The Wheels Have Come Off the Bus

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Our snow is finally gone, it’s staying light past dinner time, and it’s getting warmer, albeit slowly.

Spring is finally here.

For those of you who live where real winter exists, you are probably familiar with the concept of winter tires for your vehicle.

For those of you who don’t, these are more rugged, less slippery tires that are designed to help us navigate all the conditions winter decides to throw at us, so we can still leave our houses and be as much a part of society as we choose to be in the colder months. They are usually put on sometime around November, and come off around this time of year.

I have lived in places where winter exists all my life, but I have never actually participated in the “great tire switch out” in past years. I have always just had a good “all weather” tire on my vehicle and called it good enough.

Now that I live on a private, dirt road, with a couple decent hills, and this being my first winter here, with no context as to how well that road is maintained (very well, as it turns out), I decided to go with the less slippery winter tires this year.

Now that spring is in the air, it was time for those tires to come off, and my regular old tires to come out of hibernation, so I started my morning at my car guy’s place for this swap to take place.

The swap itself was relatively uneventful, besides a corroded lug nut they had some difficulty with, and I soon found myself back on the road with four “all weather” tires under me, and four winter tires riding behind me in my cargo.

When the car guy had stashed my tires in the back, he had stood them all up on end in a nice little row across my cargo area.

Not thinking anything of it when I got home, I popped open the lift-gate to unload the tires and was met with four very large tires barreling down on me. (I drive a large SUV, so these are very large tires!)

My reflexes kicked in and I assumed my best and quickest star fish pose, my arms going one way and my legs the other, and I managed to stop two of the tires with one of each.

However, I was not so lucky with the other two.

Now, I live at the top of a hill, and my yard slopes down this hill, all the way to the lake below me. The road to my house circles around and my driveway comes in towards the back of my house. My driveway has a nice gentle slope all the way down to the road, and you turn out of my driveway right at the top of the hill, heading down and around a curve. My neighbor’s house sits at the bottom of the hill and the top of the curve, diagonal from my house.

After interrupting the escape of two of my tires, I turn around to see my other two tires continuing their journey down my driveway to the road, quickly picking up speed as they go, apparently thrilled to be making this journey without a multi ton vehicle on their back.

The first tire took the inside lane, and as it made the turn out of the driveway onto the road, it hit one of the stones lining the edge of the drainage ditch there, and it’s journey (thankfully) came to a halt.

The other tire, however, took the outside lane, made the turn onto the road, and sped up significantly as it started it’s journey down the hill.

Somehow, it just missed the sand barrel at the top of the hill and careened down the hill, into my neighbors yard, through her driveway, jumped the little fence on the back side of her parking spot, and continued down the hill behind her house. (Luckily she and her husband winter in Florida, so neither they, nor their car are here at the moment)

At this point I lost sight of it from the end of my driveway, which is as far as I had gotten in the time it had traveled all that way, but there are a multitude of trees and other items on her hill, so I was sure it had come to rest somewhere on the hill.

I make it through her yard and to the top of her hill, trying to locate the tire’s final resting place, but having no luck.

And then I spotted it.

It had continued it’s journey all the way down the hill and directly into the lake.

I have no idea how it managed to miss absolutely every tree and obstacle between here and the lake, but yet it did.

It was floating about 10 ft out, with just a small portion of it still above water.

I get down to the lake and quickly realize it is just far enough out that there is no way I can reach it and still remain on dry land.

I look around for anything I can use to try to fish it out, and even try a couple sticks, but there is nothing long enough.

I start the trek back up the hill, trying to brainstorm ways I can get the tire out and still stay dry, but I had pretty much resigned myself to the fact I was going to have to get wet.

Which was extremely unappealing, as the ice has only been off the lake for a couple of weeks, and I’m guessing the water temp is not much above 35 degrees. And no, I do not belong to the cold plunge crowd, so this is not something I do for fun.

