warm and cinnamony, and ...

Mom made dessert tonight. It was an easy recipe from a Church cookbook her sister-in-law gave her. Crescent rolls, cream cheese, sugar, vanilla, butter, and cinnamon all layered together. It was well received by Dad and the Middle Lad, and Mom liked it too.

After dinner Mom put the still-warm dessert on the back of the stove and put several large objects in front of it as a barricade. Dad went upstairs to monitor bedtime for Youngest Brother. Mom went downstairs to work on some paperwork.

There Mulligan and I sat. Well, at least Mulligan sat. I jumped up on the kitchen counter, moved a few objects and proceeded to enjoy myself. That's where Dad caught me. With my snout buried in warm cinnamon-sugar goodness I was suddenly startled by a loud: "Boo!"

I scrambled but Dad caught my hind end just as I was sailing off the counter. He put me in the "slammer" where I was instructed to contemplate my sins.

Addendum: Not Fair! Mom and Dad let Mulligan finish off the little that I hadn't managed to scarf down! They said he deserved it because he was the "good dog" who didn't get on top of the counter!

Letter

Dear Mr., Mrs., and/or Ms. Williams-Sonoma,
Mom really likes your Commercial Quality Cake Pans. She prefers the non-coated variety. I like them too; they obviously aid in the production of a superior baked good.

However, I find that I have limited time when I am trying to consume a pan of fresh baked goods. Your pan has very straight sides and very neatly squared corners. I found that I was unable to lick every tasty morsel out of those corners. In fact, the evidence that I was the consumer of that pan of baked goodness was left glaringly obvious in those corners, as the more I licked the more the bits got stuck into the corners.

My suggestion is that you change the design of your product so that the corners are a bit more rounded. Then my tongue will be able to quickly remove all evidence and Mom will just think she has a clean pan to put away in the cabinet.

I will be happy to make myself available to you for testing the new, revised, product for the ease of food-release from the corners.

Sincerely,
Pennie

Removing threats

I don't want Older Brother to go to the Homecoming Dance with a human girl. I am all the girl he should ever need. To help this, I chewed a large hole in the sleeve of Older Brother's Sport Coat.

Bless-ed Dog

Yesterday the Oldest Lad packed me and Mulli up into the van to go retrieve Middle Lad from Junior Youth Group. Church is a very short drive from home so Oldest Lad did not deem it necessary to enclothe me in my driving harness -- a harness that attaches to the seat belt, rendering a dog stuck to the seat. The family calls them our "dog Car Seats."

Once at the Church, the Oldest Lad rolled down the window a mere few inches to allow ventilation (it was a cool evening.) He headed into the Church. As he was passing through the large double doors into the Building, guess who passed him up? I wiggled my 47 pound frame through those few inches of window space and managed to run fast enough to beat Oldest Lad into the Church. Then he had to chase me down, as I was bent on finding someone to give me a Blessing.

Guess I won't be allowed to ride in the car anymore without my Car Seat.

Flushing the Back Yard

It hasn't rained here in ages. What little rain there has been has scarcely done anything to alleviate the drought. The past few days Mom has been watering the back yard. Mainly the parts that, well, to put it delicately, the areas that Mulligan and I frequent the most. See the rain tends to rinse the ground. Mom is the main "scooper." Despite her hobbled condition, the piles were piling up and she hobbled out there and scooped, and continues to scoop as the amount of nagging required to get someone else to adequately take over as a temp is not worth it. Still, there was no "flushing" going on, which is what the rain tends to do. The yard was really starting to smell! Therein lies the usefulness of the Sprinklers as Mom has been sprinkling to "flush" for Mulligan and I since Mother Nature isn't bringing us any rain to do the job.

Can't keep me in!

Ha! The Oldest Lad laid a piece of wood over my self-constructed Doggie Door, ruining my easy access on and off the back porch. Last night Mulligan and I were incarcerated upon the back porch while the rest of the family ate their dinner. Mulligan sat quivering, while I Pennie set to the task.

