I went to "Stuffmart" (as my friend Junosmom calls it) last night to get a few items. Not even that much of it was groceries. I needed a new blow-dryer. Egads! What's this world coming to? One of the biggest reasons I always kept my hair so short was so I didn't have to spend time styling it in the mornings... no need for a hairbrush, no need for a blowdryer, no need for a curling iron, no need for barretts, clips or headbands. Now that I'm letting it grow out for effect come St. Baldricks, it requires all of those items. The blowdryer I had, I'd had for many years, and hadn't used in many years. Somehow, it had developed a short in the wiring, and it would cut in and out while using it. That made me nervous, so a new dryer was in order.
As I stood gazing at the shelves of blowdryers, I was overwhelmed. Cool-buttons, ionic blowers, professional vs. (non-professional?) dryers, even though they both looked identical, air diffusers, etc., etc. Ionic blowers?? Are they serious?? **sigh** I settled on a Vidal Sassoon, professional model, ionic blower with a difuser and a cool button. I admit, my hair was fluffier than usual this morning. Perhaps these items really do make a difference.
As I scanned the check-out lanes, I took a gamble and got into the one, although not shorter than the one next to it, the people in front of me appearred to have fewer items in their carts, so I thought they'd possibly move faster than the lane with loaded down carts. Well, it was just that, a gamble, and it was one I lost.
The cashier moved at a snails pace. This girl, Kristin, approx. 18 or so years of age, couldn't have taken longer to check us out had she deliberately tried. Not only was she moving her hands/arms at a slow pace, she kept having to talk to everyone... and you all know by now how much I despise "talkers". It's bad enough to constantly chatter while working, but this girl seemed incapable of doing both at the same time. I suppose it's much like someone that can't walk and chew gum at the same time. She literally had to stop what she was doing to talk. Argh!! The woman in front of me had a 2-year old with her, and Kristin kept having to stop and baby-talk and play cutesie with the kid. I just wanted to scream!!! The lady behind me was just as exasperated as I was, and we could only look at one another and shake our heads.
Once it was finally my turn, Kristin asked me how I was doing. I muttered "fine", and tried to avoid eye contact, lest my stare cause her to fall over dead. I sighed aloud and she commented that I looked tired. I gave her a whithering look and said "I'm tired of standing in this line."
I swiped my debit card, and waited for her to finish scanning my stuff. As she was scanning the last item, I reached towards my purse to get the coupon I had for dogfood. I handed it to her, but apparently I wasn't fast enough. Suddenly something had lit a fire under Kristin, because before I could hand her the coupon, she'd totaled out my order and printed off the receipt. It was too late for her to take the coupon off, and she told me thus.
I'm sorry, but aren't cashiers supposed to ask you if you have any coupons before they total out your order?? This is one of the few things I want to hear out of a cashiers mouth. My Chatty-Kathy, I mean Kristin, cashier, who hadn't shut up the whole time I stood in line, had suddenly gone speechless and now I couldn't use my coupon? I snatched the receipt from her and told her in a rather hateful tone: If you'd quit talking so much, you could get people through this line a lot faster.
Yes, yes, I know what some of you are going to say... I could've just taken the receipt and coupon up to the service desk and they'd have given me the money for it. I know that. But I was feeling murderous, and really didn't want to have to stand in another line at that point. I felt it safest for everyone if I just left the store.
I know Stuffmart has the lowest prices (for the most part), but I can't help but wonder if it's really worth the money I save, considering the aggrevation I have to go through.
ps, my spell-check isn't working, so forgive any spelling errors.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
GMA
Well this day started off on a weepy note. My mornings just aren't complete unless I get to watch at least the first 45 minutes of Good Morning America while I get ready for work. Fortunately, I hadn't started to put on my make-up yet, 'cause if I had, I'd have had to start over. I couldn't help but cry as I listened to anchor Robin Roberts tell the world that she had breast cancer. Good grief, she's the picture of health! Rarely if ever drinks coffee or sodas, works out, is in great shape! If it can happen to her, it can happen to anyone. Then when I read her blog this morning, I couldn't help but start to cry all over again. I adore my GMA anchors!
**sigh**
**sigh**
Monday, July 30, 2007
Weekend in review
This reviews a little more than the weekend... it also includes last thurs/fri.
Thursday was slated to be a "girls night" with some of my neighborhood girlfriends. Five of us were gathering for food, fun, and an evening away from our husbands and children. Oh, and as I discovered at 3:30 Thursday afternoon, it was our hostess' birthday. Oh my goodness! I started checking with the other girls, none of them were aware of it. As our hostess' husband was out of town, and she had no family locally to celebrate with, it looked like we were it. So now it was time to scramble and turn our girls night into a surprise birthday party as well.
I started making calls. "J", in addition to the cold-veggie pizza she'd made, also whipped up a birthday cake. "K", I now had her scrap her plans for brownies, and directed her to get ice cream and make queso. I never could get a hold of "C" to get balloons, so we did without those. I stopped and got a card, then started sneaking through backyards to get everyones signature before "party" time, so that the birthday-girl ("S") wouldn't see me.
"S" was surprised, and we had such a good time. And we didn't even bash one of our husbands, not one single time!
My plans to doggy-sit for the weekend were scrapped at the last minute, as our breeder had to cancel her plans to go to a dogshow, so now I was free to do whatever. The husband and I went to the Pewee Valley summer picnic. Not a lot of activities there, but they had a free concert performed by the Monarchs... a local band that's been around since the early 60's.
They even had guest singers, Bill Summitt (sp?) from another "rival" band The Trendells, and also two of their original members, now retired, George Owens & Mike Gibson.
John went to this concert filled with trepidation, as he thought he'd be listening 
to elevator music, but was surprised, and admitted he had a good time.
to elevator music, but was surprised, and admitted he had a good time.Yesterday was spent lounging in the pool, which for some reason had a chilly 74 degree temperature in it. Brr!
Have a great week everyone!!
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Pet Peeve
I've yet another pet-peeve to gripe about.
Serving sodas at a function/party.
Sodas should be served cold.
This doesn't mean, pour a hot (room temp.) soda over ice and that will suffice as serving cold.
No, sodas should be cold, prior to pouring over ice.
Know why?
Because if you pour a hot soda over ice, then it melts the ice a lot quicker, thus diluting the drink and making it taste flat and watered-down really fast. **BLECH!!** Who wants to drink that?
Okay, I'm done with my gripe.
Serving sodas at a function/party.
Sodas should be served cold.
This doesn't mean, pour a hot (room temp.) soda over ice and that will suffice as serving cold.
No, sodas should be cold, prior to pouring over ice.
Know why?
Because if you pour a hot soda over ice, then it melts the ice a lot quicker, thus diluting the drink and making it taste flat and watered-down really fast. **BLECH!!** Who wants to drink that?
Okay, I'm done with my gripe.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Oprah
I'm not a particular fan of Oprah... I don't mean to imply that I dislike her or her show, it's just that it's going off the air as I'm getting home from work, so I rarely have the opportunity to watch it. And it does me little good to try and tape shows, as I never seem to have time (or take the time) to go back and watch them.
Anyway, while channel surfing over the weekend, I caught the last half of her "After the Show" show. There was little else on at the time, so I watched it.
It was the one time in my life I wish I'd been there as a part of the studio audience, as I would so much have liked to have put my 2-cents worth in on the topic they were discussing.
There was a young couple that had been trying, unsuccessfully, to have a child. She kept getting all weepy whenever Oprah or anyone else tried to give her advice. Oprah's advice was actually good. And I'm not saying my advice would've been any better, or made the girl feel any better, but I certainly know from personal experience what she was going through, but I also know, in my years of maturity(?) that what Oprah was saying was very true also.
There is a "master plan" for each of us, and none of us knows what that plan is. All we can do is take each day as it comes and make the most of it.
Oh how VERY TRUE these words are!
Even simple plans can go awry. Don't believe me?... try being married to a volunteer firefighter! If you've ever had your dinner plans messed up, or been left stranded at the grocery store, or sitting alone in a restaurant, then you'll understand about how plans can change in a hurry.
Once upon a time, having children (2 or 3) was all I wanted out of life. But now, I look at it as a blessing that I never had any. I was meant for other things... even if that other thing was to save a deaf/blind great dane from the executioner. I'm sure there are still other things out there in life I was meant for, I just don't know what. But hopefully, I'll recognize it when it comes along.
Anyway, while channel surfing over the weekend, I caught the last half of her "After the Show" show. There was little else on at the time, so I watched it.
It was the one time in my life I wish I'd been there as a part of the studio audience, as I would so much have liked to have put my 2-cents worth in on the topic they were discussing.
There was a young couple that had been trying, unsuccessfully, to have a child. She kept getting all weepy whenever Oprah or anyone else tried to give her advice. Oprah's advice was actually good. And I'm not saying my advice would've been any better, or made the girl feel any better, but I certainly know from personal experience what she was going through, but I also know, in my years of maturity(?) that what Oprah was saying was very true also.
There is a "master plan" for each of us, and none of us knows what that plan is. All we can do is take each day as it comes and make the most of it.
Oh how VERY TRUE these words are!
Even simple plans can go awry. Don't believe me?... try being married to a volunteer firefighter! If you've ever had your dinner plans messed up, or been left stranded at the grocery store, or sitting alone in a restaurant, then you'll understand about how plans can change in a hurry.
Once upon a time, having children (2 or 3) was all I wanted out of life. But now, I look at it as a blessing that I never had any. I was meant for other things... even if that other thing was to save a deaf/blind great dane from the executioner. I'm sure there are still other things out there in life I was meant for, I just don't know what. But hopefully, I'll recognize it when it comes along.
Cravings
I've been having cravings of late, and I don't mean for food items.
Well, okay, maybe one of them is a food item...
There's a little ice-cream stand on the side of the road, that's been there it seems 4-EVER, or at least some 50+ years. It's over in Lanesville, Indiana, and is called Polly's Freeze. It was always such a treat when I was a kid to go there for soft-serve sherbet. It's the only place I've ever found that serves the stuff, and they have flavors the like of which I've never found in my grocers freezer. Good Stuff! to be sure. I'm taking some of my girlfriends there one night next week for a girls-night out. Can't wait!!
