Betty look alikes and slipping into the Twilight Zone

First day on the job, I passed by her office and let my eyes glance covertly in her direction.
I had to look twice at her, carefully because no gal likes to be stared at. Yep, there is an uncanny resemblance. I let my eyes slide away from her and acted as if I never glanced in her direction.
Another Betty look alike.

Oh sure, this gal is attractive and that does catch my eye, but her profile reminds me of Betty. Straight on, she is just a pretty woman. And she seems nice.
Over the months that I have been here I have talked to her just a little, we say hello as we pass in the hallways. Maybe there is some resemblance from the front, but really it is the profile.
A lot of the people I work with do their work in the field, so I don’t see them all the time.

What is also amusing about my work is that I now work with another woman who resembles my twin sister a bit and another that resembles my sister-in-law. (more sound of her voice and how she speaks.) Oh, none of these are doppelgangers, it’s just that they have some resemblance.

Now if someday, the Betty look-alike pulls me to one side and says, “You know GW, I know a guy who looks very much like you.” That’s when I will know I have slipped into the Twilight Zone and I will start to worry.

I’m not saying we ought to misbehave

So last week, on my day off, we went next door to help Chemical Girl pack. Losing her house has been tough on her, and besides the help, she could use some company.
Later, while we were eating pizza, I thought I’d relate a story to her.

Years ago, one of my work friends was going to move. I wasn’t sure when and was a bit surprised when, as he was talking to a bunch of us guys, that he said he moved over the weekend.
“ Everett, I didn’t know it was last weekend. I kinda expected you to ask me for some help.”
“Oh, I didn’t know you wanted to help.”
“Sure, but I would have had to go to the adult store first.”
He gave me a puzzled look. “Why?”
“Well, I thought it would be funny to buy a big dildo. When I got to your place, I would roll it under the bedroom dresser. Then, when a couple of the other guys moved the dresser and discovered it, you would have some explaining to do!”
Everybody busted up laughing, but Everett just got a worried look on his face, “You would really do that to me?”
“Oh, probably not; but I thought of it!”

Wonder-Girl and Chemical Girl thought the story was funny.
And I reassured CG that no, I would not do that to her.
I hope she isn’t worried.

Guilt

My neighbor just lost her house. Breaking up with her S.O. and then losing her job took its toll. Add in the housing bubble bursting and she was underwater with a house she could no longer afford, nor sell. While she was trying to renegotiate her loan and avoid the foreclosure, the bank sold her home.
Yesterday I found out what the new owner paid for it and I feel bad. The house sold for a mere $236,000.
It has now occurred to me that despite not even having my job for a year, I probably could have qualified for a loan, bought her house and rented it back to her. Then, some years down the road, after she has repaired her credit, she could buy it back. (WG thought the same thing. After all, we own our home completely, and our cars.)
Now I feel guilty about not helping her. Yeah, I can just hear my friend FL saying, ‘Why do guys feel the need to always rescue a gal?’
It’s just who we are, I guess. If a gal feels some need for security and protection, it just fits that us guys feel some need to protect and provide security. It’s not a major force, but it is there.
It’s that entire ‘Damsel in Distress, Knight in Shining Armor’ thing. Sure, bothersome at times, but if a gal does need rescuing; it’s nice that there can be someone there to rescue her.
So sure, I would be ‘rescuing’ my neighbor. However, she’s a nice gal and both WG and I like her. Good neighbors can be hard to find. (Yeah, the dogs love her too.)
I would never want to be a landlord, I dislike being in charge, but being CG’s landlord would be fairly easy. Oh sure, there would be complications. I couldn’t charge her too high a rent. It’s one of the rules; a KiSA does not take advantage of a DiD. It would be rude.
I would have to play down the ‘you owe me big time’. I could tease her once in a while, but I have seen the look of horror creep over a woman’s face when she realizes that she owes me.
A KiSA should not give women nightmares!

There have been a number of occasions where I was the KiSA. Yeah, an average looking guy in a ’73 Valiant would never qualify as Prince Charming on a white horse; but I was there when a KiSA was needed. Fixed the problem, got a nice thank you and was on my way. (Yes ladies, despite some nasty stories, all we really want is to help and receive a nice thank you. We are happy to help, because that’s what we are supposed to do.)

And now I realize that I might have missed this one and it was a big one.

