As any parent or guardian of young souls, human or canine knows, silence may be the precursor for disaster, so when after a lengthy and annoying barking fit the mutts suddenly turned silent, my 'disaster antenna' went up and I went to check on the suddenly very quiet mutts.
They had cornered a possum and Priscilla had it by its neck and with absolute concentration and a will, was killing it.
And that was the eerie part of the spectacle...the silence. For once the mutts were quiet, even they who were not involved in the act. Just a lot of heavy breathing.
As possums go this was not a very big one, more like an over sized rat, but all the same it was a kill and my usually docile and friendly Priscilla had turned into a killer.
She wanted to parade the kill but that was just a step too far, so I swept it up on a dustpan and threw it out in the jungle.
The mutts have all forgotten about the possum kill, but I must admit that I, the big boss man, look at Priscilla in a slightly different way. The utter ruthlessness of the kill has made me ponder.......who next?

I was feeling despondent and restless, so I decided to check some old emails and found one from 2005 where I talk about the appearance of Priscilla and how she entered my life.
It was a long mail and sent to various people, many of whom are now gone.
And I wondered if it was read, if it gave these folks a few moments of --I don't know--joy, or just entertainment, something.
I have no replies to the mail so I have no idea what transpired.
I do know that I got something out of my system and what better way to do that but to share with others.
Like this.
And unlike emails, this is definitely a one way street, no replies required.
2005....wow, that is along time.

When it gets cold here in Vallarta..cold for me that is...I rummage through my closet to find my long sleeved shirts to wear over my ever present and much loved and much washed t-shirt.
The problem is that I have not replenished my shirt supply for a very long time, in fact not since I stopped going back to the US of A.
And that is a long time ago.
And I wonder
what will give out first
I.....or my dwindling supply of long sleeved shirts

Today I spent a goodly amount of time fixing one of the shirts, turning the collar ( I bet you did not know one could do that ) and fixing other problems, all the time thinking that by doing this I might just brace the race a bit.
Besides, being inherently cheap, it made me feel good saving money not buying a new shirt.
Happy New Year.

This morning the clock on the micro wave oven told me that there had been a black-out during the night and that I needed to reset it.
Nothing new in that. It happens all the time.
What was new was that I could not remember how to reset the clock.
I do it regularly and don't even think about the procedure anymore
till this morning where I stood in front of the oven staring at it
and nothing. Blank.
Eventually I got the clock reset but it was unsettling.
Is this what I have to look forward to ?
or was this caused by a miserable night and not yet functioning brain cells so early in the morning.
I hope that is the case.
The other option does not bear considering.

I stare at my 'in box' where scads of mails from good friends and family are waiting for a reply
and I sigh
and I think that this is not really the way to start the new year, owing so many a line or two
after all, I replaced the sponges in the kitchen
and threw out books and magazines and other out dated items
to make room for the stash of things to come
so now is the time to sit down
and answer the mails.......
and then again
maybe tomorrow, the first day of the new year is a better start
that is, if I don't have a nasty hang-over
in which case I will just wait another day.
After all, it will be a new year with 365 unused days to fill with chatter and emails.
See...I got around it.
Happy New Year.

It is the 24th. Traditionally the celebration of Xmas, at least for we who grew up in Europe.
Chuck was always amenable to celebrate this night rather than the morning of the 25th, and for so many years that was the rule of the house.
Like eating the salad after the dinner rather than before.
Chuck has been gone for eight years now and I have survived many Xmases by myself.
So why, I wonder, why is this year so difficult.
I have done my preparations. I have even baked a bread to go with the dinner. I have cooked and I have imbibed. Without that I am not sure I would be able to get through this.
So I fill yet another glass with cheap red wine, check the pots a'cooking and wonder
why?
I could have gone to McDonald's or Kentucky Fried Chicken and gotten a meal that would be filling if not exactly nutritious, and with a wide circle of losers like I with no other place to go, quietly getting through the evening maybe remembering better times, maybe not remembering at all, just filling a need.
But here I am, in my house with The Worthless Ones, some of whom have not even bothered to show up for din-dins, slowly emptying the gallon sized bottle of cheap wine and thinking of all my friends and family, all so far away.
Merry Xmas.

I don't know if this qualifies as a Christmas gift or merely a treat.
Many, many years ago Chuck bought a tea kettle, and not just an ordinary tea kettle. This was in the shape of an eggplant complete with the right color and top and handle in green.
And I didn't like it. Not one little bit, and yet is has been with first us and now me for a long time.
I have checked stores for tea kettles, I have visited websites checking for tea kettles and then, out of the blue, today as I was pushing my cart in Sam's loaded with nothing but a bag of dog food, I saw "The Kettle". There it was. Sparkly steel and clever design with a handle that won't get hot and a whistle to tell me the water is boiling and a price I could afford.
I got it. I love it. And more that anything I love throwing the old one out. Wave my wand and say
" Be Gone".
That is what is either a gift or maybe merely a treat.