Duh

OR . . .

What to do when you cannot remember what you came to the computer to do.

I was reading in bed tonight, and I got the notion that I needed my computer for some odd reason. So, off I toddled to the living room to fetch it, leaving my Kindle reading behind. Erma Bombeck is a riot, by the way, even if so many of her colloqialisms are outdated and her references are less than timely for this decade. Hey, maybe that’s it. Maybe I wanted to look up one of her funny references. Who are Damon and Pythias, anyway? Okay, so I did look that one up. Their relationship has to do with the ultimate in true friendship and loyalty in Greek mythology. Duh. Why didn’t I remember that from my seventh grade mythology class? Um, probably because that was, like, a century ago. Oh, and as a side comment, why is it that we can study Greek gods in public schools, but we cannot learn about the one true God in those same schools?

Anyway, upon firing up my laptop, I could no longer remember what I had wanted the silly thing for. Don’t even suggest I should take up paper and pen before approaching the computer. I have tried that route with very little success. Even with a pen sitting right beside me, by the time the tip touches paper, my brain is empty. It is like there is a thought vacuum hovering above me that just waits for me to have something valuable up there in my noggin, and then, sluuuurp, its gone forever. Burp. At least it could say excuse me.

So, what to do while I wait patiently for that thought to magically reappear? It seems wasteful to just turn the machine off right away, only to have to turn it back on again in two minutes when the thought returns. If it should return, that is.

That was over two hours ago, and here I still sit. Waiting. Waiting. Hm hm hm hm hm hm hm. Somebody play the Jeopardy theme song please.

What did I do with those two-plus hours, you ask? Well, I will tell you. I decided to catch up on some reading. I have been neglecting the blogs I follow, and I have been feeling guilty about it. How can I expect you all to follow me, if I am not a diligent follower myself?

Sew a Fine Seam is a cheerful blog. I have recently discovered her and have enjoyed all I have read so far.

Then, I like to play blog roulette sometimes, too. If you will notice, there is a link at the top of this page that says, “Next Blog.” It will randomly take you to different blogs. Some end up being real dogs, but others are great. That is how I found Sew a Fine Seam, after all.

I read through several of these random offerings, and I discovered something interesting.

It is not just me.

No seriously. I am not the only one who has scattered thoughts, who strays off topic often, whose creative inspirations often must be torn out or erased and redone. I am not the only one who longs to be knee deep in the intricate details of a project, yet only allow myself time for a cursory onceover. I am not the only one who dreams big and falls short, then gets up to dream big again. I am not the only one who gets bogged down in thinking too far ahead when I should be concentrating on the here and now.

I am not the only one who enjoys the process, sometimes more than the end result.

For me

Joy is in the doing.

Joy is in the dreaming.

Joy is in those crazy, scattered thoughts.

Joy is in the details.

Joy is in today.

For you, Joy is where you determine. Where is your Joy today?

Chasing Squirrels

I realized this morning, in a rather rude fashion, that I had not posted any Pug funnies lately. You see, our home is full of Pugs, three to be exact, though when they are underfoot, it seems like there’s more. A whole lot more!

Our Tinker Belle, famous (or infamous???) now because of all this exposure, is the youngest at almost four. She is a riot, especially when it comes to her toys. Being very toy-aggressive and possessive, we cannot even say the “S” word in our house. In fact, we have had to resort to spelling s-q-u-i-r-r-e-l, even when we see one in the yard, even though, thankfully, she has never tangled with a live one. She is just obsessed about the squeaky, furry, stuffing-less ones we get at Petco. In fact, she loves the squeakers so much that her sharp, little teeth have usually punctured all of them by the end of the first day. The last toy Ken bought for Tink had at least 20 squeakers in it, and that one barely lasted two days. I’ve looked online for industrial-strength squeakers for devil dogs, but, alas, I cannot find any.

Oh, I just realized that I have not told you about my rude awakening this morning. And no it wasn’t a slobbery squirrel in the face, though she has done that to me before. At times, to get the dog to go to bed, we have to hide her toys. Last night, Ken hid her squirrel in the bathroom, hanging on the showerhead. Well, it doesn’t take a dog with an awesome sniffer long at all to figure out where her toys have gone. This morning, she was in the tub, on the shower seat, screaming and crying like a wounded animal—all in an attempt to get at the showerhead and her beloved squirrel.

And during all of this, where are her buddies, Max and Suzie? Ignoring her, of course!

Why, just check out that look of boredom!

If only she were a few inches taller . . .

Now, I love my dog, but that stinky squirrel ain’t going anywhere near my mouth—ever. Ken must be crazy.

 

Walk tall, carry pointy chompers.

And if that doesn’t work, sneak up on it from below.

Maybe jumping at it will work.

Ken is driving Tink crazy with a tiny whistle.

Hey, she finally got it!

To the victor go the spoils.

A good time was had by all.

Gardener’s Dilemma

My fingers are already itching to dig in the dirt, and it is only January. It is about this time of year, every year, that I start to plan what I would like to plant. Some years, we have planted huge gardens, with bok choy, broccoli, shallots, artichokes, peppers, and all the usual suspects. Always tomatoes. One year, we planted heirloom tomatoes, and they over-produced. I’ve never seen such huge tomatoes. Why, a few filled quart jars on their own—one per jar! I wouldn’t be surprised if we still didn’t have some of those canned beauties in the far reaches of the basement.

A few years, when I felt my worst, we only planted tomatoes. Those were sad years, when I barely had the strength or desire to pick our berries, either. Speaking of our berries, we had marionberries, boysenberries, raspberries, and even strawberries for a while. Also three types of apples and plums and peaches too. What a glorious garden we had when we had our house, with beautiful raised beds.

This year, I must curtail my gardening urges, for we will most likely be gone before harvest time. The wheels will roll in about 114 days, according to the counter.

Never fear, though. I have been contemplating how to garden in little pots. I have also been contemplating where to keep them in the Raven. Hmm. One solution might be slightly larger pots which could be placed outside when we land somewhere and which we haul in the back of the Jeep. We must ponder all these thoughts. At least little pots with herbs and lettuce. Someone once suggested we get one of those tomato hangers and hang it in our shower. Yikes! Now there’s an interesting solution.

Always remember, for every problem, there is a solution. It may not be convenient or normal, or even logical. Sometimes you just have to stand on your head to see what needs to be done!