Hack Proof Perhaps, Not Puppy Proof

There seems to be a lot of people getting hacked on Facebook recently. And while I can sympathize with their plight, there is a small part of me that feels kind of smug about my unhackable password. After all, I know better than to use “Password” as my password—at least since 2005. That smugness lasted until I got an e-mail notification from Microsoft saying that they had detected something “unusual” about a recent sign-in—suggesting that I verify that I had, in fact, been attempting to sign in from a new location. Specifically, trying to buy certain goods and services in Copenhagen. Which, Gentle Reader, I assure you I had NOT.

So, I went to my Microsoft account and went through the multiple verification steps to verify that I was me, continue to be me, and would like to change my password. I thought long and hard about what I would like my new password to be...Password123? PasswordXYZ? Something unhackable, something cool, something123XYZ...I spent a lot of time on my selection and I’m proud to tell you I came up with a hack proof password. Nobody is signing into my account!

Not even me, as I have spent the last 20 minutes trying to remember what my unhackable password IS. Which is a real bummer, as I met this totally cool Nigerian Prince on line and we seemed to really hit it off...

I am a RETRIEVER. Also a confetti maker.
I am a VERY GOOD GIRL.

In other news, Mexico is lovely this time of year. At least that’s what my kids tell me. I wouldn’t know, as I’m home puppy sitting my grand dog Millie. Millie is now a year old and as sweet as she can be. She’s very helpful and brings me all kinds of things I didn’t even know I had lost. And if I feel bad about all the used Kleenex she’s retrieved from the trash and turned into confetti, she’s right there to climb into my lap and comfort me.

Tis the—Which Season Now?

Tis the season, once again—and you know what that means.  

Wait—which season? It’s WAAAAAAY too early for Christmas, so it’s not that season, step back from the tinsel, put down the twinkle lights—your day is coming. Just not today.

It’s not Chicken Poo season, still a wee bit early to add chicken poo to the flower beds. Let Mother Nature cool off a little bit first or you will encourage new growth, only to see it nipped in the bud. Literally. And it’s still too early to dig up dahlias—or at least it is at my house. I like to dig my dahlias at the last possible second before they turn to slime.

Is it hunting season? Kind of, I guess, but not FULL ON SHOOT ELK season, so no—that’s not it. Elk for Everybody season starts locally next month. Good luck and be safe.

The frost is on the pumpkin--- so it’s Pumpkin Spice Everything Season? Well, technically yes, but that’s not the season I’m referring to. And—full disclosure here—the only things I like that are pumpkin spice are candles and pumpkin bread. Which allows me to simultaneously mock the “PUMPKIN SPICE EVERYTHING!!” people while looking forward the scent of pumpkin spice. Win/win, really. I have stocked up on pumpkin spice coffee creamer, because BEST MOM EVER.

The season I’m referencing is---drum roll please-- Rotate the Air in Your Tires Season! Truly. It is time to take the summer air out of your tires and put in winter air. Frankly, I’m surprised I even have to mention this. Now with temperatures dropping into the 30’s, summer air just won’t cut it. Go immediately to the nearest air compressor—I prefer the kind with an attendant attached, shout out to Packwood Chevron. Oh, sure I have my OWN air compressor but I prefer the professionally applied air—and add the necessary amount of winter air to bring your tires up to winter driving requirements.

Meme courtesy of the internet. And probably Al Gore.

Next week: Sue discusses blinker fluid levels. Probably.

It's Fall, Y'all!

Welcome to October---the most beautiful month of fall. Trees are trying on their fall finery, color blazing from every leaf; one last exhibition of exuberant extroversion before the quiet, inner contemplation of winter sets in. There was frost on my grass on the morning of October 1, and visible snow on the mountains two mornings before that. Frost in the morning means that soon zucchini season will come to an end—thank God-- and we can all go back to leaving our car doors unlocked when visiting friends with vegetable gardens.

I spent the middle of September in NYC, where summer was not going down with out a fight. The days were hot, the nights were warm and the humidity was---well, in a word, YUCKY. Fortunately, the showrooms where I spent most of my days were air-conditioned. We could crank the AC to “Arctic” and shiver. Which, as it turns out, was quite fitting for my assigned duties. Chief among them, hanging Christmas stockings and wrangling sheep.

Look at those faces!

Serta Sheep when not properly wrangled

When I returned home, fall had come to the Pacific Northwest. My grass was green, my marigolds were spectacular and THERE WAS NO ELK DAMAGE---HUZZAH!!! My neighbor sent me a welcome home text that included the message that I had missed the 100 elk herd that passed thru the neighborhood. Hah! I texted back, they missed me! I love my fence!

Hubris, I haz it.

Friday afternoon another neighbor sent me a picture text of my fence---in pieces.

The best defense?

Stupid dang elk. (Full disclosure: that’s not what I actually said) Fortunately, while they had managed to dismantle an entire corner and 50 feet or so of fencing, the actual damage was only one broken strand and a whole lot of tangling. A friend and I were able to fix the fence in under an hour.

Stupid dang elk.