Snowy Goes to College. (And Graduates.)

I know you’ve all been wondering, “Did Snowy really do it? Did he really succeed? Did he really graduate from college?”

The answers are “Yes,” “Yes,” and “Yes” again. And if you’re wondering what degree I received, it was my Bachelor’s Degree.

Um. A Bachelor’s Degree as in, “I am still a bachelor. I am still single.”

I must say though, that college is a tough place to stay a single man. Gabby Girl could hardly even concentrate on her studies, she was so distracted by my rugged good looks and fluffy physical prowess.

Think I’m kidding? Just take a gander at these pictures!

"Aw, shucks.

This is getting a little embarrassing. Look at the “cow eyes” she’s making at me.

I hate to break a girl’s heart, but I have to say that I’m looking for someone with a bit more motivation, a bit more drive, a bit more focus. I mean, look at her, for crying out loud! Does this look like the kind of woman with a lot of “get up and go?” Does this look like the kind of gal who is going to cook me three meals a day and keep my kennel clean? I think not. Sorry, Gabby. (Although, once again, I do applaud you for so diligently adhering to the College Rule of two paws on the rug at all times. Good job!)

So even though nothing really worked out between Gabby and me (hence my Bachelor’s Degree) I was still thankful she was there because when it came time for us to show everyone what we had learned at college, Gabby’s owner volunteered her to go first. (Thanks, Sarah, for not volunteering me. I would say I didn’t want to go first because I believe in “ladies first” but actually it’s because I wanted to see someone else go through her paces first so I would know what to do. I’m a strong leader, like that.)

Watching carefully.

Closely observing the technique.

Please take note of my complete mastery of the “two paw rule,” even while I’m focusing my immense mental powers on what’s going on in front of me.

And now Maggie is coming to the end of her test which is to demonstrate the “stay” command. I’m pulling for you, Maggie. I’m on my feet for you! You can do it, girl! (Sorry. Got a little carried away there. But the two paws are still remaining. Man, I’m good!)

And now? Now the professor is telling me it’s MY turn. I am one nervous fella.This one demonstration has the potential to decide my entire destiny as a professional man.

The professor starts by laying a treat down on the floor to see if I have the self control to ignore it when walking by. I don’t. I’m a lot like my mom that way. (Um. Did I just say that out loud?)

Looks like I won’t be passing THAT part of the test. Treats just call my name. Loudly. And I wouldn’t want to be rude and ignore them, now would I?

As I listen to instructions as to what to do next, please note how nicely I am sitting and how carefully I am listening. (I impress even myself.)

Showing off my lying down skills. Hey, when you’re good, you’re good.

Waiting for Sarah tell me to “Come!”

And for once (or twice) in my life, I obeyed. (Hey, there were girls in the room that needed to be impressed.)

Did I do good? Huh, huh?

Here are all of us college kids listening to the Prof’s last lecture.

Listening is exhausting work.

And finally? Finally, college comes to an end. It’s time to blow the joint. It’s time to take our degrees and go home. (Speaking of degrees, my mom says I should have gotten an award called, “Most Likely to Improve.” I think that she thinks that’s funny so I’ll humor her.)

However, before we take our little ol’ graduated selves and boogie on out of there, we have to first engage in a little happy talk and a little mingling.

And I have to apologize to Gabby for breaking her heart.

And now it really is time for us all to head out the door for the last time. Time to enter the real world. Time to send out resumes and get jobs. Time to take naps and lick ourselves in inappropriate places at inappropriate times.

Wait. What’s that? My Mom is asking everyone to come back into the room for a class picture? How embarrassing is that? What is it always MY mom who has to create a scene?

Come on back, guys. Er, girls. Let’s move it here!

Get goin’, Big Girl! (I mean, “Lovely Female Canine.”)

Alright! Everyone get lined up! I will be your example! Follow me! Everyone follow me, I say! Oh. Wait. I think I’m pointing the wrong end at the camera. How humiliating. Let me get turned around here.

Much better. Thanks, Sis.

Um. Hello, girls? Look over there! Quick! It’s something shiny!

Ah. Distract the competition. Be the only one posing. Life is good.

The Fastest (Peach) Dessert in the West

To continue our lovely dessert theme from my last post, here is a recipe I got from the wonderful Sue G. If you haven't been to her site and signed up to receive updates when she posts, you need to do so. Immediately. If not sooner. Now! Yesterday, even! (And even if she happens to not have a recent post up, go back and read her older posts. You’ll be glad you did.)

