Two Barking Dogs

I like to cook. I like to collect cookbooks. I can boil water, mince garlic, chop an onion, make a smooth non-lumpy white sauce, and lumpy mashed potatoes. I can do all of these things on purpose and with purpose. Ok. Great. If that’s the case, then how come I eat as badly as I do. How come I am always making the same dishes over and over again? Cooking has become a chore for me, after all, I am a single working woman with two large dogs who commutes 50 miles round-trip every day. I like to go to yardsales on the weekend, and sometimes I forget to go to the grocery store. And, as my mother would say, “Excuses will get you nowhere, fast!”

With credit to Howard Beale: “I’m mad as hell, and I’m not gonna take it anymore!” Ok. I’m mad at myself for not eating healthy, drinking too much coffee, and for continuing to add cookbooks to my collection that I never even open, or just give a cursory glance to once and a while. What happened to the girl (me) that made 10 pounds of kimchi from scratch? The girl that could whip up a banana bread without even looking at a recipe? The girl that got her cooking badge from the Girl Scouts without any help from mom?

Stay tuned. I am about to embark on a new (fairly regular) challenge–A new recipe taken from my collection of hundreds of cookbooks. No more searching for recipes on the web. I’m digging out that nice wooden cookbook stand, gonna prop that book up, and I’m going to get cooking.

So, here’s how it works: You vote for the recipe you want me to fix (in the poll) AND leave a comment on this blog entry. Voting closes Saturday, August 2nd at 8:00 pm EST. I’ll go shopping Sunday morning for needed supplies, and will post photos and the results on Sunday evening along with the winner of the comment contest (chosen by using Random dot Org.) The prize will be … a choice between a $10 gift card from Barnes & Noble, or a box of books from my own stash. The winner will have the choice! (( Remember: You have to comment in order to get a chance at the prize. AND if you link to my contest or promote it on your blog, I will give you two extra chances in the drawing. AND if you have no interest in the giveaway, you can still vote (anonymously) for your recipe choice! ))

I chose the cook books by reaching blindly for the books on the shelf, and I chose page 50 in each book … just because it is a nice round number.

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Update 7/31/08: Thanks to everyone that has commented and voted! I will post on Sunday evening the results of my cooking challenge along with the winning recipe, some photos, AND the name of the contest winner!

I just HAD to share this with you all. Just too darn funny! Courtesy of “I Has A Hot Dog.”

It’s fun!
It smells good.
It’s exercise.
It gives a lonely dog something to do.
It makes a nice cool hole where the dog can lie.
Tunneling to make an escape under a fence.
The dog hears something down there and is going to dig until he finds it.
Breed instinct.

Cosmo was never been a big digger, just the occasional superficial attempt to make a hole — just because. Clover, on the other hand, was never a big digger until she met my parents’ dog, and now if left alone in the yard for “too long” she will start her attempt to turn the yard into something akin to the surface of the moon. Clover used to dig in order to remove something: a tree, a rose bush, a flower or weed. Now, if given the chance, she will dig just because she can. Note to my mom: Clover was NOT being spiteful, she was just having some fun.

One of our dogs from long ago, Kelly, dug halfway to China once. There is a photo somewhere of the hole about 3′ x 2′ and so deep that the only thing visible was the tip of Kelly’s tail sticking out of the hole. Kelly liked to dig more than any other dog I have ever known. From the same era, Kelly’s sister, Casey liked to dig, but with a purpose! She was after moles or voles or anything that was beneath her feet. I still shudder at the thought of her little (dead) presents.

I do have another theory. Clover and Cosmo are looking for the Nylabone that Casey and Kelly buried out in the backyard about 15 years ago. Its out there, pups. Go find it!

I have noticed a lot of news reports on TV and in the newspaper recently about hypermiling. Jump on the bandwagon, save some gas money, stretch that $ a little further, sign up a whole bunch more hypermilers. Works for me.

My dream commute would be instead of having HOT Lanes (High Occupancy Toll Lanes — coming soon to a highway near you) or HOV Lanes (High Occupancy Vehicle Lanes) would be a HMO Lane (Hypermilers Only Lane) that way we could all stay in one lane, with a respectful distance between each other, plugging away at 55 mph, getting better gas mileage, and we would all be safe from the speeding, cursing, asinine drivers that think trying to blow you off the road is safe and economical. Idiots all of them.

