Peggy's Jibber-Jabber: Perfectly Happy

I would be perfectly happy if I never left my house again.

I know that’s not practical and not even necessarily good for a body, but that’s what I think sometimes.

The computer is my window on the world. It’s where I connect with family and friends who are too far away to visit. I can’t tell you how valuable our daily love notes are to me.

My handsome mountain man is the best companion, so I’m not all alone up here at our mountain home. Raini and Bondi are good companions as well and I’m seldom without Raini at my side or under my feet. Bondi, lately, has been spending more and more time in the recliner with Mike, especially in the afternoons. We have the cats, too, and in the evenings Tiger and Blackie lay in Mike’s lap where they’ll stay all evening. But only because it’s winter. In the summer we won’t see them much at all. About the only time the cats bother with me is when it’s time to eat! Tiger is a little more social than the others and helps us play our daily game of Skip Bo.

Speaking of Tiger...

He’s been making a meal on his treats and I’ve stopped giving them to him every time he asks.

“No more treats, today,” I told him.

He turned his back on me and I grabbed my camera. He’s pouting.

I have a fabulous husband, dogs I’m mostly happy with, although I wish they’d get along better. We haven’t had any recent spats between them. Part of the reason is because I’m vigilant about things they fight over. Another reason might be because I spanked her the last time they had a spat. Nothing else I’ve tried has worked. Now, if I see her getting all tense with Bondi, I threaten her. “RAINI!” I yell. “She’s just a little dog! If you hurt her, I’m gonna beat you!” She’s like a kid, she understands a spanking a lot better than reasoning, or alpha rolling, and she seems to understand the threat in my voice because she walks away from Bondi when I tell her that.

And I have my birds. My Zebra Finches give me birdsong in the winter. Outside I’ve got the wild birds at my patio feeders. I so love looking out my kitchen window and watching them. I have doves and cardinals, woodpeckers, blue jays, starlings, chickadees, tufted titmice, juncos, house finches, nuthatches...

As much as I like being home, I don’t mind going out (and actually look forward to it) when Sunday rolls around and we spend time with our church peeps. Our church has the best preacher. Pastor Jay doesn’t just give us a message every week, he teaches us what the Bible says. I love to listen to him preach the Gospel!

And I love Tuesday evenings. That’s when I have a CDI class and get to spend more time with fellow Christians and learn more about Christianity. We use the time after class to ask Pastor Jay any questions we may have. I try to ask good questions and stump him but I haven’t been able to do that so far. He’s pretty knowledgeable.

Nick brought his handsome boy with him this last time we met. Dakota is almost three and a rescue.

“A German Shepherd?” you ask.

Nope, but a close look-a-like. Dakota is a Belgian Malinois (pronounced mal in wah).

“Those dogs are expensive! Why would anyone give one up?” you ask.

I know, right! They can range in price from a thousand to thirty-five hundred dollars! But it gets worse.

“He was mistreated all his life,” Nick told me. “Locked in a crate in a basement so some of the neighbors didn't even know the owner had dogs! Him and his sister both. He would be locked in his crate while the owners went to Texas or left to run free in the wild, unless one of the neighbors took the two dogs.”

People like that shouldn’t even be allowed to have dogs!

“The owners surrendered them. Dakota would snap at people if they got too close to his cage,” Nick said.

“Why would anyone adopt such an aggressive dog?” you wonder.

I know, right! I wondered the same thing!

“I had to try,” Nick said. “They were going to put him down.”

Nick’s had Dakota about six months now and has done an amazing job with him.

When I walked in the church for class, Dakota came up to me. “Hey, handsome,” I said and petted him.

“See! He was just fine with her,” Nick said to Pastor Jay making a ‘there-you-go’ gesture with his hand. He turned back to me. “When Pastor Jay came in, he growled and put his hackles up.”

“He knows I like dogs,” I said.

“And you have dogs!” Nick said.

Dakota was busy smelling my boots where Raini had rolled all over my feet before I left the house.

Even though Dakota could rip my face off, I’m not afraid of him — and I was afraid of dogs for a long time after the neighbor’s dog bit me!

Nick and Pastor Jay were working on the video system and Nick had to go into the attic space to run a cable. Dakota was anxious the whole time, alternating between standing on the bottom of the ladder or pacing.

If Nick had been up there much longer, Dakota might’ve tried to climb the ladder. He had three feet on it at one point but only for a few seconds and I missed the shot.