My other craving is for some thrill-rides, rollercoaster style. It seems like forever since I last went to an amusement park, I know in reality it was probably four or five years ago , but it still seems like forever. I'm a rollercoaster junky. The husband loves them too, but with his bum knee, he doesn't think he can handle all the walking and standing in line. He's right of course, so my craving will just have to be put on hold for a while. **sigh**
Honestly though, is there anything more fun than being strapped into a seat, then sent hurtling through the air at high speeds, speeding down steep hills, turned upside down and shaken from side to side (as long as it's not an real car wreck!)??? It sounds like a keen time to me!
Well, okay, maybe one of them is a food item...
There's a little ice-cream stand on the side of the road, that's been there it seems 4-EVER, or at least some 50+ years. It's over in Lanesville, Indiana, and is called Polly's Freeze. It was always such a treat when I was a kid to go there for soft-serve sherbet. It's the only place I've ever found that serves the stuff, and they have flavors the like of which I've never found in my grocers freezer. Good Stuff! to be sure. I'm taking some of my girlfriends there one night next week for a girls-night out. Can't wait!!
My other craving is for some thrill-rides, rollercoaster style. It seems like forever since I last went to an amusement park, I know in reality it was probably four or five years ago , but it still seems like forever. I'm a rollercoaster junky. The husband loves them too, but with his bum knee, he doesn't think he can handle all the walking and standing in line. He's right of course, so my craving will just have to be put on hold for a while. **sigh**
Honestly though, is there anything more fun than being strapped into a seat, then sent hurtling through the air at high speeds, speeding down steep hills, turned upside down and shaken from side to side (as long as it's not an real car wreck!)??? It sounds like a keen time to me!
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Identity
The husband and I were standing outside of the Little Colonel Playhouse this past weekend, waiting to meet someone. While standing around, we were looking at the different plays that were scheduled to be performed this year. Among those on the list was "Ten Little Indians". Imagine my surprise when the husband commented: Ooh, I bet that'd be a good one to see.
I was surprised, because I can't imagine my husband ever sitting through a play, regardless of what it's about.
Okay, so here's where my ignorance kicks in. While I'd heard of the movie "Ten Little Indians" before, I'd never seen it, nor had any idea what it was about. I assumed it was some kind of western... you know, a cowboys & indians kind of movie. To me, that would be a real snooze-fest. Since this is what I was imagining, it surprised me even more that the husband had an interest in seeing it, as I've never known him to watch those kinds of movies either, and I expressed my surprise to him: a western?
He proceeded to tell me about the plot of 10 strangers gathering at some isolated place... like in "Identity"?, I suggested...
There was a heavy rain, and... like in "Identity"?.... and they find out they've all got one thing in common... again, like in "Identity"?... (by now he was getting disgusted with my interruptions)... and they each get murdered, one by one... so again I say, just like in "Identity"?
Yeah, yeah, okay, just like in "Identity".
In case you're wondering what "Identity" is, it's a John Cusak movie from three or four years ago... really good! It caused me to suck my breath in sharply on more than one occasion and grab the arm-rest of my chair. I highly recommend it.
I was surprised, because I can't imagine my husband ever sitting through a play, regardless of what it's about.
Okay, so here's where my ignorance kicks in. While I'd heard of the movie "Ten Little Indians" before, I'd never seen it, nor had any idea what it was about. I assumed it was some kind of western... you know, a cowboys & indians kind of movie. To me, that would be a real snooze-fest. Since this is what I was imagining, it surprised me even more that the husband had an interest in seeing it, as I've never known him to watch those kinds of movies either, and I expressed my surprise to him: a western?
He proceeded to tell me about the plot of 10 strangers gathering at some isolated place... like in "Identity"?, I suggested...
There was a heavy rain, and... like in "Identity"?.... and they find out they've all got one thing in common... again, like in "Identity"?... (by now he was getting disgusted with my interruptions)... and they each get murdered, one by one... so again I say, just like in "Identity"?
Yeah, yeah, okay, just like in "Identity".
In case you're wondering what "Identity" is, it's a John Cusak movie from three or four years ago... really good! It caused me to suck my breath in sharply on more than one occasion and grab the arm-rest of my chair. I highly recommend it.
Too much time on my hands today
I have an inquiring mind, and I often turn to either the dictionary or google (as long as I'm near a computer) to find my answers. The dictionary we have is almost 30 years old, so let's face it, there are a lot of things in existence that will never be found in our dictionary. Yes, it's time for a new dictionary... but why bother, when the computer contains so much info &/or more in-depth info?
I know this will seem totally random to you, but I've often wondered what the difference between a cow and an ox was. I assumed (correctly) an ox was of the bovine family, but perhaps was a larger animal. I was wrong.
According to the dictionary, an ox is nothing more than a castrated bull, or a member of the bovine family. In other words, it's a cow. Hmm, what a let-down.
I turned to google, looking for more info. Did you know they used to shoe oxen, much like horses were shod? Not in the same manner though, as cattle can't stand on three legs while the procedure is being done. So it's quite possible that if you've ever come across an old "horse"-shoe, that it might've actually been an ox-shoe.
I know this will seem totally random to you, but I've often wondered what the difference between a cow and an ox was. I assumed (correctly) an ox was of the bovine family, but perhaps was a larger animal. I was wrong.
According to the dictionary, an ox is nothing more than a castrated bull, or a member of the bovine family. In other words, it's a cow. Hmm, what a let-down.
I turned to google, looking for more info. Did you know they used to shoe oxen, much like horses were shod? Not in the same manner though, as cattle can't stand on three legs while the procedure is being done. So it's quite possible that if you've ever come across an old "horse"-shoe, that it might've actually been an ox-shoe.
Begging for scraps
Last night was grocery night. I made the mistake of taking the husband with me... while I don't mind his company, it sometimes gets expensive when he tags along. I don't know why, but we somehow seem to spend more money when he's along for the ride.
So as I ventured down the bread aisle, I reached for a loaf of one of his beloved "flavored" breads that he likes to have for breakfast. You know, raisin bread, Cinnamon swirl, or some-such-thing. Pepperidge Farms & Sarah Lee are the two bigger distributors of these items. I noticed that the price had gone up on one of brands, (I don't remember now which it was), to $3.18/loaf. Yikes!!
Can't I just fix him a slice of Wal-mart brand white bread and had him a box of raisins instead?
I bought the cheaper of the two brands, which was still like $2.86/loaf, but I kidded with the husband that he'd better hurry up and go back to work so he could once again start getting the out-dated loaves from the bread vendors. Hey, when it's going to be thrown into a toaster anyway, what difference does it make if it's a little stale?
Usually once every couple of weeks when he was working, he'd bring home several loaves of these flavored breads, usually from Pepperidge Farms, and also packages of Thomas' English Muffin-bagels, and sometimes Entemens (sp?) donuts. He'd put a few items in the freezer, and give the rest either to his dad or the firehouse.
This morning, after I'd emerged from the shower, he was dressed and preparing to walk out the door. He was headed to the grocery store(s) he normally delivered to, so he could hit the bread guys up for out-dated items. I was mortified! I stressed to him that I'd only been kidding when I made my comment the night before, but he insisted upon going. So I begged him to make sure nobody knew he was my husband.
He doesn't mind begging for scraps, and with the pitiful, puppy-dog expression he can turn on, I'm sure he'll come home loaded down.
If it ever gets to the point that we're homeless and having to beg for scraps, I've no doubt we'll do quite well at it.
So as I ventured down the bread aisle, I reached for a loaf of one of his beloved "flavored" breads that he likes to have for breakfast. You know, raisin bread, Cinnamon swirl, or some-such-thing. Pepperidge Farms & Sarah Lee are the two bigger distributors of these items. I noticed that the price had gone up on one of brands, (I don't remember now which it was), to $3.18/loaf. Yikes!!
Can't I just fix him a slice of Wal-mart brand white bread and had him a box of raisins instead?
I bought the cheaper of the two brands, which was still like $2.86/loaf, but I kidded with the husband that he'd better hurry up and go back to work so he could once again start getting the out-dated loaves from the bread vendors. Hey, when it's going to be thrown into a toaster anyway, what difference does it make if it's a little stale?
Usually once every couple of weeks when he was working, he'd bring home several loaves of these flavored breads, usually from Pepperidge Farms, and also packages of Thomas' English Muffin-bagels, and sometimes Entemens (sp?) donuts. He'd put a few items in the freezer, and give the rest either to his dad or the firehouse.
This morning, after I'd emerged from the shower, he was dressed and preparing to walk out the door. He was headed to the grocery store(s) he normally delivered to, so he could hit the bread guys up for out-dated items. I was mortified! I stressed to him that I'd only been kidding when I made my comment the night before, but he insisted upon going. So I begged him to make sure nobody knew he was my husband.
He doesn't mind begging for scraps, and with the pitiful, puppy-dog expression he can turn on, I'm sure he'll come home loaded down.
If it ever gets to the point that we're homeless and having to beg for scraps, I've no doubt we'll do quite well at it.
Monday, July 23, 2007
The good, the bad, and the not-so-ugly
I accompanied the husband to the doctor on Friday, when he had his stitches removed. I had great expectations of the doctor informing my husband that he needed to give up the fire department and playing racket-ball, simply because of the conversation the doctor and I had post-op. Well, needless to say, the doctor didn't quite voice those words (like I wanted, HOPED to hear), instead telling the husband all his activities he was engaged in weren't good for his knees. Simple as that. Well duh!!
And so of course the husband has no intention of giving up those activities. I just hope I'm around in 10 or 15 years (if that long) when it's time for knee-replacement surgery, so I can scream out a great big "I TOLD YOU SO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" at him.
MEN!
When we left the dox office, I said, out loud, "Well this was a wasted day"... meaning, why did I bother taking a day off from work just to hear the doctor tell him he was being hard on his knees? The rest of our afternoon was spent at the movie theater. John had a gift card to Tinsletown, so we went and saw "1408". Scary move!, but I liked it.
