Two-Headed Bird!

Yep, that’s a two-headed bird you see there.  Further down you will find more pictures of the elegant Sandhill Cranes who reside in and near our park.  They serve as wandering yard art, pacing in and out of rows of RVs, casting a curious eye at the occasional plastic pink flamingo, and bleating bird-style when strangers approach too closely.

They know who belongs, and who does not.  Who is naughty, and who is nice.  Dawny and I must qualify as nice because they barely bleat at us any more when we walk near them.

FullSizeRender-1140Dawny has certainly taken a turn, not just for the nicer, but for the magnificent.  Many of our friends have complemented her on this.  Not only does she behave with total respect around the Sandhill Cranes, she is doing great with the other dogs in the park.  Bigger dogs are still a challenge, but it has been manageable, and that is all I ask.

Her charming side is absolutely blossoming.  A few days ago, we joined a group of campers walking the rounds, singing Christmas Carols.  She was delighted to be a member of the troupe.  Had a great big doggy grin plastered across her face.  Totally ignored other doggies–even the bigger ones–as she walked around with this funny little pack of people singing their hearts out (especially fun after Miss Rose thanked us for our song by serving spiked eggnog).

FullSizeRender-1138I do get out some without my faithful sidekick.  Once or twice a week, I bring my needlepoint project to the activities center and join the ladies’ crafting group, also known as the Stitch-n-Bitch Club, according to Miss Rose.  (The men’s group is called the Whittlers and Whiners).  It’s fun.  Stitching in time to laughter, sharing, and caring, with an occasional gripe or gossipy tidbit thrown in to spice up the soup.

Amidst all of this fun, chores have not been neglected.  This week, I washed six months of dirt samples, bug bodies, and road grime that had been plastered on our house/vehicle, collected from Texas to Tennessee, Virginia to Florida.  It took three days, starting with the roof.  Boy, I had to be on top of my game that morning, crawling around the roof with sponge, hose, and soapy suds.

FullSizeRender-1148There’s often a spirited debate on RV forums about which is better:  a motorhome or a vehicle pulling a trailer of some sort.  Well bath-time is certainly a point in favor of the motorhome.  I can wash my vehicle and my house all in one go.  Heck, if I put on my bathing suit and pack along the shampoo, I could kill three birds with one… er… feed three birds with one berry.  That’s an expression my son invented when he was small.  He could not accept the idea that killing birds with stones could signify anything remotely positive.  Gotta give that kid a lot of credit.  And I do.  I do.

Now, back to my bathing efficiency idea …  Wouldn’t that provide some interesting fodder for the Stitch-n-Bitch Club!

Scrambled Eggs!

Aroooooo!  Mom’s letting me loose with the blog post.  She’s feeling a little bit guilty about not posting anything lately.  If you ask me, her guilt would be much better placed over not walking me and napping with me and loving on me enough!  Sheesh, where are her priorities?

Well, for now, they seem to be centered around this place we are parked at for the Summer.  In Texas.  Hot.  Humid.  Texas.  Did I say hot?  Even the ants are on fire here.  Mom says Texas has a panhandle and that when we are on a mid-day walk and the sun is high, my gorgeous black coat could serve as the pan.  Crack a couple of eggs on my back and they’d fry up faster than those hot tempered ants going on the warpath whenever we dare step on one of their stupid little mounds.  Hmmmm…  That might make those hot walks more worthwhile if I had some scrambled eggs afterwards!  I’ll have to speak to her about that.

Awww, never mind me.  Really.  I’ve got nothing to complain about.  I’m not totally self-absorbed.  Yes, I do give her my saddest of sad-eyed looks whenever she runs out the door for “work.”  Yes, I bark at her as she marches up the walk and disappears for hours(!!!) in the big building we are parked next to.  And yes, of course, I wrangle extra cookies out of her for time-and-suffering.

But, truth be told (and that’s a good thing to do with it), it is good to see how happy Mom is when she returns.  I don’t really understand what is going on in that big building, but whatever it is, she comes back from there happy.  Simply happy.

I’ve met some of the people that are in there when we sit in front of the building in the shade of a big roof after a hot walk.  Mom sits in a rocking chair and I settle down on the nice cool cement.  People pass by and visit, some sit with us for awhile.  They pet me real nice.  Mom enjoys talking with them for a spell.  She laughs.  We both smile.  Life is good.  Hot.  But good.

Meanwhile, when Mom is at work, I have been enjoying uninterrupted beauty sleep.  Have you noticed?  I am quite beautiful.  I am managing to maintain my girlish figure on just two or three miles per day!  Ya.  We can work in this heat.  And with this schedule.  And with these people.

So, don’t worry about this old girl.  Or my Mom.  We’re gonna land sunny-side-up.  Because that’s how we roll!

(P.S.  A kind and attentive reader let us know that the photo at the top of the post did not show up.  We have noticed this seems to happen sometimes if a reader comes to the post or the blog via an email notification and sometimes via an outside link.  One simple fix is to go to the right hand column of the blog where you can look at the posts by month.  Simply click on the current month and the most recent post will appear, complete with picture.  Sorry for any inconvenience, but this technical stuff still gets Mom’s goat!  Damn goat.)

You Go, Girl!

I am always talking about trying to tame Dawny’s vigorous propensity to bark unnecessarily and inappropriately.  I take all that back (and that’s a mouthful).  Last night her vocal talents really paid off.

It wasn’t a big deal, really, but to me it felt huge.  We were taking our last walk of the evening and it was pitch dark out.  There were a half a dozen or so other campers near our site.  On our way back, someone came towards us, flashlight whipping around, including in our faces.  He followed us to our little house.

Dawny was all right until that point, whereupon she went into 33-pound-black-doggie-imitating-330-pound-black-bear mode.  Barking fiercely and straining at her leash, she put herself between the man and me.  I kept asking him what he wanted and he rambled on about looking for my husband (good luck, there) to help him roll his awning up.  It was disconcerting that he wasn’t backing down from my dog.  I told him to go ask another camper because we could not help him, and bid him good night.  We went inside quickly once he finally started to walk away.

The man seemed either confused or drunk, maybe both.  I don’t think anyone with their wits fully present would continue to come close to a woman alone, in the dark, with her dog straining at the leash and frothing at the mouth.

Dawny got extra cookies last night.  And extra hugs.  I would have let her sleep in my bed with me all night long (instead of just the last hour or two before rising) but I am allergic to dogs, so that’s pushing things a little too far.  I am eternally grateful for my travel buddy, though, and today I am buying her singing lessons.  Loud singing lessons.  You go, girl!

(Picture for this post is of Dawny flying after a tennis ball in our old back yard.  It’s one of my favorite pictures of her.  And, yes, she caught it!)