Maxi Got His First Clue From The Opened Window.

 ...and I had to have opened it!

Who knows at just after three in the morning what the weather might bring? Especially with our triple glazed glass windows. But open the window I did wanting to contact the new day only to be surprised by the hard sound of rain falling.

Yes, the rain had sneaked up on us during the night-yes, we desperately need it-but when one has a dog who despises rain, it wasn't a good start to the day.

Mr Maxi had vetoed a final walk last night which meant that by the time I had opened the window he had gone without a loo break for over twelve hours. Don't blame us, we valiantly tried everything to entice him for his final pee-pee break, but alas, he didn't budge an inch! Stubborn little man! So, by the time our alarm clock went I was quick in getting up and putting on proper clothes in order to take Maxi outside for his long overdue toilet break.

One would think that his bladder was bursting, wouldn't one? The moment I opened the window and heard the rain, I realized my mistake as the mister might be blind in one eye but can hear a pin drop across the room. He wouldn't budge an inch. For over an hour I tried to take him outside to no avail. You might think I should just leave him be; but don't forget most of our house has wooden floor boards and any liquid, god forbid pee-pee, seeps into the cracks rather quickly.

Eventually after an hour he deigned to be taken outside and even that, reluctantly. Thankfully he used the ablutions and at least that worry was off my mind, but he wouldn't go any further than twenty meters. No way, not in a million years. As small as he is, he has a will of steel and consistency. Can't help but admire him!

What can one do but to learn from today's affair...check the weather before opening the window within earshot of the little scamp. Who said that life with a dog was boring....?

Biggi

The Cleverness Of A Little Maltese.

 Sharp as a whistle, stubborn as a donkey.

What now, you might wonder! Well, the weather gods have been and are being good to us by dumping oodles of rain upon us. We so desperately need rain. The ground is so dry it reminds one of a desert. Awful but hopefully now not anymore.

The only person who doesn't like the rain is our little prince, Maxi. During the morning I had to take him out for a pippi break and gosh darn it, he noticed the wet ground! Leg down and in he ran. Ran to his little bed under the television. His safe haven, his castle, his home. And there he has been whiling the time away.

Usually at about two o'clock he comes to see where I am in order to let me know that a bathroom break is high time. His major bathroom break, his long walk around the block and of course nature. Today, no surprise, he has been lying in his little bed looking everywhere but at me. Hiding away. Two hours longer than usual.

Once he got out to shoot the breeze with Bob ( he has a rain day-off ) until he heard me coming around the corner from the kitchen...his little legs couldn't carry him fast enough back to his haven. He just does not like the rain. He likes snow, but not rain.

Never mind, I have found a way to outsmart him. From experience I am well aware that taking a donkey for a walk would be child's play compared to him. A distance of 50 meters entails me pulling the leash whilst cajoling him, and he putting down all four of his feet. No budging him even an inch.

The only way he will brave the rain is if the matter is a matter of urgency. So with cunning I have waited those extra two hours until he came to get me. Suddenly his ablutions can be made quickly and succinctly and even mere meters from our gate. What a clown! What a sweetie!

The next few days will mean a break for me from walking him his daily three kilometres, and you know what, everyone is entitled to some laziness and eccentricity.

Biggi

Hoovering, At Pets' Displeasure.

A united front.

Isn't it funny how one little move sets them off? For Mausi it is the point when I lift the carpet runners off the floor in preparation for a hoover. From the deepest of sleeps she awakens and dashes to safety from the big bad hoover wielded by her mum.

Since the boy has moved in it transpires that he too, is far from fond of it. How does he know? Well he can hear it but see it he can't. The moment I push the on button his little head lifts up and within moments he does a dash to another room. Anywhere but here! Too funny.

The irony is that I don't like the hoover either. Not because of it looking and sounding nefarious but more mundanely due to it translating to a bit of housework. Hoovering followed by mopping the floor. Of course once the two of them are aware that the hoover has gone back to its hiding place ( behind the bedroom door ) they get very excited by the cloth being pushed forward and backward on the floor. A new game?

