Diane Stringam Tolley's Blog: On the Border, page 103

Perfect Pet

Look at that cute, fuzzy face!For over thirty years, we raised Old English Sheepdogs.
To us, they are amazing.Friendly. Energetic. Smart. Teachable. Protective. Gentle. Loyal.And really, really fuzzy cute!Our last breeding pair passed away several years ago.For several years, the house that used to be overrun with large, hairy, four-legged beauties, was home to one.Aldo.The last puppy from our last litter.Who, when this story starts, had just turned the grand old age of thirteen.
First, a little background...When Aldo was just starting to eat solids, we noticed that he wasn't developing like his brothers and sisters. Something was definitely wrong. Concerned, we took him to the vet, who promptly announced that he had Parvovirus and should be put down – along with the rest of the puppies in the litter.But I’m a veterinarian’s daughter. And his single symptom - diarrhea - just didn’t convince me that such was the case.I put him in the bathroom in the care of my fifteen-year-old daughter.For two days, she made sure the tiny puppy ate and drank – especially drank.And then we discovered that he did just fine if he was fed adult dog food. That the puppy formula was simply too rich for those sensitive puppy innards.Huh.We changed his diet. He began to thrive.But the time spent together in that small room created a bond that we simply didn’t have the heart to try to break.So Aldo stayed.He was an amazing companion to all of us. And boasted a higher vocabulary than many people.My daughter had him very, very well-trained.We didn’t realize how well-trained until that day.
On to the story...My daughter’s theatre job necessitated some late nights. That day was one of them as, following her production, she and her husband and co-workers struck the set.It was very late indeed before they opened the front door of home.Aldo, who usually waited quietly on the front hall carpet until his mistress got home, was nowhere to be seen.Odd.There was evidence that he had been there. A few crumbs from a Dentabone were visible.My daughter called him.I should mention here that, at the time, Aldo was in perfect health. He just couldn’t hear any more.Unsruprisingly, there was no answering scramble of dog feet.She went to the back door – which had been left open into the sunroom.There she noticed something else. The screen door of the sunroom was slightly open.When Husby installed that door, he put brightly-coloured strips of hard plastic at intervals across the screen so Aldo wouldn’t run into it and harm himself – or anything else.Ironically, Aldo figured out how to open the door – using those handy strips of plastic. And his all-purpose doggie nose.There is only one drawback. He hasn’t yet figured out how to close the door afterward.She went into the yard, still calling, and stopped at his doggie run. Aldo’s run is cleaned after each use, but she found evidence that someone had walked him.She went back into the house and finally to her room and Aldo’s bed.There he was, in blissful doggie-dreamland.He noticed her, happily welcomed her, then flopped down and went immediately back to what he had been doing.Snoring.Obviously not needing a quick trip out back because someone’s mistress was doing who knows what instead of tending to him.It took a moment, but she finally figured out what had happened.When his mistress didn’t appear at the usual time, he got himself a treat. Walked himself. And put himself to bed.The perfect dog.I wish we'd saved his DNA . . .  Yep. Tired of waiting.

A Teacher

Truly home now from my holiday and back in the classroom with my beloved students.Have I mentioned I teach the greatest group of teenagers in the entire universe?Well, I do.And I missed them.I was sitting, thinking after they all filed out of the classroom yesterday. Would I be a teacher who made a difference in their lives?We all had at least one of 'those' teachers.The ones who made such an impact that they changed your life.Let me share mine with you...
The greatest teacher who ever lived worked in Milk River, Alberta.
In Junior High School.
I was terrified of her.
Then I  loved her.

