Peanut Economics: Hoisting Sails with the Notorious Pirate of the Dark Seas, Captain Peanut MacPumpkin

Hello my friends. I suppose you must have been wondering what had become of me since it has been nearly a year since my last post. So many things have happened within that time, I could hardly put them all to words, but I can assure you there have been a great many adventures during that time which I will share with you. There have been a few hardships and with such, I felt I needed a change, which brought me to my first great adventure of last year.

Being a pup of particular distinction and refined tastes, I tended to migrate to certain circles of society, as was expected of my breeding. I found however, that the habits of my youth were beginning to weigh me down. The pageantry, the grooming, the fluffy bedding, the daily brushing of my locks....it all began to wear upon me like a river upon sandstone. Rather than fall victim to a well-manicured melancholy, I traded in my hat of ribbon and lace for one with skull and cross bones.

I heard the sea calling to me like the voice of my mommy, sharp and sweet. It knew my name, and heard the longing in my heart. Its voice was full of promises. It told me adventure awaited me. How could I resist it? How could I say no? I answered the call back with a resounding bark. 

One cannot imagine the liberation I felt when I first held the stinky, sweat stained felt hat between my paws. Oh the ports-of-call this hat must have seen, the battles, the swashing, the buckling! I knew as I placed its well-worn rim upon my head, my life would be changed forever......and it was.

Now granted, it took some time for me to adjust to the smell of my nifty not so new pirate hat. I could only wear it in spurts until I could stand the stench long enough to gather my crew and head for the open waters. The cases of Febreeze I went through! But hey....money can't buy authenticity. It also can't buy a good dry cleaning. Phew!

I could taste the salt upon the air as I gathered my scurvy crew and headed for my ship, the Black Bunny. Don't let the name fool you. She was a fearful ship, run by an equally fearful crew. We hoisted the mizzenmast (whatever that is) and set sail for the dark waters, straight over Davy Jones' locker. Why Davy keeps his locker so far out to sea is beyond me but I guess it is as safe a place for a locker as I could imagine.

Oh the tails I could tell you of our voyages. They were reckless, daring days. We played spin the rootbeer bottle. We ate our meat with our bare paws. We sang raunchy shanties like 'How much is that doggie in the window?" We drank until we couldn't hold our water any more. We were dogs, and we liked it!

Such joys were not to be mine forever. Mischief and mayhem were to rear their ugly head upon my vessel just as sure as the sun rises in the east. There was a certain first hand named Fluffles MacFarlain who was green with envy on account of my fluffy tail. It shivered her timbers every time I walked into a room or walked out of it for all cutthroats were sure to admire my tail on account of its fluffiness. Fluffles couldn't take the competition and soon hatched a plan to take everything from me.

I knew she was jealous, but I wasn't sure how bad things had gotten until I found myself looking over my shoulder at the drop of a hat. In my line of work, there were a lot of hats, and they were prone to drop with a frequency that caused my head to spin thanks to Fluffles and her jealous ways. 

I should have dropped the lot of them and gotten a whole new crew when my suspicions were raised, but I ignored my gutfeeling thinking I had a worm or something. It was my first big mistake. My second was eating a clearance bean burrito from the taco seller on an island in the Caribbean, but that has nothing to do with this tail. Just remember, fresh is best. Now, back to my woes.

We had taken on water when we had struck a reef or something hard and pokey. We were forced to set anchor near a small island we thought was deserted. While I oversaw the repairs, my mutineers were putting in place the final stages of their dastardly deed. I was my trusting, unsuspecting cutthroat captain self, believing my crew had my back. 

Their first step was to foul my anchor, and boy did they ever! I had seen what they had done to the begonia bushes in the colonies. I knew their handiwork anywhere. Begonia bushes are one thing. I mean sometimes a pup has got to go. But an anchor? Who fouls another dog's anchor? It went against the code. Yes, even we scurvy naves had a code amongst each other, or so I had been brought up to believe, yet here was my anchor proving otherwise.

A terrible fight ensued. I gave no quarter to my enemies; nor did I give a nickle or dime. They deserved no such monies from me. I hit them with everything I had, and knocked the wind from their sails. You should have seen me. It was glorious, but sadly, I was outnumbered and found myself cornered in the crow's nest. I was given two options - surrender my ship or DIE!

Oh the horror of it all. MUTINY!!!! Thy name is cursed! I looked for any face that might be a friend to me and found none, but I was determined they would not take the Black Bunny from me. 

Never would I surrender my ship. Not so long as I wore the captain's hat upon my head would I ever even consider giving my precious, my lovely....

Oh blast those stiff winds! 

As I watched my treacherous crew sail away with my beloved Black Bunny, I gave one last act of defiance. Though they may not see the full measure of it, they would feel it where it mattered most.....in their dark souls. As the ship disappeared over the horizon, I turned from the dark water to explore the island that was my new reality.

As it turns out, we landed on a resort island, and I was able to get a job as a cabana girl, serving iced drinks to tourists. I made really great tips and didn't have to do any swashing or buckling either! 

