It's one of those sllllllooooowwww daaaayzzzz at the office. I'm not complaining mind you, it's nice to have them once in a while, especially if you've had a stretch of some really busy days, if you're not feeling well (and my sinus' are acting up somewhat today), or if you'd had a really bad audit (as we did yesterday).
While at the store last night, I was rooting around through the $5-bin, as from time to time you can find a good movie. Occasionally I'll get one that is a total stinker, but for the most part, what I've picked up has been good.
I picked up 3 last night: Young Guns, Rules of Engagement, and American Psycho.
The husband and I've seen Young Guns several times, we love it. The dvd I got had a special-feature section where you could watch the movie as it was narrated by three of the stars, Lou Diamond Phillips, Dermot Mulrooney, and Casey what's-his-name.
I watched this version this morning, and it was enlightening. I've stated before how the husband and I watch movies over and over, looking for flubs. Well, this is one movie, that as often as we've seen it, we've never really noticed anything amiss. But the narrators pointed a few flubs out. They explained the reason for someone having mud or blood on their face was usually to hide pimples, as they were all young men when this was filmed, and they pointed out some of the extras that were used, but not given credit for having been in the movie. Country singer Randy Travis and mega-star Tom Cruise among them. Who'd have thunk it? It almost makes me want to go back and watch other movies now, except focus on the background characters instead, to see who I can identify.
Rules of Engagement I've only seen once, when it came out at the theaters. I do remember it being a good movie though, and look forward to watching it again.
The other movie, American Psycho, I hadn't seen before. I'm 37 minutes into it, and geesh, what a headache I've got. This movie is enough to make you psycho for watching it. What a bomb! I have a feeling it's going to take me quite a while to finish watching it, as I have to keep pausing it in order to stay awake. Maybe it will get better, but I'm not holding out hope.
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Happy Halloween!!
Happy Halloween everyone! I love Halloween. I think it's probably my favorite holiday. It's a shame it's not one of those holidays that gets (some of) us a day off work, like Columbus Day, Veterans Day, M.L.K.'s birthday and so on. It's the one holiday of the year where adults can play and act the fool, same as children, and nobody gives it a second thought.
For the past few years, John & I have been lighting the outdoor fireplace on Halloween night, and several of the neighbors come over, bringing their bowls of candy. It's kind of a one-stop-shopping for the trick-or-treaters. Even though it rained last year on this day, we still lit the fire and huddled under the canopy, must keep the tradition going! However, tonight's weather is supposed to be fabulous, so hopefully we'll have a decent turn-out... of adults that is. We get fewer and fewer children each year.
There was a show on the History Channel at 3am this morning (yes, I was up at that time) telling of the history of Halloween. This celebration dates back some 3000 years, having started in Ireland. It was a fascinating show. I wish I could've stayed awake to watch the whole thing, but sleep beckoned. I did learn that part of their tradition was to light a bonfire and make offerings to the gods, by throwing live animals on the fire. Okay, that's a bit cruel, but we'll throw some hotdogs and brats on our fire... must keep the tradition going.
For the past few years, John & I have been lighting the outdoor fireplace on Halloween night, and several of the neighbors come over, bringing their bowls of candy. It's kind of a one-stop-shopping for the trick-or-treaters. Even though it rained last year on this day, we still lit the fire and huddled under the canopy, must keep the tradition going! However, tonight's weather is supposed to be fabulous, so hopefully we'll have a decent turn-out... of adults that is. We get fewer and fewer children each year.
There was a show on the History Channel at 3am this morning (yes, I was up at that time) telling of the history of Halloween. This celebration dates back some 3000 years, having started in Ireland. It was a fascinating show. I wish I could've stayed awake to watch the whole thing, but sleep beckoned. I did learn that part of their tradition was to light a bonfire and make offerings to the gods, by throwing live animals on the fire. Okay, that's a bit cruel, but we'll throw some hotdogs and brats on our fire... must keep the tradition going.
Tuesday, October 30, 2007
The good, the bad, and the worserer
Oh what a difference 17 hours can make in one's life. This is another one of my long blogs, so prepare yourself.
When I left here yesterday, I headed home with the intentions of helping the husband put the new mattress in place. Easier said than done.
We both had lifted out the old mattress, slid it out of the bedroom door, and down the hall with ease. In fact, because of the ease of this, we were ill-prepared for the difficult task of doing these things in reverse with the new mattress, which was much thicker, not to mention probably twice as heavy. The old mattress, when situated within the frame, had a smidgen of room on either side and the ends, so one could easily stick their hand down in there to get sheets tucked in. Not so with the new mattress. This son of a gun, as I said, is sooo much thicker, we barely got it into the bedroom, and once in there, because it was facing the wrong way, this meant we needed to flip it over. What a nightmare!! There are no "handles" on this thing, so good luck trying to pick it up and accomplish this. I'm still not sure how we accomplished it, but after much fussing, cussing, grunting and groaning, we finally got it situated over the frame. Hmm, it seems a bit wider and longer than the old one, and doesn't quite want to slip down into the frame. Okay, tilt it a little, then kind of jump up and down on the other side to force it in place. There, that's got it!
The old mattress was just about level with the top of the frame with the padded side-rails in place. The new mattress sticks up several inches above the frame, and forget putting the side-rails on. They won't fit now. Okay, now to try and put a fitted sheet on this monstrosity. Um, gee, I can't get my hand down between the frame and the mattress, and even if I could, there's no way I could lift the mattress up so I could slip the sheet on. Guess what honey, we're using strictly flat sheets from here on out, and they'll get tucked around the mattress as far as I can get them, but don't expect a tight fit.
I felt as if I needed a shower after that work-out, but time was a-wasting, and we were supposed to go meet an old friend at Tumbleweed. I slipped on some cheap sandals with my lounge-pants, and my over-sized t-shirt with the unraveled hem. Indeed, I looked like a homeless person.
We had no sooner been seated at the restaurant than my cell phone rang. It was our breeder "G", asking a favor if we had time that evening. She had gotten a call from an older couple (mid 80's) that had purchased one of her pups several months ago. They couldn't handle the dog anymore and something had happened over the weekend to spook the dog, and they couldn't get it to come into the house or get into the car, so it had spent the past two nights out in the near-freezing cold. "G", not knowing what she would find when she got there, if the dog would be vicious, or if it was injured, wasn't sure she'd be able to get it loaded into her van by herself. And as the old man had recently had a pacemaker installed, he didn't need to be helping her. So we said, "sure", we'll help.
After dinner, we followed her out to J-town, to a house that was very secluded. It was pitch black out there, and I'd give anything in the world to see this place in the daylight, as I feel it's probably a very beautiful setting. As we pulled into the driveway, we saw the Dane, looking at us through the fenced-in back yard. The old man came out of the house, cautioning all of us to be careful as Zack (the dog) wasn't very friendly towards strangers. Well, Zack made a liar out of the man, as first G, then myself, followed by John walked up to the dog and petted him. What a sweetheart of a dog!! Now that I could see him up close, I remembered which pup he was. He was one of two red-merles born in the last litter that I had absolutely fallen in love with. Their color was rather unique, even G said she'd never seen anything like it in her 40+ years of raising Danes, and I remember having told her last year that when I'm ready for another Dane (hopefully not for several years though), I wanted one just like Zack, or Reese, as she had called him while still in her care.
The old man said Zack wouldn't come into the house to eat, so I fed him some dog treats I had in my pocket. He ate them greedily. I asked if Zack had been neutered, and the old man said he couldn't find a vet that would do it.
Excuse me??? Now I'm starting to wonder if this guy isn't a bit tetched in the head. Whoever heard of a vet that wouldn't spay/neuter a dog? And if for some reason perhaps one vet wouldn't, my goodness, there are hundreds of vet clinics out there, find another one that would!
Zack let G lead him over to her van, but that's as far as he would go. We tried coaxing him into the van, but he started backing away, and just hunkered down against a flowerbed wall and up against a cedar tree.
We tried tugging on the leash, but he just curled up more, whimpering, and shaking hard. It was now evident we'd have to pick him up, but first I went to fetch the muzzle I'd brought along... just in case. As I started putting it on Zack, the old man said, "Oh, he wouldn't bite anybody." Gee, didn't he just say a few minutes ago to be careful because the dog didn't like strangers? Seriously, I think the old man needed to have his mental facilities checked out. But G backed me up on this one, telling the guy that it was better safe than sorry, since the dog didn't know us very well and was scared. We now tried picking him up, but that wasn't working, as he whimpered more, and I couldn't help but wonder if was whimpering from fear or pain. We didn't have much room to maneuver around in, and it was difficult trying to pick him up. Suddenly I had a mental flash-back to the days when we had Kelsey, following her spinal surgeries when she couldn't walk on her own. We'd had to use a sheet/towel slung around her belly to form a sling to carry her with. Perhaps that would work here, so G grabbed a sheet from the van. This proved to be the ticket to our success. She held one end, I the other, and John picked up the front and we got him into the crate.
John and I headed home shortly there after, and I'm now anxious to find out how things went once she got Zack/Reese home.
Ahh, the first night on the new mattress. It didn't take me long to fall asleep. Aside from waking up every time I wanted to turn over (I really need to break myself of that habit!!), I slept great! I woke up, almost pain-free, only that crick that was still in my neck was hurting.
As I was getting ready to leave for work this morning, I let Eliott and Bootsy out back, one at a time to do their thing. When it was time for Bootsy to come in, she was nowhere in sight, so I stepped out on the deck to call her. No Bootsy. I stepped down onto the patio and saw her out in the yard, grazing on bunny-turds. I called her and finally she came galloping past me and up onto the deck. I turned to go up the steps, hooked the toe of my shoe on the first step, and felt myself hurling through space. My face was fast approaching the deck, yet in the split second that all this happened in, the thing that concerned me most were my knee caps. They were on the perfect level with the top step, and I knew if I didn't get my hands out in front of me to break the fall, then I'd probably end up, if not breaking them, then severely scraping and bruising both knees. So I threw out my hands and caught myself, but in the process, managed to wrench my back, shoulders, hips, and every other part of my body. Can you say, AGONY? I'm not so sure that broken knee caps wouldn't have been a better alternative. Nothing is broken, not even a scrape or a bruise, but oh how I hurt all over. So much for waking up feeling good, because right now, I'm feeling worserer than I've felt in quite a while (and yes, I know that's not a real word).
When I left here yesterday, I headed home with the intentions of helping the husband put the new mattress in place. Easier said than done.
We both had lifted out the old mattress, slid it out of the bedroom door, and down the hall with ease. In fact, because of the ease of this, we were ill-prepared for the difficult task of doing these things in reverse with the new mattress, which was much thicker, not to mention probably twice as heavy. The old mattress, when situated within the frame, had a smidgen of room on either side and the ends, so one could easily stick their hand down in there to get sheets tucked in. Not so with the new mattress. This son of a gun, as I said, is sooo much thicker, we barely got it into the bedroom, and once in there, because it was facing the wrong way, this meant we needed to flip it over. What a nightmare!! There are no "handles" on this thing, so good luck trying to pick it up and accomplish this. I'm still not sure how we accomplished it, but after much fussing, cussing, grunting and groaning, we finally got it situated over the frame. Hmm, it seems a bit wider and longer than the old one, and doesn't quite want to slip down into the frame. Okay, tilt it a little, then kind of jump up and down on the other side to force it in place. There, that's got it!
The old mattress was just about level with the top of the frame with the padded side-rails in place. The new mattress sticks up several inches above the frame, and forget putting the side-rails on. They won't fit now. Okay, now to try and put a fitted sheet on this monstrosity. Um, gee, I can't get my hand down between the frame and the mattress, and even if I could, there's no way I could lift the mattress up so I could slip the sheet on. Guess what honey, we're using strictly flat sheets from here on out, and they'll get tucked around the mattress as far as I can get them, but don't expect a tight fit.
I felt as if I needed a shower after that work-out, but time was a-wasting, and we were supposed to go meet an old friend at Tumbleweed. I slipped on some cheap sandals with my lounge-pants, and my over-sized t-shirt with the unraveled hem. Indeed, I looked like a homeless person.
We had no sooner been seated at the restaurant than my cell phone rang. It was our breeder "G", asking a favor if we had time that evening. She had gotten a call from an older couple (mid 80's) that had purchased one of her pups several months ago. They couldn't handle the dog anymore and something had happened over the weekend to spook the dog, and they couldn't get it to come into the house or get into the car, so it had spent the past two nights out in the near-freezing cold. "G", not knowing what she would find when she got there, if the dog would be vicious, or if it was injured, wasn't sure she'd be able to get it loaded into her van by herself. And as the old man had recently had a pacemaker installed, he didn't need to be helping her. So we said, "sure", we'll help.
After dinner, we followed her out to J-town, to a house that was very secluded. It was pitch black out there, and I'd give anything in the world to see this place in the daylight, as I feel it's probably a very beautiful setting. As we pulled into the driveway, we saw the Dane, looking at us through the fenced-in back yard. The old man came out of the house, cautioning all of us to be careful as Zack (the dog) wasn't very friendly towards strangers. Well, Zack made a liar out of the man, as first G, then myself, followed by John walked up to the dog and petted him. What a sweetheart of a dog!! Now that I could see him up close, I remembered which pup he was. He was one of two red-merles born in the last litter that I had absolutely fallen in love with. Their color was rather unique, even G said she'd never seen anything like it in her 40+ years of raising Danes, and I remember having told her last year that when I'm ready for another Dane (hopefully not for several years though), I wanted one just like Zack, or Reese, as she had called him while still in her care.
The old man said Zack wouldn't come into the house to eat, so I fed him some dog treats I had in my pocket. He ate them greedily. I asked if Zack had been neutered, and the old man said he couldn't find a vet that would do it.
Excuse me??? Now I'm starting to wonder if this guy isn't a bit tetched in the head. Whoever heard of a vet that wouldn't spay/neuter a dog? And if for some reason perhaps one vet wouldn't, my goodness, there are hundreds of vet clinics out there, find another one that would!
Zack let G lead him over to her van, but that's as far as he would go. We tried coaxing him into the van, but he started backing away, and just hunkered down against a flowerbed wall and up against a cedar tree.
We tried tugging on the leash, but he just curled up more, whimpering, and shaking hard. It was now evident we'd have to pick him up, but first I went to fetch the muzzle I'd brought along... just in case. As I started putting it on Zack, the old man said, "Oh, he wouldn't bite anybody." Gee, didn't he just say a few minutes ago to be careful because the dog didn't like strangers? Seriously, I think the old man needed to have his mental facilities checked out. But G backed me up on this one, telling the guy that it was better safe than sorry, since the dog didn't know us very well and was scared. We now tried picking him up, but that wasn't working, as he whimpered more, and I couldn't help but wonder if was whimpering from fear or pain. We didn't have much room to maneuver around in, and it was difficult trying to pick him up. Suddenly I had a mental flash-back to the days when we had Kelsey, following her spinal surgeries when she couldn't walk on her own. We'd had to use a sheet/towel slung around her belly to form a sling to carry her with. Perhaps that would work here, so G grabbed a sheet from the van. This proved to be the ticket to our success. She held one end, I the other, and John picked up the front and we got him into the crate.
John and I headed home shortly there after, and I'm now anxious to find out how things went once she got Zack/Reese home.
Ahh, the first night on the new mattress. It didn't take me long to fall asleep. Aside from waking up every time I wanted to turn over (I really need to break myself of that habit!!), I slept great! I woke up, almost pain-free, only that crick that was still in my neck was hurting.
