You know those Mexican wrestlers....

you know the ones. They wear fancy masks and are super heroes in their communities...


Well, let me present to you El Gato es Lucha Libre

 I know this looks like I was being mean to Alice, but she really likes her new mask. She's going to be a super hero when she grows up.

Now, then, on to Frank the Lion

Me: Hey Frank stop so I can take a picture. Frank: No

Me: No Frank, this way, Please..... Frank: No

Me: Frank Stop so I can take a picture. Frank: Again...NO!

Well, whatever, today is NOT a good day for photos. But Frank is so darn cute and his hair cut will change soon and he won't be my little lion anymore, well, until next time (hee hee)

"Don't do it, that's just rude!!!!!"

I was going to take a photo of Frank today. Mr. T. said, "NO Way! don't do it, that's just rude!!!!!!" Why, you may or may not ask. Well, I gave Frank a hair cut. Not just any hair cut! A super shorty BUT, I only did his body because Mr. T. has a specific way he likes them to look and that requires his artistic abilities on their faces and heads. Mr T. couldn't finish the job because he broke his hand.  Soooo Frank looks like a little black lion, or like a dog with no clothes, or a dog in a lycra body suit that was a little small and he couldn't quit pull his pants up all the way so his crotch is sagging a bit. Or  he looks like a dog with half of a hair cut.

So, why would it be rude? It's not like he has to go to grade school and his pals might find out he got a bad hair cut. It's not like his girl friend will come over some day, or his future wife (He can't get married, he doesn't have balls) and I'll show them embarrassing photos.

Frank is a DOG! He Looooooooves his new do and I love it too, because stickers and weeds don't stick on his shirt and pants. Yay!

Wouldn't you know?

Today I read a NY Times article which I found both disturbing, and almost unbelievable. Apparently some food distributors in Hong Kong and mainland China have been up to no good: "Thursday that the police had caught a gang of traders in eastern China who bought rat, fox and mink flesh and sold it as mutton." Really? If you are a restauranteur and you receive a box of what should be leg of lamb and said legs are the size of well, maybe a small to medium sized house cat. And the color of the meat? And maybe the order that wafted out of the box and/or pan? So that wasn't suspect? Then consider the flavor? Or did they not give a shit because rat/fox/mink is only $0.04/lb whereas lamb is around $4.00/lb? Scary!!!!

Hey who wants to vacation in China? or Hong Kong? Heard the food is fantastic. YIKES. Here's a true story, a friend of ours spent most of last summer working in Hong Kong. First thing he wanted to talk about when he got home was how great the food was. I wonder if he had any rat/fox/mink.

Lazy

I'm soooooooooooo lazy! I feel like I've either fallen out of the lazy tree or I rolled down the lazy hill and landed in a heap at the bottom of either the tree or the hill. I'm too lazy to determine if it were a tree or a hill.

For more than two years I've determinedly walked a MINIMUM of 10,000 steps per day. It was my mission and my purpose. Well, that might be a little strong. However, I've made an effort and I've been very successful with it. Walking is great exercise and the boys like it and I like it and going outside feels awesome. Except this spring I am so F$%#ing tired of being cold. And I am so tried of the treadmill. So maybe I'm not lazy. Maybe I'm just cold and bored.

What I do know is that I'd either better pick up the pace or cut back on the brownies. So, I guess I should determine if I'm willing to be lazy enough to necessitate the stoppage of brownie eating. Brownies will most likely win, so I'd better get off my lazy bum and lace up my shoes.

A thrift shop and a patty melt.

Back in the day, the only experience I had with a thrift shop was "Deseret Industries". They are the only kind I knew about, because I grew up in southeast Idaho, or what might be commonly referred to as Mormon Land (therefore, Deseret Industries) so as a kid I had NO idea that other "thrift shops" existed.  When I was teen, every year we had to go door to door and collect other people's crap that they didn't want so that the stores could be restocked and then sorted and given away to other causes. It's a pretty decent organization, but I hated knocking and begging and I never shopped at the stores because they were, in my opinion, full of crap. As an adult I knew it as a place to buy icky boots and ugly dresses to be repurposed as Halloween costumes. That's it. Never, ever any other reason the hit a place like that.

