New Potatoes

A few months ago I planted some potatoes in some old tyres. I wasn't really expecting much from them, as I planted them at the end of normal potato harvesting season. But as the potatoes had sprouted and I didn't really want to waste them, I planted them anyway.

Tonight the three plants were dug up. I was expecting small, crappy sized potatoes...both due to the fact they weren't proper 'seed potatoes' and the wrong season for them...

I was very surprised when Paul walked in with just under 2kg of potatoes. Which I thought was quite decent since I only planted three to begin with. Many of them were nice eating sizes, with a few tiny-taters amongst the lot.


One had broken open because Paul dropped it. One thing I really love is the smell of fresh raw potato. Very odd I think. I love the fresh earthy smell they give, it reminds me of just before it rains and the ground smells like it has opened up to receive the cool wet rain.

I love potatoes. :)

Nachos And New Experiences

I learnt something interesting tonight...

For dinner I made Nachos. As a child, my family had nachos often and I always thought that everyone would have tried them, at least once before. Especially when the said person is 28.

Obviously not.

As I was in the kitchen trying to cook with two dogs sitting there looking at me with big forlorn 'I'm a starving puppy, give me food' eyes, Paul told me he had never had nachos before. I was gob smacked. I couldn't believe he'd never eaten nachos before.


Its funny how when we assume something, someone or something just comes along and destroys that assumption. I'd love to say that I will stop assuming things, but unfortunately that's harder done than said. I think it tends to be human nature to assume things. Like I believe I can safely assume that the sun will rise tomorrow, or that the stop signs will still be painted red. But I think people [myself included] need to start learning not to assume anything about anyone.

Well that's enough from me with my current zombie infestation, it does not take long for my brain to be redevoured, and I am still tossing up if I should feed the doglets the left over bean mash from the nachos. I can't work out if I want to waste it or put up with doggy bean farts [if any].


PS. Paul loved the nachos ;)

A Peek Inside the MadDog House

My name is Rachel. I am a self confessed mad dog lady. My friends agree with me too. I seriously do not know how my partner Paul puts up with me and the dogs shenanigans. But then again, he has a serious fish tank obsession. We currently own 6 fish tanks of varying sizes from 300L to 15L and have two more coming soon.

Apart from my full time job as the resident crazy dog lady, I study at uni. Currently I'm in a Bachelor of Art in Australian Studies, but going to transfer to Bachelor of Sustainable Environments and then hopefully go on to to Vet Science.

My dogs are mad. They run around like crazed lunatics all the time and tend to eat us out of house and home with their 'poor starving puppy' mind tricks. They kill squeaky and fluffy toys with a vengence and are our patented junk mail shredders. They steal our bed and make it muddy and cover all of our clothes with a fine sprinkling of hair. I seriously think it will soon be come a fashion item [well it already is in dog circles!].

First up is Peggie. She is a 3.5 year old terrier cross, with staffy, maltese and silky in her. She belongs to Paul's mother but has adopted me. She is also the princess of the house . Very well behaved, to the point you can put kfc on the back seat with her and she won't scoff it. For a longish haired dog, suprisingly she sheds very little [compared to the white hairy dirt in the yard when Spot shed last].

And second is Spot. He is a 2.5 year old cattle dog X dalmatian. He's a second hand dog, aka a pound dog from Queanbayen in NSW that I rescued [without Paul's knowledge] at Christmas time 2008. Sometimes I wonder if I have the most badly behaved dog in Australia. He has eaten a list of things longer than my arm, and maybe one day I will compile a list. His most recent eating was of a potentially lethal dose dark chocolate which he stole from a closed drawer.

Our lives...well at least mine literally revolve around dogs. I hate going away if my furbabies cannot come with us, and usually I cannot stop thinking about them if we do go away without them. Nearly every weekend wind, rain or sun, hot or cold, we can be found down at a beach or oval trying to wear some of that limitless energy out of them. Which mind you, never works for more than 10 minutes. They may appear buggered in the car on the way home...we walk in the gate and they are racing around like lunatics again. I must work out the math behind it one day...

But anyway enough blahhing on from me, my crazy canines are wanting me to feed them...again