As I was getting ready to leave for work this morning, I let Eliott and Bootsy out back, one at a time to do their thing. When it was time for Bootsy to come in, she was nowhere in sight, so I stepped out on the deck to call her. No Bootsy. I stepped down onto the patio and saw her out in the yard, grazing on bunny-turds. I called her and finally she came galloping past me and up onto the deck. I turned to go up the steps, hooked the toe of my shoe on the first step, and felt myself hurling through space. My face was fast approaching the deck, yet in the split second that all this happened in, the thing that concerned me most were my knee caps. They were on the perfect level with the top step, and I knew if I didn't get my hands out in front of me to break the fall, then I'd probably end up, if not breaking them, then severely scraping and bruising both knees. So I threw out my hands and caught myself, but in the process, managed to wrench my back, shoulders, hips, and every other part of my body. Can you say, AGONY? I'm not so sure that broken knee caps wouldn't have been a better alternative. Nothing is broken, not even a scrape or a bruise, but oh how I hurt all over. So much for waking up feeling good, because right now, I'm feeling worserer than I've felt in quite a while (and yes, I know that's not a real word).
Monday, October 29, 2007
MoMA
MoMA, not to be confused with momma... Moma is the Museum of Modern Art. http://www.momastore.org/
Did you know they have a catalog, a holiday catalog no less, where you can purchase, um, stuff. I simply refuse to call this stuff "art". I suppose this stuff is supposed to be considered "functional", and some of it is. I mean, who couldn't use a lamp, a chair, a serving tray or a picture for our wall? But honestly, most of this stuff is hideous! And oh my gosh!, the prices!! I know, I know, I shouldn't even open my mouth. After all, it's not as if my house is decorated in anything other than dog hair and dried slobber. Hmm, wonder if I could take all the dog-hair-tumbleweeds and lint from the dryer and turn that into art and sell it??? I could be sitting on a virtual gold mine!!
But back to the catalog. It was delivered to the office by mistake, otherwise I'd never have known such a catalog existed. As I was thumbing through it, shaking my head at one object d' art after another, my head nearly spun in a complete 360 degrees when I came upon the framed DNA print. Yes, you read that correctly, DNA.
For a mere $550 (or $495 if you're a "member"), they will send you a DNA collection kit so that you may collect the DNA from your cheek, or that of a loved one, or even perhaps a favored pet. You will then send the swab to a secure certified lab for processing and delivery of complete framed print, in your choice of light or dark wood. Please allow 6 weeks for processing.
Now I've heard everything!!
Aren't crime-labs supposedly very back-logged in getting this kind of "evidence" processed? How is it that a catalog can offer this service in a guaranteed time of 6 weeks? Framed no less!!
I can see it now... the government, in an effort to collect DNA from EVERYBODY so that it will be on file, will start offering these lovely, framed prints at a reduced price. You can hang it on your wall, and they'll have it on file for future reference. Then one day in the future, a crime will happen in your home and the police will be able to pin the crime on "Rover", who died 15 years previously, simply because his DNA was on the wall at the scene of the crime. Gimme a break!!
Did you know they have a catalog, a holiday catalog no less, where you can purchase, um, stuff. I simply refuse to call this stuff "art". I suppose this stuff is supposed to be considered "functional", and some of it is. I mean, who couldn't use a lamp, a chair, a serving tray or a picture for our wall? But honestly, most of this stuff is hideous! And oh my gosh!, the prices!! I know, I know, I shouldn't even open my mouth. After all, it's not as if my house is decorated in anything other than dog hair and dried slobber. Hmm, wonder if I could take all the dog-hair-tumbleweeds and lint from the dryer and turn that into art and sell it??? I could be sitting on a virtual gold mine!!
But back to the catalog. It was delivered to the office by mistake, otherwise I'd never have known such a catalog existed. As I was thumbing through it, shaking my head at one object d' art after another, my head nearly spun in a complete 360 degrees when I came upon the framed DNA print. Yes, you read that correctly, DNA.
For a mere $550 (or $495 if you're a "member"), they will send you a DNA collection kit so that you may collect the DNA from your cheek, or that of a loved one, or even perhaps a favored pet. You will then send the swab to a secure certified lab for processing and delivery of complete framed print, in your choice of light or dark wood. Please allow 6 weeks for processing.
Now I've heard everything!!
Aren't crime-labs supposedly very back-logged in getting this kind of "evidence" processed? How is it that a catalog can offer this service in a guaranteed time of 6 weeks? Framed no less!!
I can see it now... the government, in an effort to collect DNA from EVERYBODY so that it will be on file, will start offering these lovely, framed prints at a reduced price. You can hang it on your wall, and they'll have it on file for future reference. Then one day in the future, a crime will happen in your home and the police will be able to pin the crime on "Rover", who died 15 years previously, simply because his DNA was on the wall at the scene of the crime. Gimme a break!!
Rest easy
Today is the big day. Our new mattress was delivered this morning. I can hardly wait to go home and try it out. I just want to take a running leap and land on it. Of course first I'll have to help the husband insert it... the mattress that is.
I got the call about a week and a half ago that it was ready for delivery, but as I was going out of town, I didn't want the husband drooling on it in his sleep until I'd had a chance to sleep on it too, so I told them to wait until today to deliver it.
Selfish of me?
Well, not entirely.
Monday is pretty much the only day they could deliver it that wouldn't require one of us taking a day off from work or me off from the Luci Ctr. And the husband already had plans for last Monday to be in a golf-scramble... but how was I to know at that time that it would be rained out? So today was really the first day anyone would've been home to accept delivery.
Technically they're supposed to remove the old mattress and install the new one, but we decided to "meet them half way", so to speak. I stripped the old mattress this morning and tossed the bedding into the washer. Then we removed the old mattress and stood it up in the hallway. That way when the delivery guys came, all they'd have to do is slide it on out the door... leave the plastic on the new mattress, and slide it into the hallway. We'll take care of re-inserting it into the waterbed-frame this evening.
You know my real reason for doing all this is so I didn't have to clean the bedroom. Pathetic as that is, that was my reason. But geesh!, I've been gone for over a week, when was I supposed to accomplish this?
So tonight I'll hopefully get a really marvelous nights sleep... or get a really crappy one. I'm hoping for the marvelous. I guess tomorrow morning I'll know whether or not we made a good choice.
I got the call about a week and a half ago that it was ready for delivery, but as I was going out of town, I didn't want the husband drooling on it in his sleep until I'd had a chance to sleep on it too, so I told them to wait until today to deliver it.
Selfish of me?
Well, not entirely.
Monday is pretty much the only day they could deliver it that wouldn't require one of us taking a day off from work or me off from the Luci Ctr. And the husband already had plans for last Monday to be in a golf-scramble... but how was I to know at that time that it would be rained out? So today was really the first day anyone would've been home to accept delivery.
Technically they're supposed to remove the old mattress and install the new one, but we decided to "meet them half way", so to speak. I stripped the old mattress this morning and tossed the bedding into the washer. Then we removed the old mattress and stood it up in the hallway. That way when the delivery guys came, all they'd have to do is slide it on out the door... leave the plastic on the new mattress, and slide it into the hallway. We'll take care of re-inserting it into the waterbed-frame this evening.
You know my real reason for doing all this is so I didn't have to clean the bedroom. Pathetic as that is, that was my reason. But geesh!, I've been gone for over a week, when was I supposed to accomplish this?
So tonight I'll hopefully get a really marvelous nights sleep... or get a really crappy one. I'm hoping for the marvelous. I guess tomorrow morning I'll know whether or not we made a good choice.
Luci-Saturday
Another Saturday at Luci's.
I was assigned to work with a different student this week. While this child has D.S., it's a very mild case... I never knew there were such varying degrees of Downs... you almost have to look twice to tell she even has it. She's cute as can be, and has a pretty good vocabulary, even by most 9 year olds standards, and is pretty easy to understand. You can't help but smile in an effort not to laugh at some of her antics. At times she can be quite willful and petulant, scowling at everything, and the next moment she'll break out into giggles, then kissing her fingertips before touching her fingertips to my face.
It amazed me when one of the instructors thanked me, not once, but twice for being there and helping. I felt like I should be thanking them. As I told her, it was my pleasure and I was having a good time.
I was assigned to work with a different student this week. While this child has D.S., it's a very mild case... I never knew there were such varying degrees of Downs... you almost have to look twice to tell she even has it. She's cute as can be, and has a pretty good vocabulary, even by most 9 year olds standards, and is pretty easy to understand. You can't help but smile in an effort not to laugh at some of her antics. At times she can be quite willful and petulant, scowling at everything, and the next moment she'll break out into giggles, then kissing her fingertips before touching her fingertips to my face.
It amazed me when one of the instructors thanked me, not once, but twice for being there and helping. I felt like I should be thanking them. As I told her, it was my pleasure and I was having a good time.
We're not in Kansas anymore...!
There's no place like home,
There's no place like home,
There's no place like home!
I won't bother clicking my heels together as I repeat those lines, simply because one heel is still too tender from my wound.
I put a bandage on it specifically for blisters, thinking that would help to protect it from being rubbed by my "new" (only the 2nd wearing) boots, but not only did it not help, I think it made things worse. **ouch**
I am back home now. Eight days spent in the country. I do love the country, but it's always good to get back home, regardless of where your home is located... in my case, the suburbs. I arrived back home about 10:30 Sunday morning, so that I could do some laundry and get a few things done before heading to bunco in Borden, Ind., and as I knew it would be rather late (8:30 as it turned out) before I'd get back home from feeding my step-children their evening fare.
As I approached the house, I called the husband so that he could bring my babies out to see me one at a time. They always show such exuberance when I return home, especially after having been gone more than a day. As Eliott has a tendency towards excitement-urination, I felt it best he greet me outside so I wouldn't have a mess to clean up inside. He was quite happy to see his momma. After fluffering up his ears, giving him a big bear hug and allowing him to stick his wet nose in my face, John took him back in to swap out the dogs. Eliott had to be coaxed back inside, as he kept facing me in the yard, seeming to not want to take his eyes off of me, lest I disappear again.
Next came Bootsy. a.k.a. Miss Enthusiasm. She came bounding out the door, dragging John behind her. I got the expected greeting of her jumping up on me, hugging my neck with her paws. I wrapped my arms around her deep chest and we jumped up and down together in glee. When she finally returned to standing on all fours, she then jumped on the car, peering inside as if she feared I might be bringing home another dog. Another hug from my girl, and John had to literally drag her away, she too not wanting to take her eyes off of me. By now the husband was cussing, #1) at the dogs' unwillingness to obey him, and #2) I think he was offended that they never showed that much excitement over him coming home. Well, what can I say? I'm always there for them. I'm the primary care giver. They're used to him being gone.
Lastly came my little Olivia. Holy crap, what had he been feeding her? She looked like she'd put on 10 lbs. I started her on a diet this morning. She didn't show quite as much enthusiasm for my return, but I think that's because she didn't see me until she'd just about bumped into me. She did finally stand up and give me a hug. Once we got into the house, she became my shadow, not letting me out of her sight except when I went to take a shower.
The husband show'd his gratitude for my return. All the dishes were washed and put away, he'd run the vacuum cleaner, and he'd already washed his work uniforms and put them away. Gee, maybe I should go away more often! Of course, there was a mountain of dirty dog blankets in the hall that needed to be washed, but he still made an effort.
Yes Toto, it's good to be home.
There's no place like home,
There's no place like home!
I won't bother clicking my heels together as I repeat those lines, simply because one heel is still too tender from my wound.
I put a bandage on it specifically for blisters, thinking that would help to protect it from being rubbed by my "new" (only the 2nd wearing) boots, but not only did it not help, I think it made things worse. **ouch**
I am back home now. Eight days spent in the country. I do love the country, but it's always good to get back home, regardless of where your home is located... in my case, the suburbs. I arrived back home about 10:30 Sunday morning, so that I could do some laundry and get a few things done before heading to bunco in Borden, Ind., and as I knew it would be rather late (8:30 as it turned out) before I'd get back home from feeding my step-children their evening fare.
As I approached the house, I called the husband so that he could bring my babies out to see me one at a time. They always show such exuberance when I return home, especially after having been gone more than a day. As Eliott has a tendency towards excitement-urination, I felt it best he greet me outside so I wouldn't have a mess to clean up inside. He was quite happy to see his momma. After fluffering up his ears, giving him a big bear hug and allowing him to stick his wet nose in my face, John took him back in to swap out the dogs. Eliott had to be coaxed back inside, as he kept facing me in the yard, seeming to not want to take his eyes off of me, lest I disappear again.
Next came Bootsy. a.k.a. Miss Enthusiasm. She came bounding out the door, dragging John behind her. I got the expected greeting of her jumping up on me, hugging my neck with her paws. I wrapped my arms around her deep chest and we jumped up and down together in glee. When she finally returned to standing on all fours, she then jumped on the car, peering inside as if she feared I might be bringing home another dog. Another hug from my girl, and John had to literally drag her away, she too not wanting to take her eyes off of me. By now the husband was cussing, #1) at the dogs' unwillingness to obey him, and #2) I think he was offended that they never showed that much excitement over him coming home. Well, what can I say? I'm always there for them. I'm the primary care giver. They're used to him being gone.
Lastly came my little Olivia. Holy crap, what had he been feeding her? She looked like she'd put on 10 lbs. I started her on a diet this morning. She didn't show quite as much enthusiasm for my return, but I think that's because she didn't see me until she'd just about bumped into me. She did finally stand up and give me a hug. Once we got into the house, she became my shadow, not letting me out of her sight except when I went to take a shower.
The husband show'd his gratitude for my return. All the dishes were washed and put away, he'd run the vacuum cleaner, and he'd already washed his work uniforms and put them away. Gee, maybe I should go away more often! Of course, there was a mountain of dirty dog blankets in the hall that needed to be washed, but he still made an effort.
Yes Toto, it's good to be home.
Friday, October 26, 2007
Adding a verse...
Most likely, you've heard the catchy little phrase, "If you sprinkle when you tinkle, be a sweety and wipe the seaty", or at the very least, you've read it on a bathroom wall.
This of course refers to those that seem to have a problem going to the bathroom properly.
I'd now like to add a couple of verses to that familiar phrase...
If you sprinkle when you tinkle, be a sweety and wipe the seaty.
Should you miss and hit the floor, then clean it up before you exit the door.
And if you shed upon the seat, then clean it up and leave it neat.
Don't leave your remains in the bowl to stay, flush it down and send it away.
For there are others who will follow you, and none of them wants to see your pooh.
This of course refers to those that seem to have a problem going to the bathroom properly.
I'd now like to add a couple of verses to that familiar phrase...
If you sprinkle when you tinkle, be a sweety and wipe the seaty.
Should you miss and hit the floor, then clean it up before you exit the door.
And if you shed upon the seat, then clean it up and leave it neat.
Don't leave your remains in the bowl to stay, flush it down and send it away.
For there are others who will follow you, and none of them wants to see your pooh.
Learning something new
For years now, I've been living with the erroneous idea that those blue wildflowers that you typically find growing along fence rows in the country, or along the roadside were cornflowers. While they may be cornflower-blue in color, they are not cornflowers. Imagine my surprise to learn that they are in fact chicory, which is closely related to the dandelion.
Now there's a word I haven't heard in umpteen years. In fact, I don't think I've heard "chicory" since I was a kid. Of course I never knew what chicory was, just that it had something to do with coffee.
