Yum

To brine or not to brine?  That is the question.  In recent years, I have brined like a maniac and the result was deeeelish.  But since I'm also about trying new things, I've decided to go the Kosher turkey route, which is similar to brining.  All of the taste and none of the hassle.  Quite frankly, I was all set to brine until I read on my Trader Joe's Kosher turkey that part of the Kosher prep is cleaning, soaking and salting--and that's for an unbrined turkey.  I can't think I'd really need to brine after that, so I'm simply not gonna. Nuh, uh.  Going to spend that time doing something fun.

I'm also thinking it just might be the year to free up my oven for the sides and cook my turkey on my Big Green Egg.  It's always fun to do it that way and so dang easy.  Since mine's in the back yard, I can go get it started in my pj's, with my coffee and Sis to assist me.  (She sniffs while I do all the work.)

Once the turkey goes on, I only have to check on it once, to lower the heat, after the first 30 minutes.  The down side is, if it's cold outside, I need to listen for the probe thermometer alarm to go off and if it's really cold, I'm going to need to delegate that duty.  Besides, I am busy cooking after all. (rationalization).
                                                        

My biggest challenge and change this year is going the no white refined sugar and no white flour route.  Others can have it--I'm just not doing it--and that has opened up an all new world for me to find things that work.  So far, I think I'm good on that score so this should be fun to see how it all works out. 

Let's just hope

In my honest belief that anything--and I mean anything-- can be used for a higher good, I think this whole Ebola situation actually could fall into that category.  No, I'm not suggesting that someone losing their life to this disease is a "good thing" but it got your attention didn't it?

I think the US, in it's arrogance, thinks we have most things all figured out and we're on top of just about anything that can happen to us, when the truth looks a whole lot different.  911, serious Secret Service gaffs, and numerous other examples point to the truth-- that we really don't "have it all together at all."

Enter Ebola.  My belief is NO DALLAS HOSPITAL was prepared to take care of an ER walk-in, possible Ebola patient, much less Presby.  They simply drew the black bean when Thomas Eric Duncan walked into their ER.  If you've ever been to an ER, you know the craziness that is part and parcel of what goes on in a life and death environment.  Nurses put their lives on the line EVERY DAY in the ER, and everywhere else.  Ineffective communication, no training, no protocols in place, no drills, no experience and no hazmat suits, equals disaster-- I don't care how "good" you think you are. 

In my experience, Hospital Administrators make decisions around staff based on the "bottom line" of the budget, and what they are "required" to have in place by JCAHO.  In my 36 years as a nurse and experience in Administration, I have seen education and training for nurses cut repeatedly in order for the hospital to purchase the sexiest new ___X___ that administrators think will suck in more patient dollars.  Nurses?  Maybe next year, gals.

As a female dominated profession, we have ALLOWED this treatment. We have done NOTHING to stop it because the alternative was to abandon people (patients) at their most vulnerable.  Walk out?  Unacceptable.  Let someone die?  No way.  But these same nurses are "on their own" in a hospital lawsuit. More often than not we're simply disposable. 
                                                             

So, if anything good comes from this whole Ebola scenario, I'm hopeful that nurses will unionize so they can demand protection, education, shift breaks, staffing quotas, equipment, etc.  If nurses put their lives on the line every day, they deserve at least that much.  They deserve to be treated like valued assets-- not children.                  

Lastly, I'm ready for the truth to come out about how hospitals REALLY function.  Every hospital has it's horror stories and secrets, and it's time we all got honest.  I'm ready for the US, Presby (and the CDC) to act with some humility and admit we simply don't know everything, aren't the best, the smartest, or even the kindest. And we sure as hell aren't honest.  Enough with the spin.

 Maybe... just maybe.... that might be the good that comes out of this whole Ebola thing.  I hope so.
                                               

Ouch

Thank heavens yesterday morning started out so great because after I went to check on mom, I was on a bit of a downer.  When I got there, she was out of it but looked cold (body language) so I asked her, and she sort of just squawked at me.  With  wet hair also, I figured that was a "yes" so I covered her up with a blanket and left to run get her a blow dryer.

I know...seriously...a blow dryer for a few strands of hair... but what the hell.  I got one, came right back, and proceeded to blow dry her hair.  She was like an old cat getting it's head rubbed.  She closed her eyes, leaned her head forward, and sighed as I played hairdresser.  Hair flew in every direction but this was not about style as much as comfort.  I got her brush and brushed my "creation", as I laughed at myself.  Her hair is like corn silk and fine as it comes --what little there is left.  Trying to get it to do anything was just a joke.  So, I just brushed.

                                                 
The lady who used to do mom's hair decided it was too hard and uncomfortable for mom to lean her head back for a shampoo and I suspect she'd rather do ladies that are a tad more functioning than mom.  I get it.  I really do.  
                                                 

Sounds fun, doesn't it?

This morning in the shower I had a total epiphany.  Now that we are going to have a grand baby in Nash it makes sense to think about where we'll stay when we go to visit.  Yes, we can always do the hotel scene but that's going to get old at some point and is frankly kind of gross.

So here's my idea: Benji and Andrea may buy a house at some point-- and with their permission-- my idea becomes a reality.  For their privacy and ours, what if we bought a Tiny House (movable) and parked it in their "someday" back yard?  Towable and fully customizable, we could have our own space and they could, too.  I'm thinking a tiny kitchen, Keurig or Nespresso maker, refrigerator/freezer, tiny bathroom and maybe a deck.... and, wow, we're set.  They come with full AC and lots of insulation so we'd be cool or toasty, depending on the season.

                                              

When we aren't there, they could use it for friends or other family, an office, or whatever.  They could even Airbnb it, too, for additional income.... but that could get creepy with strangers.  Maybe just friends or friends of friends. Dunno.

If/when they move, we hitch it up and take it to their next home or if we're tired of it by then, sell it as part of their house and recoup our initial investment.  When I tossed my idea out at lunch, Dadamon died laughing-- and loved it.  He broke into a huge grin and said it was a really fun idea.  He did mention stuff like code issues, how to get it in and out if they have a fence--all stuff that requires a little more research on my part--not to mention home ownership for Andrea and Benji....you know...minor stuff like that.   It's ideas, thinking, playing, researching like this, that really keeps my motor going.