Luckily, I gave my dad a call to see if he had any great ideas on fishing tires out of lakes (he usually does) and sure enough, he did.

He suggested tying a rope around my hammer, and throwing it out into the middle of the tire, hoping the hammer would catch and drag it back in.

I make it back down the hill, and after a few unsuccessful throws, where the hammer hit the middle, but failed to catch on the way back, it finally did, and I was able to drag the tire back out, all while staying dry.

Hauling that tire all the way back up the hill to my house was another adventure all together.

All four tires are safely stored away until the next snow flies, and here’s hoping the only other “tires” that land in the lake this summer, are the inflatable ones designed to hold a person as they float lazily in the sun.

The Case of the Lost Chicken

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I have chickens. I know there are all the memes about women of a certain age and hens, or crazy chicken ladies. That’s fine. I can deal with the sterotypes and labels.

But I have chickens because nothing beats fresh eggs.

And they have the built in bonus of being the best composters to cut down on what you throw away.

So I have chickens.

When I moved into my new place, there was a convienently placed garden shed in the back corner of the lot, that was easily converted to a chicken coop with the addition of an inside wall and an outside run.

Now my chickens literally have the Taj Mahal of chicken coop set up. Lots of room to laze around inside, and even more room to run around, under the trees outside.

This current batch of hens (+1, which is a story for another time), I got when they were just wee little fluff balls, so they had some growing to do.

Now, I’ve had chickens before, but apparently, in my dog Pavlov’s mind, these new chickens needed to be oriented to the “ways of the Pavlov”, so he found it highly entertaining for awhile to make mad laps around the chicken coop when the chicks where in the run, and stir them up into a literal tizzy.

And the chickens, still being young and excitable, never failed to humor him and run around like chickens with their heads cut off and squwak.

(Thankfully this was relatively short lived, and Pav has now learned “no chickens”- again, and the chickens have learned to ignore him)

However, back when the tizzy’s were still a thing, I went out one night to put the “girls” to bed, and upon doing a quick head count, realized I was coming up one short.

I went inside to see if she had put herself to bed earlier, but no.

I walked around the entire coop and run, trying to see if she had found a hole and a way out, but there was no escape hatch.

Huh. Strange.

Where did the feather ball go?

I did have some wire laid across the top of the run, more to keep the neighborhood hawk and eagle OUT of the run than to keep the chickens IN, but the chicks were still young enough they weren’t really proficient flyers yet, so I didn’t think she could have gone up and over.

But after a little more investigating, I decided that she must have somehow flown out, because she certainly wasn’t still in.

I expanded the search into the woods a ways, but there was no sign of her, and it was getting dark.

I figured she’d either find a spot to roost for the night and show up in the morning, or the friendly neighborhood fox would take her home with him.

The next morning, I got up and headed out to the coop to see if the wayward chick had made her way back, but still nothing.

I did another loop in the woods and around, looking for any sign of her, but still no luck, so I figured the circle of life had swept her up.

For the next two days, I kept an eye out for her, and did a sweep every morning and evening, but still no chicken.

I need to pause here to paint a visual picture of my coop for you.

The garden shed I converted to my coop is a full size shed, probably 18 ft x12 ft or something close. It’s tall, with a little loft area over the coop section, and situated in the back corner of my lot. However, it is not situated on level ground. So whoever initially put this shed out there, attempted to make it as level as possible, by put it up on cement blocks at the corners.

Quite a few cement blocks.

This made it relatively “level”, but also left quite a crawl space under the building.

When I put up the run, we ran chicken wire all around the bottom of the building, to prevent the chickens from going out under the coop, and to prevent anything coming in.

Because I know chickens love to dig, on the side of the coop inside the run, I also put a piece of wood, probably 3ft wide up against the building, in front of the chicken wire, so they couldn’t get in there and dig under the wire.

Then the ramp to go up to their door was also going up over this piece of wood.

