Foxy!

Holy crap, you guys! A fox just jumped our 6-foot fence and strolled through the back yard. Right in the middle of the day. I didn't get a picture because I was too busy grabbing the dog and falling on the floor, trying to keep her from running out and picking a fight. I don't think she'd come out on top of that battle.

It looked just like this. Cute, right? But foxes "feed on rodents, rabbits, birds, and other small game." I'm pretty sure Ripley would look like a rodent to a hungry fox.

She can tear up a sunbeam though.

The Joke's On Me or The Long Con

Hello Internet! Remember back in April when I said I thought the universe might be trying to pull a long con on me? Well, for those of you not already in on the joke, I was right. Just a few days after the S.O. and I had a conversation about how it's probably all for the best for us to not have a baby, I find out that I just might be after all.

That's right Internet, I am pregnant, in the family way, knocked up, preggers, expecting, have a bun in the oven. And no, we didn't plan it to happen this way. It just did. In fact, the so-called fertility specialists told us we had about a 1 percent chance of getting pregnant "the natural way." (Those specialists can kiss my ass, by the way).

It's all quite scary and exciting at the same time, like a really good zombie movie or a roller coaster. In fact, it's almost exactly like those things, I'm scared, but having a good time and completely nauseous most of the time.

Don't try to tell me all the things that can go wrong. And I don't want to hear anyone's horror stories. I've heard enough of them anyway -- from the scary one-in-a-million birth defects they feature on TLC to the former co-worker who told my pregnant friend that the air in Colorado could cause a miscarriage (sorry, I have to breathe!) to all the things that can happen to my body during and after pregnancy. At this point, I kind of figure the universe will have it's joke and I will have a baby at 43. Hey, if the celebrities can do it, I can do it.

With all that said, I promise to try to not talk about it all the time. But once the baby is born, expect plenty of photos and stories about the adorable (and maddening) things that happen around our house.

Here's the first of the photos. Although I'm pretty sure that's a panda.

Dee-sgust-ting

You know what really, really sucks? When you think your significant other has canceled your home milk delivery -- which comes Thursday mornings -- only to discover Sunday evening that he hadn't. Sunday evening -- after four near-90-degree days -- you find that not only does milk not keep in a non-iced cooler, it will actually turn to cheese and blow the top off the jug.


WARNING: If you are drinking milk or eating cheese right now, look away!

The orange juice wasn't disgusting, just an additional loss.

The whole thing smelled like feet.

What a view

I went with the S.O. today on his flight lesson. It was very cool. Here I am pre-flight.

I took some cool pictures.

(Do you think aliens made the smiley face in the field?)

We flew over Garden of the Gods.

The S.O. performed a "touch and go" at the Colorado Springs, and we hit some turbulence.

Then I threw up.

Yes, it was awesome.

Yeah, I missed it

I was totally going to post something on my Fourth Anniversary of Blogging. But I missed it. I posted the two days after and mentioned nothing of the actual anniversary.
As I'm trying to be really productive today, I thought I would post something here -- something PROFOUND. But trying to be productive doesn't equal actually being productive. So, I give you:Monkey. This is the very first picture I posted on this blog. Monkey sits at the top of the Space Needle, and at one time, Monkey was going to travel the globe and post pictures of his *ramblings* (ala Flat Stanley). Unfortunately, Monkey got laid off from his full-time job and can't afford to travel. In fact, I'm pretty sure Monkey is living in a storage unit at the moment.

Gee, now I feel bad that Monkey didn't get to go to England with me, and he's never been skiing. I should probably figure out where the heck Monkey is. Or I could take Monkeey with me next time I travel. She's a bit more compact.Plus, she's waving and smiling, instead of sitting there with a dumb look on her face. I think it was the job Monkey had. I think it sucked the life out of him. I know it did me.

Here's to another four years of Rambling -- be it the kind of rambling I did here in this post or some actual rambling around the world. I hope you'll join me.

Me = Happy

This person

(who is awesome, by the way)
is going to spend three weeks with me next month. Yay!

Animal tales

My dear and talented friend Lisa over at Grandma's Briefs is sending her grandson a tortoise -- no not a real tortoise -- a very cute plastic tortoise. It's in honor of World Turtle Day and ... oh just go read her post (if you haven't already). Her post led her to ask: "Did you or anyone you know have a turtle when you were a kid?"