Sue is a fabulous writer and editor (she has helped edit several things for me) and a wonderful friend. She is also the person who gave (yes, gave!) a new camera to me when my old one broke. So every single picture you see on this blog is courtesy of Sue. I will never get over being overwhelmed by her generosity and friendship in many areas of life.

By the way--to those of you commented after my last post that pretzels are good in ice cream, as well as saltines, I agree with you, one thousand per cent! We used to go to a (now defunct) restaurant in Pennsylvania which served pretzel cones. All I can say about that is, "Oh my!"

Anyway, here's the recipe from Sue. We made it the other day and it turned out fabulously, even though a certain family member who shall remain nameless (I WILL tell you that she's fourteen years old and very pretty but I won't tell you her name) forgot to take it out of the oven. Even though it ended up baking for 90 minutes instead of 45 minutes, it was still good!

This recipe is especially great if you're in a hurry because you can have it in the oven in under five minutes. If you keep peaches and cake mix on hand, you’re good to go, anytime something quick (and unexpected) is called for.

Amazingly Fast and Delicious Peach Dessert

1 29 oz  can sliced peaches in light syrup
1 yellow cake mix
1 stick butter cut into 16 slices
(I tried using less butter, but it didn't work.)
thinner when spreading it around)
1 cup brown sugar (you can use less)
1/2 cup chopped walnuts or pecans (I only put nuts on half, since Sarah doesn’t like them

1. Spray 9x13 glass Pyrex dish lightly with Pam.
2.  Layer the ingredients starting with the peaches plus
the syrup. Cut the peaches into mixed bite size pieces .
3. Top with yellow cake mix (don't mix it together, just put the cake mix
over the top of the peaches and syrup)
4.  Dot with the pats of butter.
5. Sprinkle the brown sugar on top.
6. Sprinkle the nuts on top of the brown sugar.
7.  Put in oven!  And you’re done!  Now how fast was that?


Bake uncovered for about 40 minutes at 350. Best served warm (in huge bowls) with lots
of ice cream.

Real Estate and Life Changing Desserts

One week from today, I will turn forty-eight years old.

One week and two years from today, I will turn fifty years old.

Fifty is not old. But neither is fifty young. And I’m not quite sure I’m completely ready for fifty. Or even forty-eight.

But the alternative to having a birthday? The alternative to growing older? Not so great. So I shall continue to grow older as gracefully as I know how.

And in case you’re wondering how I’m going to celebrate my birthday week? Well, I have several doctor’s appointments lined up. (Never let it be said that this girl doesn’t know how to party.)

Today I’m going to a podiatrist to have a painful ingrown toe nail cut out. Doesn’t THAT sound like so much fun?

The good news is that the doctor’s office is only two blocks away from my favorite Goodwill store. Since I have to drive thirty minutes to get to the doctor anyway, I thought that it would be a horrific and egregious waste of time if I didn’t leave a little early for my appointment so that I could drop in at Goodwill on the way. I mean, I’m all about making good use of time invested and gas burned and since I would hate to be a poor steward of those things, it seems to me that I am actually almost obligated to go to Goodwill beforehand, just to justify the drive to the doctor! (Or at least that’s what I tell myself.)

Next week, I have my six-month diagnostic mammogram scheduled, as well as my six-month pulmonologist appointment. Nothin’ like turning forty-eight with a flourish!

On the happier side of things, Steve’s parents are arriving in town this weekend for a visit. (They haven’t even been inside our new house yet.) Also, very late on Saturday night, Nathan and Meagan will arrive from Florida to spend Spring Break with us. So I’ll have family in town on my birthday, which makes me happy enough to negate all the less-than-happy doctor appointments that are surrounding me.

And since I just mentioned our house, let me give you a quick update on where we stand with our housing situation. Since we changed realtors (about a month ago) we’ve had at least half a dozen showings, as opposed to a total of six or seven showings over the entire YEAR that we were with the other company. That’s the good news—more showings.

The bad news? None of the showings have resulted in anything--no requests for a second showing, no offers, no nothing.

