While Bobby's at Swords ... Picspam Ketchup!
One of the extra benefits of my new job is that Bobby can go back to German longsword training. We were both doing this for a while at the end of last summer; there is a historic swordfighting group in central Maryland that we were working with. But we had to get someone to come over and let the Goldens out, since we were gone until going-on ten, and that really wasn't fair for them to be home all day alone, so we gave it up. Now, though, Bobby can go while I Goldensit, which is fine by me.
But this means that, on Wednesdays, I will be home alone for most of the day. :( So, while I'm waiting for Bobby to get back from swords, I am going to catch up posting some pictures from the past few months, mostly of the Goldens.
Once per year, on St. Patrick's Day, I do something completely out of character and go with Bobby to O'Lordan's Pub in Westminster. It's out-of-character because I loathe being in crowds, particularly of rude and self-important drunk people. And O'Lordan's is crowded, and many of the people are rude and self-important, and just about everyone is drunk. Still, I have a good time every year. This year, I was sick with a cold but still had fun. A guy painted a shamrock on my face. (He was hired by the pub. I think. :^P)
Here, I am hugging Mr. Hoot, our plastic garden owl. We thought that we brought Mr. Hoot in for the winter, but when the snow melted, he was still out in the garden. He was also very dirty. :( So I brought him in and gave him a bath and a hug.
Mr. Hoot doesn't really work, considering that I find that the squirrels have been digging about two inches from the plastic pier piling he sits on, and songbirds flit around him and eat the strawberries. But he means well.
The other night, I was laying on my couch and Bobby was laying on his, reading. (You know you've settled into marriage when you have each claimed a couch and can't imagine switching up.) I heard something bump against the window and looked up from Emily (my Kindle), and it was a luna moth. Luna moths are endangered in some areas; I used to see them much more frequently when I was younger. Now I see one every few years or so. When I was a kid, I was told that they were especially sensitive to a particular type of pesticide, so when you saw them, you knew that that type of pesticide wasn't widely used that year. I don't know how true that is, but we saw one the other night, and it was cool. I have a dead one in a box somewhere. (I found it. I didn't kill it. Of course.)
Judging by the bushiness of the antennae, I'd say our luna moth was a boy. Photos, by the way, are by Bobby.
I know, I know. I have posted pictures of myself, a plastic owl, and a luna moth. But where are the Goldens??
Lance (front) and Alex (back). Lance has the ever-present ball in his mouth. Seriously, when we first come home, Lance runs like mad around the house, trying to find something to put in his mouth.
Alexander. Awww. Alex is my baby because he's belligerent like his Mommy. >:^)
Alex and I did have a very rough period during his adolescence where my family seriously thought they'd come over one day and find that I'd given Alex away because we did not see eye-to-eye on anything. We both like to have our own way, which is usually what we think the other doesn't want. We get along much better now. Alex is my snugglebug during the winter.
Lance with ball. Again. This ball isn't even his; it belongs to Lily, the Boston terrier next door. (To be fair, she takes their toys too. Big Orange was missing for weeks because she took it. I wasn't particularly happy when my neighbor threw it back over the fence, though, because it's the only one of the Bigs that still squeaks.) This one is Big Green II. Lance is obsessed with it.
Lance waiting for Bobby to throw the ball. I never see such intensity of expression any other time!
Alex waiting for Bobby to throw the ball. Not like he ever gets it; Lance owns him at playing catch. (Alex can kick Lance's ass, though.)
On Sundays, Lance's name changes to Phil because his name--Lancelot--is far too dignified for the dog Golden that he is. Phil is short for "Phil: Average Guy." We are supposed to only call him that on Sundays, but he answers to both now, so we all pretty much call him both all the time.
This picture is entitled, "Phil Being Phil."
The other day (and I can't believe I'm about to confess this), Bobby and I were at the liquor store and we found some cheap little cans of beer. So we bought a six-pack for the Goldens. Not to drink all at once. They share an 8-oz can for a treat. (They get to go for Italian ice once per week too.) But, when we came home with their beer, it was like they knew it was for them. Perhaps they know that Mommy and Daddy only drink Guinness. (Daddy occasionally drinks other imports. Mommy is strictly a Guinness or more-hardcore-dark microbrew girl.)
Phil Lance has the ubiquitous Big Green II, of course.
Lance (with Big Green II) looking terribly cute.
Finally, Bobby and I would often wonder what the Goldens did while we were gone to work all day. (Aside from taking pillows off the couch [Phil] and moving my slippers from the bedroom to the living room [Alex].) Since being home with them, I have my answer. This was taken today, right before I made lunch.
But this means that, on Wednesdays, I will be home alone for most of the day. :( So, while I'm waiting for Bobby to get back from swords, I am going to catch up posting some pictures from the past few months, mostly of the Goldens.
Once per year, on St. Patrick's Day, I do something completely out of character and go with Bobby to O'Lordan's Pub in Westminster. It's out-of-character because I loathe being in crowds, particularly of rude and self-important drunk people. And O'Lordan's is crowded, and many of the people are rude and self-important, and just about everyone is drunk. Still, I have a good time every year. This year, I was sick with a cold but still had fun. A guy painted a shamrock on my face. (He was hired by the pub. I think. :^P)
Here, I am hugging Mr. Hoot, our plastic garden owl. We thought that we brought Mr. Hoot in for the winter, but when the snow melted, he was still out in the garden. He was also very dirty. :( So I brought him in and gave him a bath and a hug.
Mr. Hoot doesn't really work, considering that I find that the squirrels have been digging about two inches from the plastic pier piling he sits on, and songbirds flit around him and eat the strawberries. But he means well.
The other night, I was laying on my couch and Bobby was laying on his, reading. (You know you've settled into marriage when you have each claimed a couch and can't imagine switching up.) I heard something bump against the window and looked up from Emily (my Kindle), and it was a luna moth. Luna moths are endangered in some areas; I used to see them much more frequently when I was younger. Now I see one every few years or so. When I was a kid, I was told that they were especially sensitive to a particular type of pesticide, so when you saw them, you knew that that type of pesticide wasn't widely used that year. I don't know how true that is, but we saw one the other night, and it was cool. I have a dead one in a box somewhere. (I found it. I didn't kill it. Of course.)
Judging by the bushiness of the antennae, I'd say our luna moth was a boy. Photos, by the way, are by Bobby.
I know, I know. I have posted pictures of myself, a plastic owl, and a luna moth. But where are the Goldens??
Lance (front) and Alex (back). Lance has the ever-present ball in his mouth. Seriously, when we first come home, Lance runs like mad around the house, trying to find something to put in his mouth.
Alexander. Awww. Alex is my baby because he's belligerent like his Mommy. >:^)
Alex and I did have a very rough period during his adolescence where my family seriously thought they'd come over one day and find that I'd given Alex away because we did not see eye-to-eye on anything. We both like to have our own way, which is usually what we think the other doesn't want. We get along much better now. Alex is my snugglebug during the winter.
Lance with ball. Again. This ball isn't even his; it belongs to Lily, the Boston terrier next door. (To be fair, she takes their toys too. Big Orange was missing for weeks because she took it. I wasn't particularly happy when my neighbor threw it back over the fence, though, because it's the only one of the Bigs that still squeaks.) This one is Big Green II. Lance is obsessed with it.
Lance waiting for Bobby to throw the ball. I never see such intensity of expression any other time!
Alex waiting for Bobby to throw the ball. Not like he ever gets it; Lance owns him at playing catch. (Alex can kick Lance's ass, though.)
On Sundays, Lance's name changes to Phil because his name--Lancelot--is far too dignified for the dog Golden that he is. Phil is short for "Phil: Average Guy." We are supposed to only call him that on Sundays, but he answers to both now, so we all pretty much call him both all the time.
This picture is entitled, "Phil Being Phil."
The other day (and I can't believe I'm about to confess this), Bobby and I were at the liquor store and we found some cheap little cans of beer. So we bought a six-pack for the Goldens. Not to drink all at once. They share an 8-oz can for a treat. (They get to go for Italian ice once per week too.) But, when we came home with their beer, it was like they knew it was for them. Perhaps they know that Mommy and Daddy only drink Guinness. (Daddy occasionally drinks other imports. Mommy is strictly a Guinness or more-hardcore-dark microbrew girl.)
Phil Lance has the ubiquitous Big Green II, of course.
Lance (with Big Green II) looking terribly cute.
Finally, Bobby and I would often wonder what the Goldens did while we were gone to work all day. (Aside from taking pillows off the couch [Phil] and moving my slippers from the bedroom to the living room [Alex].) Since being home with them, I have my answer. This was taken today, right before I made lunch.