(PS- Yes, we can argue for hours, the semantic difference between rescuing and helping. Some other day.)

(PPS – maybe that’s why some of my independent, female friends have trouble finding someone, they don’t need rescuing. I guess some guys can’t handle that. But that’s a discussion for a later date.)

Cross Country

What if there was a huge disaster that wiped out eighty percent, or more, of the human population? What would you do? Where would you go?
As a fan of ‘end of the world’ type stories, I have often thought of this and wondered what I would do.
That brings up a special term I have for a few people. “I would travel cross country to find you.”
Imagine the desolation of your country. Roaming packs of starving dogs. Roaming bands of lunatic people. Gangs of despicable people. Religious fanatics.
Yes, for some people, I would travel cross-country to find them. Family, and some friends.
I know that to some of you, the whole idea is frightening. So be it.
But there is another frightening aspect to this. There are people I know that I would not want coming to look for me! More acquaintances and co-workers than friends. But none the less, people whom I would rather avoid.
“I guess you are nice enough, but I would rather travel three thousand miles through a hell infested wasteland to look for someone who might be alive, than be with you.”
Hmmm…I guess it’s better than; ‘Well, maybe if you were the last woman on earth.’ I just want to go see if the second to that last woman on earth is still alive.

There are only a handful of people, for whom ‘I would travel cross-country to find you.’ applies.
And I am sorry, but as fond as I am of you, attempting to pilot a yacht or 275 foot Coast Guard cutter across the Pacific to find you is beyond my skills. (Not that I have ever thought of it, despite the fact that the cutters are only twenty miles from here and they have a range of 6,000 miles. :-)

Time is tight

So, I have been working again for just over six months now and could not understand why I have no time for anything. Get home, eat, play with the dogs, talk to my wife. A bit of TV and then off to sleep.
I used to get home from work, work on a project, write a bit; then the rest of the stuff. Now, there is no time.
I puzzled about this for a while and then it dawned on me what was different, I go to work.
Back in 2005, I was working three days in the office, two at home. That morphed to the point that during my last few years, it was four at home, one in the office. That gave me an extra two hours at home and a later bedtime.
So now, time is tight.
Early to rise, early to bed, makes a man healthy, wealthy and dead. Sigh.
And just give up things.

I really shouldn’t give this up.

Black Coffee

It’s just after seven and as usual, I am awake. When I first got laid off, I would sleep in till eight or so. There was no reason to get up early. Yeah, I know, talk to the dogs. They will tell you that I should be up on time and take them for their walk.
Over this last year, despite not having to get up, I started getting up early. I am basically a night person and I have the unique ability to ignore noise on a Saturday morning and sleep in.
Now, I wake up between six and seven and get right up. It’s almost against my religion to get up so early, especially when I don’t have to. Sigh, so here I am, sitting at the kitchen table of my brother’s house. He and his nice wife seem sound asleep and I have to figure out a strange kitchen.
I managed to find the coffee and make a small pot. Soon that magic herbal remedy will infuse me with wonderful chemicals and I will wake up enough to realize that I should have stayed in bed.
There is no sugar in the house! Yeah, yeah, I know from past visits that they usually don’t have sugar on hand. Yeah, I should have brought some from the hotel, but I didn’t. Oh, I could go searching through the kitchen cabinets, but I just don’t like looking through other people’s cabinets, even if it is perfectly okay.
There was a half-packet of sweetener on the microwave and I used that to sweeten my first cup. I know there is more, but I won’t search.
So I will sip the strong, bitter liquid and slowly wake up.

I wonder if the rats in the walls have quieted down? Someone just knocked on the door leading to the garage. I hear creaking footsteps.
There is storm blowing outside and it makes the house creak in different ways than my house, so I notice them.
A walk right now would be good, I haven’t gone for a walk all week. However, it’s raining and I don’t have any rain gear. So it’s sit inside and listen to the house creak and the wind blow.
And wait for my brother and his family to wake up and start the day.

Inappropriate Toy

Most of the toys from my dad’s collection are the usual things, Marx cars, Tootsietoys, model airplanes, etc.
But there is one toy that, while it may have been funny in the fifties or sixties, in light of the recent scandals; it is no longer amusing.
It’s called ‘The Merry Monk’ with fun raising action.

Watch the video.

I am just not comfortable selling it, but I am curious as to what it is worth.

