Hello everyone! It's Runtly, the ever so entertaining Jack Russell Terrier, JRT, for short. Mom has been busy involving herself in a bunch of political hoopla and I told her she needed to back away from the computer. I decided she needed to come back to reality and understand the real meaning of life.
I took her outside and told her to listen. Just listen. We could here birds chirping, crows making that nasty sound they make, I don't like crows. We could hear people talking and geese honking.
I told her to take a good look around. For one, there were hundreds of trees for me to pee on, although she didn't seem to be impressed with my take on trees. So I kicked pine needles in all directions, with all four feet at the same time, just to show her my toxic masculinity, silly humans, and that did make her smile. Then we looked and saw all the birds who were chirping and the cawing crows. We watched the ripples on the pond made by the lonesome duck paddling across the water. I wanted to make him go really fast, to see if he could kick up a rooster tail, but Mom said that wasn't a very good idea.
We walked for a long time and I told Mom to smell the air. She looked at me with the same tilt of her head that I give to her, but it didn't take too long for her to catch on. We sniffed the air. We could smell the rain that had fallen the day before. We could smell the hamburgers cooking at the fast food joint up the street. I think I'd like to try one of those. We could smell the burnt toast aroma from a little bistro that really should change their name to "The Burnt Toast Factory", because they burn it everyday. Bistro.....I like that word....Bistro. I wanted Mom to get down on the ground so she could get a whiff of what I can smell down here, but she declined. Too bad, she doesn't know what she's missing.
I told Mom to just pay attention. Pay attention to what was going on around her all the time. There is always something happening! It could be a squirrel or leaves blowing across the road. It could be the wind blowing up against her face or an airplane in the sky. It could be a tree limb cracking or a siren in the distance. I can hear those a mile away and I don't like them one bit!
We sat on a bench and I set in her lap. Just the two of us, me and Mom. She says that's not proper grammar.....grammar swammar. I looked deep into her eyes and she scratched my ears and the side of my neck. I really like it when she scratches the side of my neck. I gave a big sigh, Mom does that too, and curled up in her lap. I closed my eyes and took a short siesta, without a care in the world and we just enjoyed that very moment. And that, my friends is the true meaning of life. Mom says I'm not supposed to start a sentence with the word 'and'. Dogs can roll their eyes too. Woof!
Friday, February 22, 2019
Tuesday, February 19, 2019
For The Most Part
The scheduled appointment was for 10:30 a.m. She left in plenty of time to arrive promptly. At least that is what she thought. She did not realize she would be right smack in the middle of university buildings at Chapel Hill.
She arrived at the parking garage, on the 4th level and the time was 10:15. The map showed her the building she needed to be in was just across the street. Not seeing any signs as to which way to go, she wandered, on foot, aimlessly. When she emerged from the parking garage she had absolutely no idea where she was. She felt like she had played one of those games where people put their heads on the top of a ball bat and spin in circles. She was so close and so hopelessly lost at the same time.
She looked up and down the street at all the buildings, wondering which one she needed to be in. There were no people in sight. Then she noticed a young man, walking her direction, in the distance. As he got closer, she yelled at him, but like most people who walk on two legs, he had earbuds in his ears and was oblivious to her cries. He got closer and she yelled again....still nothing. With nothing to lose, she shouted as loud as she could and began to wave her arms. He noticed.
He was of Middle Eastern descent. He hurried across the street and listened carefully to her plight. He pointed her in the right direction and assured her she could not miss the building, once she got to a certain intersection. She thanked him profusely and he wished her well.
She arrived at the intersection, the building was exactly where he had told her. Now, she only had to figure how to get into it. There was a white man, dressed in a hazard vest and hard hat standing a few feet away. Although she thought he was probably with a construction unit, as there was much construction going on all around the area, she threw caution to the wind and asked him if the entrance she could see, was the correct way to enter the building.
He motioned across the street and pointed to people, about a block away, that were going up and down a flight of steps. That was were she needed to go.
She arrived at 11:00, thirty minutes late. The receptionist assured her that all was not lost. She was in and out in just a little over an hour. As she left, a young black man was headed out the door at the same time. She noticed something had fallen from his back pocket and pointed it out to him. He stopped, retrieved his appointment papers and thanked her profusely. They chatted as they walked down the steps and then went their separate ways.