Mrs. Wollersheim TAUGHT Social and Math.
Notice the capitals for emphasis?
I meant to put them there.
My first experience with Mrs. W was in grade seven.
I'll never forget it.
I was one of the former grade six kings and queens of Milk River Elementary, now demoted to the lowest of the low.
Grade seven in the Junior/Senior high school.
I was a worm.
Already intimidated by my surroundings, I and my classmates were seated in our desks in Mrs. W's room, awaiting the next installment in terror that Junior High was turning out to be.
We didn't wait long.
From down the hall, outside the wide-open classroom door, we heard a sound. A steady 'Creak. Creak'.
I should mention, here, that our school was old. Methuselah old. And creaky. In fact, it would have made an excellent set for a horror movie, "The Killer Who Terrorized the Grade Sevens in the Old, Creaky School."
Okay. Movie-writing was never meant to be my forte. (Oooo. Italian.)
Moving on . . .
Each member of the class stiffened into attention, all eyes were trained on the doorway.
A trickle of sweat traced a path down the temple of the kid in front of me.
Okay, I'm exaggerating. But you have to admit that, for a moment, I had you.
Okay, you don't have to admit it.
Sigh.
A hollow voice rang down the hall.
"Ahem. Now class . . ."
I should point out that Mrs. W never, ever waited until she was visible to begin teaching.
She didn't have to.
" . . . and that's what we are going to do today."
She appeared in the doorway. A short, heavy-set woman in a print dress, with her hair pinned back into a bun. Sharp eyes covered by thick spectacles. And flat, black walking shoes, capable of carrying the wearer through an entire day of teaching.
The anticipation was over.
We were, at last face to face.
So to speak.
The class shivered en masse. (I'm on fire today! A French term. I think it means altogether.)
She looked us over.
Complete silence.
We sat, frozen in our desks.
Does a teacher's visual acuity depend upon movement?
She moved forward. "The first thing you will have to learn, class, is that when I walk into the room, your books and notebooks will be opened to the correct page and you will be ready to learn."
Frantic zipping of binders (zippers were the newest, coolest thing on binders) and shuffling of paper.
Finally, silence once more.
Mrs. W had reached the front of the room and was standing to one side of the desk, watching us.
We felt like proverbial mice in the gaze of the proverbial hawk.
Our reaction was anything but proverbial.
I'm not sure, but I think a couple of students wet themselves.
She nodded and began to teach.
And, despite our misgivings, we began to learn.
And the first thing we learned was that, though she appeared to be a tyrant in the classroom, she was anything but.
Oh, she demanded respect.
And got it.
Even the class clowns showed only exemplary (real word) behavior when seated under her watchful eyes.
But she would do almost anything to have us succeed.
Every one of us.
At anything we tried.
If we were having difficulty with a concept, even if it was a subject taught by another teacher, she would bundle us off to her home. Feed us with the rest of her family.
And teach.
If any of us were involved in extra-curricular activities, she was on the front row for concerts and athletics.
My brother had decided to serve a mission for our Church and though she was of a different denomination, she was there in the chapel, both for his farewell talk and for his homecoming.
And she did this for approximately 100 students.
Every year.
For 35 + years.
The things she taught us could never be found within the covers of a school textbook.
Patience.
"You'll get it. Let's try again."
Respect and obedience.
"Mr. Russell. Would you mind putting that away and joining us?"
Humor.
"How many of you are there? Well, I'm sure you'll all fit in the front room. If not, we'll jam some into the kitchen. Come in, come in. Let's have some hot chocolate. Don't worry about your boots. Jake'll clean up later. Okay, now what Christmas carols are you going to sing for me?"
Any Social or mathematics I learned, I got from her.
Any sense of discipline?
Ditto.
Mrs. Wollersheim is gone now.
She spent her last few years in a nursing home in Milk River, her brilliant mind alive, her physical self hampered by disease and old age.
But she left a legacy.
Her love for us.

When Sailing

Our Steed Ditto...When cruising aboard a tall ship, guests are treated to every luxury.
Many gravitate to the wine list and the limitless selections at the bar.
We non-drinkers gravitate to the food.
The plentiful, Michelin-three-star-chef-rated, out of this world food.
Food so tempting and divine that one really can't refuse.
Thus my saying that they should just weigh us guests checking in and again checking out and charge by the pound.
Mmmm...
Also, for one evening during a sailing, we--guests and crew--have a talent show.
These two topics go together.
For many of our sailings, Husby and I have chosen to participate in the talent show. Two of a handful of guests that do.
Usually, we recite. He, something Canadian.
Me, something cautionary.
It's totally fun.
This year, I decided to change things up a bit and taught the other guests the Royal Clipper Food Song.
Okay, yes, I made it up.
And it goes like this...

Chorus:
Foo-oo-oo-oo-ood. Delicious!
Foo-oo-oo-oo-ood. Delicious!

Verse One:
A guest likes things that can be chewed,
So boiled or baked or fried or stewed,
Just simply brings us lots of food
And happy guests we'll be!

Chorus:
Foo-oo-oo-oo-ood. Delicious!
Foo-oo-oo-oo-ood. Delicious!

Verse Two:
We like your omelets and cakes,
Your sausage cured, and puddings baked,
Your Entrees, salads, soups and 'plates',
Your gouda, swiss and brie.

