Sharks and vomit

Boy, howdy...it must be the beginning of the end.  I just saw vomit and treasure in the same sentence on the internet--specifically fossilized whale vomit treasure.  Whoa.  Guess it's just a little early in the morning for me to think in those terms.  Hats off to the boy who found it and ewwwww......keep it over there even if it is a rock.  Treasure vomit??  I don't think so.

A couple of nights ago I started the book Unbroken and it is fascinating read.  It tells the story of Louis Zamperini's life and though I'm only about a third of the way into it, it's a real page flipper.  I'm currently riding shotgun with him as a bombardier and general jack of all trades in a bomber that's like" sitting on the front porch and flying the house".  More crews died flying the damn plane and crashing it than were actually shot down.  It was very unwieldy and was called "the flying coffin".  Nice.  Since my dad was a tail gunner on a bomber, this is like hearing stories right out of my dad's mouth.  It was suggested as a great read by Bruce's cousin, AB, and she should know as she's read everything out there worth reading.  I may hide this afternoon and try to get further along, since I know what's coming and it's going to be harrowing.  Think Tom Hanks on that hand made raft, floating for days in the ocean with sharks circling you and the sun beating down...and your thirsty....and hungry....and it's only a matter of time before the Jap Zero's find you, and fill you full of lead.  See??  Hair raising isn't it??  By tonight I'll be a wreck.  I understand it's going to be made into a movie so that should be really interesting, but I'm still thinking about those sharks.

The painters are coming Tuesday and I am ready.  Funny how you can go years without fresh paint and then it's suddenly a huge emergency.  Hair cuts and hair color are like that, too.  When you gotta have it, you just gotta have it.  Period.  Nothing else works until you do.

Happy almost long weekend to all. 

Getting ready for Fall

I'm attempting to get organized for Fall.  After a laid back slouchy summer, I'm struggling here.  So far today I've tackled the AC man for a weird compressor noise, a bid from a painter, organized my phone and computer calendars since I'm not sure they'll synch with each other, and put out a few minor fires, and it's just now lunchtime.  Dang.  That's way more than those summer days where it was just me, my coffee cup, and a day of bliss to look forward to.  Truth be told, being busy is the way I like it, and when summer rolls on back around next year, I'll be ready for it all over again. 

I was visiting with Nic yesterday about Hudson's first day of first grade, and Hadley's first day back to kindergarten (or whatever they know call it when you're in the 4's), and she said it was a total whippin'.  With Avery starting her two days a week school today, that means she had to have all three ready at the same time, to get Hud to school by 8AM.  No wonder this world is in such flux--trying to herd three little ones that early in the morning would be like trying to herd cats.  I think the first month or so of back to school is like boot camp.  Maybe the kids should just spend the night there, like in the military.  Oh, yeah....that's boarding school isn't it?

  I remember all to well the morning melt downs, sob stories, last minute requests for outrageous fees right as carpool was honking out front, a specific pair of cleats that had to be there TODAY for football, that you knew nothing about, lost forms, jockstraps, socks, etc.  Oh.  My.  Stars.  If I had to go back, I'd shoot myself.  I will say, it sure wasn't dull.

This picture pretty well sums it up.

The trouble with bones

Since it's already a big day for most kiddos, I decided it was only appropriate that Sis get to have a fresh, cooked, bone, in the backyard to enjoy this gorgeous weather.  She immediately tried to bring it back inside via her doggie door until she saw me standing there, waiting for her.  Once she spied me, she turned her l-o-n-g self around and headed out to the patio to chew.

The rule is you have to stay outside with your greasy bone until it's no longer greasy; then your green-lighted to bring it inside.  It's now clean as a whistle and she's chewing it in the comfort of the den and AC.  Which brings me to the phone call I just received.  It was my sister-in-law, Moo, about Jack.  It seems his nose was bleeding and she couldn't figure out why.  I asked her if it was across the top--across the bridge of his nose--and she said "YES".  She was worried that something really bad was wrong.  I told her, between smiles and laughter that "Nope.  He's just fine.  He's a hound dog and that's what they do.  They try to bury and hide their bones--their most prized possessions-- inside.  Outside, they dig in the dirt but he's inside, so he's using all he has--a fleece blanket and his nose, to bury his bone."  Since that's some tender skin, and a fleece isn't very forgiving, he's just rubbed the skin off, doing what he knows to do.

                                             
We both laughed and I could tell that though she loves dachshunds, she doesn't "speak" dachshund.  Yet.  She will.  (Her family had poodles when she was growing up--better known as Poodah's--so that's understandable.)  For now, though, that particular bone of Jack's is going "on vacation".  She said this scared her to death! 

Even Dr. Seuss gets it, Mr. Akin!

A fellow nurse sent this via a Follower, A, and I thought it was so hilarious I had to share.  Hope you laugh and enjoy it as much as I did!

Well said, Christy!  And thank you to the nurse who sent it!