On day 3 of Operation Missing Chicken, I am on my way out to open the door and let the chickens out for the day, when I happen to look into the run, and notice something odd protruding from under the ramp.

I stop and look a little closer.

I can’t say for sure, but that kind of looks like a head?

I open the gate, go into the run, and sure enough. There’s a little chicken head poking out from under the piece of board up against the building, under the ramp.

My little missing chicken had somehow wedged herself up between that board and the wire, likely during one of the Pavlov tizzy runs, and had spent 3 days trying to work herself out. I can tell you, there was not a lot of room to work with.

She must have gone up head first, and it must have taken her all that time to turn herself around and stick her head out, hoping someone might finally see her and come to her rescue.

I helped her get out from under the board and back to solid ground.

The poor thing tried to stand upright, but promptly fell right over. (Imagine if your legs had been stuck in one position for 3 days and you tried to stand on them!) She also had some toes that were not in the shape or position they should be, which weren’t helping.

I was a little concerned about her ability to recover from this, but she was still with us for the moment, so I figured first priority was food and water, since she hadn’t had these for 3 days either.

I got the other chickens out in the run and then took her inside and got her some food and water in dishes she could reach sitting down, and she let me know she had definitely been missing both.

I hung out with her for awhile, trying to decide what she was going to need. She kept trying to walk, and kept falling over, but she did seem to be standing for a little longer each time.

I decided the best plan was to let her hang by herself, with plenty of water, and get some rest. Then we’d see where we went from there.

It took her a few days to get all her kinks worked out, and to unbend herself back into normal chicken form, but now she’s out there running around with the rest of them like nothing ever happened.

And hopefully she (and the rest) have learned their lesson about playing hide and seek with Pavlov.

Laundry Day: Now Featuring Music and Error Codes

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I have been in my new place for almost a year already! Time flies when the days are short and the air is cold!

When I purchased this place it came with a set of pretty old laundry appliances that I knew I was going to update at some point. We’re talking those ancient relics of washers where you actually had to load the laundry from the top, and your clothes were given a ride around a maypole to get clean.

About a month or so ago, the dryer stopped warming up on the regular cycle. For some reason, it would still dry clothes on the gentle cycle, so I have been managing to limp it through the winter. But then, about a week or so ago, the washer’s lid quit locking, which meant the wash cycle could never fully engage, and my clothes never got their maypole ride. If I slammed the lid just right, while crossing my eyes and holding my breath, I could possibly get it to latch, but I realized this was probably not a long term solution.

So it being almost spring, the time for all things fresh and new, I decided it might be a good time for a new laundry duo.

That, and the fact there was a sale.

So, I ordered my fancy new matching laundry set, with the front load doors and missing the now extinct maypole, set up install and waited.

My install was scheduled for yesterday, and for any of you that know me at all, you know it was not going to just be an easy, story free process.

The delivery team actually showed up on time (right at the start of their 4 hour window too!), and set right to work on getting my old machines out of the way and the new ones un-boxed and ready to take their place.

We were only about 5 min in when the first issue arose.

As the install tech went to shut off the water (there was an easy shut off valve right there at the hook ups), to disconnect my old washer, he pointed out that the valve seemed to be shot. It was not completely shutting off the water flow, and there was a slight leak when he went to disconnect the hoses. He mentioned I would need to get someone to come replace the valve.

Ok, fair enough. I’ll add it to my to-do list. In the meantime, I grabbed a towel to tuck around the hook-ups while he was making the switch to prevent the leak from making too much of a mess, and on we went.

They get the old machines out of the way, carry in the fancy new washer and start to get it into place. This is where the fun really started.

As he is positioning the washer, he tells me he has not hooked up any of the hoses, but he’ll leave them in the tub, so I can connect them after I have the valve replaced.

Not sure I was completely understanding what he was saying, I said “I’m sorry, what?”

He replied that since the valve was leaking (in the off position) he wasn’t able to hook up the new washer to the valve. It was against the “rules”. So thus, he had also decided he just wouldn’t hook up the hoses to the machine either.

