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they are soooo....

Wednesday, July 23, 2014
nasty. I have been chasing and stomping those gigantic black grasshoppers. When they hop, I do too, to try to get a shoe down on them before they jump again.   These are not the multicolored ones people call Georgia Thumpers, but a greatly enlarged version the ones that are completely black, except for a yellow line down the back. I was busily stomping on the little version back in the spring, when they were half an inch long, newly hatched.  But obviously did not even begin to get them all, as they have matured into something that is gruesome, especially when I do get a good stomp going and that stuff oozes out.   
I know I have smushed at least a dozen today, and expect there are that many more leisurely chomping away on my landscaping, if I would stay out there waiting for them to surface. There are corpses all over the yard.  So icky nothing, birds, what-have-you, is interested in eating the remains.
And several from a week ago right by the boxwood planted near the driveway: it looks like they just dessicate and pretty much remain intact. Some were even in the act of reproducing, so I am really glad I got those two lovebirds, to keep them from making more for next summer's stomp fest.

there is nothing...

...beneficial about insufficient sleep. Especially the part where one is cranky for the next eighteen hours until getting caught up - if 'caught up' is even possible. I know when experiencing the jet-lag phenomena, you don't ever feel like you have found or replaced those hours of sleep you did not benefit from. Even when you go in the opposite direction and think you have regained those missing hours.

So I spent the entire day yesterday being po'ed about not getting to work on time. In addition to being considerably irritated from having been awakened numerous times by the whining, desperately begging animal. Resulting in my getting up numerous times to go threaten the little pooch with bodily harm. All of which combined to produce a state of unnecessary crankiness, and mild resentment about my agreement to 'dog sit' for a week.

In the process of trying to figure out how to avoid such a problematic situation every night until the week-long 'sentence' is up, I thought: 'what to do'? A suggestion to not crate the fuzzball overnight was  not acceptable. The crate, though at the other end of our small house, is simply not far enough away. Or maybe just not separated by enough doors? Making me regret taking down the door to the laundry room.

But if more doors be the solution: that is easily solvable. I put her crate out in the carport. I suspect there was no difference in her behavior overnight. But - did I ever sleep good! When the alarm went off at 5:00 a.m., I turned it off and went back to sleep. Thankyouverymuch. There is  no doubt in my mind that there was considerable pitifulness emitting from the crate overnight, but I only heard a couple of 'yips' early this morning.

And she was so happy to see me, or more likely, just happy to be released from overnight bondage, she went air-borne when I opened the door to the crate this morning about 7:00. It's a wonder that little fluffy tail did not wag completely off. I will admit to feeling badly about putting her out overnight, but I know she was saef, thre in the carport, in an enclosed crate that takes opposable thumbs to open. I did get a good night's sleep.

I worry about the underweight cat when she is out overnight, as I often hear owls calling close by. And know there are coyotes in the area, as well as other large hunting birds. I've seen a hawk the past two afternoons when I am headed home.  And the cat is definitely small enough for an owl to grab and take off with. I am just a tad guilty due to being convinced she was mistreated before finding a happy home with E., who will be a good dog owner and caretaker. I think I will be able to the over the guilt of putting her out at night, surely by bedtime

had there been enough time...

Tuesday, July 22, 2014
...it's likely I would have strangled that little dog this  morning before I dashed out the door. I generally get up at 5:00, to leave the house by 5:30 and get to the store by 5:45. For whatever reason, (likely my failure to compute/ignorance with tech. stuff) my alarm did  not go off, and I was about 6:20 leaving. I have decided to blame it on the dog. As  in 'the dog ate my homework'. My version is that dang dog stayed up all night whining about being confined. I know it needs to sleep in the crate, and not roam the house. But it's not working here.

I understand the owner puts her in a crate to sleep at night, so can't guess why she is prone to bark and be chatty in an incessant manner. I'm told you just go tell her to hush, and emphatically say 'No'. Which I think happened about six times throughout the night. I'm blaming that fact on my getting up off and on for hours when I would hear that pest at the other end of the house, desperately begging for attention. Which she got... in the same way that bad behavior is often rewarded in classrooms, I guess.

I was so #$%*ed off at her all day for my getting to work thirty minutes late, I was still steaming when I got home this afternoon. And can't decide whether to put her on a string and take her for a walk, or kick her in the butt. This would, I know, be pointless, as she would have no idea what the booting was about, and I am pretty sure she has had feet hurt her in the past.  I also am contemplating putting the crate out in the carport so I cannot hear her when she tunes up after I tell her it is time to go to bed. Any suggestions?

if you like cold grits...

Monday, July 21, 2014
... you might find that you can enjoy cold oatmeal. No guarantee, of course, because first you have to get past the idea of eating something straight from the fridge. A breakfast food that your mom always served in hot off the stove in warm bowls with brown sugar and possibly raisins stirred in. This is certainly 'not your mama's' version.

I've had it a couple of times in Decatur and decided I like it well enough to stir up some at my house. So I requested the recipe to get the basic ingredients and measurements right. Then, as you might suspect, the first thing I did was to start tinkering with the recipe. Never one to leave well enough alone, or walk by stinky things on the beach without inspecting, wishing for a stick to give it a poke.

