Take it inside, Buddy, this is my bathroom.

True story. This might be more information than some of you want to know, so if it is I apologize for embarrassing you. However, I won't see your cheeks turn red and it's a funny story.

Recently, My Darling Husband needed to use the restroom like any normal human does. It was occupied by yours truly at the time and our house has only one bathroom. (Yes, families still survive with only one bathroom per house.) He really had to go. So outside he went, to a secluded area of our back yard.

CutieDog likes to follow us in and out of the house, so he did his normal following or maybe he was already out there. My Darling Husband is standing there doing his thing, and up saunters our dog, stands next to him and simultaneously turns another patch of grass into a second bathroom stall.

let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

We have snow! It finally snowed in southeast Kansas last week. What a refreshing sight to see, after envying all the other snowfall in other parts of the US. After the dry autumn we had, we've needed this snow. And yes, I need to put our Christmas tree away. My Darling Husband's birthday is in December, but prior to Christmas. This time around I waited until after his birthday to put up the tree, just as his mother used to do when he was growing up. It seems like such a waste of time to have it set up for only a week or two, so I've waited until way past the New Year to take the tree down. It's going in the box this weekend.Or I could leave it up and decorate it with hearts for Valentine's Day. Just kidding, Mr. H.Cutie Dog is quite fond of the snow. First thing on his list was to eat it.
When he was a stray, it was winter. There was still ample snow on the ground when we brought him into our home. So I had been curious how he would react to the snow this winter.

My Darling Husband forwarded this funny email to me:

Why It's Great to Be a Dog

1. No one expects you to take a bath every day.
2. If it itches, you can scratch it.
3. A rawhide bone (or a rag in Cutie Dog's case) can entertain you for hours.
4. If you grow hair in weird places, nobody notices.
5. You can lay around all day without worrying about being fired.
6. You don't get in trouble for putting your head in a stranger's lap.
7. You're always excited to see the same people.
8. Having big feet is considered an asset.
9. Puppy love can last.

oh, so that's what it is called

This summer at work I am with the five- and six-year old children. I work at a daycare. I like the children best when they are being angelic, unintentionally make me laugh at something they do, and when they are quiet! So I relish leaving the DIN each day and coming home to ahhh!, a quiet house.
In the category of making me laugh at something they do, today my class and I were coming inside from eating popsicles out in the yard. While waiting for the other children to line up a couple of the girls were having a conversation together. One said to the other, "You know that stuff dogs get under their eyes? That's eyeball juice".

every day, life is peaceful in a small town

sigh. faint. A celebrity read my blog! Well, a well-known local anyway. Mr. Wyckoff himself, whom I quoted here, saw that post and he promptly sent me this photograph of him and his bank staff dressed for Halloween. Even small-town bankers and accountants like to have fun.

It's a bird...it's a plane, no...it's SuperWitch! She flew smack-dab into the electric pole in the countryside. She almost made it to town. I've seen these witch dolls attached to chimneys, trees and other tall things in The Big City, but there was just something hilarious about driving home through farming country recently and suddenly spotting one fastened to an electric pole. As if the witch was flying cross-crountry and had a mishap almost in the middle of nowhere!

are you making this deposit into your savings, checking, or just on our lawn?

This paragrah is so small-town life! (The complete article, written by Bill Wyckoff, can be read here.) Just nonchalantly ride your horse through town as if there's no such thing as a vehicle. You can do that in a really small town. In The Small Town you might receive a few surprised looks from motorists. In The Big City, a horseowner would have to drive over to the stables where the horse is boarded, and probably have to get a special permit for a one-time ride through town or participate with your horse in a parade.

"....I just received a cell call from Janet, a long time bank employee. She sounded distraught; I thought something was really wrong. She said a group of kids on horse back came by the bank when she was leaving the parking lot. I’m thinking one of the horses must have kicked her car, bucked off a young rider or something. I ask if she was OK, she said yes but one of the horses left a huge deposit of road apples right in the middle of our drive-in lane.
I broke out laughing, and she said, “I really didn’t expect that reaction from you."
So there you have it, the life of a banker in a small rural town. If the dogs aren’t leaving deposits on the front lawn then the horses are in the back. I must have had too much fun today so I’m headed out to check on my cows.
Hope you are having a great day also."

communication is key

My Darling Husband and I have great communication skills.

He says things without saying a word and I get the message.

"Come to bed, Honey. You shouldn't stay up so late."


"Will you do something already with the giant squash that's been sitting on the kitchen counter for the last two weeks!?"And here the poor squash is crying out for help: Help me! I'm a vegetable.

and you thought women have too many shoes

In honor of the classic Saturday morning cartoons, I want to post something funny on Saturday mornings. I grew up with Tom & Jerry, Daffy Duck, Mickey Mouse, Wiley Coyote...those were the good cartoons! None of this new-fangled human/robot hybrids spitting lightning. Ahhh, bring back innocence.

These jokes that I post probably will all have been thought up by someone else, since my humor is more situational and impetuous than to just make up a joke from thin air as some lucky-duck people can do. Today's joke is just hilarious!

This guy was so lonely that he decided life would be more fun if he had a pet. So he went to the pet store and told the owner that he wanted to buy an unusual pet. After some discussion he finally bought a centipede, which came in a little white box to use for his house.
He took the box home, found a good location for the box, and decided he would start off by taking his new pet to the bar for a drink.
So, he asked the centipede in the box, "Would you like to go to Frank's place with me and have a beer?" But there was no answer from his new pet. This bothered him a bit, but he waited a few minutes and then asked him again,"How about going to the bar and having a drink with me?" But again there was no answer from his new friend and pet.
So he waited a few minutes more, thinking about thesituation. He decided to ask him one more time, this time putting his face up against the centipede's house and shouting, "Hey, in there! Would you like to go to Frank's place and have a drink with me?"
A little voice came out of the box: "I heard you the first time! I'm putting my shoes on!"

the difference between a man and a woman

re: Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus. My Darling Husband and I both are in need of new eye spectacles, says the optometrist.

We don't just get our eyes examined and choose our new eyeglass frames simultaneously on one appointment. Well, I don't. My Darling Husband does. He came out of the examining rooms and went straight for the frame boutique. A mere 15 minutes and 8 frames later, he is the proud owner of new eyeglasses.

Me on the other hand? Eye examination...check. Into the frame boutique, spend an hour, select 5 frames to borrow (an advantage of our small-town optometrist). Go home, have My Darling Husband take snapshots of me in various frames, email snaps to family and friends for their wisdom, mull over their replies and the frames for a week. Repeat process twice.

One month later I am still wearing my current prescription. My Darling Husband just doesn't understand...choose one already! But I can't just choose the 8th frame I pick up. This is a very important decision that affects every day of my life with those glasses. I want an exact copy of my current glasses. They're like a pair of well-fitting jeans--just have to stick with what fits and looks good.

So I'm off to a different frame boutique at a different optometrist's office tomorrow. Maybe the 20th pair will be the charm.

and now for dessert

Happy St. Patrick's Day! No parades here in The Small Town for this day, but individuals have decorated themselves and their houses in hopes of being Irish. Or to ward off pinching. When My Darling Husband was a wee lad, he tainted his family's new gallon of milk with green food coloring one St. Patrick's Day. Apparently, the sight of cereal swimming in green milk was unappetizing, so his mother went and bought a new gallon of milk. My Darling Husband was designated as the sole consumer of the green milk.

So, in honor of him and St. Patrick, here's some new green milk to go with the brownie and mint chocolate ice cream.

country kittens

A friend emailed this picture to me today. I don't know where it came from or who took it, or even if it's real. Looks genuine. Here is the caption that came with the photo:
"So, there I was . . . just relaxing and then the kids yelled, 'Hey Mom, come see the kittens'."

In the Big City, we called these skunks. Around here, these black and white creatures are country kittens, and their spray is "country perfume". I smelled the effects of one around the neighborhood the other night, when My Darling Husband and I were outside in the cool evening air. Runnn!! I'll take a bed of roses, thank you.

Can you imagine getting sprayed by one? Life would come to a temporary halt, as nobody would want to socialize with you. My father once ran into a skunk and came home wearing the evidence. My parents tried all sorts of ways to make dad's clothes like new again. Finally, mom buried his clothes in the ground. Either to erase them from dad's memory or to let the dirt absorb the nasal assault.