I did some 'surfing on chicory and found out that it has quite a lot of uses. Not only can it be used to make a decaffeinated coffee (a much more economical coffee at that!), it's used in salads, as a blood purifier, as a poultice on blisters and other sores, and a host of other uses.
I'm now tempted to "harvest" some while I'm out in the country, and see if I can get it to grow in my flowerbed at home.
I just hope I don't mistake it for weeds and pull them up or spray them with weed-killer.
Now there's a word I haven't heard in umpteen years. In fact, I don't think I've heard "chicory" since I was a kid. Of course I never knew what chicory was, just that it had something to do with coffee.
I did some 'surfing on chicory and found out that it has quite a lot of uses. Not only can it be used to make a decaffeinated coffee (a much more economical coffee at that!), it's used in salads, as a blood purifier, as a poultice on blisters and other sores, and a host of other uses.
I'm now tempted to "harvest" some while I'm out in the country, and see if I can get it to grow in my flowerbed at home.
I just hope I don't mistake it for weeds and pull them up or spray them with weed-killer.
It's raining, but not water.
I woke up with a crick in my neck this morning. I don't know why, but it's there. Not the worst one I've ever experienced, but just enough to be really annoying, so I'm sitting here with a heating pad draped across my neck.
As I was sitting here at my desk, staring off into space, willing the pain away, I noticed something odd and out of place. I have a small, about 12" long, stuffed animal hanging from the door handle on one of my desk's compartments. It's a Curious George fireman. On George's sleeve was a curious substance. It looked like... no, it can't be, could it?... I looked closer, yes, it appeared to be bird-poop.
I'm fairly certain it wasn't there yesterday. Surely I would've noticed bird poop hanging right in front of my face, wouldn't I? Well, even if it was there yesterday, I know without a doubt it had to have happened at some point this week, as I had knocked George down a few days ago, but before re-hanging him, I took a moment to hold him in my hands, and look at him before hanging him back up. Now I know I would've noticed the poop at that time, had it been there.
Of course I gave a small shriek when I saw it, more of indignation than anything, took George down and asked how bird poop got on him. I know I said it in an accusing way to the boss, almost as if he was responsible. I know he wasn't, but I couldn't help myself. He almost seemed not to believe me, so I took George to him and pointed it out. He proclaimed it to be bat poop. That's even worse! I don't know what bat poop looks like, and I don't care. But the thought of a bat having flown over my desk un-nerved me.
We did have a bat in the funeral home one day last week. Actually 2 of them, but I didn't know about the 2nd one until just a few minutes ago, so perhaps one (or both) of them did fly upstairs and leave a present on George, before flying back downstairs. The cleaning crew that comes in at night had gotten one of them out (the one I didn't know about), but last Thursday I believe it was, the other one was clinging to the curtains, and we had a family getting ready to come in for their sister's funeral. Had to get the bat out before the guests arrived.
I was already upstairs and knew nothing about it, else I'd have never entered the building 'til it was gone. But the boss came upstairs to get a "shopping bag" that we put stuff in for families, as he was going to capture it in the bag. He asked me to hold the bag while he flicked the bat into it. I just looked at him and asked if he wanted to go on and make my funeral arrangements while he was at it. I don't think so Tim!
I don't know how it was gotten rid of, but the bat was sent packing, and I never laid eyes on it.
Okay, so something pooped on my George this week. Another bat perhaps? I think the boss was messing with me more than anything, but he asked if I'd checked under the desk, to make sure there wasn't a bat hanging under there. While I still think a bird made the poop, I couldn't get the idea of a bat hanging under my desk out of my mind, so I've been walking around all morning, bent over at the waist, looking under desks before I'd sit down.
Then, I went towards the file room and passed by a small end-table and noticed another splash of poop. Now I KNOW darn good and well that wasn't there yesterday. There is no way I would've missed seeing two poop splashes in this office.
I now feel the need to disinfect everything in sight, and I keep looking up at the ceiling to see if anything is ready to do a fly-by and rain poop down on me.
As I was sitting here at my desk, staring off into space, willing the pain away, I noticed something odd and out of place. I have a small, about 12" long, stuffed animal hanging from the door handle on one of my desk's compartments. It's a Curious George fireman. On George's sleeve was a curious substance. It looked like... no, it can't be, could it?... I looked closer, yes, it appeared to be bird-poop.
I'm fairly certain it wasn't there yesterday. Surely I would've noticed bird poop hanging right in front of my face, wouldn't I? Well, even if it was there yesterday, I know without a doubt it had to have happened at some point this week, as I had knocked George down a few days ago, but before re-hanging him, I took a moment to hold him in my hands, and look at him before hanging him back up. Now I know I would've noticed the poop at that time, had it been there.
Of course I gave a small shriek when I saw it, more of indignation than anything, took George down and asked how bird poop got on him. I know I said it in an accusing way to the boss, almost as if he was responsible. I know he wasn't, but I couldn't help myself. He almost seemed not to believe me, so I took George to him and pointed it out. He proclaimed it to be bat poop. That's even worse! I don't know what bat poop looks like, and I don't care. But the thought of a bat having flown over my desk un-nerved me.
We did have a bat in the funeral home one day last week. Actually 2 of them, but I didn't know about the 2nd one until just a few minutes ago, so perhaps one (or both) of them did fly upstairs and leave a present on George, before flying back downstairs. The cleaning crew that comes in at night had gotten one of them out (the one I didn't know about), but last Thursday I believe it was, the other one was clinging to the curtains, and we had a family getting ready to come in for their sister's funeral. Had to get the bat out before the guests arrived.
I was already upstairs and knew nothing about it, else I'd have never entered the building 'til it was gone. But the boss came upstairs to get a "shopping bag" that we put stuff in for families, as he was going to capture it in the bag. He asked me to hold the bag while he flicked the bat into it. I just looked at him and asked if he wanted to go on and make my funeral arrangements while he was at it. I don't think so Tim!
I don't know how it was gotten rid of, but the bat was sent packing, and I never laid eyes on it.
Okay, so something pooped on my George this week. Another bat perhaps? I think the boss was messing with me more than anything, but he asked if I'd checked under the desk, to make sure there wasn't a bat hanging under there. While I still think a bird made the poop, I couldn't get the idea of a bat hanging under my desk out of my mind, so I've been walking around all morning, bent over at the waist, looking under desks before I'd sit down.
Then, I went towards the file room and passed by a small end-table and noticed another splash of poop. Now I KNOW darn good and well that wasn't there yesterday. There is no way I would've missed seeing two poop splashes in this office.
I now feel the need to disinfect everything in sight, and I keep looking up at the ceiling to see if anything is ready to do a fly-by and rain poop down on me.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Duh meaning
On more than one occasion in the past, I've contemplated blogging about this, but obviously never have. Well, now it's time. Add this one to my long list of pet-peeves: terms of endearment. And I don't mean the movie.
Honey, Sweetie, Babe, Sweetheart, Sugar, Dear... you know what I'm talking about. Those names used to refer to someone, without using their given name, or used in place of a more polite title of sir or ma'am. I hate them when used by someone I don't even know.
When used between family members or good friends, they are exactly what I called them, a term of endearment. We use these "pet names" for people we love or are fond of. No insult intended, and not used to demean.
And some overly-friendly, out-going people use these terms a lot too, and it's just part of their vernacular, especially it seems, among country-folk. Again, no offense is meant, and none is usually taken.
However, this is where it gets tricky.
When perfect strangers refer to me in those terms, it just grates on my nerves so badly I want to punch their lights out!!
There is a guy that has worked the drive-thru window at just about every fast-food joint in LaGrange in the past 5 years, and it's almost gotten to the point that I avoid whichever place he's working at, just to keep from having him wait on me. It's bad enough that he greets me that way when I pull up to the window, but he also does this when I'm placing my order at the menu-board/speaker. Arghh!! Somehow, coming from him it is just soooo demeaning.
I stopped at Burger King this morning to get a hamlet sandwich. It was a momentary lapse of judgement on my part, as he's been working BK's drive-thru in the mornings here lately. Luck was on my side though, as he wasn't there. However, as I left the parking lot and turned onto Hwy. 53, I saw him walking north, along the shoulder. I had to resist the urge to run him over. That might stop him from calling me "honey" ever again.
In all honesty, I couldn't help but wonder if I didn't get him fired from one of his previous jobs. The receipt that came with my meal asked me to call some 1-800 # or go on-line and take a survey about my experience at that restaurant. So I went on-line, filled it out, and as I recall, I included my thoughts on that employee using terms of endearment so freely. I noticed that not long afterwards he was working at another restaurant. Okay, so he's my biggest gripe.
But then, this afternoon, a man called the office that I've never met before. He starts talking to me like we're best friends or something, and tells me he's going to stop by the office tomorrow and pick up a file. Okay, that's all good and fine. But when he called me "Sweety" before hanging up the phone, I just wanted to SCREAM!
Again, for reasons I can't explain, it just seemed so demeaning. If they can't call me by my name, then call me ma'am.
Honey, Sweetie, Babe, Sweetheart, Sugar, Dear... you know what I'm talking about. Those names used to refer to someone, without using their given name, or used in place of a more polite title of sir or ma'am. I hate them when used by someone I don't even know.
When used between family members or good friends, they are exactly what I called them, a term of endearment. We use these "pet names" for people we love or are fond of. No insult intended, and not used to demean.
And some overly-friendly, out-going people use these terms a lot too, and it's just part of their vernacular, especially it seems, among country-folk. Again, no offense is meant, and none is usually taken.
However, this is where it gets tricky.
When perfect strangers refer to me in those terms, it just grates on my nerves so badly I want to punch their lights out!!
There is a guy that has worked the drive-thru window at just about every fast-food joint in LaGrange in the past 5 years, and it's almost gotten to the point that I avoid whichever place he's working at, just to keep from having him wait on me. It's bad enough that he greets me that way when I pull up to the window, but he also does this when I'm placing my order at the menu-board/speaker. Arghh!! Somehow, coming from him it is just soooo demeaning.
I stopped at Burger King this morning to get a hamlet sandwich. It was a momentary lapse of judgement on my part, as he's been working BK's drive-thru in the mornings here lately. Luck was on my side though, as he wasn't there. However, as I left the parking lot and turned onto Hwy. 53, I saw him walking north, along the shoulder. I had to resist the urge to run him over. That might stop him from calling me "honey" ever again.
In all honesty, I couldn't help but wonder if I didn't get him fired from one of his previous jobs. The receipt that came with my meal asked me to call some 1-800 # or go on-line and take a survey about my experience at that restaurant. So I went on-line, filled it out, and as I recall, I included my thoughts on that employee using terms of endearment so freely. I noticed that not long afterwards he was working at another restaurant. Okay, so he's my biggest gripe.
But then, this afternoon, a man called the office that I've never met before. He starts talking to me like we're best friends or something, and tells me he's going to stop by the office tomorrow and pick up a file. Okay, that's all good and fine. But when he called me "Sweety" before hanging up the phone, I just wanted to SCREAM!
Again, for reasons I can't explain, it just seemed so demeaning. If they can't call me by my name, then call me ma'am.
Wednesday, October 24, 2007
Huh?
Eye sea ewe. Dew U.C. watt aye sea?
Their mite bee sum moor stu left. Aisle cheque four yoo-hoo can't.
Butt y? Bee cause eye sed sew.
Secund plays beets cumin in last.
Cum hear, here mi?
Bred doe has two ryes be four bay king.
Merry road Herr hoarse too half sum thin two dew.
Okay, I was just having some fun with words. Please don't take offense at any of them. I got each and every one of them from the dictionary and it may not mean what you think it means.
But is it any wonder they say the English language is so difficult to learn? So many words that sound alike yet are spelled so differently and mean such different things.
Their mite bee sum moor stu left. Aisle cheque four yoo-hoo can't.
Butt y? Bee cause eye sed sew.
Secund plays beets cumin in last.
Cum hear, here mi?
Bred doe has two ryes be four bay king.
Merry road Herr hoarse too half sum thin two dew.
Okay, I was just having some fun with words. Please don't take offense at any of them. I got each and every one of them from the dictionary and it may not mean what you think it means.
But is it any wonder they say the English language is so difficult to learn? So many words that sound alike yet are spelled so differently and mean such different things.
Crime pays
Some of you may recall that around Memorial Day of 2006, my car was broken into and several items stolen. Among the items taken were a Dell computer, monitor, and the works, and some supplies I'd purchased at Sam's the day before but hadn't unloaded.
As the deductible we had at that time for break-in/stolen items was around a thousand bucks, and the items added up to about that much, we never turned it in on our insurance.
The police did eventually apprehend the 5 or so thugs. Of course, none of the items were recovered. A couple of the gang members were jailed, and the rest were given probation and are supposed to pay restitution.
When I got the letter a few months ago from the Commonwealth Attorney's Office stating all these things and that they were supposed to pay restitution, I remember laughing at the thought that these criminals were going to payback all the victims they'd stolen from during that weekend long crime spree.
So imagine my surprise when I got the mail the other day and there was an envelope from that office. Since I really never expected to hear from them again, my first thoughts was: jury duty.
I mentally groaned as I saw it was addressed to me. Crap! Not jury duty, again! I just served about 9 years ago, why me?? I opened the envelope and nearly fell over when I realized there was a check enclosed.
Then I saw the amount of the check and I nearly fell over in laughter. Of the $1000 that is owed to me, I have now been paid $16.06. Whew! Better not spend all that at one time.
Let's see, so it's taken them 17 months to come up with that much money. If I receive that much each time, every 17 months, they should have it paid off in another 90 years or so. At that rate, the perps great-grandchildren will be paying off the restitution to my great-great nieces/nephews.
Who says crime doesn't pay?
As the deductible we had at that time for break-in/stolen items was around a thousand bucks, and the items added up to about that much, we never turned it in on our insurance.
The police did eventually apprehend the 5 or so thugs. Of course, none of the items were recovered. A couple of the gang members were jailed, and the rest were given probation and are supposed to pay restitution.
When I got the letter a few months ago from the Commonwealth Attorney's Office stating all these things and that they were supposed to pay restitution, I remember laughing at the thought that these criminals were going to payback all the victims they'd stolen from during that weekend long crime spree.
So imagine my surprise when I got the mail the other day and there was an envelope from that office. Since I really never expected to hear from them again, my first thoughts was: jury duty.
I mentally groaned as I saw it was addressed to me. Crap! Not jury duty, again! I just served about 9 years ago, why me?? I opened the envelope and nearly fell over when I realized there was a check enclosed.
Then I saw the amount of the check and I nearly fell over in laughter. Of the $1000 that is owed to me, I have now been paid $16.06. Whew! Better not spend all that at one time.
Let's see, so it's taken them 17 months to come up with that much money. If I receive that much each time, every 17 months, they should have it paid off in another 90 years or so. At that rate, the perps great-grandchildren will be paying off the restitution to my great-great nieces/nephews.
Who says crime doesn't pay?
Having one of THOSE days.
We all have them from time to time, you know what I'm talking about, one of THOSE days.
You know the kind. Things just aren't going well; they start off bad and they just continue to go downhill as the day wears on.
The temperature dropped overnight, leaving the house almost frigid as I still had all the windows open. I was burrowed down deep in the covers, sleeping quite well for a change, until the darned alarm clock went off. Being as how my "step-children" aren't on quite the same schedule as my children are, I suppose they aren't used to having to hold it as long when they are in the house... they normally come into the house much later than the 9pm or so that I bring them in, and they're used to returning to their kennels at a much earlier hour than the 6am I've been getting up. That having been said, I guess you know what's coming next...