So, just to be sure I am understanding this correctly.

You are going to leave the washer not hooked up and the valve off and leaking until I can get someone to replace the valve, instead of hooking up the new washer and turning the valve back on where it doesn’t leak?

Of course. Makes total sense to me. Might as well just turn my utility area into a swimming pool while we wait for a plumber. The dogs have been dying for a swim.

After some negotiation, we agree he will at least connect the hoses to the machine and leave them where I can easily reach them, so I can easily connect them “once the valve is replaced”.

He finishes everything else, cleans up all the packaging and they jump in the truck to take off.

And as soon as he is in the truck, I connect the washer hoses and turn on the valve, thus stopping the leak and preventing an un-planned for pool.

He had also explained that I had 48 hours to make any reports of issues with the install, and then after that I would have to deal with the manufacturer for any issues, so I decided I might as well run a load of laundry and make sure everything was functioning as expected.

The washing machine did it’s thing with no issues, despite the now non-leaking valve, and my clothes came out clean and wet, while the utility room stayed dry.

But now it was the dryer’s turn.

I load the clothes in, turn on the cycle, and watch the clothes start their tumble routine.

Before they have a chance to complete their whole routine, however, I am called back to the machine with the melodic sound of the “there’s an issue” tone. (It’s so nice that these fancy new machines play you music instead of those harsh old buzzers)

Flashing on the display are several lights and a “nP” error code.

Digging out the manual and searching the error code list, let me know that this code indicated an issue with the power source and the fact that the “power cord had not been connected correctly”.

Hmmmm…. Guess it’s a good thing I have that 48 hour window.

Of course it was too late to call by that point, so first thing this morning I am on the phone with the 800 number provided as the techs had made their exit.

An hour and multiple transfers later, during which I am told they can’t get anyone out for over a week to fix the problem, then being sent to LG to see if they can somehow fix the issue over the phone (I know, I was surprised these new “smart machines” could be smart enough to re-hook up their own power cords correctly, too ) and finally back to the installers who finally “make an exception” to get someone out here first thing Monday morning to see what they could do.

I’d like to say I’m hopeful that I will be back to a fully functional laundry set up by mid-day Monday, but I’ve learned to be ready for anything.

Maybe there will be a “to be continued….” added to this post.

It’s a Black & White Problem

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I know it’s been awhile. I haven’t traveled nearly as much as I used to the past couple years, so travel stories haven’t been as abundant.

However, I’ve realized even when life isn’t in the clouds, my Life On The Ledge still has things to share. Although the characters are different, the entertainment value is still strong.
So back by popular demand (or no demand at all) the all new view from my Life on the Ledge!

This story starts in the black of night.

Right before I’m headed off to bed, my trusty four footed companions decide to do their excited dance at the door. I figure the chances are about 90/10 that the dance is due to some uninvited visitor in the yard vs upset tummies that were going to wake me up in the middle of the night with the need to use the bathroom. I hesitate for a minute, but decide that despite the low odds, I really did not want to be woken up in the middle of the night, so I opened the door and let them out.

As soon as the door opened and they took off around the garage, I knew I played the wrong odds.

Sure enough, their run was soon accompanied by their “Oh, look! A new friend!” bark.

I gave it a minute or two, then called for them to come back in. Not only did they not appear, but I recognized their “Hey look! We want to show you what we found!” barks, so I grabbed my flashlight and decided to go look so we could all go to bed.

I came around the garage and the flashlight found the pups hanging out in front of the chicken coop.

Followed quickly by lighting the black and white fluffy friend running around inside the chicken run.

Luckily, when I gave a quick yell to the pups, they came running back to the house with me, and I decided our little skunk friend could show himself out.

Apparently, Pavi’s experience last year getting sprayed in the mouth by a skunk (Yes. Directly. In. The. Mouth) was enough for him to learn to leave the black and white kitties alone and he had avoided the spray.