About a month ago, we lowered our house to the rock bottom dollar but guess what? We’ve discovered that there appears to be a rock bottom price below rock bottom. (Amazing the things one learns when selling a house.) In other words, our rock bottom price was not low enough to compete with brand new houses in the area that can be purchased for the same price as our 15-year old house. (The main advantage of our house over a new one is that it is in an established, lovely neighborhood with mature trees and landscaping.)

And so we lowered it another $5,000 and if nothing happens in a week or two, we will lower it another $5,000. In other words, rock bottom is a relative term.

The reason we are getting so aggressive with this is that it has been on the market fifteen months already, and that is a long time. Also, we have several rather important deadlines looming, both of them hitting around April 30.

The first deadline is that our 6-month rent-to-own agreement will be up. We have $2000 worth of earnest money on the line, plus we have no idea if the owner will be willing to extend the contract. If not, we would have to move or somehow come up with a way to buy the house while still owning the other one. (Not extremely do-able.)

The second deadline is that if we can sell our other house and buy the one we’re in by April 30, we will get some sort of rebate of around $6500.

So can you tell we’re getting a bit anxious? A weensy bit antsy?

Because even though April 30 is still eight weeks away, as you well know, it takes a while for paperwork and closings and legal papers to all be arranged. So ideally, we need to sell the house THIS week. Or NEXT week. Um. Even today would be okay!

In closing, I’m sorry that I don’t have a plethora of fascinating, scintillating or even remotely interesting photos to post today. But I do have one picture. One picture that may look kind of strange to you. But trust me when I say that this little picture could change your life. Or at least, your dessert-eating life.

Do you know what you are looking at? No?

You are looking at ice cream. In a bowl.

Has your dessert-eating life changed yet? No?

Okay. Well, here’s the life changing part. In the ice cream . . . that’s in the bowl . . . . that’s on the counter . . . are saltine crackers! All scrunched up and crumbled up and stirred throughout the ice cream.

Yummiest thing imaginable. You have cold and creamy mixed with salty and crispy—all in one dessert.

So. Try it. And report back. Did you love it or hate it?

And now I’m off to Goodwill. (Yay!) And the podiatrist. (unYay!)

Catching Up

Wednesday, a new computer was delivered to our church by none other than Wyatt himself. Wyatt is the one responsible for all the creative headers you see on Sarah's site and has also been the most incredibly patient “computer question answer-er” for me through the years.

When it came time for the church to order a computer for the sound room, Steve highly recommended Wyatt and his company to the board who was making the decision. I must say that it's not not every day that the head of the computer company himself arrives to install a computer! (How often has Bill Gates ever installed a computer for someone?)

I’ve spent quite a bit of time over at the church since Wednesday’s installation, working on learning the new computer; I’ll spend much of today over there, as well, just trying to get everything figured out so all the media applications are up and running in time for service tomorrow. In this picture, we had to drag the 12-year old computer out again to look up a list we needed. I felt like quite the tech guru, with computers on all sides of me!

In other news, I mentioned yesterday that that Steve and I had our monthly lunch gathering with four other pastor couples in the area. The first month that we all met (at our house) everyone else—all nine of them, including my husband—wore dress pants or at least cotton, Docker-style pants. I was the only one to wear jeans.

When we met for lunch again this past week, I wore dress pants and everyone else—all nine of them, including my husband—wore jeans.

Hello?

Did I not get the memo? Was there a memo even sent? Have I found my new calling as a reverse style setter?

Sigh.

I think that for next month’s gathering, I will have a pair of pants custom made. One leg will be made from a dressy material and the other leg will be made from a jean material. (With my luck, everyone will show up at the lunch in formal wear.)

And speaking of clothes, I have a clothing-based annoyance I would love to share with you. And that annoyance is this I am not at ALL happy with whichever persnickety person in Paris it was who arbitrarily decided that skinny, peg legged pants should come back in style.

Not happy, at all.

I have finally found MY pant wearing style and it is boot cut (or other wider legged) styles of pants. And do you know why? Because a wider look at the bottom of the pant leg does wonders for balancing out the wider, er, bottom, in the middle part of my body! (Did you get all that?)

Do these Parisian People, these Hoity Toity Setters of Styles not realize that for me to put on a pair of skinny jeans would be one of the worst fashion faux paus ever imaginable? I don’t care if skinny jeans are stylish and I don’t care if I’m frightfully out of style for the next fifteen minutes. (Or forever however long this current “style” lasts.)