After dressing and shuffling my way to the dog-room at the opposite end of the house, I started detecting an odor as I approached. I flipped on the light and was greeted with not one, not two, but three puddles of dog-pee. While I can't be positive, I feel fairly confident in pointing the finger of blame at Cory, the male, simply because the puddles were all up against things, as if he'd hiked his leg, instead of just a puddle in the floor as if one of the girls had squatted.
Well that's just great! It was bad enough that he pee'd on two of the dog beds, but what was worse was that he pee'd on the rocking chair, which is wicker... you know, the woven wood-like material. That will be impossible to get completely clean. Damn dog!
I shooed them all out to the kennel and let them out into the yard one at a time to do their biz. Then went back inside to grab a towel and mop up as much of the mess as possible. I found the mop, but it's the old-fashioned kind that you have to bend over and wring out with your hands... my back hurt at the thought of it. I really need a sponge mop that I can just push a lever and wring out. Grumble, grumble.
Okay, some dogs didn't even want to go out because we're having our third day of rain... will it ever end?? They are truly getting hyped up with all their pent-up energy. I know what's going to happen... it will finally quit raining (someday), I'll let them out to exercise, they'll run amuck, and they're going to return covered from head to toe to tail in mud and I'll have to give all 10 of them a bath. My back ached a little more at the thought of it, especially at the thoughts of bathing the 3 whippets.
I was preparing to leave the property and go to work. I had to stop at the end of the driveway #1 to put my trash in the dumpster and #2 to unlock/open the big gate. In order to put trash into the dumpster, I have to unhook a bungee cord, which makes this all a 2-handed job. The rain, which had actually stopped (for a brief moment) started again just as I was getting out of the car. I leaned over the fence to dump the trash, and got the front of my clothes wet. I got the gate opened, drove through and then walked back to close the gate. The gate started swinging shut faster than I was walking, and it came up over the back of my heel, sending a bolt of pain through my foot and leg, making me yelp then cuss, and nearly knocking me down. Because of the throbbing in my heel, I couldn't seem to make my fingers work properly and had a difficult time latching the gate closed, which meant I had to stand out in the rain a little longer.
I have been wearing some cheap sandals because of all the rain and wetness I had to walk through, I didn't want to get my good shoes wet and muddy, so I've been putting them on once I get into my office. Once I finally got into the car, I started fumbling around in the glove-box, looking for a kleenex or napkin to wipe my heel off with. I couldn't tell in the dim light if it was dirt, mud, or blood on my heel. I dabbed at it and looked at the napkin. It looked like a mixture of dirt and chipped pain from the rusty old gate. I dabbed again, but saw nothing else on the napkin, so I drove on to work.
The pain had subsided by the time I arrived, and as I was getting out of the car, I glanced down at my heel and saw a line of blood that trickled down the back of my heel. Hmm, guess it was worse than I thought. Just knowing that there was a wound bad enough to produce that much blood sent my psyche to work imaging pain that probably wasn't there. I dumped my purse and lunch on the table and hobbled to the bathroom. I managed to get my foot into the sink so I could rinse away the blood. Blech!! There was a big flap of skin hanging there. I couldn't bring myself to pull it off. I put a band-aid over it but it didn't take long for the blood to soak through it. It really didn't need stitches, but my mind started scrambling. It had been 12 1/2 years since my last tetanus shot. I was over due. The gate was rusty and dirty. If I don't do anything, with the way my luck runs, I'll be dead of tetanus by the end of the week. Better be safe than sorry... so I went to the Urgent Care, spent an hour there and watched people going in ahead of me that most certainly arrived there after me. I'm dripping blood, they have a little cough or tummy ache... who has priority? Well, none of us was there for a life-threatening emergency, it should be on a first-come-first-serve basis. But somehow it wasn't.
Temperature taken, blood pressure and pulse taken, and asked by at least three different people if I had diabetes, I was finally given a tetanus shot, a clean band-aid and the medical advice of keep the wound clean and dry. Um, yeah, uh, doc, have you seen the 7" of rain we've gotten the past 36 hours? Keeping it dry is pretty much a lost cause.
I am so ready for this day to be over with.
You know the kind. Things just aren't going well; they start off bad and they just continue to go downhill as the day wears on.
The temperature dropped overnight, leaving the house almost frigid as I still had all the windows open. I was burrowed down deep in the covers, sleeping quite well for a change, until the darned alarm clock went off. Being as how my "step-children" aren't on quite the same schedule as my children are, I suppose they aren't used to having to hold it as long when they are in the house... they normally come into the house much later than the 9pm or so that I bring them in, and they're used to returning to their kennels at a much earlier hour than the 6am I've been getting up. That having been said, I guess you know what's coming next...
After dressing and shuffling my way to the dog-room at the opposite end of the house, I started detecting an odor as I approached. I flipped on the light and was greeted with not one, not two, but three puddles of dog-pee. While I can't be positive, I feel fairly confident in pointing the finger of blame at Cory, the male, simply because the puddles were all up against things, as if he'd hiked his leg, instead of just a puddle in the floor as if one of the girls had squatted.
Well that's just great! It was bad enough that he pee'd on two of the dog beds, but what was worse was that he pee'd on the rocking chair, which is wicker... you know, the woven wood-like material. That will be impossible to get completely clean. Damn dog!
I shooed them all out to the kennel and let them out into the yard one at a time to do their biz. Then went back inside to grab a towel and mop up as much of the mess as possible. I found the mop, but it's the old-fashioned kind that you have to bend over and wring out with your hands... my back hurt at the thought of it. I really need a sponge mop that I can just push a lever and wring out. Grumble, grumble.
Okay, some dogs didn't even want to go out because we're having our third day of rain... will it ever end?? They are truly getting hyped up with all their pent-up energy. I know what's going to happen... it will finally quit raining (someday), I'll let them out to exercise, they'll run amuck, and they're going to return covered from head to toe to tail in mud and I'll have to give all 10 of them a bath. My back ached a little more at the thought of it, especially at the thoughts of bathing the 3 whippets.
I was preparing to leave the property and go to work. I had to stop at the end of the driveway #1 to put my trash in the dumpster and #2 to unlock/open the big gate. In order to put trash into the dumpster, I have to unhook a bungee cord, which makes this all a 2-handed job. The rain, which had actually stopped (for a brief moment) started again just as I was getting out of the car. I leaned over the fence to dump the trash, and got the front of my clothes wet. I got the gate opened, drove through and then walked back to close the gate. The gate started swinging shut faster than I was walking, and it came up over the back of my heel, sending a bolt of pain through my foot and leg, making me yelp then cuss, and nearly knocking me down. Because of the throbbing in my heel, I couldn't seem to make my fingers work properly and had a difficult time latching the gate closed, which meant I had to stand out in the rain a little longer.
I have been wearing some cheap sandals because of all the rain and wetness I had to walk through, I didn't want to get my good shoes wet and muddy, so I've been putting them on once I get into my office. Once I finally got into the car, I started fumbling around in the glove-box, looking for a kleenex or napkin to wipe my heel off with. I couldn't tell in the dim light if it was dirt, mud, or blood on my heel. I dabbed at it and looked at the napkin. It looked like a mixture of dirt and chipped pain from the rusty old gate. I dabbed again, but saw nothing else on the napkin, so I drove on to work.
The pain had subsided by the time I arrived, and as I was getting out of the car, I glanced down at my heel and saw a line of blood that trickled down the back of my heel. Hmm, guess it was worse than I thought. Just knowing that there was a wound bad enough to produce that much blood sent my psyche to work imaging pain that probably wasn't there. I dumped my purse and lunch on the table and hobbled to the bathroom. I managed to get my foot into the sink so I could rinse away the blood. Blech!! There was a big flap of skin hanging there. I couldn't bring myself to pull it off. I put a band-aid over it but it didn't take long for the blood to soak through it. It really didn't need stitches, but my mind started scrambling. It had been 12 1/2 years since my last tetanus shot. I was over due. The gate was rusty and dirty. If I don't do anything, with the way my luck runs, I'll be dead of tetanus by the end of the week. Better be safe than sorry... so I went to the Urgent Care, spent an hour there and watched people going in ahead of me that most certainly arrived there after me. I'm dripping blood, they have a little cough or tummy ache... who has priority? Well, none of us was there for a life-threatening emergency, it should be on a first-come-first-serve basis. But somehow it wasn't.
Temperature taken, blood pressure and pulse taken, and asked by at least three different people if I had diabetes, I was finally given a tetanus shot, a clean band-aid and the medical advice of keep the wound clean and dry. Um, yeah, uh, doc, have you seen the 7" of rain we've gotten the past 36 hours? Keeping it dry is pretty much a lost cause.
I am so ready for this day to be over with.
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Double standards
It's been a day of "hurry up and wait" around here, due to an indecisive family. I won't bore you with those details. But it's given me time to sit and reflect on things that have happened in my life, what could've been vs. how it is, what if's? and why not's?, and some thanking-my-lucky stars. When I first opened my mail this morning, among them was an email from an old boyfriend from my high-school days. Okay, admittedly, I sent him a message yesterday and he was just replying to me, but it was still good to know he was among the living. I know, many of you are probably gasping in mock-horror and thinking, "poor John". Rest easy, he knows I keep in touch with this particular person. In fact, the five of us (we, he, his fiancee at the time and daughter) all went to dinner a couple of years ago. We don't communicate very often, we just drop each other an email a couple of times a year. It's nice to know we've gotten to the point in our lives we can be friends, which brings me to the part where I've been reflecting today.Taking a moment to consider each guy I ever dated, and who I have/have not kept in touch with, and what would've been...First there was David. That was a brief romance, if you even want to call it that. I can only imagine that if he's not dead or in jail, then he probably belongs there. He was a scary one. I can only describe him as a young version of Rick whats-his-name from the group The Cars. The boy liked to juggle. Among the items he juggled for me once was a butcher knife, a meat cleaver, and another large knife. Seriously, how scary was it that he kept these items in his car? Yeah, I'm glad that one is way, way, WAY in my past.Then came Mike. That would be the one I got the email from. Junior year sweethearts. Lots of ideas on how he wanted his life to be, very idealistic, but perhaps not realistic. I think that relationship went sour when I started feeling ignored and when someone else started paying attention to me. It ended after 8 months, but more on that in a bit.Next was summer-love Dale. Okay, it could be argued that we were related, well, sort of, but not really. His uncle was married to my great-aunt. So I suppose you could say we were 2nd or 3rd cousins by marriage, or something like that. That too was short lived... long-distance romance just doesn't work when you're 17. Long distance was me living in Clark Co. Ind., he in Hardin Co. KY. That's long distance to a coupe of teenagers. After the break-up, it became awkward at family gatherings where we crossed paths. I guess that's why Jeff Foxworthy says you shouldn't go to a family reunion looking for a date. The last time I saw him was in 1990, after our uncle's funeral. Oh, I did see his picture in the paper several years later, standing with his dad. I don't remember what the article was about, but I cut it out. Heaven only knows why or where it's at now. But he was a country boy, and we all know how much I love the country. However, he was a bit too rowdy for my comfort. He was the one that got me started smoking... yes, I smoked for a brief period... but that's long behind me. He liked to drink too... thankfully I never picked up that habit. It's always amazed me he hasn't been killed in a drunk-driving accident. Or the very least, an auto accident due to wreckless driving, as he was wreckless. Yes, I'm glad that one's behind me too, else I may not be alive today.He was followed by Jimmy. Hmm, a lot of issues there. I really felt sorry for him, but that's not why we started dating. At the time I thought he was cute. He was really, really smart, but he had some anger-control issues. He broke his hand while we were dating, after putting it through the wall. I didn't find out how he'd broken it 'til several months after the fact. We dated for about 18 months before I'd had enough. That break-up was scary. I went to his parents house, it was late, everyone else had already gone to bed. He was giving me attitude over something and I finally told him we were through. I guess he must've seen it coming, because he pulled out his rifle (or shotgun, or whatever, it was a big gun that's all I know). But why else would he have had it so handy? Even though he was threatening to end his own life and not mine, it still brought about a terror I don't ever want to experience again. I ran for his parents bedroom, screaming for their help. His father was a policeman and came out and defused the situation. We spoke a couple of times briefly afterwards, and I did go to watch his graduation ceremony, but never again after that. I'm very thankful that one is behind me!!I didn't really date anyone much for a while after that. Mike re-surfaced, I don't remember exactly when or how he came back into my life, but he was in the Army now. When he was home on leave, we'd go out, just as friends. We wrote to one another, but I never thought of us as anything more than friends. I guess he thought otherwise.I had started dating John. We got engaged almost immediately. When I broke the news to Mike over the phone, he was less than pleasant, and called me a few choice names. That conversation ended, and we never spoke again 'til about six or seven years ago.Through one of those annoying websites, classmates.com I think, we re-connected. That was a scary moment, wondering if he'd be as hateful now as he was when we last spoke. He wasn't then, nor has he been since. We emailed quite a bit at first, catching up on our lives. But once the catch-up phase was over, we've settled down, like I said, to emailing couple of times a year.He has an 18 year old daughter, and is on wife #2. I met her when they were in the USA visiting family a couple of years ago. Yes, he lives in Europe now. Perhaps some of his ideals for his future weren't as unrealistic as I imagined back then.But John is "the one for me" and I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm just thankful that he's understanding and patient enough to allow me to have a long-distance friendship with an old beau, because if I ever catch him emailing or calling his old girlfriends, I'd have to kill him... figuratively speaking, because what's good for the goose isn't always good for the gander. ;)
A burning sensation
I've had this burning sensation, deep down in my ears. I think that means somebody has been talking about me.
Well okay, not really. I mean, I didn't have the burning sensation, but I did hear, via long distance call, that my name and Olivia's names have been brought up this week in Pennsylvania.
"The Nationals", a dog show held this year in Lancaster, PA, with some 700 Great Danes in attendance... that would be my idea of heaven!... is where our breeder is at this week.
The judging of the dogs doesn't go on each and every day, I think that actually starts on Thursday or Friday, but there are different things going on all week. Some obedience and agility trials (yes, some Danes actually are one, the other or even both of those things!), lectures, seminars, vendors showcases and what-not.
Apparently at some point yesterday, part of the day was spent talking about Dane-rescue groups and/or deaf-blind dogs. It was during this segment that our names came up. The lady that ran the Great Dane rescue in our area called me last night and said that our names came up due to my accomplishments with Olivia despite her impairments. Part of me was feeling quite proud, but another part of me was feeling quite ashamed because I've really slacked off in her training over the past year.
It was right about the time she got her C.G.C. last year that I hurt my back. And after I ended up in therapy 5 days a week, I either didn't have the time or I was in too much pain to spend working with her, so it all fell to the way side. Shame on me. Excuses, excuses!
I really would like to attempt using her as a therapy pet, but want to wait 'til she's at least 3 (in March), and hopefully she'll have settled down more by then... hopefully.
I suppose I should get off my arse and start attending the Delta Society meetings, just to get familiar with what I'd need to do and know what would be expected of her.
So next years Nationals is supposed to be in Owensboro KY... maybe next year I can attend for a day and be in Great Dane heaven.
Well okay, not really. I mean, I didn't have the burning sensation, but I did hear, via long distance call, that my name and Olivia's names have been brought up this week in Pennsylvania.
"The Nationals", a dog show held this year in Lancaster, PA, with some 700 Great Danes in attendance... that would be my idea of heaven!... is where our breeder is at this week.