Angels among us--even for dogs

Yesterday I had the greatest experience ever, with a perfect stranger.  I was in Tom Thumb shopping, saw dog bones in a gals cart, and realized I had forgotten to get some.  So, thinking out loud I said "Oh, I forgot to get bones".  As I turned my cart around to head back to the meat section, the gal looked at me with a stricken face and said "They're out".  I told her no sweat, they would cut me some, when she said "No, I mean totally out" and then asked me "Who are they for?"  Hence began a brand new animal based friendship with a perfect stranger.

I told her about my niece's dog, Baby Jack, who'd had back surgery-- the main bone recipient-- and, Sis, and she immediately started handing over a package of bones--she had two packages with six bones in each.  She said she had Jack Russell's and they could survive the week with just one package, and it would be the right thing for them to share with another pup who was under the weather.  I thanked her profusely for sharing, we laughed about our love of dogs, and off we both went.

When I got to the check out there she was again, and there was an elderly gentleman friend of mine, that I adore, and feel very protective of.  He's a widower, walks with a cane, and had neck surgery a few months back, after an ugly fall earlier in the summer.  He's in his 80's and had had his son living with him after his son's surgery, and had been taking care of him, prior to the fall that precipitated his own surgery.  He has two kitties we always talk about when I see him.  Anyway, once my new dog bone friend saw him, saw us talking, saw me trying to get him in a short line, she pulled back her full cart, and slid him in front of her.  No fanfare, and he didn't even see her do it.  She just did it.  Never mind he just had kitty food--it was the kindness of the action that just blew me away.

I thanked her once he was out of earshot and she just smiled.  Wow.  There are truly angels among us.  

                                                                

Whaaaat?

I just read the latest in the Romney-Ryan attempt to woo women voters, and I had to laugh.  Romney was trying to convince women that if you were a female business owner, he was going to "help you".  Really.  Ladies, he's already trying to "help you" by taking away your birth control, the right to your personal privacy to make that decision with your doctor, your abortion rights, and heaven only knows what else--but he wants you to believe he's got your back.  What if you aren't a female business owner?  It appears that's all he's got for women.  Period.

 How dumb does he think women are??  If it wasn't so blatantly obvious, I'd almost be insulted.  Instead it just makes me laugh.  Ladies:  do you really think he's going to take with one hand and give with the other??  Hell, no.  He's just doing the oldest shell game in the world, thinking we dumb women won't spot it.  He wants to pat you on the head,(chauvinism) and tell you not to worry your pretty little head.  He's going to take care of you.  BS.

Oh, Romney will take care of you all right, (like a rapist in a back alley,) and if you vote for him, just remember you chose him.  No one's perfect and neither is President Obama.  But he's not trying to take any personal rights away from you.

Neither one of these men have all the answers.  No one does.  Ladies, please vote with your eyes w-i-d-e open.  When someone tells you/shows you who they are, BELIEVE THEM. 

Chores

Ahhhh....the sense of accomplishment.  It's taken me three weeks to bag up the ever growing pile of things to donate to the Family Gateway drop box two houses away in the Church parking lot, but let me just say the Eagle has landed.  One giant black trash bag, stuffed to the brim with towels, shoes, and other odds and ends was just driven up to the box.  And, yes, I drove it because I would have had to drag it otherwise and there's no way that poor bag could have held together.  My assistant rode with me, as she is always up for a ride, and the church and surrounding area is her favorite squirrel chasing playground.

I miscalculated a tad on the size of my bag relative to the square shoot opening to shove it through.  While Sis scampered about, I hoisted and shoved.  At first, it didn't seem like it was going to work, so I did what I know better than to do---I shoved harder.  Things must have shifted in the bag because suddenly the bag was swallowed up by the hole.  Eureka.  Mission accomplished.  The bad news for Sis was, she wasn't quite ready to leave, but came anyway when I said "Let's go" and got into the car.  Car rides are a huge deal to her, so she came immediately.  Since she was good, we drove a few extra blocks around so she'd feel like she'd actually been somewhere.  Two houses just ain't much when you think about it, even if you are a dog.

Now she's in her chair in the den, snoozing.  She's already retrieved an unlucky drove popped this morning by her dad, and been on a ride.  No wonder she needs a nap.

Who 'da baby Momma???

Wow....this afternoon my head is spinning.  A shooting in NY, Lance Armstrong's decision to permanently stop fighting  the doping allegations against him, and Romney's birth certificate comment.  I feel like someone just  gave my head a whirly in a nearby toilet.  Is Mercury in retrograde?  Is the barometer falling or is it a full moon, because the crazy factor today is way off the charts.  What is up with all this chaos and craziness?  I'm of the same opinion as Armstrong....I give.  Give the crazies whatever they want, and make them go away.