A few years ago a "friend" (a word I use loosely in regards to that particular person) bought a diner and asked me to help her. So, I spent the summer at a waitress, which was strange but fun. Well, every.single.day I would ruin some part of my clothes. Diners are messy and bleach water ruins anything it touches, of course. So after about two weeks I was out of clothes so she said let's go shopping. I had NO idea that thrift shops have great second hand clothes. Not just crap, good stuff. Well, at least in Butte Montana, where there is a different thrift shop on every corner, this is true, seriously hundreds of these shops, so on that particular day we hit probably ten different shops. I spent about $10 and bought enough clothes for the rest of the summer. I know that sounds like bs, but it's true, for example... in one shop I found a great little purse, it had a tag that said $2.00. I was pretty happy about that, but when I got to the cash register the gal said, "how do you feel about $0.50". I said, "really? Okay". I paid her and said, "I would have paid $2.00." She said, "why should you?" Why indeed. So, since that day, I have been a regular at the three thrift shops in Anaconda, usually I walk away with nothing, but some times I really score. Just last Monday I went in with the intent of buying some dog grooming, throw-aways. I came out with two pairs of "dog pants" and a super cute pair of capri's from Eddie Bauer. I almost ordered the exact same pair from their web site last week. Glad I didn't because I saved $74.75. Pretty cool.

Anyway, thinking of the diner reminds me of the Patty Melt. Up until my stint as a waitress, I had never had a patty melt and thought anyone who ordered it was a moron. I mean, it's a "grilled cheese with a patty" right? Who eats that? It's weird and stupid and a dumb idea right? Not . so . fast...

It's pretty simple and I guess I was the moron because most people are familiar with this particular piece of culinary heaven. For anyone who isn't, a patty melt is a hamburger patty with melted cheese on bread. And with that description who on earth would ever order it? Well, it is much more than that, a REAL patty melt is a perfectly seasoned and cooked hamburger patty with melted swiss, thousand island dressing on marbled rye bread. Then to assemble it you just slap all that stuff on the bread and grill it like a grilled cheese. It's so good that I could (but I don't) eat one every day. I really want one right now, but it's 8:30 p.m. and I already had dinner which was far less exciting and something I'll talk about it on another occasion.

A Funny Ad from the Canadians and What

This is just plain funny!


That is a link, it should show up in pink, but I've noticed it almost never works and I don't know why. It's a very funny ad about smoking from the Canadian Health people. I just laughed myself silly watching it.

In other news, Mr. T wants to change Alice's name to What. Why? well because her tail is always a perfect question mark. Can you imagine? It's embarrassing enough to take your dog to the vet and they ask his name and I have to say Bill, or Frank, or Ross. Jake and Sam are pretty normal dog names. I have to take credit for Frank, but Mr. T. named very one else.

Back to What, I mean Alice. So here's how it would go

Vet: What's this kitty's name?

Me: What.

Vet: What's this kitty's name?

Me. What.

You can see where this would go...

St. Patrick's Day

As a child St. Patrick's Day was nothing more than Green Day. I didn't know that people outside of the bubble I grew up in were dancing in the streets, floating on green rivers, eating corned beef and cabbage and drinking green beer. I didn't know that St. Patrick is revered in Ireland for driving all of the snakes out into the sea. I mean that alone is enough for me to celebrate his day. Of course, I grew up in Mormon land, we didn't talk much about the Catholics or their traditions.

So about five years ago when Mr. T and I moved to our little corner of Montana we discovered just what we've been missing. Butte and Anaconda are full of Irish Catholics. They take St. Patty's day very, very seriously. Which is a good thing they hold parades and it doesn't matter what the weather's like. AND all the restaurants (which throughout the year have crappy food) serve the BEST corned beef and cabbage in many, many variations. And here is a little known fact (little known to me anyway) boiled cabbage is so yummy! I could eat two heads of it myself.  I can't believe I missed out on this for so much of my life.

I stole this photo, but it looks very similar to what we had for dinner yesterday. And I'm proud to say I fixed it all myself. It's another super easy meal. Buy prepared beef, boil for 1 hour per pound. Last hour add cut up carrots, potatoes and CABBAGE!  Tadah! I could eat this every day of my life!

And one last funny fact. The Irish didn't even come up with the corned beef deal. It was the Jews. The American Irish totally stole their idea, threw on a green shirt ate the feast, drank the green beer and danced in the street! How can that be a bad thing?