She Did It Again!

           She did it again!

          “Who did what?” you ask.

          Bondi! She got another mouse!

          Thursday night, when I took her out for the last pee call of the night, I checked to see if the feral cat that’s been visiting had eaten the food I’d put out that morning. He hadn’t but peeking out of the feral cat house were the cutest little ears, and the cutest little eyes, in the cutest little face, with the cutest little white blaze on the cutest little chest that you ever did see! A mouse stood frozen, watching me.

          I always take a flashlight out with me at night. I like to make sure there isn’t anything in the dog run that shouldn’t be there. Like say a cat, or a fox, or a bear.

          The mouse let me get quite close before he broke and ran deeper into the feral cat house. I set Bondi up there. “There’s a mouse,” I told her. “Go get ‘em!”

          Bondi only had a nose for the cat food she could smell.

          The mouse came running into view. I saw him, Bondi didn’t. There was only one way out and I was blocking it. He hunkered down behind a blanket, but I could still see his little eyes peeking over the folds, watching me.

          Do I dare reach inside and move the blanket? I wondered.

          I couldn’t get Bondi to do anything other than snoop for crumbs. I put my brave on, reached inside, and as soon as I touched the blanket, the mouse launched himself through the opening. I don’t know if he hit me or not. It all happened so fast! But I heard him hit the stones. He scampered for the wall through the tines of a summer leaf rake. I set Bondi down and moved the rake. Some cardboard stacked up behind it fell, causing the mouse to emit a shrill and frantic little, “SQUEAK!”

          Bondi heard that and came running.

          I thought the mouse was still under the pile, but Bondi’s nose found him plastered tight against the wall a foot away, being very still.

          “Get him!” I commanded.

          And she did!

          She grabbed him, dropped him, picked him up, carried him a little way away, dropped him, picked him up again.

          “Good girl, Bondi! What a good girl you are!” I praised her as I approached. She wasn’t having any of that. She was probably afraid I was going to take her mouse away from her, which I was, but not just yet. First, I wanted to make sure he was dead.

          Bondi took her prize out into the snow. I trailed behind telling her to stop. Eventually she obeyed and dropped her mouse. I put the light on it and saw several little tooth pricks of blood oozing from the side of the mouse. He didn’t stand a chance against my mighty mouse hunter!

          I had to go back in the house and get my camera. I couldn’t leave Bondi out there with it. She’d probably eat it before I got back. I picked her up and went back to the house.

“Bondi got another mouse!” I called to Mike, grabbed my camera, and went back out.

I had to put Bondi down to take a picture. You know what she did, don’t you? She went right for her mouse.

“Wait!” I got a hold of her.

“Drop it!”

She did.

“Now wait!”

I shone the light on it and took a picture.

“What a good girl you are!” I told her again. That must’ve sounded a lot like permission because she picked up her mouse and took off.

By the time I caught up with her she was at the door.

“You can’t take him in the house!”

Bondi dropped it.

I picked the mouse up by his little tail and tossed him over the fence. Bondi wasn’t happy about that.

Who needs cats! And she doesn’t torture them first, either!

          Bondi found a spot she likes to lay on sunny days. She can watch the birds at the feeder from there.

          I was working on one of my projects at the table and happened to glance up in time to see a squirrel coming along the outside of the fence line. I don’t see squirrels very often. I got up, grabbed my camera, took up a station at the door, and waited. I just knew he was going for the seeds at the birdfeeders. Pretty soon I see him coming. I’m guessing he followed the fence until he got to where it was attached to the house, and he could scale the wood siding and get over.

          I was waiting for him to get past the stump that holds the feral cat house to scavenge for dropped bird seed, but he surprised me. He jumped up on the stump.

          I knew when I took it that it wouldn’t be a good picture. Experience has taught me to take a crappy picture and hope for a better one. There have been times when I waited for a good shot and ended up with no shot!

          Bondi, hearing the click of my camera, came to investigate. She saw the squirrel and barked. Ole Mr. Fuzzy Tail wasn’t hanging around. He took off, crossing the yard, and came to the fence. He ran back and forth looking for a way out.

         Then I didn’t see him anymore. I’m guessing he came to where it joined the house on that side of the dog run and climbed out.