One of a kind Ol Yeller Fire Truck

One of the interesting things in my dad’s toy collection, is a late fifties, early sixties, yellow peddle car. It’s a fire truck with ‘Roseville Fire Department’ on the sides.

As you can see from the pictures, it’s a Hamilton Steel Products fire truck, built on a jeep chassis. The odd thing is, it is yellow. My research guy has started looking into this and has found that Hamilton only made red and blue fire trucks.
So my research guy has started contacting fire departments.
It looks like Hamilton might have made a yellow fire truck for the Roseville, Michigan Fire Department. The local fire chief may have a picture of this car on display, years ago, in the firehouse. With any luck, he can find the picture and send us a copy.

Someone at the Roseville, California fire department also emailed him, saying that they remembered a yellow fire truck. They are checking with some of their ‘old timers’.

It will be interesting to see what the rest of the research leads to and ‘how one of a kind’ this peddle car turns out to be.

If it truly is one of a kind, the value increases.

Addendum - Feb 2.

It's nice when experts give you the value of their experience. My research guy has found out that the front and rear ornaments are not standard on the Hamilton trucks (which is what we figured). Also, the hose reel is non-standard. Further checking revealed that the lettering is vinyl. Though the yellow paint is the only paint, there is a little bit of red over spray by one of the peddles.
So, we figure that someone(possible who worked for one of the fire departments), took a red Jeep fire truck, stripped the paint off and had it repainted in yellow.
It's still a good looking truck.

Wifey Ear

Years ago, a coworker was trying to get my attention from across the aisle. Exasperated, he finally raised his voice and said, “GW!”
“Yes?”
“Stop using your ‘Wifey ear’.


So, I went in to have my hearing checked last week because I have been noticing greater difficulty hearing some people, particularly my wife.

I fully expected the Audiologist to come back into the room after the test and say, “Your hearing is fine.” Whack me on the arm and say, “So pay better attention to your wife!”
But alas, it turns out I have lost some hearing in the higher frequencies. (Yes I know, it comes with age.) The Audiologist explained that this type of loss makes it harder to hear women and children, since their voices are usually at a higher pitch. This explains a lot, since Wonder-Girl has a soft female voice. There have been many times when she answers the phone and the person on the other end asks if her mommy is home.
This also explains how easy it is for other noises to drown out WG’s voice.

The Audiologist said that I should consider hearing aids. (Thank goodness my young female friends in the Philippines don’t read this. They already tease me about being old!)
So I’ll consider hearing aids and look into the types and price (shudder)

But maybe there is a bright side. I might as well go back to my old habit of staring at women’s chests, especially since there is no point in trying to listen to them anymore:-)
(Gosh, there must be some kind of witty tee-shirt slogan I can make.)

Merry Christmas

Back in mid-November, I applied to company A. As with most resumes and applications I have filled in and sent out over the last nine months, I didn’t really expect a response. Partly because few companies acknowledge you, partly because it was different from what I had been doing for the last twenty-seven years. Different, but similar enough that it sounded interesting and possibly fun.
I was surprised to get a phone call a week later and I had a very nice phone interview with a pleasant woman. She invited me in for an in-person interview at the end of the week! I had only had one in-person interview during my long job search.
The interview went well and I liked the two people that interviewed me.
But alas, the following Monday, one of them called to say that despite how well the interview went, they found someone who was a better fit. (sigh)

The following day, a friend of mine called to say their company B was looking for an Analyst, was I interested?
Of course!
Long story short, the job matched most of what I can do and there would be new challenges. The phone and in-person interviews went well and I was quite excited. I tried to keep my enthusiasm in check, since I would have to wait two weeks for the owner to return from his buying trip. I was not worried, because of how well things went.
Then company A called up. The applicant they made an offer to withdrew their name and would I be willing to accept an offer for the job? (do bears shit in the woods?)
They asked if I could let them know in a few day. I told them I would let them know by the end of the day.
For the jobs were similar in pay and benefits. Company A was slightly better, but a little longer commute. Company A was not involved in manufacturing and had more chances for advancement.
AND, a bird in the hand is better than one in the bush. So I accepted their offer.

Hard to believe that after nine months of looking, I will soon be working and not be ‘a man of unfortunate leisure’.

Truly a nice Christmas present.

