Thirty-seven and a half days ago we were doing pretty good. The birds were singing. No one was licking food out of bowls. Life was great. Until….the whip cream incident.
The day started out as any other, normal, day. We stopped early to gas the camper up. Mr. C. Cow made chocolate chip pancakes with homemade whip cream. I had gotten in my required morning coffee intake. Breakfast was delicious, as usual. Things felt pretty marvelous until I noticed the whip cream bowl on the camper counter…..
Someone wasn’t just putting it on top of breakfast. The majority of this whip cream was not making it onto a dish. Someone was licking it out of the bowl during breakfast. I was horrified! Had Mr. C. Cow reverted to licking food out of a bowl before serving? Were we back to wondering if our food had been cow tongue attacked before it was given to us? Had thirty-seven and a half days of restraint been destroyed by a fluffy pancake topping?
I was apprehensive at the thought of having to pull out the interrogation lamps. Making Mr. C. sweat it out under the lights while I asked him how many dishes he had licked before serving did not sound like the normal day that we had started out with. Was all of our progress back to zero?
Before I had a chance to get out the questioning chair, Mr. C. started cleaning up the dishes from breakfast. He noticed I was staring at the whip cream bowl with a mixture of horror and sadness on my face. As I opened my mouth, Mr. C. Cow produced a spoon that he had used to eat the whip cream. No one had licked the bowl. No one had used a spatula to shovel food into their mouth. A spoon, not used more than once, had been used to eat. Double dipping had not happened. Our thirty-seven and a half days were safe. So was our appetites.
Lesson learned….sometimes you need to not jump to conclusions before you know all of the facts. Trust in your friends. Even if it involves breakfast.
Photo taken by me.
Actual photo of whip cream that we made. No one double dipped into the bowl. Huzzah!
Happy Valentine’s Day From All Of Us At “Postcards From Tipsy”!!
It’s almost time for Mr. C. Cow to pull off his “love mission” to show his family appreciation. As he was decorating a picnic area I started to worry when he started pulling out the balloons. Visions of a billion balloons popping in harmony over dinner started going through my mind. Before I could cower at the thought he only used a few to set the “mood”. Your entire families ear drums thank you Mr. C.!
It’s almost time for our Valentine party so I must go and get ready for his picnic (not too many balloons) love party. I’ll let you all know how it goes tomorrow.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
SL photo taken by me
If you would like to read about why balloons are a sore spot then please check out yesterday’s postcard “Mission: Love” for all of the (loud) details.
Mr. C. Cow thought it a marvelous idea to inform me that he was holding a dinner party. My first response was to ask why we needed to hold a dinner party after we had held multiple parties though the holiday season. This past November through the first of January was nothing but appetizers, cocktails, and elegant dishes. Why did we need to hold a feast so soon after the holidays? Mr. C. Cow said it was because he wanted to wear a cummerbund. I don’t think he knows what a cummerbund is. I am assuming that he thinks it involves butter and cinnamon.
This declaration of banquet festivities puts me on the spot. I have to go and purchase all of the ingredients to make the food as well as the drinks for everyone to enjoy. After that is done I have to clean the entire house. I’m not talking a quick sweep and go but a full blown cleaning. The kitchen has to be spotless. Mr. C. Cow’s hoof prints have to be washed off of the dinning room ceiling. On top of the cleaning I have to inform Bishop that Mr. C. Cow is on a cummerbund mission and we have to throw a party that involves toothpicks holding together tiny foods. I will have to take our lil’ cow friend to buy the cummerbund he desires because has no clue what one is.
When Mr. C. Cow was properly introduced to a cummerbund he didn’t seem as thrilled as I thought he would be to wear it. He loved its lime green with purple stars design and the fit was good. I think Mr. C. thought he would look less like a waiter and more like an international spy in it. I’m hoping he’s not planning on trying to international-cow-of- mystery spy shop anytime soon.
As for the dinner party, it went surprisingly well. No one ate any of the toothpicks holding the tiny foods together. There were no cocktails spilled on the couch. I had a pleasant time and a clean house so I couldn’t complain. If Mr. C. Cow wants to throw another shindig in the (distant) future I’m all for it. Can’t let his lime green, purple star cummerbund sit in the closet too long.
It’s almost Thanksgiving in the states and we’ve been busy baking pies and tracing hand turkeys. Making a hand turkey is tough when you’ve got hooves or otter hands. Bishop makes a pretty wicked looking turkey with his giant polar bear paws. You have to lay out four pieces of paper just to make his whole hand fit.
Since Thanksgiving is all about giving thanks I asked everyone to share three things that they are thankful for.
Low wind days when you have to fly to the grocery store
Decent WiFi signals
Mr. C. Cow is thankful for…
Free snack vendors
We are all thankful for so many different things but have one thing in common. Each other. We are thankful to have each other. We’re also thankful for all of you that read our postcards every week. Without friendship, love, and all of you none of this would be possible.
Fall is in the air and it’s one of the best seasons of the year to hit up a farmers market.
I know that Summer is also a good time. Spring isn’t bad either. Autumn markets are the prime time for buying if you’re into the squash, pumpkins, and brussels sprouts. They are also great for those of us who have to plan a unique and enormous Thanksgiving holiday menu. When you have guests that don’t eat meat, are usually considered the “main entrée”, and won’t eat asparagus (Who doesn’t like asparagus??!!??) it can be a challenge.
