life happens

Whoa!  It's been over two weeks since I posted a blog.  I guess that means I've been busier than usual.

Mainly with the two dogs we adopted from the Colorado Great Pyrenees Rescue.  Yep, two.  Not one.  Two.  Were we mad?!

Fallon likes leather recliners

 

Kyna on her "new" bed.  She prefers the love seat.

In all seriousness, having two dogs *is* a lot of work.  It's like having two 3 year olds running amok in the house.  And I do mean amok.  (cue scene from the movie Hocus Pocus, "...Amok!  Amok!  Amok!")

So far we've lost:

• Two throw pillows – one from the couch and one from a chair
  

• One blanket – one of Heather's favorites as a child but in bad need of being used for something else... like a furniture cover

• Two pairs of shoes  – Well, actually only two shoes.  They just happened to be from two separate pairs of shoes.  Both Ted's.

• The brand new stuffed animals we got for the dogs to snuggle with – I guess flamingos and giraffes weren't their favorite snuggle bunny type thingies.

• Two harnesses  – Supposedly guaranteed to survive extra large dogs.

• One collage photo frame  – Fortunately, the photos were unharmed.  The wood and glass, however, did not survive Fallon bouncing herself off the laundry room wall.

I'm sure other things will go the way of those in the list, but that's OK.  They're just things.  And as I have stated repeatedly to Ted as well as myself, "If you don't want it chewed on, torn, ripped, shredded, broken then make sure Kyna and Fallon can't get to it."

One of our new doggies is having anxiety issues and it's manifesting itself in a most unpleasant way.  We are effectively having to house-train a two year old dog.  This requires a LOT of work, time, and patience, but we'll get it sorted out soon enough.  The other dog seems to suffer some separation anxiety and has decided she does NOT like to be in her kennel.  The first few days, both girls were perfectly content to be in their warm, comfy kennels.  Now not so much.  So, along with house-training one dog, we are also kennel training the other.

So, if I seem a bit tired, distracted, frazzled, neurotic (or more so than usual) it's due to the "New Mommy" syndrome.  It's been a long time since I've had to deal with a 3 year-old mentality.  And the first time I've had to deal with a 3 year-old mentality in a 90 pound body.

Both Kyna (KEE-na) and Fallon (FAL-un) seem to be starting to enjoy the easy life.  And I'm happy knowing they are well cared for, loved, wanted, and safe.  That's worth everything we've gone through so far, and everything I know we'll be going through in the future.

you gotta love The Girls

dream life

It's been quite cool and windy the past couple of days.   This morning it was below freezing.  This does not make Ruth very happy.

The other day though, I realized that I can tolerate the cold much better than the wind.  At least with the cold I can bundle up, light a fire, snuggle under a blankie with the kitties (maybe even a big furry dog,) and so on.  The wind I can't do much about.  This of course, led me to think about my dream life.  Where would I really like to live?  Of course nothing is that simple.  There are all sorts of "restrictions," "caveats," "but only ifs" that go along with a dream list.  But here goes what I came up with so far...

Australia in January & February.  Preferably in the Queensland area somewhere along the beach.  Of course from October to about March or April is box jellyfish season and you don't really want to go in the waters then.  But I suppose I could deal with just hanging on the beach if it means I avoid cold and snow here.

yep, I could live there

In March or April I could do Tucson.  Tucson is gorgeous that time of year.  The cactus are blooming, it's warm, and no snow!  Trips to the Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum & Saguaro National Park are awesome this time of year.

hedgehog cactus

A beach house on a deserted stretch of the Florida panhandle coast would be nice in May.  Unfortunately, there really aren't any deserted stretches of beach in Florida anymore.  I'm sure I could make it work somehow.

this could be my sidewalk

Ireland in June & July.  More specifically the west coast of Ireland or in Northern Ireland along the Antrim coast.  It's awe inspiring to sit outside watching the water at sunset at 10:30 at night.  Ireland is one of the few places I've visited that actually feels like it could be "home."

little bungalow in the valley and I'd be good.