In no time I had removed that ill-conceived attempt to thwart my doggie door and de-constructed the wood barrier and gained my freedom once more.

Unfortunately the automatic lawn sprinklers were on and my joy at my new found freedom quickly turned into dismay.

Darn those men! Not two hours later Dad and the Oldest Lad were nailing more wood up, building stronger than before. We'll see about that.

Quartz

Mom and Dad recently redid the kitchen, according to Mulligan. They agonized over the choice of countertop. They chose quartz because it requires little care and it very strong and easily sanitized.

Choosing the color pattern was the most difficult decision. Hours were spent analzyzing little blocks of sample quartz squares. Friends were consulted. The kitchen designer was consulted. Mulligan was consulted. This was pre-Pennie days.

In the end, they made a good choice, because I look quite stunning napping upon the kitchen countertop. The brown and black random pattern with hints of other colors looks smashing with my brown coat with black and white trim. It feels cool and refreshing to lay upon. Yes, quite a good choice.

Proof of Feline Evilness

Yes, in that great work of fiction: "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows," there is definitive proof of the pure evilness of cats.

The heroes of the story, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and Ron Weasley apparate into Hogsmeade. A CATERWAULING charm, yes, a CAT's charm, is what alerts the Death Eater's to their presence.

And I thought that cats were only evil to middle lad by causing him allergies, but here, there is proof that they are indeed on the side of the Darkness.

No more Doggie Door

The Oldest Lad, my favorite, has put an end to my Self-Created Doggie Door! The back porch of the house is screened in. Sliding doors lead out to it from the eating area. Then there is a screened door to gain access to the back yard. The first Canine Denizen, Samson the Beloved Wolfdog, upon his first few days in this house, at the ripe age of 12 and a half, felt that such a silly screen was unfit to serve as a barrier to his Great Wall of Dogness. He walked THROUGH the door. Dad fixed the situation by cutting and fitting a piece of Plexiglass to fit the hole. Eventually Dad rescreened the rest of the porch, excepting the door. He has had a new door on his "Honey-Do" list for, oh, going on 4 years. Yes, Mom is quite sure of it, as the rescreening was done the summer prior to the impending "year of the Cicadas." The Cicadas came in 2004.

The Plexiglass by now was quite brittle and I simply walked through it, although I would never compare myself to Samson. Unlike Mulligan, I have no need to constantly strive to be the CEO. Mom is not quite up to par getting around these days with her still hobbled foot, and didn't realize until yesterday that Dad left all the broken pieces of Plexiglass laying about, with some still broken attached to the door itself. Ever mindful of safety, she realized this was a "vet-trip" waiting to happen or perhaps a child could become injured.

Unfortunately, Oldest lad is quite adept at wood-working tools and he remedied the situation by locating a large enough piece of wood to attach to the place and that was it. No more Pennie Doggie Door.

Mom is warning me of the repercussions of walking through the main screened in part of the porch. She suggests that I do not try to create a "doggie-door" out of the main walls of the porch.

Used!

Tonight I was completed Used. Yes, my beloved Dad, the one who calls me his Princess totally USED me. The youngest brother still suffers from his intestinal ailment. He was laying on a blanket on the family room floor. Mom and Dad were watching a show about the search for the identity of a WWII U-Boat wreck in the North Sea. Suddenly, the lad began to roil about. He writhed, he reared up on his knees, and well, the inevitable then took place all over the very blankets the lad was laying upon. The lad was not even finished when I found myself leashed up, Mulligan leashed up, Dad shoed up, and we were out the door for a WALK. In the over three weeks I have been here Dad has: One, never been so enthusiastic to take me and Mulli for a walk, and Two, never been seen to move so quickly. It curiously also turned into quite a long walk; funny Mom had it all cleaned up by the time we all returned.