We really like it that our cats are mousers. Living in a 1924 farm cottage in open acerage in a cold spell as we are, we are bound to have a mouse in the house, or maybe two or three. So we do appreciate the cats' diligence and we have even come to accept that they will play with their prey. We do wish they wouldn't do so on our bed. While we are still in the bed. Sleeping.
We live on five acres shaped like a long skinny chocolate bar. On the back acres are trees and a meadow. This portion adjoins all the neighbors' trees and meadows. No one lives back there, but someone (we are still trying to figure out who) comes through all the parcels now-and-then with a brush hog. A brush hog, for you city-folk, is the Papa of all Lawn Mowers and easily cuts blackberries, shrubs and small trees. The brush hog path makes for a lovely walking trail that covers several acres, including a cedar grove full of mossy logs to walk on and slip off of, mushrooms to whack, birds to spot, and many secret nooks.
Today we took the children, the dogs, and our one adventuresome cat (the other kitty was doing her nails) on an outing to the back acres. We learned the joys and cautions of whacking branches with a stick, what nettles look like, and why one should pay close attention when Mama and Papa are warning one about nettles.
Yesterday we bought Juliana her first own dolly. She chose a soft pink newborn and it has been very fun to watch her coo and cuddle with it. Also yesterday, Andy climbed (with my help) his first tree. I boosted him up once and then set him to it. He was not able to get back in by himself, though he tried hard. He has good leg muscles, but no upper body strength. I am hoping to keep him trying the tree on a daily basis until he makes it.
We skipped naps yesterday and put them to bed a bit early and they awoke a bit late. It is nice to have this option, though I don't think I want to try it two days in a row.
The children are asleep and I have to choose between napping, showering, and blogging. Bye.
MarKuel Hotel, Khabarovsk, Russia
Local time: 4:41 pm Sunday, August 27th
Just got in from our first adventure. We set out from the hotel without a map or a clue, but we did take our handy picture chart for tourists. It is a pocket chart of icons for things commonly needed. We accosted a nice lady (she had a nice dog, so we knew she was nice) and pointed at the food section of our chart. She must have thought we were idiots as she pointed to the food kiosk across the street. Things don’t look like what we expect them to look like. Even when we know this, we still are surprised.
With our handy chart we bought our eggs and cheese and bread and butter and milk for the morning coffee. We paid and left without mishap: mission accomplished. We then made our way to the playground nearby where we ran into C and A and C.’s new little person. They showed us the bigger local store, right to next to this tall apartment building (utterly typical in upkeep and appearance, by the way).
They also pointed out the way to the more commercial area. We were happy to see a cute little garden along the way.
We find the pipes fascinating. Jamie says we need a UT crew to take a look at this elbow on this expansion loop setup. I think you have to be an NDE guy to fully appreciate the elbow. As Jamie works with pipes each day, he has a special appreciation for the miles and miles of piping and the time and care that goes into maintaining them.
Pretty kitty probably likes the pipes in the winter, as they are warm. She was so nappy she kept dozing off during her photo-shoot. 
We then found this lovely little pub that was empty, smoke-free, air-conditioned, and had dark beer. Budweiser, actually, the orginal Chekoslovakian sort.
Here we are, cool and relaxed.
We took some menu shots for your amusement and edification. The salad page is presented merely because we think it is amazing how many names they come up with for dishes that vary by only one ingredient. The “Hot Fish Dishes” page is presented because I think the fourth item, as punctuated, looks very labor-intensive. The German wine page is a riddle. Can you tell us the name that the first wine is sold under in the US? Let me know if you need a hint. (Click the pictures to make them bigger.)
On the walk home, we found this laundry out to dry, and a couple of kitties, 
as well as some cheerfully painted buildings.
No news yet. Nothing to post. Perhaps I'll chatter about our furkids.
Holly and Laurel are our dogs. Holly is a ten year old Akita mix (smart and willful) and Laurel is a Corgi/Fox mix. Okay, maybe not Fox, but she sure looks it. We picked Holly when she was a pup. Laurel picked Jamie. She was starving, scabies-laden, crusty and slimy when they met. I think her little guardian puppy angel -- ack the theological implications of that are atrocious, but I'm half-crazed with waiting, so we'll let it be -- anyway her guardian angel pointed out Jamie to her: "Him, he's the nicest one ever; he's the one you want." So Laurel whimpered and staggered her way over to him and that was that.
Dill and Parsley are our kitties. When Pickle, our 20 year cat, passed I swore I'd never love another kitty again. It just hurt so much when they leave. But nine days later Jamie heard of a kitten that really needed us and I told him fine, it would be his kitty. We named her Dill in honor of Pickle. And yes, I love her. She was lonely though, and needed her own kitten. So then there was Parsley. She is in my profile pic and is probably the sweetest kitty that ever lived.
Joy and Bliss are our geriatric house-rabbits. Yes, they use a litter box. Mostly. They are mini-Rexes which are bunnies bred by the evil fur trade to be the softest thing you will ever touch. I most heartily hope that when you get to touch one, the fur is on its original owner. We rescued them from a hot cage in a parking lot with no shade and no water. 
Alex and Betsy and Chester are our pygmy goats. Alex came to us first with his buddy Edgar (think Mariners 95). Edgar died and Alex went nutso with loneliness. Did you know that goat brains can either lead or follow but hanging around by themselves is not one of their options. They literally go crazy from the stress. (Hmmmm, sounds familar). So we found Betsy who was retiring from the breeder's life (She is a deluxo extra supremo grand champion descended on all sides from other deluxo supremo grand champions. She wanted me to tell you that.) and her wee son, Chester. So now we have a happy herd of three. Pics in goat post.
Egads. I'm done with the pet litany and still no news.