Saturday afternoon, the husband picked up his father, and they headed out of town to spend the night in Marion Co., so they could attend his nephew's birthday party. I stayed home to care for the children. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
I'm normally dead to the world by 9:30, 10pm at the latest. But for some unknown reason, sleep alluded me, and I stayed up 'til nearly 3 o'clock in the morning, watching t.v. and working sudoku puzzles.
It's no secret, I'm not a fan of reality t.v., and I've always said I'd never watch them. Give me a good comedy or drama and I'm happy. And I think there's nothing more pathetic than a has-been actor that's trying desperately to hang on to their fading career, by creating a reality show for themselves. So let's chalk this next paragraph up under that of: never say never...
There is a new show on VH1, "Scott Baio is 45 and Still Single". Well, I was already awake, and could find nothing else on t.v., and he was a heart-throb from my teen years, so what the heck? Oh my gosh! 30+ years since debuting on "Happy Days", he's still as dreamy as ever!! Not only did I watch the show, I had to set my date-book alarm to remind me to watch the next episode. I'm hooked!! It is a cheezy show, but I do enjoy looking at him soooo much.
And so of course the husband has no intention of giving up those activities. I just hope I'm around in 10 or 15 years (if that long) when it's time for knee-replacement surgery, so I can scream out a great big "I TOLD YOU SO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" at him.
MEN!
When we left the dox office, I said, out loud, "Well this was a wasted day"... meaning, why did I bother taking a day off from work just to hear the doctor tell him he was being hard on his knees? The rest of our afternoon was spent at the movie theater. John had a gift card to Tinsletown, so we went and saw "1408". Scary move!, but I liked it.
Saturday afternoon, the husband picked up his father, and they headed out of town to spend the night in Marion Co., so they could attend his nephew's birthday party. I stayed home to care for the children. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
I'm normally dead to the world by 9:30, 10pm at the latest. But for some unknown reason, sleep alluded me, and I stayed up 'til nearly 3 o'clock in the morning, watching t.v. and working sudoku puzzles.
It's no secret, I'm not a fan of reality t.v., and I've always said I'd never watch them. Give me a good comedy or drama and I'm happy. And I think there's nothing more pathetic than a has-been actor that's trying desperately to hang on to their fading career, by creating a reality show for themselves. So let's chalk this next paragraph up under that of: never say never...
There is a new show on VH1, "Scott Baio is 45 and Still Single". Well, I was already awake, and could find nothing else on t.v., and he was a heart-throb from my teen years, so what the heck? Oh my gosh! 30+ years since debuting on "Happy Days", he's still as dreamy as ever!! Not only did I watch the show, I had to set my date-book alarm to remind me to watch the next episode. I'm hooked!! It is a cheezy show, but I do enjoy looking at him soooo much.
Paradise
Oh my goodness! Could the weather have been any nicer this weekend? It's such a rare treat that I get to turn off the a/c, open the windows, and enjoy no humidity, in JULY no less!!
Highs in the low 80's, low's in the upper 50's... I could live with that kind of weather 365 days a year. It has to be the closest thing to paradise that I'll ever know.
Highs in the low 80's, low's in the upper 50's... I could live with that kind of weather 365 days a year. It has to be the closest thing to paradise that I'll ever know.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Laughable items
I was thumbing through the new LTD catalog (obviously it's a slow day at the office), and I couldn't help but find the following items laughable, if not down right ludicrous!...
#1) Lighted, heated ice scraper.
I'm sorry, I just find this item ridiculous. If any of you have one and find that it works well for you, please, let me know so I can recant my blog.
#2) The cedar closet organizer which displays some women's clothing and linens. The item itself isn't what I find ridiculous, but the items they have displayed on it are. There are 1 pair of sneakers, 2 pair of flip-flops, a pair of house shoes and 3 pair of open-toed heels. Now first of all, I ask you, what woman only has 7 pairs of shoes? And secondly, who puts their house slippers on a rack? Puh-leeze! Mine get left next to the bed so I can put them on ASAP upon getting home. And if I were really honest, the only shoes I have on my organizer are my serious dress-up shoes. All my sandals and boots are in a pile next to my dresser.
And the rest of the phantom-woman's wardrobe consists of 5 blouses on hangers. I see no pants, skirts or dresses. Is this woman going out naked from the waist down?
No, no, I'm sorry, if they're going to show a real woman's closet, then they need to show it crammed with so many hangers you can't possibly get another item in there, and items wadded up and falling off the shelves, instead of neat stacks. There is no such thing as organization in a closet, unless you have a closet the size of Paris Hilton's.
#3) The seatbelt fashion belts. These are belts designed to hold up your pants, but the buckle looks like it came out of an automobile. This item isn't so ridiculous as the girl that's modeling it. Call me crazy, but I think you can see the "shadow" of where her pubes would normally be if they weren't shaved off, her pants are that low. That right there is a turn-off for me!
#4) The vintage light-up phones. Okay, these are in no way "authentic" looking, with the big LCD panel on them. I'm almost positive that LCD didn't exist back in the 1920's or whenever. And I'm almost certain that phones back then didn't have mute, flash, and hands-free buttons on them.
#5) The pet stroller. Why have a dog if you're going to push it around in a baby carriage? I could possibly see it if the pet were in some way injured or handi-capped, and you still wanted to go for a walk... but I really don't think that's what it was designed for. It's a good thing it was designed to hold pets weighing up to 25 lbs., otherwise I might just have to order one for my great danes... NOT!
#6) The indoor wood pet house/night stand.
This wood pet house (obviously designed for smaller dogs) sets right next to your bed and doubles as a night stand. Puh-leeze! Let's face it, if we let our dog(s) into our bedroom in the first place, it's a pretty good bet that the dog will be in your bed with you. And if the pet house/night stand were big enough, you'd make the husband sleep there instead of the dog.
#7) The 7' upside down Christmas Tree.
Do I really need to comment on this one?
#8) Licensed pop-out skates.
Okay, I could spend all day bitchin' about this little item. I'm probably going to offend some parents but that's the chance I'm willing to take. Who in tarnation ever invented these items? Is it asking too much for the children to pick one foot up and place it in front of the other (reads: walk)? Apparently so, as some fool decided we needed to put rollers on the bottom of the childrens tennis shoes so they could roll around the grocery store and department stores, annoying the other shoppers. I was delighted when I recently saw some stores posting signs on their entrances banning the use of these shoes in the store. But then I was disappointed when I realized that many of these parents don't make their children behave in the stores to begin with, so why start now?
#9) Just a few pages over from the indoor pethouse shows a little dog lying on a Beautyrest Heated Mattress Pad, on the bed.
This just proves my point from item #6.
#1) Lighted, heated ice scraper.
I'm sorry, I just find this item ridiculous. If any of you have one and find that it works well for you, please, let me know so I can recant my blog.
#2) The cedar closet organizer which displays some women's clothing and linens. The item itself isn't what I find ridiculous, but the items they have displayed on it are. There are 1 pair of sneakers, 2 pair of flip-flops, a pair of house shoes and 3 pair of open-toed heels. Now first of all, I ask you, what woman only has 7 pairs of shoes? And secondly, who puts their house slippers on a rack? Puh-leeze! Mine get left next to the bed so I can put them on ASAP upon getting home. And if I were really honest, the only shoes I have on my organizer are my serious dress-up shoes. All my sandals and boots are in a pile next to my dresser.
And the rest of the phantom-woman's wardrobe consists of 5 blouses on hangers. I see no pants, skirts or dresses. Is this woman going out naked from the waist down?
No, no, I'm sorry, if they're going to show a real woman's closet, then they need to show it crammed with so many hangers you can't possibly get another item in there, and items wadded up and falling off the shelves, instead of neat stacks. There is no such thing as organization in a closet, unless you have a closet the size of Paris Hilton's.
#3) The seatbelt fashion belts. These are belts designed to hold up your pants, but the buckle looks like it came out of an automobile. This item isn't so ridiculous as the girl that's modeling it. Call me crazy, but I think you can see the "shadow" of where her pubes would normally be if they weren't shaved off, her pants are that low. That right there is a turn-off for me!
#4) The vintage light-up phones. Okay, these are in no way "authentic" looking, with the big LCD panel on them. I'm almost positive that LCD didn't exist back in the 1920's or whenever. And I'm almost certain that phones back then didn't have mute, flash, and hands-free buttons on them.
#5) The pet stroller. Why have a dog if you're going to push it around in a baby carriage? I could possibly see it if the pet were in some way injured or handi-capped, and you still wanted to go for a walk... but I really don't think that's what it was designed for. It's a good thing it was designed to hold pets weighing up to 25 lbs., otherwise I might just have to order one for my great danes... NOT!
#6) The indoor wood pet house/night stand.
This wood pet house (obviously designed for smaller dogs) sets right next to your bed and doubles as a night stand. Puh-leeze! Let's face it, if we let our dog(s) into our bedroom in the first place, it's a pretty good bet that the dog will be in your bed with you. And if the pet house/night stand were big enough, you'd make the husband sleep there instead of the dog.
#7) The 7' upside down Christmas Tree.
Do I really need to comment on this one?
#8) Licensed pop-out skates.
Okay, I could spend all day bitchin' about this little item. I'm probably going to offend some parents but that's the chance I'm willing to take. Who in tarnation ever invented these items? Is it asking too much for the children to pick one foot up and place it in front of the other (reads: walk)? Apparently so, as some fool decided we needed to put rollers on the bottom of the childrens tennis shoes so they could roll around the grocery store and department stores, annoying the other shoppers. I was delighted when I recently saw some stores posting signs on their entrances banning the use of these shoes in the store. But then I was disappointed when I realized that many of these parents don't make their children behave in the stores to begin with, so why start now?
#9) Just a few pages over from the indoor pethouse shows a little dog lying on a Beautyrest Heated Mattress Pad, on the bed.
This just proves my point from item #6.
Brain Fart
I had a major brain-fart yesterday... or a "blonde" moment, if you will... even though I'm not blonde. It almost makes me wonder if alzheimers isn't far off...