And speaking of crazy, did you happen to read on the internet about the wealthy businessman whose will stipulated that his gay son's child could not inherit from a trust for his grandchildren, unless the gay son married the mother of that grandchild?  The gay son married his lover--listed as his wife on the child's birth certificate--within the six months required by his father's will.  But here's the best part:  the gay couple used a surrogate to carry the child, and another anonymous woman's egg to conceive, so technically, who is he supposed to have married, if the will won't recognize the gay lover as his wife?  Who exactly is the child's mother?  The surrogate, the anonymous egg donor, or the gay lover, listed as the wife? 

Unless they settle out of court, this thing could drag on and on.  Can you imagine attorneys fighting in court to determine who is the actual mother of the child?  Only the attorneys will win that cat fight. If the courts can't decide who the child's mother is, that's just one problem.  Problem 2:  How was the gay son to marry an anonymous egg donor he'd never met, within six months of the child's birth?  Problem 3:  What about her confidentiality?  Problem 4:  What if the donor was already married?  Problem 5:  What if the surrogate was already married, too?  Problem 6:  What if neither one of these gals wanted to marry this gay man?  That's not his fault.  See??  It's totally nuts.  But I thought it might illustrate my point.  We all just need to turn off our computers, straighten up our offices, and GO HOME.  This world is too crazy so let's all go home and chill.

Happy Weekend to all!

Personal growth--YES!

Saying "yes" is so big.  It opens so many doors to new things, people, experiences, opportunities.  Without stretching, I don't grow.  I don't want to stay the same---that would be redundant and boring.   Saying yes seems to start that whole process rolling and I never do know exactly where it's going to go.  That's the fun of it.

New Friends:  a new friend I met last year asked me yesterday to partner with her this year in a study bunch we both belong to.  We're going to be homework buddies so we each have to be accountable for the work and can learn more from discussions---ours and the groups.   She's wise, funny, easy going, beautiful, single, tan, and someone I find pure pleasure in being around.  She's no BS--just honest "here's who I am".  I love people like that.  I can't wait now for our group to get started, and I'm so glad I said "YES".

New Perspectives:  with growth there are always new perspectives.  New ways of seeing something if you are willing to look at that something from a different angle.  Expanding on something you already knew but having it taken to an entirely different level.  That's what I call growth.

I've decided that digging deeper is going to be my mantra for this year.  I plan to get to know myself better and who I really am vs who I may think I am.  I'm sure loads of things will be revealed and I know I won't like all of them--I just hope and pray I like some of them.  If not, change is always possible.  It's going to be like reading a new chapter in the book called Me.

Schiaparelli Red....I must have it!

It appears its time to get some real painting done--the kind with enamel--so that let's me nicely off the hook.  The problem is, it's been many moons since we've painted our trim, front door and shutters and none of them are on file at the paint store.   And even if we had any old cans of paint, they wouldn't be the right color by now anyway.  So, it appears I'll be hunting something Schiaparelli Red to drag in to the paint store.  It's the most gorge red ever and I must, must, must have it again.  It's my front door color and just rocks my ever lovin' world.  The trim and the shutters will be easy.  The red?  Not so much.

You'd think in this advanced computer age, you could google a color, and a paint computer could decode it.  Not so, Kemo Sabe.  Computers don't read color from a picture you print off, for matching, or so the guy said at the paint store, so we may just have to mix a little of this and a little of that, but a reference point would be a nice start.  It's a red with some pink--not much-- and something else I know not what.  Here are two pic's I found but the dress is by far the best.

                                                                                and

See, I told you it was beautiful!!  Now you know why I simply MUST have it!  Anybody with something this color that I can borrow, holler.  Meanwhile I'll keep digging.  Lipstick or nail polish might work to match from.....hmmm.   All ideas are welcome.  This may take a village.                                                           

Sandy Eggo

I am just back from checking in on mom, and she's all sweet smelling and tucked into bed, watching the History channel.  Come to think of it, my hands smell pretty good, too.  Ah...it's from when I took her hands to see her painted fingernails, and they'd put lotion on her hands before bed.  So that's where it's coming from.....I was beginning to wonder.  There's something very comforting about that smell....sort of a cross between a baby lotion smell and a mild hand lotion.  Makes me think of fresh, soft clean sheets, a cool pillow, and a really soft nightie, as I slide off into dream land.

There's something so nice about seeing her in the evening, when she's all warm and snuggled in her bed and the day is at it's eventual close.  By then she's had a good dinner and no matter what kind of day it's been for either of us, it's almost over.  Tonight I told her about Hudson, Hadley, and Avery's family trip to San Diego--or as one friend calls it, Sandy Eggo.  I told her about Avery's new haircut, her being a little afraid of "the water coming in" (waves), and the fact that I'm betting after day one, she was no longer afraid of "the water coming in".  Since mom doesn't initiate conversation, I usually have to do a monologue until we hit on something she reacts to, like Hudson starting first grade next week.  She nearly levitated when I told her, since she still follows verbal cues, and I had used a "big deal" voice as I told her.  Think monkey see, monkey do and you've pretty much got the picture.  She may not be able to remember a lot of things these days, but you can bet your banana she remembers those three great grands.  They bring joy to a lot of people--me included.  Nite, nite.

