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.
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.
The 4th of July is coming up in the states next week and it’s going to be a busy one. We’ll all be at home and Mr. C. Cow and I plan on doing a lot of cooking. He’s been pouring over cookbooks for the perfect deserts to go with grilled veggies while I’m trying to figure out how to light the grill. I’ve used a gas grill before but it’s been YEARS since I’ve attempted to use charcoal. Bishop might have to be in charge of the grill lighting. I’m afraid I’ll catch my giant beehive on fire.
Speaking of fire, we’re planning on letting Marslean handle the fireworks this year. Last year Mr. C. Cow was holding a sparkler and got a teeny tiny little burn on his hoof. It was so tiny that it probably hurt for a second. Despite the small injury, Mr. C. acted like his entire leg had caught on fire. We had to wrap all of his legs in gauze just to get him to stop crying. Marslean said there will be no sparklers this year. I think that’s a wise decision.
Since everyone seems to have a job to do to get ready for the holiday I’m at a loss as to where I am needed. I tried to move the picnic table in the shade but it was too big and heavy. Bishop and Mr. C. Cow had to move them around. I was going to get the nice tablecloth and place mats out but Marslean beat me to it. The only thing I’ve done so far is that awesome table centerpiece.
Mr. C. Cow sensed the lost look on my face and offered to let me help him do a bit of baking. I would but he’s really good at it. He can lay down a good fondant on a cake while I find myself tangled up in it like some sort of sugary trap. After a few minutes of sitting under a tree with a therapeutic martini, I decided that I am taking on the appetizers. I can crostini like a boss.
Sometimes we feel left out because we think our skills aren’t useful. It might take a martini rest under a tree before we find out that we are useful. All of us have something to offer.
All photos taken in Second Life at my personal home by me.
There are many signs that all of us should never ignore. Stop signs. Signs of a major health issue. A sign telling you which way the restrooms are. One of the most important signs in particular is a sign telling you where to find donuts.
Mr. C. Cow has a particular nose that can sniff out a donut (or a sign stating there are donuts) from, at least, six miles away. Once, I swear this is true, he led me up and down multiple winding roads because he said there were donuts. He was correct. There were many donuts. I always thought that dogs had a better sense of smell then a cow. Sorry dogs.
I’ve never really tested my sense of smell, but, I do have a great sense of knowing when Mr. C. Cow is doing something he probably shouldn’t. When I used a sign informing me of where the restrooms were I sensed that he was overindulging in the desert department. After successfully returning from my sign following he was found with a pie and two crepes. After eating three donuts it was a bit much.
To distract Mr. C. Cow from eating all that and, possibly, a cookie he saw in a display case, I sent him off to do a bit of exploring. A distraction cleverly disguised as a scavenger hunt. Pretty smart huh? While he was safely away from getting a few of his stomachs in trouble I got to eat a crepe. Win win for both of us.
I wonder if Bishop has some weird coffee sense that tells him where coffee is at all times. He does have a sense to know when Mr. C. Cow is driving a bulldozer when he shouldn’t. It’s saved a few walls so it’s been tested. Marslean can probably sense when I’m punting paper footballs into the garbage can instead of doing office work when we’re at the shop. She always seems to catch me and give me this “disapproving head shake face things”. I guess all of us, in our own way, can sense something special.
I looked up how well a cow can smell just to see if he was really that good. According to this place called “the internet”, a cow can smell things up to six miles away. See! Mr. C. Cow wasn’t lying. Look it up!
I am feeling all sorts of grumpy and grumbly this morning. Like I woke up on the wrong side of the camper floating in a river going off of a cliff grumpy. If I could kick the sun and not burn my tiny little foot off I would grumpy. Mr. C. Cow, on the other hand, woke up all sorts of chipper and bouncy. I don’t know how he can wake up like that every morning. You would think he would get up at least once in his life and not be so happy.
To combat my mumble grumbles Mr. C. Cow decided to drive me to the most beautiful place he could find for pancakes. I didn’t think his chipper idea of pancakes was going to work but, lo and behold, he found some sort of cheerful cafe that seemed to be blessed by the sun.
The sight of this magnificent building combined with the rays of the sun shining down upon it like some sort of sky blessing got rid of my mumbles. I still had my grumbles and those weren’t going to be impressed by light trickery. Mr. C. Cow was going to have to do better than that!
“You still have the grumbles? Pancakes take away the grumbles!” – Mr. C. Cow presenting me with the perfect pile of pan cakery.
Not only did Mr. C. find a way to get rid of my mumbles he also got rid of my grumbles. He got rid of the grumpy, the mean eye, AND the need to kick the sun. All with just a plate of pancakes? Nah. It’s not just the pancakes. It’s a friend who drives you to a breakfast joint, buys you breakfast, and tries to cheer your blues away. A friend who puts up with you when you sometimes wake up on the wrong side of the camper and still gives you pancakes.
I don’t know how Mr. C. Cow wakes up every morning all chipper and bouncy. What I do know is that I need to try to learn how to bounce, at least, a little.
Mr. C. Cow believes that there is a special food related season that starts the day after Thanksgiving and runs until January 2nd. It’s the time of the year where each meal involves pie, five hundred side dishes (at least), and some sort of holly jolly beverage. One good example of this is what happened the other day. While I was visiting a lovely snowman…….
…Mr. C. Cow was too busy partaking in his holiday fest season.
He missed an amazing conversation discussing the difficulties a snowman must face during the warmer months. Relocating (if needed) to an area that stays cold enough all year long. Finding employment in such locations. Making sure the air conditioning in their house doesn’t stop working if faced with a heat wave. Heavy stuff!
Mr. C. Cow, on the other hand, was hoof deep into the appetizer of the appetizer of the appetizer. He completely missed out on a wonderful conversation I had with a polar bear wearing headphones.
We listened to music together. Waved our hands in the air like we just didn’t care. I even learned a few new sweet dance moves that I am planning on testing the next time Mr. C. Cow and I go dancing.
What was he doing?
When we were both finished (Him with his pie and myself with learning how to do the “Roger Rabbit”) we got back into the camper and on our way. About three miles down the road Mr. C. Cow started to get a belly ache. It started out small then grew to epic pain of moo-crying proportions. I had to rush us to the nearest pharmacy for some tummy medication. While he was resting in the back of the camper I didn’t feel the need to be one of those “I told you so!!” kinda individuals. Mr. C. Cow learned his lesson. You can’t eat like every day is holiday meal. Not only is it REALLY bad for your body it’s also really bad for your (multiple) cow tummies.