          Bondi’s a silly dog. I was at the stove, and she starts running in circles chasing her tail. I’ve seen her do this before. Some say it’s a way to burn off energy and some say it’s from boredom. I suspect it’s a little of both. Anyway, I had to laugh when she got a hold of her tail and kept going in circles. And I think she knew she was entertaining me because she kept it up.

Speaking of critters…

I woke to the sound of a cat puking. It was the middle of the night. I didn’t look to see which one it was, and I didn’t care. I wasn’t getting up to clean it up. Bondi heard it, too. She came out from under the covers and stood at the edge of the bed.

“Leave it alone,” I told her, and she stayed on the bed. After a few minutes she came back under the covers and went back to sleep.

In the morning, when Mike got up, I called out to him. “Watch where you step. One of the cats puked last night.”

Mike went on into the bathroom and when he came out, he looked for it. “It’s right beside the bed. Don’t step in it when you get up.”

When I got up, I carefully swung my feet around and looked before I put them on the floor. Yep. There it was. I barely glanced at it. Just enough to make sure I missed it and went into the bathroom. When I came out, I saw a white string beside the pile of liquified cat food. I didn’t even stop to get dressed. Half-naked, I padded to the kitchen to get stuff to clean it up.

Mike was in his recliner, watching TV.

“There’s either a string or a worm in it,” I told him on my way past.

Turns out, it was a worm.

“Why would you think it otherwise?” you wanna know.

Just the day before I caught Bondi and Blackie pulling at the strings on the end of the carpet. I took one out of Bondi’s mouth and scolded her but left Blackie to have his. Strings can be very bad for dogs; I don’t know about cats.

I have a scraper I use to scrape up these kinds of messes with. I didn’t want to put a worm in the scrap bin to be tossed out for the critters, like I’d normally do with partially digested cat food, so I put the whole mess into the garbage can.

Then I got to thinking about it.

Will Strongid-T kill this kind of worm?

Blackie’s already received a wormer to kill some kinds of worms and he’s had one dose of Strongid which kills other kinds. He’ll get his second and last dose of that on the fourteenth.

I have some Strongid left from the last time I wormed the cats.

I got a rubber glove, took the worm from where it sat on top of the garbage, took a picture, and sent it to Dr. Lori, our vet.

“It looks like a round worm and yes, Strongid will kill them.”

I wormed Tiger and Spitfire. They’ll get their second dose four days after Blackie gets his.

“Is that worm alive?” Dr. Lori wanted to know.

“It isn’t now,” I told her. “Someone puked it up in the middle of the night and he was about six or eight inches away from the puke so I’m guessing he was alive.”

“Peg, that’s disgusting!” you say.

I know, right! You only get to hear about it (and see a picture), I had to clean it up!

Speaking of cleaning up…

My morning peeps know that I had my endoscopy and old lady colonoscopy this week. I was supposed to have it weeks ago, but my prep didn’t work, and I rescheduled it. This time I got the prescription stuff to unclog these rusty old pipes.

We went to Tunkhannock to get my prescription and do a little shopping.

“Look at the ice!” I exclaimed.

The mountain sparkled in the sunlight.

When Mike had his first colonoscopy, he had trouble with the cleanout, too. They had him do a two-day fast. So, I did a two-day fast and followed all the recommendations. No popcorn, seeds, nuts five days prior and more importantly, no Pepto Bismol! That’s where I’d made my mistake the first time. I avoided anything and everything that would cause me to have a stomachache, namely fat or too many sweets, for nine days. That was the last time I’d had the pink stuff, nine days before my procedure.

They tell you to increase your fluid intake to reduce the cramping caused by the prep. I already drink a lot. So much so that my salt gets low then I don’t feel well.

“I’m worried about losing too much salt,” I told Mike. “I’m gonna get some Gatorade. It has electrolytes in it.” It’s also very high in calories but beings as I was fasting, I wasn’t worried about that.

I got the big jug, and, besides all the coffee I drank, I drank almost the full gallon of lemon-lime Gatorade the day before my colonoscopy. I had Jell-O, too. I still have Jell-O! I made six boxes, wanting to have enough to stave off hunger. Surprisingly, I wasn’t all that hungry and ended up eating only two. So, I’ve got lots of Jell-O for dessert this week.

Everyone says the prep is the worst part but quite honestly, I didn’t think it was all that bad. I had a little trouble drinking the large amount of liquid in such a short time, but only a little. And I didn’t have hardly any cramping at all.