Which got me to thinking about the animals we did have as kids. Because with three boys in the house, it seemed someone was always bringing home some kind of orphaned animal (and by "someone" I mean "Joe.")

I have vague memories of baby rabbits and snapping turtles and squirrels, but the most memorable was JoJo the Raccoon. He was orphaned (don't ask me to tell you how he was "orphaned," please) at our friend's farm and came home with us. It was like something straight off Wild Kingdom. And he was the cutest damn thing. Look.

Yep. That's me -- cuddling a wild freaking animal. And before you think my parents were irresponsible, he was actually quite tame. We fed him grapes and scrambled eggs. And somewhere in my old photos, I have a picture of him inside my Barbie camper. (It was quite traumatic for Barbie and Ken. Ken lost an arm in the attack.)

Unfortunately, as raccoons reach sexual maturity, they become more and more aggressive. Knowing this, we took him to a local petting zoo well before that day came. Technically, it's a turn-of-the-century replica farm and it's still operating today. And technically, no one was actually allowed to pet JoJo or his buddy Ricky. But we were able to go and visit him a few more times before he was released into the wild.

Well, that's what I was told. And that's what I still choose to believe. If you have other theories about "released into the wild," I'd prefer you keep them to yourself.

Big Punch

That's for the woman with the big mouth. Don't I look like a big bad ass?

One More Big Brother

I have one more big brother to tell you about. Joe was the middle brother of the three. And I think he watched one too many episodes of the Brady Bunch and took that whole middle child thing to heart. He always thought he got the short end of the stick. But he was also the trouble maker.

"Santa" had to start wrapping the presents he left under the tree or Joe would wake up early and announce to everyone what they got. Joe would find everyone's Easter basket and tell us where they were hidden. Joe would pick fights with Jim who was bigger and wasn't allowed to fight back -- until Mom finally had enough and said go for it. Then Joe moved on to Mike, who fought like the Tasmanian Devil and could inflict damage. So it was on to me who was too small to fight back and just cried to Mom or yelled, "Quit it!" a million times.

But Joe was also the star, earning Athlete-of-the-Week honors from our local paper for his pitching skills. I remember hearing how his fast ball was on par with professionals. And he and his beautiful wife produced the first grandchild of the family. (And yes, I do love his wife. She's been in the family longer than not and probably deserves her own blog post. And I'm not just saying that to suck up in case she reads this. I mean it!)

This photo (taken many, many years ago) shows four generations of our family: My maternal grandmother, Mom, Joe and his daughter, Heather.

It's true we fought a lot. A lot. But I think I'm tough because of it. With three older brothers I learned not to take crap from anyone.

Big Nap

Irrefutable proof that I am not -- as originally believed -- queen of my castle.

Big Butts

Last summer, when my niece came to visit, we went to the zoo -- twice. As we looked through the photos, we found that many animals did not want their picture taken. So we ended up with a lot of pictures of critter rear ends. Then, it became our goal to photograph as many animal behinds as possible.

We got zebra butts:

And elephant butts:


















And, of course, hippo butts:

Big Fraidy Cat

Yesterday's weather produced nothing more than a small cloud burst and lots of rumbling. Ripley doesn't like thunder.As you can probably tell.

Big Picture

Happy Easter!

I took this photo -- and crafted the eggs in the basket -- back when I still wrote for a local parenting magazine. Ripley was mostly interested in the hard-boiled eggs in the basket. The other eggs were wooden.

Easter isn't really a big deal around here. We're not really religious and we don't have kids. And we're not pagan enough to celebrate the coming of spring. But it seemed like a good excuse to post this picture of Ripley -- like I need an excuse to post a picture of my dog.

Yeah, it's probably a little pathetic. Don't judge.

A Big Push

It's been a while since I've been out here blogging. Little updates on Facebook? Sure. But nothing big. So, when I got the e-mail from NaBloPoMo that April's theme is BIG, I thought I should go for it.

Last time I tried to blog every day for a month, I made it. That was back in November. Since then, you've gotten to read about my dog's run-in with a vicious wild feline and her recovery, but little else. Speaking of which, she's doing much better.You can see her wounds are healed and the hair is growing back. She's wearing her normal collar again. But still likes to lay as close to me as she can get. To paraphrase Groucho Marx, if she were any closer, she'd be in back of me.

