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Archive for the ‘Blog Story (BS)’ Category

Oops, We Did It Again

This has been an eventful week in my household. Last weekend, Stephen (human), Dewey, Mia (Italian Greyhounds), and I drove 130 miles to meet Max, a 3-year old Italian Greyhound.

Max – on the rescue website

Dewey is 14 and Mia, 13 (both from the same rescue organization as Max). We had been thinking of adding a young dog to our pack family who had the potential of becoming a therapy dog and we found that in Max. He came home with us. On the drive home, Max’s foster mom sent me this picture.

From Max’s foster mom

As excited as we were to adopt Max, it was also stressful. We weren’t sure how Max would fit in and whether the other dogs would accept him.

Max and Stephen on our first night home

Mia liked Max right away but Dewey pretended that Max wasn’t there.

Two buds

On our first full day together, Max wanted to be on my lap and I found I couldn’t get anything done so I improvised, creating a situation where Max could be with me but where I didn’t have to hold him with my arms.

Max is in the bag. I’m glad he only weighs 11 pounds.

Day 5 Max was still clinging to me…

Sweet little Max

and Dewey finally acknowledged his existence. I think everything is going to turn out fine!

At the end of Max’s 6th day

May the farce be with you!

Your IFF,




Saving Daylight Time – A Poem

I looked outside my window

And saw to my delight

The strangest glow adorn the sky.

I’ve heard it’s called sunlight.

The yellow ball is rarely seen

In my neck of the woods

It’s mostly gray and often rains

Throughout my neighborhoods.

That’s why I got excited

When I heard the day was here

To switch to daylight savings time

Which means that spring is near.

As clocks advance upon first glance

Sun dissipates the gloom.

The longer days and daylight saves

Will brighten up my room.

Spring is but a leap away

From dreary skies and dismal days,

Flowers’ bouquet, their grand display

Will shake me from this cloudy haze.

Perhaps if time did not change

Then winter might extend its range.

So change the time, let’s summon spring

And all the joy that it will bring.


Another sign of spring


Shopping with Dick and Jane

Last weekend I felt like I was in a Saturday Night Live skit. I was grocery shopping at a popular chain store – let’s call it Trader Jim’s. That’s not the real name because it’s important to protect the actual store’s identity.

The week before I had purchased a delicious cauliflower meal and wanted to buy it again. After failed attempts to find it, I asked a clerk who was stocking shelves. Without looking up, “Dick” pointed to the aisle behind where he was working. When Dick’s dismal directions led me nowhere, I let him know I still couldn’t find the cauliflower. This time, he grunted and pointed in the opposite direction. Again, the food was nowhere to be found.

Wandering aimlessly, I saw another clerk, “Jane”, who was actually helping someone. She even gave eye contact! When I presented my request, she tilted her head in a thoughtful manner and repeated the name back to me in a questioning form. “Szechwan cauliflower?” Having no idea where the product might be, she took me to the manager who said they sold no such item and suggested that I might have purchased it elsewhere. Recognizing an obvious breakdown in communication, I described the product. Once we all understood that the szechwan cauliflower was actually kung pao, Jane immediately took me to the correct location… which was next to Dick.

Thinking about Dick, he directed me to a product the store doesn’t carry, twice, without ever speaking or looking up. I thought about pointing him out to Jane but was afraid she either wouldn’t see him because he wasn’t really there or would tell me he wasn’t one of their employees. If Dick is working next week and still acting like a dick, I may risk everything and point him out to Jane.

By the way, Trader Jim’s szechwan cauliflower was delicious.

May the farce be with you!

Your IFF,


So happy I found my cauliflower

So happy I found my cauliflower

Stephen’s Comedy Routine

Stephen started laughing one morning and told me he’d come up with a stand-up comic routine. By the time he was finished, I was laughing, too. Here it is.

When I was at church on Sunday, the minister opened the floor to anyone who wanted to testify. A stranger walked to the front of the sanctuary. He was disheveled, bruised up and looked like he needed a good night’s rest along with a hot meal. Our church never turns anyone away, so we all sat there waiting to see what was on his mind.