Fat Pants

Back in October, after eight months of job searching, I actually had a phone interview. That went well and I was asked to come in for an in-person interview! I was excited until I got out my new slacks and found that they didn’t fit!
Back in March, when I was laid off, we went shopping for some new slacks. My old ones were just too tight. Since I have been slowly gaining weight over the years, I threw out all my old slacks.
Months went by, we worked on the bricks and stones in front, and other projects. I stopped eating cookies for lunch because one does have to cut back expenses. We started taking Molly for a second, longer walk.
Over time, I began having trouble keeping my jeans up, even my old, tight, raggedy ones. I thought about getting suspenders because a belt just wasn’t working.
So by the time I went on the first job interview, I had lost twenty pounds! No wonder my pants were not fitting.
We went shopping a week later and bought more slacks, but with a smaller waistband.
The job was not offered to me and I continued to look.
I have been on an interview to another company, though it did not result in a job; but at least I looked better.
Tomorrow I have a very promising interview and I am looking forward to it.

So I think things are looking up, since I am at least going on more face to face interviews. And I am ready for the future, for I have stored my fat-pants in with my summer clothes. For I know that part of the reason for losing the weight is that I no longer sit on my butt for eight hours a day.
If I get the job there will be no more extra Molly walks and I will be sitting for hours a day.
I guess I can live without cookies for lunch.

Women still want me

We broke up the concrete walkway this week and there is now a nice dirt path to the front door. Next week we will get things ready to pour a new concrete pad. Then it will be laying bricks and the bluestone pavers.
And it will start, the young moms and dads will comment on the progress, as they walk their kids to and from school. It’s nice to hear compliments on your work.
The last time we were working on a front yard project, a young mom from two doors down stopped by chat. She said she had to see what we were doing and how far we had progressed.
“Looks very nice.” She said. “When you are done, you can come over to my house and work on my backyard!”
I turned and looked at her cheerful smile and cute figure. I smiled back. “Oh, not for all the tea in China.” I said in my most cheerful voice. She laughed.
Two days later, a young, good-looking blonde stopped to look and then said. “Oh, when you are done here, you can come work on my front yard!”
I looked at her and her two little daughters. “Oh, I don’t think so.” I said with a nice smile on my face.
Yeah, the blonde was a cutie; but cute just doesn’t cut the mustard. I now know what it’s like working on your knees for hours. Not for lust or money!
Love and the satisfaction of doing a good job yourself, yes.

American. Air Cadets Official Construction Kits

American. Air Cadets Official Construction Kits
Featherweight flying model. Rubber band powered.
Made by the A.A.C. Supply Company, Iowa City, Iowa.

Since there is a dearth of information on this subject, I thought I would write up what I know.

In my late father’s collection of toys, I have seven primitive balsa kits from the 30’s. I have done a lot of searching and there is almost no information on them on the world wide web.

What is also interesting about them is how primitive they are, compared to airplane kits made in the forties and beyond. Each box has sheets, blocks and strips of balsa wood. If you were to attempt to build one, you are expected to take the quarter scale plans and redraw them to full size. You have to carve the propeller from a block of balsa. All in all, a rather complex construction project for an amateur.
The kit does come complete with glue and what might be a vial of banana oil. The banana oil, when thinned with acetone, is supposed to make a good dope. The other option is to use ‘dope’ the “Jap tissue paper” (what we now call silk-span) with a flour and water paste.

I know of eight different models that they made-
Eaglerock Bullet
Curtiss Robin
Red Bird
Fokker
Spirit of St. Louis
Travel Air
R.O.G. Racer
Endurance Tractor

I did find tiny bits of info on www.rcuniverse.com and www.rcgroups.com. (I edited them slightly)

“The American Air Cadets was an organization formed in the late 1930's to encourage young people to become involved in aeronautics.
All such organizations try to get prominent personalities associated with there operation. Strangely enough the Cadets got the noted conductor Leopold Stowkowski (Fantasia and other films involving classical music) to endorse them!!
The Cadets commissioned a series of models of increasing complexity to be built as one advanced through their program.
The Air Cadets made little or no impact on the direction of aero modeling.
All this is from memory and I am unaware of any printed sources.”
Richard Smith
--
“This was one of the groups to form (and fail) in the Mid-west of the USA. They often began with some simple rubber powered plan to which you ordered from some location, got a membership card, and a few other things, and were ordered to complete the model and take to... for some contest.
If enough juniors showed up, the club went on, if not they went to some other location tried there or went out of business.
The Jimmy Allen group was only one to survive for a while.

