breath mints. Some days it's better than others. 

Quack!

Red Squirrels and Blue Ones and Green Ones . . .

We have several squirrels that routinely visit the bird feeder. I'm not sure exactly how many since they all look exactly alike, but it's a bunch. And when I say they all look exactly alike I'm exaggerating somewhat. We've got Rusty - he's the one with the rusty color fur across his back and in his arm pits. And then there's Buffy. He has the ears with the buff colored backs.

But wait, Rusty also has buff ear-backs. And so does that one. And that one.

And, is that Rusty? Or does Rusty have more red fur?

Needless to say, the other squirrel is named Randy. Randy as in 'Random Squirrel that is indistinguishable from every other squirrel'. 'Randy' really refers to all squirrels.

So, if we have one squirrel at the feeder, it can certainly be Rusty, because there is no one else to compare him to. But as soon as another squirrel shows up, guaranteed to be one with buff ear-backs and plenty of rust-colored fur, then suddenly we have Randy1 and Randy2.

But that doesn't stop us from debating endlessly as to whether the visiting squirrels are really Randy, or if one
is Rusty, or Buffy.

If only I could apply fur dye's from 20 feet away! They I'd be able to tell them apart.

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Grill Set Nut Tightly! And Let Slip the Dogs of War!

  It seems that lately when we purchase some random household appliance, it comes with instructions that are barely coherent.

For example, some recent instructions warned me not to "pull the cord constrainedly." Whatever you do, don't do that! Or the consequences will be dire. My problem is that I don't know what that means so how can I avoid doing it? That may be the very thing I do each morning as I rise. I have been known to approach the appliances and fondle the cords. Am I doing it constrainedly? I don't know. I just don't know!

And if you were instructed to "loose the set knob" what would you do? I can only assume this one is a typo and it should have read 'loosen the set knob', but what is a set knob? There was no diagram or explanation beyond that phrase. Maybe it means to let it loose, like 'set the knob loose', set it free. If it really wants to be a part of the appliance, it will come back.

And my favorite - how about "secure the rear grill by grill set nut tightly." What?!? I'm so confused! Did Yoda write this? But even Yoda is intelligible. "Grill set nut tightly?" I can only assume it means to tighten a nut on the grill. But what if it means to toss a 'set nut' on the grill and close it tightly while I cook it? Or maybe, or maybe, I don't know. I can't even begin to guess at that one.

But despite that, it wasn't really all that complicated to put it together. I prefer to follow instructions just so I don't end up doing it three times, but in this case I was much better off just going by instinct. Then I didn't have to worry about grilling anything, or setting anything loose and hoping it returned. I just wanted my fan to work!

I'll grill your set nut tightly! And I may even tighten it constrainedly! Watch out!

Quack!

Maybe Someday

Sometimes I shop at the Rescue Mission store. If you have the time to sift through all the old, ratty, worn-out stuff, sometimes you can find something nice. You can also find some nicely broken in jeans. Well, I was in there the other day and I was very excited to see some size 4 long jeans. I have trouble finding jeans long enough and the smaller the size, the less likely you are to find them in a tall size. 14 talls are all over the place, but anything under size 10, you're hard pressed to find a tall version. It's either average or short. But there were 3 or 4 different pairs in 4 long. They were in great shape - looked like they had never been worn. I figure that someone bought them new and put them in their closet expecting that they would fit into them some day. You know how that is. "As soon as I lose those 10 pounds . . . ". 

So I bought a pair. Very exciting find!

And maybe someday I'll fit into them.

 Quack!

Birds Have Knees, Right?

We have a fan in our bathroom. The vent is on the side of the house above the garage. Every year we get starlings nesting in it. We've never been able to block it off because it's very high on the roof above the garage. So even if we were to get a very long ladder, we would have to prop it on the slanted garage roof. No thanks! I suppose we may be able to get to it from inside - you know, dismantle the closet at the far end of the house and squeeze up into the tiny hole in the ceiling. Crawl the length of the house on the rafters without falling through the ceiling. Get to the vent at the end and somehow block things off from the birds, without breaking the fan/vent. Sounds like a good time. So we ignore it.

And every spring we hear the thunking each time the mother bird flies in. I think it's her knees banging into the house as she flies into the tight space. Birds have knees, don't they? Then of course there's the chirping. The excited, hey-Mom-is-back-with-bugs! Feed-me-feed-me-no-me-me-me type chirping. She'll stuff a bug in a mouth and fly off. Everything is quiet for about 40 seconds, then the cycle begins again. I try not to think too much about the nest and what's living in it, and crawling around, other than the baby birds.

