a friend came to visit the poor patient with the broken wrist (me) and brought her two eldest daughters (8 and 4) and the, also 8 year old, boyfriend of the eldest with her. the boyfriend introduced himself to hubs: ‘hello, i’m connor.’
’hi connor’, said hubs. ‘so you are amy’s boyfriend?’
’yes’, connor nodded, ‘and i’m very good at it!’
mozes and biggles are friends too
…and now I can only type with one hand and don’t have the patience to type the entire short story. So I’ll make it even shorter. I made a lovely butt shaped indentation in the sand again (2nd time involuntary descent from young and incredibly-quick-turn-around Evie) and also a lovely hand shaped one. Must have done, because my wrist hurts like hell. Can’t really remember how I landed. The rest of me is fine, I did climb up and rode her further for a while. Went well. But now ouch.
So… i’ll just keep posting photos here and on my photoblog (see link at bottom of this page).
Something blogworthy turned out to be something shit. Sorry if you’re offended by my language.
I’ll make it up to you with this photo of Biggles and Mozes. Best friends.
This is the 50th edition of Sunday Selections, hosted by the very creative and lovely Kim from Frogpondsrock. Sunday Selections gives us the opportunity to post those photos that have been hanging around on our computers(s) for ages. I seem to have a lot of photos of sleepy animals, so this is the second edition of my Sleepy Sunday Selections. A third edition will follow next Sunday. We will all be terribly bored by then.
For other, more ‘professional’, photos taken by yours truly and featuring horses and their humans, see my attempt to start a photography business.
NAP TIME (again)
Sunday Selections is a great meme that gives us the opportunity to post those almost forgotten photos that have been hanging around in folders on our computers. Kim from Frogpondsrock came up with this great idea. If you like to join in, just hop over to the rocking frog ponds and post a selection of your own. You know how these things work.
Last week I promised you a selection of photos that will make you chuckle or say ‘awww’.
Oh, the pressure.
I hope you won’t be disappointed. And I have to warn you: in some shots Biggles shamelessly displays his balls. He’s a proud boy.
NAP TIME
Which is why we usually just sit on the floor.
Warned you about the Biggles-balls. It does get worse though…
See?
For more sleepy photos of the furry bunch, you’ll have to wait for the next Sunday Selections. I have loads of them and I haven’t even posted the cutest yet…
An email exchange with Janice from Jabblog brought back a memory that I thought I’d share with you.
First some very elaborate background information:
When you get a pet, you probably want to give it a name. Most people do. (Although, I’ve sometimes thought I shouldn’t have bothered thinking of lovely, fitting names for our dogs. We could have just called them all Cookie. They’re back with you in no time when you shout ‘cooookie’ in a high pitched voice.)
This story is about dogs and their names. People who breed dogs, sometimes have their own rules for naming their pups. Sometimes they name their pups after flowers, or for every litter the name should start with a particular letter, or every pup should be named after a Greek god(dess). And then of course sometimes they have a kennel name, either to be placed in front of or behind the name of the pup.
For instance: our Phoebe is officially called: Kim’s News Look Elegant Phoebe. Kim’s News Look = kennel name, Elegant is the collective litter name, Phoebe is the dog’s name.
Holle is officially called: Bonbon of Clay Diggers. Of Clay Diggers is the kennel name and Holle’s name should start with a B. We thought of Bonbon, because she’s from Belgium and they are famous for their delicious chocolate bonbons. But we had already decided that her name would be Holle.
And then there is Biggles. He’s called Boy O Boy Biggles of Towns Channel. Of Towns Channel is the kennel name. He had to be named after a rose, Boy O Boy, and we wanted to call him Biggles.
So far the elaborate background information.
This is the story:
We have labrador retrievers and used to train them for the hunt. Not that we ever planned to take them on a hunt, but they are retrievers, so we thought we’d let them do what they are bred for. And the training turned out to be a lot of fun for the dogs as well as for us humans. I even entered my dogs (our first labrador retriever Cosy (Cosy Karthuizer Valley) and Holle) in a couple of hunting competitions and we didn’t do too bad. Even won some prizes.
One year our club organized one of those competitions and they asked me to be the one to welcome the competitors and their dogs and tick their names off the list of competitors I’d been given. The list had the names of the dogs in alphabetical order and then the name of the handler.
I’d been given a wonky table and a chair, the list, the numbers the handlers had to wear on their outfit (so the judges knew who it was) and some other stuff, like a pen and a cup of coffee.
