Meet Ike

I decided it was time to give Mr. Frog a name.  Ike lives outside under the front steps.  This is a photo Melinda took of him one evening.   Most nights he comes out and you can find him sitting in the middle of the step - right in your way, or off in the grass just chilling.    Gaston could care less that he is out there, and Carmel didn't care much for him at all since their first meeting set her about a foot straight off the ground.  She will  walk a mile to get around Ike.  

Last evening we took a nice long walk.  As we near the apartment I usually let up on the leash and let the two of them run full throttle up the hill to the steps.  Little did I know last evening Ike was in the line of fire.  Gaston in the lead, tore up the hill and completely ran over Ike sending him hopping for his life.  Carmel in a FRENZY to avoid Ike flipped to the side and rolled over.  I was bringing up the rear and in my own panic not to fall on the dogs or squish Ike,  I veered off to the side down the hill and twisted my foot landing ever so gracefully on one knee.  Ahhh - if a neighbor had a video of that we could pick up some bucks.  

So that was my explanation this morning when asked what was the matter with my foot.  It's so nice to make people smile!! 

Something Old, something new......

When my daughter got married I gave her my veil to use, the garter I wore that was my Mothers, her Grandmothers handkerchief.    It seemed like a way to start a tradition - something that could be handed down to her daughter.  But this weekend  I was informed of something that has to be the most bizarre bridal tradition I have heard.   A friend went to a bridal shower this weekend.  The bride is adopted and both of her mothers were in attendance.   The adopted Mother gave her (I believe) a garter that she wore as "something old".  The Biological Mother gave her a bag of Granadma's ASHES to carry between her breasts - as all the other brides had done in the past.  

I wondered after she told me if it could me my old neighbor?     When I was growing up there was a woman who lived across the street who had a grand daughter that came to visit regularly.  While there is nothing wrong with that - it's really quite commendable - what makes it stand out in my memory all these years is that she always brought her dog with her.  Her DEAD, STUFFED  dog.    After I had married and moved out I did hear that she married and continued to visit (with the dog).  Of course, after Grandma died the visits stopped.  

.......could it be Grandma in the bag?