I’m going to cling with great devotion to my wider legged jeans and take solace in the fact that, even if I’m unfashionable, at least my bountiful bottom will be somewhat balanced out by the bountiful wideness of the pant opening at the bottom of my leg.

And that’s all I’m sayin’ about THAT.

In a few days, I’ll have the final edition of “Snowy Goes to College” posted. But for right now, here are a couple pictures of our college graduate the night after the last class. Doesn’t he look a lot smarter?

And now, a few words from the Comments Section.

Q. “Random” asked, “Is Snowy better behaved now than before he went to obedience school?

A. I don’t think it’s so much that he’s better behaved (because he’s never been terribly misbehaved); it’s more that we’ve learned to provide a little more structure for him and have learned some helpful commands to make it easier to “communicate” with our fluffy friend.

Q. Random also asked, “Will Sarah ever speak to the boy at school again?”

A. Yes, Sarah still likes talking to this fella; she just didn’t answer the phone when he called because I think she just got overwhelmed with nervousness. He actually wanted to invite her to his house for supper but we “encouraged” her to decline. She does like the thought of having friends who are boys although she can’t date until she’s at least sixteen. And since any boy who she does date will have to come to our house first for dinner and for lengthy interrogations, er, interviews, by her dad and me—well, she’ll be having boys who are just friends for a long time to come.

Q. And one more from Random, “What did you speak about to fifty young ladies?”

A. I spoke on “1.4 Million Peas” and “SLFFP.” (You had to be there.)

Q. Melinda Marie asked, “What program do you use to get the rounded pictures on your photos?”

A. When I update my blog, a lot of times I use a free download called, “Live Writer.” It’s a cool program that allows me to work on my blog when I’m not online. I can work for a while, save it and then come back and work some more. It also allows me to get all my pictures inserted and laid out correctly so that when I’m finally ready to publish, everything is completely ready to go.

Anyway, Live Writer offers the option of having pictures with rounded corners.

Q. Sue asked what “decorative” syrup I used in the brownie picture I posted a couple days ago.

A. Sue, it was chocolate syrup (Hershey) and caramel syrup all “smooshed” together. And it was yummy!

Schedules . . . .

Wednesday we had a new computer installed in the church which I need to quasi-master before Sunday morning, since it will be handling all the on-screen announcements and lyrics that I take care of of every week.

Yesterday, we had our monthly lunch with four other pastor couples in the area. Always fun. Always yummy.

Last night was Snowy's last day of college and he's an official college graduate. More about that later.

Also, last night the boy from school who asked for Sarah's number called her. She didn't answer.

Tonight I am speaking to fifty girls between 2nd and 8th grade so I'm finishing up studying and preparing for that.

Bottom line is that this blog entry will have to be short and (hopefully) sweet.

More later . . . .

Snowy Goes To College (Part 4)

(Note: Since Snowy has been to college for six weeks now, he wanted to try writing this edition all by himself.)

Last Thursday night, I gathered my family into the car and we headed out for my weekly college class.

I always stay very busy on the trip to school, protecting The Fam from any bad guys lurking in the vicinity and also, admiring the view. I just love being an Outer Banks dog. (Even though I’m afraid of the water. Um. Please forget I said that.)

When we got to the college, Sarah and I did a little browsing before class started.

I didn’t see anything I couldn’t live without until I spotted this sign. That sign was so me. I asked my Parental Units to buy it and put it on the back of the van next to Nathan’s Southeastern University sticker. For some reason, they refrained. Sigh. I guess they just don’t want to appear to be too boastful about my superior intellect.

Well, as we all know, all good things must come to an end and much sooner than I hoped for, it was time to stop shopping and time to start college-ing. I was the first student to enter the training room and I be-bopped in there like I was king of the world. (Which, as far as I know, I am.)

And then, I saw this. The Big Dude. The Big Bad Dude. All alone in the room. Without its owner. (Who is also my college teacher.) Just staring at me. Just waiting for me. Just licking its chops at the thought of me as a tasty pre-dinner snack.

I started experiencing a little, “Let’s run away from this bad dude” anxiety.

“Sister? Um, hello, Sister? Isn’t it about time for us to go home now? Please?”

Um. I know I’m a macho doggie and everything, but would you just protect me from that Big Bad Dude? (And I can’t believe I am asking a girl to protect me. A girl of all people!)

Oh good. There’s the teacher. Let me have a word with him.