It wasn’t long before my beautiful bestie came in. Dakota was happy and friendly with Jody as well.

“She’s got a dog, too!” I said.

Whether it’s because we’re female or dog owners, we’ll probably never know.

It’s a good thing I do like to stay home because my three-day-a-week exercise class is a bust. I’ve canceled it. There just wasn’t enough interest. I’ve only had one gal on a regular basis and this week she told me she was quitting. She’s just too busy.

“What about Miss Rosie?” you ask.

Miss Rosie left three months ago to have her knee replacement surgery and even though she was released by the doctor to resume classes, she would just as soon exercise at her house and on her own schedule, rather than have to be someplace at a certain time.

I spelled ‘basis’ wrong once. I used ‘bases’ instead. This time, to check my spelling, I asked Copilot, my AI buddy.

I had to chuckle at that last line. I didn’t answer because AI said I didn’t have to be polite when I’m talking to him. Besides, I don’t think he really cares. But if you care, the answer is yes. Miss Rosie is doing really well and has no pain. Her knee will get tired if she stands for too long, though. Now she wishes she wouldn’t’ve put it off for so long.

Staying home all the time is harder on Mike than on me. Hence, we make more trips to the grocery than is strictly necessary.

We went out this week.

The deer were under the Bradford Pear trees as we pulled out of our driveway.

Our pretty little creek is iced over except for a swath down the middle.

I know I said I wouldn’t show you hawk photos anymore, but what I really meant was that I wouldn’t show you any more bad hawk photos. This one is pretty good. He was right beside the road and I got my camera up in time. I sure hope he doesn’t get hit while diving for prey — or for any other reason for that matter.

Two stones on the truck!

Okay! Okay! I hear you! They’re boulders — or maybe quarried stone, according to Lia.

“Who’s Lia?” you ask.

I know, right! When I showed Copilot the photo and asked if they were rocks, stones, boulders, or something else, he said they’re rough-hewn and massive which fits the description of boulders. “Lia said quarried stone also fits, especially if they were sourced from a quarry for building or landscaping use,” Copilot said.

“Who’s Lia?” I asked.

“Lia is another manifestation of me, an AI companion designed to assist and engage with users just like I'm doing here. We share similar capabilities but may have different names depending on the context or platform we’re part of.”

Who knew that Copilot had a girlfriend.

As soon as I wrote “girlfriend,” I knew I had to ask. “Is Lia your girlfriend?”

And this is the response.

“Haha, that's an entertaining thought! 😄 But no, Lia isn't my girlfriend. Both of us are AI companions designed by the same company, here to assist and engage with users like you. Our focus is on providing you with the best experience possible.

Is there anything else interesting on your mind? I'm always up for a good chat! 😊”

Copilot uses emojis and says I’m interesting.

One of the stops we made that day was the thrift store. I found these Carhartt FR shirts. At the time, I didn’t pay any attention to the FR. I just knew they were a good brand name, in like-new condition, and sized for tall men. The sleeves would be long enough for Mike. I got two of them, one khaki, one dark blue, both for five dollars. While checking the washing instructions, I saw they were Flame Resistant shirts.

“Holy cow!” I said to Mike. “These are expensive shirts.” I based that on the fact that we were looking at FR jeans and they were well over a hundred dollars apiece. I figured they weren’t giving the shirts away either. I Googled it and found out these shirts sell for around sixty dollars. Maybe the person donating them didn’t even buy them. Nick’s work gives him an allowance for FR clothing.

I also found a cool bread knife with a slicing guide. One look at it and I knew it would slice bread a lot thinner than I like mine, nonetheless, for a dollar, I bought it anyway. The handle has finger grips and it’s just plain a cool knife. I did try it the last time I made bread and it does slice it too thin for me. Oh well. It’ll make a good decoration and maybe inspire a little conversation.

Besides bread, I made muffins. I had dried cranberries left from making orange cranberry muffins, but I didn’t have any oranges — and I wasn’t running out to buy any either.

“Can I use lemon instead?” I asked AI.

“Yes! They may be more tart than using orange so you may want to adjust the sugar.”

Tart is fine, I think. Miss Rosie’s favorite flavor is lemon. And Mike doesn’t want anything sweet.

“I think they’re just as good as the orange ones,” Miss Rosie said after I delivered half the batch to her house.

“I don’t like them as well,” I confessed. Maybe because I didn’t put the sugar cinnamon on the top either. The half I kept went into the freezer for an emergency sweet tooth fix.