Mr. C. Cow went with me on what he called my “squash quest” to start planning the holiday feast. I think he only wanted to come along because it involves food and questing. Anything that he considers a “quest” always needs a heroic cow sidekick. I don’t know how much protection I need on a “squash quest” but I’ll take the extra set of helping hoofs to carry groceries.
As luck has it I was able to get a good idea on what to serve this year without it involving meat or (sigh) asparagus. No warlocks tried to block my way to the market. Not a single booby trap was tripped while walking from the camper. We didn’t even see any forbidding signs telling us to “beware”. I think the quest protection was not needed but Mr. C. Cow said his being there was working.
Speaking of Mr. C. Cow, he seemed to find the whole farmers market thing amusing. Before you could say “But I like asparagus!” he was standing next to a cart juggling gourds. I don’t think the gourd seller appreciated it until I gave him a few dollars for the juggled produce. When Mr. C. attempted to trade an old shoestring he found in his pocket for an apple from an agitated orchard grower, I was able to distract him with snacks.
Holiday meal planning takes a lot of time and effort when you’re trying to do the best you can for all of your family and friends. I’m glad I have enough time to get a menu all planned out. Maybe Mr. C. Cow can resist the urge to haggle or juggle the next time we’re at a market and help me out. At least he kept me safe from warlocks.
Marslean is the one that asked that we not serve any asparagus at this years meal. I don’t think we’ve ever served it for Thanksgiving but she insisted it not be on the table. After explaining that it wasn’t even in season, she was still adamant that we not serve it. I’m going to have to find out if this is a taste thing or a fear thing. If it’s fear then would it be “asparagaphobia”?
I apologize for the lack of a postcard last week Thursday. Mr. C. Cow has been taking typing lessons and spend the entire day practicing. He’s trying to get his “words per minute” speed up from three to ten. Typing with hoofs can’t be easy and finding out that words like “dfa;ejoiardd” and “areraeasdereeee” are not real can be frustrating. Mr. C. could use “talk to type” but he’s determined to do it on his own. I’m glad he’s putting a little effort into it with the classes and practice.
Since Mr. C. Cow was preoccupied with his work, I spent the day at a petting zoo feeding the animals. I must say that I never thought this would be a relaxing way to pass the time. Normally this would be a stressed filled activity involving the feeding of wildlife as well as the feeding of Mr. C. I should call it “expensive and stressful”.
Being an otter, I am naturally curious as to why other animals choose the career path of professional zoo animal. A pro zoo animal is hard enough but being a pro petting zoo animal must be harder. Not only do you have to be on public display but people are always trying to pet you. I don’t even like it when someone touches my beehive. Germs is another reason why I could never take this type of work. Who knows where those hands have been!
I asked a lot of different animals why they decided to get into the professional petting zoo field. The chipmunks were all about the free food. A llama told me it was for the great dental benefits. One goat told me she was doing it to help pay for her liberal arts degree. I can understand the need to make a living. More power to all you zoo animals out there!
When I returned from my educational excursion, Mr. C. Cow was eating a peanut butter banana sandwich and watching old reruns of “As The Cowbell Tings”. Sneaking a peek at his timed typing practice quizzes, I noticed he increased his word count from three to a solid twelve. In celebration of his mastery over a keyboard I should take him to the petting zoo sometime. With extra food to keep the costs down and a cocktail to calm my nerves.
I’ve been to a lot of different kinds of bars before. Cocktail bars. Salad bars. I’ve even tasted a candy bar at the risk of losing my girlish otter figure. Mr. C. Cow has decided to “raise the bar” by finding us one that involves nachos.
When I think of a nacho bar, I keep picturing a bunch of cheesy tortilla chips kicking back, having a beer, discussing the pros and cons of jalapeños. I know this can’t be true as tortilla chips prefer to discuss the market price of tomatoes.
Mr. C. Cow, being smart in the food department, knows I’m just being silly and informs me that a nacho bar just involves the opportunity to make as many nachos as possible. If you want to eat fifty plates of nachos that are only covered in lettuce and salsa then knock yourself out. I don’t know how one could eat fifty plates but Mr. C. has goals.
I do have a bit of a nacho problem as I want to try all of the toppings but can’t seem to fit them onto one plate. Mr. C. Cow suggested I skip the tiny plates and use a hubcap from the camper instead. I don’t feel like washing cheese off of a hubcap so I’ll just skip the whole process. He can partake in the all you can eat while I find the type of bar that serves craft beers.
After I had a few libations, I felt it was time to call it a day. The camper was parked for the evening and I just wanted to go to bed. Mr. C. Cow wasn’t done making nachos so he decided to use a surfboard to carry his creations back to the camper. A surfboard is almost as ridiculous as a hubcap plate but a little more awkward due to length. How was he going to get it in the camper? How many nachos does it take to fill a surfboard? Is it safe to try to walk down stairs with a nacho surfboard?
To combat the stairs he kinda nacho surfed the board down, carefully, not losing a single jalapeño or chip. We should start a nacho surfing competition. Give out prizes for style. Points lost if you lose a topping.
On that note, I bid you all a good day but before I finish today’s postcard I want to leave you with a joke.
What do you call cheese that isn’t yours? Nacho cheese!