The judging of the dogs doesn't go on each and every day, I think that actually starts on Thursday or Friday, but there are different things going on all week. Some obedience and agility trials (yes, some Danes actually are one, the other or even both of those things!), lectures, seminars, vendors showcases and what-not.
Apparently at some point yesterday, part of the day was spent talking about Dane-rescue groups and/or deaf-blind dogs. It was during this segment that our names came up. The lady that ran the Great Dane rescue in our area called me last night and said that our names came up due to my accomplishments with Olivia despite her impairments. Part of me was feeling quite proud, but another part of me was feeling quite ashamed because I've really slacked off in her training over the past year.
It was right about the time she got her C.G.C. last year that I hurt my back. And after I ended up in therapy 5 days a week, I either didn't have the time or I was in too much pain to spend working with her, so it all fell to the way side. Shame on me. Excuses, excuses!
I really would like to attempt using her as a therapy pet, but want to wait 'til she's at least 3 (in March), and hopefully she'll have settled down more by then... hopefully.
I suppose I should get off my arse and start attending the Delta Society meetings, just to get familiar with what I'd need to do and know what would be expected of her.
So next years Nationals is supposed to be in Owensboro KY... maybe next year I can attend for a day and be in Great Dane heaven.
Mother Nature
Rain rain go away, come again some other day.
I know our area is (was?) in desparate need of the rain, but enough is enough already. I actually feel guilty as I stand and watch the news and see the fires burning out of control in Malibu and the surrounding areas of San Diego, and the drought that persists in Georgia, and then I look outside and watch the pouring rain that has turned the ground into slop.
It never ceases to amaze me how Mother Nature plays these games. Honestly, can't the woman spread the rain out a little more over the entire year, instead of sending it to us all at once? And then you get areas like Houston that has been pounded over and over again of late with all the rain... you'd think M.N. would grow weary of torturing people so, and spread the wealth of water around to other parts of the country in need.
But no, she has a wicked sense of humor, much preferring to wreak havoc with our lives.
Well, at least I am thankful that all of this rain hasn't included thunder and lightening, nor has it had high winds. Thankfully, it's been coming straight down for the most part, and the lack of wind meant I didn't have a mess to clean up yesterday in the house.
I know our area is (was?) in desparate need of the rain, but enough is enough already. I actually feel guilty as I stand and watch the news and see the fires burning out of control in Malibu and the surrounding areas of San Diego, and the drought that persists in Georgia, and then I look outside and watch the pouring rain that has turned the ground into slop.
It never ceases to amaze me how Mother Nature plays these games. Honestly, can't the woman spread the rain out a little more over the entire year, instead of sending it to us all at once? And then you get areas like Houston that has been pounded over and over again of late with all the rain... you'd think M.N. would grow weary of torturing people so, and spread the wealth of water around to other parts of the country in need.
But no, she has a wicked sense of humor, much preferring to wreak havoc with our lives.
Well, at least I am thankful that all of this rain hasn't included thunder and lightening, nor has it had high winds. Thankfully, it's been coming straight down for the most part, and the lack of wind meant I didn't have a mess to clean up yesterday in the house.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Weather
I watched the news carefully this morning, well, to be more exact, I watched the weather reports. #1) I wanted to see how hot it would get, so I'd know whether or not to turn the a/c on or if it would remain cool enough to leave the windows open, and #2) to see when the rain was supposed to hit town so I'd know whether or not it was safe to leave the windows open or whether I should shut them.
The WHAS weather said there was only a 40% chance that the rain would arrive by 4pm, and that the showers would most definitely be here by this evening.
Hmm, my interpretation? As I'd arrive "home" by 5pm, and "home" this week is somewhat south and east of Louisville, I'd be safe leaving the windows open.
Needless to say, the rain started coming down in LaGrange around 1pm... gee, 3 hours earlier than it was predicted to possibly start. Grrrr!!!! Now I'm wondering how much of the interior of the house is getting wet, what's getting ruined, and how much of a mess will I have to clean up when I get home?
Darned weathermen!!
I suppose I could get lucky, and the rain will simply fall straight down. If so, things may be okay. But should any sort of wind, or even a breeze accompany the rain, then I'm going to have a mess to clean up for sure.
The WHAS weather said there was only a 40% chance that the rain would arrive by 4pm, and that the showers would most definitely be here by this evening.
Hmm, my interpretation? As I'd arrive "home" by 5pm, and "home" this week is somewhat south and east of Louisville, I'd be safe leaving the windows open.
Needless to say, the rain started coming down in LaGrange around 1pm... gee, 3 hours earlier than it was predicted to possibly start. Grrrr!!!! Now I'm wondering how much of the interior of the house is getting wet, what's getting ruined, and how much of a mess will I have to clean up when I get home?
Darned weathermen!!
I suppose I could get lucky, and the rain will simply fall straight down. If so, things may be okay. But should any sort of wind, or even a breeze accompany the rain, then I'm going to have a mess to clean up for sure.
movie critic
Why is it that whenever a movie critic (the kind that get paid and critique movies for a living that is) says a movie isn't any good, then 9 times out of 10, it's a movie I love? And if they praise a movie and start predicting Oscar nominations before it's even released, then it's one I think either stinks, or just flat-out have no interest in seeing??
This isn't just a differing of opinions. I realize not everybody agrees with me, 'though I haven't figured out why. ;) (in case you couldn't tell, that was a lame attempt at humor)
I watched a movie over the weekend, "The Stepford Wives", the 2004 comedic version. I loved it!! The critics though, hated it. Maybe I should go back and watch the original, better yet, read the book... my interest has been piqued.
I think I've mentioned in the past that I have a habit of watching the same movie(s) over and over and over again, usually I do this for "company". As I am living out in the boonies this week, staying at a house without cable or satellite t.v. and crappy reception on the 4 local channels, popping in a dvd is almost a necessity for some background noise to keep me company. "Fire Down Below" is one of the worst movies ever made. Not only is most of the acting really bad, but there are a lot of flubs as well. The story-line isn't that bad, just the movie itself, yet I keep finding myself watching/listening to it over and over again. Perhaps it's the comedic relief of Steven Segal (sp?) trying to act. Honestly, the man should give it up. I don't know how he's made a career out of acting, because he's so horrible at it!! And he's certainly never appealed to me in any other way either. Blech!
My husband and co-worker hate it when I sit there and pick apart a movie while watching it. I can't help but question every little thing, it's in my nature. They hate it #1)because they don't have an answer to my question (which I don't expect them to answer me as I'm usually just musing aloud), and #2) I take away from their enjoyment of "getting lost in the story line" by bringing them back to reality and pointing out little things that now have them going, "hmmm", and "huh?".
This isn't just a differing of opinions. I realize not everybody agrees with me, 'though I haven't figured out why. ;) (in case you couldn't tell, that was a lame attempt at humor)
I watched a movie over the weekend, "The Stepford Wives", the 2004 comedic version. I loved it!! The critics though, hated it. Maybe I should go back and watch the original, better yet, read the book... my interest has been piqued.
I think I've mentioned in the past that I have a habit of watching the same movie(s) over and over and over again, usually I do this for "company". As I am living out in the boonies this week, staying at a house without cable or satellite t.v. and crappy reception on the 4 local channels, popping in a dvd is almost a necessity for some background noise to keep me company. "Fire Down Below" is one of the worst movies ever made. Not only is most of the acting really bad, but there are a lot of flubs as well. The story-line isn't that bad, just the movie itself, yet I keep finding myself watching/listening to it over and over again. Perhaps it's the comedic relief of Steven Segal (sp?) trying to act. Honestly, the man should give it up. I don't know how he's made a career out of acting, because he's so horrible at it!! And he's certainly never appealed to me in any other way either. Blech!
My husband and co-worker hate it when I sit there and pick apart a movie while watching it. I can't help but question every little thing, it's in my nature. They hate it #1)because they don't have an answer to my question (which I don't expect them to answer me as I'm usually just musing aloud), and #2) I take away from their enjoyment of "getting lost in the story line" by bringing them back to reality and pointing out little things that now have them going, "hmmm", and "huh?".
Weekend in review
Wow, dare I hope that fall is finally here? What a beautiful weekend, and not just temperature-wise. I am, once again, temporarily living out in the sticks of Henry County, as I house/kennel-sit for my friend while she's at a dog show. As I made the drive up the interstate Saturday evening, it was like somebody had flipped a switch and suddenly the trees were bathed in color. I don't recall them looking like that when I had driven to work the previous day.
Another Saturday morning/afternoon was spent at the Luci Center. This place is quickly becoming my refuge from the real world. The clients aren't the only ones benefiting here. When I first started going there, aside from 3 or 4 horses that were easy to identify because of distinctive markings or size, I had thought, "It will take forever to learn all these horses names, and even longer (if ever) to identify them all on sight." But amazingly enough, I find myself learning them a lot faster than I'd imagined, if for no other reasons than because of little nuances in their behavior. It will still take several weeks (if not months), but I'll get there. The goats and the cats on the other hand...
The weather was divine this weekend. Even though it got up to 85 late yesterday afternoon, there was a strong breeze blowing which made it tolerable if out in the sun, and almost cool if in the shade. I opened every window and door in the house that had a screen, and it never got above 65 inside. I could live with that kind of weather 24/7.
For the most part, my "step-children" haven't been a problem, I say, "for the most part". Candy isn't being a fussy eater like the last time. And she's not fearful of me approaching as before, quite the contrary, she seems almost happy to see me. However, she is once again playing games by not wanting to come in when the other kids come in. I've given up trying to round her up though. I go on about my business and leave the gate and door open, knowing she'll come in when she's good and ready.
Candy & Sadie celebrated their 1 year birthday yesterday, so Happy Birthday to them.
On the negative side of everything, Bella & Candy are both in heat, and although Cory has been neutered, it didn't curb his desire, and I caught him humping Bella in the front yard. While I know nothing will come of their "frolic", I just find it disturbing to watch a father humping his daughter (or granddaughter if he should try the same thing with Candy), so I've had to separate him from those two.
My only other problem has been a yellow-lab that has appeared out of nowhere. I'm not sure where she's getting into the yard at, and hope that none of my charges decide to escape through the opening. While this dog is friendly enough, and gets along with most of the danes, it's not to say that all the danes get along with her. Sunday morning, I couldn't get the dogs to come in because of this p.i.t.a., so I confined the whippets inside, closing their doggy-door. I slipped a choker-leash over the dog, and drug it to their run. It gagged and choked the entire way. I put it in the run and slammed the gate shut. Once I'd finished letting the other dogs run and then eat, I let it loose and turned the water hose on it. So far, it hasn't come back, but I did see it this morning as I was leaving the property. It was across the street, coming out of the woods, with a German Shepard in tow. I hope I don't have to contend with both of them now. I will be looking up the number to the Henry Co. animal control, for what it's worth.
Another Saturday morning/afternoon was spent at the Luci Center. This place is quickly becoming my refuge from the real world. The clients aren't the only ones benefiting here. When I first started going there, aside from 3 or 4 horses that were easy to identify because of distinctive markings or size, I had thought, "It will take forever to learn all these horses names, and even longer (if ever) to identify them all on sight." But amazingly enough, I find myself learning them a lot faster than I'd imagined, if for no other reasons than because of little nuances in their behavior. It will still take several weeks (if not months), but I'll get there. The goats and the cats on the other hand...
The weather was divine this weekend. Even though it got up to 85 late yesterday afternoon, there was a strong breeze blowing which made it tolerable if out in the sun, and almost cool if in the shade. I opened every window and door in the house that had a screen, and it never got above 65 inside. I could live with that kind of weather 24/7.
For the most part, my "step-children" haven't been a problem, I say, "for the most part". Candy isn't being a fussy eater like the last time. And she's not fearful of me approaching as before, quite the contrary, she seems almost happy to see me. However, she is once again playing games by not wanting to come in when the other kids come in. I've given up trying to round her up though. I go on about my business and leave the gate and door open, knowing she'll come in when she's good and ready.
Candy & Sadie celebrated their 1 year birthday yesterday, so Happy Birthday to them.
On the negative side of everything, Bella & Candy are both in heat, and although Cory has been neutered, it didn't curb his desire, and I caught him humping Bella in the front yard. While I know nothing will come of their "frolic", I just find it disturbing to watch a father humping his daughter (or granddaughter if he should try the same thing with Candy), so I've had to separate him from those two.
My only other problem has been a yellow-lab that has appeared out of nowhere. I'm not sure where she's getting into the yard at, and hope that none of my charges decide to escape through the opening. While this dog is friendly enough, and gets along with most of the danes, it's not to say that all the danes get along with her. Sunday morning, I couldn't get the dogs to come in because of this p.i.t.a., so I confined the whippets inside, closing their doggy-door. I slipped a choker-leash over the dog, and drug it to their run. It gagged and choked the entire way. I put it in the run and slammed the gate shut. Once I'd finished letting the other dogs run and then eat, I let it loose and turned the water hose on it. So far, it hasn't come back, but I did see it this morning as I was leaving the property. It was across the street, coming out of the woods, with a German Shepard in tow. I hope I don't have to contend with both of them now. I will be looking up the number to the Henry Co. animal control, for what it's worth.
Friday, October 19, 2007
Now my husband's losing it
Last nights severe weather warnings seemed to have turned out to be much ado about nothing. Or at least, where I live.
I had been watching the USA channel, oblivious to the brewing, or supposedly brewing storms outside, until the husband called me (he was at his sister's, visiting his mother). He asked if I was watching the news, I told him "no". He then asked if neighbors M&J were home. I told him I thought J was, but not M. He then asks me, "where is M?"
"How am I supposed to know? It wasn't my turn to watch him." Honestly! What is my husband thinking?... that these people are supposed to check in with me before they go anywhere or do anything!?!?!
He then tells me to grab the three dogs and go to M&J's house and get in the basement.
Again I ask you, what is my husband thinking!?
He was wanting me to round-up all three dogs, not just average dogs, but 3 GIANT dogs, take them all out on a leash at once, show up on my neighbor's doorstep and tell them I was getting in their basement, along with their rambunctious dog, their cat, and their 5 month old baby.
Is he out of his freaking mind!?!?!??!
First of all, I don't care how good of friends these people are, I wouldn't just appear at their door with 375 pounds worth of dog and announce I was going to hide out in their basement.
Second of all, I have serious doubts that I could manage to get all three dogs across the street at one time... and I certainly wasn't going to take them over one at a time and leave them there for her to watch while I went back to fetch the others.
I pointed these things out to the husband, but still he insisted I go.
Finally I had to remind him that Olivia couldn't, or at least, wouldn't go down a staircase. He knows this. She utterly refused to go down the stairs at our condo while on vacation, and that was out in a well-lit area with solid steps. I can darn well guarantee you she wouldn't go down a set of slick basement steps, which is somewhat enclosed and can be scary. Once I reminded him of this fact and I pointed out I wouldn't go and leave her behind, he finally dropped the subject.
But just to be on the safe side, I threw down some dog blankets, covered it with a clean sheet, grabbed a pillow, my cell phone and a pair of shoes, and hunkered down in the recessed area outside our bedroom door. It's just about the exact center of the house. I could see both the tv in the bedroom and living room and just sat there, all three dogs huddled around me.
Once the cable finally went out and the tvs became useless to me, I finally gave up huddling after about 10 minutes. Let the storm take us away. But as far as I could tell, other than a slight amount of rain sometime between 10pm and 2:30 am, the wind never got severe, there was no hail, no heavy rain, nothing. Nadda.
Yeah, seemed to be much ado about nothing.