I was driving home, headed down I-71 south. As I approached the exit ramp for I-265 south, I pushed the button to turn the cruise control off, and I turned on my right blinker. I merged. I turned the blinker off.
I circled up the ramp, and turned on the left blinker to merge onto I-265 south. And then I just completely went blank.
I couldn't remember how to turn the turn-signal off.
I shouldn't HAVE to remember. It should be a reflex action that's done without thought, just like the beating of my heart. Automatic!
As I was fast approaching my exit, I needed to change the turn-signal to indicate a merge to the right, but I couldn't remember how the turn-signal was operated. I just kept staring at dash and steering wheel, hoping I didn't hit anything ahead of me. I just knew if I stared long enough, it would come to me.
I pushed the button for the cruise control. The cruise light came on... no, that wasn't it.
It must be one of these levers sticking out of the steering column. Flick the one on the right.
Now the windshield wipers started whipping frantically across the dry windshild. No, that wasnt it.
Did I dare flick the other lever? I was running out of options.
I tried it and finally that annoying clicking noise and the blinking green light stopped. Whew!
What the hell happened to me??
I don't think I've ever had such a moment of forgetfullness in all my life!
Good thing I didn't try to move that big lever sticking out of the floor, I might've totally ruined my transmission.
I was driving home, headed down I-71 south. As I approached the exit ramp for I-265 south, I pushed the button to turn the cruise control off, and I turned on my right blinker. I merged. I turned the blinker off.
I circled up the ramp, and turned on the left blinker to merge onto I-265 south. And then I just completely went blank.
I couldn't remember how to turn the turn-signal off.
I shouldn't HAVE to remember. It should be a reflex action that's done without thought, just like the beating of my heart. Automatic!
As I was fast approaching my exit, I needed to change the turn-signal to indicate a merge to the right, but I couldn't remember how the turn-signal was operated. I just kept staring at dash and steering wheel, hoping I didn't hit anything ahead of me. I just knew if I stared long enough, it would come to me.
I pushed the button for the cruise control. The cruise light came on... no, that wasn't it.
It must be one of these levers sticking out of the steering column. Flick the one on the right.
Now the windshield wipers started whipping frantically across the dry windshild. No, that wasnt it.
Did I dare flick the other lever? I was running out of options.
I tried it and finally that annoying clicking noise and the blinking green light stopped. Whew!
What the hell happened to me??
I don't think I've ever had such a moment of forgetfullness in all my life!
Good thing I didn't try to move that big lever sticking out of the floor, I might've totally ruined my transmission.
Dear Mr. Vick...
I was appalled yesterday when I heard one of the news headlines that stated an NFL player had been indicted for engaging in illegal dogfighting. The article I read a little later in the day went into more detail about the brutality of how these animals were treated. I was horrified!
If the dogs weren't actually killed in the fighting pit, then they were put to death by less than humane methods afterwards for losing, or if they were deemed not fit to fight... either hung/strangled, drowned, electrocuted, or body slammed.
Mr. Vick, if you're found guilty of these charges, then I think a fitting punishment would be "an eye for an eye" so to speak... let the punishment fit the crime.
I think they should let you play in the NFL, and the first time you miss a pass, fumble the ball, or your team loses a game, then you should be doused with water from the cooler, then promptly electrocuted, or how about if they string you up and hang you from the goal-post? All the while the fans in the stands can watch and place bets as to how long before your feet stop kicking, your body stops twitching, and your heart stops beating.
How's that for justice?
If the dogs weren't actually killed in the fighting pit, then they were put to death by less than humane methods afterwards for losing, or if they were deemed not fit to fight... either hung/strangled, drowned, electrocuted, or body slammed.
Mr. Vick, if you're found guilty of these charges, then I think a fitting punishment would be "an eye for an eye" so to speak... let the punishment fit the crime.
I think they should let you play in the NFL, and the first time you miss a pass, fumble the ball, or your team loses a game, then you should be doused with water from the cooler, then promptly electrocuted, or how about if they string you up and hang you from the goal-post? All the while the fans in the stands can watch and place bets as to how long before your feet stop kicking, your body stops twitching, and your heart stops beating.
How's that for justice?
Those were the days...
Once upon a time, in a small eastern Jefferson Co. community, there was a volunteer fire department made up of approximately 45 volunteer firefighters, a part-time chief, a handful of paid firefighters that covered the area during the 8am-5pm hours when most volunteers worked, and 1 paid administrative personnel.
That was many years ago, and dare I say "those were the good ol' days". Back then, everyone was like family. Everybody knew each other's names, and their spouses and children's names. Even if there were little cliques within the department, everybody still basically got along and you could depend on one another when needed. It was a fun place to be around and participate in, when other, more serious matters weren't at hand.
As I said, those were the days.
In just the past seven years, things have changed so drastically, it's enough to make one cry.
Now that same little community has experienced major growth. The chief is now full-time (a different person than before also), there is now 24 hour, paid, career firefighters living at the firehouse, ready to go at a moments notice, there are at least three, if not more, paid, full-time administrative personnel, and very few volunteers left. In fact, compared to when my husband first became involved with said department nearly 20 years ago, I can only think of two other firefighters that were involved with that department at that time also. That's a pretty sad turn-over/retention rate in my opinion.
Two more firefighters resigned this week, along with one that resigned a couple of weeks ago, and another has turned in his papers to resign in October. They are losing firefighters left and right! As one of those men told me the other night, it's gotten to the point that he's ashamed to wear that departments uniform anymore.
Many of those that have left over the past seven years have transferred their helmets (so to speak) to neighboring departments... they didn't leave ours because they were ready to give up firefighting, but simply because of the "politics" and "b.s.". I echo those sentiments. I was involved in one way or another for a number of years, but finally had all I could stand and washed my hands of it.
If firefighters keep leaving the department at the rate they've been leaving, it's going to get to the point that it's being manned by one person, and most of us that have departed know which one person that will be. He's run-off a lot of good, decent personnel, in favor of his flunkies he's hand-picked to be his puppets.
Many of you may have read in the papers or seen on the news lately, the story about the new firehouse that's being built and the effort to raise homeowners taxes. I've not seen one iota of proof that any of this is needed. Those in charge claim they need more room. BAH! They own a large field right next to their existing station 1 that they could use for parking and expansion if necessary. So why not use it instead of just letting the grass grow on it?
They claim we need our own ambulance service in our community. Puh-leeze! There is usually a Lou. Metro Ambulance parked at one firehouse or the other already, when they're between runs, why pay for another ambulance to sit around? And with the new hospital that's being built at Hwy 22 & I-265, it's not like an ambulance will have to trek all across town to get to the nearest hospital.
I long for the day when my husband hangs up his gear for good. If things were like they were in the "old days", I probably wouldn't push for it as much as I do. But I guess we can't have everything.
Okay, 'nuff of my griping.
That was many years ago, and dare I say "those were the good ol' days". Back then, everyone was like family. Everybody knew each other's names, and their spouses and children's names. Even if there were little cliques within the department, everybody still basically got along and you could depend on one another when needed. It was a fun place to be around and participate in, when other, more serious matters weren't at hand.
As I said, those were the days.
In just the past seven years, things have changed so drastically, it's enough to make one cry.
Now that same little community has experienced major growth. The chief is now full-time (a different person than before also), there is now 24 hour, paid, career firefighters living at the firehouse, ready to go at a moments notice, there are at least three, if not more, paid, full-time administrative personnel, and very few volunteers left. In fact, compared to when my husband first became involved with said department nearly 20 years ago, I can only think of two other firefighters that were involved with that department at that time also. That's a pretty sad turn-over/retention rate in my opinion.
Two more firefighters resigned this week, along with one that resigned a couple of weeks ago, and another has turned in his papers to resign in October. They are losing firefighters left and right! As one of those men told me the other night, it's gotten to the point that he's ashamed to wear that departments uniform anymore.
Many of those that have left over the past seven years have transferred their helmets (so to speak) to neighboring departments... they didn't leave ours because they were ready to give up firefighting, but simply because of the "politics" and "b.s.". I echo those sentiments. I was involved in one way or another for a number of years, but finally had all I could stand and washed my hands of it.
If firefighters keep leaving the department at the rate they've been leaving, it's going to get to the point that it's being manned by one person, and most of us that have departed know which one person that will be. He's run-off a lot of good, decent personnel, in favor of his flunkies he's hand-picked to be his puppets.
Many of you may have read in the papers or seen on the news lately, the story about the new firehouse that's being built and the effort to raise homeowners taxes. I've not seen one iota of proof that any of this is needed. Those in charge claim they need more room. BAH! They own a large field right next to their existing station 1 that they could use for parking and expansion if necessary. So why not use it instead of just letting the grass grow on it?
They claim we need our own ambulance service in our community. Puh-leeze! There is usually a Lou. Metro Ambulance parked at one firehouse or the other already, when they're between runs, why pay for another ambulance to sit around? And with the new hospital that's being built at Hwy 22 & I-265, it's not like an ambulance will have to trek all across town to get to the nearest hospital.
I long for the day when my husband hangs up his gear for good. If things were like they were in the "old days", I probably wouldn't push for it as much as I do. But I guess we can't have everything.
Okay, 'nuff of my griping.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Roughing it
This blog might be offensive to some... or you may not want your children to read it. Sorry, I'm just relaying the story as it was told to me.
We all have different and varying opinions on what we define as "roughing it".
For some, staying at the Holiday Inn as opposed to the Hilton would be roughing it.
For others, staying out in the woods, whether in an RV or a cabin is roughing it, as they'd rather be staying close to the city lights and away from the clean air of the country.
And for yet others, it's only considered roughing it when you sleep outside, on the ground, under the stars, without benefit of any roof, floor, or utilities.
It's no secret, I love to go camping. A bad day camping beats a good day at work anytime! My requirements are few... a roof over my head, even if it's a canvas roof (tent), a floor, even if it's a plastic floor (again, tent), several inches of padding to sleep on (remember, I have a bad back) or at least a chaise lounge, toilets that are hooked up to sewers (reads: no pit-toilets!!), and most importantly, clean running water that comes from pipes for the sake of showering. Heck, if the weather is just right, I don't even require electricity!