Welcoming and registering the competitors went something like this:
Man and very enthusiastic labrador approach the table. Labrador immediately jumps up, puts muddy front paws on wonky table, coffee falls over, pen rolls off, I dive under table to rescue pen, dog dives under table too and licks my face. I pop up again from under the table, wipe face, sit on chair, breathe, rescue list from muddy paws of dog that tries to get onto the table, and with a friendly smile say: “Welcome to this competition. Can I have the name of your dog please?”
Man: “Huh, yeah, thanks. Sorry about that. The dog’s name is Tommy.”
I go through the list of alphabetically ordered dog names until I reach the T: Tabatha’s Turd Turning Harry, Terrible Stinky of the Bean Farm, Twister of the Windy Willows….
“There’s no Tommy on the list, sir.”
”No Tommy?”
”No Tommy. But perhaps his ‘real’ name is different? The name on Tommy’s papers I mean.”
”Oh. Yeah. It is. I dunno. Uhm…” Turning around, looking for his wife who’s patiently waiting somewhere well out of the way of the growing row of people with happy labradors: “Honey! HONEY! What’s the name of our dog?!”
”What?”, woman shouts back.
”What’s our dog called?”
”Tommy!”
”Yeah. I know. But what’s his official name!”
”Uhh, I dunno. Something like Flippy Floppy something something.”
I go back through the list to the F’s. Fast Ada of the Furry Bunch, Fast Eddie of the Furry Bunch, Fast Freddie* of the Furry Bunch (a couple of brothers and sisters had been entered in the competition), Ferocious Brutus of the Nippy Teeth (not a typical labrador name), Foreseeing Trouble in the Woods… “No Flippy Floppies here, sir.”
“No Flippy Floppies?”
”No.”
Man looking back down the line of waiting people, busy untwisting their dog’s leash from other dogs’ leashes: “Hey Harry, what’s your dog called?”
”My dog?”
”Yeah.”
”Willy!”
”Yes, I know, but what’s his official name?”
”Uhm… Stormy Weather’s Weird William!”
”Oh yeah”, and turning to me again: “Tommy is called Stormy Weather’s Wonderful Wilfred.”
Me: “Of course.”
And so I wrestled through the list of dog names, because this wasn’t the only guy who didn’t know what his dog’s official name was. I suggested to the organizers to use a different list next time. One that stated the names of the handlers in alphabetical order. I think it’s safe to assume that most people do know their own names.
When I came home, I asked hubs: “Do you know the official names of our dogs?” Blank face: “Uhhh… no idea.”
* All the names of dogs in this post, apart from those of our own dogs, are fictitious. At least I hope so. I made them up. I had to, because this all happened years ago and I certainly don’t remember the names of these dogs.
Fast Freddie was inspired by one of Suldog’s teammates. I hope he doesn’t mind. Wouldn’t it be eerie if he turns out to have a brother called Eddie and a sister called Ada?
Our Sunday Selections host Kim’s daughter got married yesterday. She has some lovely photos and a memorable wedding story on her blog Frogpondsrock.
So I thought it would be nice to choose my Sunday Selections for this day, based on LOVE.
Sarah (the cat, sadly no longer with us) loved Phoebe (now 14 years old).
Lovedoves.
Hubs loves his horse Willem.
They all love each other.
It’s getting a bit crowded with so much love going on.
Cute love.
I loved this little cat, Lapje, but sadly she’s one of the fourleggers who’s no longer with us.
Well, who wouldn’t love Nufnuf’s smiling face.
Or that of his non-related brother Tumtum, who isn’t as smiley, but definitely very loveable.
There is so much love going on in our house, that I have enough photos for several Sunday Selections. More of the same will be in next week’s Sunday Selections.
♥ ♥ a love story ♥ ♥
Biggles and Holle are watching something very interesting. What could it be?
Well…
these two lovebirds ladybirds were doing it
one of them must have been a manbird
in the heat of the moment they fell off the wood rail
but they just carried on (sand everywhere)
and carried on
and carried on
If you’re interested:
he wiggles about a lot (assuming the one on top is the ‘he’) and she just patiently undergoes it all.
And it takes a while.
This smouldering love story was brought to you courtesy of Kim at Frogpondsrock, who gives us the opportunity to post those photos that have been hanging around on our computers, waiting for an opportunity to be seen. These particular shots have been hanging around on my laptop since June last year. So we should all be very grateful to Kim, for who knows if I would ever have come around to posting them otherwise.
Hop over to the rocking frog ponds if you want to see more interesting photos or if you want to join in.
