The fire alarms went off yesterday evening. I walked down fifteen flights of stairs with the dog to stand on the street for 90 minutes. Actually I was ailing and she was slipping so a kind young man carried her half the way down the metal stairs. Thank you!
My legs were like rubber bands and I had to lean on a planter as I could not stand. I had to wait another hour for an elevator, but the fire department let us in so we could sit and wait for the elevators to be turned back on.
It was a dog party out there! I brought back another one, just for the weekend. She’s been with us before and they are both sleeping soundly in our bedroom. Actually mine just came out to her other bed in the living room. They’re like really friendly sisters. Go figure, my old Aussie mutt and a young American Silken Windhound (Whippet and Borzoi). They’re very sweet together and believe they enjoy having company.
The third sleeper is not with us but across the land with a bad head cold. He may make it to work today, may not and perhaps will stay the weekend. With the time difference I can’t call for a few hours. He is a sleeper, and a snorer, my husband.
In a couple of hours I’ll take out the girls (dogs) and feed them. Let’s hope I can take the elevator this time! Yesterday before the fire alarms I took Zoe out and she ran after her new boy toy, a Bernese Mountain Dog, the Swiss cart-pullers. I have to teach her something about restraint when it comes to men! But they only flirt, OK.
My parents never overtly taught me but one could tell when Dad moved down his bifocals to stare at a potential boyfriend with his intense baby blues, he scared every boy with whom I ever went to a movie. Except my husband of over 15 years, of course. We were older, then. He opened my car door, took my hand and never let go. Yes. We saw a movie and went out for Mexican food.
I usually have two sleepers, one who constantly snores, and one I have to check on regularly because of a “neural episode” I wrongly called a seizure last week. In REM sleep she chases squirrels, it’s funny to see. Cheers! Dee
Cooking with Dee 