Wm.
--
The Rotarian - Nov 1930 – (Google Books Result)
64 pages - Magazine
Sponsor Air Cadets Peekskill, NY — Directors of the Peekskill Rotary Club have voted to sponsor the American Air Cadets, an organization fostering boys' interests in aviation.

----------
So, perhaps they are just one little footnote in model making history and I have seven small pieces.

GW

Wise Uncle Warty might give bogus advice

I have found myself in an odd position recently. Several of my female friends, (I don’t like ‘lady friends or ‘girl friends’ simply because there can be misunderstandings.) have had mangled breakups with their boyfriends and written about it online. So I, being nicely married for decades, have offered sage advice and support. Mostly I remind them that they are smart, personable young pretties, but also to let them know that the right guy is out there. I try to help them look forward to what might be and not to keep looking back at the heartless bastards that they pine for.
It amuses me somewhat and I have to check what I say. For my history is one of not even looking for the right woman and finding her. Sure, it took some time for Wonder-Girl to realize that I was an okay fellow; but I think that is one of the things that made everything work. With neither of us trying, we became friends first.

These young women are my friends and I would so like to see them find a good man and be happy. So I have to be careful when consoling them. Remind them to keep their eyes open and that there are good guys out there who will appreciate them for who they are.
After all, I like them, so others must also.

And there is a nagging feeling that I might have been able to help Pip.

Finding Pip

I hadn’t looked for Pip in a while.(I wrote about my online sleuthing several times) I kinda gave up looking for her since she obviously didn’t want to be found. But I kept thinking about her as another typhoon slammed into the Philippines. Most of my Pi friends are on the island of Cebu and I did not have to worry about them. But Pip lived near Manila and I was concerned. So I tried a few searches and found a note about her. She was still around Manila. So on a lark, I looked on Facebook. Right away her picture popped up! It sure made me smile to see her face again. I clicked the ‘friend’ button and waited. I got her response in a few hours and she sent me a hello message.
It’s so nice to find a lost friend again.
She explained that someone she trusted betrayed her, so she went hermit and wiped out her online persona (mostly). She was sorry and promised never to vanish again, at least not without saying bye.
And now I will patiently wait to catch her on IM and chat again. We have always had fun conversations. She is a smart young lady and always fun to chat with, either online or in person.

And I find it amusing how I have these good friends in faraway places. Newport RI, Darwin, Cebu City, Manila. We are always happy to get letters from each other, keeping in touch. The hard part is knowing that I will probably never see them again. The odds of me getting back to the Philippine, much less Australia, are pretty slim.
Still, it’s nice to have these friendships.

A Gentleman, mostly.

One of my friends(a sweet young thing) made a comment online about what other people might do when taking a bath. Being a gentleman, I only made a silly comment. Then some guy we know made a comment about her lathering herself up and singing ‘Loving you’, as her hands traveled down under. I was shocked he said that, for I never would.
And I really didn’t need that image, nor go down that slippery soap.
But there it is in my mind, her tawny, nubile body; and her slim fingers tracing circles through the white soapsuds…

A thoroughly delightful image. But of course, one that I would never share with her. Why ruin her image of me as a gentleman? She does not need to know about the ‘mostly’.

Righting -again

More terrible puns of mine

“I won’t go into that optometrist shop.” She said. “They don’t carry this style anymore.”
“So, you won’t go there because you won’t get respect?”

They stood there, surveying their damaged house. The earthquake had totally destroyed it. She turned towards the makeshift shelter he had erected. It was just an army surplus canvas tent that he bought on sale two years ago.
The first storm of the season began to rain on them as his wife ducked into the shelter.
“This will never do!” She exclaimed. “There are holes everywhere and the wind blows right through.
He sighed and looked up at the clouds and said wearily. “Now is the winter of our discount tent.”

When the defendant came up for trial, the judge said. “We shall know the truth, and the shall set your fee.”

Then there was the guy who kept annoying this prostitute that hung out near his apartment. They arrested him of course, for disturbing the piece.

If a scientist copies another scientist genetically engineered disease and then releases it to infect people, would he be accused of plague-arism?

