Sunday, January 18, 2009


I woke up this morning to more snow, so I decided I should go out and clear the driveway. Lo and behold, I get outside and it’s a veritable heat wave. A whole 21° F! After finishing my chore and trudging back inside, the general informs me that Q called and we’ve been given a top secret mission. No one is supposed to know, but posing as my butler is just one of his cover jobs. Being a matter of national security and all, I know you won’t tell anyone.

I had my suspicions that this mission was just a ruse. But I was also aware that stir-crazy was on the verge of morphing into just plain crazy and if he didn’t get some outdoor time I might be smothered in my sleep.

The general and I head out into the frozen tundra. We got visuals on some old tracks, but no active signs of life.
The general beat the brush and bank looking for furred or feathered enemies to scare the bejeepers out of, all to no avail.

About a mile and a half into our mission we came across a suspicious looking ridge in the distance. “Hmm,” I say to the general, “there’s never been a ridge in this area. And there’s no snow on it.” He agrees that it’s odd.

We go into stealth mode to investigate. As we get close we realize we had stumbled upon an entire battalion of enemy troops! (And me still with no gak.)

I don’t know if they were tipped off by jingling dog tags, or a reflection off my spy cam but they suddenly split forces and beat a hasty retreat.
Some went to the other side of the partially frozen river, others remained in the sky.
The general diligently searched the abandoned camp site for clues of their nefarious plans.

“It’s a trap!” I screamed to the general, “They’ve circled back around to flank us. Retreat, retreat!” We hauled ass back to the bunker, barely escaping with our lives. The general is still on duty, making sure that none of those dirty birds followed our tracks back to the safe house. “Ruse indeed,” he snorts as I meekly go about my duties.


  1. I want to live in that wood-paneled room!

  2. Great pictures -- you're a woman of many talents.

    BTW -- Bill gave me a thumbs-up on the fish fry. Tell J we'll see him there.

  3. I am glad you came back from the mission safe.

  4. Americans in the 30s called them "gats" or gangster slang for guns... I love smoked goose breast....

  5. Good job to the General! I was chased by a dang goose before. They are mean! I really enjoyed your "war" pictures! LOL

  6. I took the new camera with me just to goof off, but when we came across all those geese I had to make a story out of it. Even living right next to a river I've never seen that many in one place.

    Eryl - I hate that paneling! But Captain Clueless said I can't tear it down to redo the room until I finish the last two projects I started...

  7. Hi! I found you on the blog-o-sphere and thought your post was so cute :) Made me laugh.