Sometimes it pays to be flexible.












If you enjoyed this post, don't forget to join the site on the right, and please share the post with your friends. Hugs and snuggles! Love, Peanut Pumpkin Pie

Peanut Economics: Rockin' N Rollin' With the Punches

Hi there friends! In 2013, I thought I would mix things up a bit and kick it old school in trying to find myself a means of employment. Last year's efforts were a bit of a let down, so I thought I would try out for something a little more traditional to help me bring home the bacon.

I decided I was going to join an 80's rocker band. It made perfect sense to me, and there seemed to be so many pluses to the career move. I made a mental list for myself to weigh all of the potential benefits.

1. Job security. You gotta figure, if a rocker hasn't disappeared into obscurity after twenty years or so, there's gotta be some kind of cool secret to their career longevity. 

2. Savings on hair grooming. Rockers NEVER cut their hair, or wash it very often, so I would save tons of money by not having to get groomed. There might be a small monetary offset on cans of hairspray and eyeliner, but hey, sometimes, it's a trade off.
3. Great singing talent is not necessarily a requirement. Apparently, when kicking it old school rocker style, the moniker 'if you can't sing good, sing loud' really can work for you.

The more I thought about it, the better I felt. I really thought I could do this. The big question though was what kind of rocker did I want to be? I tried to channel a little classic rock with Credence Clear Water Revival but found I didn't quite have the right sound for it.

Next, I gave my best rebel yell at the first white wedding I could find, but the ushers threw me out before I could even get to the chorus. Apparently, the guests were not a big fan of my rendition of Billy Idol.

I finally decided, if I was going to be a rocker, I needed to go all the way and commit myself to Rock And Roll All Nite! I kissed my good girl image goodbye and unleashed my Peanut Poison Pie...... rocker and roller of all things round and squeaky. Nothing could stand in my way!

I played HARD at all hours of the day and night.........the way a real rocker should.........and I didn't care what anybody said about it! Squeaka! Squeaka!

I even had the attitude going on....you know the one they say you hafta have as a celebrity rocker to help set you apart from everyone else?

I had the moves and the grooves on stage.....you know the kind that say 'look but you can't touch'....

They were great times, being on the road, unskinny bopping (whatever that means). It was what a Peanut Poison Pie rocker's life should be.....

But just as every rose has it's thorn, this rocker life of action was beginning to feel kind of empty for me, and I was starting to miss my mommy alot. She had always encouraged me to follow my dreams, but had always reminded me to stay true to myself in the process.

I realized as I squeaked my squeaky ball that life on the road as Peanut Poison Pie just wasn't for me. I liked being just plain old Peanut Pumpkin Pie, squeaking my ball with my nicely groomed hair.

I like being just plain me. I decided to hang my up hair and pass the flaming baton on to someone else.

It's not that there is anything wrong with being a rocker. It just wasn't a good fit for me. I guess I wasn't enough of a fallen angel. When the last song was sung and my shooting star landed, I picked up the phone and told my mommy I was coming home. I will always look back on my rocker days with fondness as a once-in-a-lifetime experience, but I will always be grateful for the decision I made to leave that rock and rollercoaster life behind.

It is so important to know who you are in your own heart; not based on how someone else defines you but on how you define yourself. People's opinions of you will come and go like the flashes from a pyrotechnic's flashpot. What you think of yourself is the thing that matters most. It is the opinion you will carry with you the rest of your life. As long as you know who you are and are happy with the person you see looking back at you in the mirror, nothing else matters.

Here's hoping that today when you look in the mirror, you love what you see. And don't forget to rock and roll with the punches!

Peanut Economics: Barking My Way to the Bigtop





Hello dear friends. I have been on a bit of a hiatus from my blog, but I am back with a new adventure! My summer was spent doing all sorts of fun things like barking at the birds, rolling on worms, and avoiding baths as much as possible. As Fall has been approaching however, I have once again shifted my focus back to finding another nifty odd job to help out the family.

 

This time around, I looked to the world of entertainment. There is nothing quite like bringing a smile to people's faces, and who is more adept at making you laugh than a clown. You guessed it friends; I decided to join the circus and become a clown.

I caught up with the Ringleader Brothers and Barnabas Bailey Cream circus to try my paw at the funnest job ever! I could feel the call of the open road. I could smell the funnel cakes and loose meat sandwiches, the hot dog stands and foot long french fries cooked in old grease. Yes sir-ee, it was the job for me.

The only catch was finding the right routine to dazzle the ring master and convince him I would be a great addition to his retinue of clowns. I decided to pull out all the stops and make myself as flexible as possible since there are so many different types of clowns in the world.

I practiced my sad clown face in honor of the great Emmit Kelly - a personal favorite of my beloved grammy.

I even tried my paw at being a scary clown like the ones featured in Stephen King novels and movies that my mommy won't let me watch.

Ultimately, however, I elected to go with a happy clown, since everybody loves a happy clown. Once I decided which clown I was going to be, I had to come up with a few acts which would catch the ring master's attention.