I bring all this up because of a pending camping trip this fall with the girls... or at least, one of the girls in my neighborhood bunco group. I was hoping more would go, but at least two of them will be in the process of moving into new homes, at least three of them are trying to get pregnant (if they're not already), two others have recently given birth, and some others have already expressed their disdain of this type of pastime... so the potential group is getting smaller and smaller. Regardless...
Even if it's just the two of us, it should be fun. It will be time away from the husbands, pets, work, and everyday life in general.
Here's the problem... we have different and varying opinions on roughing it. You've already read my requirements for bare-minimum civilized camping. "L" (& yes, "L", I know you're probably reading this... laugh with me!) has even lower standards than I. Yes, I dare say she requires a tent (reads: roof & floor) and prefers real toilets, but that's where it ends. She's content to not have running water for showers. Don't get me wrong folks, I'm not implying that "L" doesn't bathe and is slovenly. No, she's lead me to believe that she's content to lie around (while camping) and do absolutely nothing, including bathing. **blech**
"L" has told me about some of her other camping trips with her other gal-pals and the lack of amenities at the campgrounds.
Um, no thanks, I said, I prefer taking a bath every day. I'm not into B.O.
"L" just laughed and said, It wasn't so much the B.O. that was bad by the end of our 3 day trip, it was the coochie smell we all stank of.
Um, okay, that's gross. Again, I prefer taking a bath every day. And if you aren't, then you can sleep in your own tent, and we'll be riding home with the windows rolled down!
So I ask you: What's your definition of "roughing it"?
We all have different and varying opinions on what we define as "roughing it".
For some, staying at the Holiday Inn as opposed to the Hilton would be roughing it.
For others, staying out in the woods, whether in an RV or a cabin is roughing it, as they'd rather be staying close to the city lights and away from the clean air of the country.
And for yet others, it's only considered roughing it when you sleep outside, on the ground, under the stars, without benefit of any roof, floor, or utilities.
It's no secret, I love to go camping. A bad day camping beats a good day at work anytime! My requirements are few... a roof over my head, even if it's a canvas roof (tent), a floor, even if it's a plastic floor (again, tent), several inches of padding to sleep on (remember, I have a bad back) or at least a chaise lounge, toilets that are hooked up to sewers (reads: no pit-toilets!!), and most importantly, clean running water that comes from pipes for the sake of showering. Heck, if the weather is just right, I don't even require electricity!
I bring all this up because of a pending camping trip this fall with the girls... or at least, one of the girls in my neighborhood bunco group. I was hoping more would go, but at least two of them will be in the process of moving into new homes, at least three of them are trying to get pregnant (if they're not already), two others have recently given birth, and some others have already expressed their disdain of this type of pastime... so the potential group is getting smaller and smaller. Regardless...
Even if it's just the two of us, it should be fun. It will be time away from the husbands, pets, work, and everyday life in general.
Here's the problem... we have different and varying opinions on roughing it. You've already read my requirements for bare-minimum civilized camping. "L" (& yes, "L", I know you're probably reading this... laugh with me!) has even lower standards than I. Yes, I dare say she requires a tent (reads: roof & floor) and prefers real toilets, but that's where it ends. She's content to not have running water for showers. Don't get me wrong folks, I'm not implying that "L" doesn't bathe and is slovenly. No, she's lead me to believe that she's content to lie around (while camping) and do absolutely nothing, including bathing. **blech**
"L" has told me about some of her other camping trips with her other gal-pals and the lack of amenities at the campgrounds.
Um, no thanks, I said, I prefer taking a bath every day. I'm not into B.O.
"L" just laughed and said, It wasn't so much the B.O. that was bad by the end of our 3 day trip, it was the coochie smell we all stank of.
Um, okay, that's gross. Again, I prefer taking a bath every day. And if you aren't, then you can sleep in your own tent, and we'll be riding home with the windows rolled down!
So I ask you: What's your definition of "roughing it"?
Lap-horse
Many people poke fun at the size of my dogs, some comparing them to horses in size.
To us, no matter their size, they are still lap-dogs. Both Eliott & Olivia need little coaxing to climb onto our lap.
But today, I experienced something beyond lap-dogs... a lap-horse. Well, maybe I didn't "experience" it in the true sense, but had I not been in my good work clothes, I'd have been more than willing to sit on the ground and hold the tiny babe in my lap.
My friend "Junosmom" had invited me to come visit their newest addition. A miniature horse, Maggie, that they've been stabling, recently gave birth to a tiny little girl, who is the sweetest thing I've ever seen! I couldn't believe it when Junosmom bent down and picked the foal up in her arms, and held her like a baby... and Junosmom is a slip of a woman herself.
I just wanted to put that little girl (the foal that is) in my pocket and take her home!
Click on the link to see a picture of Roxie (the foal) and Maggie.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD227QfDqtrbSbAG7K4LKvDNXnMB5R4rc9_Yf_QnKTZYQV94jOeAyI_aODic9B4-5l0JLYF4vl4AS7g65NWAJuIUGRrOu6sZnCZ66N4tJ1vZIQB1qH94uGeCs6OERx30PsBJG5/s1600-h/100_1064.JPG
To us, no matter their size, they are still lap-dogs. Both Eliott & Olivia need little coaxing to climb onto our lap.
But today, I experienced something beyond lap-dogs... a lap-horse. Well, maybe I didn't "experience" it in the true sense, but had I not been in my good work clothes, I'd have been more than willing to sit on the ground and hold the tiny babe in my lap.
My friend "Junosmom" had invited me to come visit their newest addition. A miniature horse, Maggie, that they've been stabling, recently gave birth to a tiny little girl, who is the sweetest thing I've ever seen! I couldn't believe it when Junosmom bent down and picked the foal up in her arms, and held her like a baby... and Junosmom is a slip of a woman herself.
I just wanted to put that little girl (the foal that is) in my pocket and take her home!
Click on the link to see a picture of Roxie (the foal) and Maggie.
https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD227QfDqtrbSbAG7K4LKvDNXnMB5R4rc9_Yf_QnKTZYQV94jOeAyI_aODic9B4-5l0JLYF4vl4AS7g65NWAJuIUGRrOu6sZnCZ66N4tJ1vZIQB1qH94uGeCs6OERx30PsBJG5/s1600-h/100_1064.JPG
Mindy
My desk at work is "L" shaped, and has a wall around it, of sorts, that acts as a bulletin board. Of course I don't keep bulletins on it, but rather oodles of photos of, what else?, my 4-legged children... mostly.
I say mostly, because there are three or four photos that aren't of the dogs at all, and of the remaining photos, there is yet another handful that are of danes that don't even belong to me.
It's beginning to get to the point that this wall is becoming a shrine to danes long since departed. The latest addition... not a new picture, but now a newly departed dane-friend... is Mindy.
Mindy the one-eyed dane. A sweet dog. She passed much too soon.
I say mostly, because there are three or four photos that aren't of the dogs at all, and of the remaining photos, there is yet another handful that are of danes that don't even belong to me.
It's beginning to get to the point that this wall is becoming a shrine to danes long since departed. The latest addition... not a new picture, but now a newly departed dane-friend... is Mindy.
Mindy the one-eyed dane. A sweet dog. She passed much too soon.
Mindy was only 5 years old, if that. I know she was born after my Kelsey, who woul'dve been 6 later this year, and before Eliott, who'll be 4 later on. Mindy lost her right eye while playing with one of the other pups, but she never let it slow her down. She'd gallop, full speed ahead across the hilly land that was her yard. She'd fetch the frisbee, and wrestle with the other dogs, seemingly unaware of her handi-cap.
The photo I have of Mindy shows her and Eliott lying in the yard, both panting after playing hard. Eliott was 6 months old, and we'd just lost Kelsey, so he was only too happy to have another dane to rough-house with.
The photo I have of Mindy shows her and Eliott lying in the yard, both panting after playing hard. Eliott was 6 months old, and we'd just lost Kelsey, so he was only too happy to have another dane to rough-house with.
Mindy went to live with Lynn & Dave who also happened to have Mindy's full-brother from a previous litter, Justin. There was no mistaking that these two dogs were siblings. They were built identically, and had their bitch-momma's head and hips.
This past week, Mindy suddenly became ill and her vet's attempt to help her failed. Her owners then took her to Lou. Vet. Specialties & Emergency Services... not a place I'd recommend, but I have my own reasons... they too could not help Mindy, and it was decided to end her suffering. Mindy left this world much too soon.
My heart breaks for what her owners had to endure, watching their beloved girl get sicker and sicker and for the decision they had to make. I know their pain only too well.
So now Mindy is running the grassy fields of eternity with Smokey, Kelsey, Nip, Juno, Anna, Solo, Merlin, Alex, Maxie, and all the other danes I've loved as my own or as friends &./or family members of my own kids.
This past week, Mindy suddenly became ill and her vet's attempt to help her failed. Her owners then took her to Lou. Vet. Specialties & Emergency Services... not a place I'd recommend, but I have my own reasons... they too could not help Mindy, and it was decided to end her suffering. Mindy left this world much too soon.
My heart breaks for what her owners had to endure, watching their beloved girl get sicker and sicker and for the decision they had to make. I know their pain only too well.
So now Mindy is running the grassy fields of eternity with Smokey, Kelsey, Nip, Juno, Anna, Solo, Merlin, Alex, Maxie, and all the other danes I've loved as my own or as friends &./or family members of my own kids.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
You be the judge
What do you think... are these two pictures of the same dog? Or two different dogs?
If you guessed the same, you'd be wrong.
They are two, very different doggies... "twin" sisters to be sure, or maybe I should say, littermates. The first one is of Bella, or "Bella-Boo" as I like to call her. The other picture is of my Bootsy, or "Boo-Boo" as we often call her.
When you look at them, there is no mistaking the fact that they are sisters, they very much look like one another, and not just because they're both black with some white markings. There are other similarities also. And yet, they're also as different as night and day.
I guess in some ways, they're just like human siblings.