For a few weeks after the incident, Ripley didn't want to go outside by herself. She was pretty gun shy -- or cat shy. But now, she's back to her old self, barking at the neighbors and the neighbors' dogs. She even managed to give me a big bruise while we played together. She grabbed for her toy but got my fleece-covered arm instead. Little dog has a big bite.

She's back to thinking she's a big dog again, and nothing can defeat her. And that's fine with me.

Yes, she's spoiled. Why do you ask?

My butt is almost on the seat here.

It's hard not to spoil her when she's been hurting. She's much better now but still not 100 percent.

You shoulda seen the other guy

Poor Ripley. She cornered a cat in the back yard this morning. For some reason effing little cat couldn't jump the fence. Which leads me to wonder, how the hell did it get in the yard in the first place.

A trip to our truly wonderful vet and $350 later, Ripley is home, resting, looking a bit like Frankenripley, with her stitches and drain tubes. A slightly, possibly disturbing picture below.

And just like that I'm no longer thinking I want another cat. Grrr.

Merry Christmas to me!

I bought myself another guitar. It's slightly used -- but just slightly. Mostly, it was played by my guitar teacher. It's a Washburn, and I really like it.

I know that it won't magically turn me into a great guitar player. But I know it will help me play better. It's not just the tools we use, but good tools can help.

Isn't it pretty?

Puppy went home

Ripley was never really sure what to make of the stubby-legged Corgi puppy. In the end, she tolerated him. And after he left, she seemed worried that we had gotten rid of another pet. There's just no reasoning with her.

"I'm going to pretend to not care, but when you're gone, I'll miss you!"
_

Final day

Today is the last day of NaBloPoMo, and I made it. Granted, I posted plenty of photos and random crap. But then, isn't that why you visit my blog?

Don't worry, today will be no exception.

It's also the last day of our adventures in puppy sitting, and I've reached a couple of conclusions. I am not cut out for puppies or babies. I'm too old and impatient. What do you mean you have to go outside at 2 a.m.? What do you mean you can't hold it as long as my 9-year-old dog? Ack! You had an accident! What is wrong with you? (Yes, I have unreasonable expectations. I also expect my own dog to be able to understand why she shouldn't bark at people outside on the street and to speak English.)

Just imagine how I'd be with a human baby. Don't you have a job yet? When do you start school so I can go back to blogging and chatting online?

Now, this isn't to make my dear friend feel bad, because I volunteered freely and with no pressure. I know it would have been easier if I hadn't felt so crappy off and on all weekend. Because despite the pooping and peeing -- and one pretty big (smelly) accident -- I have to admit. He's awfully damn cute.

And, puppy-sitting has not put me off the idea of getting a kitten. Go figure.

Look! Pie!

For the past few minutes, I was working on a post about how I didn't feel good and WebMD can turn me into a hypochondriac with every condition from the flu to lyme disease. But that post felt whiny and boring. But I have just a few days left of NaBloPoMo and I'm not about to fail now. So look at my beautiful Frozen Pumpkin Mousse Pie and enjoy the recipe below.

Ingredients

Crust

• 30 small gingersnap cookies (about 7 1/2 ounces)
• 2 tablespoons raisins
• 1 tablespoon canola oil

Filling

• 1 cup canned pumpkin puree
• 1/3 cup packed brown sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
• 1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
• 2 pints (4 cups) frozen low-fat vanilla yogurt, softened (see Tip)

Preparation

1. Preheat oven to 350°F. Coat a 9-inch deep-dish pie pan with cooking spray.
2. To prepare crust: Combine gingersnaps and raisins in a food processor and pulse until finely chopped. Add oil and pulse until blended. Press evenly into the bottom and up the sides of the prepared pan.
3. Bake the crust until set, about 10 minutes. Transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.
4. To prepare filling: Combine pumpkin, sugar, cinnamon, ginger and nutmeg in a large bowl and mix well. Add ice cream and stir until blended. Spoon the mixture into the cooled pie crust. Freeze until firm, at least 2 hours. Let the pie soften slightly in the refrigerator for 20 to 30 minutes before serving.

• Tip: To soften ice cream quickly, microwave on Medium-Low for 30 to 60 seconds.