The reason for the ethnic descriptions is this.....For the most part, all people are good. For the most part, all people get along with others that may look and think differently. For the most part, we are one big family. Beware of those who would rather see us divided by hate and lies.
She arrived at the parking garage, on the 4th level and the time was 10:15. The map showed her the building she needed to be in was just across the street. Not seeing any signs as to which way to go, she wandered, on foot, aimlessly. When she emerged from the parking garage she had absolutely no idea where she was. She felt like she had played one of those games where people put their heads on the top of a ball bat and spin in circles. She was so close and so hopelessly lost at the same time.
She looked up and down the street at all the buildings, wondering which one she needed to be in. There were no people in sight. Then she noticed a young man, walking her direction, in the distance. As he got closer, she yelled at him, but like most people who walk on two legs, he had earbuds in his ears and was oblivious to her cries. He got closer and she yelled again....still nothing. With nothing to lose, she shouted as loud as she could and began to wave her arms. He noticed.
He was of Middle Eastern descent. He hurried across the street and listened carefully to her plight. He pointed her in the right direction and assured her she could not miss the building, once she got to a certain intersection. She thanked him profusely and he wished her well.
She arrived at the intersection, the building was exactly where he had told her. Now, she only had to figure how to get into it. There was a white man, dressed in a hazard vest and hard hat standing a few feet away. Although she thought he was probably with a construction unit, as there was much construction going on all around the area, she threw caution to the wind and asked him if the entrance she could see, was the correct way to enter the building.
He motioned across the street and pointed to people, about a block away, that were going up and down a flight of steps. That was were she needed to go.
She arrived at 11:00, thirty minutes late. The receptionist assured her that all was not lost. She was in and out in just a little over an hour. As she left, a young black man was headed out the door at the same time. She noticed something had fallen from his back pocket and pointed it out to him. He stopped, retrieved his appointment papers and thanked her profusely. They chatted as they walked down the steps and then went their separate ways.
The reason for the ethnic descriptions is this.....For the most part, all people are good. For the most part, all people get along with others that may look and think differently. For the most part, we are one big family. Beware of those who would rather see us divided by hate and lies.
Tuesday, February 12, 2019
Ground Beef
Many years ago, three sisters and their mother, would come together during a special weekend in the autumn part of the year. This weekend was spent traveling all over the county, in the Land of Pike, to see the wares of local artisans. On the last day of this special time, their mother would have sandwiches ready for their late afternoon meal. The sandwich filling was beef spread. It was made with a can of cooked beef and boiled eggs, that were pushed through one of those old grinders that clamped on the table......the old fashioned food processor... mayo and a bit of pickle relish. It was the only time of the year the three sisters would have such a delightful and tasty sandwich because no one could make it quite like their mother..........
As I was working on a future work of art, I heard the timer on the stove beep. It always beeps one minute before the time is up. It was at this same time the Voice, that lives in my head, walked past the door in full fireman gear. I rolled my eyes and headed for the stove, proving to the Voice that I had everything under control. I had purchased a lovely cut of beef, a managers special,with a lovely price, to have for supper that evening. We do not eat a lot of beef, except for hamburger. The main reason for that is not the cost. It's the fact that my husband only likes it fixed the way his mother fixed it, which was always marinated with her special blend of soy sauce and spices. I know the blend, but I tend to not think that far ahead. I usually think about what we will have for supper somewhere about 2 in the afternoon. Marinated beef needs to soak at least overnight.
I had an excellent idea for this cut of meat. Instead of marinating it, I cut it into large chunks, rubbed each piece with the blend of spices and soy sauce, seared each side in a large cast iron skillet and poured in some broth. I then reduced the heat to simmer, put a lid on the skillet and set the timer......for an hour.
As I approached the stove, I could see a faint trail of what was not steam, escaping from beneath the edge of the lid. I picked the lid up just enough to see that I could not see the meat for the smoke. Knowing how this works from past experiences, I slammed the lid back down and went into high speed, super woman mode. As I raced through the front room, the Voice put the oxygen mask on and turned on the tank.