The worst part of the prep?

Having to clean the toilet five times in a row!

Aye-yi-yi! What a mess!

Even though the prep was working, I was still worried.

The morning of the colonoscopy, I got up at five and started drinking the remaining prep. Things were watery but still very dark.

“That’s a sign of blood,” Mike said.

“Yeah, it could be. But in my case, I think it’s the Pepto.”

“That should be out of your system by now.”

I Googled it. A single dose of the pink stuff can stay in your system for fifteen days. A single dose! And I drank half a bottle!

Things did eventually clear up and I was good to go. I’m so glad I went with the prescription Colyte.

I checked in at the hospital as Margaret, my given name, because of insurance coverage. A wristband was printed and handed to me.

“See if you can slide that on your wrist,” the receptionist said.

Every other time we’ve been there for Mike, they put the wristband on then fastened it. This lady fastened it first and handed it to me. I had trouble getting it over my big ole man-hands. They’re not slender and delicate like a lot of ladies’ are.

Everyone at the hospital was so nice and I had both a Margaret and a Peggy on my care team as well as an Amy and a Justine.

“What is your name and date of birth?” Justine asked as she looked at the wristband.

I told her.

“Why are you here today?”

I was surprised by the question. “For a colonoscopy and endoscope.” I knew why I was there.

“And why are we doing them?” she wanted to know.

 That felt a little personal, but I answered anyway. “The colonoscopy because I’m an old lady and the endoscope because I have reflux and a cough.”

I really didn’t have long to wait before Justine wheeled me into my own private procedure room. Once there I was asked the same questions as before. Now I’m thinking it’s a procedural regulation. Verify every step of the way.

“As soon as the doctor administers the sedative, I want to put this in your mouth,” Margaret said. She stood nearby, holding a green mouth thingy that I knew the doctor would slide the scope through. “There he goes. Now open up.”

I did.

“Wider.”

I did. She got it in place, and I waited to feel sleepy. I never did. It was zonk and I was out! Just that fast!

I did wake up during the colonoscopy. I heard them talking but don’t remember a single word of what was said. I felt the scope and started to roll onto my back. Doc put a hand on my hip to stop me then I was out again and don’t remember a thing until I woke up in recovery.

Amy was there. “Are you ready for a snack?” she asked.

I wasn’t feeling hungry but said, “Sure.”

“Apple or cranberry juice?”

I like both but I had a jug of apple juice a few weeks before with my failed first prep. I haven’t had cranberry in a long time. “Cranberry.”

“Saltines or graham crackers?”

That was a hard choice. I was considering it.

“You can say both,” Amy said.

“Both.”

She went and got my snack, put the straw in the juice and gave it to me to sip on. She opened both packs of crackers and served them on a napkin. Despite not feeling hungry, I ate them both — and drank the juice.

Peggy came in. “I’m gonna help you get dressed and take you down to your ride.” They wouldn’t let anyone wait inside because of COVID. They called Mike and he was standing there holding the car door open, waiting for me, when I was wheeled out.

Peggy was impressed. “Look at that! What a gentleman!”

“He’s a good husband,” I affirmed.

          The doctor did come in and talk to me after the procedure. He said he found one small polyp which he removed.

          The results came back the next day. I had a hyperplastic polyp. I didn’t know what that meant so I Googled it. There are two types of polyps, the cancerous kind, and the non-cancerous kind. Mine was non-cancerous and the most common. One website said this kind of polyp generally forms because of an injury.

          How do you injure yourself in there and not know it‽

          Later I got a message from the doctor telling me it was non-cancerous and I’m good for five years.

          I also have diverticulosis, little pockets that form in the digestive tract. It’s pretty common in older adults, which, apparently, I’m in the classification of. In the old days they would tell you not to eat seeds, nuts, or popcorn because they thought those things could collect in the pockets and you’d develop diverticulitis, a painful inflammation of those little pouches. I don’t think they believe that anymore. I sure hope not anyway. I love nuts and I love, love, love popcorn! I have it air-popped with parmesan and Farm Dust on it almost every night as my evening meal and it about killed me to forego it for five days prior to my colonoscopy! But I’ll wait and see what my physician’s assistant says about it.

           “Peg, you didn’t say how the endoscope came out,” you say.

