One Potato, Two Potato, I Potato You!

Did you hear about the heart shaped potato the lady gave to President Obama when he was on the Dave Letterman show? Well, this isn't it. This one is from our small crop in the backyard. Alan brought it to me the other day and said, "I have a present for you." I smiled when I saw the potato. Every time I get one of his little gifts, I know why I love him. When they say, it is the little things that matter, I know it is true. Nothing says, "I love you." like a heart shaped potato.

I remember something that happened when I was working in a shop in my late 20's. During one of our breaks, we ladies were telling about the gifts we received for Christmas from our husbands. Most everyone got rings or watches or clothes or something personal. The funny thing is, I don't remember what Alan gave me that year but I remember what the youngest girl in the group got. Her husband gave her her own chainsaw.  If you think this is meant to be a funny story, it is not. The room got quiet when she told us what he got her. Not much else was said. But later, when she was out of ear shot, she was the butt of jokes about her and her husband. I suppose I laughed and joined in, I don't really remember. What I do know is that now, nearly 40 years later, I wish I had stuck up for her.

I have always received little gifts from Alan for no particular reason or occasion. Like the little blue plastic smurf that he gave me when we were on a trip out west. It was cute and made me laugh. I set it up on top of one of the night lights in our motor home. Somehow it fell off and went down onto the bulb and melted, leaving a big gaping hole where his mouth should have been. When I saw it, I threw it in the waste can not thinking any more about it - until Alan found it. He said, "you're not going to throw this out are you?" I could tell by his expression that he thought I should have been more careful with it. That was when I realized how sensitive and sentimental he is.

In my china cabinet are a lot of little oddities that only he and I know the meaning of. I often wonder what my friends think when they are looking at my nice dishes and see the little blue smurf guy with a black, burnt hole where his face should be.  Do they tell someone and laugh at what they've seen? Don't get me wrong. Alan has given me many nice gifts over the years, but the ones that still remain in my memory and make me smile are the little things - like the little birds nest with 2 tiny speckled eggs in it and the little, miniature Dr. Seuss, plastic Cat in the Hat that he found.

I hope the girl who got the chainsaw, still gets odd and unusual gifts from her husband. I hope her life is easier now than when they had to work so hard to get in enough wood for the winter. I hope they still laugh like kids in bed at night over something silly that happened during the day.

One of my friends has dared me to put my potato on eBay. I might have to. I don't think it will fare too well for the next 20 years in my china cabinet.

Not everyone hates the retirement home!

In my wildest dreams, I can't even imagine someone being interested in a blog written by me - about what I am doing on a day to day basis. Good grief, I can't even get my husband to listen to me most days. And what to write about? What can I use for a title? Marie's Musings? Let's see - Google musings - see what it means. Definition: thoughts, especially when aimless and unsystematic. Yep, that pretty much fits. Should it be serious or funny? Since I don't dare post the funniest family events or videos for fear of retribution, maybe I'll start with the critters that inhabit my home. I've heard tell that our pets may soon be able to sue us. I hope they can get better lawyers than we've dealt with in the past.

My husband and I have always had a love for dogs, cats, horses and other animals. Through the years we have been a safe haven for many four legged creatures that have wandered in looking for someone to love them. Right now we only have four dogs and a cat but that could change at any moment.

Just three weeks ago, Charlie came to stay with me for a week. I am also a pet sitter for a couple of people. I was walking Charlie on a leash because as his owner says, "you can't let him loose - he will run!" Now that's another story. Well, Charlie and I were taking a walk up by my garden with my other 3 dogs. On the railroad tracks only about a 100 feet away, were three beagles looking at us and wagging their tails. I said, "Come on, Charlie, come on girls, let's go to the house." I sure didn't want my girls running over there and investigating. By the time I got back to the house, one of the beagles, an older gal who obviously had had some puppies in her day, came in to the yard and collapsed. She couldn't go any farther. Her companions had gone on their way leaving her to fend for herself. Without much coaxing, she came to my husband who hung around to make sure she was OK. Before she even got up, he was calling her Mollie.

After she got her wind back, she followed us to the house and came in with the rest of us. I put an ad in the paper the next day hoping someone would call and be excited to have found her. Day one went by with no calls. The next day I got one call. The lady wanted to know if the dog had a black face and brown and white body. I explained that Mollie had a brown face and a black and white body. On day three, a lady left a message saying she was sure it was her dog. When I tried to return the call she didn't answer. So the next day I tried again. This time I got her and she said, "it's not my dog!". She didn't say she found her dog but I had to assume she did. Well, by the time days four though seven had passed without any more calls, Mollie was beginning to like it here even though there were three dogs here ahead of her. Maybe that was part of the attraction. They looked fed and clean and happy. Maybe she would be too.

The other night I got a call from a neighbor telling me they thought they had found Mollie's owner. My husband took the call and I could tell from his reaction that he was disturbed. When I heard someone was coming for Mollie, my heart sank. How can you become so attached to an animal so quickly? Well, the girl came in all excited to see Mollie, but Mollie was not excited to see her. I asked if Mollie was an inside dog or an outside dog. She sighed and said, "no, she's not allowed in the house, she lives outside." Right away I knew why Mollie was perfectly happy sitting by me - I mean tight to me. She wouldn't leave my side. Dogs truly are pack animals and they are most content when the pack is all together. Mollie had already become part of our pack.

Short story beginning to get very long - Mollie is still with us. To my friends who don't understand how I can share my home with so many dogs, I say - when you start sleeping with one eye open every night to protect me and my stuff, you can move in too. There is still room in this retirement home.

By the way....Happy Birthday to our son, Walter today! Love you, kiddo!


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