A holiday tale: Baked goods

For this year's gifts, I made mint brownies.

Whether it was the minty cream cheese filling or the chocolate frosting with Andes pieces, the winterfresh bars were a hit. No complaints at Highlander, work, or Jen's baby shower.

I also tried a new recipe: peppermint bark brownies.

They were more fudgy and less cakey than the winterfresh bars, but the peppermint bark topping was nice and crunchy. It's also less work to make only one kind of batter and skip the frosting step. So each of the recipes has its appeal.

I dropped off a plate of peppermint bark brownies on the back step at my neighbor Jody's house. A couple of hours later, she called to ask what was in them: her dog, Harry, had eaten every single one. As well as the aluminum foil that covered the plate.

Even though chocolate is toxic for dogs, he was okay. Phew.

The next morning, I dropped off a plate of peppermint bark brownies on the back step at my neighbor Lori's house. She does not have a dog.

I received a card from Lori, thanking me for the gesture:

"A funny thing... I came home, saw the bag from a distance. As I got closer I saw cupcake holders on the ground. 'Something' got in the bag and ate the goodies. The plate and card remained. :)"

I'm glad it's the thought that counts, because cupcake liners littering your porch make a pretty lousy gift.

Harry and the squirrels must really like peppermint bark.

Animals 2, Naomi 0.

Oh no, Linus, not my purse.

I was at Michelle’s house a few weeks ago when Linus decided to explore my purse.

Looks like he got bored.

Yoshi also liked bags. (Do all cats?)

Speaking of bags: I'm glad to hear that SunChips is discontinuing their compostable bags. Those bags were just plain loud. And no one likes an indiscreet snack bag.

Regarding the mouse

Don’t get me wrong: I don’t want the mouse to have lots of siblings who hang out in my garage. But the sighting did make me wonder.

Addie showed me a book, Animal Speak, about how nature is woven into human life. According to the author, the mouse represents attention to detail.

As in: Am I lost in the trivial, or missing what’s in front of me, or scurrying around trying to do too many things at once?

I realize that blogging about a mouse while wondering if I'm missing the big picture might make the answer seem obvious. But really, maybe the mouse is trying to tell me something.

The mouse

On Saturday, I had to suddenly turn off my lawn mower to avoid running over a tiny mouse near the garage.

We made eye contact. (I think.) Perched like a butterball, he was decidedly not vermin-like.

I ran inside to get my camera and found him curled up on the lawn in the same spot. He was shy about photos, though, and finally disappeared into a hole near the fence.

Yesterday I was telling my neighbor Jody about the sighting when we saw something in the corner of her yard: Her cat had flipped a mouse (the mouse?) onto its back. Jody distracted her cat while the mouse wandered into the bushes.

A few minutes later, I opened the back gate to walk Papa. And there was a mouse (the mouse?). He was just standing in the middle of the walkway. Not trying to run or hide.

Jody came over, and we talked about whether he was the mouse. We agreed he was cute, and she ushered him out of the walkway, into a mass of overgrown chives.

I know that there is rarely one mouse, but I like to think I didn’t spot three in two days.

What would you have done? And no, I won't be like Luke and Linda's friend who made special cracker pizzas for his mouse.

Oh no, Mr. Tippy!

Hal has a rabbit named Peter Tippy. Here's how he describes him:

“The pads of his feet are gray, which makes him look like he’s wearing little slippers. He loves to eat dandelions.”

Mr. Tippy also seems to enjoy books and looking like an adorable butterball.

But do you see the gleam in his eye?

On a regular basis, he bites Hal — and only Hal. Why bite the hand that feeds (while being fed, no less)?

It's a mystery. Oh no, Mr Tippy.

Goodbye, Yoshi

Yoshi, my sister’s Siamese cat, died today. She had an asthma attack and got some cortisone shots at the vet, but she was 15 and maybe not looking forward to getting more shots.

In her heyday Yoshi loved many things: tuna, ice cream, apples, Twizzlers. She also enjoyed burrowing under blankets, hiding in boxes, and spending time at Camp Best Friend, where she could climb logs and hang out with staffers dressed in Bermuda shorts.

I got to know Yoshi when Yukie and I lived together in L.A. Though I'm more of a dog person, "Yoshinoya Beef Bowl" won me over with her friendliness and lack of pretense.

Of course she could be hard to read at times. After all, “meh” sounds a lot like “yeah.” But she was a good conversationalist and a good friend.

We’ll miss you, Yoshi.