Chorus:
Foo-oo-oo-oo-ood. Delicious!
Foo-oo-oo-oo-ood. Delicious!

Verse Three:
So bring us lots of food, my friends,
I promise you will not offend,
We'll pray this trip will never end.
AND NO WEIGH SCALES WE'LL SEE!

Chorus:
Foo-oo-oo-oo-ood. Delicious!
Foo-oo-oo-oo-ood. Delicious!

The audience did the chorus and I did the verses.
Let's just say it went down well.
Snicker...


Formal.
Served by wonderful waiter, Arnold...
Less formal.
Served with limited self-control.Foo-oo-oo-oo-ood. Delicious!

Continued...

On the sea.
First up, Bonifacio, Corsica.
Bonifacio. Awesome, right? Who's with me!
Still not up to much, so I only got this far. Then back to the ship.
Then on to Mahon, Menorca and our first castle. Have I mentioned I love castles?I did better this time. Managed to scramble around the castle a bit. Ugh. Upping. Just a couple of pictures to whet your appetite for...Ibiza, Balearic IslandsAnd no, I had no idea it existed until I went there.I'm woefully ignorant of all things geographical.

A couple of guards at the gates.
Have I mentioned I love photographing hallways?
And stairs...
And cannons?
And now on to Motril, Spain. From there, a bus to Granada and the World Heritage site: The Alhambra! (Long number one on Husby's to-see list!) An amazing palace and gardens that once housed the Sultan and his household. Became the home to Granada's homeless, now restored to much of its former beauty. Remember when I mentioned gardens?
Ditto
View of the city wall from the Sultana's rooms.
One of the amazing courtyards.
And another.And on to Morocco!First stop, Safi. From there, we took a bus to Marrakech. We sang 'Marrakech Express' along the way. Most of the passengers didn't get it...

 Amazing countryside in Morocco. Hot and dusty. Plenty of donkey wagons. And each family had their own little compound with high, cement walls, usually a little mud-brick home with a satellite dish on the roof. Unlike any place I've ever seen!

Another palace.
With the *ahem* Sultan and Sultana. (Hey, I can dream!)
Marrakech market!
More market. And lots of bargaining.
They now call Husby the Canadian Bandito...
They know gates in Marrakech!Then bus ride back to the ship and on to Casablanca. Morocco.To prepare for our visit, the ship showed Casablanca, the movie.Sadly, Casablanca was a bit of a disappointment.Apart from the absolutely beautiful mosque, the third-largest in the world, the city itself was rather run-down and dirty. Many, many beggars.A city of wildly varying contrasts. The utterly poor and destitute compared to the most stunningly beautiful building I've ever seen.And the Rick's Cafe they took us to?Not the real one. Just FYI... Wait for it...
Seriously one of the most beautiful buildings I've ever seen!
Right?
...
......
From there, on to Tangier, Morocco.
A beautiful city. Very progressive and on the move. Restorations in every quarter we saw.
Beautiful!
My next home.
Ali Babba at the gate.
One of the local streets.
And markets.I loved Tangier. A little sad our visit was so short!From there it was back to Spain and Cadiz, where we went to a sherry-making plantation.And to see the Andalusian horses train.
These guys are serious about their sherry.
25,000 barrels in this storage room alone!
Sadly, the only horse I managed to photograph at the Andalusian training school.
Photos of the real thing were prohibited. Sigh.
P.S. They were AWESOME!And then it was back to the ship and on to our final port, Lisbon, Portugal.We said a sad good-bye to our shipboard acquaintances and headed into Lisbon for the final three days of our holiday. Doing what we do best.
Hallway. Why do I love them so much?
Castle hallway. Ditto.
Monastery. Catch your breath beautiful!
Lisbon city street.
And an elevator built around the same time as the Eiffel Tower in Paris.
Amazing. 
View from the top of said elevator.
Another view...
Typical city street
Typical delicious food.
Out in the country. (Sintra. The most amazing place!)
  And home.
We had the very best of times. Great company. Great food. And tons of site-seeing.We packed a lot into a few weeks, but crossed many, many items off the bucket list.My only problem now is... where to next?!

What I did on my Fall Vacation...

I mentioned Venice already, so I won't linger there. Except to say that it was FABULOUS!!!
I mean, canals? Water buses? Fine Venetian dining? Gondolas? And Venetians to sing to one???! What can I say but "Ahhhh."
The four of us.
Traveling companions extraordinaire. ME. In a gondola!