          That’s right. I didn’t. Thanks for reminding me. All’s normal on that end!

          I’ll have a sit down with my PA in early March where Michelle’ll go over the results with me.

My morning peeps also got a sneak peek at the new book box I’m working on. This one is a commissioned piece and we’re calling it Sweet Dreams.

“We?” you query.

Yep. We. The beautiful lady who commissioned this piece suggested two names when I asked, and I think Sweet Dreams is apropos.

I really am pleased with the front.

The back? Not so much.

I made a bunch of stencils and tried them on the Warped One first. Indian dancers, a fox, and arrowheads. I was going for a sun or wind effect in the center. I hate the colors, that’s why it’s in black and white, and if it’d be for anyone else, I’d repaint it. Since he’s gonna live at my house, I’ll just shelve it and call it a lesson learned.

I showed it to Trish to see if she liked anything about it, to give me ideas to finish Sweet Dreams.

“I like the arrowheads,” she told me. “The fox looks almost like a wolf. How about a wolf howling at the moon?”

What a great idea!

I found a couple of stencils and she chose one.

I tried to leave a little texture on the moon but some of the detail on the wolf didn’t come out. I was less than thrilled with it.

Some of my best ideas come to me in my dreams. That night I dreamed about making it from clay instead of plaster of Paris. In the morning, just as soon as I could, I made it from clay.

“Peg, he’s facing the other direction,” you say.

I know, right! I never gave it a thought until it was done. Silly me. But I’m not sure it makes any difference, especially if you’d never seen it the other way.

I might embellish it more. Then all I have to do is paint it.

Speaking of painting and best ideas coming in the night, here’s another one that came to me.

I’ve got some leftover printer ink that I keep trying on various projects looking for a good way to use it.

What if I used ink instead of paint? I wondered.

While I had my clay out, I made a feather for the express purpose of trying that idea out on.

I don’t hate it. 

There are times when we spend too much money and have to stay home for a while. This is one of those times. We are staying home as much as possible. And I must confess, it’s a little harder for my social butterfly than it is for me. I’m always busy. I always have a project or two making and about a billion others in my head waiting to be made. I have meals to prepare, dishes to wash, critters to care for, books to read, and if I have any time left over, there’s always laundry to be laundered, floors to sweep, windows to be washed, and dust to be dusted. All that and only five days to do it in. We won’t talk about the other two days I devote to my love of you and writing.

One of the ways we save money is to eat at home. Eating out has always been more expensive than eating at home but it’s even worse these days. Food prices rising. Transportation issues. We’d gotten into the habit of going out for our favorite breakfast at a local joint, an omelet for Mike, pancakes and bacon for me. At first, we were going every week. That dwindled to twice a month. Now we’re making breakfast at home.

Saturdays are designated as our breakfast day. Mike makes pancakes. Three pieces of bacon go in the oven for me. Mike’s given up bacon. Don’t ask me how anybody could willingly give up bacon!

“Peg, how can anyone willing give up bacon?” you ask.

I don’t know!

And I’ll make eggs over easy for the top of Mike’s stack of pancakes.

Me? I don’t eat eggs with my pancakes, and I’ve given up syrup. The pancakes are good without it, and it saves me calories, that’s how (in case you were going to ask me how I can give up syrup on my pancakes).

Our meals around here are kinda light with both of us trying to lose weight. Cereal for breakfast six days a week. Lunch is our main meal. Mike has an early supper of cereal. Later, watching TV, is when I have popcorn — if I’m not preparing for a colonoscopy!

I think Mike gets a little hungry in the evenings while we’re watching TV.

“What are we having for lunch tomorrow?” He’ll be thinking about food. Of course, all the food commercials on TV don’t help either.

I’ll tell him or ask what he wants to have.

This has become sort of a ritual we go through most nights.

Then this week, long about Thursday, Mike says, “Do you know what tomorrow is?”

“Friday.”

“What else?”

Maybe he’s thinking about his lunch. He’d been looking forward to having Italian sausage and peppers for days. “Sausage and pepper day,” I say.

“What else?”

I really had to think. Friday. Day before Saturday. Saturday was our weekly weigh-in day. “Day before weigh-in day?”

“What else?”

