The Guest Bedroom

When we moved in, the guest bedroom was filled with every tool a man could dream of owning.  Without the luxury of having a shop.  And then some.

Over time, and as the honey-do list became shorter, the tools made their way to the subterrainian man cave, and the guest bedroom began to take on a new look and feel.  My very mature childhood bedroom set was assembled, pictures and mirrors graced the walls, quilts and afghans rejected as gifts by their creator made the bed somewhat inviting.  Very inviting had you trekked here under great labor.

It is a room that looks out over the backyard, the beagle boys' primary outdoor dwelling.  From the bed, a portion of my clear-weather digs could be seen; it was one of their three perches, inadvertently established for the protection of their domain.  Often, when not outside with me, I could look up from my gardening and spy the boys intent on my every move; quite possibly, they seemed to be thinking, Mama will unearth something goooood!

When I did, it was never quite to their liking, until, of course it was cooked up with beef and gravy...but that's a story for another day.

Our unsuspecting inaugural guest wished us sweet dreams and closed the bedroom door while cracking the window a smidge.  She settled in for what promised to be a peace-filled and restful night, having, indeed, trekked to our home under great labor.

The sunshine awakened all but our guest.  The cherubs were silently pottied and fed, and then headed back to our bed to finish up their bladder-bowel-and-tummy-interrupted sleep.  Not one to squander sunshine, I silently snuck out the back door; there was too much to do to remain inside, and possibly awaken our guest.  Besides, prayer is best in the garden.

Looking up into the majestically framed beautiful blue, I began, "Father Go..." and was startled to hear "AAAAHHHHH!" coming from within the house.

Framed like a Norman Rockwell painting was one horribly dishevelled mop of hair sticking up from amidst six excited white tipped beagle tails.

She recovered, and Lloyd fixed the door, so it would, indeed, latch!

Thanksgiving

Preparing for thanksgiving is always alot of fun, at least the cooking/creating aspect of the food.  With beagles, you never really know what kind of help you'll get. 

One turkey day Seraphim was my number one helper.  Having set the table, complete with flatware, silverware, candles, napkins, water, butter, salt, pepper and all other things a guest could need after going through the buffet line, I returned to the kitchen for just one more thing and heard a tinkling-clanking, as though we were experiencing a minor earthquake.  I ran to the dining room, calling for my husband and found my angel-boy standing in the middle of the table sporting a quizzical look.

 "WHAT ARE YOU DOING!"  The stress of the day came out in those four words.

Had Seraphim been given to fear-piddling, all would have been lost.  So understand when I say it was my good fortune that he simply cocked his head and gave me a what-are-you-so-excited-about look.  Lloyd took care of the clean-up and resetting.

And telling all unsuspecting dinner guests, that yes, it is true; we do consider dog hair a condiment at our house!