Update
John had his knee surgery Friday morning. He starts physical therapy on Wednesday and goes to have the stitches removed this coming Friday. I full well intend to be at that follow-up appointment, as I know what the doctor is supposed to tell John. And since I don't trust John to go alone, listen to the doctor's advice, relay the advice to me (honestly), and then, most importantly, follow it, I therefore have to be there to bear witness. Honestly though, I can't wait!! I'll fill you in with more details on that next week.
The doctor talked to me after the surgery, showing me the gruesome pictures (not that I really knew what I was looking at) and telling me that John has arthritis, and describing how he removed the torn part of the meniscus and worked on the tendon. Makes me queasy just thinking about it!
It's now Tuesday, and he's up, walking around without the aid of a crutch. There is still some swelling, hopefully that will go down over the next few days.
I'm hoping these next few weeks go by quickly, as it truly sucks trying to survive on disability income!
The doctor talked to me after the surgery, showing me the gruesome pictures (not that I really knew what I was looking at) and telling me that John has arthritis, and describing how he removed the torn part of the meniscus and worked on the tendon. Makes me queasy just thinking about it!
It's now Tuesday, and he's up, walking around without the aid of a crutch. There is still some swelling, hopefully that will go down over the next few days.
I'm hoping these next few weeks go by quickly, as it truly sucks trying to survive on disability income!
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Not-ary
No longer a notary.
I held my nortary for 4 years, courtesy of my employer. But I let it expire back in May. I certainly wasn't getting anything out of it. Besides, I really never liked that part of my job... witnessing signatures that is.
Now I'm finding out that I'm not the only one that's not renewing.
It was never explained to me when I became a notary, what all was involved with the job-title... what I could/could-not do, what I should/should-not do, etc. etc.
It was always my understanding that I was just witnessing that the signature did indeed belong to that person signing the paper/document.
I guess I wasn't the only one with that understanding. I'm finding out that a lot of people are letting their notaries expire also without renewing, or at the very least, they're being very selective about who they'll notarize things for.
Apparently the signature isn't the only thing you're attesting to. You're also attesting to the fact that the person signing is of sound mind and is in fact capable of make decisions for themselves.
Give me a break!! What are we supposed to be now, psychiatrists? I don't think so!! Like I said, I wasn't making any money off the arrangement.
Sign me,
Not a notary ever again!!
I held my nortary for 4 years, courtesy of my employer. But I let it expire back in May. I certainly wasn't getting anything out of it. Besides, I really never liked that part of my job... witnessing signatures that is.
Now I'm finding out that I'm not the only one that's not renewing.
It was never explained to me when I became a notary, what all was involved with the job-title... what I could/could-not do, what I should/should-not do, etc. etc.
It was always my understanding that I was just witnessing that the signature did indeed belong to that person signing the paper/document.
I guess I wasn't the only one with that understanding. I'm finding out that a lot of people are letting their notaries expire also without renewing, or at the very least, they're being very selective about who they'll notarize things for.
Apparently the signature isn't the only thing you're attesting to. You're also attesting to the fact that the person signing is of sound mind and is in fact capable of make decisions for themselves.
Give me a break!! What are we supposed to be now, psychiatrists? I don't think so!! Like I said, I wasn't making any money off the arrangement.
Sign me,
Not a notary ever again!!
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Wasted days...
The husband had an appt. with the ortho-surgeon yesterday, to get the results from the MRI. Diagnosis: he has a torn meniscus.
Well duh!! Didn't the doctor at the Immediate Care Ctr. already tell us that three weeks ago???
He now has to have surgery this friday morning, with a follow-up visit on the 20th, and with physical therapy over the next few weeks. Right now the expected recovery time is 3-4 weeks.
This really does annoy me to no end. I feel like they (the doctors) have already wasted three weeks of our time. Couldn't they have done something sooner? Shoot, if they'd done the surgery that first week, then John would only be a week away from going back to work (in theory). Living on short term disability income sucks!
Well duh!! Didn't the doctor at the Immediate Care Ctr. already tell us that three weeks ago???
He now has to have surgery this friday morning, with a follow-up visit on the 20th, and with physical therapy over the next few weeks. Right now the expected recovery time is 3-4 weeks.
This really does annoy me to no end. I feel like they (the doctors) have already wasted three weeks of our time. Couldn't they have done something sooner? Shoot, if they'd done the surgery that first week, then John would only be a week away from going back to work (in theory). Living on short term disability income sucks!
Telling The Truth
Okay, for those of you that played along over the past couple of weeks, it's time for me to reveal the lie from my list.
#1) I once waited on football hall-of-famer and Ace Hardware spokesman, John Madden.
This is true. I was working a part-time job at the BP station by our house, and he came in one evening and handed my his credit card to pay for his gas. I was in such disbelief though, I didn't think to ask him for his autograph.
#2) I once went on a date with a black man.
This is true. He was nice, and good looking too, but we only went out once. I didn't like the way people kept staring... inter-racial couples weren't quite as common-place back in the mid 80's as they are today... so I never went out with him again.
#3) I fell out of a moving Jeep and was dragged down the street.
This is true. I was getting out of a boyfriend's Jeep when he started to take off. He didn't realize I'd gotten a strap on my boot caught on the door-frame and when he took off, it knocked me to the ground and drug me a short ways.
#4) I once tried marijuana.
This is FALSE! I take great pride in never having smoked dope, or popped pills, snorted or shot-up anything illegal. I'm clean!!
#5) I've been known to eat ketchup by the spoonful.
This is true. When I was a youngster, I went through a phase where I'd eat spoonfuls of ketchup for a snack.
#6) I've been involved in a high-speed car chase.
This is true. It's a long story, and no, there were no police cars involved!! At times we did the chasing, at other times, we were the chased.
#7) I have a knack for remembering useless facts.
This is very true. Those that know me well can vouch for me.
#8) On more than one occasion, I've been confronted with someone holding a gun and threatening to blow their brains out.
This is true. Once was an old boyfriend, after an argument we'd had. The other time was a relative, but I won't mention who.
#9) I used to eat peanut butter by smearing it on my knee and then licking it off.
This is true. It was another one of those phases I went through as a child.
#1) I once waited on football hall-of-famer and Ace Hardware spokesman, John Madden.
This is true. I was working a part-time job at the BP station by our house, and he came in one evening and handed my his credit card to pay for his gas. I was in such disbelief though, I didn't think to ask him for his autograph.
#2) I once went on a date with a black man.
This is true. He was nice, and good looking too, but we only went out once. I didn't like the way people kept staring... inter-racial couples weren't quite as common-place back in the mid 80's as they are today... so I never went out with him again.
#3) I fell out of a moving Jeep and was dragged down the street.
This is true. I was getting out of a boyfriend's Jeep when he started to take off. He didn't realize I'd gotten a strap on my boot caught on the door-frame and when he took off, it knocked me to the ground and drug me a short ways.
#4) I once tried marijuana.
This is FALSE! I take great pride in never having smoked dope, or popped pills, snorted or shot-up anything illegal. I'm clean!!
#5) I've been known to eat ketchup by the spoonful.
This is true. When I was a youngster, I went through a phase where I'd eat spoonfuls of ketchup for a snack.
#6) I've been involved in a high-speed car chase.
This is true. It's a long story, and no, there were no police cars involved!! At times we did the chasing, at other times, we were the chased.
#7) I have a knack for remembering useless facts.
This is very true. Those that know me well can vouch for me.
#8) On more than one occasion, I've been confronted with someone holding a gun and threatening to blow their brains out.
This is true. Once was an old boyfriend, after an argument we'd had. The other time was a relative, but I won't mention who.
#9) I used to eat peanut butter by smearing it on my knee and then licking it off.
This is true. It was another one of those phases I went through as a child.
So now you know some of the off-the-wall things I've experienced in my life.
I challenge all of you to play the game on your blogsite as well!
Monday, July 09, 2007
Is it just me, or do these two guys look an awful lot alike?
Well, I know it's not just me. I've shown the old photos to several people and asked the simple question: Does this person remind you of anyone famous? Without fail (except for my husband!), each person has stated that my relative looks like Patrick Dempsey or Dr. McDreamy or the guy from Grey's Anatomy, or whatever.
The two black/white photos are of my great-great-uncle, Charlie Pease.
Friday, July 06, 2007
Honey-Do List & the 4th of July
Have I ever mentioned how much I despise fireworks?
I had an excellent opportunity to sleep in late on Wednesday morning, but I ruined it by setting the alarm clock for 8:30 so I could get up and get started painting. Okay okay, I was actually up much earlier, taking care of the 4-legged children, but once their needs were met, I went back to bed. Once the alarm went off, I jumped from bed, put on some old clothes, made sure the husband got his arse up and moving, then promptly wrote out a honey-do list for him.
Four little items I had on his list. I felt they were none too strenuous and he should be able to get them done in no time at all. My intentions were to be in the swimming pool by 12:30. Hmph!
On his list:
#1) Get the left-over bag of filter sand off of the deck... (this bag has been sitting there for over a month).
#2) Get the pool vacuum hose and wand (the ones used to open the pool in the spring) and put them away... (they've been lying out there for a month also)
#3) Weed-eat the back yard... the grass around the pool was over a foot tall, and as it's difficult to get a mower back there, it would be just as easy and go quickly if he'd just knock it down with the weed-wacker).
#4) Clean the screens... (as I was painting the window-sills, I had taken the screens down and thought they could use a good cleaning).
While I started painting, he managed to get the pool vac put away. Check off one item from his list.
John then got side-tracked and started trimming some branches on my lilac bush that's by the front porch. He cut several branches... I wasn't too happy. He then proceeds to start trimming the branches on my mock-orange shrubs. These shrubs were over 15' tall and about 6' wide. When John was done, they were about 8' tall and 4' wide (if that). Now I'm really unhappy!!
I started on the last window sill, the one for our bedroom window, and the husband proceeds to look at the bag of sand and then not do anything with it, instead pulled a few weeds from around the deck. I finished painting (a 2nd coat will get applied this weekend), washed out my brushes, and then prepared to paint the pipes on the gas meter. But first I needed to trim back some floral fauna that was growing around the meter. Now the husband offers to take the weed-eater to the stuff and chop it all back. Along the way, he trims the rest of the flowerbed. Once my area was cleared I started painting, and he makes his way to the backyard and piddles around.