I had been watching the USA channel, oblivious to the brewing, or supposedly brewing storms outside, until the husband called me (he was at his sister's, visiting his mother). He asked if I was watching the news, I told him "no". He then asked if neighbors M&J were home. I told him I thought J was, but not M. He then asks me, "where is M?"
"How am I supposed to know? It wasn't my turn to watch him." Honestly! What is my husband thinking?... that these people are supposed to check in with me before they go anywhere or do anything!?!?!
He then tells me to grab the three dogs and go to M&J's house and get in the basement.
Again I ask you, what is my husband thinking!?
He was wanting me to round-up all three dogs, not just average dogs, but 3 GIANT dogs, take them all out on a leash at once, show up on my neighbor's doorstep and tell them I was getting in their basement, along with their rambunctious dog, their cat, and their 5 month old baby.
Is he out of his freaking mind!?!?!??!
First of all, I don't care how good of friends these people are, I wouldn't just appear at their door with 375 pounds worth of dog and announce I was going to hide out in their basement.
Second of all, I have serious doubts that I could manage to get all three dogs across the street at one time... and I certainly wasn't going to take them over one at a time and leave them there for her to watch while I went back to fetch the others.
I pointed these things out to the husband, but still he insisted I go.
Finally I had to remind him that Olivia couldn't, or at least, wouldn't go down a staircase. He knows this. She utterly refused to go down the stairs at our condo while on vacation, and that was out in a well-lit area with solid steps. I can darn well guarantee you she wouldn't go down a set of slick basement steps, which is somewhat enclosed and can be scary. Once I reminded him of this fact and I pointed out I wouldn't go and leave her behind, he finally dropped the subject.
But just to be on the safe side, I threw down some dog blankets, covered it with a clean sheet, grabbed a pillow, my cell phone and a pair of shoes, and hunkered down in the recessed area outside our bedroom door. It's just about the exact center of the house. I could see both the tv in the bedroom and living room and just sat there, all three dogs huddled around me.
Once the cable finally went out and the tvs became useless to me, I finally gave up huddling after about 10 minutes. Let the storm take us away. But as far as I could tell, other than a slight amount of rain sometime between 10pm and 2:30 am, the wind never got severe, there was no hail, no heavy rain, nothing. Nadda.
Yeah, seemed to be much ado about nothing.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Fried, fat and sassy
I did something last night that I haven't done in quite a long while... I cooked dinner.
I don't mean the kind where I take it out of a box, remove the cellophane and pop it into the oven or microwave, or open-a-can-and-heat-it-up kind of dinner. I mean I actually cooked, from scratch, and it was damned tasty if I do say so myself!
I love cooking. My friends that know me well, know just how much I love to cook. But for reasons I haven't quite figured out, lately I seem to have gotten away from doing much of it. Oh sure, I still throw some stuff in the crock pot quite a bit, but as far as actually cooking on top of the stove, I haven't done much of it lately.
The past several days, I've been craving fried chicken. I don't mean the crap you get at KFC, or the so-so stuff you can get from your grocer's deli, but real, home-made fried chicken. I can't even remember the last time I had home-made fried chicken. Normally I oven-fry my chicken, which is good, but it's not quite the same. Last night, I was bound and determined to satisfy my craving.
I fried my chicken, on top of the stove thank-you very much, made mashed potatoes, from scratch, not from a box, sweet corn, biscuits (okay, those were from a can), and even managed to make some half-way decent gravy too. I'm gravy-challenged... Perhaps 1 out of every 6 tries will it turn out edible.
By the time we were done eating, we were fat and sassy.
My husband always thanks me for dinner and tells me it's good (even if it's frozen pizza), but I could tell his compliment was genuine last night, as it was preceded by VERY, and was repeated more than once.
Perhaps it's time I got back in the kitchen and started cooking again.
I don't mean the kind where I take it out of a box, remove the cellophane and pop it into the oven or microwave, or open-a-can-and-heat-it-up kind of dinner. I mean I actually cooked, from scratch, and it was damned tasty if I do say so myself!
I love cooking. My friends that know me well, know just how much I love to cook. But for reasons I haven't quite figured out, lately I seem to have gotten away from doing much of it. Oh sure, I still throw some stuff in the crock pot quite a bit, but as far as actually cooking on top of the stove, I haven't done much of it lately.
The past several days, I've been craving fried chicken. I don't mean the crap you get at KFC, or the so-so stuff you can get from your grocer's deli, but real, home-made fried chicken. I can't even remember the last time I had home-made fried chicken. Normally I oven-fry my chicken, which is good, but it's not quite the same. Last night, I was bound and determined to satisfy my craving.
I fried my chicken, on top of the stove thank-you very much, made mashed potatoes, from scratch, not from a box, sweet corn, biscuits (okay, those were from a can), and even managed to make some half-way decent gravy too. I'm gravy-challenged... Perhaps 1 out of every 6 tries will it turn out edible.
By the time we were done eating, we were fat and sassy.
My husband always thanks me for dinner and tells me it's good (even if it's frozen pizza), but I could tell his compliment was genuine last night, as it was preceded by VERY, and was repeated more than once.
Perhaps it's time I got back in the kitchen and started cooking again.
#2 Unleaded
Get the lead out!
I'll have that unleaded please.
It would seem that every single time I turn on the news anymore, there is yet something new being recalled, and it may or may not be because of lead paint contaminants.
We're used to automobiles being recalled, especially Fords and GM models, that's just a given. We expect that.
And over the past few years, it seems food is being recalled more and more often, usually for ecoli or salmonella poisoning.
And then there has been the occasional toy that was recalled because of some choking hazard or some part that is defective.
But things seem to be getting totally out of control here lately, and the vast majority it would seem is because of lead paint, usually because of something imported from China.
In the past year +/-, we've had petfood recalled because of contaminated ingredients.
Countless toys, bibs, and now we're getting lipstick that contains lead.
Lead (led) can lead (leed) to birth defects, mental retardation, and a host of other ailments.
But I can't help but point out that unless the Chinese just started adding lead to their paint in the past year or so, then the lead has always been there, and we've been playing, handling, wearing &/or consuming it pretty much our whole lives. So wouldn't you think that we'd all be a lot sicker by now? Why the sudden panic over lead?
I expect to turn on the news one day very soon to find out that all #2 pencils have been recalled because they've discovered that lead pencils contain lead.
I'll have that unleaded please.
It would seem that every single time I turn on the news anymore, there is yet something new being recalled, and it may or may not be because of lead paint contaminants.
We're used to automobiles being recalled, especially Fords and GM models, that's just a given. We expect that.
And over the past few years, it seems food is being recalled more and more often, usually for ecoli or salmonella poisoning.
And then there has been the occasional toy that was recalled because of some choking hazard or some part that is defective.
But things seem to be getting totally out of control here lately, and the vast majority it would seem is because of lead paint, usually because of something imported from China.
In the past year +/-, we've had petfood recalled because of contaminated ingredients.
Countless toys, bibs, and now we're getting lipstick that contains lead.
Lead (led) can lead (leed) to birth defects, mental retardation, and a host of other ailments.
But I can't help but point out that unless the Chinese just started adding lead to their paint in the past year or so, then the lead has always been there, and we've been playing, handling, wearing &/or consuming it pretty much our whole lives. So wouldn't you think that we'd all be a lot sicker by now? Why the sudden panic over lead?
I expect to turn on the news one day very soon to find out that all #2 pencils have been recalled because they've discovered that lead pencils contain lead.
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
Ellen & Iggy
By now, I'm sure many of you have seen the video clip, or at least, heard the story of Ellen DeGeneres and Iggy the puppy.
Good grief, what a tear jerker! It brought tears to my eyes, every time I've seen it now.
While granted, she did violate the agreement that she had signed, stating that she'd return the dog to the shelter if for any reason she couldn't keep it, by that same token, she did find it a good home.
I mean, honestly folks, once the shelter found out that she no longer had the dog, would it have been so difficult for the Moms & Mutts (or whatever they call themselves) shelter to go, do a "home study" or something, and have Iggy's new family fill out the adoption papers. And if nothing else, have DeGeneres pay some kind of fine for violating their rules??
Isn't the fact that the dog had (emphasis on HAD) a good and loving home the most important thing here? And could once again, if the shelter would just ask the new family to re-adopt Iggy, wouldn't that solve the problem?? Everybody would be happy, case closed.
But no, the shelter is refusing to budge on their rule, so in the end, everyone suffers... the family that has lost their beloved mutt, the dog that's now living in a cage, the shelter is getting lots of negative publicity, and even Ellen is suffering from the guilt she's feeling for causing all this.
Granted, I do think that the message that was left the shelter's voice mail , supposedly by someone on Ellen's staff, was somewhat uncalled for. But if cooler heads could prevail, there's no reason everyone can't be happy in the end. But I'm afraid I don't see it ending that way.
Good grief, what a tear jerker! It brought tears to my eyes, every time I've seen it now.
While granted, she did violate the agreement that she had signed, stating that she'd return the dog to the shelter if for any reason she couldn't keep it, by that same token, she did find it a good home.
I mean, honestly folks, once the shelter found out that she no longer had the dog, would it have been so difficult for the Moms & Mutts (or whatever they call themselves) shelter to go, do a "home study" or something, and have Iggy's new family fill out the adoption papers. And if nothing else, have DeGeneres pay some kind of fine for violating their rules??
Isn't the fact that the dog had (emphasis on HAD) a good and loving home the most important thing here? And could once again, if the shelter would just ask the new family to re-adopt Iggy, wouldn't that solve the problem?? Everybody would be happy, case closed.
But no, the shelter is refusing to budge on their rule, so in the end, everyone suffers... the family that has lost their beloved mutt, the dog that's now living in a cage, the shelter is getting lots of negative publicity, and even Ellen is suffering from the guilt she's feeling for causing all this.
Granted, I do think that the message that was left the shelter's voice mail , supposedly by someone on Ellen's staff, was somewhat uncalled for. But if cooler heads could prevail, there's no reason everyone can't be happy in the end. But I'm afraid I don't see it ending that way.
Educational TV
It's no secret, I typically go to bed at 9:30.
It's also no secret, Law & Order SVU is one of my favorite tv shows... why else would I name two of my dogs after the main characters?? But since it (the current seasons show) comes on at 10pm, I've missed most of the shows these past couple of years, having to wait until they go into reruns before getting to view them.
So far this season, I've been fortunate that I've been able to catch each weeks episode, either because of vacation, or a sheer will to stay awake. Of course, I'm very weary the next day, as I am at this very moment wanting to go take a nap.
Many people argue that most of what's shown on television is garbage, filling our minds with a bunch of junk. Actually, I'm one of those people.
But I have to argue that last nights episode was actually quite educational. It dealt with a young girl that has Williams-Syndrome.
I'd never heard of this condition before, but was quite intrigued by her unique "gifts" and did some web-surfing today to learn more. It's quite fascinating. It now makes me wonder how many people I've probably come into contact with in my life that I didn't know had Williams-Syndrome, and no doubt I'll be taking a closer look at others in the future should I notice any of the attributes being displayed.
Okay, so who says non-educational tv can't be educational?
It's also no secret, Law & Order SVU is one of my favorite tv shows... why else would I name two of my dogs after the main characters?? But since it (the current seasons show) comes on at 10pm, I've missed most of the shows these past couple of years, having to wait until they go into reruns before getting to view them.
So far this season, I've been fortunate that I've been able to catch each weeks episode, either because of vacation, or a sheer will to stay awake. Of course, I'm very weary the next day, as I am at this very moment wanting to go take a nap.
Many people argue that most of what's shown on television is garbage, filling our minds with a bunch of junk. Actually, I'm one of those people.
But I have to argue that last nights episode was actually quite educational. It dealt with a young girl that has Williams-Syndrome.
I'd never heard of this condition before, but was quite intrigued by her unique "gifts" and did some web-surfing today to learn more. It's quite fascinating. It now makes me wonder how many people I've probably come into contact with in my life that I didn't know had Williams-Syndrome, and no doubt I'll be taking a closer look at others in the future should I notice any of the attributes being displayed.
Okay, so who says non-educational tv can't be educational?
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Knock, knock, knockin' on...
I'm knockin' on 40's door.
In less than four months, I'll be entering a new decade of my life. Eek! How did that happen??
But as old as I am, I can still remind the husband that's he's pushing ever closer to 50, ha ha ha!!! Senior citizens discounts will soon start to follow. : )
Seriously though... that's a major mile-stone kind of birthday. I've been giving some serious thought as to how I want to celebrate it. I haven't decided as yet, but I've been thinking about it.
Fancy restaurant with the lights down low, all dressed up? Yeah, right! That's not me.
Big party surrounded by all my friends & family? Nahh, I'm not much on big parties either, especially being the "guest of honor". I'd rather be the one throwing the party for someone else.
Should I do something totally out of character, like get a tattoo? Like hell!
Go bungee jumping? If I did, they may as well go on and plan my funeral the same day. If the cord didn't snap and the SPLAT kill me, then the heart attack I'd have would.
I would shave my head, but that will come a few weeks later.
I am tempted to borrow a page from my cousin and ask everyone do something "creative" for me. I'll have to give that one some more thought.
Time to get back to work as it beckons.
In less than four months, I'll be entering a new decade of my life. Eek! How did that happen??
But as old as I am, I can still remind the husband that's he's pushing ever closer to 50, ha ha ha!!! Senior citizens discounts will soon start to follow. : )
Seriously though... that's a major mile-stone kind of birthday. I've been giving some serious thought as to how I want to celebrate it. I haven't decided as yet, but I've been thinking about it.
Fancy restaurant with the lights down low, all dressed up? Yeah, right! That's not me.
Big party surrounded by all my friends & family? Nahh, I'm not much on big parties either, especially being the "guest of honor". I'd rather be the one throwing the party for someone else.
Should I do something totally out of character, like get a tattoo? Like hell!
Go bungee jumping? If I did, they may as well go on and plan my funeral the same day. If the cord didn't snap and the SPLAT kill me, then the heart attack I'd have would.
I would shave my head, but that will come a few weeks later.
I am tempted to borrow a page from my cousin and ask everyone do something "creative" for me. I'll have to give that one some more thought.
Time to get back to work as it beckons.
My quirky child
I'm getting ready to blog about, what else?... my favorite subject... Great Danes. Well, okay, a specific one of my favorite subjects. That of course being Olivia.
Two random and quirky things she's done in the past few days, #1) showed great fear of me for reasons I'll never figure out and #2)the little brat can hear (certain things) more than we give her credit for.
#1-When I returned home from the Luci Ctr. on Saturday afternoon, I entered the house just like I've done thousands of times before. I wasn't screaming, wasn't mad or upset over anything, I wasn't waving my arms. Yes, I smelled like horses, but this isn't the first time I've entered smelling like this in the past few weeks. Other than being extremely inquisitive over the new smell on me, the dogs, up until now, have had no other different reactions upon returning from farm visits. As I entered the other day, I let B&E out back to run/play, and let Olivia out of her crate.
She immediately acted like she was afraid of me and slunk out of the crate where she began dribbling pee on the carpet. I sighed, but didn't raise a fuss, what would be the point? I backed away to get a small towel to throw over the small spot and soak it up and mark the area so I could come back and clean after she'd been outside, and as I backed away, she went and stood by the front door, again kind of cowering down. Crazy dog! As I approached, again, in a non-threatening way, she crouched a bit and tinkled some more. What was going on????? I could see she was obviously afraid of me, but had no idea why. I stepped back, into the living room, and she ducked into the kitchen. I fetched her leash and went into the kitchen. She let me approach and put it on her, but again, cowered down and peed. Argh!!! Again, I sighed, and just led her out of the house, hoping she didn't step in her puddles and track them around.