GONDOLA!
Again. Mmmm.
When I serve cheese, it doesn't look anything like this!
From there, Florence:
Three days of art, fantastic views. Delicious food.
And shopping for leather. (You've found my weakness. Leather. I think it stems from my ranching days.)
Really famous door.
Apparently, there was a really famous contest.
And this was the really famous winner.
I'm fuzzy on the facts, but it was at the top of my historian Husby's 'to see' list of all time!
Admit it. Poseidon has a really cute butt.
Actually, most of Florence was statued (real word) with really cute butts...
Ponte Vecchio.
A somewhat (okay really) famous bridge over the river Arno.
It was so fun. Shops lining both sides.
We ate in one of the restaurants.
I think right in the middle where the arches are...
You put a coin in and let it fall, then rub his cute little snout and you're guaranteed to return.
And hey! Who doesn't want to rub a boar's snout?
See? What did I tell you?
The For Real David. From the other side. Okay, this is the normal view of the For Real David.
It just always makes me feel cold... A quick side trip out to Tuscany to eat a winery
And drop by this little place... A genuine Florentine steak.
And man, was it good!
Those Florentines. They know steak.
And then on to Rome.Which, sadly, I missed. I got real close and personal with my bed.And the bathroom.Sigh.Not sure, but it may have been that Florentine steak...I did see the Trevi Fountain...
And this.
Which I kind of put on my 'Yikes' list. My wonderful traveling companions took me through the Vatican Museum in a wheelchair, but I really didn't take in much.
A picture of Mary and the baby Jesus.
And I vaguely remember the Sistine Chapel.
I think.

Then on to the next adventure...
The Sail Away.
It was our ninth trip on board a clipper ship.
Absolutely our favourite mode of travel.
Our steed. The Royal Clipper.The view from our window.

And yes, I spent most of my trip in the nets at the bow of the ship.
It's just like flying...
And you meet really interesting people.
Fabulous sunrises.
(Hmmm...If God had wanted us to actually see the sunrises, He would have scheduled them later in the day. Am I right?)
And sunsets. Tomorrow:
Everything else.
Or:
What I saw from the ship.
On the rest of my trip.
Ha!

Growing My Toddlers

First of all, I must apologize for my absenteeism of the past three weeks. We were on holiday (more about that tomorrow) and the internet onboard the ship and in Morocco was hard to come by. Also, I'm being especially lazy today because we just got back last night and I still have 'holiday brain'. So Jenny's genius theme for today, 'Busy Days', is getting the old poem treatment. It was only a year ago that I posted this. I do hope you still find it as enjoyable as the memory of it is for me! :) It seemed a good idea, I thought                Some hours in the yard.The winter months had been so long                And I felt the need of working hard.
So armed with gloves and rakes and things,                I started out the door.Trailed by two toddlers                Who loved to help with Gramma’s chores.
Things went well for just a spell,                As Gramma started in,The girls spun circles in the yard                Till Linney fell and bumped her chin.
A kiss and cuddle, tears were gone                It really wasn’t hard.I set her down and looked to see                That Hazel’d wandered from the yard.
She’d not gone far, I scooped her up                And carried her back home.Then penned them both behind the gate,                And told them sternly ‘not to roam’.
While toddlers watched, I grabbed my rake,                But got no further then,‘Cause Hazel shrieked; I had to run                She’d fallen in the mud . . . again.
I fished her out and cleaned her off,                A kiss, a tale to tell,Then turned just as another shriek,                Said Lin was in the mud as well.
I’m sure by now you’ve realized                I didn’t manage much.With Lin caught in the tramp’line springs                And Hazel eating chalk and such.
Four bathroom breaks, ‘Pee, potty now!’                And squabbles over things,And pouring sand in someone’s hair,                And all the angst that action brings.
Searching the yard from stem to sternFor Linney’s missing shoe,Then doing the whole thing o'er again                Cause Hazel’s hat was ‘somewhere’, too.
With helping up and helping down                And watching in between.It’s no wonder that my work just sat,                With little progress to be seen.
Last night when all were sound asleep                And peace had been restored,I looked out the window there,                And sang my praises to the Lord.
For though my tools were strewn aboutWith no sign of success,My time was quite well spent, because                I'm growing Toddlers in the mess.
Cause Mondays do get knocked a lot,With poetry, we all besought,To try to make the week beginWith pleasant thoughts,Perhaps a grin?To all of us, together, weHave crafted poems for you to see.And now that you’ve read what we’ve brought,Did we help?Or did we not…
Jenny
Mother Owl
Mimi
P.S. Totally forgot to add the part
Where I talk about next topic,
Just know that it is 'Glasses' and
Send me back into the tropics...