“Excuse me, Mr.Teacher. Could we have a 'Teeny Dog is Afraid of the Very Large Dog' conference? Could I possibly Clep out of this course? Please? Or could you maybe ask the Big Dude to remove his Dude-ness to another room? Or something? Pretty please? I’m feeling intimidated, here.”

Um, wait! No! That isn’t what I had in mind. Not at all! You misunderstood me! You misunderstood me totally and irrefutably! I meant for you to take the Big Dude to another room. I do not recall asking you to take me closer to the Big Dude. Hello? Are you even listening to me down here?

Um. Wait. What is this I see as I approach the Big Dude? Do I see . . . can it be . . . do I see a flash of . . . um . . . pink?

No! It can’t be! It can’t possibly be! I have spent the last six weeks being freaked out by a girl! A GIRL? How utterly humiliating is that?

I have been calling a girl a Big Dude? How could I not have known? Oh, I am so embarrassed. Utterly downcast and disheartened. I wonder what the guys will have to say about this! Snowy is afraid of a girl! With pink toe-nails! Na-na-na-na-na. Oh, my life is so over.

But wait. It’s time to get a grip. It's time to focus. It’s time to settle down. I’ve got college to do. I am a college-going machine. I am definitely Harvard material. I am intelligent. I am sometimes even brilliant. I must listen to what the teacher is saying. I must put aside my public humiliation and concentrate my intellectual prowess on tonight’s lesson.

Now, I’m not meaning to brag or anything, but I do believe that I am the most gifted, the most focused student in the room. I mean, look at this dog! Does she look focused? Does she look brilliant? I think not.

However, I do have to admit that even while lolling around, she is still following our Official Dog College Rule of having at least two paws on the rug at all times, until asked to move. Good “paw placing," girlfriend!

And speaking of girlfriends, it greatly saddens me to have to report to you that Maggie (whom I was trying to court so that I could marry into her restaurant-owning, food-producing clan), was absent from this week's class. How in the world am I supposed to court a gal who doesn’t even have the courtesy to show up and be courted? Women!

Oh, wait a minute. Wait just one minute. Does it look to you like Gabby (and Sable, of the pink painted nails) are both looking me over? Look at the lovelorn look on Gabby’s face. What do you think it means? Where is Dear Abby when you need her? Abby, hello? Should I forget about Maggie and start working on Gabby? Do you think I should just forego initiating a relationship with Sable (of the pink painted nails) since I’ve spent the last six weeks being terrified of her? Do you think that sort of psychological barrier could stand in the way of a healthy relationship? Abby? Are you there? I’m feelin’ a little confused over here!

Wait a minute. The teacher is saying something. He is saying that I can’t spend the whole class period lookin’ at the ladies. It’s time to actually do something. Like actually learn.

How quaint is that?

Hold on ladies, I’ll be right back. I’ve got important work to do. And remember, the more college education I get, the better I’ll be able to provide for whichever one of you lucky girls I decide to choose.

Let’s get to work, Sister!

In this picture, I’m standing up very tall so that I can hear my teacher better. (And also, so that I can show off my amazing fluffy physique to the ladies!)

Um. Something tells me that THIS lady is not going to be too impressed with a physique consisting primarily of fluffiness. Would it be too forward of me to say that she is buff? Well, then I’ll say it. She is buff! (And incredibly well trained. And brilliant. And obedient. Really, a lot like me. Well, except for the pink toenails. Which I am quite sure she had done just for me.)

Please take note of the fact once again that whatever I do, wherever I go, Gabby can’t tear her eyes away from me. I’ve always affected women like that. I just can’t help it. It’s the fluffiness that draws them.

Hold on just a minute. Who gave the secret signal that it’s “meet and greet” time? I don’t believe I got that memo.

I’m not saying I’m shy or anything, but peering out from behind Sarah’s legs seems to be a really good place to be. There are just way too many women in this room.

Okay. Hold on. Wait just a doggone minute! What’s going on here? I can’t really say that I’m down with this sort of canine behavior. I think I’d better blow this joint before one of those ladies heads in my direction! Whoa. I just don’t think we know each other well enough for this sort of conversation. I am so. Out. Of Here.

The End.

__________________________________

The question was asked in the Comments Section if the metal piece on Steve's office wall was purchased at Big Lots. Actually, we got that at Bed, Bath, and Beyond.