A gorgeous woman lies in a hospital, in the final stages of TB. As she hacks and coughs, one has to wonder if she can now be considered a Phlegm fatale?

In France, the race car drivers are all upset about health insurance. It seems that most companies are denying them coverage. They claim that the drivers have a Prix-existing condition.

In a small town out west, the train pulls into the station and one man gets off. As he walks down the main street, the townspeople stop and stare, some pull children inside.
In front of one building stands an older man, black bag in his hands. Above him, a sign reads, ‘Dr. Rawlings, Specialist in Rheumatoid arthritis’
The young man stops and Dr Rawlings looks him over. “So, you’re the new doctor? And an arthritis specialist? You might as well get back on the train young man. As I told you in my telegram, there isn’t Rheum enough in this town for the two of us.”


If a ghost leaves a smelly residue, would it be a poulter-gas?

“Pumas are very shy creatures with low self-esteem and you don’t see them often.” The guide explained.
“Why is that?” The hunter asked.
“Well, as near as we can tell, as they are growing up, their mothers always tell them that they catamount to much.”

So, there is this group of lesbians sitting at an English pub. One of them is talking about her last relationship that went sour.
“You know, sometimes I don’t think there is a woman out there for me. Maybe I should try a man?”
Here friends are shocked, of course; but one of them supports her and says.
“What the heck, go for Bloke.”

Of course, if a gay man were to date women, he would be broadening his horizons!

As Grandpa used to say, “I’ve become a believer in old wives tails.”

“You know honey, I think that I was always meant to be your wife.”
“Well, I guess I’ve grown accustomed to your fate.”

Well, it seems that the triplet convention is not going to have their convention at Yosemite National Forest again. Everyone complained that they couldn’t see the forest for the three’s.

“Do you like deer?”
“I’m fawned of them.”

“I don’t like palm trees.” She declared, “Their leaves are so messy.”
“Your not frond of them?”

Limericks

Here are a few of my attempts at Limericks.
Elly was the only one who didn’t like hers.

A comely young lass named Trace
Kept her suitors at bay with mace.
But a man named Phil
Had a strong will,
and the marriage is soon to take place.


The was a young woman named Lois
Who pretended never to know us
For if she gave us strong drink
We’d throw up in her sink
And straight to the door she would show us


The was a young man named Matt
Who claimed to know where it was at
But when she darkened the room
He got lost in the gloom
And somehow molested the cat.


There once was a gal named Elly,
Who claimed that her feet weren’t smelly.
But it seemed her nose,
Lacked a gene to smell toes.
For their reek could turn a strong belly.


Miss Silver, whom we called Steph.
Had the boys all out of breath.
For try as they might,
from morning till night.,
they couldn’t find a word that rhymed with Silver.

Cousin, Cuisine

A few months back, we had a little gathering at Auntie’s. There were several generations present and at one point someone tried to figure out the family tree of the cousins. I pointed out that the different generations were counted as ‘removals’. And that contrary to popular belief, ‘removal’ did not refer to how many times a person had been kicked out of the family.
“Then what’s a ‘kissing cousin’?” Someone asked.
“That’s a cousin you wouldn’t mind kissing.” I answered.
“Then what’s a second cousin?” Someone else asked.
“That’s a cousin that you wouldn’t mind having seconds of!”
A couple of guys laughed at that; WG just hit me on the arm.

The conversation was quickly changed to the weather and I almost brought up ‘relative humidity’; but I knew they would not want to hear about the time the cousin got moist.

Even silver linings have a cloud

It’s the first rain of the season. Instead of the usual little storm with light rain, we are being pounded! High winds are making the rain blow sideways and half of our covered deck is wet.
We are safe inside, where it is warm; but silly Molly is on the back deck. It’s not that cold, but she is curled up on the wicker love seat, shivering. She won’t come in because WG was mean to her. WG baked cookies today; snicker-doodles.
Late last year, we bought a new oven. It has a fancy electronic control panel that beeps when you turn on the oven. The first time we used it was to bake a roast. Some fat splattered out, burned and set off the smoke alarm.
Molly did not like the scream of the smoke alarm and she made for the back door and stood there trembling. We let her out and she would not come in for hours!
So now, every time we turn on the oven, the beep warns Molly and she goes to the back door, waiting to be let out. She will not come in until the oven has been off for a while.
Silly dog.
And I have homemade cookies!