It’s Just Me and My Stop Sign…

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Imagine me standing around at 4am at the reflective stop sign down at the end of the very dark street near my warm, inviting, and wonderful home.  It was freezing cold, we had walked two miles, and I wanted to get out of this bitterly cold, harsh, and brutal weather.  Maggie is enthralled at whatever scent a dog has left for posterities sake on the pole of that stop sign (Fido was here most likely).  I bet we stood there for at least a good five minutes as Maggie sniffed to her heart’s content. It seemed like we stood there for an hour, though. I kept rubbing my hands together and stomping my feet to keep them warm. Then I tugged on Maggie’s leash with my brightly lit and warm home as the prize ahead.

Incoming Messages…

I spent some time this morning getting all three of my email accounts working again.  Twitter was sending me messages that they were going to suspend my account because my email wasn’t working. You wouldn’t believe how much spam was in those dormant accounts.  One account, my Gmail account, had over 2600 spam emails in it.  It was a mass deletion moment and a mess to clean up as well after all three had been neglected for over a year.

I also ordered Maggie two new medium sized Auburn football dog sweaters late last night.  How well that goes over with Maggie we will have to find out. She may balk when I try them on her. Ah, the women in my life. They can make life so interesting. My father is going to be overjoyed that they are Auburn football related.  He will be very tuned into Maggie and this dog sweater thing going on. 

A Little Birdie Says…

Dad let the cat out of the bag when he told me Helen was cooking her meatloaf today. She is also cooking her delicious creamed potatoes and English peas.  I hope my father gets Helen to make her biscuits and not her cornbread. The only addition was to get Helen to fix a big plate of pear salad. I love those things.

“Mom?” I just called, waking my mother up from a deep slumber. “Get Helen to put two extra helpings of meatloaf on my plate.”

I started to wring my hands and cackle like a mad scientist.