And did I mention I'm dying for a Tiny House?  Well, I am.

Skillet brownies for the win

This morning I feel like a big old box of sunshine.  My slow cooker is chuffing away with a pot roast, the yard guys just finished mowing, blowing, and in a few cases raking, and I have the rest of the day to just get my happy on.  Again, that usually means cooking, or thinking about it.  My biggest quandary is what to cook next.  Sooo many choices, so little time.

Do I make zucchini bread or muffins, or one of the new little skillet brownie recipes I found?  With a blob of vanilla ice cream on top, sprinkled with toffee bits, I'm seriously leaning skillet brownies.  Plus, I get to use my teeny little individual skillets again.  And let's get real here...I get to eat one.  Or at least one anyway. 

On another note, I'm so tired of robo or out of area calls (to get around the do not call list), I'm seriously considering dropping my land line.  The ripple effect will be something to consider since several things will need to upgrade as a result but I'm about ready.  My partner will give me his automatic knee jerk "No" but he'll come around.  He always does.

The boys learned early if they really wanted something, to approach mom first and try to sell her on your idea.  If she buys in, Dadamon is simply a matter of time.  Mom will nag him for you.

**  If the boys are reading this, they are laughing their heads off.  They KNOW it's true.

Head bang, head bang, head bang...

                                                               
Today is Benji's 30th birthday and we are getting a new furnace installed.  Dang, my life is glam.  Considering our old one is a little over half Benji's age, it's time to quit putting perfume on this pig, and just get a new pig.  Since I need to be here to babysit the install, I've decided to at least use my time well and we all know that's code for cook.  I may even clean out the kitchen cabinets (and again I may not, too.)  It all depends on how hot it gets and for how long. Since we have two systems, Sis and I may be just fine. Right now is lovely.

What's NOT so lovely is dealing with the 1950's jicky construction issues of this old house.  What a hot mess.  Wait....listen...in the distance...do you hear a bulldozer?  I think I do. 
                                                    

Perfection!

After last nights big reveal from Andrea and Benji and watching FB light up with well wishes from their families and friends, I am one grateful MayMay to be.  I won't go into the story about how they orchestrated to tell the Gonzalez's and Harris' but let's just say a LOT of planning went into it and it was down to split second timing, Face Time and a Mac recording the whole thing, Benji texting delivery ninja Erin Spalding to "GO", and the doorbell wringing with no one there.  Just two adorable boxes sitting on the porch--one marked Gonzalez, and the other one Harris. Erin also did the gift wrap (which blew my mind in it's perfection and adorableness) but that's a whole different story.  If this is a look at grandparent hood, I REALLY LIKE IT already!  And we get a baby, too???  What a deal!                    

I also love the continuity.  Erin and Andrea have been close forever.  Erin was there with Marianne and me the day Andrea found her dress.  Erin was all bidness that day and told Andrea to try on her favorite dress LAST, and she was totally correct.  She was Andrea's only attendant in Capri.  And now this.  Wow.   I can't wait to see the next chapter. 

Thank you Andrea, Benji, and Erin for making such a HUGE moment even bigger!                                      

While I wait...

While I wait for the AC men to show up, I thought I might cuss and discuss for a second.  Today I know among other things that this too shall pass, whatever your this may be.  Even the Bible says "and it came to pass".  It does not say "and it came to stay".  Therefore, all the craziness that's going on in the world is temporary and the less energy and emotion we give it, the faster it will go.  Whatever we focus on, we make larger. Ditto negativity.  The only thing I know for sure that I can change, is my attitude, and concentrating on the positives always works. 

A gratitude list has been the quickest way for me to turn myself around and there's so much I've been given (and, no, I don't mean material stuff) and can be grateful for, that the list just goes on and on.  We all get down.  Just don't forget to get back up.

Yesterday morning I heard Disney voices outside and looked out to see Claire and Baby John with their nanny, walking Claire down the block to school.  Picture it...Claire all dressed up with her hair in a fetching side braid and Baby John in his shorts wearing a red baseball hat.  My face immediately split into a huge grin and I could not stop laughing.  Little stuff.  But b-i-g stuff.  The laughter, the joy, the peace.  Beats the heck out of the news any day. 

*** And the AC guy just drove up.  Funny how that works.

Wig lady

I saw one of my favorite people today at the Cleaners this morning.  If you are a Sunshine Cleaners patron, you already know who I'm talking about.  The African American lady who wears all the different wigs--depending on her mood-- and Lordy, does she have a collection. 
Today's wig was a subtle red one I've seen before, that's fluffy and full and she looks like one hot mama in it.  She's probably close to my age--hard to tell since black don't crack-- and she's just fun.  Anybody who'd wear that wig would have to be.
Dropping off my stuff, we got laughing about "back to school".  I was telling her I don't even have little kids anymore but could totally remember that feeling driving away after dropping them off for the first day....just a total WOO HOO!!!  She started laughing and said every single mom that had come in so far--and it was only 10AM--had said the same thing.  Yippeeee.

Nite, nite

It's the shank of the evening and we are just back from a walk with Sis.  She tried her best to get us to take her for a ride instead by doing the stall technique by the car but, alas, it was not to be.  We ALL needed a walk.  The stall technique is actually her way of asking to go for a ride, but when she plants her paws, it becomes the dachshund test of will aka a control battle.  Nothing new there.

As we came down the block towards home, I noticed a red Lexus had stopped in the middle of the street and I just figured they were looking at Sis.  Down went the passenger side front window, and up popped a barking, smarty pants red mini dachshund that was trying to bring Sis the big scary sh**.  I laughed so hard I almost fell down.  Sis never dignified she'd even heard all that shrill nonsense and proceeded on down the block, tongue flopping, too hot to care that some silly little mini was barking at her, on her own block. 

Yeah...you're some big scary stuff. 

I don't know about you all but this has been a hard week.  I'm glad to see it in the can.  I could use some naps, ice tea, and a good book.  The back to school, change of season energy is too amped up for me. In fact, hand me this puppy.  That will fix everything.