When the Doge Does As Doges do..

Having a little too much fun.
And we’re just getting started!
First, Venice, Number one on my Bucket List!
From floating in the Grande Canal to exploring St. Mark’s Cathedral and the Doge’s Palace. Watching the glass blowers on Murano and sampling everything ‘Venetian’ we could find, It’s been a rare treat!





Through the wall of the Doge’s prison. Look closely....




Dream come true. I’m sitting in a gondola! Eeeeeeeee!!!

One Plus Twelve Twenties

From the time I was little, I’ve loved animals. Daddy was a veterinarian. It was a match made in Heaven.

I found a sick doggie. Daddy fixed him. At 50, I discovered that meant easing him across the Rainbow Bridge.

I wanted a bunny. I almost caught  jackrabbit. Who knew fully-grown bunnies could squeeze between two-inch cage bars?! Not me.

Daddy found a baby deer. We raised him on a bottle. For a little while, we had our own Bambi!

My first horse was a Shetland pony. Aptly named ‘Pinto’. Because he was one. He should have been named Ornery.

My family raised pigs. They were fun to play with. Smart. Resourceful. And when Daddy wasn’t watching, fun to ride.

I got my first puppy in grade five. Cheetah. She was a terrier. She was loud. I loved her anyway.

Cheetah once saved me from a mountain lion. It was just a bit scary. Sometime I’ll tell you about it.

Cheeko was my horse. I didn’t know till he piled my dad that only I could ride him. Big oops.

The first dog I bought for me was a sheepdog. Muffy. She protected me. I’ve loved the breed ever since.

My kids and I raised hamsters, guinea pigs, gerbils and chinchillas. Furry and cute. Yep. I still like dogs best.

I directed a play that needed birds. I borrowed a finch. Oops. I’ve had finches now for over 20 years.

We raised Old English Sheepdogs for over thirty years. We really thought we were done. Turns out we are not.

Today’s post is a writing challenge. This is how it works: contributing bloggers each picked a number between 12 and 74. The submitted numbers were then assigned to other bloggers challenged with writing at least one piece using that exact number of words. I know it will come a surprise to know I was assigned the word count number: 20It was submitted by: my BFF, Karen at Baking in a Tornado.Thanks Karen! This was a blast!
Now, you’ll find links to the other blogs featuring this challenge. Check them all out, see what numbers they got and how they used them.  
Baking In A Tornado Spatulas on ParadeWandering Web DesignerSarah Nolan    

Full Bucket

I don’t have money, I’m not rich,
But still, I have a bucket list.There’s nothing daring, none risqué,No scores to beat, no games to play,I don’t need danger, cash rewards,And only things I can afford,So each takes time (to save some cash),So nothing quick and nothing rash,You’re won-der-ing what we could do,With all those guidlines, plus a few,Well, think no more how it could be,We’re on a shoestring, him and me,Yes, I tell you, it can be done,And still will be a lot of fun.We find the least expensive lair,Clean and comfortable’s all I care,The least of very costly meals,We search the bargains and the deals,And so we’ve managed, guy and girlTo see a lot of this old world.This week, has been the very best,I’ve crossed the top one off my list,Yes, dear old Venice topped them all,I got to see. I had a ball!I floated in a gon-dol-a,And climbed some church’s cup-o-la,Saw famous art to drop the jaw,With sculptures, hist’ry, opera,And still our group was not done yet,Just how much better could it get?We watched them manufacture glass,And tucked into some fine sea bass,We’d navigate by public mode,Got used to floating as we rode,And watched gondolas slip on byLike eels beneath Venetian skies,(One thing to know, it’s hard to sleep,With boats to count, instead of sheep,)We spent each day from dawn to dark,Explored from Roma to St. Mark’s...Now as we leave, I’ve got regrets,There’s nothing that beats this, I bet,But...Somehow, I think I won’t quite leave,Something will help me as I grieve,Things aren’t bad as they might seem,I’ll see the Grand Canal in dreams.
Mondays do get knocked a lot,With POETRY we all besoughtTo try to make the week beginWith pleasant thoughts, perhaps a grin?So all of us, my friends and meHave written poems for you to see.Please go see what my friends have done,You’ll be so glad. It will be fun!Jenny
Mimi
MotherOwlAnd now you’ve seen what we have brought...Did we help? Or did we not?
Next week we’re back to Jenny’s bit,We’ll talk of SHOES, my favourite!

