My puppy's all grown up...

Wow, exactly a month since I last posted. How unprofessional of me! The holidays will do that to you. And by "holidays," I mean "college football."

I was looking at some new photos I took of Murphy, and I can't get over how different she looks now, compared to when we picked her up in July at 8 weeks old.

Her first photo (by phone) on the way home, the day we picked her up:

Later that month:


In August, after getting spade (thus the bandage on her arm from the anesthesia):

In September, at a house party for the UF-Tennessee game with a friend of ours (being silly - he didn't know I had the camera!) :

In October, in our front yard:

In November, another house party, which was ostensibly for the SEC Championship game, but turned into a dog party:

Last night, playing tug-o-war with Reggie:

When we first got Murphy, she was a little puff of fur with stubby legs and tiny ears. A friend called her "something that falls out of the dryer." Many others commented that she looked like a little bear. And then her snout lengthened (and became adorably freckled), her legs stretched out, and her ears grew as well. Our little bear cub is a dog now.

I think she's in an awkward "middle school" look now, but soon, I think she'll look a lot like her mama, Ruby:

Death of a Loquat Tree (with bonus puppy photo!)

We have several loquat trees in our back yard. Also known as Japanese plums, these trees are a pretty common sight around here, almost to the point of invisibility - you kinda stop noticing them. Until something weird happens.

I'm poking around with the dog in the back yard a few days ago and notice that one of the loquat trees is looking, well, pretty bad. Every leaf is drooping and turning brown. What's weird is that there are two more on either side of it - and they look great! They're actually flowering right now.

Not my best work, but here are two of the trees - the dying one is on the left:

A close-up of the leaves:


The other healthy tree:


I brought a leaf in to Kim, our Master Gardener, but it's really hard to tell what's ailing a tree by one brownish leaf. There's no sign of insect damage, which would lead me - in all my ignorance - to believe it's a disease affecting this tree. So why just the one? We must have seven or eight loquat trees in the back yard.

If we were to figure out what the problem was, I hope it's an inexpensive cure. Kyle doesn't really like the loquats for some reason, and has been talking about taking them down. Luckily, he's got an invasive mimosa and some dangerously close pine trees on his to-do list now.

In a completely unrelated story, my puppy!

Just chillin' on the front lawn with Kyle. I can't believe how big she's getting. Not a pokey little puppy anymore, sigh...

Although not a grownup dog, either. This morning I stumble out of the bathroom to see that Murphy has thrown up on the bedroom carpet (for some reason she never chooses to do this on the tile). This is not the first time this has happened, and in fact, it's the same stuff - pine bark, leaves, but with a new addition - some fiber from a toy she destroyed at a friend's house the previous evening.

Not the best way to start your day. But then I look at her and she's just so damn cute.

To use a phrase that's becoming very popular in our household, damn dog.

This frog: cute or invasive?

I found this fellow hanging out on our kitchen windowsill the other night, probably attracted to the floodlight in our back yard.

It was pretty small (wish I'd taken a photo with something in the shot for size comparison), and quite calm. I thought his hazel eyes were beautiful, almost bronze.

I called Kyle out for a look and he thought it might be a Cuban treefrog - which would be bad. They're invasive - they eat our native Florida treefrogs and compete for resources with them. Florida treefrogs are much smaller and have significantly smaller toe pads. You can read more at the UF/IFAS Gulf Coast Research & Education Center's Invasive Cuban treefrog web page.

Comparing this photo to one of a Cuban treefrog I found on the UF/IFAS web site, I'm afraid Kyle was right:

The problem with Cuban treefrogs is that their coloring can vary pretty widely, from really dark brown, to striped or splotchy. But the toe pads look pretty similar.

I was pretty bummed. You're supposed to humanely dispose of them - in fact, it's illegal to release them again. The best way to euthanize the Cuban treefrogs is to put a generous dose of benzocaine (20%) on either their backs or stomachs, which will render them unconscious. You then put them in a plastic baggie and place it in the freezer, where the froggy "goes to sleep." Be sure to wear gloves while doing this, as the frog can give off a slime that irritates the skin.

Not being sure at the time that it was a Cuban treefrog, I didn't do this. But I guess I'll have to if I see it again. (I kinda hope I don't see it again.)

Pretty awesome cookies and a bit of Betty Crockerism

I know - it's me, ranting yet again about baking. But wait! They were so pretty, I had to share a photo, and they're so tasty, I wanted to share the recipe.

These are Chocolaty Caramel Thumbprints, from Better Homes and Gardens, and they are delish! Yes, a wee bit time-consuming. You have to bring the dough together and then chill it for two hours. This is not a "Oh, look - it's 8:30 in the evening. I think I'll make some cookies" recipe. And then you have to roll said dough into little balls, dip them in egg-white wash, roll them around in finely chopped pecans and then smush with your thumb. That's not counting the melting of caramels and chocolate.

BUT. They're so pretty, and so yummy! I think they're great for a potluck sort of thing, or to impress someone (boss, boyfriend, in-laws, holier-than-thou neighbors).

My hubby loved them. Which reminds me of something funny. We were sitting on the back porch yesterday after work; he's eating a chocolaty caramel thumbprint and we're talking about (for the billionth time) how badly I need new shoes and how we're not paupers so why don't I just go buy some for chrissakes? And I offer up my usual "I hate shopping."

To which my husband adds, "You just hate spending money." (Which is only partly true. For real - look at my Publix or Target receipts. Good beer isn't cheap, either.)

He pauses, and then says, half a cookie in hand, "My God, I'm married to a woman who doesn't like to shop or spend money, and actually thinks baking and cooking is fun. I am the luckiest husband alive. You're perfect."

Now, before you get your feminist thongs in a wad, I promise you that he also loves my wit, appreciates my intelligence, and bows to my mighty credit score. Just because it's a bit of stereotyping and old-fashioned doesn't mean it didn't make me smile. Who doesn't want their husband to think they're the most amazing woman on the planet?

Anyway, I was flattered. And it's hard to complain about old-fashioned stereotypes while wearing a "dressy apron."

Pretty . . . weed

I was walking across the "lawn" from the parking lot to my office building this morning, and came across this lovely flower:

It's really quite pretty - if you look at the full-sized version of this photo, you'll see that each little blossom resembles a tiny little snapdragon flower.

In reality, this plant is really small. The flower couldn't have been more than an inch tall, if that. And I'm quite sure it's some sort of weed, as it was growing merrily across the grassy strip surrounding the parking lot. Plus, the leaves remind me of another weed found pretty much everywhere in Florida, the dreaded spurge. But I've never seen one with such pretty flowers.

I looked through the book "Weeds of Southern Turfgrasses," pulled from the shelf of my coworker and Master Gardener, Kim. Nothing - no tiny, low-growing weeds with itty-bitty-pretty flowers.

Perhaps someone will recognize it here? Hmm, I'm not sure how many botanists who specialize in Florida landscape weeds read my blog.

Things I Want

Yes, even a penny-pinching tightwad desires stuff sometimes.

I love pretty much anything in the Arts & Crafts style. But I especially like crewel embroidery, also known as crewelwork. Crewelwork uses heavier wool for embroidering and usually sewn on a sturdy fabric (in order to support the weight), like linen. I like the style of early 20th century work done in a Jacobean fashion - stylized floral patterns, mainly.

A lovely example of a modern piece is this pillow from Pottery Barn:

I have one like it at home. Of course, the pillow I have was probably $20 at most, from World Market in Jacksonville. (Oh, World Market - how I miss you! Pier One ain't got nuthin' on you!)

This is $40, and that's just for the pillow cover - you'd pay an additional $18 for a pillow "insert." I looked around the Internet for a cheaper alternative, but 16x26" doesn't appear to be a common size.

So, a $60 pillow? I don't think so. What a bummer!

But it's so pretty...

Mairzy Doats and Regrets

I have no idea why or how, but a song my grandmother used to sing popped into my head. I started singing it out loud as I walked down the stairs in my office building (don't worry - no one else was there).

Mairzy doats and dozy doats and liddle lamzy divey
A kiddley divey too, wouldn't you?
Mairzy doats and dozy doats and liddle lamzy divey
A kiddley divey too, wouldn't you?

Now, if your elderly relatives didn't sing this ditty to you as a child, you're probably wondering, "What the . . . ?"

It's what they call a "novelty song," and it's from the World War II era. It became popular on the radio, and the G.I.s fighting over in Europe liked it too. (Rumor has it they used the nonsensical lyrics for passwords.)

While she could be quite stern, my grandmother had a playful side - from convincing me that she could change red lights to green with her mind, to honking at cows (she told me they understood that to be a human "hello") - and she sang this song enough that it's taken up residence in my memory, popping out from time to time.

Walking through the near-empty building, I started humming it. It had been a while, so it took a second to get the whole verse. But when I did, two very different senses hit me, of goofy pride that I'd remembered the lyrics, and bittersweet nostaglia.

I still miss my grandmother, gone more than five years now. I regret the time lost that I could have spent with her, thanks to my family's absence from Maine for 15 years. We got along famously when I was small, but we never got to know each other as fully-formed adults. I think she would have liked me as an adult.

Lost in these thoughts, another emotion crept in:

Guilt.

I felt a slight pang of remorse, knowing that I was depriving my parents of grandchildren. Of that relationship my grandmother had with me.

And maybe, also, a little sad that I will never have a grandchild, no one with whom to share goofy songs, dubious psychic powers, and secrets that only grandparents and grandchildren share, things that too cool for Mom and Dad to know about.

I still feel it as I write; there is no wrap-up paragraph to explain how I dealt with these emotions. I don't know if there really ever will be. That slight tug at my soul, and at my decision to not have children, might remain forever.

******************************************************

Oh, and in case you have no clue to what the song's about, sing it out loud.

No? Okay, sing this out loud: Mares eat oats and does eat oats, and little lambs eat ivy. . .

Pretty silly, isn't it? But it makes me smile. Perhaps it made you smile, too. Teach it to your kids - they'll probably love it.