Sure...go ahead...open it.

Late yesterday afternoon we had a frog strangler with thunder and lightening like no other.  The mountains were obscured by rain clouds and it was coming down in buckets.  Because my partner is a weather nut, he wanted to stand outside on the elevated deck and watch.  I kid you not.  I think sometimes his common sense takes a day off.  With questionable weather in the mountains, you take shelter immediately, and lightening you most definitely do not play with.  No siree.  (If Brian and Benji are reading this they know what I'm talking about with their dad, and weather.)

And if you think I'm kidding about stuff he says and does, he just asked me if the little dissolvable detergent bubble things that go in the dishwasher "need to be opened first?"  I almost said "sure...go ahead... open it." Then he held up a long sleeved t-shirt (I made him buy), and said how glad he was he bought it.  Head bang.  Head bang. Head bang.  Sometimes he just slays me.                                      

The animal count continues and we have added chipmunks, geese, trout, and two onsite new dogs staying at the big house that just arrived.  One is a lab and no sooner was he out of the car, than he was in the river.  In out.  In out.  He simply cannot get enough and is beside himself with joy.  The second is a light brown lady boxer and water is clearly not her deal.  Not at all.  A sniff and a pat from us and she was gone, loping across the backyard.  

Lastly, I want you to know I was attacked (and survived) a moth ambush right after I turned out the light last night.  I freaked out so bad I jumped up, flipped on the light and started pounding the bed and throwing pillows around.  It was awful and why they chose me and not him, I'll never know.  The final body count was 4 and all I'm saying is, it just better not happen again tonight. 

Oh, Sis.....

Lawd...lawd...lawd.  Word from home is a certain black hound was not happy yesterday when her brother left her home alone for awhile.  Sooo much so that she dragged his clothes all the way from his bathroom floor, thank you, into the den.  The dog shrink in me says this is a twofold issue: 1) abandonment behavior by a highly emotional hound  attempting to comfort herself by lying on his clothes and smelling his smell in her spot--the den  2) a pissed off hound protest and he's lucky she didn't do worse. Either way, her dad and I have laughed our heads off thinking about her and how much effort that was.  At least she was busy. 

Dachshunds are legendary for their protest behavior.  We had a male dachshund growing up (Chips) that chewed up the blinds when we went out to dinner and left him home alone in a new place.  Another doxie that was mine, Liebe, chewed up my favorite  new shoes.  Total spite and a "back at ya"....thy name is dachshund.

                                                                                   
It's drippy rainy outside and people out back are kayaking, rafting, and having fun even if that water has to be cold as a well diggers shovel.  No matter.  We, however, are chillin', drinking coffee with the windows and screen door w-i-d-e open and reading.  Delish.

We saw the resident red marmot late yesterday afternoon and I just wish he wasn't so shy.  By the time you get your phone camera out, he's long gone.  Even if you get prepped ahead of time, he's still faster.   So far we've seen a doe and fawn (elk? it was dark), the marmot  x2, and a big black bear.  Hopefully, more to come.

Polo and legal pot stores...what a day

I tried posting earlier but kept getting thrown off our wifi.  Welcome to the mountains.  Today has been a hoot.  On our way to check out Glenwood Springs this morning, as we passed Carbondale we saw a Polo match in progress.  Screech.  Back we went to see it.  The Aspen Polo Club kicks some serious butt and the horses that board there have some snazzy accommodations in their barn. As one groom took in a horse that had just come from the last chukka, I smiled and moseyed in right behind him.  Another groom saw me and since he spoke English, laughed and officially invited me in and said I could look around.  Melt.  Horses and my love of them goes w-a-y back, so I met and loved on several.  One was even softer than Sis...and I died right there in the barn.  I'm a total sucker for a horse-- but a soft horse kills me--especially a shaved muzzle Polo pony.  They are jazzy, love to run and play polo, are incredible athletes, and just generally cool horses unless they are nutty--and some are. 
                                                           

After dragging myself from the barn, we headed on to Glenwood Springs, a late lunch, and a stroll into a rock and gem store that almost did me in.  A Turkish opal necklace that was hunks and chunks of these unbelievable pieces of blue opal that were unlike anything I'd ever seen, made. me. drool.  It called to me.    And of course I tried it on...you knew I did.  I haaad to.  I tried on lots of others, too, and finally took the gal's card and got myself out of there.  She has a big honking strand of turquiose that's still calling my name and my sweet husband offered to get me, but he's done enough.  (Hint: I still have her card so it's not over 'til it's over.  I can always call. :)

After touring Glenwood Springs thoroughly and seeing the hot springs, we headed back.  We did see two marijuana stores since pots legal here--one for medicinal use only, staffed by Med students and requiring a prescription-- and the other for more recreational purposes.  Earlier in the week we'd checked out the two in Carbondale.  Word in Colorado is, pot is bringing in more revenue than anyone ever guessed--35 million in the first 4 months-- and other than every purchase being put in a child proof white zipper envelope required by law, that's pretty much it.  When they found out we were from Texas one guy said, "Texas is our #1 purchaser.  We sell more to you guys than anyone else.  Texas should just vote and make it legal and make the money we are."  Clearly he does not know Texas. 

 
                                                 

Cleatus and Suerte

After yesterday's frustrating attempts to get here, we are finally in our spot and after a late night, we are tired but happy.  This morning we went to the Basalt Farmers Market and had a mid morning breakfast burrito from one of the vendors and bought farm raised fresh organic produce.  Music played, dogs were all over, but my favorite find of the morning was Suerte the goat.  According to her mother, she thinks she's a dog and does not hang with the other goats.  Period.  She goes everywhere a dog would go, comes and sits beside the owners as they sell their (goat) cheeses, and rests in the bottom half of a dog crate, with soft bedding.  Just goes to show you that you can be whatever you want to be, as long as you believe it in your heart.  Suerte sure does.                                  

