He Said; She Said

She said:  I don't want you to fix it.
He said:  You asked me.
She said:  I wasn't talking to you.
He said: There's nobody here but me.
She said: I'm talking to the dog.
He said:  You have to clarify when you're talking to me or the dog.

She said:  Why do you always have a "better" way to do things?

He said:  You procrastinate too much.

She said:  I don't work for you.

He said:  I want to leave on time.

She said:  You told me we were going to do it.
He said:  I never said that.
She said:  Yes, you did.
He said:  I was thinking out loud, I didn't mean we were actually going to do it.
She said:  Then don't say it if you don't intend to do it.

He said: Where's lunch?

She said: There's the kitchen.

He said:  I already cooked my own breakfast.

She said:  You make me crazy.

He said:  Why do you always wait until the last minute?

She said:  You can't go to bed yet, it's only 8:30.

He said:  Who ate all the cookies?

She said:  You're bossy.

He said:  I think I'll go read.
She said:  Have a nice nap.

He said:  Quit talking about it and go do it.

She said:  It was a great sale, look how much money I saved?
He said:  If you saved me so much money where is it?
She said:  You're no fun.



They said:  Retirement would be wonderful if we didn't have to spend so much time together.

Falling Leaves; Falling Temperatures

Fall has arrived.  Daylight savings time is making a last ditch attempt to hang on to daylight and cheat Mother Nature.  The battle is nearing an end and Mother Nature will soon be declared the victor.  Last evening it was dark at 7:30.  Not just dusk, but dark.  And here I sit at 7:06 in the a.m. and it is still dark.   The days are growing ever shorter my friends.

Leaves are beginning to collect on the ground in varying shades of red, yellow, orange & brown.  Each day we find a little more red in the maple tree next to the house.  If I could sit still long enough I believe I would be able to see the colors change right before my eyes. The neighborhood squirrels dart to and fro gathering whatever it is they gather to see them through the long winter ahead.  They are driving poor Henna crazy with their busyness.  Most of the time we keep her on the inside looking out so as not to interrupt their work.  Once in awhile we let her loose to have a little fun.

The days are also growing ever cooler, colder.  This weekend we are not expected to reach 60 degrees here at the lake.  The nights now drop into the 40s on a regular basis.  (Want to come for a visit Greg?)  The little red cottage is resilient, the old oil furnace cranks out enough heat to warm the small rooms and the fire place works like a charm (as long as there is someone willing to split the wood).   The question remaining is, just how resilient are its new inhabitants?

The word on the street is that we won't make it until Thanksgiving.  That we will pack up the beast and head south to sunny Florida by October 15th.  I don't know about that.  What I do know is that I have forgotten how to shovel snow and I don't intend to learn again.

Although a white Christmas might make for a nice a change.

Our Other Boys

Our other boys were here this past weekend for a visit.  What?  You didn't know we have two much younger boys?  We do.  They paid us a visit over the weekend.  Officially they belong to my niece but we claim them as our own from time to time.  Especially when we want to remember what it was like having two energetic, fun-loving young men around the house.  And then we return them and get down on our knees and thank God that our real boys are now grown men.  (Just kidding...sort of.)

Patrick and Logan are 9 and very, very, almost 13.  It's so close we consider it done.  Besides he's beginning to act like a teen.  Both boys are quite typical of the male species at their ages.  This one, the big one, the very, very, almost 13 one, is funny, silly, serious, bright (very, very bright), kind, independant, and studious.  He loves books, football, girls, and football.



This one, the little one, is quirky, silly, sensitive, sweet, thoughtful, bright, impish, and kind.  He loves dogs, his mother, cash, and his mother.



Upon arrival they didn't waste any time.  After all there was fishing to be done.  (The little one learned to bait his own hook & how to remove that same hook from the mouths of the little fishies.)



Video games to play.



Fish & ducks to be fed.



Red jeeps to ride in.



Hey, who let him behind the wheel?



There was fire wood to stack & split,



and a splinter to remove.  (He is soooo much like his Mother!)