There is a lot of discussion around D.C. and beyond about going back to a national speed limit of 55 mph. Sign me up! Not only will we save save gas, demand for gas will go down, prices will drop, and local and state police will be raking in speeding fines and therefore they’ll have lots of extra cash on-hand to hire more police officers, then crime will go down, and … well you get the idea.

So, I am still trying to hypermile and have made a conscious effort to employ some hypermile tactics each time I get in the truck. I am not keeping track of my mileage like a lot of other folks are doing, only because I am too lazy. I do know this: I am getting two extra trips to or from work (50 miles) out of one tank of gas.

I don’t think I have ever met a dog that didn’t like taking a ride in a car. Even the ones that get car sick still like to jump into the back seat and go cruising. Let’s go! Wanna go for a ride in the car? These phrases have the ability to make my dogs jump around like idiots because they know that it means a trip in the car. (PS – that dog in the picture isn’t mine. I don’t let my two hang out the window. I’d be afraid that they might fall out which is exactly what happened to my friend Rob’s dog Oscar).

Both Clover and Cosmo are good travelers. They enjoy being in the car for short trips, and tolerate the longer trips because of the reward at the end which is usually my parent’s home in Florida. Clover has been across the Irish Sea on a ferry a couple of times, and has been party to many road trips in Ireland, Wales, England and Scotland. She has traveled the route between Florida and Virginia so many times, I’ve lost count.

Cosmo likes riding in the car; however, he is like the child in the backseat asking “Are we there yet?” Coz will put his head on my left shoulder and sigh in my ear a few times every hour during a long trip. For the first few trips south, Coz was crated in the back of the SUV so I could keep him contained and safe. As he became used to car travel, I shoved him into the backseat with Clover where they co-exist fairly well in a tight space.

I installed one of those soft mesh barriers that go from door to door behind the front seats. It is a wonderful thing and it saved my life once, I’m sure of it. On a trip to Florida two years ago, I was getting off of I-95 to fill up the gas tank, and ran over the rumble strips on the right-hand side of the exit ramp. Cosmo, who was sound asleep at the time, woke up and launched himself into the front seat, most likely to save me from whatever had just attacked the car. He got caught in the net — kind of twisted up in it actually. I am positive if that barrier had not been there, Coz would have hurt himself and/or me in his zeal to protect us from the invisible Rumble Strip Monsters.

I dropped off 8 big bags and two bins of linens, books, glassware, tchotchkes, and yardsale leftovers to My Favorite Thrift Store on Saturday morning. I love that store. They have lots of good stuff, they run it like a business with very little “picking over” by the staff, and things are priced to move in order to make their charity money. What more could a person ask for?

So, of course, I had to go inside and shop a little after dropping off my donations. How could I not? The first grouping of piggy banks are all gag gifts for Christmas, the apple bowls aren’t marked on the bottom (the guy at the thrift store said they were Federal Glass — don’t think so). They are glass baking/serving dishes.

The wood “bowl” is actually a new chopping board. The price tag on the back said $59 (!!!) – I paid $2.00. I think the idea is that you can chop herbs and vegetables in the bowl side with a rounded chopper (which I just happened to buy at the thrift store a few months ago), and then flip it over to the flat side and use that as a regular chopping surface. The linen napkins are new (and mine now), the little hand blown glass pitcher is exactly like one I bought a few weeks ago in a different color. Woohoo! Another wonderful Pyrex bowl (Butterfly Gold Cinderella Mixing Bowl) and some peachy coasters.

Click on the small photo once or twice for a larger view.

Ok. Admit it, right here, right now. You have given a dog a teaspoon of peanut butter just to watch them lick their teeth, smack their lips, flap their tongue back and forth trying to get every last bit of peanut butter stuck to the roof of their mouth, all the while laughing at the silly spectacle.

In my house, it works this way: I have two jars of peanut butter. One for me, and one for the dogs. I like Jif smooth peanut butter (on bread with strawberry jam). Clover and Cosmo get Organic Low-Fat Natural Peanut Butter. Mine? $3.49/jar. Theirs? $6.89/jar.