I really had to strain my brain to figure out what he was driving at. “Start my letter blog day?” It was Mike’s idea, months ago, that I start on Friday’s. Sometimes I’ll sort pictures, sometimes I won’t.

“What else?”

That’s it. I had no more ideas. “What?”

“Day before pancake day!”

I laughed. “I didn’t know we were celebrating Pancake Eve.”

Friday’s, henceforth, shall be renamed Pancake Eve. Maybe not a national holiday but a day that is looked forward to all week long in this house!

“Peg, you can have pancakes more than once a week,” you say.

I know, right! Mike says the same thing — and I always say the same thing when he suggests it.

No. Once a week is enough. 

Only three photos left in the file for this week. 

Looks like he’s been here a while. There’s a tag to tow sticker on it and the ice storm was several days before this.

Addi with her Valentine gnome. She loves it! And look! It matches her shirt!

And I believe this is Venus in the morning sky. 

Let’s call this one done!

My Valentine

           I love my friends. I love my family, too, but that goes without saying. If I’m talking about you and you are the most beautifulest and bestest, and whatever other adjectives I use at the time, it’s because you are. And I’m not being insincere. You all hold a special place in my heart, and I’d hate to be put in the position of having to choose one over another. Across the board, you are all my beautifulest and bestest.

          I traded Valentines gifts this week with my feistiest, beautifulest, smartest, redheadedest, bestest friend in all the worldest, and one great neighbor to bootest, my Miss Rosie.

          I made little girl gnomes for Valentine’s this year. I got to use my glass saw to cut the hat and heart and that was exciting for me.

          While cutting pieces, I was thinking about the slipper shoes sticking out the bottom of the dress. I had it in my head to make them black, but a pretty piece of orange caught my eye.

          Why not orange? I wondered. I called my fashion consultant. “Miss Rosie. Now, you’re going to have to image this. I’m making little gnomes for Valentine’s Day. The hat and dress are teal, she’s holding a big red heart in front of her, and the little shoes stick out the bottom. Can I make them orange, or should I stick with black?”

          “I like teal and orange together, but the safer choice would be black,” she advised.

          “Peg, didn’t you want to surprise Miss Rosie with a gnome?” you ask.

          I’d already made something special for Miss Rosie and wasn’t going to give her a gnome, so I didn’t care if she knew about them or not.

          I’m working on the very first one and I’m dreading painting the year long before I get there. I hate making zeros! They never come out round. Rather than dwell, I put it out of my mind. When it came time, I put on my big girl pants and painted 2020 on the bottom, took pictures and posted it to the Facebook. Then and only then did I realize the year was wrong!

          Aye-yi-yi!

          I deleted the picture, scraped off 2020, put the right year on, and reposted.

          All of my free time this week was consumed making these little gnomes. I’m counting in my head the number of people I know like to receive these little gifts from me. It was then that I decided to make one for Miss Rosie, too. I know she likes my glass work and it’s okay if she already knows. Surprises can be overrated. I’d need to make seven — eight if I keep one for myself.

With the weather we’ve had this week, we haven’t had much opportunity to visit with the Kipps. We had to do all our visiting over the phone. Luckily, Lamar doesn’t limit the number of times a day I can call my Miss Rosie. He generally answers the phone and I almost always ask for her.

“Is Miss Rosie busy?” I ask after he says hello.

“I don’t know. Does reading the paper count?” he asks.

“Nope. Can I talk to her a second?”

“Okay. You got your watch?”

Not only is he the handsomest, he’s a wisenheimer, too!

I call Miss Rosie every morning except Sundays and unless she tells me a day ahead of time that she won’t be available for our morning chat. I might call her two or four times in the same day! She doesn’t seem to mind.

“It breaks up the monotony of the day,” she says.

          So, I’m working on these gnomes and an idea pops into my head. Making seven or eight of the same thing gets a little boring. I called Rosie back. “What if I make the hat and the shoes teal and make the dress orange?”

          I know what you’re thinking. Why not make the hat and dress orange and the shoes teal?

          And the answer is because I’ve already cut six teal hats — which is all I was going to make until I included Miss Rosie and myself in the count. But maybe I’ll change the color for the last two. Maybe not.

          She hesitated. I’m not convinced she thought that was a good idea, but she didn’t want to dampen my creativity.

          “I think that would be all right.”