My first mission was to get the fan and point it at the smoke alarm. Runtly, the ever so entertaining Jack Russell Terrier, goes berserk when the smoke alarm goes off and I didn't need him in the mix of cooking madness. Then I raced around the apartment opening patio doors at each end. Once that was accomplished, I ran back to the stove, turned on the range hood fan and removed the lid. Yep, my broth was all gone and my lovely pieces of beef were welded to the bottom of the skillet. So, I poured some beef broth in the skillet. The thought of 'liquid smoke' wafted through my brain, but in reality, it was liquid cremation. Realizing this was a really bad idea, I grabbed a spatula and began to chisel the beef parts off the skillet.
Not to be completely outdone, I tossed the pieces onto a cutting board. From there I cut all the burnt bottoms off each chunk, put them in a crock pot, covered them with broth and hoped for the best.
We had pork steak for supper that evening. I later made beef spread with the lovely managers' special, delightfully priced and extremely dry chunks of beef. But, like I mentioned earlier, no one can make it quite like Mother and the Voice wanted no part of it.
As I was working on a future work of art, I heard the timer on the stove beep. It always beeps one minute before the time is up. It was at this same time the Voice, that lives in my head, walked past the door in full fireman gear. I rolled my eyes and headed for the stove, proving to the Voice that I had everything under control. I had purchased a lovely cut of beef, a managers special,with a lovely price, to have for supper that evening. We do not eat a lot of beef, except for hamburger. The main reason for that is not the cost. It's the fact that my husband only likes it fixed the way his mother fixed it, which was always marinated with her special blend of soy sauce and spices. I know the blend, but I tend to not think that far ahead. I usually think about what we will have for supper somewhere about 2 in the afternoon. Marinated beef needs to soak at least overnight.
I had an excellent idea for this cut of meat. Instead of marinating it, I cut it into large chunks, rubbed each piece with the blend of spices and soy sauce, seared each side in a large cast iron skillet and poured in some broth. I then reduced the heat to simmer, put a lid on the skillet and set the timer......for an hour.
As I approached the stove, I could see a faint trail of what was not steam, escaping from beneath the edge of the lid. I picked the lid up just enough to see that I could not see the meat for the smoke. Knowing how this works from past experiences, I slammed the lid back down and went into high speed, super woman mode. As I raced through the front room, the Voice put the oxygen mask on and turned on the tank.
My first mission was to get the fan and point it at the smoke alarm. Runtly, the ever so entertaining Jack Russell Terrier, goes berserk when the smoke alarm goes off and I didn't need him in the mix of cooking madness. Then I raced around the apartment opening patio doors at each end. Once that was accomplished, I ran back to the stove, turned on the range hood fan and removed the lid. Yep, my broth was all gone and my lovely pieces of beef were welded to the bottom of the skillet. So, I poured some beef broth in the skillet. The thought of 'liquid smoke' wafted through my brain, but in reality, it was liquid cremation. Realizing this was a really bad idea, I grabbed a spatula and began to chisel the beef parts off the skillet.
Not to be completely outdone, I tossed the pieces onto a cutting board. From there I cut all the burnt bottoms off each chunk, put them in a crock pot, covered them with broth and hoped for the best.
We had pork steak for supper that evening. I later made beef spread with the lovely managers' special, delightfully priced and extremely dry chunks of beef. But, like I mentioned earlier, no one can make it quite like Mother and the Voice wanted no part of it.
Tuesday, February 5, 2019
From The Desk of the Dog
Mom and I have sure had some interesting days lately. She said she already told the story about our walk the other day, but my version of it is pretty good too.
First, Mom just needs to learn to say "No". She does not seem to have a problem saying it to me, so when she is asked to do something she really does not want to do, she should just say "No". I don't know what made her want to walk another dog. Personally, it's rather insulting. She gets it in her head that I might need more doggy company, since I just hang out with her and Dad. That is a ridiculous assumption on her part, I'm perfectly happy with my favorite peeps.
We went to the other dog's home to get her. Alright, Vanna is a good looking dog, just not my type. Too leggy for my taste. Anyway, we had not gone too far when Vanna made my Mom fly like a bird. Then Mom just laid on the ground, on her back, looking skyward. I must admit, for a minute I was not sure what to do first, try to get Vanna to stop pulling Mom's arm out of its socket, or try to help Mom get up. Since the last option looked way out of my expertise, I did the best thing I knew to do. I barked and barked and barked. It paid off too, a nice man came and helped Mom get off the ground. One thing is for sure, no more walks with "Legs", which suits me just fine.
