When phone calls go awry

It’s that time of year … when I get to watch as many chick flicks as I want and plan evening menus that are NOT based on the likes and dislikes of my pickiest eater: Hubs.

Gun season, baby. It rocks.

That’s not to say I don’t miss my spouse when he vanishes into the woods. I do.

And he misses me, as evidenced by his frequent phone calls during his visits to south Arkansas.

For Hubs, absence truly makes the heart grow fonder. Over the years, he’s left many a sweet message on my voice mail during his hunting expeditions.

When he returned last Thursday from hunting, however, he was indignant.

“I left you a message, and you never called back,” he said.

“There was no message,” I insisted.

A few days ago, when I wandered back to the newspaper’s photo department for a chat with Moody Mom, one of Hubs’ fellow photographers said everyone was enjoying Hubs’ hunting stories this year.

I’d already heard the one about the deodorant — (Hubs borrowed my very fragrant Secret, which he blames for scaring off a buck) — but not, apparently, the one about “The Phone Call.”

It seems that Hubs did indeed leave a loving message for me on voice mail. But it wasn’t my voice mail.

Meet Staton.

You can imagine Staton’s surprise when he listened to a message in which Hubs declared his undying love.

Staton also is a photographer at the newspaper. So he shared the message with the entire photo department, who found it quite hilarious.

One has to wonder if Hubs will ever feel comfortable leaving messages again.

More stories from the deer woods tomorrow!




A not entirely successful granchild portrait session

This year, my mother set her hopes on getting a photograph of her, my dad and their four grandchildren.

Not an easy task, it turns out, when the only cooperative boy grandchild turns out to be … the baby.

Everyone, including Baby Logan, is smiling pleasantly. But Cousin Kirin closed his eyes. And the E-man is ... grimacing.

The E-man continues to grimace. Kirin is offering a sarcastic grin.

Sigh. At least the baby's having fun.

Baby Logan has been very patient thus far, but his boy cousins' refusal to cooperate is starting to get to the little guy. Poor Tootie continues to smile sweetly, unaware of her cousin and brother's antics.

Are we done yet?

Baby Logan, realizing the perfect photo displaying his cuteness is unattainable, wants down. Tootie's smile has become a bit strained.

Where'd everybody go?


Double trouble

Once upon a time, a family decided the time was right to get a new puppy.

(Their beloved Molly had died at age 15 1/2.)

Molly was an Australian shepherd.  So after her passing, the family decided they simply had to have another Aussie.

Enter this little fluffball:

Aww ... so peaceful and adorable. For now ...

Aussies are known for making puppyhood a hell-raising affair. Let’s just say that while Molly evolved into a most respectable dog, she was a holy terror in her younger days. One of my friends nicknamed her Satan after Molly very nearly devastated her home.

Anyway, it didn’t take Miss Daisy too long to embark upon her reign of destruction. There was, for example, the day she decided that a plain, white kitchen floor is boring and commenced with “painting” an abstract design.

She used a bag of charcoal as her medium.

Daisy turned one. Then 18 months. And, as Aussies do, she abandoned her puppy bad-girl days and became, well, if not exactly sedate, a little less prone to chewing. She still, however, inspects the kitchen counter closely when inside, a habit that requires her humans to make sure nothing can be snagged by grasping paws.

Last June, just as the family started discussing the possibility of getting a second dog, they heard the sad tale of a rescue Aussie who needed a home.

I ask, how could one resist this guy?

What a precious, wittle doggums.

We estimated him to be, oh, maybe a year old.

Turns out our new boy was only 7 or 8 months — at most.

At first, however, he showed no signs of Aussie puppyhood.

Until a recent evening, when Bandit decided to investigate the over-loaded tote bag in which I store all of my Girl Scout art supplies and projects.

Thankfully, he did not eat the “passports” lovingly constructed by the girls several weeks ago. (We are “visiting” different countries at our meetings.)

Instead, Bandit found the packages of colored sand and, after ripping several bags open, spread said sand all over the dining room floor. I have to admit — he formed a most interesting and colorful pattern. (But what do my dogs have against our flooring?)

Anyway, while I didn’t enjoy sweeping up all that sand, at least I didn’t have to tell the girls that my dog ate their artwork.

Our budding artists. Please ignore the dirty glass. Haven't bothered cleaning it lately, since the dogs will immediately mark it up again with their noses and drool.

And in other news … Little Rock Mamas has two tickets to this year’s Sugar Plum Ball. Want to enter your name in our drawing? Just go here and “like” our Facebook page!