Poop time.  It can take HOURS.  I scream.  I cuss.  I count.  I rail.  I badger.  I chase.  I threaten.

Then, miracle of miracles, when he FINALLY goes, I praise his little fluffy ass to the skies and give him a treat.  I’ve been doing this for years–you’d think he’d catch on.

This past week there’s been a red-tailed hawk sitting on the powerlines close to my house.  I haven’t been able to get a clear picture of him with my camera–he takes off as soon as I get into close enough range–but I have to admit I’ve been utterly fascinated by him.  Until this past week, I’d never seen one before.  I mentioned the hawk to Jen and she told me that, in totem speak, the hawk was supposed to be a messenger.  If that’s the case, all I can say is that I hope he’s bringing some good news.   

For the past couple of days, I have been in a terrible mood and I don’t know why.  I just came off a wonderful weekend with a couple of my very best friends.  My house was clean when I got home.  The book I’m working on is cooperating.  In the grand scheme of things, all is well with my world.

So…what’s my problem?  Why am I in this funk?  Better still, does this ever happen to you?  Do you ever have unexplained bitchiness?  If so, please tell me.  I’d like to feel better. (And misery loves company, right? )

Food!  We’re talking about retreat food over at the Soapbox Queens!  Click on over!

1.) If you aren’t a wine drinker, even one named Novella doesn’t taste good.  (And since we were plotting a novella, I thought for sure it would be different.)

2.) Nothing smells better than a crackling fire, bread baking and the scent of this candle, even when the smoke alarm is going off.

3.) Vicki is the fire master.  She can coax a beautiful flame from a single dying coal.

4.) Jen is a thoughtful hostess, always offering to make tea, bring a drink, provide a snack, etc…  She also never sleeps and has the best laugh of anyone I have ever heard.

5.) Staying in pajamas all day is perfectly acceptable behavior, particularly when you’re with friends who are disinclined to change as well.  I don’t think I ever even brushed my hair on Saturday.  Teeth?  Yes.  Hair.  I don’t think so.

6.) Being with people who “get” you is a beautiful thing. 

Well, Gentle Readers, I’m headed off to meet Jen and Vicki!

We will work.  We’ll plot, plan, hash through character problems, mull over the state of the business.  And we’ll eat.  And we’ll laugh.  Then eat more.  And laugh more.

I. Can’t. Wait.

See you Monday!  (With pictures!)

So I’m laying there in bed last night, convinced that I have forgotten to do something important, but I can’t remember what it is.  Oh, well, I think.  If I can’t remember, it couldn’t have been too important, right?

Wrong.

It was my day to blog at The Soapbox Queens.

Guess who sat bolt upright in bed this morning at 5:55 and remembered?  *raises hand* 

In other news, we don’t have a puppy yet.  All of the puppies my mom’s interested in have been spayed and neutered now, but the microchipping has to be completed before she can bring one home.  We’re hoping to get to do this today, but we’ll see.  As soon as she has one, though, I will post pictures of the new fur-baby.

It’s Wednesday, so whine on.

Today I am more than likely going to go with my mother to pick out a new dog.  Her little toy poodle–a present from me almost two years ago–is lonely while my mom is at work, and needs a companion.  A local shelter has a litter of chihuahua/rat terrier mix puppies.  They are tiny.  They are cute.  They need a home.

But one of them can’t have mine.

Daughter has already looked at the puppies online and chosen one, has written a letter promising to take “full responsibility:–ha! like I haven’t heard that before–and son insists that our Ollie would be much happier with a playmate.  Presently we’ve got two dogs and a rabbit and I can’t take on another pet at the moment. 

I. CAN’T.

Seriously.

I have to be strong.  I cannot weaken.

Dear Monday,

     Go away. I’m not ready. It’s pretty and cool outside, and I want to sit in my swing and read a good book.  I want to experiment with new fall recipes, do crafty things and start planning my Thanksgiving dinner.  I want to make hot apple cider–though I don’t drink hot stuff–and bake apple pies and pecan tarts and sugar cookies.  I want to turn on my gas logs and watch the cozy fire.  I want to take long naps and wear sweatpants and basically veg out and enjoy the blissfully cool weather after this horribly long, miserable summer.

     That’s all.  Thank you.

~Rhonda

PS–Note to editor: I’m not going to do *any* of this stuff.  I’m going to work.   Just thought I’d better mention that.

Well, sorta.  I got an email from Jen yesterday with pictures from a 1977 JC Penney catalog and it absolutely made me howl.  I was 6 years old in 1977 and can remember lots of things from that time period in my life.  The big bag of M&M’s in my stocking at Christmas.  The baby birds I found in the chimney.  Picking plums off the tree in my grandmother’s back yard.  Penny candy.  However, I cannot remember ANY of this…

and this

and this

I don’t recall my parents ever dressing alike and if they did, I am certain I have blocked it out.

In fact, I seem to have blocked out anything to do with fashion from that time.  Now I know why.

Have a great weekend, everyone!