In order to achieve the magic number of 100 followers (which list magically disappears from and reappears at the top of my blog without any reason known to me; Blogger’s ways are mysterious) I need only two more people to sign up.
I’m just saying… no pressure…
Today was Result Day of hubs’ colon cancer examinations. And the news is good. They found nothing else, except for the rather large tumour we already knew is there in his colon. The tumour is on the border of his colon and his rectum. But fortunately they have decided it can be treated as colon cancer. If they would have decided that the tumour was situated too low, hubs would have had to undergo chemo- and radiotherapy first. So, since they have decided it is in his colon, an operation only will do. And, unless they discover something scary about the tumour when it is removed, that will be it.
It must have been all the positive energy and thoughts and your prayers, don’t you think?
When hubs’ doctor delivered the good news and we talked about what the next steps in his treatment will be, I said: “Good! And now we’re going to buy some ‘Moorkoppen’ to celebrate.” (‘Moorkoppen’ are hubs’ favourite pastry (and ‘rijstevlaai met slagroom’ too actually)). So on our way home we stopped at a bakery and bought some ‘Moorkoppen’.
One could consider the name Moorkop to be politically incorrect if one is very sensitive about these things. It means something like Moorish Head, probably referring to the delicious chocolate topping on the choux pastry? But I’m sure the Moorkop doesn’t mean to insult anyone. Their sole purpose in life is to be delicious. Choux pastry, lots and lots of whipped cream and chocolate and for the healthy touch a piece of sliced pineapple.
In fact, I googled ‘moorkop’ after I wrote the above and found this: The origin of the name moorkop lies in Den Bosch. There was a house named ‘de Moriaan’, and the residents were well-known for their cooking. They specialised in delicious patisseries. At some point in time a pastry made by the cooks became a popular delicacy and someone shouted: 'it looks like a morenkop' (a ‘morenkop’ is a stone head of a moor, or black man, that hung above many pharmacies). Our moorkop came from the name 'morenkop'.
And if one eats too many of these, one becomes a…
… fat bastard. That’s right.
I saw this Rose (haven’t found out how to get the ‘accent aigu’ above the a or e; the combination ‘e or ‘a doesn’t work on this laptop, so if someone knows the trick, please let me know) in a supermarket and I couldn’t resist it. Look how cute the hippo is. And I mean; Fat bastard. Does that not bring a smile to your face? It does to mine. And it doesn’t taste bad either.
We might open a bottle tonight with a couple of friends who want to celebrate the good news with us.
Now we have to wait for hubs’ operation, which will take place later this month. They gave him a book full of information about the examinations he’s had and about the operation and apparently they will let him go home after the operation ‘if the patient can pass wind’. WELL… what can I say. To me that seems to be a wise decision from the hospital’s point of view. I hope he doesn’t pass too much wind when he gets home though. I could do without another flatulent guy in this home. Biggles passes enough wind for the entire population of our village me thinks.
Petje (the cat) is extremely brave to pick this spot to have a nap. I’m happy to say that she did survive the gas attacks and that she didn’t get squashed either. They were both really comfortable actually. It’s amazing. I know.
Sunday Selections is hosted by Kim from Frogpondsrock and is the perfect opportunity to post those photos that are otherwise hanging around aimlessly in folders on your computer.
HEADS UP
So, last week I posted their bottoms, and today I’m posting their other ends. Their heads. Well, I tried, but some just didn’t want to look at the little birdie.
Like that middle cow. Stubborn thing.
And this is the other end of Mozes. He’s probably looking at another little birdie.
Mozes and Biggles putting their heads together.
The Biggles Face
You’re not photographing my bum again are you?
Yeah (snigger), but I’m also making some shots of your beautiful head.
Hullo?! What’s that big bum doing there? The chickens are fascinated by this particular posterior too (Too? What do I mean: ‘too’. I’m not. No, honestly. I’m not!)
Now I have to post a photo of his head too.
And of that of his little ‘brother’. Ugly, but nice. (Tumtum is the one in front, Nufnuf is… well… looking at Tumtum’s bum. Are we all posterior-obsessed here?)
THE FRONT END
Bottoms
My Sunday Selections (hosted by Kim from Frogpondsrock and a really good excuse to post those photos that are sort of aimlessly hanging around in your computer somewhere) is all about bottoms this week. Perhaps it’s only fair that I’ll dedicate the next Sunday Selections to the other ends of these animals; their lovely faces. Although I don’t have a photo of the last one’s face. For some reason it kept running away from me.
THE END