He said “Backsliding is good. Without backsliding, there wouldn’t be testifying. Nobody comes to church for the unearthly word of God, they want to hear something real. And they don’t want to hear meaningless drivel like ‘I ate an extra donut or I had bad thoughts’. They want something they can gossip about when they leave church like ‘I stole a car and used it to rob three banks, killing two guards. During my getaway, I missed the bridge and went into the river. I wandered for three days in the woods and fell asleep in the basement of this building’. Now that’s why people come to church! Can I hear an amen?”

May the farce be with you!

And also with you.

Your IFF,




Why I Don’t Cook

This past week I decided to make my own lunch on the big fire box in the kitchen (some call it a stove) – using individual ingredients as opposed to a prepackaged dinner heated in the microwave. I’m not a cook, never have been and rarely use any of the strange appliances in the kitchen because I don’t want to destroy anything. Years ago I started a fire on the stove when I tried to boil oil – an experience I hope to never repeat.

In addition to my fear of fires and explosions, I don’t like to cook because recipes are difficult for me to follow. In need of a simple and easy recipe, I chose to make a grilled cheese sandwich. The recipe called for cream cheese, mustard and shredded cheese. Well, and bread – you needed that, too.

In following the instructions, I got stuck. I couldn’t understand what I was supposed to do. Here was the problem (the recipe was for four servings).

In a small bowl, combine cream cheese and mustard; spread about 1 TBSP cream cheese mixture on one side of each piece of bread. Top 4 slices of bread with 3 TBSP cheese each; cover remaining bread slices, cream cheese side down.

I had several problems with these instructions. First, I didn’t know which pieces of bread were the top four. Frankly, I wasn’t sure why that was important but thought it must be since they were specifically listed.  Second, was the 3 TBSP of cheese – shredded or cream mixture? Since the cream cheese was already listed, it stood to reason the second reference was for the shredded variety. Third, it said to cover the remaining bread slices – with what? And how could I tell which were remaining when I didn’t know which were the top 4? Finally, why cream cheese down? Wouldn’t it be hard to cook with the cream cheese directly on the pan? It didn’t make any sense at all.

Of course I figured it out and made the sandwich correctly but the instructions could have been much clearer. This is the perfect example of why I hate to cook.

May the farce be with you!

Your IFF,



Not Kevin

The last time Stephen and I saw a movie, I went into the theater before him to find seats. Upon entering the cinema, I was surprised to find it empty. Waiting for Stephen, I jokingly stood watching for him so he could find me. As soon as the door opened, I started waving both arms, shouting “Stephen – over here. I’m here!” He stood in place, not moving, so I exaggerated my gestures and yelled louder. I thought he was pretending not to see me amidst the massive crowd of one. After a few moments, it looked as though he was going to turn around and leave, perhaps to retrieve forgotten mustard for his hotdog. Finally, he stepped into the light and with a confused (and slightly frightened look), said “I’m not Kevin.” He then promptly took a seat in the last row – as far away from me as he could get.

Once the stranger was seated, I walked up to him laughing and apologized. I admitted that he wasn’t Stephen (aka Kevin) and told him he could sit wherever he wanted. After pointing out that he was doing just that, he said it was no problem. A few more people showed up before Stephen finally came in. When he did, I stood up, faced the back of the theater where Not Kevin was sitting, waved my arms and shouted “He found me!” Everyone looked except Not Kevin who pretended he didn’t see me. When he finally realized I wasn’t going to stop until I was acknowledged, he gave me a quick nod of his head.

I think I scared Not Kevin that day. This crazy stranger trying to capture his attention when we were alone together in an empty theater. My theory was confirmed when I saw he was one of the first to leave at the end of the show. Had I been on my toes, I would have waited for him by the door. That was definitely Not Kevin’s lucky day.

May the farce be with you!

Your IFF,



The Man Cold

Last week, Stephen was home sick for several days. He spent the majority of his time unconscious – asleep in bed – so he was very low maintenance. Fortunately for me, he had the flu and not a cold. In case you don’t know what I’m talking about, the video below illustrates my concerns perfectly.

Warning: This video contains graphic information and is thus intended for mature audiences only. Viewer discretion is advised.

May the farce be with you!

Your IFF,



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