I take a butter knife and scoop some PB out of the jar and put it in Kongs for the two mutts. Clover will grab the Kong and run like hell to hide from Cosmo because he is always very interested in what she has and in taking it away from her. I read somewhere recently about putting the PB in the Kong and then freezing it. Wouldn’t work with Clover and Cosmo because they have PBJO (Peanut Butter Jar Opening) Radar. As soon as they hear the scraping as I turn the cap off of the jar, they are at my side, noses in the air, tails wagging, and in Cosmo’s case, there’s a little bit of dancing about going on, too.

Thank goodness my dogs don’t have peanut allergies because there really is no substitute. If you want a real laugh, put the PB on some white bread … NOT that I’ve ever done THAT.

I have been getting ready all week for the sale by tagging everything that I put aside for the sale. I got up at 5:00 a.m. to go out and put up the yard sale signs. I only took a stapler with me. Note to self: next time, bring zip ties or heavy duty tape so you can put signs up on metal posts. Everything out and set up by 7:00 a.m. and it was already starting to warm up.

Overall, I am very happy with the de-cluttering that I just went through. I made back about $400 on stupid buys (OP’s yard sales), some used and unwanted dishes, clothing, books, etc. And, now that I know how much work this is, I will be better prepared for my next sale in October!

A few observations:

To my first customer of the day, whom I will call “Mr. I Know You Speak English”: I recognized you the minute you showed up. I’ve seen you at lots sales over the last couple of years. Can you explain to my readers about your math skills? No? Let me: 5 books (total marked $7) and the buyer asked “How much” for the “5″ and I said $4. He said ok. Then he proceeded to add about 10 more books to the pile .. and handed me $4. OK. That’s not right. $4 was for the first 5 books. I told him the price for the 15 books ($10). He kept saying, “No. You said $4. I kept saying “No, $4 for the 5 original books, you have more books now, it will cost more.” I’ve seen this guy in action before, and I knew he was capable of doing this haggle for at least another 20 minutes. I picked the books up off the ground and put them back on the shelf. He turned and walked away. Now, if he had shown up at 12:30 when I was ready to tear down, I would have given him those books for free! (P.S. – I know you speak English because I have heard you. Making like you don’t understand doesn’t work with me.)

Update 7/20 (a week later):  I ran into the friendly “Mr. Doesn’t Speak English” yesterday at a yard sale around the corner.  He pulled up to the curb, loaded everything (5 or 6 things) at the curb including a box of books and a couple of potted plants that were marked “free”, and hopped in the car and drove off.  In my book – he could have at least said thank you to the people having the sale.  The man is a TOAD.

To my best return customers Sophie and her brother Max: You are adorable and good shoppers, too. A young girl (10 years old?) on her bicycle showed up mid-morning and slowly walked around looking at everything for sale. She asked about this, and that, and how much, and what was it, and where did I buy it. She picked up a couple of small things and asked me to hold them while she went home for her money. She returned with $1.00. So, we made up a small bag of little items: a small African soapstone toy, a small clock, a pair of Disney chopsticks. She left, and about 10 minutes later came back with another dollar to fill up another bag and with her brother. She took home a huge ceramic dog bowl and a few other items, and a Hawaiian shirt for her dad. She has a bright future as a bargain hunter and yard saler extraordinaire.

To Yasmin: You are a funny lady and thanks for the cherries! Back up to May of this year. I went to a yard sale and bought a couple of really pretty scarves that I thought I would use in the fall. The lady that I bought these from was very nice and a great sales lady. I really didn’t want the scarves that badly, but I forked over $8 and was happy as I walked away. Now, fast forward to Saturday. This very nice lady who looked familiar (and smelled like the scarves) was giving me grief about my signs, and telling me that my items aren’t displayed very well, and here let me help. Yasmin finished unpacking some of the bags that I hadn’t gotten to yet, she rearranged some of the items, and in the process found the bin of fabric and scarves. It was at that exact point that I realized where I knew her from. She reached into the bin and took out “her” scarves! She turned to me and said, “I remember you now, these are my scarves!” I started to laugh, and she put them in her pile of stuff to buy. She actually bought back her own scarves for $1.00 each.