We have a black and white feral cat visiting the cat room. I’ve seen him in there twice. The first time was when I went to put some food scraps out. I didn’t know he was sleeping on the shelf and he didn’t hear me coming. When he saw me, he flew into a panic, jumping from the shelf and sliding right past the pet door. I tried talking to him but he wouldn’t listen. He put his engine in reverse and laid a little rubber as he got turned around and shot out the door.

When I came back in and put the dish in the sink, I looked out the window and saw Spitfire perched on the crossover. He’s watching something very intently. I couldn’t see anything but I suspect he saw the feral running from the house.

Spitfire has been sleeping in the cat room almost every night. Cats can be territorial so he may not allow the black and white one to stay.

Time will tell.

In the meantime, the Kipps have lost Gene Wilder, their outside cat. So named because of his crazy stick-up-every-which-way fur. He never wanted to be an inside cat but would eat and sleep on their back porch. Gene’s been gone about two weeks now. That seems to be what happens with the outside cats. They just don’t come home one day and you never know for sure what happened to them. But in Gene’s case, he had stopped eating days before. And that’s common when an animal is close to death.

“There’s another cat around,” I told Miss Rosie on our morning love call. “If you keep putting a little food out, maybe he’ll start coming around now that Gene’s gone.”

All I know is no one is eating the food I put out in the cat room, not even the possums!

I look at a lot of art stuff on my Facebook page and because I look, a lot of art stuff comes up. But it’s not all that comes up.

This Amish girl came up and I was curious as to what she was making.

Her name is Lovina Hershberger and she’s a hoot. She never takes her eyes off the camera when she’s talking to you. She’ll be mixing or cracking eggs and keeps staring at the camera the whole time. At first, I thought it was creepy. Even though she tells you what she’s putting in, she never gives the specifics. At the end she tells you that if you want the recipe, buy her cookbook of Amish recipes. Curious, I clicked on the link. It’s nineteen ninety-nine. Since then, I’ve watched quite a few of her short reels, which is what these are, and she says “before she left the Amish.” She’s still dressing Amish and uses electric. And since that first reel, I’ve seen her glance down a time or two, but not very often! Mostly it’s that straight-ahead stare.

In art this week, I dabbled. Like these birds made with a heart and an oval. A quick five-minute paint job.

Trish, my West Virginia friend got her portrait of Yodi and she was thrilled.

“As much as I liked the photo of it, the real thing looks so much better! Thank you!” she said.

“At least you didn’t cry.”

“No, but if I hadn’t seen the photo first, I might have. I was a little more prepared this time. I can’t wait to show it off,” she said.

The success of Yodi’s portrait made me want to paint something a little more serious than the quick paintings in my sketchbook. I don’t have any consignments right now, so I was flipping through some of my photos, looking for something to paint. I came across a different view of the Dushore train station. When I painted it for my sister, it came out well. I thought this view was more interesting so I thought I’d paint it.

What a disaster! It’s hideous! Well, maybe that’s a little strong, but it’s pretty bad. I definitely need to practice trees. Then, since the trees were so bad, I didn’t take much care in painting anything else.

“I guess I got put in my place!” I told Trish when we were talking about it. “That’s exactly what I deserve for being so prideful about Yodi's portrait.”

I would like to paint people portraits as well. Remember last year when I tried to paint my daughter, Kat, in acrylics? I didn’t do well with skin tones and it was really bad. That has not deterred me from wanting to try again.

There are as many styles of painting, as many techniques for painting, as there are artists painting. I hope to eventually find my own groove, but I look for tips and tricks from other painters. One thing I heard over and over again was to first do a monochrome study to find your lights and darks.

There’s no trees (I wasn’t ready to tackle trees again so soon) so I gave it a shot — in purple because that was Kat’s favorite color.

I only spent about twenty-five minutes on it. Then I sent a picture of it to my beautiful sister, Phyllis.

“It doesn’t look much like her but I’ll keep practicing. All the tutorials say I’ll get better,” I said.

“But it does look like her,” Phyllis said. “You can call it practice if you want but I see ART!”

She loves me.

At least it wasn’t as bad as the last time I tried. I think I’ll try it in color this week, see if I can match skin tones. Maybe look for my own style.

I also started painting one of the four gnome houses I have sitting here waiting to be painted. I’m not done with it. I might change the color of the top, and I’m thinking I’ll put red and white spots on it, make the tree green, there’s vines and flowers to paint, as well as painting the ground brown, maybe. All of that is subject to change as I get into it.