Yellowstone National Park during the summer months would be sublime.  OK, you can't really "live" in the park, but if I was a ranger I could. In a previous posting I explained how that might be problematic for me; I'd have to be in an area well and truly away from stoooopid people.

how could you not be in awe?

September and October are hard months to sort out.  The autumn colors are gorgeous, and I wouldn't want to miss out on that.  Perhaps I'd just travel the United States taking in the colors for those two months.  Visit the Rocky Mountain region then head east to places like Vermont and New Hampshire.

 

The next dilemma is what to do during November & December.  A cruise around the South Pacific?  Back to the beach house?  Both?   Thanksgiving I wouldn't mind spending some where cool-ish.  Thanksgiving is an "Autumn" holiday, so I could deal with a few weeks of cooler weather for the sake of a good meal.   And since I'm the one that is usually cooking the meal, I'll be in the kitchen where it's nice and toasty anyway!

Snow at Christmas is kinda cool.  Maybe a mountain house blanketed in snow.  Maybe do Yellowstone in the winter for a few days or a week.  Yellowstone is supposed to be absolutely breathtaking in winter.

 

makes me think I could deal with the cold just to see this!

My dream locations.  In my perfect world.  One day maybe.  One day.

Happy weekend everybody!!

 

restaurant review

This past weekend was Family Weekend at the University of Wyoming, so Heather's friend, Amy, Ted, and I went up to do all things Family Weekend related.  Come to find out there really weren't any events that 1) we were interested in or 2) didn't involve handing over wads of cash.  I figure they're getting enough of our money as it is; I'm not going to pay extra for the joy of climbing rocks or learning how to read a map.  Huh?  Yeah.  Those were some of the choices.

In any event, we got to spend time with Heather and the weather was gorgeous and the town was deserted because everything pretty much closes for football games.  Who knew?  Obviously, not me.

We did go out to eat on Saturday night, and I must say it was the biggest cluster *$%# I think I have ever experienced in a restaurant setting.  The first indication of trouble was the whole reservations process.  Knowing it was Family Weekend and also knowing the restaurant selection in Laramie, I thought it smart to make a reservation.  I found this place called The Cavalryman Supper Club that had some mixed reviews, but for the most part they were positive.  The few negative reviews seemed to be from "city folk" who really didn't understand the whole small town, down home concept.  I wasn't expecting fine dining Denver style so much as something a step above Chilis.  I digress.

Last Wednesday I made a reservation through the restaurant website and got a message letting me know the reservation wouldn't be confirmed until I got a phone call or e-mail.  I waited patiently for either.  Nada.  Zip.  Zilch.  Friday evening while waiting an hour for our 30 minute wait for a table at Chilis I rang the Cavalryman Supper Club to check on our reservation.  Much to my surprise we did indeed have a reservation but no explanation on why it wasn't confirmed.

Saturday we show up at the restaurant about 10 or 15 minutes before our now confirmed reservation time.  Little did I know this was really going to throw the operations of the entire restaurant off for the entire evening.  Now, having worked in the restaurant business, I know there are a few options for when a party arrives prior to their confirmed reservation time.  We could easily have been seated at the next available table or we could have been asked to wait until our reservation time to avoid over seating a station.  Either of those would have been perfectly acceptable.  Instead the two hostesses had an intense discussion on what to do in this situation.  I'm guessing we are the first guests in the history of the restaurant to actually show up early.  It took several minutes of looking at the empty tables and the empty sheet of paper and conversing in a whisper for them to decide that it would be OK to seat us.

We are shown to our table and I get my first good look at the place.  Now again, I wasn't expecting the Flagstaff House or Tavern On The Green, but the place appeared to have been decorated by someone who had a preconceived notion of how a "fine" restaurant should be decorated, yet while trying to maintain the "cowboy" feel.  Crystal chandeliers combined with recycled fence post frames around photos of cowboys in various poses on their horses.   The line of potted plants that separated the dining room from the hostess station was draped in black table cloths.  I suppose that was more attractive than the pots, but not by much.  I'm still not sure about the tomato plant seedlings in a trough as you come in the front door.  Future fruits for their salads maybe?

So, we are seated and I've taken in the ambiance.  Southfork meets The Ponderosa.

We wait.

And wait.

And wait.

There is one server shuttling among the other tables in our area, but he refuses to make eye contact with anyone at our table.  Maybe he's thinking we're aliens with laser shooting eyes and were going to incinerate him if he looked our way.  After waiting 10 minutes I finally say, "Excuse me?"  The horror of it all.  He actually had to acknowledge us!  I asked if he would mind finding us a server and he apologized and said he'd get one ASAP.  A girl comes rushing up to our table and starts to apologize profusely for ignoring us, but "nobody told" her that we were her table.  Nobody told you?  You don't know what station you're working?

Whatever, we finally have a person to bring us food and drink.

Or so we thought.

She takes our drink order and leaves and we wait.

And wait.

And wait.

I notice the bartender on his hands and knees in front of the wine rack and I say, "I bet she comes back and tells me they're out of the wine I ordered."

Yep.  They ran out last night.  She tells me the bartender had offered up another suggestion, of which I'm not particularly fond of, so I choose another.

So, now we have our drinks and we proceed to order some starters.  I can't wait for the baked brie and roasted garlic!  Heather, Ted, and Amy ordered spinach, artichoke, and king crab dip and are anxiously waiting for that to appear.

We wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Seeing a pattern here?

Finally, our food comes and we dig in.  I'm thinking I had better order another glass of wine because by the time I actually get it, I'll be ready.  Alas, our server has disappeared.  Again.

After our appetizers have been pretty much devoured, Becca (that's her name - you have been warned should you choose to dine at this place) returns to take our dinner order.  Heather and Amy order bacon wrapped filets and Ted and I order bison ribeyes.

In the meantime other people have come in and other tables are being served.  I'm hearing lots of "I'm sorry they ..." or "I'm sorry you had to wait" or "I'm sorry this isn't what you ordered but thought you might want it rather than wait."  What?!?!

By this point, we are all pretty much over this place and just want to eat and leave.  If only our food would show up.

We wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Becca comes out with a tray of food and we all eagerly lean forward, poised and ready.  Except it's not our food.  In fact, Becca has no clue whose food this is.  She's standing there lost.  She gets it sorted out in her brain and takes it to wherever it's supposed to go - or maybe not; we'll never know.  As she walks by she apologizes again and says they are starting to work on our order.  Starting?!  Are you kidding me??

By this point, I'm getting quite agitated about the whole situation.  A manager type person seems to have finally arrived on scene and comes over to apologize, and because it has some bearing that none of us are savvy enough to comprehend, tells us his name is Tim and he came from Colorado and is late.  He then says for all our trouble he is going to comp two of the meals.  Yay.  I'm so very happy.  I'm overjoyed.  Thrilled.

Completely and utterly unimpressed.

You mean we're actually going to get to eat?  What a concept.  In a restaurant, no less.

He asks me if I would like another glass of wine, and I'm tempted to tell him to just bring me the whole damn bottle.  Off he goes to get my wine.

Becca *finally* comes out with our dinners and asks us to cut into your steaks to make sure they are done correctly.  They all appear to be done perfectly.  Dinners come with seasonal vegetable, which on this past Saturday was four - yes, FOUR - small stalks of asparagus and choice of "starch."  (Who wrote their menu?  Choice of "starch"??)  I opted for the roasted red potatoes with garlic (I overheard another server describe them as "poached."  Huh?)  The number for the night apparently was four.  I got four quarter sized red potatoes to go along with the four spears of asparagus.  OK, I realize I'm not paying for the side dishes; I'm paying for the meat, but seriously folks.  Other tables were getting baskets of bread but apparently we had been seated at the "no service, no wine, no bread table."  After delivering our dinners, Becca disappears again.  I'm thinking I really want that other glass of wine, but manager man has disappeared.