Yasmin proceeded to shop and came up short with her total at the end. She still owed me about $10. She took her treasures to the car and said she would come back and pay me later. I wasn’t worried because I knew where she lived. She showed up about an hour later with $10 and a bag of cherries from the grocery store, and she told me she moved one of my signs out on the highway because it was too low and not everyone could see it. (Look at me still laughing as I write this.)

To Pat: I’m sorry about the GPS getting you lost, and thanks! The nicest lady came by about 11:30 and spent a good hour going through the books and other goodies that were left. It was at that point that I realized, “Holy crap, I am going to have to get rid of these books … soon.” I told her that all books were 25 cents each as she started to go through the piles. As a result, she bought more. (Note to self, tell the buyer the discounted price up front, they buy more.) We chatted, had a bottle of water, she helped me sell a snow shovel to someone in Spanish, she chatted with the guy’s wife in Spanish and gave the lady $5 to buy something for the baby. She kept adding goodies to her pile and didn’t bargain on the prices on anything at that point. Pat spent $30 and made three trips to the car. She helped me clean up and move the leftovers closer to the front yard so it would be easier to clean up later in the day. Man, I would have loved to have had more shoppers like that!

I am knackered. I am sunburned, my back aches, and all of the yard sale leftovers are sitting in my living room waiting for me to either load them into the truck for a trip to the thrift store, or back into the closet. I have absolutely no interest in doing any of that until the Aleve kicks in.

Here are a couple of pictures of all of the STUFF that I had out for sale. All of the stripey bags and boxes got unpacked after I took the photos. Clover finally got tired of barking at everyone from the window, and went to take a nap in her closet. Cosmo sat in the window upstairs and watched everything.

If you click on the small gallery picture below – you can see the photos super-sized if you want.

Oh My Gosh! Who the hell knew I had so much stuff? It dawned on me when I recently went in search of my passport and couldn’t find it. I looked everywhere, and realized something. I have too much crap, George Carlin was right about “stuff”, and if I am ever going to get ready for next year’s move, I must start getting rid of some of this stuff.

So, anyone in the neighborhood want to come help? Big yard sale – my house – Northern Virginia – this Saturday at 7:30 a.m. Just follow the signs!

I will have some photos up on Sunday for anyone that wants to see if my junk looks any different than their junk. Wish me luck. I’m going to need it. Saturday is supposed to be rain-free but hot! Crap. I feel a bad case of sunburn coming my way.

A recent post on Dennis’ Diary of Destruction got me to thinking. Just how many nick names do my dogs have? and just how silly are they?

Clover, also known as:

• Silly Ass
• Big Mouth
• Wiggle Butt
• Bumpy Butt
• Bubble Butt
• She Who Must Be Obeyed
• She Who Poops A Lot
• Sweetie
• Sweetie Pie
• My Girl
• CloverRover
• GirlyGirl
• SHUTUP
• CloClo

Cosmo, also known as:

• BoyBoy
• Bubba
• Fella
• STINKY
• STINKY BOY
• My Boy
• Coz
• Cozzy
• Cozzy-Moto
• Goofy
• Cozzy-Boo
• Mr. Stinky
• Stinky BoyBoy

In reality, they both come when called by their “real” name. If I have a treat in my hand, they will come when called by any name. And seeing as how each of these stupid names are preceded by “Hey”, they both probably think that THAT is their real name.

Got your attention, didn’t I? Ok. Maybe they don’t exactly “like” barfing, but they sure know how to do it well.

When Clover was a puppy, she had a very “iffy” constitution. She had the barfing thing down like it was a sport. She’s not as queasy these days, but I must remember “no matter how much she begs, she cannot have table scraps,” as scraps seem to be one of the things that set her delicate stomach off.

Cosmo hardly ever barfs. But, when he does, its usually because he is very very excited, or very very sick. At my parent’s 56th anniversary party this past April, the three dogs (my two and parent’s one) were kept to the yard and the patio so they woudln’t knock all of the old folks over. Cosmo is infatuated with my Aunt Pat, and whenever she is nearby, Coz wants to sit next to her with his head in her lap.

I decided to let Cosmo in the house for a little socialization and so he could greet Aunt Pat. He was so excited to be allowed into the inner sanctum, that he ran into the family room, stopped, looked around at everyone and performed his own version of Linda Blair in the Excorcist. Right there in front of everyone. Thanks Coz.

