It has been a long time since I have updated anything going on in this house (as it has been pointed out by a few of you...sorry). Not that we haven't been bustling about; I just prefer sometimes to get lost in my imagination... this one however was too good to pass up.
If you were to characterize my "toddlers" it would be with one word: stink. Now I will tell you why.
The other day, Winston kept wanting to go out. That is not like my little piglet. He is either running around like crazy; attacking his stuffed toys, or making stink clouds in his sleep (I must also add to that: OR burping like a drunken sailor) but he doesn't just stand at the door to go out. This day was different so I indulged him; thinking the weather was nice and he DOES love to sleep in the sun of the outdoor sofa. I was wrong. I became suspicious after I noticed ... an odor. Not a sweet sunny outside smell. Oh my no, it was one... that made you wince and look around to blame someone for being rude; REALLY rude. Well I began to put it together that the smell got worse each time Winston came in. My little Nubian Princess, Birdie did the same. She would rush him as he came in the door, smack him with her paws and bite his scruff. Wow and I thought I was tough! So I decided to serve up a little spy mission. I waited patiently as he got motivated to ask to go out for a fourth time. I let him out and he walked slowly around the porch, taking his time to sign his name on my sprouting daffodils. (thanks Bud.) Then he would yawwwwn, and pretend to be bored but when I looked away he would fire up his little bat engine and jettison his tiny frame toward the shed. I knew in an instant what he was doing and failed my Lenten promise of "no swearing" as I headed off after him with Birdie (not wanting to miss the chance to see her "brother" get busted) close at my heels. He even tried to be so sneaky as to crawl between the garden and the barn itself. Like he thought I would lose him? Really? Well he IS a dog; not Snowden...But I AM Mother Russia...
Well my not so stealth piglet rounded the corner to pay dirt; literally. I could almost hear him giggling as he marched right up to the compost pile, dug at it, TOOK several bites of it and then began to roll.
HOLY HANNAH!
So he is wiggling playfully in rotting fruits, vegetables and some long gone rose stems while munching on... just that. Gross isn't the word. I look down at Birdie; who is a priss anyway, and she has the exact same look of disgust on her little black and grey face as if to say
"See Mommy? He is JUST FILTHY. Boys are stupid AND dirty!" I'm sure the chuff she gave was intentional.
I cleared my throat and tapped my foot; waiting for the piglet to see or hear me. But he didn't. He was so friggin happy that he just kept going; and if dirt or crud fell in his mouth, I swear I could hear the puppy version of "YEAH" and he would wiggle faster in appreciation for the mystery of gravity that kept gifting him such yummy stink treats.
"WINSTON!" I yelled at last, unable to stand it anymore.
He stopped and laid there on his back with a mouthful of trash and his dorky dog grin. "HUH?"
"GET OUT OF THERE RIGHT THIS MINUTE"
Birdie shifted her weight and if she'd have had arms, I'm certain they would have been on her doggie hips..
"NOW"
I think his sister in dog-language began to taunt "You're gonna giiiit it. You're gonna giiiit it."
He got one more turn in and stood, flipping damp gooey trash and decay all over us.
"EWWWWWW WIIIIINSTOOOON" I can only assume that the echo I heard was Birdie.
"Wha? Time to go in?" He stretched and dug his little toes in, grinding up just a few more bits. Then he coughed, gagged and hacked up a stem and top to what was once a red pepper (?) and dashed toward the porch. Upon his majestic arrival, he took the time to stop and sign the flowers again, smacking at the back door; all but shouting "Here. I want to go in HERE now. HURRY" as Birdie and I walked up, mentally communicating that indeed boys are stupid and dirty, he jumped happily at the door.
"You should go right to the shower or the garage you garbage can." I grumbled. He mistook that for "Good boy. I'm so happy you eat trash."
I let them in and he dove for the cookie jar. "You've GOT to be kidding" ... this apparently means "You deserve a bunch of treats for all you've accomplished today"
Birdie was at his side dancing as well, but hers was more "I'm so much prettier, and I don't stink. Cookies? Why yes please, I DO believe I would like one or seven of them."
So I did what any good mom would do. I reached in ....OOOOOOHHHH so slowly and got out a cookie..... from the REAL cookie jar...just for me and I ate it; being sure to show them my empty hands; confirmation that they would receive NOTHING.
So even as different as they are, they came to the same conclusion:
I'm a royal witch with a capital B.
Hey pretty people!
I have missed this place and I have missed you. Things have been CRAZY busy for me lately and I confess I have one more to post (I hope this weekend) I have a couple in the bank that I am still working on. I just haven't posted. Sorry. Bad Blogger.
We are up north this weekend and my hope of hopes is to get out on the trail hiking. Things look dry and Nag is looking pretty lonely in the corner. I will be one tired little girl ~ but it's my favorite kind of tired.
Safe travels if you are heading out. I hope to see you soon. Thanks for coming over, I'm glad we had a little time to catch up.
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