                                              
 I've decided that no matter where we go in the world, one or more dachshunds will find us or we will find them.  After running into a younger brother of a close friend of Benji's in the Denver airport, I looked as a familiar shaped snoot nudged it's way up and out of an unzipped animal carrier.  Cleatus.  I'd have known that nose anywhere.  A brindled red mini doxie at 14 pounds, I was smitten immediately and moved in for a respectful meet and greet.  Friendly and mega sweet, he was tired and ready to get to Aspen.  Once on the ground in Aspen, he knew exactly where he was and according to his mom, knows Aspen "only as the gateway to swimming, hiking, barking and as much fun as 14 lbs. can tolerate."  Off his leash and chasing around by baggage claim, he was in his element. 

My partner just noticed "a varmit" in the yard (a red marmot) and as I listen to the sounds of the river rushing past, the clouds are beginning to gather.  I can see a father and young son upriver from us fishing and a red float-boat upriver from them, also fishing.  Paradise.  Or as close as I can get to it today.

Enough already, Oncor

Our power went off again last night for the second night in a row.  It never stays off for more than an hour or so but still...I'm over it.  Not sure what the problem is (Oncor), but when I asked my spouse what he thought the problem was (rhetorical question) he responded "someone's hacking into the power grid".  OMG.  Paranoid much?  Never mind I don't have a more plausible answer-- this one was just too Homeland for me.  After two cups of joe I'm still laughing.  He says the funniest stuff.                     

                                                  
Tonight I'm going to go around the house and unplug extraneous stuff since it seems to go off at night.  Why does it not power down during the hottest part of the day?  Beats me, girlfriend.

Update:  I am full on addicted to Orange is the New Black.  I have one more show of season one to watch, and it is just beyond good.  Now I understand why everyone is so nuts about it.  The characters are just mind blowing and the in depth character development makes you care about them, even if some of them are like psych patients I once had. 

Thank you, Nellie!

I am making Nellie Connally's Perdnales Peach ice cream with my Mr. Lemley's peaches from yesterday's Farmers Market run.  I can hear the soft purr of the electric ice cream freezer from where I am and it's music to my ears.  I have not made this recipe in over twenty years so converting it from the old timey ice cream freezers to the upscale smaller whipper snapper ones is taking some adjusting.  For example, the recipe doesn't say how much whole milk (liquid lard) to add.  It just says fill to within two inches of the can.  The can she's referring to used to hold a blubber ton more than today's cans so I am experimenting.  I have put my taste buds to the test and am guesstimating. 

My assistant gets sort of snooty when I ask for his help as ice cream making is usually his domain.  He'll take over if you waffle for even a second so you have to constantly let him know who is boss.  (You'd think he'd know by now, wouldn't you, but whatever.)  Example:  As I was reasoning through how to adjust the recipe and asked how much each freezing container held, he took the the measuring cup with my mix in it and allllllll most dumped it in-- before I stopped him.  After that, I just fired him.  I don't need an assistant that goes rouge on me.

I just checked and we are about at this stage:

Not much longer before we dump it all out and put it in the freezer to ripen, and commence the next batch.

Truth be told, I had to sweet talk my assistant into coming back-- briefly--to help me dump out load #1 and get the next batch going. I paid him in ice cream and he helped wash (lick and eat) all the remaining ice cream out of freezer container #1.  He was eyeballing the dasher, but that part had to go back into service but it won't be long before he can have that part too.  And then this:
                                                         

Need a spoon???

Hudson!!!

I'm so excited I can hardly stand myself.  Hudson's two weeks at camp is over today and he's on his way home with his mom and dad, and sisters.  Word is, he's a much more grown up young man and I bet is ready to get home and sleep in his own bed and see his dog, Finley.  He had a blast and the picture his mom just texted me speaks volumes.  Camp.  What a wonderful gift for parents to give a child. I can't wait to see him with my own eyes and hear all about his adventures!!  Yay, Hudson!!!

Today I'm all over the map

Despite what a lot of us are hard wired to believe, happiness is an inside job.  It begins with each of us being grateful for what ever is going on in our lives and looking for the lesson.  What am I supposed to be learning from all this?  Sounds easy?  It's not.  Most of us need help along the way and that brings me to sharing.

Sharing with a trusted friend (one who is safe) lightens the load and can alter my perspective-- it can give me a new way of seeing something or even just someone to commiserate with me.  I end up not only feeling better but laughing my tail feathers off.  It's the willingness to say where I am that can be tough.  I have to admit that 1) life's not all hearts and flowers 2) this is how I really feel and who I really am 3) and take the risk of putting it out there and being known for who I truly am--not who someone may want or need me to be, so they can be OK.

And finally, a friend said the most genius thing the other day that just spoke volumes for me.  She said she'd spent her entire life trying to be seen by people who could not see. Wow.
                                              

Happy 87th!

Today is mom's birthday.  My brother just texted me to find out exactly how old she is today.  I was about to text back 86 but then I did the math.  Nope.  She's 87.  Holy cow.  All year long I've thought she was 85.  Then my sister chimed in on the text that mom was actually a preemie and weighed less than 5 pounds at birth.  I'd never heard that.  No wonder she's still alive.  She's one tough old bird.  It's so funny finding out stuff you never knew about family.

The day is young.  No telling what else I'll find out today.

Ahhhhh...

I don't even want to discuss what's going on in the news today.  Too sickening so I'm going to pretend I'm Scarlet O'Hara and not think about it.  Instead, I'm going to look forward to seeing two pals who are coming over shortly for coffee and a good gab session.  IMO, that's what this world needs:  more gabbing and less arguing.  Fresh coffee and flan or banana bread, depending on what strikes your fancy, and suddenly the world looks a tad bit better.

The rain is exactly what I needed today.  A forced case of slow down further, listen to the sounds of the rain, throttle back my motor, and simply enjoy... the... day.  It doesn't hurt that's it's a lot cooler either.  After years of going pedal to the metal, slowing down and savoring time is a HUGE gift.  In my younger days, I felt guilty if I wasn't always doing something, like somehow I was wasting my life.  Today I feel like nothing could be further from the truth.  It's MY LIFE.  I get to do it any way I want and as long as I'm happy in my own skin, and not hurting anyone else, where's the bad news?  There's not any.