Let me take a moment here to describe "manager man."  Tall, stocky, greasy ringlet mullet.  Smarmy is the word that came to mind when I first saw him.  Kinda scary actually.  GREASY RINGLET MULLET! 

Finally greasy haired manager (GHM) shows up with a glass of wine.  He tells me that due to the delay in our dinner, he is going to not only comp two meals but I will get to taste three of their "best" wines.  GHM explains what this particular vintage is all about and how it has spicy undertones, and I'm thinking, "No dude, that's all the hair grease running down your face."  GHM will personally make sure I get the wine in a timely fashion and will bring the second freebie when my glass gets "down to here."  Imagine 3/4 down a wine glass.  Yeah.  Right.  Sure I will.

We are eating and I look over at Ted's steak and I look at mine.  Look at Ted's.  Look at mine.  Guess who didn't get the bison ribeye?  Got a ribeye, but it ain't bison.  Is there nothing this restaurant can do correctly?!  Rather than risk starvation, I choose to just eat what's been put in front of me and deal with the price issue when the check arrives.  We finish and decide it's just too much bother to even try for dessert.  We just want to leave.

My wine glass has long been empty, and GHM hasn't "personally" noticed. In fact he's leaning against the bar chatting up the hostesses.

So we wait for Becca to come back.

And we wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Finally, I've had it.  I get up and Ted asks me where I'm going, and I tell him I'm going to get our check.  I walk up to GHM and say, "Excuse me, but would it be possible to get our check now?  We're kinda tired of being here."

*blink*  *blink*

More apologies that by now I know are hollow and have no meaning whatsoever.

Back at the table we wait for the check to appear.

And wait.

And wait.

GHM slinks up to our table and apologizes AGAIN, and tells us our entire dinner is comped.  They can't find our check.  GHM keeps going on and on about how it's an off night and how they were busier than they expected it being family weekend and all.  Frankly, I have no sympathy, and tell him, "I've worked management in the restaurant industry.  I've worked management in the retail industry.  As a manager it's your responsibility to plan for busy times and to make sure you have enough staff and food and drink.  Family weekend happens every year, just like Christmas.  The crowds weren't unexpected, YOU were unprepared."  And we leave.

We know at some point this is going to be funny, but it wasn't yet.

Driving down the highway back into town, a car comes speeding up behind us, and Ted being quick on the thinking says, "Oh shit!  It's Greasy Haired Manager and he found our check!"

At least we got a laugh out of that.

odd ball thoughts

It's Friday!!  I get to see Heather this weekend.  *boing*  *boing* This weekend is Family weekend at University of Wyoming.  I paid $45 for three of us to partake in all the festivities but we probably won't.  Ah well, it's still going to be fun!

So, to get you through the weekend I'm going to just leave you with a few random thoughts from my somewhat off-center brain.

So, you see signs all over for "World's best ..." How do they know it's the "world's best?"  Driving through small town America, you invariably come across some little cafe in Podunk Nowhere that is touting, "World's Best Coffee!"  Do they have a full time employee traveling around the globe tasting ALL the coffee in the world?

New and improved is another one.  How can it be new AND improved?  If it's "new" then it's never been done before, right?  How do you improve on something that's never been done before?

1st Annual.  Huh?  If it's the first it hasn't ever happened.  Annual implies it's been done on a yearly basis.  What if something happens and they can't hold the event the following year?

World Famous!  Again seen on small town cafes.  Because someone from Canada ate there makes it "World Famous?"

Very unique.  This one drives me bonkers.
Definition of unique: existing as the only one or as the sole example; single; solitary in type or characteristics: a unique copy of an ancient manuscript.
Now I realize languages change and morph and whatnot, but how can a single thing be "very" unique?  If there's only one, there's only one.

