Says it all…

This is a poem written by Sir William Beach Thomas and was contained in a little book I’ve been reading called “A Countryman’s Creed,” published in London in 1946. He has put into words how I feel about my beloved dogs, Kip and Emmalee.

“My Spaniel”

“He lies contented at my feet,
His half-raised head my fingers meet;
And dog and man both know the sweet
Of life, in comradeship complete.

Together hour on hour we spend;
And till the fast approaching end
I shall not be ashamed to bend
The knee, in thanks for such a friend.

Gazing at me as half-devine
The brown eyes send a surer sign
Than any cunning words of mine
That strive sharp meanings to define.

It lies not in his competence
To trace the wherefore and the whence;
He rests on some profounder sense
Than my too proud intelligence;

And is content to know not why;
but knows all’s well, while he and I
Seek out each other’s company –
And lays his nose against my thigh.”

Cheers,

Bex

Jim is clairvoyant!

 Jim - how did you know? (see comments at my previous entry).

There is a funny story that goes with the ticket below.

The other day, about a week ago, I was doing my weekly food shopping.  When I wheeled my cart into the check-out aisle, down on the floor was a rather grubby-looking, slightly wet-looking, one dollar bill.  I carefully picked it up but it was so unappetizing to even touch, I held it out at arm’s length and gave it to the cashier and said “Here, someone dropped this, you can have it.”

After all my groceries were scanned and it was time to pay, the cashier asked, as she asks every customer, “Would you like to donate $1 to the Jimmy Fund?”  And, as usual, I quickly answered “No, thanks.”

(I work very hard for every dollar I earn!)

Then on second thought, I said to her “No, wait!  Use that dollar bill I just gave you and donate that for me!”

I had no idea there was a ticket involved.  I just thought I was donating the dollar bill.

She tallied up my food cost and gave me all the related papers/coupons/etc. that they give you these days, along with a scratch ticket.  I just stuffed it all in my purse and forgot about it. 

I never buy lottery tickets.  Ever.  Neither does Paul. 

At supper, I was relating this story to Paul and came to the bit about the scratch ticket and said “Oh!  I forgot!  I have a scratch ticket in my purse – I’ll go get it!” 

I made him scratch it off, and he looked at both sides for a long while, with quite the good poker-face, I might add, and finally handed it over to me saying “I think you may have won $500!” 

“No way!”

“Yes way!”

“NO WAY!”

“I think so!”

Neither one of us knew for sure so we had to get our eyeglasses out and read all the fine print on the back to see if we had, indeed, won.  It seemed that we had.  But I wouldn’t believe it until someone official told me so.

Next morning I took it up to the food store and showed it to the woman at the Service Desk.  Her eyes lit up and said “I do believe you have won $500!  You lucky lady.”

She went on to tell me that they NEVER have winners like that there. Maybe once.  Wow.

I had to fill out a long form and submit it, and I won’t receive anything for 4-6 weeks in the mail, but hey – I did win!

I forgot about that little incident in my life when writing my last entry.  How could I forget winning $500?  It has happened to me only one other time, the year I got married, when my family bought me a weekly numbers game ticket with our birthdays as numbers and it won me $500 then.  That was in 1986. 

Cheers,

Bex

Spring colour

No, that is not a picture of spring at Crow Cottage.  It’s last year’s fall colours, but I haven’t been outside with my camera in a dog’s age and don’t have a good current spring photo yet this year.  Shame on me, too, because this past week we have had the most exceptional colours splashing all around our gardens, front and back, and I haven’t gotten a single snap of them yet. 

Work, as usual, has been holding me captive. 

It’s been a dog’s age also since I’ve come in here to create something for you to read.  I’m sure you have plenty of other blogs/journals/diaries, etc., to keep you occupied.  But c’mon.  I’ve gotten really bad lately. 

Sorry.

It’s Friday.  I have to keep saying that to myself because I keep thinking it’s really Saturday, and different things happen around this place on a Saturday than on a Friday, and I’m all messed up in my head.  I kept thinking Paul would be selling lobsters this afternoon, so I asked him to get the lawnmower out and get it all ready to go in the front garden, and maybe, if I were feeling very ambitious (which I almost never am anymore), I might make a stab at mowing a patch of the front lawn.  He reminded me that he wasn’t going anywhere today and that’s when I realized it wasn’t Saturday. 

Every day is the same for me.  I work every day.  Just about.  If I work a lot on Saturday and Sunday, then I get Monday mornings free, but then I get more work at noontime and am back at it in the afternoon.

I think you all know the routine.  That’s another reason I never write because my life is so incredibly “same-old same-old” that I hate boring you with it. 

I have birds making a nest under the bottom of my air-conditioner here in my office.  They can’t get into the house, but they are just t’other side of the little vents on the sides, and I listen to them all hours, building their nest, laying their eggs, raising their young birds, etc.  I like being that close to wild nature and them not knowing I’m listening.

Every year, within minutes of the window air-conditioning unit being installed into my window, those birds are there, hoseying the space underneath it in the windowsill for their spring nesting area.  Then their work starts. 

I have to go.  Things are happening here and I need to attend. 

Catchya later. Maybe with some new snaps.

Cheers,

Bex & Co.

Is change really necessary?

I realize change is what keeps the world spinning round and round, but once I hit 60 last year, change became my enemy.  I don’t like change any more. 

I did change my header photo just now, but that’s only because I don’t have much to say here.  So you get a new picture but it’s nothing you probably haven’t seen already.  

It’s Sunday.  I’ve been trying to work most of today.  So far I’ve worked a total of 4-1/2 hours today.  All the in-between time has been spent running up and down stairs, letting dogs out, waiting for them to start barking, then trying to coax them into coming back in.  That’s what you have to do when you have dogs and close neighbors.  They do their fair share of barking but we do try to limit it as much as possible.  I mean, a dog’s got to bark SOME times!  After all. 

It’s been so long since I’ve used my computer to “play” – it seems it’s all work and no play for me lately.  Makes for a dull Bex.  No trips to England for going on 7 years.  What?  Is that right?  I think 2002 was our last trip.  Wow, that’s disgusting.  We used to go every other year or at most every 3rd year.  But 7 years?  The economy is what I’m blaming now, but it’s really other stuff.  I don’t really want to hop an airplane these days.  The older I get, the more frightened I become of flying.  I keep telling Paul that it’s not natural to be so high up and going so darn fast.  Not natural.  Then plane crashes lately, and I’m just about determined to never step foot on a plane again. 

But I know I will.  If I live that long.  After I retire.  I will get back to England if it’s the last thing I do.

Cheers,

Bex