Once outside, she emptied what little was left in her bladder. I walked her over to the side yard and she just stood there, shaking. I approached her slowly, with my hand held out, and she just quivered. I've never seen her (or any of my danes for that matter) react in such a manner towards me. For the life of me I don't know what brought all this on. She shook all over as I started petting her, her legs trembling so hard I feared she'd start a small earthquake. I knelt in front of her, petting her, and she finally began to calm down. I finally just laid down in the grass and she laid down next to me, rolling over into a submissive gesture. I loved on her for a bit and she finally seemed to snap out of it, jumped up and wanted to play.
I don't know what brought all this on, and I hope I never see that reaction again. I'd hate to think my fur-babies feel they have a need to fear me, especially when there is no reason.
#2-I don't think I've ever claimed Olivia to be 100% deaf. 99% maybe, but not 100%. I say 99% because I know there is a certain pitch in the whimpers of small puppies that she can hear. I know this because I've seen her react to it on more than one occasion, whether in person or on t.v.
Last night, I was sitting in our swing which is in our side-yard, and Olivia was lying at my feet. The front door was open, but it is somewhat recessed, and from where we sat, you couldn't see the door. I saw a family out walking, headed in our general direction. Olivia showed no signs of seeing or hearing them. She just continued to look out into space. But suddenly, B&E who were both in the house, came running down the hall when they heard the walkers approaching, and started barking their heads off. I was watching Olivia and at the very moment they started barking furiously, her ears perked up and she turned her head towards the house.
Now tell me she didn't hear them barking!
There have been numerous times when we were in the house that one or both of the other dogs would start barking, and suddenly she would too, but I always attributed her reaction as due to her "feeling" them bark more than perhaps hearing them. When I say "feel" them bark, what I mean is, our house is so small, and when one or more of the dogs starts barking, even I can feel the vibrations in the air, or through whatever I'm touching at the moment, so I just assumed she felt it too, and granted, she probably does.
But we were outside, in the open air, somewhat around the corner from the front door. No, I think I'll argue that she heard them barking.
Granted, she still doesn't have the greatest hearing in the canine world, but she hears more than we give her credit for.
Two random and quirky things she's done in the past few days, #1) showed great fear of me for reasons I'll never figure out and #2)the little brat can hear (certain things) more than we give her credit for.
#1-When I returned home from the Luci Ctr. on Saturday afternoon, I entered the house just like I've done thousands of times before. I wasn't screaming, wasn't mad or upset over anything, I wasn't waving my arms. Yes, I smelled like horses, but this isn't the first time I've entered smelling like this in the past few weeks. Other than being extremely inquisitive over the new smell on me, the dogs, up until now, have had no other different reactions upon returning from farm visits. As I entered the other day, I let B&E out back to run/play, and let Olivia out of her crate.
She immediately acted like she was afraid of me and slunk out of the crate where she began dribbling pee on the carpet. I sighed, but didn't raise a fuss, what would be the point? I backed away to get a small towel to throw over the small spot and soak it up and mark the area so I could come back and clean after she'd been outside, and as I backed away, she went and stood by the front door, again kind of cowering down. Crazy dog! As I approached, again, in a non-threatening way, she crouched a bit and tinkled some more. What was going on????? I could see she was obviously afraid of me, but had no idea why. I stepped back, into the living room, and she ducked into the kitchen. I fetched her leash and went into the kitchen. She let me approach and put it on her, but again, cowered down and peed. Argh!!! Again, I sighed, and just led her out of the house, hoping she didn't step in her puddles and track them around.
Once outside, she emptied what little was left in her bladder. I walked her over to the side yard and she just stood there, shaking. I approached her slowly, with my hand held out, and she just quivered. I've never seen her (or any of my danes for that matter) react in such a manner towards me. For the life of me I don't know what brought all this on. She shook all over as I started petting her, her legs trembling so hard I feared she'd start a small earthquake. I knelt in front of her, petting her, and she finally began to calm down. I finally just laid down in the grass and she laid down next to me, rolling over into a submissive gesture. I loved on her for a bit and she finally seemed to snap out of it, jumped up and wanted to play.
I don't know what brought all this on, and I hope I never see that reaction again. I'd hate to think my fur-babies feel they have a need to fear me, especially when there is no reason.
#2-I don't think I've ever claimed Olivia to be 100% deaf. 99% maybe, but not 100%. I say 99% because I know there is a certain pitch in the whimpers of small puppies that she can hear. I know this because I've seen her react to it on more than one occasion, whether in person or on t.v.
Last night, I was sitting in our swing which is in our side-yard, and Olivia was lying at my feet. The front door was open, but it is somewhat recessed, and from where we sat, you couldn't see the door. I saw a family out walking, headed in our general direction. Olivia showed no signs of seeing or hearing them. She just continued to look out into space. But suddenly, B&E who were both in the house, came running down the hall when they heard the walkers approaching, and started barking their heads off. I was watching Olivia and at the very moment they started barking furiously, her ears perked up and she turned her head towards the house.
Now tell me she didn't hear them barking!
There have been numerous times when we were in the house that one or both of the other dogs would start barking, and suddenly she would too, but I always attributed her reaction as due to her "feeling" them bark more than perhaps hearing them. When I say "feel" them bark, what I mean is, our house is so small, and when one or more of the dogs starts barking, even I can feel the vibrations in the air, or through whatever I'm touching at the moment, so I just assumed she felt it too, and granted, she probably does.
But we were outside, in the open air, somewhat around the corner from the front door. No, I think I'll argue that she heard them barking.
Granted, she still doesn't have the greatest hearing in the canine world, but she hears more than we give her credit for.
This little piggy...
Okay, here's a little known fact about me... I've always wanted a pet pig.
Even though I've never been around pigs and really don't know diddly-squat about them, I've wanted one for years. I blame Charlotte's Web. I think after reading the book as a child, I became convinced that a pet pig would be as wonderful as Wilbur was.
The only drawback thus far has been living in subdivisions for all but two of the past 33 years of my life. If I were to have a pig, much like having a horse, I'd like to have some elbow room between me and my neighbors. And also, animals deemed to be "livestock" or "farm animals" are against the deed of restriction in our neighborhood. I say, define livestock.
I don't know as I really wanted one as a house pet, I just know I wanted one.
So imagine my surprise this morning when GMA did a news story on a new breed of miniature pigs. How adorable!!
Here's the article on the cute little porkers...
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/devon/7044897.stm
ps, I've always wanted a goat too.
Even though I've never been around pigs and really don't know diddly-squat about them, I've wanted one for years. I blame Charlotte's Web. I think after reading the book as a child, I became convinced that a pet pig would be as wonderful as Wilbur was.
The only drawback thus far has been living in subdivisions for all but two of the past 33 years of my life. If I were to have a pig, much like having a horse, I'd like to have some elbow room between me and my neighbors. And also, animals deemed to be "livestock" or "farm animals" are against the deed of restriction in our neighborhood. I say, define livestock.
I don't know as I really wanted one as a house pet, I just know I wanted one.
So imagine my surprise this morning when GMA did a news story on a new breed of miniature pigs. How adorable!!
Here's the article on the cute little porkers...
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/devon/7044897.stm
ps, I've always wanted a goat too.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Saturday
Saturday was a busy morning for me.
I had two doctors to visit before going to the Luci Ctr. I had called my allergist office earlier in the week to find out what time the shot-room opened on Saturday so I could get there first thing. The girl told me 8am. I repeated it back to her and she confirmed it. I thought to myself, "Perfect. My eye appointment is 9am, so that way I won't be rushed."
I arrived at the allergy office at 8am on the dot. They were closed.
The sign on the door said they opened at 8:30. I was ready to wring the neck of the girl I'd spoken to earlier in the week. While they did arrive at 8:15 and let me in, I was still forced to sit and wait 'til 8:30. GRRRR! Now I was going to be rushed However, I didn't wait the obligatory 30 minutes after getting my shot, and rushed out the door.
Now my stomach was starting to get upset. I hate that feeling.
I managed to arrive at the eye-doctor on time. When asked how my eyes were doing since last year, I informed the doctor and optician that I thought I was going blind, or at least, getting old and my vision declining. I was seeing "halos" around lights when I drive at night, I could barely see things 8 feet away on the wall with my left eye, and not at all with my right. And then there was the mysterious "blister-thingy" that appeared on my eye the morning we were leaving for vacation. It lasted for a couple of hours, but finally cleared up on it's own and hasn't happened since.
The doctor said the "blister-thingy" was most likely from some kind of an allergic reaction. If it happens again, take Benadryl.
Okay, you're not going to believe this next part, because I certainly couldn't.
My peripheral vision test was perfect, and after the rest of the exam was completed, the doctor declared that once again, for the umpteenth year in a row now, my eyes have gotten better. Maybe only by a slight degree, but they are still improved over last year. I couldn't believe it!!
Seriously, this makes probably the 5th or 6th year in a row my vision has improved.... which isn't saying much, because it's nowhere near being perfect. All I can say is: it must've been really poor when I was younger!
She gave me a pair of disposable lenses in my new prescription to wear until my new ones come in next week. I've gotta say, I'm seeing just fine with them. I guess my old ones were just really worn out and perhaps had too much build-up on them and were causing me so many problems.
I didn't get away from there as quickly as I'd hoped, because it had been 3 or 4 years since I'd last had my eyes dilated, she guilted me into it. She put the drops in my eyes and made me wait 15 minutes. Then sent me on my way with a pair of stylin' cheap sunglasses. I took them out of the package and the leg fell off before I could even try to put them on. I gave up and walked to my car with my good eye squeezed shut, and my bad eye squinting against the bright sun. I felt like a blind person feeling my way towards my car.
Now I had the long drive ahead of me to Shelbyville. Did I really need to be driving? Probably not, but I was committed to being there, so I ventured on. I kept my sunglasses on as much as possible and hoped that nobody saw my dilated pupils and thought I was stoned.
This was the first time I got to work with a client. I was an outside sidewalker for a Downs client... I couldn't understand much of what she was saying, so I just smiled a lot when she spoke. I suppose I'll learn her language given time, if I consistently work with her. From time to time as she sat on Pongo the leopard Appaloosa (for picture, click on this link: http://www.thelucicenter.org/horses/pongo.html ), she'd reach out and pat me on the arm or shoulder, and occasionally say "Mom". That I did understand, and I hoped she wasn't confusing me with her mother. Perhaps I just reminded her of her mother.
It doesn't take long for one's arm/shoulder to start aching as it stays up in the air, lying across the client's thigh and holding onto the edge of the saddle blanket. My arm & shoulder were sore enough and I was walking next to a pony, or at least, not a very tall horse. I felt sorry for those people that are considerably shorter than me and were walking next to a tall horse.
So what is the difference between a horse and a pony? Is it just their size???
It was a beautiful day to be outdoors, and I had a good time. I can't wait to go back.
I had two doctors to visit before going to the Luci Ctr. I had called my allergist office earlier in the week to find out what time the shot-room opened on Saturday so I could get there first thing. The girl told me 8am. I repeated it back to her and she confirmed it. I thought to myself, "Perfect. My eye appointment is 9am, so that way I won't be rushed."
I arrived at the allergy office at 8am on the dot. They were closed.
The sign on the door said they opened at 8:30. I was ready to wring the neck of the girl I'd spoken to earlier in the week. While they did arrive at 8:15 and let me in, I was still forced to sit and wait 'til 8:30. GRRRR! Now I was going to be rushed However, I didn't wait the obligatory 30 minutes after getting my shot, and rushed out the door.
Now my stomach was starting to get upset. I hate that feeling.
I managed to arrive at the eye-doctor on time. When asked how my eyes were doing since last year, I informed the doctor and optician that I thought I was going blind, or at least, getting old and my vision declining. I was seeing "halos" around lights when I drive at night, I could barely see things 8 feet away on the wall with my left eye, and not at all with my right. And then there was the mysterious "blister-thingy" that appeared on my eye the morning we were leaving for vacation. It lasted for a couple of hours, but finally cleared up on it's own and hasn't happened since.
The doctor said the "blister-thingy" was most likely from some kind of an allergic reaction. If it happens again, take Benadryl.
Okay, you're not going to believe this next part, because I certainly couldn't.
My peripheral vision test was perfect, and after the rest of the exam was completed, the doctor declared that once again, for the umpteenth year in a row now, my eyes have gotten better. Maybe only by a slight degree, but they are still improved over last year. I couldn't believe it!!
Seriously, this makes probably the 5th or 6th year in a row my vision has improved.... which isn't saying much, because it's nowhere near being perfect. All I can say is: it must've been really poor when I was younger!
She gave me a pair of disposable lenses in my new prescription to wear until my new ones come in next week. I've gotta say, I'm seeing just fine with them. I guess my old ones were just really worn out and perhaps had too much build-up on them and were causing me so many problems.
I didn't get away from there as quickly as I'd hoped, because it had been 3 or 4 years since I'd last had my eyes dilated, she guilted me into it. She put the drops in my eyes and made me wait 15 minutes. Then sent me on my way with a pair of stylin' cheap sunglasses. I took them out of the package and the leg fell off before I could even try to put them on. I gave up and walked to my car with my good eye squeezed shut, and my bad eye squinting against the bright sun. I felt like a blind person feeling my way towards my car.
Now I had the long drive ahead of me to Shelbyville. Did I really need to be driving? Probably not, but I was committed to being there, so I ventured on. I kept my sunglasses on as much as possible and hoped that nobody saw my dilated pupils and thought I was stoned.
This was the first time I got to work with a client. I was an outside sidewalker for a Downs client... I couldn't understand much of what she was saying, so I just smiled a lot when she spoke. I suppose I'll learn her language given time, if I consistently work with her. From time to time as she sat on Pongo the leopard Appaloosa (for picture, click on this link: http://www.thelucicenter.org/horses/pongo.html ), she'd reach out and pat me on the arm or shoulder, and occasionally say "Mom". That I did understand, and I hoped she wasn't confusing me with her mother. Perhaps I just reminded her of her mother.
It doesn't take long for one's arm/shoulder to start aching as it stays up in the air, lying across the client's thigh and holding onto the edge of the saddle blanket. My arm & shoulder were sore enough and I was walking next to a pony, or at least, not a very tall horse. I felt sorry for those people that are considerably shorter than me and were walking next to a tall horse.
So what is the difference between a horse and a pony? Is it just their size???
It was a beautiful day to be outdoors, and I had a good time. I can't wait to go back.
Pumpkin Patch-work
While sitting and waiting (another story for another blog) at the dox office Saturday, I was thumbing through a magazine that had some really cute craft ideas and I was inspired by something I saw.
So Sunday morning, I headed to Michaels to get tissue paper, Modge-Podge or whatever it's called and some other supplies, then on to Walmart to get the pumpkins. In looking back, I suppose I could've gotten all the supplies at Walmart and saved myself a trip, but oh well, I was killing time waiting for some film to be developed.
I spent Sunday afternoon, nursing a b!tch of a headache, the closest thing to a migraine that I've ever had and hope never to have again, and decorating my pumpkin. So now, I give to you, my patchwork pumpkins... 
Friday, October 12, 2007
say CHEESE!
Can you say CHEESE!?!?!!
I made a discovery last week while on vacation. Among the few items I'd packed in the cooler to take on our trip, was a small amount of Hot Pepper Cheese. It's our favorite, and it upsets me so whenever the deli is out of it, or when the boneheads mess up and give me pepper-jack or try to push the fire-jack on me instead. No, I want regular ol' Hot Pepper Cheese.
