Church of Cheeses

Not many people know this, but Juno is devout spiritual being. She follows the path of Cheeses. Worshiping nightly, she prays for the coming of Cheeses, while MWD ministers an amuse-bouche in the kitchen.

“Like an angel descending from heaven, Cheeses makes its way from the great Mount Kitchen Island, and behold, lands directly on my tongue where it fills my soul with joy. What Cheeses has to offer, let no man put it anywhere but in my mouth.”

Imposter

Alls I’m sayin’ is, if this dude comes hippity hoppity down your lane, knocks on your door with those tiny arms and paws, and calls himself the Easter Bunny, ask to see his ID.

Filed under: Things you see across from a Christian Church in Santa Cruz Mountains

Careers in Gaslighting

I don’t know about ya’ll but I keep holding my breath waiting for Sean Spicer to lose his shit on National TV.  I get dizzy watching him spin on every episode of “Survivor: The White House.”   Any bets on how long he’ll last?

April Showers

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The weather was dubious today and the cracker was concerned his ginormously-sized ears would get frosty. So he borrowed my Finnish boiled wool cap. As long as he doesn’t ever borrow my go-go boots, we’re good. 044/365

We had some rather strange weather for Northern California these last two days: rain!  Continue reading “April Showers”

April Fools!

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038/365 – I am fully recovered from my addiction to mastication. April Fools!

I guess the joke is on me. Sigh. It’s like I’ve never owned a Siberian Husky before.

Siberian Sell-Out

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Thank you Juno, for volunteering to walk calmly into the shower stall for your bath the other night for the small price of a chicken treat. I did not have the energy to play our usual game of “wrestle the 60-lb Siberian into the the shower stall.”  I appreciate your compliance—however reluctant it was.

I’m afraid that your husky cries of how you were victimized went unheard.  We live much too far away for any pup to hear you. But now all of Husky-dom will sigh in disappointment in how easily you were duped.

Continue reading “Siberian Sell-Out”

Turkish Spa

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Why is it, whenever I give the dogs a bath and lay out about 187 old towels and blankets for them to roll around on for drying off, the Sibe always insists on going straight to my prized handwoven Turkish rug to finish her drying? Remember that time when Mr. Wild Dingo and I were in Turkey and he insisted he wasn’t going to buy any rugs?  (If you haven’t read it, you really must read it because it’s probably one of  the best too-hilarious-to-be-true-but-really-is-true stories on this site. So go read it.)  Well, this is my favorite of those rugs.  Continue reading “Turkish Spa”

There Goes the Neighborhood

“Our neighbors are pigs,” said Mr. Wild Dingo.

Now, we’ve lived in Santa Cruz mountains for many years and have had our fair share of neighbors with questionable habits such as decorating their garden with Budweiser cans or solving their leaking roofs with a blue tarp, every winter, year after year.   As attractive as those blue tarps are, they get a little old. And Mr. Wild Dingo and I enjoy the mountains, so we bought property surrounded by enough trees to avoid enduring more years of “Blue Tarp Season.” Even with our particular opinions about Blue Tarp roofs and aluminum gardens, I thought that was a pretty strong statement. Continue reading “There Goes the Neighborhood”