Their visit took us back to a time when our own boys were young(er).  The days of hide-outs in the woods, match box cars, pick-up baseball games, & The Dukes of Hazard.  And while everything has changed, nothing has changed.  It was great having boys in the house again, listening to them pick at one another and laugh at the joke only they got.

Yet as thoughtful and polite as these two were I was still happy to return them to Mom when the weekend ended.

But guys, we sure hope you'll come back and do it again, especially when the grass needs to be mowed.

Gull Talk

What's up with this?  The air traffic controllers on strike this week?

I think they went that way.





Incoming bread at 4 o'clock.


No worries man, I got your back.

Jumping for Joy

See Henna.

See Henna run.

See Henna jump.

See Henna jump for joy.

She's a happy camper because she gets to run free and untethered.  Our dog training of last summer apparently wasn't the waste of time we feared it was.  As long as there are hot dogs in my pocket she comes when called.  I don't completely trust her....yet.  We keep a watchful eye out for distractions i.e. geese, squirrels & chipmunks.  But for now she is loving life at the cottage and her new found freedom.  And I'm lovin that happy dog smile.

Now where did I put those hot dogs.

Aim High

Recently The Kid and I had the pleasure of spending 3 wonderful days with the grandkids. It was a generous gesture Allie and G-man made when they offered to babysit us while their parents went to Auburn for a weekend of football and fun. Something we wish could happen with a little more frequency.

On Saturday evening as game time approached I inquired of our thoughtful one if one day she might wish to attend Auburn University like her parents. Her reply: "No, I think just kindergarten."

Aim high, that's what I always say.

More Trash Talk

The sun was shimmering through a thin layer of clouds. On this morning the trash can wasn't loaded down with cast-off vacuum cleaners or the accumulation of a week's worth of trash from 7 people. My smile was bright and my step light as I headed down the lane with my charge rattling along behind.

About the time I turned to head home I heard a distant rumbling. Was that thunder? Nah, it was a beautiful morning. The rumbling continued, growing ever closer.  I knew I was in trouble. I began to walk faster and faster and as the rain began to fall I broke into an all out sprint. I am petrified of thunder storms. Many years ago I came within a nano second of being struck by lightening and to this day I take no chances.

The rumbling thunder pursued like a knife wielding attacker. I picked up the pace but the fast approaching storm was relentless. My heart rate was out of control, pumping so hard and fast I was certain it would explode in my chest. I was gasping for breath and my legs were as steady as a bowl full of melting jello. It was curtains for me. If the lightening didn't kill me I would collapse and die of a heart attack.

Giving in to the pain I slowed to a walk, and then to a crawl. If I was going to die I might as well enjoy the last few moments of my life. And that's when it hit me. If I would just admit that The Kid was right I could call for the trash service to be switched from the rolling can to convenient & easily transported bags.  As I rounded the last bend in the lane I knew what I had to do.

Stay tuned for more adventures with the can.  Because yes, I AM that stubborn.

Photo: Fall on the Lane with a touch of Topaz Adjust Filter

At The Car Wash

At the car wash.

Workin' at the car wash, girl.

Come summer the work gets kinda hard.

Workin' at the car wash, yea.

Let me tell ya it's always cool.

And the boss don't mind sometimes if ya act the fool.

Talkin bout the car wash yea.

Well those cars never seem to stop coming.

Keep those rags and machines humming.

Work and work my fingers to the bone.

Can't wait til it's time to go home.

At the car wash,

Car wash.

Car Wash lyrics: Rose Royce

Action: Allie & the G-Man

Golden Rod, With a Twist

Golden Rod with a twist.

The above photograph of the dreaded weed or beautiful yellow wildflower, which ever you and your allergies prefer, is a result of motion blur. As you press the shutter give the lens a twist, it's that easy. However, a zoom lens is a must for this effect.

The Poser

Channeling his inner GQ.

Writer's Block

Of late I have been battling a very strange malady. Anyone who knows me at all will shake their head in disbelief when I tell you that I have nothing to say. I have no words, no opinions, no silly anecdotes of dog or man, no tale to weave of cottage life or sunny Florida.