Just for grins and to continue the randomness of this whole exercise are some funny signs seen around the world.  My guess is they are the "world's best" funniest signs, possibly even "new and improved" over a previous version, not to mention due to my posting some of them will now be "world famous," and all of them are "very unique" in their own right.

do you pay prior to touching the wires?

 

the church is so helpful, no?

 

crocs waiting for their nom noms

 

which is it, dead or slow?

 

think s/he still works there?

 

yeah.  right. about that.

 

make up your mind, will ya?

 

sale for those not looking for a bargain

 

Have a great weekend!

food on the brain

Over the Christmas holidays, Heather and I are going on a cruise to the eastern Caribbean.  In an effort not to scare small children while in a bathing suit (me in the bathing suit, not small children,) I'm making a very serious effort to lose some poundage.  So far I'm doing really well.  Eight pounds gone and only fifteen more to go.

Honestly, I'm not sure I'll make it.  I love food.  I mean I LOVE food.  All kinds.  Well, mostly all kinds.  Liver and lima beans will never cross the threshold in to my home.

Moderate sized sandwich, don't you think?

 

It's natural when you are watching what you eat to want all the things you shouldn't have.  You notice I didn't say, "can't" have?  I'm not going to tell myself I can't have anything.  Otherwise I'll torture myself.  If there's something I really want, I could allow myself some in moderation.

Chocolate isn't my thing.  In fact sweets generally aren't my thing.  Unless it's pie.  I love me some pie!

Salty foods are what I'm craving the most.  I have a full tube of Pringles in my desk drawer at work.  It's left over from our trip to Yellowstone earlier this month.  It's still not opened.  As long as it stays sealed I won't be tempted.  But once that puppy's open, all bets are off.  I know.  I know.   Moderation.  I don't have to eat the whole thing.

Can't eat just 16

 

Seriously, how many of you reading this can eat just one serving of a food you are desperately craving?  A single serving of Pringles is 16 "crisps."  16 seems like a big number, but in all actuality 16 Pringles is nothing.  Especially if you eat them the way I do.  Two stacked concave side down on my tongue. Crunch!  Weird, I know.  It's a texture thing.  Foodies will understand that concept.

There are six servings per container.  Any of you manage to get six servings out of one tube of Pringles?  Impossible.  Two.  Three.  *Maybe* four.  Six?  No way, José. 

So there they sit.  In my drawer waiting for me to have the willpower to eat just one serving.  They could be there awhile.

That's OK though, in a few short weeks, I'll be able to put on a bathing suit and soak up the Caribbean sunshine without fear of scaring small children. 

Can't wait!

no summer for me...

I turned on the news this morning, and our always happy and chipper weather girl (OK I admit that's probably sexist, but I'm sorry she looks like she's *maybe* 14 AND she's a girl talking about the weather) gave me the news that there is a possibility of snow tonight and into tomorrow and our temperatures are going to be "crisp" and "chilly." 

This is just wrong.

• NO one should be happy and chipper at 5:00 in the morning.
• Snow?!  Whose bright idea was this?
  
• "Crisp" and "Chilly" describe foods, not weather.  Chips are crisp and go really well with salsa and a nice chilly margarita.  French fries are crisp and are awesome with a nice chilly beer.  Weather should be "warm" or "balmy" or even "hot" as far as I'm concerned.

Alas, I did not really get my summer this year.  I got spring that went on for six months and it looks to be followed immediately by winter.  Maybe we'll get an autumn.  I can kinda deal with autumn.  After all there are pretty colors and it's not always "crisp" or "chilly;" autumn can be downright toasty.  Winter I'm not looking forward to so much.

Lots of folks really enjoy autumn and cool cold days and nights.  Cold for me is anything under 80 degrees.  These folks will go all nostalgic on me and talk about walking down a trail with leaves littering their path, the delicious aroma of apple pies baking wafting through the air, the exciting nip in the air that is just a precursor to the winter ahead, the sounds of children out laughing in the field picking the perfect pumpkin for their Halloween jack-o-lantern, and so on and so on.