Ember, however, had not had the chance to learn that lesson.

She seemed to only have gotten a glancing blow on her neck, though, which I quickly scrubbed with dish soap and vinegar before it could set in, and the smell remained quite mild, considering.

Bullet dodged.

So off to bed we go to a great night sleep.

Bright and early the next morning, we’re downstairs and ready to start the day.

Somehow, even before my coffee, my brain kicks in enough for me to think maybe I should just go double check that our guest had made his way back to his own home over night before I let the dogs out.

I was really glad I did, because sure enough, as the chicken coop comes into view, there is our Oreo colored friend, still running back and forth in the run.

Hmm. Why did he choose to stick around? Surely there are more exciting places to explore than my chicken run.

The chickens had dug a hole in the corner of the run, which I had covered with chicken wire to keep them from escaping, and I realize Oreo had pushed up under the wire from the outside to get in. But now that he was in, he was standing on the wire, so couldn’t burrow back under it to get out , so now he was trapped.

Which means now I have to get close enough to the coop to let him out.

My run has two sections to it, a larger one and a smaller one. Both sections have doors in them, and since Oreo is currently running back and forth in the smaller section, I decide my best bet is to open the door in the larger section.

So I very slowly make my way towards the door, keeping my eye on Oreo the whole way.

At first, he is too focused on his panicked pacing to notice me, but just as I get into range to touch the door, he stops and looks at me.

So I stop and look at him.

I figure as long as I’m seeing the two-eyed side of him, I’m safe. It’s the one-eyed side I need to avoid.

So I keep my eyes on him and slowly reach out and open the door.

Once I get it open, I quickly retreat around the corner of the barn, and watch from a safe distance.

But Oreo has just resumed his frantic pacing along the back stretch and seems unaware his path to freedom is behind him.

That’s fine. I’ll go inside, get some breakfast and coffee, and surely he’ll be gone by the time I’m done.

Except he isn’t.

I load the dogs into the car for our morning walk and go to check, and Oreo is still doing his military march on the back of the chicken run.

Now what?

I decide maybe I need to open the door that is closer to his pacing path.

And also about 3 ft from Oreo’s business end.

I find one of Pavi’s strategically placed, enormous sticks lying between me and the coop (Now I realize he wasn’t creating a mowing obstacle course, but a home defense system!), so I grab it and again slowly advance into the danger zone.

I use the stick to flip the latches on the door, but I can’t get the right angle to pull the door open with it, so I have no choice but to creep in and pull the door open.

But I make it! And now Oreo has a clear escape path just 3 ft behind him.

I take the dogs for our walk, and when we get back an hour later, this time I’m sure Oreo has moved on.

And yet again, I’m wrong.

Not only is Oreo still pacing the perimeter, one of the chickens, who had still been shut up in the inside coop, had somehow let herself out, and was now pacing around with our black and white friend.

2 doors standing wide open to the outside world, and both of them are just getting their steps in the cage.

Obviously time to regroup.

Oreo is now in the larger run area, but also under the inside coop. As far from the doors as it is possible to get. The chicken is hanging out by the open door, so I figure I need to shut the doors and figure out how to corral Matilda before I can continue trying to encourage Oreo to move on.

I decide if I can try to corral Matilda in the smaller area I might be able to grab her and remove her from the equation, so I go get some grain and throw it down in that area to lure her in.

Sure enough, she takes the bait.

But as soon as I open the little door to try to nab her, she squawks and runs the other way.

Straight at Oreo. And straight into his smelly shower.

Somehow, I still avoid becoming collateral damage, but now Matilda is not happy and squawking and flapping, and Oreo is even more agitated.

Perfect conditions to continue with Plan Rescue.

Matilda finally calms down enough to go back to the grain and I’m able to grab her.

So now I’m standing hugging a skunk stink chicken.