It is a rare disease for sure. Usually the words well up from within and spill out willy nilly all over my key board. It takes time to gather them up and tuck them safely back inside until they can be rearranged and placed in a sequence that make sense and is entertaining as well. If I wait too long to reorganize, some of the words get lost in the recesses of my mind never to be found again.

Perhaps that is the problem. A lost word or two have become wedged in the recesses causing a blockage of creativity. Once removed, the river will again flow freely and I will return to making sense and entertaining the masses. Which all leads to a second dilemma. How does one go about finding lost words and dislodging them? Do I call a shepherd? The FBI? The Psychic Hotline? And then what? Roto Rooter?

Maybe I'll just try blowing my nose and see what happens.

Twilight

The impending sunset held a promise. There were scattered clouds, not too concentrated at the horizon. The perfect scenario for a back lit extravaganza . As the big orange ball dropped lower in the sky it took on shades of magenta and red. I ran for the camera and tripod. I was convinced that civil twilight, that part of sunrise and sunset when the sun lies just below the horizon, would be amazing. Under the right conditions civil twilight paints the sky in pinks, reds and violets and back lights the clouds with reflected light. It is often more beautiful than sunset itself.

On this night there was no light show, rather only a brief moment when the clouds glowed pink. I was there to capture it.

Life is good.

Ready, Set, Go

On your mark.

Get ready.

Get set.

GO!

Trash Day: Take II

I think he's trying to kill me.

He snuck a vacuum cleaner into the trash can this week.

If I don't die, I'm going to have buns of steele by Thanksgiving.

And that's the truth.

This Dog

This dog.

The one with the sweet face and the gentle spirit.

This dog.

The one with the beautiful golden eyes and the long golden coat.

Yes, this dog.

The one who rarely barks or gets into trouble.

This dog.

Rolled in goose poop this morning.

Got Carp

At the northern end of Pymatuning Lake lies one of the strangest tourist attractions known to man, the Spillway. I attempted to do some research on the spillway (I always want my readers to be accurately informed) but its history is sketchy.

The northeastern portion of the lake is mostly conservation land. The level of the water in this location is slightly higher than the larger north/south portion of the lake. At some point a "spillway" was built which allows the water to spill over the edge of a large concrete bowl into the lower side of the lake. For some unknown reason back in the 1930s fish began to congregate in this area and people began feeding them bread. I use the term fish lightly as the only fish I have ever seen are carp. Thousands and thousands of bread sucking carp too lazy to forage for food on their own lie in wait for the free meal they know will arrive on a daily basis. There are so many fish located in this small area that it is billed as the place "where ducks walk on fish." Which they do from time to time in an effort to beat the carp to the bread.

I visited here as a child on more than one occasion. At that time there were a couple of outhouses, a parking lot and a crumbling walkway that led to the "bowl." And it was always packed with people. People who hoarded stale bread for weeks and gathered to toss it, slice by slice to the waiting fish. Today there is a modern bathroom, paved walkways and a concession stand. (I guess the state decided if you can't beat em make some money off of em.) Along with the typical tourist trap souvenirs of t-shirts and shot glasses, loaves of bread are sold for $1.

We took our children to the spillway when they were young (there is an infamous family tale involving Stephen, his grandfather and an outhouse but I'll spare him the humiliation today and just get on with my post) so it was a given that we should take our grandchildren as well.

When the appointed morning arrived there was so much of interest happening around the cottage (like mowing the yard) that no one but me could muster much enthusiasm for the outing.

But remember I'm stubborn, and persistent, so eventually everyone tired of hearing me whine and piled into the car for the short drive north.

No one was disappointed. Listening to the squeals of delight from Allie & the G-man and seeing their broad smiles as they tossed bread to the open mouthed carp was priceless.

Pappy showed the kiddos how to work the fish into a chaotic frenzy by heaving as much bread as possible as quickly as possible over the side of the fence.

More squeals followed along with excited pleas for "more bread peas, more bread."

Of course there was the usual adult discussion about what would happen should a human accidentally toss himself over the edge in his excitement. Some thought he would be sucked to death by the heaving mass of carp.

Me I just think he'd have a lot of explaining to do when he got home covered from head to toe with carp hickeys.