I had heard once that rubber chickens were really funny, and I thought it might be a good choice to incorporate in a fun clown routine. There was only one problem.....no one told me what I was supposed to do with the rubber chicken once I had him.

Apparently, nomming the rubber chicken and making it squeak like a little girl is not considered appropriate entertainment when you are a circus clown.

I made a similar mistake with a squeaky ball. I didn't know I was supposed to juggle it. The circus needs to publish a manual if they are going to be so persnickety about performance requirements.

Since I struck out with the rubber chicken and the squeaky ball, I knew I had to find a way to wow the ring master. I dug deep within myself and decided to break out into song. I belted out an Ethel Merman-styled version of "I Gotta Be Me."

I immediately followed it up with a jaunty rendition of "You Fill Up My Senses." My eyes were misty by the time I reached the end of it.

It seemed like the tides were finally turning in my favor......until we reached the topic of clown cars. There were no clown cars to be had anywhere. I had to settle for a clown wagon.

Somehow, it just didn't have the same comedic effect and wasn't quite as funny. It turns out, the wagon was strike number three against me.

When it came time for the ring master to offer his critique of my overall performance, he told me I wasn't the right fit for his circus.

The ring master said I took my job too seriously. Apparently, that is not an attractive quality in a circus clown. Go figure........

Well, it looks like the open  road will just have to wait for awhile. I may not have made a good clown in the eyes of that ring master, but it doesn't mean I wasn't a great clown. Sometimes others may not appreciate the talents we bring to the table, but it doesn't mean we aren't terrific.

 

It doesn't really matter what other people think about me. The thing that matters most is what I think of myself. I put my heart and soul into my performance, and I can be proud of that. I may not be a clown in the circus, but I can still bring joy to those around me. And who knows. Maybe there is another circus out there who appreciates a squeaky chicken nomming, show tune singing, wagon dragging clown. I'll look for that circus in the morning! Just remember, no matter what, I think you are terrific!

 

 

Peanut Economics - The Shiver Me Timbers of Finding Square Fish!

Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum raisin me maties! Shiver me timbers it has been a long time since my last post, but I have a mighty good excuse! I've been taking my fill of the salty sea air and trying my paw at commanding a vessel as a Gorton's fisherman.

Don't let the little duckies on my slicker fool you....it hasn't been all fun and ball games. Okay.... there were a few ball games, but even us crusty sailors need a break from time to time from the hard-driving grind of sea life.

At any rate ...... back to my salty fish tale. There I was, the great Captain McPeanut, tasked with finding a new source for the delectable flaky entree for the nummy blue and yellow Gorton's label .... but where does one find flaky square fish?

It was a challenge I was ready to take on, preservatives and all! Or my name wasn't Captain McPeanut!

My crew and I set off in search of a school of square fish. We searched high, and we searched low, but we could not seem to catch a break. I am ashamed to say at times, tempers flared a might warm, and I, as captain, barked a few orders now and then.....may the crew forgive me.

Finally, after weeks of sea and shame, AVAST! We caught our break. A crusty crab let loose he had spotted a school of fast moving square fish off the coast of Japan. We had nary a moment to lose. We set sail for the oriental seas, feeling as though fairer winds were behind us.

I knew when we arrived at our destination, we couldn't risk just dropping our nets and hoping a few square fish would happen into them. Oh no. I had to go the way of the great explorers like Jacques Cousteau who sought other elusive creatures in their natural habitat - creatures like the great white, the colossal squid, the loch-ness monster, the yeti, and the fair deal. I decided I had to step off my ship and go where the fish were, so I did the only thing I could do. I became a fish myself.

A hammerhead shark to be exact. It seemed a natural choice. They are always depicted as such happy fish with all those teeth. Always smiling. Always saying hello to all the other fish. Very sociable from everything I had ever seen.

I took my deep dive and started working my magic. I mingled. I charmed. I said hello to everyone. I talked about the weather. I wished each fish a good day. I asked after their mothers. The only problem was, every time I came near enough to ask any pointed questions about the square fish I was seeking, all of the other fish swam away in fright. As a matter of fact, no one would really talk to me, no matter how nice I was. Even though I smiled my best smile.

I felt so self conscious in fact, I went back to the ship without ever seeing a single square fish. And you know what I found out later? A big secret I wish I had known ahead of time. Sharks aren't really happy fish; they're scary fish! All those teeth are for EATING not SMILING! That's why no one would talk to me! They thought I was hungry, not happy. Boy did I feel silly!

You know what though? That's okay. I also found out the fish I was supposed to be looking for aren't naturally square, and they don't come breaded in the water. I wasn't supposed to be catching flaky, breaded, square fish filets. I was supposed to be catching real live fishies that are pretty and colorful, and I couldn't do that. (To be honest, I kept wondering how the breading on those square fish filets was supposed to keep from getting all soggy in the water anyways.)

So I guess I didn't make a very good fisherman, but I sure had fun shivering up those timbers. You know, you don't have to be the best at everything or even particularly great at most things as long as you can find joy in the things you do. Here's hoping you find your joy in the midst of your fish tales!