The recipe forwarded to me from a blog, calls for Greek yogurt, which I cannot make myself like. I knew I didn't when I first tried it, under duress, from the person who said: you're gonna love this. Wrong. Texture? Flavor? Whatever. I couldn't like it. But tried again when I read it has so much more protein and calcium than what I have been buying and eating all these years. Still not liking it. So at least I know not to buy something I will have to force myself to consume. Regular yogurt works just as well, along with using the Almond milk, unflavored version, that has more calcium than what a cow can produce.

So this is the basic recipe. I tripled it to make enough to fill three little half-pint canning jars, and put in the fridge. I bought fresh blueberries at work yesterday and put a dozen or so on top before I started spooning it in my mouth. Delicious, and just like your mama claimed - it sticks with you.

Cold Oatmeal (yeah, I know - it sounds gruesome...)
1/4 cup Old Fashioned oatmeal -don't use quick cook
1/4 cup yogurt - recipe calls for greek, but that won't be me: Publix light, fat free vanilla
1/3 cup skim milk - I used Almond milk, unflavored
1 & 1/2 tsp. chia seeds

stir well, put in fridge to thicken, overnight. The blog/website has lots of good recipes for add-ins, fruit and flavorings. I tripled the recipe to make three jars, and have already had to make it aga.in this morning, after consuming two-thirds of my efforts last night and today.

Pleased to evaluate all the ingredients and discover the jar comes to about 3 1/2 points for WW. Happy to know that WW does not make you count fruit and plain veg. so those berries don't add sin to the end product. According to the website, each serving is about 7 points, but that is with all the other goodies that are included, like mango, or bananas, or maple syrup

If you google it up, you might find it called summer porridge, which I assume means the stuff Golidlocks was eating, having gotten too cool in the smallest bowl, was actually Cold Oatmeal, stirred by the devoted loving hands of Mama Bea.

wurkin'...( with photo added)

I was supposed to work today (Sunday) from 11 until 6, but ran out of things to do, so I left early. The schedule was designed for me to be there until six, but I left soon after five, though I did some shopping, so was a bit later starting home. There was a reason for the early leaving, and the lateness of actually getting on the road. I encountered a turtle that, like the 'chicken', was attempting to cross the road...

It would have surely been smooshed if I had not stopped and spirited it away from cars going sixtyplus miles an hour. It was at the busy intersection of Macon Road and where I would turn to go home. I noticed it as soon as I got into the intersection, and wanted to stop to provide assistance. But the light was green, and there were vehicles headed toward me. I pulled over out of traffic, and anxiously waited for the other cars to whiz through, cringing, with the full expectation that the hardback would get crunched. But it didn't and I dashed out to grab it up as soon as the cars passed.

Oddly enough, I had a bucket in my car, left over from the flowers I took down to the Artist's Guild exhibition last night. So I put the turtle in the bucket and drove on home. Put it out on the driveway, and noticed the cat being very suspicions. She got close, the shell started to open up a bit, and she made a hasty retreat. I picked up the turtle and took it into the back yard and left it there, to find it's way in the world.

They are certainly making a comeback in the panhandle. That is the third one I have picked up in the past couple of months, and the fourth I have seen. The others were what I have always called 'box turtles' with a dome shaped shell. This one had a flatter shell, but was about the size in diameter of a salad plate, much bigger than the others I have seen recently. I think it might be some sort of aquatic turtle, as it's shell was very muddy, looking like it had come out of the pond on the property at the corner of the intersection. It had toenails that were about half an inch long, so don't think they are used for digging, or they would have been worn down shorter.


Sunday, July 20, 2014
I have been fairly diligent about walking every afternoon since I started back with watching pounds. Even on the days I am working, on my feets for hours on end, I have been trying to get in a couple of miles late in the afternoon, as the sun is going down.  Just around the neighborhood going on a little route I have mapped out and measured that is right at 2 miles.

I was out there last Thursday, and thought I had the energy to do an extra mile. So instead of my usual route, I made a right turn and started up Jackson. Following a smooth sidewalk, to make it easier. I got started up a small incline, and passed several houses, and saw two young girls walking dogs headed towards me. I passed them. And thought: I cannot turn around now, they will think I am a wuss. I would not quit, and allow them to see me passing them again, so kept on, walking to the end of the street. Where I turned around to head back home.

Meaning that though I did not mean to, I accidently walked four miles that afternoon. Remarkable, I was thinking: as I had also worked all day, and been on my weary feets for eight hours. But after I proved to myself I could do it, I decided I should get up and do it again on Friday morning. And then got on the scales to discover I had lost a great big whopping: two-tenths of a pound. Was it worth it? No. But interesting to realize I had the energy and motivation to walk that distance.

completely trivial...

Saturday, July 19, 2014
I was looking at a desk calendar that has the days numbered through the end of the year. Which is how we get in flowers, sleeved into bunches, packed in boxes from south America, with barcodes, prices and dated from 1 through 364 or 5. Math-impaired, I am constantly referring to the calendar with numbers listed for the entire year, to know how old the bouquets on display are. Though I can usually just look, especially at foliage on stems, and make a judgment call, it's useful to know the actual ship date.

And noticed that July 2 is the Tipping Point. With the same number of days in either direction. If you count towards the end, or head back towards the beginning you find the number of days is the same: 182. Nothing neatly fits in when there is the occasional year where we have to add the 1/4 days accumulated over a number of months, and force an extra day onto Feb. But it is interesting to note that July 2 is the middle. Yeah, me too. I thought it would be June 21, when the summer solstice is printed on the calendar. But the absolute middle is July 2. If you are interested...