Thursday, March 24, 2016

He has a gift.

My grandson was born into a home that has 8 dogs.
My oldest daughter has 2, my middle daughter has 3 and I have 2.
Plus his other Grandmother has 5 more!
That is a total of 20 canine companions in his immediate family!
At the age of 2 he is friends with more dogs than humans. (So he's pretty much figured out how to get through life already-if you know what I mean.)
So he 'understands' dogs in more ways than most of us ever will.
The following pictures almost speak for themselves:



Alpha Jeplen and his Pack


Dozer the English Mastiff keeping close watch.


Dinner time!


Best Friends.

Aaawww.
Precious.

He can call the dogs in very mumbly but sincere toddler word names and they come to him.
He still takes naps with them.
He shares his food.
He once stopped 2 dogs that were playing way to barkingly, growlingly and roughly with each other by walking up to them with his hands out saying, "Nee No" (which is his way of forcefully using the word 'No') over and over, then put his tiny baby hands simultaneously on each of their faces and they both turned and walked away from each other.
This happened before he was 2.
Saw it with my own eyes.

The point of this post is that the boy has a gift.
He is a tiny Cesar Millan.
A sort of Mini-Millan, if you will.

So not only is he a master handler, he plays with them like a dog:



Adorable.

Then today my dogs were eating grass because the grass is finally growing enough to be eaten and we all know that every one needs a good Spring Barf...
So my grandson thought it would be wise to do the same:


Is the grass better here...


...or over here...

He's just trying to understand every aspect of a dogs life I guess.
I just hope we don't have to get him flea meds and a rabies tag!


Thanks for being here.

No animals or humans were harmed in the making this post.

Tuesday, March 22, 2016

Godzilla says "Happy Easter".

Some folks play with dolls.
Some play with toy soldiers.
Some build models or color to keep their mind in check.
This is what I do....



Godzilla Scares Up Some Easter Bunny Peeps.



Godzilla Chases the Easter Bunny Peeps Through the Easter Fields.



Godzilla Has Pushed the Easter Bunny Peeps Too Far and They Take Back Easter!


You're Welcome.

Happy Easter!!

Thank-you for being here.


Bonus Pics!!!!


Vintage Godzilla Eliminates the Easter Bunny.


Vintage Godzilla Stomps the Easter Bunny.


Vintage Godzilla Takes the Easter Bunny and the Easter Basket as Victory Swag.

The End.

Friday, March 11, 2016

Folk Tale Friday.


My grandfather was born in 1901.
Sorry to say that he has passed on, but he left some interesting DNA and some funny stories.
One of the stories he told was about living in Oregon with his family for a while when he was young.
(Now back in the early 1900's, all the way out in Oregon, my imagination went neanderthal thinking how primitive and rustic it must have been)
Plus the family lived a bit outside of whatever they called a town back then, so he and his 2 sisters had to walk back and forth to school a pretty good way.
Most days went smoothly, but he told a story of how, one day, he and the sisters were coming home from school and a very large bear came out of the woods.
The very large bear saw the young, tender, vulnerable children and that very large bear started to chase them.
My grandfather chuckled as he told this part of the story where the 3 of them had to run so very fast and so very far to escape that very large bear.
He explained with relief that the 3 of them eventually managed to make it home all safe and sound........phew.......only for his mother to give him a whipping for peeing in his school clothes!
He chuckled again.......
?
At the absurdity of it?
A nervous, near death memory chuckle?
I was wide eyed, dumbfounded and definitely not chuckling.
Where was the concern, the relief, the motherly affection?
Was she Team Bear?
Did they have no water for washing?
Did she hate pee?
That mother's every decision would have become suspect in my eyes...forever after that.
Sheesh.
Rough neighborhood.
Life was hard.




My grandfather (holding the baby) during less stressful times.


Thanks for being here.

Thursday, March 3, 2016

Throwback Thursday

In my family's many photo albums there are not many pictures of me.
That doesn't bother me a bit.
Usually I am the one taking the skillions of family photos because I just do not photograph well.
At all.
Even when I try to look un-psychotic or partially human like, good photos just don't happen with me.
Well one kinda did.
I liked the photo of when I broke my wrist.
It made me grin.


My best worst picture.

(I allowed the picture to be taken when my son and I had been in the 2nd emergency room of the day for like 6 very long hours and my son got totally bored and wanted all his friends to know that his mother was the reason for his absence and his lack of food stuffs since 12 hours ago and we both were so completely over the medical field due to it's non-use of time telling devices, but there was nowhere I could hide from the camera because the rooms are tiny and full of equipment and hiding in the room next to mine wasn't an option because it had an occupant that was guarded by the police so my son and I immediately assumed that there might be a shootout at any moment because the wounded criminal probably got tired of being in pain and was over the oppressive waiting while the law watched every move all three of us emergency room captives made so I couldn't go there, making my only tolerable option...to be in the photo.)

One actual point of this post is that if I see someone taking pictures of anything, anything at all, I skeedaddle away.

But point 2 of this post is that I came across a photo of my daughters and myself dated 6 years ago, that I have no idea what reasons had been given that I accepted as good reasons to pose for this photograph without doing any skeedaddling:


My worst worst picture.

So there it is.
Unphotogenicness laid out for the world to see.
My Throwback Thursday post.
Maybe it should be Throwout Thursday.

Thanks for being here.