Maxi only has one functioning eye and at times, especially during the hoover-affair, it tends to turn into a beady eye watching my every move. Gosh at times I wonder if I should even go close to him...but no, he is as good as gold, only a bit afraid of the machine.

So, in order not to upset our animals too much I tend to limit my hoover excursion to a minimum! Oh, what parental sacrifices one does...

Biggi 

Those Darn Forgotten Corners!

A tradesman comes to visit.

Those of you who know me, also know that any sight, mention or sniff of a tradesman coming by gets me to turbo clean the house. Well, that is the areas that said tradesman might be busy in.

Unexpectedly the oven had to be seen to and a service man came by this morning. The oven, the lounge, the bathroom and the kitchen got a quick once over and for good measure I had the curtains closed because too much daylight tends to shine a light upon forgotten cleaning projects. Yes, just being honest.

So, a fairly youngish chap came around and to be honest yet again, most people are young to me lately. Sign of the times. But he worked extremely precise and took his time. Good and I was silently congratulation myself on providing a clean home front when towards the end of the oven's service he needed a place to connect a water hose. More water had to be pumped into the oven system and just like that, my clean front crumbled.

First I showed him the kitchen tap but that wouldn't do and he bent down to peruse the piping under the sink. Goodness me whoever thinks of cleaning there! Eh, not me and I did feel the beginning of housewifely shame. But that tap wasn't up to the task either so then I showed him our bathroom sink, a sink I had freshly cleaned. Little did I know that connecting a hose meant dusty corners.

Yes, quick as a flash he honed in onto the tap in the far corner, the one used for the washing machine's water supply. A place I hadn't factored into my cleaning and a place that frankly I tend to overlook on a continuous basis. Clearly and apparently so. Hats off to the young man because he didn't raise an eyebrow and carried on with his task. The moment he headed to the lounge I was crouching behind the washing machine cleaning like mad.

When he finished topping up the water he took the end of the hose from the bathroom side off and laid it onto the shower floor. Wanting to help him, I picked up the hose and let the water drip out. Big mistake as he told me that this had caused all the water to flow out on the other side. Onto the floor. Oh no. What next. Off I dashed with cloth in hand, cringing at the dust balls unearthed by the water. Serves me right.

Well, the only upside to this day was the fact that the oven has had a service and will heat our house for the foreseeable future and that long forgotten corners of our house have gotten a once over....

Biggi

If Only Dogs Could Talk!

 The vagaries of communication.

The other morning Maxi had a slight oopsie. Well, it started very early after I had just woken up. His little footsteps shifted my awareness away from dream world to him. Gosh, I was so thrilled that for once he liked me enough to jump out of his basket and come to greet me. He usually does it for Bob! Yes, a slight bit of jealousy.

So, I did the usual coochy coo and went through to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. All of a sudden my peripheral took note of a dripping sound. Yikes, quick as a flash I raced through to the lounge and there the poor dear was, weeing on the floor in desperation. Bob was looking on, not quite sure how to handle it apart from telling me the obvious. Men. Anyway, I quickly grabbed some paper towels to sort out the worst while whipping up a confused dog and taking him outside in case more was to follow. And no, I didn't shout at him nor was I cross because after all it was my mistake at not listening to him. There I thought he wanted to have a cuddle when he actually asked to be taken outside!

Since that day I have acquired a habit of jumping up at the mere sound of his footfall. Even if he just wants to get some water. Yikes, I think I have taken him outside more than ever for him to do his stuff.

So this morning he came out of his basket once we were up, and went to Bob for a quick cuddle and then headed through to the entrance hall ( also where we keep his food bowl ) which spurned me on to get my coat and shoes.  I took his leash and harness off the shelve as per usual while telling him that it was time to go and peepee. Well, the minute he heard me lift the harness he turned around and sprinted back to the comforting safety of his basket. In fact, his little back legs almost overtook his front ones in his haste of evading a walk in a very cold pre-dawn.

Too cute and funny for words. He actually lay still as a mouse in his basket until he deemed it necessary for him to be taken outside. All eye contact was avoided, which makes me wonder whether he looks upon me as this mad woman who tends to drag him outside for long walks.... 

Life with pets, never boring, always wonderful and full of fun moments.

Biggi

Co-Driver, Moana Lisa Or Just Plain Harpy?

 The joy of spousal driving.

It seems to run in my family and dare I say it, in most families. Driving with one's spouse tends to incorporate aspects of hilarity bordering on insanity.

Who hasn't had a spouse sit next to them whilst driving? Never mind how old we might be, in the eyes of our loved ones we are mere beginners, ink still drying on our licences. Never mind how long we have successfully navigated the roads of life and car without mishap. No, none of that counts. We need to be reminded of what we might not be aware of;

             " You are too close to the side of the road. "

              " The traffic light is going to change. "

               "  You are driving way too fast. "

               " Can you see that car on the horizon? "

Oh the list is endless. The other day I had the opportunity to be taxied about by my parents and couldn't help but overhear similar comments flying from co-driver to driver. Goodness, scales fell from my eyes because I realized that I was exactly the same. Yes, the comments I at times eh, mumble quietly to Bob were almost identical to those I heard while being driven by my folks. Nature or nurture begs the question.

On the other hand, isn't it up to us to make sure no speeding fines are collected? Why would there be a 50 sign or more importantly, why should it be adhered to? I find myself as the needle being stuck on the album of co-drivers;

                 " Slow, slow, can't you see there is the 50 sign? "

Oh yes, I am a harpy of note when it comes to road signs but then again, getting a speeding fine isn't that great either...

Biggi

Our Dog, The Con-Artist!

 Who said that dogs aren't clever?

Oh yes, the weather has changed and the suddenly dreaded rain has appeared. Dreaded only because of our dog and his antics.

How he knew this morning that the rain had arrived, god only knows or perhaps our Mausi subconsciously told him. Fact is that contrary to any other morning, he refused to budge even an inch from his basket. Normally at about half past five in the morning he needs to go outside to relief himself. Without fail, every morning apart from today's.

He clung on to his basket for dear life and more than likely crossed his legs in order to not have to go outside. Eventually, at about half past seven ( two hours overdue no less ) I softly upturned his basket to get him up. Bob was cheering from the sidelines and telling me to watch my fingers, just in case! Well, fingers were safe and dog standing up. Even that didn't do the trick. No, I had to fetch his leash and collar, put it on and then carry him outside!

The rain had thankfully petered out to a few drops now and again but the ground was wet. Very wet, which Maxi realized straightaway. There he was tippi toeing on the wet grass, hardly moving an inch while I had to fight off the amorous attentions of our feral cat, still keeping an eye out for Maxi's ablution positions. After about a minute he did a #1, a long one and wanted to go back inside. 

No, no, he had to do his #2. Can't have him using our lounge! Honestly, I had to literally beg and cajole him in order to get him to walk two meters along. From experience I know that this will do the trick of making him go to the loo. If only you could have seen him. There he was lifting his legs like a well trained ballerina, trying to evade wet grass. Meanwhile our feral is trying to make sense of this while at the same time rubbing against my shins, showing me that he doesn't mind being out in the rain.

After a long five minutes Maxi had done his morning's ablutions and not wanting to pick a fight with him, I let him off the rest of his walk. Slowly, with his head hanging in sadness and despair at having to even be outside, he tootled back into the house. Much pulling and many choice words from my side, but eventually he was in.

Well, within seconds of me taking off his leash, he bucked in glee and ran into the lounge, doing cartwheels in anticipation for the next stage of his day, breakfast. Bob couldn't believe how energetic Maxi suddenly was, literally dancing and hopping about following me to the back room all the while yapping his happiness vocally. What a conman. From pretending to be an old and decrepit dog to suddenly hopping about like the energetic pup he is. All because of a few drops of water...

By the by, as I write this he is busy pretending to be asleep and not in need of the loo. Let's see how long he can hold it in but I suspect that the lure of his afternoon treats ( only after a long vigorous walk ) might change his stance.

Biggi

A Pesky Lot Of Flies Move In.

 How dare they....?

It is summer after all. Fly season. The other day I noticed the annoying buzz of a fly doing its best to irritate me. Yes, buzz buzz buzz around my head and always fast enough to escape any ad hoc movement of arms. One day...

Suddenly they have prospered and multiplied increasing the feeling of irritation in most of our household. Bob has taken to swinging the fly swatter around and in fact falls asleep with it on his lap during tv viewing. When he hasn't got the swatter at hand he hollers for me to quickly get it because if he were to get up, the fly would move. Nice one, as if it wouldn't move regardless!

Mausi of course thinks that this is the best thing ever. Her own little entertainment troupe brought in for her by mummy and daddy. She can sit for hours staring at a fly while now and again muttering some hart felt cat truth about what might happen to it if it were to be caught by her. Threatening fighting talk for sure. So far I have yet to see her catching any flies and it wouldn't surprise me if the act of stalking them is more fun than devouring them. As long as it isn't a bee.

Maxi couldn't be bothered apart from when they land on him. These flies should be careful as I can very well imagine Maxi doing a Karate Kid imitation. One snap and fly gone!

Yesterday it made me feel better when the neighbour down the road was lamenting about the fly plague they have in their house and yard. Shoo, not just us. Having a pond across the road can't be of help and our one line of defense, the birds, are so prop full of yummy avian cordon blue provided by us twice a day, that they couldn't be bothered with a vile tasting fly. Things might have to change little buddies. Start paying your dues and catch these flies before they enter our house.

Rural bliss comes with annoying extras because how else would we appreciate the lovely peaceful calmness unless we feel the buzzing assault of a couple of flies...

Biggi

The Comic Features Of Taking The Dog Out Very Early.

 Practically before sunup.

Not that I am crazy or something, but at the moment we start the day extremely early so that Bob can get to work early enough to avoid the heat during his shift....and we are about to start even earlier so that bods well for Max and my early morning adventures.

We have a routine. As he can't see well at all, I clap my hands to notify him that finally I am ready to take him for a long walk. The walk to do his major business, which I am learning to read the signs of its imminent arrival! Mornings, despite what time they start, are usually hectic trying to get everything prepared and ready before taking him outside.

Once outside he runs like mad with sheer joy of being outside in the coolness of an early morning. Funnily enough, when I take him out in the afternoon his joy is tempered and often the walk just lends itself to concluding any pressing business before he wants to go back inside for a nice relaxing time in his basket.

But this morning was comical to say the least. About 200 meters into our walk as he slowed down to sniff another dog's business card, I couldn't help but notice the adjacent house's window being open. The open window showed a flickering reflection of early morning  tv viewing. Seen it before but not with the sound of espresso being made.

Gosh, there was a recurring noise that sounded like the grinding of coffee beans but slightly louder and at on and off intervals. Goodness, what on earth? Well, when I worked out what that sound was I nearly burst out in loud laughter...someone was snoring like a trooper. Either husband or wife but, regardless, I am glad not to live next to them because that noise carried for a few meters.

Perhaps, as both of us also have an affliction to do with snoring ( or so Bob says!!! ) we should keep our windows closed just in case someone takes an early morning walk and might think it was me...

Biggi

The Sweet Revenge Of An Early Start In The Garden.

Ah, the good life.

Our hedge was put on top of the to-do list today. Mostly to give those mad dashers a better line of sight. The road behind our house and where this hedge resides, often resembles a speedway and lately for good measure a lot of heavy vehicles ( tractors, big lorries etc ) have joined in. That this road is a narrow winding one with an almost blind curve doesn't seem to bother anyone.

At least I make sure that the line of sight is a bit less obscured by keeping that part of the hedge nice and short. A few of the big lorries ( those that feed a constant supply of building materials for the house being build down the road ) have already clipped this hedge in their haste to get to where they have to go. At times I feel like putting a traffic calming device over this road...

Anyway, the various building projects in our road have meant a steady and constant supply of loud noise. Late into the evening at times. Nothing like hearing hammering and shouting when you are trying to fall asleep! But, every dog has its day and also every neighbour.

Bob has fantasies of revving the brush-cutter  on a Sunday morning, which of course will stay just a fantasy, but I had the pleasure of serving a dish of revenge early this morning. Yes, as luck would have it I was at my battle station at six along with our squeaky wheelbarrow and secateurs that most definitively need to be oiled.

It wasn't my intention to make a noise but each loud snip, followed by the harsh sound of raking up cuttings on a road made a correction in the rather lopsided balance sheet of neighbourly transgressions.

Did I put more oomph into each snap? Yes to start with, but after a few minutes I realized that I couldn't keep up this pace and finish what I still had to do.

The sad irony of my little neighbourly rebellion was that I don't think anyone heard or was bothered by it if they did. At least it made me feel a bit better even though one shouldn't give in to one's baser instincts...

Biggi

A Saturday Morning Excursion To A Bakery.

 A surprising in our choice.

We were on the road to Bob's work earlier on because we had to fetch his work chariot. Thankfully it has had a three week rest but now, back to the grindstone. Cunningly I had put the idea of  fresh Bretzen into my Schatzi's mind the night before.

            " You know, tomorrow morning we might as well stop at that bakery on they way to your work. Support locals etc! "

Didn't take much more persuasion than that. Before I could even remind him this morning, he had already slowed down to look for parking. Goody, nothing nicer than something freshly baked on a Saturday morning.

One young man was  outside the shop ( corona manners ) and waited for someone to leave the shop before entering. When my turn came ( I am always the chosen one to enter shops! ) I stepped in with the anticipation of having to chose between yummy offerings. The aromas were grande and when my turn came, I was ready with my choices.

As I had seen the shop assistant take the previous guy's money with her hands, I hastened to ask her to please put on gloves before picking my things. Long experience has taught me that bare fingers are the favoured form of equipment, although it often is a case of  take it or leave it.

Except that corona has given me some ammunition to argue, which I had to do when she gave me the hairy eyeball and crossly picked up a pair of pincers.

           

         "  Sorry, but you did just pick up that chap's money. Corona, you know! "

Anyway, I chose, she picked, I paid and off I went. Not sure she would like to see me again soon though and luckily I don't live anywhere near there! Once in the  car, I told Bob of what had transpired inside and with the happy thought and knowledge that each bread roll creation ( they  are great ) had a pristine hygiene background, we headed off.

About an hour later, back home, we had our little snack laden with oddles of fresh vegan butter 

( the Danish one ) and they tasted fantastic. I finished mine without leaving more than a breadcrumb but Bob of course had a special time of it;

        " Eeuh, there is a hair baked into my bread roll !!!!!! "

thankfully that offending hair was not my colour nor length so that I was off the hook. Although, Bob being quick off the mark, hit the nail on the head;

          " Seems that the shop assistant has had the last laugh after all. " 

Biggi

The Occasion Of The Chimney Sweep.

 An opportunity in irrational & idiotic cleaning behaviour.

You'd think the queen was coming for a visit. Floors scrubbed, covers neatened, kitchen cleaned, bathroom too and cat told to be on best behaviour. All morning I have been attending to domestic chores above and beyond, and all to ensure our chimney sweep doesn't think badly of my domestic abilities.

How stupid and how predictable. All for a chap who only pops in three times a year and never more than for five minutes or so. Honestly, I wouldn't even recognize him if I were to pass him in town. But, the royal carpet was rolled out. By the by, he isn't the only one after of course the family, plumber and electrician.

Is it nature or nurture? The inevitable " Gosh, what might the neighbours think!  " is more of a learned behaviour and many a time during my youth I had occasion to see my mum go into domestic overdrive for those arbitrary visitors.

Only yesterday when our postman dropped off a parcel at our door I hastened to apologize for our muddy driveway. As if I had done it on purpose! He laughed and said:

                     " Oh don't worry, everyone's driveway is muddy as hell. Mine at home too! "

Goes to show that for the postmen, chimney sweeps, electricians and plumbers of the world the view of domestic abilities is seen through a different prism and more importantly, not noticed or judged the way we women tend to imagine.

The irony of today's domestic exercise was that once he arrived and had done his sweeping of the chimney in the attic, he never even set foot inside our house. All my cleaning extravaganza for nothing...When will I learn?

Biggi

The Spookiness Of Facebook.

 Can it pick up my thoughts too?

How on earth do they do that, is what I would like to know? A few months ago both Bob and I ( as well as my folks ) splashed out on the wonderous invention of socks that rebalance one's body. No more tiredness or bad posture once these socks or on one's feet. Yes, you might think we fell for a fair bit of advertising but surprisingly enough, these socks work.

As they are extremely pricey we each only have one pair and treasure those like crazy. Apparently they have an inbuilt smell disperser and thus they don't need to be washed daily...ahem... I try and stretch it to at least three walks ( they are my walking companions ) before washing them as I don't want to undo the elaborate network of fine copper threads that encompass the said magic. Call me a fool, call me whatever but I know they work.

This morning when I returned from my walk I noticed to my dismay that a small hole has appeared around the toe seam. Drat, and I haven't got needle and thread at home! 

Well, it slipped my mind until a moment ago when I clicked onto my Facebook page. 

There it was, a big advert offering a ten euro discount upon  purchase of two pairs of our magic socks   ( Neurosocks ). How do they know. I haven't seen this advert for literally months until today when I noticed a hole in my sock. Spooky indeed.

Facebook, could it be the spy in our midst? The best remedy would be to disconnect totally but they do make it so attractive to play a game here, catch up on a friend there and while the time away. Soon another social media detox is needed, but not just yet...

Biggi

For The Love Of Red Cabbage.

A new favourite is added.

What can I do when I love reading and listening about and to the latest health discoveries to do with  our whole food plant based life. So many books, so little time.

Red cabbage is one of those miracle vegetables that are amazingly full of antioxidants and also full of fiber ( nowadays the fiber is on par with antioxidants for health, and thankfully it only exists in plants and thus the proverbial two birds with one stone. ) Red cabbage should be added to every meal either as a side garnish or a main part of it. I love basing a salad around it and the beautiful purple colour it gives off.

But how to get Bob to eat it for lunch? Pretty sure that he wouldn't be happy with a plain red cabbage salad or would he? So, a few days ago I hatched a plan to sneakily add this super food into his lunch. As the lunch of the day are sandwiches ( easier to eat quickly ) I decided to chop up a bit of raw red cabbage with a red onion in order to add it to the sandwiches the base of which was an aubergine sandwich spread.(  One of the sandwiches is always a peanut butter and jam affair for extra energy! )

Lunches get made at about five each morning and when I knew Bob was in the shower I hauled out the cabbage and started to chop it up fine. Blended perfectly into the red onion and after I had  surreptitiously cleaned up the evidence, by the time he came through to the kitchen he only saw me adding ' chopped onions ' to his sandwich.

At times sandwiches come back uneaten which in itself answers the question if Bob liked them and I worried that the same fate would befall this ultra healthy new lunch combo. I had to wait until 10 pm to find out. When Bob came home I got hold of his lunch bag and noticed straight away that it was empty. The all important question of what it tasted like and if he even noticed I left until that next morning.

" Schatzi, did you like the sandwiches from yesterday? "

" You mean the ones with the cabbage? Loved them. Reminded me of coleslaw. Could you make them again for today? "

Gosh, firstly no fooling Bob and secondly, how great that he also loved the red cabbage because now at least I can add another layer of health to his lunch. Should have asked him all along about the cabbage as it would have saved me a lot of cloak and dagger sandwich making, but  you know, that is just part and parcel of a fun marriage...raise your hand those of you who haven't employed a bit of cloak & dagger, bait and switch or the pleading of ignorance at some point in your relationship...! 

Biggi

 

There's Nothing Like Cutting Your Husband's Hair...

 ...until you cut it badly!

This has been the third time that I have attempted to cut Bob's hair. Today I even got advice from Albert ( best hairdresser there ever was ) of how to use the different clipper attachments.

Well, I obviously didn't listen well enough or too well. Suffice to say that Bob's hair is shorter than normal and to make matters worse unevenly so. But that is why they pay hairdressers so well; how to fix those shorter pieces without making the whole problem go on a loop. 

Bob is not new to the world of hairdressing and with lazer-like precision he honed in on where I made a mess. One side is shorter than the other and according to him because I had used a different attachment. Could be true, but what can one do?

This slightly less than aspicious haircut happened less than ten minutes ago and thus far he has been to show me a ' supposedly ' shorter part twice and I wouldn't be surprised if he will point out the error of my clipper skills a few more times.   Obviously I am not going down that road but rather pointing out the good sides instead!  Thankfully hair grows but when I mentioned to Mausi that Daddy was in a mood over my haircut, he replied;

 

" Wait until I cut your hair  different kinds of short! " ....

oh dear, best I sleep with one eye open for the next few days or until someone compliments him on a spiffy haircut...

Biggi 

An Assault On The Senses.

The least of the midlife-crisis splurges.

Saturday, shopping day. Bob came with me to town this morning and not only to do groceries. As you know we have a well oiled routine and seamlessly flit between the various shops where we can get our staples. A drug store being the first on the list.

DM-Drogerie Markt has a lot of vegan staples from oats via flaxseed to peanut butter as well as all those essentials to keep us youthful. As I was hovering along the skincare aisle, Bob was off to explore the back aisle, a.k.a. the smelly lane. Yes, the perfume area which is filled to the rafters. How many smells can there be?

I was reading a label when I heard my husband call my name. Isn't it funny how attuned we are to our other halves? Even if they were to whisper our name we'd hear it. As I looked up I saw him walking towards me with both wrists held up in front of him;

" Boo, which smell do you prefer? "

after which he held up each wrist for me to smell. Not that I smelt anything through the thick mask I was wearing and I wasn't about to take it off in the middle of a possible corona hotspot. One arm smelled more potent than the other and I nodded to it;

" The left one. "

It was just a try out and not a buy although when we were back in the car Bob made me take another whiff of his wrists sans mask. Yikes, how much had my husband spritzed on? Both were so potent that when I was shopping at the next shop I could smell the scent clinging to me and as it was a macho cologone it garnered me a few odd looks from some of the men I was passing in the shop.

On the way home I was asking Bob where he would even have the opportunity to wear it...can't wear it to work and we don't go out often especially now due to corona. All my reasoning bore no fruit as Bob has made up his mind to get it next time we are in town. No if, when or buts.

Jolly good. I know the onset of a midlife-crisis when I see one and if all it takes is a bottle of potent cologne to hurtle through it I can count myself lucky. As it is his older brother seems to be going through it right now and his choice of splurge will be a big drum kit...just to be on the safe side I might talk Bob into getting two different lots of colognes and nix any thought of an earsplitting drum kit in the bud!

Biggi

Tales About The Hoff & The Coiff.

Bob's musical nemesis.

Before you think I divulge too many Bob stories, be assured that I pass each one for his inspection and this particular one he insisted that I write it for you...

Almost everyday there is mention of The Hoff a.k.a. David Hasselhoff on the telly. Honestly, Germany and Austria are enamoured with him. Either he is singing about looking for freedom or he is in a popular ad about sports betting. Regardless, The Hoff is ever present and thus also this story from long ago!

Before I had met Bob, he went to a popular hairstylist recommended by his mum. He had just returned from a couple of years in London and thus was as groovy as can be. His indie phase, music, style and attitude. This hairdresser must have been in her mid 40's while Bob was in his mid 20's. Bob's hair is extremely curly and thick and often it is best to keep it short regardless of the fashion at the time. Once Bob grew his mane out to almost resemble a lion's but his family weren't that keen on it so off it came.

So there is my trendy husband sitting in this stylist's chair and she does what every good stylist does; look at the hair type and what one could achieve over time with it but obviously forgot to notice what Bob wore;

" Bob, your hair is fabulous. It is so thick and wavy that I think it would look great if we shape it so it can grow into a David Hasselhoff style. You know, Knight Rider. "

" Eh, um, I am not so sure. I'd like it short please. "

Bob is polite to a T. Even though he wanted nothing more than to hop off her chair, he stuck it out to have his haircut finish. Needless to say that was the last time she saw him and before Bob even got home back then, he went to another salon to have his semi-hoff style nixed in the bud...Rest assured, both of us have a good giggle each and every time we see The Hoff on telly.

Biggi

Lotions & Potions.

Marriage, a laugh a minute.

Most men are like children when it comes to taking potions and lotions. In this case I was trying to get my dear husband to drink a healthy potion of hemp and hibiscus powder. Mixed with water it doesn't look that good but I was short of time and couldn't glam it up. Over the course of our marriage Bob has learnt to live with the fact that I love nutrition and health and often sees me reading various books on the subject, taking notes, eventually mixing stuff for him to try!

Yesterday morning was one of those moments where I had this dash of liquid health ready to be drunk by Bob. Like any suspicious longtime husband he chose to be wary. Not that I had asked him to sign odd pieces of paper recently which would have been a dead giveaway!

" Aghl, what the heck is this stuff? I don't want it! "

nothing for it but to go into sales mode;

" Schatzi, I drink this every morning and can't you see how my skin is glowing and looking more youthful? "

to which my formerly darling husband replied without hesitation or batting an eyelid:

" Obviously you didn't drink enough for the skin on your hands. "

Blimey, kids, animals and now husbands...after bemoaning the state of his own hands he bravely downed the cup and had the grace to look a tad bit sheepish. We compared the backs of our hands and I wouldn't be surprised if from now on we compare the look and texture of our hands. I must say, Victorian ladies were extremely clever by always wearing gloves...not a bad idea.

Biggi

Choosy Chickens.

Cabbage anyone?

This morning a whole stack of wood was on the cards. Four cubic meters of chopped wood
( I hope I got that right ) was delivered. Well, they were actually dumped unceremoniously in the middle of my parents' yard and thus I was headed there to help stack them. A yearly event although I am still not brave enough to attempt the actual stacking. How on earth does my mum stack them so perfectly when each and every piece of wood has a different dimension? Much better for me to be the gofer!

My parent's neighbour is the owner of a troupe of chickens and often mum pops over vegetable peels etc. An almost whole head of cabbage has been whiling its fate away in our fridge for almost two weeks now - somehow the right moment to use it never came up - and had morphed to that tangy phase. Best to give away and the chickens seemed a perfect choice. No waste and no guilt...or so I thought!

Cunningly I had cut the cabbage into pieces before handing it over to my folks to give to the chickens. A whole head of cabbage wouldn't have looked good. Kind of wasteful...better to disguise it as a treat for the chicks. Little did I know that contrary to popular opinion, Chickens are choosy creatures.

" Oh, the only food those chickens won't eat is cabbage! "

Just my luck! A friend was sitting at the table listening to the cabbage-chicken saga when he suggested to use the cabbage for a salad and to add more vinegar to disguise any ripeness. Thank goodness I had the forethought of chopping it up roughly before as there was no way it could be made into a delicate salad.

Who knew that chickens could be so choosy? Goodness me, what next? Well, at least there is an alternative use for my head of cabbage...mum's compost pile along the fence, which will ensure that at least the whiff of decomposing cabbage will drift into our choosy chickens' nostrils.

Biggi

It Looks Like An Early Start Tomorrow Morning.

Preening in store.

Last week Bob came home from work and told me that a camera woman / photographer had been with the team for about an hour, setting up a time to spend a whole day following them in the vineyard in order to shoot a documentary about them, wine and the work involved. The day it is going to go ahead is tomorrow. The whole day the team is being shadowed by this camera woman.

Naturally there had to be a tiny fly in the ointment...Bob came home and told me that that woman was a stunner, a real beauty. So much so that all of the crew had instantly stood up straight upon catching sight of her, pulled in their stomachs and smiled idiotically. All of them, like lemmings in a row. Too funny. Well, at least he told me.

I can just imagine tomorrow's palaver to get going in the morning and I am pretty sure that I will get roped into ironing his favourite work overalls while he takes the time for a clean shave and a liberal dose of aftershave.

As they are spending the day around our area, I jokingly ( or maybe not? ) told Bob that I might do a drive by to spy on them...and just for good measure I might go up to Bob and loudly say:

" Honey, you forgot to change your undies this morning. Here is a clean pair! "

All joking aside, I am so chuffed for Bob, his boss and his team for having the opportunity to become immortal on screen. Can't wait to see the result and hopefully this stunning woman has a boyfriend or even better, is married...As I told Bob, at least I still care!

Biggi