Mom and I walk every morning. It's fun other than the fact that Mom goes lots further than I want to. I try everyday to make the right turn to head for home and she drags me the other direction. She says it's good for me. I don't know about that because I have to take a 3 hour nap when we return. Mom says I sleep more than a cat. I say hey, go walk a cat a mile and a half and see how long it sleeps!
Mom made some tasty cheesy snacks the other day. They were not for me, but she made the mistake of giving me one. They are the best. She keeps them in a plastic bag with a zipper on the top and then puts that bag into the refrigerator. She does the same thing when she cooks up a bunch of bacon, keeps it in one of those bags in the frig. Bacon, proof there is a dog God. I do love bacon. Mom gives a lame excuse that I really should not eat too many cheesy bites or bacon and sometimes she tries to sneak them for herself. It's too funny to listen to her go into the kitchen, all in stealth mode, open the frig door and remove a plastic bag. Then, she tries to open it as quietly as possible. LOL! I can hear that zipper slide from clear under the bed in the back bedroom! Good grief, I can hear the dog next door pass gas......Mom just doesn't get it.
The last couple of days, on our walks, I have seen the Big Uglies. Mom says they are buzzards but they be Big Uglies to me! They sit on top of the building across the street. Bunches of them! Mom says they are just drying the morning dew from their feathers but they look like they are getting ready to dive bomb me. I bark at them too. One morning while I was barking at them, two Big Uglies waddled up from the other side of the roof to check me out. Mom said they were just checking to see if I was still breathing. I'm not sure what that meant.
Well, the little pads on my feet are getting worn out and I be tired again. Runtly, the ever so entertaining Jack Russell Terrier, is signing off. Nap time!
First, Mom just needs to learn to say "No". She does not seem to have a problem saying it to me, so when she is asked to do something she really does not want to do, she should just say "No". I don't know what made her want to walk another dog. Personally, it's rather insulting. She gets it in her head that I might need more doggy company, since I just hang out with her and Dad. That is a ridiculous assumption on her part, I'm perfectly happy with my favorite peeps.
We went to the other dog's home to get her. Alright, Vanna is a good looking dog, just not my type. Too leggy for my taste. Anyway, we had not gone too far when Vanna made my Mom fly like a bird. Then Mom just laid on the ground, on her back, looking skyward. I must admit, for a minute I was not sure what to do first, try to get Vanna to stop pulling Mom's arm out of its socket, or try to help Mom get up. Since the last option looked way out of my expertise, I did the best thing I knew to do. I barked and barked and barked. It paid off too, a nice man came and helped Mom get off the ground. One thing is for sure, no more walks with "Legs", which suits me just fine.
Mom and I walk every morning. It's fun other than the fact that Mom goes lots further than I want to. I try everyday to make the right turn to head for home and she drags me the other direction. She says it's good for me. I don't know about that because I have to take a 3 hour nap when we return. Mom says I sleep more than a cat. I say hey, go walk a cat a mile and a half and see how long it sleeps!
Mom made some tasty cheesy snacks the other day. They were not for me, but she made the mistake of giving me one. They are the best. She keeps them in a plastic bag with a zipper on the top and then puts that bag into the refrigerator. She does the same thing when she cooks up a bunch of bacon, keeps it in one of those bags in the frig. Bacon, proof there is a dog God. I do love bacon. Mom gives a lame excuse that I really should not eat too many cheesy bites or bacon and sometimes she tries to sneak them for herself. It's too funny to listen to her go into the kitchen, all in stealth mode, open the frig door and remove a plastic bag. Then, she tries to open it as quietly as possible. LOL! I can hear that zipper slide from clear under the bed in the back bedroom! Good grief, I can hear the dog next door pass gas......Mom just doesn't get it.
The last couple of days, on our walks, I have seen the Big Uglies. Mom says they are buzzards but they be Big Uglies to me! They sit on top of the building across the street. Bunches of them! Mom says they are just drying the morning dew from their feathers but they look like they are getting ready to dive bomb me. I bark at them too. One morning while I was barking at them, two Big Uglies waddled up from the other side of the roof to check me out. Mom said they were just checking to see if I was still breathing. I'm not sure what that meant.
Well, the little pads on my feet are getting worn out and I be tired again. Runtly, the ever so entertaining Jack Russell Terrier, is signing off. Nap time!
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