I've also decided getting older is the absolute nuts.  Yes, it's a trade off with losing your eyes or hearing, your metabolism screeching to a halt and not having the stamina I used to have.  There is that.  No question.  But the fun and freedom to finally be myself and who I truly am, is exponential.  Today I laugh more and angst less than any other time in my life.  I feel like my inside and my outside match.  I'm congruent.     
                                                   

 

Cold, crunchy....oh yeah

Because I've got other things to tend today, I'm thinking wrap sandwiches for din-din.  If you haven't tried Zoe's slaw, grab your keys and go get some.  In a pita or a wrap--meat or no meat-- or even all alone, it's THE BEST.  Throw some cold chicken on it and there's dinner in my book.  I've got one of those smaller watermelons, some other fruit, some spreadable Boursin cheese for celery or carrot sticks, or even as a spread on the wrap, so I'm thinking dinner is DONE.  In the can.  OVER.  And did I mention some naughty 'tater chips?  Yep.  Got those too.              

And speaking of wraps, the weekend wrap up goes like this:  Sis is still recovering (non-stop napping) from playing hostess with the mostess to Fin all weekend.  (Having guests really takes it out of you especially when you are expected to share and you've sort of forgotten how that works.)   She and Fin got along great--it was just the thought of having to share that fried Sis.  No, you can't sit in my dad's lap.   No, not my mom either.  They are MINE.  Get your own.  Oh....yours are out of town?  Cry me a river, honey. 

My book (Gone Girl) has finally caught on fire and I can barely stand taking a reading break to do other things.  The first two hundred or so pages took way too long to get to the action part for me, but we are in the thick of it now.  Lordy.

Shhhh....time to go read.

Sunday

Here's a list of the things I know (or think I know) today.

1.  Finley is the funniest thing on 4 legs.  Her growl sounds like something from Disney animation and if she wants into the bedroom where you are napping, all kinds of sounds are going to emit from her.
2.  I have decided that Finley has RLS--my personal diagnosis.  Since she twitches and kicks in her sleep, I've decided she has a dog version of restless leg syndrome.
3.  She's perfectly comfortable with us because: at first she thought I was my sister, her grandmother, who she adores and adores her.  Second, she and Sis just kind of hang and she no longer defers to Sis, and last, she has begun to do that what.....I didn't hear you thing all dogs do, when they want to do what they want to do, and you want them to do something else.
4. Wiggles could do the same look and look smashingly handsome-- all at the same time-- so you couldn't possibly get mad at him.  I called it The Man Dog look.  With Fin, it's just pure cuteness.
5.  Today I know I have three shadows.  Most folks just have one.  Sis and Fin are the other two.  If I change rooms, guess who else does?

6.  And finally, add another scalp to Fin's belt.  The chief has fallen hard for her despite trying not to appear disloyal to his main squeeze, Sis.  And... another one bites the dust.                                                        

Hud and Fin

The experiment begins.  We are critter sitting the Small's dog, Finley, and so far, she is a PEACH.  Because none of the usual grand-dog sitters were available, we got to have her.  I've already kept her when Hudson was a baby so we're "acquainted".  She even slept under the covers with me back then so I already know this teeny little Malti Poo is zero trouble.

I wish I could say the same for Sis. Sis has already "sampled" Finley's food but the reverse is not true.  Let's just say Fin's manners are w-a-y better than Sis's and Sis's food is probably not near as tasty as Fin's.  Given that Sis is a big fan of alley trash, that's not saying a lot.  After another round of stomach upset following an episode of trash binging, she's back on antibiotics.  After this, I think her dad has dropped the hammer on further alley trashing at night before bed.  We can only hope so.   Sis will eat anything.  I think she's part goat.

Sis is also suddenly very "needsie".  She needs reassurance that she's still numero uno, biggest and bestest, Queen of EVERYTHING.  After that, and a kiss or two, she's fine.  Not a growl, not a peep.  Nada.

The Smalls are taking Hudson to camp and that's why Fin was not invited.  This is his first time at spend the night camp and two pals he knows are going also.  My bet is, he will have one bout of homesickness just like everybody does the first year, and then not want to come home.  I'm so excited for him.  A new world is about to open up for him and he's going to absolutely love it.  Yay, camp!!!!!  Love you, Hudson! 

 

***This was intended for yesterday but I had technical difficulties.  Bummer.

Happy 4th!

Poo-Pooers

This morning I was thinking about guns being openly carried at Target's around the country (BAD idea) and then my brain went to this old memory.  I remembered one winter going to the much anticipated (by me anyway) Camp Longhorn Carnival.  It followed my first year as a camper and I was in LOVE.  I could not wait to get a dose of camp in the middle of winter.

So, I went, I had a ball, saw Tex and Pat and lots of campers and as part of the Carnival, I got a Raffle ticket.  Didn't think much about until right before they got ready to call the number.  Suddenly I KNEW they were going to call my number.  I was sure of it.  Tex reached in, fished around and out came his hand with a number.  Holding my ticket, I waited.  When he called out the number, sure enough, it was MY NUMBER.  I almost keeled over.

Now, I don't remember if I picked my prize or if they just gave it to me but knowing me, I picked it.  And what did I pick but none other than a bolt action 22 rifle just like the one I'd passed my bar on (or whatever they called it back then) the previous summer.  I had learned all the parts of the gun, shot to a certain level in all three positions required, could load and unload safely, and knew where and how to work the safety.  Honey, Annie Oakley had nothing on me.  I was thrilled out. of. my. mind. and I was twelve years old.

The minute I got home, I went upstairs, found my dad, and told him I'd "won a rifle".  He was reading something and barely looked over the top of his glasses at me before poo-pooing that I'd won a damn rifle.  First he tried to tell me it was an air rifle...then a BB gun... when the box clearly said bolt action 22 RIFLE, damn it.  Poo pooing me again.  He never even looked at the box.  Finally I opened the box and handed him the barrel and asked him to help me tighten it in place, and that's when he looked up.

He almost jumped out of the chair telling me "this is a rifle".  No, duh, Dad. I know that.  I later overheard him tell my mother I had "come home from the Longhorn Carnival with a RIFLE ....what kind of Camp is that?" and that's when I heard my mother tell him, laughing, "I know.  I heard the whole thing.  She tried to tell you it was a RIFLE but you wouldn't listen."  