Adios, Rat Motel

Man, this is a great day.  The weather reminds me of the State Fair of Texas and those Fall days when everything is just FUN.  My new next door neighbors haven't moved in yet since they're doing a lot of work on their new house first, and the best news of all is, the Rat Motel, ie. their old garage, is coming down as I type.  There's a small dozier in the driveway taking it down slowly so as not to cause any problems and a man is standing in a trash holder, on a a flat bed trailer ready to haul all the junk out once it's all down.  I went over and gave them the thumbs up sign and they all laughed. 

That damn garage has always been a barnacle on the face of our block and has been home to countless rats, opossums, raccoons, and even a dead dog.  Bailey, my neighbors old long haired dachshund gave up the ghost in that garage, and I've never forgotten it.  It made me CRAZY.  He was stinky, smelly, his claws had grown in a loop all the way back touching his pads, from not being trimmed, and they still did not take that dog and put him down.  They didn't want to spend the money, so they let him kick it in their garage.  Now you know why I'm all a twitter over this.  I can't tell you how many times I've wanted to throw a match over the back fence, but figured I might burn down my own house and garage.  I've already burned the garage once so don't even say Match Light charcoal in my presence.

And lastly, that IDIOT, Tom Akin of Missouri, has now pantsed himself in front of God and everybody, and shown himself to be the knuckle draggin', brainless, cave dweller that he is.  A follower suggested I go after him on this blog, but truthfully, as much as I'd love to play tether-ball with his head, I don't want to spend my energy on something that's so stunningly ignorant.  Tom, let's play pin the tail on the dumbass.  You're it. 

Oink, Oink

Sometimes I even surprise myself with the conclusions I draw.  I posted on FB last night that the giant pork shoulder package I purchased was actually TWO shoulders and not one.  Well, no wonder it weighed so damn much.  It was like dragging a small child to hoist it into my cart.  ME?  I was thinking it was just some SUPER PIG.  Quit laughing.  It's actually sort of sad that I would know so little about pigs.  Whatever.

                                                
After brining both overnight, I got them rubbed, and on a little after 8 thing morning and they are gently puffing away in the back yard and now the heat is below where I actually want it.  Enter my blow dryer.  I started blowing to get the heat up with no luck.  I gave up and just decided to be patient--like that's really going to happen.  Have you met me?  Anyway, now we're a goin' just fine and the temp is purrrrfect.  Funny how that works.

I am mildly concerned about the two mosquito bites I got getting things going.....I'm hoping this doesn't turn into West Nile pulled pork.  Yeeesh.

Baby Jack

Sad news to report this morning.  My favorite man dog, Jack, my niece's almost clone of Wigman, had to have an emergency laminectomy (back surgery) earlier this week, but is recovering nicely at home with his Grandmother.  My niece is in Medical School, doing a short rotation in OKC, so her two dogs were here with her mom.  Jack is the funny man and devil dog who brought us the butt whip, the donkey kick, and love claps, to name just a few of his tricks.  He looks so much like Wiggles that he could have had the personality of Cujo and I'd still have loved him.  Luckily, he doesn't. 

His post op pic is not for the squeamish so for those who might get the creepies seeing it, I decided not to post it.  Instead, I decided to show you him in his finer days, doing exactly what may have caused or at least contributed to his back issues.  Are ya feelin' the love??  I know you are.  How could anybody resist that?

On another animal note--even though birds aren't animals--we were doing a serious bathing business out front this morning in the curbside puddle.  One grackle drank several gulps of bathwater and then bathed, which I guess beats the other way around but not really, if you consider this is a communal bath.  Gross to the tenth power. 

After the recent rain, I have seen at least two hawks back  in  the neighborhood, and while I'm thrilled about that, the birds do not seem quite as excited and the crows are livid.  Nothing says hawk like a bunch of screeching crows. 

Sis is out on patrol while her dad mows, and couldn't be happier.  Some girls are sooo easily pleased.

Judge Judy

Has it ever occurred to you that people you don't like were put into your life to teach you something?  And more specifically something about yourself?  I know ...wrankles the holy crud out of you, doesn't it?  When I finally figured out that on some level they were simply holding a mirror up to me in order to see myself, that really pissed me off.  Me??  Like them??  No way.  Yes, way.

Does "spot it you got it", ring any bells?  Let's just say that went down my throat like steaming hot lava.  The things I most disliked in them, were the very things I had in myself.  Otherwise, why would it 1) piss me off so bad 2) would I see it so clearly.  Because I own it.  They are just like me.

  When I finally decided to embrace the lesson, and learn what I could about it, my dislike of them diminished somewhat (not totally), and when I'd see someone "doing their thing", I'd cringe knowing I looked just like them, when I did the same thing.  Ohhhhh, talk about torture.  It's like watching the worst movie ever and you're the star, acting like an ass, in front of everybody, only this time it's them.  You get to see exactly how you looked.  Bang...down goes the judgement I was carrying and plop, there went the criticism, and pshew, up comes the compassion. 

I'm learning more and more to ask myself "what's the lesson here?" and try to get it the first time.  I seldom do, and it keeps reappearing until I do.   Sometimes it's dressed up differently so I don't recognize it or worse, I don't wanna get it this time.  I just want to be Judge Judy.  I can.  And I'll see the same lesson again soon, only the next time its likely to be more painful--to get my attention. And did I mention I'm not real popular when I act like Judge Judy?  Nobody is.  Even she's not, so why would I want to act like her?

There are some people who choose not to get life's lessons at all, and I cannot for the life of me figure out how they have any quality of life.  Maybe they do.  Maybe they don't.  The good news is, it's none of my business. 

My stuff's mine and their stuff is there's.  Case closed. Bang!

Was that rain???

So, houwz about that rain last night?  I was doing the happy dance underneath my covers hoping it kept on going all night.  Judging from the looks of my front yard, everything sucked it all up with just a tad bit left over down by the bird bathing area at the curb.  No birds are bathing now--they probably got enough of a rinse  last night.  But fresh bath water is always a good thing.  Even for a bird.

I called a few minutes ago to check on mom's weight and she had gained some which surprised me.  It's either fluid accumulation or they've been making her eat.  I was ultra clear on the phone that they were not to force her to eat.  Ahem....repetition strengthens and confirms, so repeat after me "don't force her to eat, please."  When we ran by Sunday, mom was just finishing lunch, and one of the ladies there had forgotten she'd eaten, and was back telling the staff she needed to eat lunch.  Again.  I'm serious.  That's just part of what this disease does to people.  At the same time, Mom's next door neighbor was at it again, trying to break out, and was setting off the door alarm again, and several other ladies had fallen asleep at the table after lunch.  Luckily, mom was sitting with a lady who used to be in my water aerobics class at the Y, so we chatted her up, too, while we visited.  She was a total pistol and told Bruce and I that she had "visitors coming, too".  Or, at least we think that's what she said.  When it was time for her nap, she wanted to stay and visit, but I assured her she wouldn't be missing anything--we weren't that fun--and she laughed.

God continues to shuffle the deck.  One of Brian's friends was badly hurt a few days ago and is at Parkland in ICU, in critical condition.  He was electrocuted by a power line and fell some 20-25 feet out of a tree, landing on his face.  It's a miracle he's alive, so if you are inclined to pray for someone you don't know, his name is Brandon, and he could use all the prayers he can get.  I vividly remember him coming to see Brian after his crash, and I am sending loads of prayers his way.  I am hopeful to go visit him later when he is more stable and out of ICU.  Hey, once a momma (nurse), always a momma (nurse), and maybe I could be of help to his mom.  Who knows??  And speaking of the Big P, we were over near there last week and could see see how all the new construction is coming along, and it's going to be an incredible facility.  Yay, Dallas.  What a gift it will be to this city and it's citizens. 

Sis is snoring below me so that means I need to get busy.  Lots to do today and loads to be grateful for.  Let's all make it a good one.

Buh bye

Now that we are all done with the Olympics, is anybody wondering what the athletes do afterwards, besides party?  Seriously.  Do they start right back training or do they take a month off and just chill?  We know the Chinese don't, but wouldn't you think your body and your mind would need a rest after all that adrenalin?  I'd think you'd have to give yourself a nice long break or risk mental fry out and injury.  Me??  I'd be a couch potato.  I wouldn't move for at least a month.

After all of the excitement, I'm also having some Olympic with drawls.  Regular old life is going to seem a tad boring after all the fun.  Although I flitted in and out of watching the closing ceremonies, I didn't understand them much better than the opening ones, but that's OK.  I'm not thinking too many people did or really cared.  And the Spice Girls reunion?  Awkward.

Is it just me wanting a change of season or can you feel Fall coming?  I can.  I'm beginning to feel the beginnings of back to school-ness and change in the air.  Time for fresh Fall apples, mums on the porch, cooler temps, backpacks, kids riding bikes to school, carpools honking, and maybe even a little rain.  Bring it on.  I'm definitely over summer even though I've enjoyed it.  Sometimes you just need to change the channel and move on to something different.

With Fred's vacay now over, it's nice to reclaim my space, and the peace and quiet I enjoy being home.  I don't mind sharing--we are just complete opposites when it comes to noise volume, TVs on in every room, picking up, cleaning up, opening and not closing, etc.  I'm sure the other gal pals out there can relate.  What is it with guys and noise???  I know it's a Y chromosome thing but do you think we can maybe gene splice that eventually??  Golly damn....all that racket makes me homicidal.  I remember back when the boys were little and the more noise a toy made, the more they loved it.  Screeching sirens, blow up noises, you name it-- as long as the noise made your ears ring, they loved it.  Me...not so much.

Gratitude

Things I am grateful for today:

1)  Olympic coverage on TV and the incredible array of world wide athletes (especially American)
2)  HDTV so I can see even bubbles in the pool after a dive
3)  My dog for all the love, kisses, support, and laughs she unknowingly brings me
4)  LeBron James for his ability to fly through the air without wings
5)  Angels among us who appear at just the right time for coffee or whatever is needed at the time
6)  New clothes and the ability to pay for them
7)  The puddle out front by the curb for bird bathing each morning
8)  Haircuts, showers, and new fluffy towels
9)  Brushing my teeth with a new toothbrush
10)  Paper towels
11)  A clean house
12)  A loving husband who puts up with me and all my crap, which is considerable
13)  My sons, my wonderful daughter-in-law, and her fabulous mother and daddy
14)  God --He made all of the above possible

Asthma??

You know how some people are almost always good for a laugh?  My sister is usually one of those people and this morning I called her to give her some information about mom, and to compare notes.  Translation: check out feelings.  I told her every morning when I wake up, I feel a weight on my chest, and I asked if she did.  She said "No, not really...maybe you have asthma" and then she wanted to give me the name of a book on women and heart disease.  At this point I am about to spit my coffee all over everywhere.  Thank God only one of us is a nurse.  I told her "I don't HAVE FREAKING ASTHMA...I'M SAD....and I'm trying to FIND OUT IF YOU FEEL LIKE THIS, too!!!"  Her response "Ohhhhhhh......" and we both started laughing.

Here she's got me heading to an allergist or cardiologist and I'm just sad.  I told her after I have a couple of cups of coffee, do my daily readings and journal some, the feelings lighten up, and I go on with my day.  Jeeze, Louise.....I am still laughing.  Riding the waves of grief is like trying to surf in a tsunami, but an occasional good laugh can sure make for a fun ride. 

Dr. Chrane, in her office, diagnosing. 

Revisit to the SPCA

As Fred's staycation comes to a close on Monday, it seemed only fitting after yesterday's post, that we finally go back and visit the new SPCA.  We went before--the day it opened--despite the fact neither TV or the DMN announced the door's would open at noon vs regular 10am and we arrived at 10:30 am.  No way were we waiting an hour an a half or coming back since it's quite a hike to get there.  Today's visit was a hoot and there were lots of dogs for adoption --even an already neutered little boy blue heeler pup that was adorable. He was soooo cute we took this pic and emailed it to Bruce's baby brother, John, who is a big blue healer fan, hoping maybe he'd come get him.  As we watched him nap, his feet and legs were twitching while he was off in dream land, chasing or herding something.  No dachshunds, thank heavens, or I might not have made it out without one.

Sis did score another new snazzy pink collar on the way out, and as we paid for it, the lady said they usually get lots of dachshunds.  She saw Fred's white dachshund hat with the dog in navy blue, and knew we were "quality people".  She has three wieners at home and wanted a hat like his but we told her she'd have to head to the beach in Seaside, Florida since it was a gift from one of Fred's brother's.  Mwah, mwah.

I'm also glad to report that Jan Rees-Jones portrait in a ball gown holding one of her dogs, with the other one at her feet, has been replaced with one of her in pants and casual top, as I had suggested in an earlier post.  Thank you, Jan, for taking my style suggestion.  Somehow her ball gown seemed a tad bit much for a place like the SPCA.

We also checked out the kitties and found that they really scored when it came to cool play areas and living quarters.  They have a solid glass wall behind each area so it's almost like being outside, minus the heat.  They have toys, climbing areas, kitty condos--the works.  They can chase, run, and play and frankly have much better digs than the dogs, but then they use litter boxes, too.  Getting adopted may be a real step down for some of these cats, after shacking at the SPCA.  It's definitely high tone in their zone.

Now that the weekend is here, let's all nap, chill, and relax...ahhhhh.

May to the rescue

I am so pissed off I could slap the paint off a wall.  I just had a run in with a young guy who thinks it's OK to leave his brown Lab, locked in his car with the windows down about 3 ", and his sun roof open, in this heat, while he either shops or works.  I am serious.  I called 911 and they said I'd have to take the dog or be responsible for it, if they came and let it out so I went into the store next to it--Tylers-- and asked at the counter if anyone had left their dog outside in a white Acura MDX.  A guy said "That's my friend's dog" and I told him " You better tell your friend to get that dog  before I call 911 again " and up comes the friend. 

Whaaaaaaat a jerk.  He's all "What's your problem , lady?" and I told him exactly what my problem was--his dog-- and that if he didn't care about his dog, I did.  He got a all mouthy with me as he walked out the door and waited for me to disappear.  I didn't.  I sat right there with my phone in my hand.  I gave him time to pull out and he didn't, so I hit call for 911.  I checked my phone and it was already 95 degrees and I was sweaty in the shade.  Dude...you want a pissing contest, I'll give you one.  Smarty pants sat there until his friend said " She's giving them your plate number", he yells "OK..OK" and pulls out.  Since I figure he's just going to go around the block, wait for me to leave and possibly come right back, I sat there and waited for the Po-Po's, and by now, I'm steaming mad.

Up drives a Po-Po car, I fill him in and he just shakes his head and rolls his eyes.  When I told him Mr. Pet Lover said "Lady don't you have something better to do than this", I assured him "Nope.  Nothing that can't wait-- to save your dog's life, moron" and the cop just howled.  I passed on a few more of moron's choice words and he was real impressed--almost as much as me.  Then up drives a second two man Po-Po car!!  OK...now I'm really loving this.  Both have the guys plate number and I saw them looking around for him, as I left.  Moral of the story:  If you do something dumb and someone calls you on it--own it, dumb ass, and don't mess with an old lady.

Have we changed?

Here's my big question to today: In the age of personal media, have our brains changed physically and do we act the same way people did prior to all this immediate access to world wide information?  Lofty, no?  Rather unlike myself but this really has me thinking.

Back in our grandparent's generation--post Victorian era--did people cheat the way they do today, did they lie, murder, and steal, and do unspeakably horrific things and nobody knew about it since communication here around the world took forever?  Was a handshake really as good as a signed contract?  I know in any generation, there's always the rule breakers and the rule followers, but I wonder if there was any more cheating then, than there is today?  (Hang on to the part about  brain changes--I'm getting there.)

Cut to the 50's and most of our parents generation.  I know cheating and the rest were frowned upon for men, and for women it was far worse--thank you, double standard--but look at what all went on in Hollywood and even in your neighborhood and among your parent's friends?  Liz and Dick?  Debbie Reynolds and Eddie Fischer?  Spencer Tracy and Katherine Hepburn?   The list is endless.  With the advent of TV, did our brains change at all by watching this new fangled contraption vs. listening to the radio, like our parents had done?  Did looking and listening, change our brains at all?  Were any new neuro synaptic pathways created as a result?  Did anyone go blind or die, from watching American Bandstand??

Our generation: Reportedly we all destroyed our brains with drugs, alcohol, sex (Woodstock, Haight Ashbury, LSD, Jimi Hendrix, etc.) so basically we know our brains are toast--or at least anyone who did that back in the day.  Forget any new neuro pathways--we're lucky if we have the ones we were born with after all that tuning in and dropping out.  Cheating and the rest?  What's that???

Our kids generation:  This bunch has some of what I suspect is different brain anatomy due to cell phones, texting, X-box, Atari, global paparazzi, and the advent of social media--FB, My Space, Google and all the newer sites.  They are wired out the kazoo and have given birth to, or ultimately will, little wire heads as well.  They don't have a clue what it's like not to have had cell phones, computers, computer games, and the rest, so I have no doubt that if we compared their brains and mine, certain parts of theirs would light up like a Christmas tree while mine would look like a dead strand of Christmas lights--for lots of reasons! Pzzzst.  Black out.  As for cheating?  According to People Magazine, they do. Drugs, alcohol, gambling, sex, and food, are all the trendier addictions, so clearly they are participating in those, and I'm not thinking a handshake on a drug deal means much to a pusher, so forget that idea.

Just what I think...how's about you??  I know with every generation, social and societal things change...but have WE changed, is the $64,000 question??

I smell Latex

Ta dah.... the hallway is painted and I did most of it before a certain someone decided to help.  I knew he wouldn't be able to stand it, if I got everything started.  Man, it already looks a thousand times better but the blue tape is still on it so I can go around and do the last edges and corners.  I've decided underwear painting is the way to go and with my fan perched in the hallway, it's not too shabby.  The hard part is painting in latex gloves since you can't ruin your freshly done nails with paint.  Are you nuts??  Your hands tend to sweat inside that airless void, and when you raise your arms to paint, guess where it goes??  Down your arm.  Total gross out even with powdered gloves.  I may have to let my hands go au naturel on the next area I pick.

The down side of all this painting is, my house smells like feet....and sort of stinky ones at that.  I'd forgotten the funk smell of latex -- I am more of an enamel girl myself.  Oh, yeah baby...a cheapo high if that's how you roll and it's only fun if someone else (hired) is painting. There's no way in Gotham City I'd ever paint with enamel, though--too hard.  Every little brush stroke shows, which explains why painters spray it on where they can and where they can't.... aww, hell they do it anyway.  You know they do.

As I close, I am considering painting a stripe down Sister's back so she'll look like this. 

Jumping... ooo, la la

Yesterday after my cleaning out and painting post, I got busy, only to hit a major snafu.  We went to Mr. J's, my paint store, to have a certain color mixed that they keep on file for me, only to have them be out of flat latex wall paint.  I kid you not.  A paint store without paint.  I had my little pile of things I needed and when the guy came out to show me the color before mixing it, I figured we were good to go.  Oh, not so fast Kemo Sabe....  The good news is, they think they'll have more in on Monday, I can get after taping off all the walls, and be ready when it comes in.  So much for getting my paint on.  It's not like I don't have a million and one other things I can do until then but I was just psyched to paint.  And if you'd seen what I had on, you'd have called the Po-Po's.  It was pretty bad.  Ratty to the tenth power.

Stadium jumping is on the Olympics right now and suffice it to say, I am glued.  Gorgeous horses, fabulous riders, what's not to love??  Never mind I have stuff to do...I'm watching!  Too delicious to miss.

Trashing time

The dawg days of summer are upon us and it's hotter than stink.  Whatcha gone do??  Stage a clean out.  Grab your black plastic trash bags and go for it.  Toss all that "I might need this stuff some day " because if you haven't needed it by now, honey, you ain't gonna.  So, pitch it, recycle it, put it in the bin at the church for the Family Gateway--just get. it. out.  Ahhhhh...can you feel the size of that vacuum left behind, with all that space??  That's my most favorite part.  Now, when you get finished with that, rearrange your furniture.  Make things look all new and different.  If you aren't good at this, and I'm sure not, call a friend (or your sister) and get them to help. 

I get restless after awhile and need things shaken up a bit and when it's too hot to do anything else, turn on your ceiling fans and go for it.  I may even head to the paint store and repaint.  Nothing says fresh like clean new paint.  I once painted our hallway during a Cowboy game and was done by half time.  We sucked back then, too, so it was a great use of my time.  Yes, the Olympics are on but we're down to the tail end of swimming, goodbye, Micheal, and now it's going to be track and field.  Honey...that's like watching paint dry anyway, so you might as well get painting. 

That said, time to go get my trash bags.  I've got a lot of work to do.  No telling what I might find.

Mom update

We ran by to see mom the other night after dinner.  She was already tucked into bed in her nightie, happy as a pig in mud, watching the Olympics on TV.  Man, is she tiny, though...her shoulder are so bony now they were poking the shoulders of her gown.  I have to constantly remind myself this is normal...she is dying.  She is just doing it s-l-o-w-l-y.  I sat on the bed as she visited with Bruce and me, and we told her what all was going on.  I don't think she actually retained a speck of it, but we told her just the same.

She's by herself a lot these days though she has people around her checking in and out on her, and frankly, it's her preference.  Too much action is not her deal these days and as long as she's happy, I'm not changing anything.  She likes her peace and quiet and her own space.  If she wants to yell at someone on TV, she can, and I want her to, if that floats her boat.  Personally, it cracks me up if she gets mad at someone on TV.  The other day she told a character in an old movie, "Awww, be quiet, you mean old lady!" and I howled. Then she laughed because I thought she was funny.  She loves to perform when we are visiting. 

It never ceases to amaze me how someone can be dying and how it can be such a gentle process.  When I think of dying, I always think of drama....I think the things we see on TV with gunshots, car crashes, and ER heart attacks make drama seem part of the equation, when sometimes it isn't.  Mom could still stroke or have a heart attack, too, but right now, she's just gently sliding downwards and that's pretty peaceful if you ask me.  Wow...lots to be grateful for today in God's world.

Happy Weekend to all.  Enjoy these peonies!

Welcome to Sturgis

This morning, a slick black gal is happier than the law allows.  She has finally figured out that her dad is here, it's not the weekend, so that means he's here all day, for HER.  They are outside right now in the back yard doing yard work, and Fred's wearing the bottom to a pair of my old soft, wonderful scrubs.  OK...that hurts.  Never mind they are unisex.  The fact that he can wear them is awwwful.  He said they were "tight"--I'm not seeing it but whatever.  He thinks he's less likely to get West Nile if he has on something long and he's put on a little bug spray as a chaser.  It's quite a look and he'd kill me if I posted a pic here.  Besides, you never want to piss off your yard man.

On another front, I have a new phrase to describe something lots of us do, but won't admit we do.  It's called cake forkage.  It works with any type of cake, but around here happens most often with a sheet cake--specifically the yellow cake with the chocolate and pecan frosting I made a few days ago.  Forkage is simply swinging past the cake, with your fork in hand, lifting the cling wrap, and proceeding to fork skinny bites, all the way across to keep the line straight, so no one will know you've been "forking".  It works in any direction unless or until there is a corner square piece left.  No way around it--if you forkage, someone's gonna spot the missing piece, and you are busted.  Ditto if you leave visible tine marks across the cake.  It kills me to watch the exquisite lengths certain people will go to, to avoid getting out a plate.  And I have to admit, forkage is fun.  Come on over to the Dark Side.  We have cake.

P. S.  Benji is in Sturgis, South Dakota, playing at the big Harley Rally, with half a million bikers. Oh, Lordy...