First off, I don't know about this whole leaves littering the path thing.  It's more like my yard is shortly going to be covered in leaves and I'll have to get them all raked and bagged.  Or I could just leave them and let them blow into the common area across the street or into the neighbors' yards.  Not very neighborly of me, so I'll rake 'em and bag 'em.  Or hire someone.  The leaves are pretty.  On the trees.

from a trip to Rocky Mountain National Park

Second, assuming anyone is really taking the time and energy to bake an apple pie, the houses today are built so airtight there is no "delicious aroma wafting through the air."  Unless you're inside and you're the one baking the pie.  Honestly, I don't know that many people that actually bake anymore. Except me, but I'm trying to watch the calories, so there's no apple pie baking going on at my house.

Third, as far as I'm concerned there is no "exciting" nip in the air.  Unless it's coming from a fanged beast, then it goes way beyond exciting and really doesn't have anything to do with the weather.  The nip in the air is nature's way of telling me, "HA!  I found you and now I'm going to torture you for the next few months with cold and snow and wind and more cold."  Gee.  I can hardly wait for that.

 what is known as "winter driving conditions"

Children out picking out the perfect pumpkin is kinda neat.  They do get so excited and take it very seriously, so I can't really fault that little bit of nostalgia.  Its' cute to see a little tyke trying mightily to pick up the "biggest" "bestest" pumpkin in the field - and the thing is as big as they are!  I like jack-o-lanterns.  I like carving them.  I like seeing all the little kids dressed up in their Halloween costumes.  It's fun.  But that's only one day out of ~90.

where's the candy?

I guess I'm just sad that I missed out on summer.  I kept waiting and waiting for those 90 to 100 degree days, and they never showed up.  Hearing that it's going to be "crisp," "chilly," and there's a chance of snow just means  that summer is well and truly over.  And I'm going to have to wait until next year for a summer.  I'm really hoping we get one.

I want to be "some tomato"

Gardening is one of my favorite hobbies, and now that I'm a full fledged homeowner, I get to do just that.

The only issue I'm facing is my sister did landscaping that was easy for her to keep up with and didn't require a lot of attention or time, but that she could just enjoy.  But it just isn't conducive to my style of gardening.

The back yard is pretty much river bed.  While it's beautiful in its own way, it does not lend itself to planting flowers, or more importantly vegetables.

I will spend the fall getting the back garden cleaned up and possibly have the rock removed.  That will leave me the winter to plan and design my garden.

The book I've used in the past that has served me well, and is what I refer to as, "my bible" is the Sunset Western Garden Book.  My last one was so old, worn, and tattered; I had to find a replacement.  I will spend countless hours poring over each page, putting the garden together like a live jigsaw puzzle.  I'm looking forward to this to get me through the long, cold, dark days of winter.

All of this garden thinking made me remember a poem I read in a book called "When I'm an Old Woman I Shall Wear Purple."  It's a great book – if you haven't read it, you should.  Mary-Louise and I laughed and cried our way through that book, and in her words, "This is so YOU!"

Here's the poem that is "me." 

Post Humus

Scatter my ashes in my garden

so I can be near my loves.

Say a few honest words,

sing a gentle song,

join hands in a circle of flesh.

Please tell some stories

about me making you laugh.

I love to make you laugh.

When I've had time to settle

and green gathers into buds,

remember I love blossoms

bursting in spring.

As the season ripens

remember my persistent passion.

And if you come in my garden

on an August afternoon,

pluck a bright red globe,

let the juice run down your chin

and the seeds stick to your cheek.

When I'm dead I want folks to smile and say...

"That Patti, she sure is some tomato!"

By Patti Tana

If it is read for me, I think you can replace "Patti" with "Ruth."  Hopefully, she won't mind.