Somewhere along my quest of collecting useless trivia, I had remembered hearing that once a skunk sprays, they are unable to spray again until their supplies replenish, so I had googled that earlier in the morning to see if I might be able to use that to my advantage, knowing he had sprayed the dogs last night.

While it is true, they can actually spray 5-6 times before they deplete their supply.

So I do debate, for a minute, whether I should just throw the chicken at Oreo 4 more times to run him dry, but quickly decide I’m unlikely to come out of that plan unscathed.

I stuff Matilda back in the coop through the nest boxes and reach in and lock the door so none of the other girls get the bright idea of trying to join the party.

Then I swing the outside doors wide open again.

Meanwhile, Oreo continues his frantic marching.

Now what?

I grab what is left of my blackberries from the fridge and again venture back to the danger zone. I toss a handful of berries back towards Oreo and then strew the rest of them to the door and out.

There. Plan Hansel and Gretel is sure to work.

I head inside to give Oreo the room he needs.

An hour or so later, I again make my way out to the chicken coop. Only to see Oreo still running back and forth.

Really??

I had already tried a stick to attempt to prod Oreo towards the exit, but it wasn’t very effective through the wire of the run.

Which is how I find myself doing something I never thought I would be doing .

Throwing rocks at a skunk.

Oreo is still pacing as far away from the door as possible, so I start throwing rocks at the coop near Oreo to get him to move in the other direction.

And it works! Oreo runs to the other end of the run- right past the two open doors (and over all the blackberries) and resumes pacing on the other end.

Old Oreo is proving to be a formidable opponent.

Apparently Oreo is only going to go out the same way he came in.

Except now Oreo is pacing directly over the entry point.

So now I’m throwing rocks again to get Oreo back to the other end he just came from.

Once he is safely back at the far end- again- I move in, tug the wire out from the bottom of the run, prop up the corner with a piece of wood, and move in for the final volley.

Back to the other end of the run to throw rocks-again- to move Oreo back to his chance at freedom.

Finally!

Oreo gets back to open corner, slips back out under the coop, and disappears under the fence.

And I survived 3 hours of battle with a skunk without getting sprayed once.

Victory!

Hopefully chickens don’t have a strong sense of smell, because their coop was not so lucky.

How Pintrest Almost Killed My Father

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I think we all have to admit Pintrest is a genius invention. I don’t know who had the brilliant idea to translate the cork boards every kid in the 80s and 90s had on their bedroom walls, filled with completely random and quickly forgotten items that could easily be punctured with a push pin, to a digital experience, but I wish it had been me.

Admittedly, my Pintrest account closely resembles those jumbled cork boards, and honestly, I use it more as a Google alternative now, to see what others may have pinned, but my Mom is a Pintrest guru.

I really don’t know how many cork boards she has, or how well organized her Pintrest is, but I do know she is Pintrest level Master when she actually sends me pins that she thinks will fill that empty spot on my cork board perfectly. I don’t even know how to do that.

And when I happen to mention something like “ you know I was thinking I need to pull together my alien invasion survival kit”, my Mom will be quick to respond with “oh, you should check out Pintrest! They have lots of great ideas on there”

And they do, btw. My personal favorite is the “6 tips to survive Alien invasion- A Dame’s Handbook”

One board I’m pretty sure my Mom has though, is “Essential Life Hacks You Can’t Live without”.

She always has a new time saver/make life easier trick she is trying out- one of the most recent ones involving a toilet brush.

During a Pintrest session, my Mom came across a pin containing the nifty life hack of sticking the toilet brush under the toilet seat to let it dry over the toilet after using it. So of course she decided to try this out the next time she scrubbed the toilets, and left the toilet brush safely secured under the seat in my parent’s master bath.

She however, neglected to let my Dad know about this hack, or about the toilet brush drying itself over the toilet.

My Dad, waking up sometime in the middle of the night, and doing what we all do, stumbled to the bathroom in the dark, most likely with eyes only partially open to prevent waking up too much during the journey.