My job was done about 12:10. I went inside, cleaned up, and donned my swimsuit and headed for the pool. As I was getting in at 12:30, the husband was just now starting to trim the grass next to the pool, thus sending grass clippings flying into the pool and all over me.... he couldn't have done this chore first??? Now he looks at me and says in this pitiful little boy voice, "I guess all your chores are done." And I replied, "And yours could be done also if you hadn't fiddle-farted around trimming the shrubs."
So he finally finishes weed-eating and joins me in the pool. As I'm writing this, it's now been 48 hours and the other two items on his list are still not done. The sand is still on the deck, and the screens are still in the garage, covered in grime.
As the day wore on, I fed some Benadryl to Eliott, hoping it would dope him up enough that he wouldn't be so bothered by the fireworks. They didn't phase him! No joking aside, in all honesty, I thought the dog was going to die that night from a heart attack. He was panting so hard, shaking so violently, drooling uncontrollably, and his heart was racing... I thought for sure he'd have a heart attack.
The fireworks were so bad in our neighborhood, probably the loudest I've ever heard in all my years there, that even I could not go to sleep, and they were so bad and shook the house so much, that even Olivia was woken up by them. She finally got so stressed by what was going on that she vomited up her dinner.
Have I mentioned how much I hate fireworks???
I had an excellent opportunity to sleep in late on Wednesday morning, but I ruined it by setting the alarm clock for 8:30 so I could get up and get started painting. Okay okay, I was actually up much earlier, taking care of the 4-legged children, but once their needs were met, I went back to bed. Once the alarm went off, I jumped from bed, put on some old clothes, made sure the husband got his arse up and moving, then promptly wrote out a honey-do list for him.
Four little items I had on his list. I felt they were none too strenuous and he should be able to get them done in no time at all. My intentions were to be in the swimming pool by 12:30. Hmph!
On his list:
#1) Get the left-over bag of filter sand off of the deck... (this bag has been sitting there for over a month).
#2) Get the pool vacuum hose and wand (the ones used to open the pool in the spring) and put them away... (they've been lying out there for a month also)
#3) Weed-eat the back yard... the grass around the pool was over a foot tall, and as it's difficult to get a mower back there, it would be just as easy and go quickly if he'd just knock it down with the weed-wacker).
#4) Clean the screens... (as I was painting the window-sills, I had taken the screens down and thought they could use a good cleaning).
While I started painting, he managed to get the pool vac put away. Check off one item from his list.
John then got side-tracked and started trimming some branches on my lilac bush that's by the front porch. He cut several branches... I wasn't too happy. He then proceeds to start trimming the branches on my mock-orange shrubs. These shrubs were over 15' tall and about 6' wide. When John was done, they were about 8' tall and 4' wide (if that). Now I'm really unhappy!!
I started on the last window sill, the one for our bedroom window, and the husband proceeds to look at the bag of sand and then not do anything with it, instead pulled a few weeds from around the deck. I finished painting (a 2nd coat will get applied this weekend), washed out my brushes, and then prepared to paint the pipes on the gas meter. But first I needed to trim back some floral fauna that was growing around the meter. Now the husband offers to take the weed-eater to the stuff and chop it all back. Along the way, he trims the rest of the flowerbed. Once my area was cleared I started painting, and he makes his way to the backyard and piddles around.
My job was done about 12:10. I went inside, cleaned up, and donned my swimsuit and headed for the pool. As I was getting in at 12:30, the husband was just now starting to trim the grass next to the pool, thus sending grass clippings flying into the pool and all over me.... he couldn't have done this chore first??? Now he looks at me and says in this pitiful little boy voice, "I guess all your chores are done." And I replied, "And yours could be done also if you hadn't fiddle-farted around trimming the shrubs."
So he finally finishes weed-eating and joins me in the pool. As I'm writing this, it's now been 48 hours and the other two items on his list are still not done. The sand is still on the deck, and the screens are still in the garage, covered in grime.
As the day wore on, I fed some Benadryl to Eliott, hoping it would dope him up enough that he wouldn't be so bothered by the fireworks. They didn't phase him! No joking aside, in all honesty, I thought the dog was going to die that night from a heart attack. He was panting so hard, shaking so violently, drooling uncontrollably, and his heart was racing... I thought for sure he'd have a heart attack.
The fireworks were so bad in our neighborhood, probably the loudest I've ever heard in all my years there, that even I could not go to sleep, and they were so bad and shook the house so much, that even Olivia was woken up by them. She finally got so stressed by what was going on that she vomited up her dinner.
Have I mentioned how much I hate fireworks???
Smile!
Ever notice how people never seemed to smile when having their photographs taken, way back in the old, old, olden days? The little fella on the left, was my great-grandfather, William Pease. I'm not sure exactly when the photo was taken, but I'm guessing him to be around 10 years old, so that would date the picture around the late 1890's.
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Discovery
Okay, I recently made a discovery that has turned out to be a fabulous thing (at least as far as I'm concerned), so I thought I'd pass along my "tip" to anybody else that is a swimming pool owner or has the unfortunate job of maintaining a swimming pool somewhere.
Even though our filter is fairly new, I suppose due to the recent parts we had to replace, it just doesn't seem to be doing as good of a job as in the past, about trapping small debris. The small screen-filter that fits into the vacuum hose where it attaches to the return-line is constantly filling up with minuscule bits of debris, and this of course means the water doesn't flow as freely, which means the vacuum doesn't flow as freely to pick up debris from the bottom of the pool and also means the pump has to work harder to try and force the water through.
We were having to take the little filter from the hose and clean it out no less than twice a day, and in all honesty, we could've probably done it half dozen times, but who has time for all that???
It's a vicious cycle!
I know that the pool-supply places sell these "socks" for lack of a better term, that fit over the skimmer basket, and help catch debris before it ever gets to the main filter. But they usually cost several dollars just for a package of two or three "socks". We had used these once before, a few years ago when we opened the pool one spring and the water was quite a bit dirtier than usual, and filled with critters.
Getting fed up with all the debris that was getting through, I came up with a solution: Knee-high stockings. Granted, they aren't custom designed to fit the skimmer basket, but they still work very well. Even if it's an old stocking with a runner in it, it still catches a lot of the small crap that normally went straight through to the filter. Our pool vacuum has never run so efficiently. I checked the little filter that attaches to the hose 24 hours after putting a nylon on the skimmer, and it hardly had a thing in it. I'm sure what little was there was left-over stuff that was already in the large filter.
Yes indeedy... I'm going to invest in a box of the Wal-mart cheepies... you know the kind... a box of 10 or 20 knee-highs that are so wadded up and cheap, they get runners in them just by looking at them cross-eyed. They only cost a couple of bucks for a box, and it's a lot cheaper than the customized socks from the pool place. Just replace the nylon on the skimmer every few days, depending on how much dirt/debris is in it. Also, you won't have to back-wash the filter as often, so this will save you water as well.
Even though our filter is fairly new, I suppose due to the recent parts we had to replace, it just doesn't seem to be doing as good of a job as in the past, about trapping small debris. The small screen-filter that fits into the vacuum hose where it attaches to the return-line is constantly filling up with minuscule bits of debris, and this of course means the water doesn't flow as freely, which means the vacuum doesn't flow as freely to pick up debris from the bottom of the pool and also means the pump has to work harder to try and force the water through.
We were having to take the little filter from the hose and clean it out no less than twice a day, and in all honesty, we could've probably done it half dozen times, but who has time for all that???
It's a vicious cycle!
I know that the pool-supply places sell these "socks" for lack of a better term, that fit over the skimmer basket, and help catch debris before it ever gets to the main filter. But they usually cost several dollars just for a package of two or three "socks". We had used these once before, a few years ago when we opened the pool one spring and the water was quite a bit dirtier than usual, and filled with critters.
Getting fed up with all the debris that was getting through, I came up with a solution: Knee-high stockings. Granted, they aren't custom designed to fit the skimmer basket, but they still work very well. Even if it's an old stocking with a runner in it, it still catches a lot of the small crap that normally went straight through to the filter. Our pool vacuum has never run so efficiently. I checked the little filter that attaches to the hose 24 hours after putting a nylon on the skimmer, and it hardly had a thing in it. I'm sure what little was there was left-over stuff that was already in the large filter.
Yes indeedy... I'm going to invest in a box of the Wal-mart cheepies... you know the kind... a box of 10 or 20 knee-highs that are so wadded up and cheap, they get runners in them just by looking at them cross-eyed. They only cost a couple of bucks for a box, and it's a lot cheaper than the customized socks from the pool place. Just replace the nylon on the skimmer every few days, depending on how much dirt/debris is in it. Also, you won't have to back-wash the filter as often, so this will save you water as well.
4th of July plans
It's no secret, I'm not a particular fan of the 4th. It's not that I don't like a good cook-out (emphasis on good... good food, good fun, good company), but the fireworks are something I can do without.
But that's not what I'm here to blog about today. I'm blogging about MY plans for the 4th.
A couple of months ago, we got a letter from L.G.&E., informing us we needed to take care of the rust on the pipes leading from our gas meter into the house, as it was OUR responsibility, not theirs if the pipes corroded and started to leak. Their advice: paint the pipes.
How naive of me to expect the husband would've done something about this before now. Oh sure, he took a wire brush out, right after we got that letter, and knocked a little of the rust off. But did I seriously think he'd get the paint & brush and actually paint it? Puh-leeze!!!
In the 19+ years we've co-habitated with one another, I've yet to ever see him lift a finger to help paint anything around the house. The one and only time I've ever seen him open a paint can and pick up a paint brush was to paint all the fire hydrants in the neighborhood a school-bus-yellow. But of course I'm sure that was more like "play" than work, since it didn't matter if he dripped a little on the grass, and that was something that some of the neighbors might thank him for doing or compliment him for doing.
No, he'll never do anything like that around our house, because kudos from the wife just doesn't cut the mustard. Hmph!!
So yes, every time a room has needed to be painted, I've done it. Every time the garage door & shutters have gotten painted, I've done it. This is our 14th summer in this house, and the window frames and such have never been painted, and they're looking pretty shabby. So while at the store last night, I grabbed a can of white paint, and a small can of black paint for those pipes, and some paint brushes.
Now I guess you know what my plans are for the 4th.
Let the festivities begin!
But that's not what I'm here to blog about today. I'm blogging about MY plans for the 4th.
A couple of months ago, we got a letter from L.G.&E., informing us we needed to take care of the rust on the pipes leading from our gas meter into the house, as it was OUR responsibility, not theirs if the pipes corroded and started to leak. Their advice: paint the pipes.
How naive of me to expect the husband would've done something about this before now. Oh sure, he took a wire brush out, right after we got that letter, and knocked a little of the rust off. But did I seriously think he'd get the paint & brush and actually paint it? Puh-leeze!!!
In the 19+ years we've co-habitated with one another, I've yet to ever see him lift a finger to help paint anything around the house. The one and only time I've ever seen him open a paint can and pick up a paint brush was to paint all the fire hydrants in the neighborhood a school-bus-yellow. But of course I'm sure that was more like "play" than work, since it didn't matter if he dripped a little on the grass, and that was something that some of the neighbors might thank him for doing or compliment him for doing.
No, he'll never do anything like that around our house, because kudos from the wife just doesn't cut the mustard. Hmph!!
So yes, every time a room has needed to be painted, I've done it. Every time the garage door & shutters have gotten painted, I've done it. This is our 14th summer in this house, and the window frames and such have never been painted, and they're looking pretty shabby. So while at the store last night, I grabbed a can of white paint, and a small can of black paint for those pipes, and some paint brushes.
Now I guess you know what my plans are for the 4th.
Let the festivities begin!
Monday, July 02, 2007
Rude Awakening!!
Somehow, I've become the unofficial care-giver to our breeders "children" every time she now goes out of town. I don't mind, as I enjoy being around big dogs (obviously), Great Danes in particular.
"G" (our breeder) was going out of town to be a judge at a show, so it would be a short trip for her this time around. As we had an especially busy weekend on our schedule, in order to save myself getting up at an insane hour and making the 64+ mile round trip Sunday morning, I took my sleeping bag and crashed in her spare bedroom (with her permission of course).
Normally, "G" brings all 8 of her big kids into the house with her at night to sleep, I had absolutely no intention of doing so, even though I was only caring for 6 of them. Let's face it, just like human children, if a dog (or dogs) think they can get by with putting one over on the "babysitter", they're going to attempt it. "G" had told me it was my decision as to whether to leave them all in the kennel, or to bring a few or all in the house. I gave it careful consideration while I spent my first hour cleaning their kennels, feeding them and letting them play outside.
"G" leaves instructions as to which dogs are to be let out either in pairs or groups of three to play. So I decided if I was going to let any of them in the house, it would also be in one of the designated pairs. Why upset the applecart by mixing the pairs up in the house?
Decisions, decisions... would it be Cory (daddy to my Bootsy & Olivia) and his granddaughter (9 mo. old) Sadie?, or would it be the current show dog Grant (Cory's grandson, and a total sh*thead of a dog!!) and Bella (my Bootsy's litter mate)?, or would it be Diva (Eliott & Olivia's mommy) and her daughter Sara?
Cory's a good dog, and I wouldn't expect trouble from him, but since Sadie is still a pup and quite rambunctious, I was afraid she'd be bouncing off the walls once inside, so I decided against them.
Grant had already ticked me off by injuring Bella right after I got there, so I knew I didn't want him in the house.
I settled on the mother/daughter pair of Diva and Sara. They settled in on the doggy-furniture in the dog-room, and after I got so sleepy I couldn't stay awake, I closed the gate to keep them in their room, while I settled down to sleep in the spare room at the other end of the house, far away from the kennel.
I had no sooner started to drift off when the barking started. I jumped from bed, ran to the other end of the house and peered outside, looking for signs of an intruder. Nothing. The dogs quieted down and I went back to bed. I was just starting to settle down when again the barking started. I really didn't want to keep running laps through the house, but now their barking was followed by howling. It sounded like a pack of wild wolves baying at the moon. I again went to see what the problem was. Again, I saw nothing.
Ah, but then I heard it... fireworks being set off by somebody in the county. The dogs were unhappy, which made me unhappy. Stupid fireworks!!
I'm sure that Diva & Sara thought I was off my rocker, constantly running into the room every time someone barked... after all, I somehow doubt "G" does that. I couldn't help but wonder how she ever got any sleep.
The fireworks continued to be set off, the dogs continued to bark and howl. Fortunately, when the a/c kicked on, it was loud enough to drown them out and I could finally go to sleep. However, it wasn't a good quality of sleep, for every time the a/c kicked off and the barking started, I'd wake up again, until the a/c would kick back on again to drown them out.
Finally, about 1:30 in the a.m., I was sound asleep when I was suddenly awoke by a different noise. I sat straight up in bed, my heart beating. There was a noise in the hallway, right outside the bedroom door. As there shouldn't be anyone or anything out there to make a noise, I was in a panic. Did I have an intruder?? I scrambled for my shoes and cell phone, ready to dial 911. Just as I went to take a step from the bed, I suddenly saw a face peering around the corner of the doorway at me, and I nearly came out of my skin!!
It was Sara. Oh crap!! Now I feared that she and Diva had torn down the gate and had both been having a field day in the main part of the house while I slept. I wondered if I'd find shredded papers and cushions in the living room. I wondered if they'd been in "G's" bedroom, rolling around on her bed. How would I ever explain whatever mess awaited me???
Filled with dread, I flipped on the hall light and looked around. Everything seemed to be in tact... except... where was Diva??
I tiptoed through the house, Sara tiptoeing (or so it seemed) behind me. I got to the doggy-room and there stood Diva, on the other side of the gate, which was still in place. I suppose Sara must've jumped over it, leaving her mother behind.
I couldn't take the stress anymore. I escorted the girls back out to the kennel and went back to bed and managed a couple of more hours of restless sleep.
"G" (our breeder) was going out of town to be a judge at a show, so it would be a short trip for her this time around. As we had an especially busy weekend on our schedule, in order to save myself getting up at an insane hour and making the 64+ mile round trip Sunday morning, I took my sleeping bag and crashed in her spare bedroom (with her permission of course).
Normally, "G" brings all 8 of her big kids into the house with her at night to sleep, I had absolutely no intention of doing so, even though I was only caring for 6 of them. Let's face it, just like human children, if a dog (or dogs) think they can get by with putting one over on the "babysitter", they're going to attempt it. "G" had told me it was my decision as to whether to leave them all in the kennel, or to bring a few or all in the house. I gave it careful consideration while I spent my first hour cleaning their kennels, feeding them and letting them play outside.
"G" leaves instructions as to which dogs are to be let out either in pairs or groups of three to play. So I decided if I was going to let any of them in the house, it would also be in one of the designated pairs. Why upset the applecart by mixing the pairs up in the house?
Decisions, decisions... would it be Cory (daddy to my Bootsy & Olivia) and his granddaughter (9 mo. old) Sadie?, or would it be the current show dog Grant (Cory's grandson, and a total sh*thead of a dog!!) and Bella (my Bootsy's litter mate)?, or would it be Diva (Eliott & Olivia's mommy) and her daughter Sara?
Cory's a good dog, and I wouldn't expect trouble from him, but since Sadie is still a pup and quite rambunctious, I was afraid she'd be bouncing off the walls once inside, so I decided against them.
Grant had already ticked me off by injuring Bella right after I got there, so I knew I didn't want him in the house.
I settled on the mother/daughter pair of Diva and Sara. They settled in on the doggy-furniture in the dog-room, and after I got so sleepy I couldn't stay awake, I closed the gate to keep them in their room, while I settled down to sleep in the spare room at the other end of the house, far away from the kennel.
I had no sooner started to drift off when the barking started. I jumped from bed, ran to the other end of the house and peered outside, looking for signs of an intruder. Nothing. The dogs quieted down and I went back to bed. I was just starting to settle down when again the barking started. I really didn't want to keep running laps through the house, but now their barking was followed by howling. It sounded like a pack of wild wolves baying at the moon. I again went to see what the problem was. Again, I saw nothing.
Ah, but then I heard it... fireworks being set off by somebody in the county. The dogs were unhappy, which made me unhappy. Stupid fireworks!!
I'm sure that Diva & Sara thought I was off my rocker, constantly running into the room every time someone barked... after all, I somehow doubt "G" does that. I couldn't help but wonder how she ever got any sleep.
The fireworks continued to be set off, the dogs continued to bark and howl. Fortunately, when the a/c kicked on, it was loud enough to drown them out and I could finally go to sleep. However, it wasn't a good quality of sleep, for every time the a/c kicked off and the barking started, I'd wake up again, until the a/c would kick back on again to drown them out.
Finally, about 1:30 in the a.m., I was sound asleep when I was suddenly awoke by a different noise. I sat straight up in bed, my heart beating. There was a noise in the hallway, right outside the bedroom door. As there shouldn't be anyone or anything out there to make a noise, I was in a panic. Did I have an intruder?? I scrambled for my shoes and cell phone, ready to dial 911. Just as I went to take a step from the bed, I suddenly saw a face peering around the corner of the doorway at me, and I nearly came out of my skin!!
It was Sara. Oh crap!! Now I feared that she and Diva had torn down the gate and had both been having a field day in the main part of the house while I slept. I wondered if I'd find shredded papers and cushions in the living room. I wondered if they'd been in "G's" bedroom, rolling around on her bed. How would I ever explain whatever mess awaited me???
Filled with dread, I flipped on the hall light and looked around. Everything seemed to be in tact... except... where was Diva??
I tiptoed through the house, Sara tiptoeing (or so it seemed) behind me. I got to the doggy-room and there stood Diva, on the other side of the gate, which was still in place. I suppose Sara must've jumped over it, leaving her mother behind.
I couldn't take the stress anymore. I escorted the girls back out to the kennel and went back to bed and managed a couple of more hours of restless sleep.
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