I had the flu a few years ago and spent a bit of time worshiping the porcelain throne. I sat on the floor, propped up by Clover on one side, and Cosmo on the other. What good dogs. Now, if I could only get them to worship the throne when they’re sick.

Note to self: Call and make appointment with Stanley Steamer.

Fetch is a game usually played with a dog. An object, such as a stick or ball, is thrown a moderate distance away from the animal, and it is the animal’s objective to grab and retrieve it. Many times, the owner of the animal will say “Fetch” to the animal before or after throwing the object.

Well. Sure. That’s the way its supposed to be. The person throws something and the dog runs after it and brings it back to the person. If you’re lucky, the dog will even drop it at your feet. Some dogs like to do this over and over and over again. Just ask my sister. She had a English Springer Spaniel by the name of Riley once. Riley was a little “off” in his mental capacity, but he did like to play fetch. On one occasion, my sister threw the ball for the dog 198 times in one session. If her pitching arm didn’t conk out on her, who knows how long that dog would have run back and forth for that treasured yellow tennis ball.

Clover really likes to do a water retrieve. Throw a stick or ball or bumper into a body of water, and she’s on it. This dog has chased down an errant frisbee in the Irish Sea and in Loch Lomond in Scotland. (She’s well-traveled.) But on land? It all depends on how she’s feeling at the moment. She prefers to chase a soccer ball and if she can get a hold of it, she’ll fetch that and bring it back. She had a favorite ball for fetch that a another dog at the dog park decided he liked a lot and took it home with him. She hasn’t been the same since.

Cosmo’s training has been spotty. My bad. He’s such a well-behaved dog, having absorbed a lot of his good behavior through osmosis from being around Clover. (Only the good things, thankfully.) He will chase pretty much anything you throw mostly because he likes to run, not that he likes to fetch and retrieve. The biggest problem with Coz is that he won’t bring the thrown item back!

Last year, we spent a week at a super place in North Carolina with a cabin on a lake. Cosmo would only go so far with the fetch/retrieve in the water. Mostly, he would wait for Clover to swim out, retrieve the ball/bumper/stick and when she got back to the edge of the pond, where Cosmo lay in wait for her, he would pounce on her, knock her under the water, wait for the item to pop to the surface. At that point he would grab the item, jump out of the pond, and run towards me as if he was going to return it to me, but most often he ran off into the field hoping someone would chase him.

Little thief.

Goodbye :: Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.
Cage :: Zoo
Buddy :: My Dogs
Magic words ::Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
Library :: Book Sales
Fall in love :: Can’t remember
Tense :: Aches and Pains
Work! :: Love it!
Empty :: Coffee Cup
Heat wave :: Hate it

Per Wikipedia:

Tug of war, tug o’ war, or tug war, also known as rope pulling, is a sport that directly puts two teams against each other in a test of strength.

The term may be used as a simile to describe a demonstration of brute strength by two opposing groups, such as a rivalry between two departments of a company. Often, there is a third party who is considered the “rope” in the tug o’ war.

So, the “dog experts” say, tug of war is good. Its a fun way to play and interact with your dog. And, besides, almost all dogs like to play tug. (Except Clover, that is.)

The “other dog experts” say playing tug of war with your dog is bad because it causes the dog to get agitated and can cause them to play too rough, or cause aggression or dominance issues.

There are so many experts on so many topics. What the hell did we do before Google?

Around my house, this is how it works:

Cosmo will find a dish towel on the floor or in the laundry pile, or he will dig through the toy box and find the tug of war toy/rope. He will dance around with the toy in his mouth, flip it in the air, jump up and catch it, and run around the living room for a few minutes saying, “Woohoo, look what I have!” He will then approach Clover and try to stuff the toy in her mouth. She will invariably get up and move away, and perhaps go hide out in the closet. On the very rare occasion, she will grab hold of whatever he wants to tug with and they will play tug for a while. When Clover is done with all of Cosmo’s foolishness, he will abandon her, and zero in on me.

This is where tug becomes keep away, and that is a whole ‘nother story!

I’ve always thought that anything taken to the extreme is probably not good. Apparently the police think this way too. In my opinion, common sense is probably the first step in saving gas and boosting gas mileage.

Courtesy of the CBS Morning Show: