My girl turns two

 Two years ago today, Miss Chelsea Kabob Bennett was born.  When I met her, she was three weeks old.  She lived on a farm in a shed with her Mama.  We picked her out (or, she picked me out when she licked me,) when she was three weeks old, then we visited her two more times before we brought her home at eight weeks of age. 

When Chelsea was little, one of her favorite toys was her bunny.  For her birthday present, I bought her a new bunny. 

Chelsea meets the bunny.

 

Poor bunny.

Trying to get me to play fetch- just before I wrote this post.

Chelsea is very musical and loves to "play" a toy that has a squeaker in it.  For now, the bunny has a squeaker.  I am surprised that the bunny isn't destroyed, yet.  Doug played fetch with Chelsea in the yard this evening and then the three of us were in the yard for quite awhile- he working in the vegetable garden and me working in my full sun flower bed.  Then, when I came in, I gave Chelsea her present and she is tired, now.

Baby Chelsea

2010, Two years old.

All in all, I believe she had a very good birthday.  She makes us very happy.  Loves unconditionally, is happy and smiling all the time, enthusiastic, smart, loves to play. 
She is a good girl.

Blogging Abe Lincoln style

All my life, I heard about Abe Lincoln scratching out his lessons by the light from the fire.  The other night, I blogged by firelight candlelight, so I figure now I got somethin' in common with old Abe. 
In the old days, ("back in the day") as my children say whenever I tell a story, I was accustomed to writing long-hand on a legal pad.  I liked writing longhand on a legal pad.  When I first started using a computer, I would always write my stories long-hand, then "type" them up on the computer.  I probably started to transition to writing via keyboard only after someone wondered why I was using the computer basically as a typewriter and not using it to capability.  Once I got the hang of it, I loved it of course.  I feel like I'm making myself sound ninety years old.  (I'm not.)  The following is what I blogged one night last week, by candlelight when we lost our electricity for many hours.  I was at the table surrounded by Chelsea Kabob Bennett, Milo and Tree. 

Slowed by the lack of electricity, lulled by silence, not even the hum of electricity interrupts our interlude.  I pause to do what it is that I love to do- read.  I sit at the kitchen table, surrounded by a semi-circle of candles to shine upon the page.

The animals, too, sense the calm.  Two cats and a dog sleep nearby.  Normally, the dog demands attention, rudely nudging my thigh with her nose, depositing her toy on my lap, demanding a game of fetch.  This evening, realizing the twilight within the house, serenaded by the sounds of frogs and crickets, she rests at my feet. 

Teased for a moment, with a surge of power which doesn't take, (it is so brief, that the dog doesn't even bark- she replies to the surg with a soft "wumpf" of sound) I am surprised to feel a sense of relief.  Our evening of silence and darkness continues.  Without keyboard, or the light of the laptop screen, I reach for pen to express myself.  My old friend, the legal pad complies, accepting my words.  It is 9:30 and I am ready for bed.  I will rest, expecting my slumber to be halted by the rude sound of electricity. 

**Our electricity didn't come back on until late morning, the next day.  My sleep was uninterrupted, I was able to eek one more hot (fast) shower from the water heater and went to work, not looking too far removed from my normal appearance.

Happy Dad's Day

One of my creations for my Dad

My Dad has always been "Dad."  Never "Father." 
He and Mother both taught me to love nature.
Dad taught me how to be quiet in the woods and how to "see things" in nature.
I am usually the first to spot a critter.
He taught me how to cast a fishing line in such a manner
 that amazed my son when he was young.
(I can also bait a hook and take a fish off a line, but don't often employ such skills.)
He felt it was important to learn to play chess.  I learned to play chess, but I don't think my moves through and usually lose quickly.  But, I know how to play chess.
He kicked my ass on a daily basis when I was younger and eventually kicked me out for arguing with him when I was nineteen. 
We had a few years of barely speaking to one another. 
Later in life, things were very tough for me, through the "lean years" of divorce, but I was strong because my Dad had made me tough.  
We no longer argue.
  I may disagree with him but I firmly say
 "I am not going to argue with you about this- but..." 
He now takes good care of my mother (which earlier in life I couldn't have imagined).
He is a diet-controlled diabetic and takes good care of himself.
He is helping my brother to get his life back on track.
We now have good talks.  Earlier in my life, I never thought that would happen. 
He quit smoking.
I don't think he drinks any longer.
He listens (most of the time).
He has softened.
He is my Dad.