          I just made the hats and hearts on the saw and the rest of the pieces I’m hand cutting as I need them. I’m working them through the process one at a time. I don’t want to grind and foil a ton of pieces at one time.

          Blackie’s helping.

          I was out of coffee. I pulled the pieces out of his reach and got up to make a cup. When I turn back around, I see he’s moved from the table to my chair and is pulling my copper foil out.

          Turkey.

      

          We’ve been staying in for the most part. Thursday, Mike had a doctor’s appointment. Do you remember two years ago when Mike got spots on his toes that were red and swollen and turned purple? He got them again this year.

          “I’ve been to my old doctor twice. She sent me to a foot specialist and a dermatologist where they biopsied it and nobody knows what it is. I’m going to see if Michelle knows what it is.” Mike was frustrated.

          Thursday, Mike saw his PA.

          “I know what that is!” Michelle was actually a little bit excited. “I had another patient with the exact same thing a couple of years ago! It’s…it’s…” and it wouldn’t come to her. She tried hard to pull the name to the front of her mind where she could grab it, but it wasn’t happening. She turned the computer screen so we couldn’t see it and pulled up the other patient’s records. “I had a heck of a time trying to figure out what it was.” Then she found what she was looking for. “It’s Chilblains Acral Lesions!”

          There’s no treatment, Mike just needs to keep his feet warm. No one knows what causes them.

          After our doctor visit, we went on to Tunkhannock to do a little shopping. I only took one picture for you.

          But while I’m at it, there’s another picture hanging around in my file. I took this one coming home from church last week. I was surprised to see the fog as I was coming out of the church road, so I took a picture. It looked ethereal.

          Once I actually got into it, I could smell it. It wasn’t fog, it was smoke. My first thought was someone’s burning wood. You know how sometimes it just hangs there when there’s no wind to blow it away. My second thought was, Oh my gosh! What if my house is on fire! I’m scared of fire and there’s always so many house fires this time of year. It seems like every night on the news they report another fire.

Straight across from the church road, through the woods, less than a quarter mile as the crow flies, is my house.

          “Why would you even think that Peg?” you ask.

          I just left a church service where my beautifulest friend Jody’s husband gave the message that morning.

And his message?

We don’t always thank God for the bad things that happen in our life.

Just that morning, Michael (Jody’s Michael) woke with a headache. Thinking it was the way he slept, he went downstairs to finish the night in his recliner. In the kitchen he smells smoke and here the wall heater had melted the outlet and was smoking.

“If I hadn’t of woken with a bad headache, this story could’ve had a very different outcome,” Michael said. “God is good.”

I guess house fire was on my mind.

          But I digress.

          On the way home from our shopping trip, we stopped at the Kipps’ house so I could give Miss Rosie her Valentine’s gift.

          Miss Rosie answered our knock and immediately scooped up Bondi.

Me? I’m impatient. “Okay! Okay! Put her down and sit down.” I can be a little bossy at times. Miss Rosie sat. “Are you ready?” I asked.

“Yep.”

Out of a bag I pulled a Reese’s heart box filled with peanut butter hearts.

“Ooh! My favorite!”

Next, I pulled out the two little gnomes that I had done. One with a teal skirt, one with an orange one. I let Miss Rosie pick. She liked the one with the orange skirt.

“I haven’t gotten the balance point figured out yet. It hangs a little wonky,” I told her.

I would’ve fixed it before I gave it to her, but I didn’t have time.

Miss Rosie leaned into me, as if conspiring or sharing a secret.

“Peg, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a little wonky, too!”

We laughed. She has such a melodious laugh. I love hearing it.

“Okay, but if it bothers you, I can fix it.”

“I doubt it’ll bother me.”

“Are you ready for your real present?” I asked.

“I thought this was my real present,” she said of the gnome.

“Nope! Close your eyes.” Out of the bag I pulled the Love Birds. “You can open them now.”

Rosie gasped! “Oh Peg! It’s beautiful!”

I could tell she really meant it and I was pleased.

“Didn’t you know I was talking about you last week?” I asked.

          “Nope. I know you said you couldn’t show it yet because it was for someone special in your life, but I didn’t think I was the only special person in your life,” Miss Rosie answered.

          Then I was given a gift bag for Valentine’s in return. Inside was a nifty pair of socks with cameras on them, some hand sanitizer, the perfect size for my purse, and a bag of Harvest Snaps Green Pea Crisps. Parmesan flavor.

          “Ooh, my favorite!”

          And they didn’t last long enough to make the picture either! As soon as I got home, I opened them suckers up and went to town like it was my job!

          I had a question to ask Rosie, so I called her. While I had her on the phone, I thanked her again for my gifts. I love getting gifts, but even more, I love giving gifts.

          “Those pea snacks are so good! They are a single serving bag, aren’t they?” I laughed. Not a joke at all. I really did eat the whole bag.

          “I think so. They’re puffed so full of air it’s like eating nothing at all.”

          “Tiger likes them, too. He helped me eat them.” One. He ate one.

          “Tux likes them, too,” Miss Rosie said.

          I wasn’t the only one that came away with a gift that day either.

          “Take this ball with you,” Miss Rosie said as we were leaving. “It makes noises when it’s pushed, and all dogs are supposed to love it. Tux is afraid of it. Every time he touches it, and it makes a noise, it freaks him out and he won’t have anything to do with it for a while.”

          Bondi loves the Wobble Wag Giggle Ball! She pushes that thing all around with her nose and barks at it like crazy! It does make weird noises. I think Bondi thinks there’s a critter inside and she wants it! Sometimes she gets so frustrated that when it gets close to one of her other toys, she’ll grab that toy and shake the stuffing out of it! And when Blackie went to investigate the new toy, Bondi had a fit! She snipped at home. “Mine!” And Blackie left it alone.

          I had two gnomes done when I gave Miss Rosie hers. And like I said, I’ve been spending my free time working on these little cuties. I was foiling the third one when my eyes fell on my scalloped foil. I’m kinda stingy with that stuff because I’ve only got the one roll. Wouldn’t it be cute to put scallops along her hat and the hem of her skirt? I think. I tried it and I love it! I think I’ll make all the rest of them that way.

          Working on number four, what do my eyes see? A big red heart right smack in the middle. I big red empty heart!

          I could put something on there.

          I turned to my Cricut machine and made stickers. I did BE MINE first and got it kinda crooked. I’ll probably end up tearing it off and putting a new one on because it bothers me. Doing just the word LOVE was easier. Besides, I justify in my mind, BE MINE is so Valeniney. With LOVE they could leave it up all year.

          After I finish the gnomes, I’m going to make a Love Birds for my beautifulest little sister, Phyllis, cause I love her so much and she’s been through such an awful ordeal and she loves the Love Birds, and I want to give her a little happy, happy, joy, joy.

          Luckily, or maybe not so luckily, I hadn’t put the pattern away yet. I found all the pieces except one little wing feather from the boy bird. Looking at my craft table, I can’t understand how it could've gotten lost. All the pieces were in the pile where I left them except that one little feather! That Blackie! I bet he took it.

          On the other side of the kitchen slash craft room, we had a little baking going on this week. A Pineapple Angel Food recipe came up in my Facebook feed. It has only two ingredients, pineapple and a box of angel food cake mix. Easy breezy lemon squeezy!

          But if I make it, I’ll eat.

          I know! I can share with the Kipps!

          Only, Miss Rosie does not like pineapple.

          I bet it can be made with just about any canned fruit. 

         I called and discussed it with Miss Rosie. I wanted to make sure she’d be willing to take half the cake off my hands, plus, what fruit should we try?

          I buy canned fruit and always try to get it in its own juice. If I can’t get it that way, then I buy the light syrup variety. Fruit keeps much longer in a can on the pantry shelf than on my countertop or in my fridge.

          “I have oranges, peaches, fruit cocktail, and pineapple but I know you don’t like pineapple,” I told her.

          “I like peaches,” she said.

          I was looking at several sites that had the same recipe. Some used a 9x13 cake pan, another used a Bundt pan. I have a Bundt pan! I haven’t used it in twenty years, but I have one! I decided I wanted to make in the Bundt pan. You could use whipped cream for a topping but I’m not putting anything on, and I thought the Bundt would be cuter.

          I mixed it by hand, like they said. I put it in my ungreased non-stick pan, like they said.

          Angel food needs to climb the sides and it can’t do that if you grease the pan, the site said.

          I baked it for 20 minutes, like it said. It looked a little jiggly to me, so I went ten minutes more. It still didn’t look done but it was getting quite brown.

          Don’t run a knife around the edge before it cools, or it’ll fall. And angel food cakes need to be cooled upside down or they’ll fall— more tips from the internet.

          I was afraid it would fall out if I turned it upside down while it was still so hot, plus it was above the rim of the pan. I let it cool for a while and it sank down enough I was comfortable flipping it over onto a rack. A couple of hours later, when I went to check on it, it was a mess all over my stove! It had fallen out — and it wasn’t done!

          The old me might’ve pitched the whole mess. The new old me has a very wise mother that lives on in my head. I could hear her voice. “Peggy! Put it back in the oven and bake it some more!” Momma said.

          I took hold of the cooling rack it was resting on and flipped the cake back into the pan. Twenty minutes later, I took this out of the oven.

          Silly me! The baking time for the 9x13 pan was 20-25 minutes! For the Bundt pan it was 45-50 minutes! Funny I didn’t remember that until it was too late!

          And this time I wasn’t taking any chances! He could just sit there on his bottom and get cool.

          Once it was cool, I ran a knife around the outside edge and flipped it. It didn’t come out of the pan. I flipped it back over and realized I needed to loosen it from the tube, too. Don’t laugh. I flipped it over again and it came right out onto the plate. I cut a slice and ate it. It tastes like a peach marshmallow to me. And that’s not bad. I’d totally make it again. It’s easy to make and a slice of the peach angel food only has 158 calories. That’s light enough to work into my diet when I need a little something-something.

          When Lamar went out to walk Tux and check on Mr. Cheshire, he came on up to my house and I gave him their half of the cake.

          Yummies for the peoples isn’t the only thing I was making either. I made yummies for the birds, too! I pulled a jar of saved grease out of the freezer, popped it into the oven to melt, dumped it into a bowl, added peanut butter, oatmeal, Cheerios, birdseed, and few nuts and raisins. Once it’s set, I cut it into pieces and store in the freezer. The birds really seem to like this mixture and I like the birds.

          The suet feeder attracts all kinds of birds but the majority of the time I see woodpeckers at mine.

          The bird on top in this photo is a finch. 

          My back patio has been lousy with them the last few days — and I couldn’t be more tickled!

          A couple of years ago I needed a new thistle feeder. I was tempted to buy the same cheap plastic one that I was replacing with another cheap plastic one, but right next to them were these lovely yellow metal feeders.

          “I want this one even though it’s more money,” I told my handsomest husband and he bought it for me. For weeks after I hung it out, he’d ask if I had any birds at it and I had to say no. That whole season last winter I did not have one single bird at the thistle feeder.

          A few days ago, I look out and there’s a whole herd of finches at the feeder!

          “Look at all of them!” I exclaimed.

          Mike came to look. “It doesn’t look like they mind sharing a feeder.”

          A few hours later, I was at the window with my camera. I think the Blue Jays are so funny when they sit on the roost next to the suet feeder and poke it so it swings back and forth. That’s the only way they can get any. I was trying to get a picture of that when I catch two finches in a squabble.

          I guess sharing only goes so far. 

          Besides all the finches at the feeder, there were a whole bunch of them sitting on my dead Glads waiting for a turn.

          “Maybe I’ve got so many birds because there aren’t any cats out there,” I speculated.

          “I’d say that’s a pretty good guess,” Mike agreed. 

>>>*<<<

          Mike came out of the bedroom after his shower and yelled, “Peg! Come here, quick!”

          I jumped up, full of panic.

          “What!”

          “There was a big dog on the patio.”

          I went to the door but didn’t see him. “Which way did he go?”

          “Around by the cat room,” Mike said.

          I grabbed my camera and went out to the cat room. I got there just in time to see this guy passing by along the tree line. I called, “Here buddy. C’mere boy.” I don’t know if he is a boy or not, but he ignored me.

I don’t know if his nose led him to my scrap pile or if he’d visited it before but that’s where he went.

          I was cold and jacketless, so I didn’t hang around outside to find out which way he went.

          On my morning call to my widow neighbor Sally, I asked about the dog.

          “I saw him, too! He came trotting down the road. I called to him, and I know that can be dangerous, a strange dog and all, but I figured if he came to me then he had to be friendly. But he wouldn’t.”

          We never saw this dog before and we haven’t seen him since.

          Let’s call this one done!