And he barely survived the heart attack he nearly suffered when he found himself being attacked by a porcupine in his own bathroom in the dark in the middle of the night.

Luckily, “death by Pintrest” will not be on my father’s tombstone- this time.

And I’m pretty sure he has set up auto alerts anytime something is added to my Mom’s Life Hacks cork board.

The Rare Land Shoe Shark

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This week has been a tough week. Not a horrible news, events that change your life kind of tough. But the nothing goes as planned, little fire drills everywhere, super busy but feeling like nothing got accomplished kind of tough.

So it seemed like a good Friday evening to spend at the beach.

The pups and I had been chasing sticks, splashing in the water and having a generally fabulous time for about 5 minutes or so, when we were joined by an older gentleman and his pup. I had met this guy a few times on our beach trips and always exchanged a few words, and then we both continued on our way, so I was hoping that’s what would happen this time. Not because I was especially anti social, but I had done enough talking to people for the week and really just wanted to throw sticks.

But he had other plans for the evening.

We started out just chit chatting about this and that, but soon he was sharing about all the time he had spent in the South Pacific, India and Asia back in the 80s. Ok, kind of a cool story and great adventure, so I was engaged. Pavi was slightly perturbed that my stick throwing was lagging somewhat with this interruption of conversation, but Ember was perfectly happy romping around with the new pup friend and annoying her brother.

And then suddenly the conversation shifted to aliens and UFOs and I found myself listening to his account of his up close and personal encounter with these beings while in Thailand.

I have to admit I was having a little trouble following the whole story, but I do know it entailed several people telling him he needed to put clothes back on, that he couldn’t be naked on he beach, him getting arrested while naked, aliens visiting him in jail and a gigantic white creature glowing with blue light appearing at the end of the pier

Apparently he made no connection between those events and the bag of whacky tobacky he had purchased from some random guy on the side of the road or the magic pills he apparently kept finding in his pocket and taking throughout this ordeal, but one has to wonder….

During this fascinating story, a group of 6, who I assumed was a family with older teen/ young adult children, had wandered down to the beach and were clustered just next to us. After a slight invitation from the daughter, my social Ember decided to act as the beach welcoming committee and pranced over to say hello to her new friends. They were delighted to meet her, and she ate up the attention. She even came back to grab a stick and returned to show them the quality of stick specimens our beach has to offer. Then it was back to romping with her brother and her new four legged friend.

My companion had wrapped up his alien story, but suddenly, as I just finish throwing a stick, he says “can I see your hand?” as he simultaneously grabs said hand.

Which is how I find myself getting my palm read on the beach.

While this is rather awkward, he seems harmless enough, if maybe a little lonely and maybe more than a little affected by the long term effects of whacky tobacky, so I decide to just let him stare at my palm lines for a minute or two and let him come up with whatever he thinks he sees.

Meanwhile, the family has decided to shed their footwear and go wading in the ocean.

If there is one thing my sweet little Ember cannot resist, it’s an abandoned shoe. More times than I can count, I have had to go in chase of a shoe, often into the yard with no shoes on. Even the split second they are left unattended while putting them on or taking them off, is too much for her to bear, and she feels the need to rescue the poor shoe from a life of abandonment.

And now there is a whole pile of unattended shoes just lying on the beach calling her name.

Just as I am about to find out about the 2 real loves of my life reflected in my palm, I see Ember streak past us straight into the pile of shoes.

Luckily, we’ve had lots of practice with “drop it!” and “bring it!”, so I was able to disengage my hand, while yelling these to her, and she dropped the shoe right on the water line before plunging into the ocean.

I returned the shoe to the pile while offering my apologies, but the family found the whole thing quite hilarious and were quite entertained by the whole ordeal. Just to be sure, Ember ran over to the dad, whose shoe I’m guessing it was, and offered a wet nose in his palm as an apology.

And now that family has a good story to write in their vacation blog.

And I will have to find another opportunity for a random beach palm reading to find out how long my lifeline is.