To the Hilt

“And what are you going to do there?”Sally shrugged. “Dunno.”Mom sighed. “You’re telling me that you and Ruth are dressing up like the Pirates in some ridiculous books. Going to a something-or-other event at the Shrieking Slide Park. And you have no idea what it’s about?!”Again, Sally shrugged. “I just know it’ll be fun. And, Mom. It’s the Adventure Slide Park.”“You call it what you want. I’ll call it as I see!”Perhaps a bit of background. Because those of you who know Sally will definitely understand Mom’s concern.Cousin Ruth, had just returned from Mars . . . okay, not there, but I have no idea exactly where she was and even less chance of being able to pronounce it . . . and was already eyebrows deep into her next adventure.This one was local, allowing the participation of the aforementioned Sally.And just so you know, Cousin Ruth always invited me as well.I just have too much sense to go. Ahem . . .Sooo . . . invitation. Pirates.Adventure Slide Park.Cousin Ruth was on her way to pick up my sister. The two of them, if Sally was any indicator, were dressing to the hilt (I use this word purposely because Sally had a bona fide sword at her side.) for some ‘awesome pirate-y event’—I’m quoting her, of course. Details of exactly what they were going to do at this APE (see above) were sparse and really rather iffy.And Mom was torn between having a quiet afternoon with the distinct chance of storms later or keeping Sally home and giving up her afternoon all together.A tough choice.I sympathized. Again, those of you who know Sally . . .A car slowed outside and we heard the distinct sound of the undercarriage scraping the curb as the driver pulled into our driveway.“She’s here! She’s here!” Sally bounced up and down, then headed for the front door.Before she could open it, however, all three of us heard something strike it from the outside.Solidly.Mom put a hand on Sally’s shoulder, holding her back as she reached for the knob.Swinging the door wide, both she and I gasped.A gleaming cutlass was buried, point-deep, in the heavy wood. A cutlass still quivering from the force of whoever had put it there.“Ha!” someone outside shouted rather triumphantly. Mom peered out cautiously, then she took a deep breath and I saw her chin jut out.Uh-oh.“Ruth, you idiot! You could have killed someone!”“Pffff!” Ruth’s voice. “Stay out of the way of the door!”“But this is MY DOOR!!!” Mom’s voice rose. A lot.“Is Sally ready?”“Ahhhh!” Mom jerked the cutlass from the door and charged outside, weapon raised. Sally and I followed as fast as we could. I really don’t know what would have happened if at that precise moment, a car hadn’t backfired.Loudly.It sounded like a pistol shot.Mom gasped and stopped, her head snapping around toward the street.Of course, it was Mort, Sally’s beau, arriving in his centuries-old but still trusty and now yellow-painted Volvo. He fell (rather than stepped) out of the front seat, long legs tangling in his own sword and sashes. Forcing a cheap pirate’s hat over his unruly head of hair, he grinned and saluted with, of all things, a sausage. “Ready, me hearties?”Mom put a hand over her mouth as her gaze went from eye-patched and resplendent Ruth, to Mort and back again. Finally, she threw the cutlass down on the grass as Ruth’s booted feet. “You owe me a new door,” she muttered.“Sure you don’t want to come?” At this point I figured, quite rightly, that Cousin Ruth was the bravest--or most foolhardy--person I had ever met.Mom spun around and pinned her with a glare. Eschewing an answer, she lifted her chin. “If anyone wants me, I’ll be hiding under my bed.”I looked at Cousin Ruth and her two companions. "Erm . . . have fun?"
Each month Karen's Bloggers participate in a word challenge. All of us submit words to our intrepid leader, and each month she shuffles and re-distributes. The result is Use Your Words.And it's totally fun!This month, my words: books ~ pirate ~ slide ~ yellow ~ sausage, came (via Karen) from my uber-awesome friend Rena at https://wanderingwebdesigner.com/blog
Here are the Links to the other “Use Your Words” posts:
Baking In A Tornado https://www.bakinginatornado.com
Wandering Web Designer https://wanderingwebdesigner.com/blog
Spatulas on Parade https://spatulasonparade.blogspot.com
Follow Me Home https://followmehome.shellybean.com
Climaxed https://climaxedtheblog.blogspot.com
Part-time Working Hockey Mom https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch/