Life goes on

I haven't been posting as often as usual, I know.  For one thing, I usually do my blog entries in the wee hours of the morning; this time of year, I have no desire to sit at a computer during the best part of the day, which in my opinion starts when I hear the earliest bird singing outside and lasts until the sun has totally shown itself above the eastern horizon.  In order to get the full benefit, I am outside with my coffee for at least an hour each morning.  When I finally come inside, poor Cliff is languishing in bed yearning for coffee, having been calling my name in vain for many grueling minutes.  So far his caffeine addiction has not forced him out of bed to make his own coffee.  

Saturday we rode to Jamesport, our favorite Amish settlement.  I got on the Triple A site and mapped a new route.  Toward the end we got off course, but it was a lovely day and an enjoyable ride all the way. As you can see, that nasty smudge is back on my camera.  

While we were eating dinner at the Mennonite restaurant, a cute little girl decided to play peekaboo.  I love the fried chicken at this place; it tastes EXACTLY like my mom's fried chicken.  I eat it and I am a kid again.  
Some have inquired about my daughter:  Right now she is playing the waiting game.  She has an appointment with the plastic surgeon Wednesday.  After that, hopefully they will get her scheduled for surgery.  
Also, some of you have asked questions about Titan, my grandson's great Dane:  Actually, he's doing much better on his medication.  They are trying to keep him from playing too roughly, per the vet's instructions.  Someone asked how old he is... he's a puppy, really, all 120 pounds of him; I think he's ten months old.  The thing that causes these dogs trouble is that they grow too fast for their bone structure, and if they are too active between the ages of six months and one year, it can mess up the hip bones or sockets or some such thing.  
In my yard, the iris are getting ready to strut their stuff.  
We missed Church for two Sundays, but got back in the swing of things yesterday.  We both agree that going to church and getting together with a group of neighbors on a regular basis actually defines the coming week.  And to think the thing that got us back to church was a casual statement by a Facebook friend I hardly know who actually doesn't attend church regularly, as far as I know.  
I've decided to rethink my plans for my next dog:  I will start with a mongrel puppy and nip any strange hangups in the bud.  I will (grudgingly) make it an outside dog, because that would make Cliff very happy, and I will hope and pray it doesn't get hit by a car on the highway.  I'll be careful what breeds are in its background (no collie or sight-hounds), because then I won't have to pay a vet for that expensive heartworm and flea preventative.  I will do what I did with Mandy and give it Ivermectin by mouth once a month.  Works just fine, as many experienced coon-hound breeders have told me.  My only expenses will be dog food and the occasional vaccines.  
I told Cliff my plan and he said, "Well at least wait until we're back from vacation."
I told him I am not really planning on getting a puppy right away.  I still have psycho Iris around.  The only way I would take on a puppy before Iris is gone is if a cute one came to my door by chance.  
Local folks, this is not an invitation to drop puppies off at my house.  Just so you know.