I strutted around like a rooster for three days.   

Weekend wrap up

Saturday's trip to the Farmer's Market did not yield what I'd hoped.  The peaches we tried were OK--not great--and ditto on the tomatoes.  So, the planned cobblers in my mini skillets did not happen.  Yes, I could have made ones with berries but I wanted peaches.

So, as any little kid with a new toy would do, I simply had to play with one this morning.  I cooked my egg in one.  Waaaay fun and it's opened up a whole new avenue in cooking for me.  I can see these as a breakfast skillet on a cold (or even hot) Sunday morning or night filled with hash browns, cheese, green onion, crumbled bacon or sausage, and eggs.  Salsa?  Of course.  Cilantro?  Why not.
                                                          

Or, individual skillets of rolls for the roll eaters around my house (everyone).  Or chicken pot pies.  Don't even get me started on the desserts or I'll lose my mind.

 A gentle rain is falling here and Sis is doing what she does best.  Nap. If she could read--and I'm not positive she can't--she'd never get out of bed, period.  Warm snoozy hound.  Nothing better. 

FINALLY!!

My head is still spinning from yesterday and I can hardly believe it's OVER.  Finally.  After an almost ten year lawsuit against my family's company that went on to the Appeals Court and then on to the Texas Supreme Court, we got word yesterday that....WE WON.  Because our case would be setting a precedent in Texas, the Supreme Court took it's time releasing it's findings--almost 2 1/2 years--and yesterday was an EARTHQUAKE.

To say that this was a whipping of epic proportions and an exercise in ugly does not even begin to tell the tale.  The lessons learned at our end were valuable-- and painful.  The other side??  Hard to say what, if anything, they learned but, boy, howdy, we sure did.

When I went by yesterday to tell mom, she was at lunch.  At first I could tell she was not with the party at all, so I just visited and continued on.  Since she was one of the people named in the lawsuit and her dad started our company, I figured she might get the drift if I continued, and honey, she DID.

When I told her we won, her face lit up, her eyes sparkled, she hollered out, and then choked, and started laughing!  She yelled so loud she scared a lady at the table with us who had dozed off.  I could tell she wanted me to tell it again, so I did, and as I came to the end she yelled "WE WON!"

Those are the first intelligible words she has said in 2-3 weeks.

 For the person who initiated the lawsuit, I can only be grateful she did NOT prevail and, oddly, I feel sorry for her.  What she set in motion is only coming back at her and there's simply no place to hide.  Greed will do that.

This was her plan for our company (and more) and she was almost successful.  Bad news for her?  She got it instead.                                   

Snoopage Scoopage---update

                                                               

This update is hot off the press, straight from the front yard.  I put on my PI badge and here's what I found out: My block source says that super shy walking lady's name is actually Ruth, and she has lived with her elderly mom, for maybe 15 years.  It seems her mom was doing her usual chores --whatever that is at 96--when she keeled over and died.  Ruth then called 911 but her mom was ...well... already dead.  Boom.  Outta there.  Nice way to exit.

Now for the reported smell.  My source says it was actually a dead squirrel that the source was standing practically on top of, and that was the horrible smell--NOT Ruth's dead mother.  (If you aren't laughing now I give up.)

Truth be told, I honestly liked the other story better.  Much more sensational and dramatic. 

Snooping...

                                                                

Lord love me....I can get myself in more pickles than most sane folks.  Last night as we were walking Sis after dinner, we started talking about the house in the next block down--right where we were at the time--where someone had died last week and had not been found for several days.  Wow...the stench was awwwwful and I guess that's what made someone finally call 911.

Anyway, occasionally I'd see a lady about my age mowing the yard, and walking, but never anyone else.  She was nice enough but NOT a talker and very shy.  I simply could not imagine she was the one who had died, so my big fat idea was for us to walk down the driveway and snoop around and see if there was anyone inside.  While I kept Sis, Bruce (HEAD SNOOPER) walked down the driveway and comes hauling back saying there's a light on inside and that he thinks there's someone in the house.  Seeing him run like a scaredy cat made me howl so I suggest we both go back, with our ghost buster, Sis.  So we did.  Just as I'm taking it all in, I see movement out of the corner of my eye and it's the shy lady walker looking out the window, wondering what in the world we (I) are/am doing snooping around down her driveway.

I sheepishly wave and realize I am ALL ALONE, and that Bruce and Sis have hauled it up the driveway to the sidewalk, in front of the house.  You know... normal people territory.  I immediately turn and take the walk of shame back up the driveway where Head Snooper is now howling.  Even Sis is laughing. I am sooo busted.

I STILL don't know who died but my mission is to find out.  I'm thinking maybe shy walker lady may have lived with her elderly mother (?) but where was she for several days when whoever it was, died?   Stay tuned as I attempt to solve this mystery and stay out of trouble.  Maybe. 

Lazy Saturday

While Sis is gone with her dad to get a mani/pedi at the vet, I harvested my basil on the driveway.  No, I'm NOT willing to trim her claws myself because I ALWAYS hit the quick, she yips and acts like I've tried to cut off her paws and that's just more drama than I can handle.  As it is, she gets to go in the car--even if it IS to her least favorite place on Earth--and she gets to come home with her BFF.  It's not like she's staying-- but you can't convince her of that so don't bother. 

Here she is now and the good news is she's lost the two pounds her doctor wanted her to lose so she's a lean, mean, fighting machine with trimmed nails.  Go, Sis!!  She did the usual shakes on the way over in protest of going to "that place where NOTHING GOOD happens" but hung her head out with ears flying the entire way home.  How do you spell relief?  Riding HOME.

 This pic is not representative of how much basil is truly in the red bucket and the small container next to it but here is what all I cut.

The angle makes the bucket look small and it's anything but!  What you can't see is a new basil plant at 11 o'clock in the aloe vera pot that went rogue and is doing it's own thing from last years seeds.  He's going to run out of room in that pot so I may try and transplant him today and see if he can handle the stress.  He's the good specie--Genovese--that has those giant big floppy leaves that fit perfectly on a tomato slice. Like this:

Is it lunchtime yet????

Stuff

                                                             
Here's how my life is going....another week of this thing sitting right where it is until the Magnatron comes in and can be installed.  Oh, yeah....I don't want to forget this part, too.  The Grand Canyon in the kitchen where this baby used to be. It's enormous. Yes, I can still cook but aesthetically, this is just WRONG. 

I never realized how much I relied on my micro for just super quick stuff and I hate looking at that...... hole.  Enough whining.  Just wanted to be sure you felt my pain.                                              

And speaking of pain, I'm not sure Sis is feeling all that great.  As her resident Vet Tech, I'm thinking her meds for her Cushing's disease are giving her an upset tummy.  Her dad thinks it's her "trashing" but I haven't seen much of that lately.  Maybe when he lets her out at night she gets busy.  (eye roll)

Essentially, she's on chemo and we all know that makes you feel lousy.  After med's for her recent gastritis, she was a totally different girl so she may win herself a trip to the Vet today.  Right now she is "under observation" on my clinical decision unit in the den.  With nothing to report to the Vet other than she's just not herself, that's not a lot to go on and that means blood work.  Definitely not her favorite or my check books.

Our blackberry bushes are producing but I think we may have some weirdness going on with them.  Lots of the berries start out and then poop out, never getting all big and juicy.  Don't know if the bushes are just too young and undeveloped to handle the load or what, but I'll be researching to see what the deal is. 


Am giving blogging a go when the spirit moves me so maybe you see me, maybe you don't.  That's how I roll these days. 

Young Ages in Preston Center...remember?

An old buried memory popped up this morning, that of shopping with my mother as a young child.  Invariably it would be at Young Ages that was located in Preston Center where a string of restaurants have come and gone.  It was on the corner and I'll have to go see what restaurant is currently there.  Can't remember.

Anywho, depending on the time of day and mom's mood, shopping could either go well or head straight for hell with me strapped to it.  Mom's grandiosity would occasionally rear its ugly head to the sales lady and if it did, I knew to go hide in the clothes rounders and pretend she was NOT MY MOTHER.  Oh, HELL NO.  Who IS that lady???

She used to embarrass the crud out of all three of us when she got going and I remember somehow knowing even as a little kid, that my mom's behavior was not OK.  It was like shopping with Lady Astor. Having never worked even a day in her life, mom was always sure the staff was slow and inefficient and that she knew how to do it better.

If it was one of those days, I could count on the fact that we were going to lock horns over every ugly ass dress they had and I was going to be trying them on, too.  Mom even went so far as to buy several of them, over my protest that I was NEVER going to wear "that sack with the big bow on the chest" but buy it she did.  I shoved them as far back in my closet as possible and piled other things in front and over them, so she'd forget they were there.  I'd take the tags off so she'd think they were worn, if  she ever found them.  Once I'd outgrown them, what could she do except pitch them?  Not a damn thing.

Since I was #3, I think she finally figured out her system was not working and that it was easier and more fiscally wise just let me have what I liked.  Seldom was it horrible--certainly no worse than any of her's--and the power struggle finally d-ie-d.  When I got to pick, we were in and out in a heartbeat.

I just remember that there was nothing in this world more fun than driving mom crazy, with my sister as my accomplice, jazzing around and playing, while mom seethed. Those poor sales ladies at Young Ages.  I'm sure they saw it ALL.

Makes me evil laugh just to think about it.

Get your tickets

                                                                    

Step right up. Tickets for the Emotional Roller Coaster are for sale and the line forms to the left, please.  No kidding....after a beautiful and serene Easter, today I finally heard back from mom's Geriatrician who agreed to pull mom off all her meds, except comfort ones.  Lovely high (Easter)-- followed by a sad low (today).  Man, life is a doozie sometimes.

Though I've never met mom's doctor--she's only been there a month or so--we had an immediate rapport on the phone.  Her beliefs around death and dying are like a hand in glove fit with mine and mom's, and while I realize everyone may not feel the way we three do, it's comforting to be able to do EXACTLY what your mom asked you to do, with complete support and willingness on the part of the person who can make it happen. Both she and the Hospice doctor were in agreement and that's all I needed.

When she asked me why mom was still ON some of her meds, I had to laugh.  I told her because "no one bothered to take her OFF", and she laughed and said "Well, I sure would have!"  (She's mom's third doctor in the four years she's been there so there ya go.)  I told her I wanted mom comfortable or as comfortable as we can make her-- for the time she has remaining.  Clean and comfortable.  That's my #1 concern.

Today I realized just how grateful I am for my Nursing education, knowledge, and experience.  You can't do what you don't know to do--or how to do--and you can't police it for someone else-- unless you know.  Knowledge is power wrapped in kindness.

#TBT

                                                      

                                                        

Remember these?  Nothing better for breakfast in the whole world than a slice of this.  I texted my sister today telling her I was going to make one figuring it would make her laugh.  We used to make these and then practically girl fight over the last piece.  We always made them tart just because that's how we liked them.  Plus, you had to cut that Eagle Brand milk somehow or it would KILL you.  Deadly stuff and even though the store bought crust was card boardy and practically flavorless--it was just part of the whole experience.


For old time sake, I bought a prefab crust for #tbt but on second thought, I may not be able to stand it. Just entirely tooooo gross. 

I may have to be a purist and go with a homemade crust.  OOO, la la. 

                                               

Onward

With this latest major hack job into all of our emails and passwords we clearly need to change them all but are being told not to do it until a new and improved fire wall can be established.  I get it but when's that likely to happen and what do you do in the meantime?  Radio silence.  Guess there's just not an answer for everything is there?

Thank you to all for your condolences on the close but no cigar Mokey situation.  My partner and I are both feeling much better though still disappointed.  Rats. Rats. Rats.  After I found out he wasn't coming Wednesday, I went and did one of the things I know to do when my heart feels like it's been ripped right out of my chest.  I went next door and played with Claire and baby John and gave them some little Easter candy I'd gotten them.  (Yes, it was late afternoon candy before dinner so color me a lousy neighbor but whatever.)   Baby John wasn't really sure what it was but Claire knew immediately.  After a few smooches on both kids, I was ready to leap small buildings in a single bound......ahhhh.... the power of LOVE.

Sis continues to reign supreme and for the last two nights has gotten her dad to take her for a ride in the car vs a walk.  What he doesn't know is that this is now
THE LAW unto SIS and the first night he doesn't want to there will be hell to pay.  I can't wait.  Watching this battle will be almost as good as watching a Scandal rerun.

Happy weekend to all.  

Sad news

                                                               

For those not on my FB page, the scoop is Mokey is NOT coming.  His family gave him to a friend of theirs.  The friend was to keep him while they were out of town over the weekend and the friend, knowing they were giving him away, asked to keep him.  Yes, they had contacted the Rescue Dachshund people about placing him, said they would, yada, yada, yada.  They bailed.  I guess at least now their little girl can see him at their friend's house.  (I'm working really  hard to be generous here because I'd personally like to dog-nap him.)  But truth be told, I'd probably have done the exact same thing they did AND I still don't like it.  No sir, I don't.

The weirdest part is this morning early I had a premonition that either his family would decide to keep him or the people fostering him would.  Bingo.  The latter.   I told myself to stop "awfulizing"--- but it was still in my head because I even told my hairdresser about it today--he's a fellow doxie person.  When I texted Kevin late this afternoon to tell him no Mokey, he was stunned and then remembered me telling him my weird premonition.  Sometimes my knower just knows stuff.  Don't know how or why but it does--- even when I don't want to believe it.

So, that's that.  I'm crushed.  I'm sad.  I'm disappointed.  I'm going to feel it all and when I'm done, move on. 
The good news?  I still have that slick black hound that I love to pieces and that's a lot.

Pokey, Mokey

No news yet and I have made a deal with myself that if we have not heard from the Dachshund people by tonight, I can text them.  Patience is just not something I do well especially when it surrounds a DOG, and one I have seen a picture of....that's like having candy dangled in your face and snatched away.

While the little kid in me wants to go all toddler in Target meltdown city, the adult in me knows that while that might feeeeeeel good for a second, it's NOT how grown ups act.  Forcing a solution is never a good idea.  That much I know for sure.

So while I attempt to build more character and virtues, stay tuned.  He's so close I can almost smellllllllll him. And since I'm obsessing anyway, I'm thinking this is close to how he must have looked as a puppy.  omg. 

Expectations

Boy, howdy.  Over the weekend I failed to live up to someone else's expectations and did I ever feel the heat.  A neighbor down the block who is and has been separated from her husband for well over a year, expected me to join in on her verbal Tae Kwondo of her husband who has moved on, so to speak. 

I didn't, and expressed my opinion to her that since she can't do anything about his part and what all she feels he's done wrong, she might take a look at hers, since that's the only part she can change, going forward.  I told her in my experience, a relationship has two sides and the truth is generally somewhere in the middle.  3...2...1  Kaboom.

 She wasn't buying anything I had to say.  She gathered her forces and tried again trying to force me to see it her way.  I refused to play.  She shook three pictures she'd printed off FB  that "prove he's cheating on me". They didn't. 

Wow.  When you don't do what someone else wants/expects you to do, you're going to feel the heat.  Stand your ground anyway. Their stuff is their stuff.  Let them deal with it.                                

Wiener dog adoption update

As of an hour ago, here's where we are.  Mokey's people are out of town until Monday so that means until they are back and until the dachshund rescue people can take him to the Vet to be all checked out, we can only lick the picture we have of him...and yeah, I said lick....because right now I could.  His face reminds me of Wigman's but his dapples make him his very own self.  I can't wait to see what he's like in person.  I may faint...

So, maybe next week sometime we will get to meet him and more importantly he will have his audience with Her Canine Royal Highness.  As long as there is no major growling or blood shed, we are good.  We already know Sis is a big old pig--bed hog, bone hog, food hog, etc. so none of that will come as a surprise.  For him maybe but not us.  It will hopefully be like bringing another baby home from the hospital (after the first one), only this one is grown up, is potty trained, and much less of a hassle in general.  Or not.  It could be a freaking nightmare but at least no diapers are involved. 

Some of you have seen his picture.  Some not.  Don't know who the little girl is but I'd take her, too.  Adorbs.  Totally.  

Uh, oh

Recently my partner expressed interest in several dogs on the Dachshund Lovers of Texas Rescue site and we ooohed and ahhhed over them.  I finally told him that if this is what he wanted to do, he had to pull the trigger and fill out the online forms.  Clearly he's interested because he sat right down and did it.  Then we got a call from a gentleman from DLof T saying we needed a "home visit", and they came by yesterday.

What is it about animal people that's so immediately bonding?  In a word, they were delightful.  Both are teachers and live in Merriman Park where Wiggles breeder lived before his death.  They met Sis, who was on her very best behavior, and ended with us all in the backyard yakking our heads off.  What was initially intended as a fifteen minute visit became forty five minutes of laughter, (Sis shooting out her puppy door at warp speed) stories of dogs in our respective pasts, and what feels like the beginning of a brand new friendship.  They told us about dogs that are currently available but were not pushy in the slightest.  These two really know what they are doing and when they saw Sis's set up, laughed, admitting we are all owned by dogs--not the other way around. 

They mentioned one dog that will be available soon that could be a nice fit (they have to finish vetting him and find out any health specifics) and told us to check their website often and holler about any pup that might interest us. They agreed another female might not be the right fit-- and I don't want one anyway--no offense, Sis.  I want a neutered man dog and when asked about color, I said a smooth whatever.  I'll know when I see and meet him if we have a connection.  Next we have a meet and greet with Sis and maybe a one night spend the night to see how things go.  If he's not happy, or Sis isn't, that's a deal breaker.  (3:00 AM howlers need not apply.)

We assured them we are not in a **rush.  We want the right dog in the right situation and already know there will be an adjustment period for all of us. What we want is a laid back lounge lizard lap dog, closer to the cradle than the grave.  Order placed.   

**  I'm thinking maybe we should call them back this afternoon and tell them as soon as they know more about the one we discussed, we'd like to meet him. **