Well, this year, one of the little fledgings apparently fell from the nest. We found it skittering around in the garage, all bones and half-grown feathers and tiny peeps. After a few attempts I managed to catch it and release it out in the yard. And then of course, as is the way of things, the neighborhood cat showed up. The one that likes to eat living things. So, I caught it again and found a slightly safer place for it. Then we had to leave. I'm sure that as soon as we drove away the neighborhood cat found it, played with it for a little while, then ate it. But I try not to think about it. I never did find a pile of feathers and bones so I can continue to deny it. I can tell myself that its mother continues to feed it and keep it happy until which time it will learn to fly to safety. That's right. Sure.

But we did manage to keep it safe for a little while and got a few pictures of it besides. It was rather cute in an awkward, big-beaked, ratty-feathered kind of way. Snickers really liked it and even got to hold it for a little while.

 
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Wing Bits and Fairy Dust

I was talking a walk the other day and noticed there was an unusual amount of butterflies around. These were dark brown with orange markings, about 1.5 - 2 inch wings and they were all over the place! I started counting them, but lost count after a couple hundred thousand. If I were a different sort of person I would know exactly what sort of butterfly they were and what they were doing out in such numbers, but I'm n . . . wait a minute. I'm exactly that sort of person. Why haven't I looked this up? I have no idea. Laziness I expect.

But, like I said, I was walking and from down the road I could see a butterfly approaching. It was moving quickly in a straight line with only a little bit of butterfly bounce. As it zoomed in I got a little nervous, after all butterflies are large bugs with antennae and many legs, even if they are pretty. But, not wanting to look like a fool I refused to duck and dodge for a mere butterfly, despite it's homicidal and suicidal tendencies. I stood my ground. And then CRASH! Ooof! The kamikaze, dive-bombing butterfly slammed into my chest, exploding into nothing but wing bits and fairy dust.

OK, I made some of that up. Really, just prior to the grizzly ending the butterfly veered off crazily. Apparently they have some sort of echolocation abilities, like bats. Either that or they have terrible eyesight and quick reflexes. (ie, they don't actually see me until they are right on top of me, but are quick enough to veer off prior to impact.)

And this happened several times. I suspect I may have been invisible and didn't know it.

Quack!

Laughter Follows Me Wherever I Go

  Remember this post from way back where I talked about my pan pants -those awesomely warm, yet ridiculously funny looking pants that I would wear around the house? Well, speaking of ridiculous, not only do I own pan pants, but I also own a Couch Cozy!

Now, you know all about Snuggies, right? Everyone had a Snuggie a few years ago. Well, in my opinion Snuggies have some major failings. You can't walk around in a Snuggie - first it opens, exposing your back (hopefully clothed) to the cold air, then it falls right off. And those sleeves are way too big - flapping around and getting into stuff like soup, batter, dirt, flames, etc. A Snuggie is really only good if you're sitting still. And, as you may know, I rarely sit still. So a Snuggie is useless to me.

I tried one on one of the rare occasions when I was sitting on the couch watching TV and it involved an incredible amount of shifting and squirming trying to get it to stay put on my shoulders. After each squirm, I had to get my hands back under where it was warm. Then a shoulder would slip off. When I finally got it in place I froze - if I didn't shift so much as a millimeter, it would stay, right? But really, how long can I stay frozen in one position? It's only a matter of minutes before a cat, or a child, runs across my lap, sniffs my hair or body slams me, and then it's all Snuggie and hair and flailing limbs careening all over the couch. It's not pretty.

But a Couch Cozy is awesome! I have no idea where I got this thing or if the name is its official name, or something I made up. I've had it about 10 years now I guess. It's like a blanket sleeper, but different. The difference lies in the configuration of the legs. Where a blanket sleeper has two legs - like pants, a Couch Cozy is just a bag with sleeves and foot holes (sounds attractive, no?) It has elastic bands at the wrists and ankles and a zipper up the front. When I wear it I look like the biggest, craziest, flying squirrel you've ever seen. And did I  mention that it's bright red? Yes, it is! There is no missing me when I'm wearing my Couch Cozy.

Child: Have you seen Mom?
Father: Hmmm. I saw a big red flying squirrel in the kitchen, but I haven't seen your mother (at least not that I'm willing to admit). Check the basement.

Its fleece, so it's incredibly warm. After about five minutes with it on I usually tear it off (much to the relief of my family) panting and lamenting how hot it is! But even better, it's got to be the single most ridiculous thing I have ever worn in my life. I chuckle just thinking about it. I giggle whenever I see it hanging in the closet, I chortle when I touch the fuzzy fleeciness of it. I laugh as I slip my feet into the foot holes. I guffaw as I zip the zipper up to my neck. I roflmao when I catch sight of myself in the mirror with it on.

And for some unexplainable reason, when I wear it, laughter seems to follow me wherever I go.

Quack!