It has a much creamier taste and texture to it than the pepper-jack.
Anyway...
Midweek of our trip, we ran out. While out driving around one afternoon, we stumbled upon one of many Walmarts we'd find that week. I went to the deli, but saw no hot pepper cheese. I asked the clerk. No, they didn't carry it. Eek!, now what would I do? I felt the d.t.'s setting in at the thought of having to wait 'til we returned to Louisville to purchase more of my beloved cheese.
The clerk offered up a suggestion of their Chipotle Pepper Cheese. Hmm, interesting. I requested a sample. Ooh, it was a bit warmer than what I was used to eating, yet, it had a delightful flavor to it. At first I declined, claiming it would be too hot for my husband to eat... as really spicy things upset his stomach, and I walked away, dejected.
I made my rounds in the store, but the longer that wonderful cheesy flavor sat on my taste-buds, the more I was craving it. I eventually made my way back to the deli, and decided "what the heck?", just because the husband might not be able to eat it, doesn't mean I should be deprived. I ordered a 1/2 pound. The husband loved it!
As we were heading home late Saturday morning, I located yet another Walmart and stopped, making my way to it's deli, where I ordered 2 pounds of the stuff to take home with us.
I gave a few slices to our friends/neighbors, and I think I may have them hooked on it also. They will soon be going to Illinois to visit her grandfather, and I'm hoping the Walmart near his home carries my new favorite cheese.
As soon as I get the package emptied, I'm going to take it to my local Walmart and beg the deli manager to start stocking it. 'Cause it's GUH-OOOOOOD!
I made a discovery last week while on vacation. Among the few items I'd packed in the cooler to take on our trip, was a small amount of Hot Pepper Cheese. It's our favorite, and it upsets me so whenever the deli is out of it, or when the boneheads mess up and give me pepper-jack or try to push the fire-jack on me instead. No, I want regular ol' Hot Pepper Cheese.
It has a much creamier taste and texture to it than the pepper-jack.
Anyway...
Midweek of our trip, we ran out. While out driving around one afternoon, we stumbled upon one of many Walmarts we'd find that week. I went to the deli, but saw no hot pepper cheese. I asked the clerk. No, they didn't carry it. Eek!, now what would I do? I felt the d.t.'s setting in at the thought of having to wait 'til we returned to Louisville to purchase more of my beloved cheese.
The clerk offered up a suggestion of their Chipotle Pepper Cheese. Hmm, interesting. I requested a sample. Ooh, it was a bit warmer than what I was used to eating, yet, it had a delightful flavor to it. At first I declined, claiming it would be too hot for my husband to eat... as really spicy things upset his stomach, and I walked away, dejected.
I made my rounds in the store, but the longer that wonderful cheesy flavor sat on my taste-buds, the more I was craving it. I eventually made my way back to the deli, and decided "what the heck?", just because the husband might not be able to eat it, doesn't mean I should be deprived. I ordered a 1/2 pound. The husband loved it!
As we were heading home late Saturday morning, I located yet another Walmart and stopped, making my way to it's deli, where I ordered 2 pounds of the stuff to take home with us.
I gave a few slices to our friends/neighbors, and I think I may have them hooked on it also. They will soon be going to Illinois to visit her grandfather, and I'm hoping the Walmart near his home carries my new favorite cheese.
As soon as I get the package emptied, I'm going to take it to my local Walmart and beg the deli manager to start stocking it. 'Cause it's GUH-OOOOOOD!
On My Soapbox!
Okay, I'm getting up on my soapbox once again. I know I've been on it many times before, harping on this subject, but here I go again.
Life Insurance.
Why? Because I see so many families that are misguided by what they have, and what they THINK they have. So let me go over it yet again.
If you have life insurance on yourself, for heavens sake, please, PLEASE, PLEASE! check (at least every couple of years) to see who you have listed as your beneficiary.
*Many couples divorce and re-marry and forget to change their beneficiary to their new spouse. Of course it's possible you may want your ex to get the proceeds from your insurance, but odds are, you'd rather your current spouse, or perhaps your children to get those funds.
*And then there is the possibility that whoever you had listed as your beneficiary may have predeceased you, and maybe you didn't list a contingent beneficiary. If your beneficiary predeceases you, then your family has to go to the hassle of trying to track down a death certificate to prove that the other person has also died, and even then, that's not always the end of the battle.
*Don't assume that because you have auto insurance, that you automatically have life insurance. On more than one occasion I've seen families pass through here that have lost a loved one due to an auto accident, and for reasons I'll never understand, they think that the auto insurance pays a (hefty) death benefit, when they don't. And then when the auto insurance doesn't pay but a pittance, if anything, they're suddenly left trying to come up with the money to pay the funeral bill and whatever other bills they've incurred, and they're also left scratching their heads wondering how they were so misguided.
*If there are minor children involved and you're divorced, don't assume that because you designate, for example, your parent or an adult-aged sibling as the beneficiary, that they'll automatically get the funds. Some insurance companies &/or states are tricky, and the money may end up going to the minor children regardless of who your beneficiary is.
*And don't just check the beneficiary on insurance policies. Also if you have an IRA or 401k account, these have beneficiary designations also. Keep those up to date as well.
Okay, I'm getting off my soapbox now.
Life Insurance.
Why? Because I see so many families that are misguided by what they have, and what they THINK they have. So let me go over it yet again.
If you have life insurance on yourself, for heavens sake, please, PLEASE, PLEASE! check (at least every couple of years) to see who you have listed as your beneficiary.
*Many couples divorce and re-marry and forget to change their beneficiary to their new spouse. Of course it's possible you may want your ex to get the proceeds from your insurance, but odds are, you'd rather your current spouse, or perhaps your children to get those funds.
*And then there is the possibility that whoever you had listed as your beneficiary may have predeceased you, and maybe you didn't list a contingent beneficiary. If your beneficiary predeceases you, then your family has to go to the hassle of trying to track down a death certificate to prove that the other person has also died, and even then, that's not always the end of the battle.
*Don't assume that because you have auto insurance, that you automatically have life insurance. On more than one occasion I've seen families pass through here that have lost a loved one due to an auto accident, and for reasons I'll never understand, they think that the auto insurance pays a (hefty) death benefit, when they don't. And then when the auto insurance doesn't pay but a pittance, if anything, they're suddenly left trying to come up with the money to pay the funeral bill and whatever other bills they've incurred, and they're also left scratching their heads wondering how they were so misguided.
*If there are minor children involved and you're divorced, don't assume that because you designate, for example, your parent or an adult-aged sibling as the beneficiary, that they'll automatically get the funds. Some insurance companies &/or states are tricky, and the money may end up going to the minor children regardless of who your beneficiary is.
*And don't just check the beneficiary on insurance policies. Also if you have an IRA or 401k account, these have beneficiary designations also. Keep those up to date as well.
Okay, I'm getting off my soapbox now.
More change
One of my fellow bloggers made mention in one of her recent blogs about the paint job that was being done on a building at the corner of 1st & Main in downtown LaGrange. I agree with her, it looks very nice. A day or so later, I noticed that the building on the opposite corner, the 1887 store and the other businesses that encompass that building, have also been getting a face lift. The wood trim around the doorways have gotten a new stain applied, and it looks very nice.
I also noticed this week, some men doing some work to the DeHaven church, which made me wonder if most (if not all?) off the businesses along Main Street were getting a face lift???
So as I sat on 2nd Street, in front of the firehouse and I waited for the seemingly ever-present train to pass, I had this view of the DeHaven steeple. I couldn't help but notice how much it resembles a large pencil.
Change
Change is good.
As the weather has suddenly turned quite chilly this week, dropping a whole 30 some degrees in less than 48 hours (I'm not complaining mind you!), it's finally signaled the change of seasons.
The plants/trees are suddenly changing colors, losing their leaves, or dying off altogether.
Last night, I changed out many of my warm-weather clothes for some of my heavier-weight clothes in the spare closet. I did a lot of ironing, lip pursing as I surveyed my wordrobe. I have such awful taste in clothing, but then, considering most of what is available in the stores, in my size, is it any wonder?
Anyway, since all these changes are coming about this week, I decided to give my blog site a bit of a change. Not only the background colors and lay-out, but the name of it also. Don't worry, it still has the same address... http://pitawoman.blogspot.com/ but then you already know that, since you're here.
But I've changed the name of the blog to: Rat Sass
When I was growing up, a friend/neighbor dubbed me with the nickname "Sassafrass", because I was always so sassy. And since sometimes I do care, and yet at other times, I really don't, I thought rat's ass, er, I mean, Rat Sass would be a good title.
Example: A loud, abrasive woman called the office today to ask when so-and-so's funeral was being held. I gave her the information. A thank you, you're welcome, and mutual good-byes should've ended our conversation. But no, this woman had to proceed to tell me how she new the deceased young man... her ex-husband used to be married to the youth's grandmother. Like I really give a rat sass??????
On the other hand, this boy's family has had it's share of deaths in the past 5 years, and he died rather tragically, leaving behind a small son. In this case, I do care. It's very sad. What I find sadder is that this family didn't ask for memorial contributions to go to some worthy charity, for example: M.A.D.D. or S.A.D.D.
As the weather has suddenly turned quite chilly this week, dropping a whole 30 some degrees in less than 48 hours (I'm not complaining mind you!), it's finally signaled the change of seasons.
The plants/trees are suddenly changing colors, losing their leaves, or dying off altogether.
Last night, I changed out many of my warm-weather clothes for some of my heavier-weight clothes in the spare closet. I did a lot of ironing, lip pursing as I surveyed my wordrobe. I have such awful taste in clothing, but then, considering most of what is available in the stores, in my size, is it any wonder?
Anyway, since all these changes are coming about this week, I decided to give my blog site a bit of a change. Not only the background colors and lay-out, but the name of it also. Don't worry, it still has the same address... http://pitawoman.blogspot.com/ but then you already know that, since you're here.
But I've changed the name of the blog to: Rat Sass
When I was growing up, a friend/neighbor dubbed me with the nickname "Sassafrass", because I was always so sassy. And since sometimes I do care, and yet at other times, I really don't, I thought rat's ass, er, I mean, Rat Sass would be a good title.
Example: A loud, abrasive woman called the office today to ask when so-and-so's funeral was being held. I gave her the information. A thank you, you're welcome, and mutual good-byes should've ended our conversation. But no, this woman had to proceed to tell me how she new the deceased young man... her ex-husband used to be married to the youth's grandmother. Like I really give a rat sass??????
On the other hand, this boy's family has had it's share of deaths in the past 5 years, and he died rather tragically, leaving behind a small son. In this case, I do care. It's very sad. What I find sadder is that this family didn't ask for memorial contributions to go to some worthy charity, for example: M.A.D.D. or S.A.D.D.
Thursday, October 11, 2007
Hair
My hair is driving me crazy!
I almost feel guilty blogging about this. I have a friend who recently blogged about her hairpiece and losing the needle that she uses to sew it into place, and here I am complaining because my hair is so darned thick, I can't manage it. Life is somewhat cruel and unfair. If I could thin out my locks and give them to her, I'd do so, just to balance us both out.
But life doesn't quite work that way.
I normally wear my hair very, very short. When I would get it cut, I'd use a #7 on the shears, which meant the hair was trimmed down to a length of 7/8". I did this about every 6-8 weeks. Whenever it started getting long enough to require a brush or more than 30 seconds to style in the mornings, then it was time for a shave, so to speak.
But, as many of you know, I've been letting my hair grow out these past few months, as I'm planning on participating in the St. Baldricks fundraiser in March, which raises money for childhood cancer research. I wanted it to be as long as possible, so it would be a big difference for me. Also, if the hair is long enough, I hope to donate it to Locks of Love. Two worthy causes in one shot... assuming I don't go insane and pull it all out before then.
As scraggly as it looks right now, for reasons I can't fathom, I've been getting lots of compliments on it. Honestly, I think it looks perfectly awful. It's too short to pull into a ponytail, so I keep it pulled back with either a headband or a barrette. I've tried styling it so that I don't have to pull it back, but because it's soooo thick and heavy (and at only 5 or 6" long), it just weighs down and sags, and then hangs in my face, blinding me. Literally. Seriously. A lock of hair actually flopped around and poked me in the eye the other day, hurting enough to make me cry out. It took several minutes for my eye to stop watering and return to normal.
March won't get here soon enough for me.
While I'm on the subject of hair, what's up with the gray ones?
I thought once gray came in, that was it? I've come across several strands of hair that are brown at the tip, then about an inch of it is gray, then it turns back to brown. Or vice-versa. I have got striped hair. What's up with that??
I almost feel guilty blogging about this. I have a friend who recently blogged about her hairpiece and losing the needle that she uses to sew it into place, and here I am complaining because my hair is so darned thick, I can't manage it. Life is somewhat cruel and unfair. If I could thin out my locks and give them to her, I'd do so, just to balance us both out.
But life doesn't quite work that way.
I normally wear my hair very, very short. When I would get it cut, I'd use a #7 on the shears, which meant the hair was trimmed down to a length of 7/8". I did this about every 6-8 weeks. Whenever it started getting long enough to require a brush or more than 30 seconds to style in the mornings, then it was time for a shave, so to speak.
But, as many of you know, I've been letting my hair grow out these past few months, as I'm planning on participating in the St. Baldricks fundraiser in March, which raises money for childhood cancer research. I wanted it to be as long as possible, so it would be a big difference for me. Also, if the hair is long enough, I hope to donate it to Locks of Love. Two worthy causes in one shot... assuming I don't go insane and pull it all out before then.
As scraggly as it looks right now, for reasons I can't fathom, I've been getting lots of compliments on it. Honestly, I think it looks perfectly awful. It's too short to pull into a ponytail, so I keep it pulled back with either a headband or a barrette. I've tried styling it so that I don't have to pull it back, but because it's soooo thick and heavy (and at only 5 or 6" long), it just weighs down and sags, and then hangs in my face, blinding me. Literally. Seriously. A lock of hair actually flopped around and poked me in the eye the other day, hurting enough to make me cry out. It took several minutes for my eye to stop watering and return to normal.
March won't get here soon enough for me.
While I'm on the subject of hair, what's up with the gray ones?
I thought once gray came in, that was it? I've come across several strands of hair that are brown at the tip, then about an inch of it is gray, then it turns back to brown. Or vice-versa. I have got striped hair. What's up with that??
In today's news...
Among this morning's news headlines was the story of yet another school shooting. This one could've been a lot worse, but thankfully, the only one to lose their life was the gunman. It saddens me that these kids (at least, it's usually kids) can't resolve their anger and issues some other way than violence and the taking of lives.
When I was in high school, some 20+ years ago, I can't recall any instances of kids bringing guns to school. And I don't think anyone gave a second thought to anyone carrying a pocket knife. I'm sure a handful of the Memphis/Henryville area boys might've had guns in their trucks... they were country boys and they no doubt hunted. But again, I can't recall any of them taking out a weapon and brandishing it to the other students.
When I was a teen, the most violent anyone got was perhaps a couple of guys punching each other, or perhaps a couple of girls pulling hair and shoving.
If caught by an adult, they might've had to serve a 3-day, in-school suspension. Afterwards, all was forgotten, and life moved on.
So where along the lines in the past 20 or so years, did things become so violent? We had violent movies when I was a kid, so I really don't think that's the cause. Kids came from broken homes back then too, so again, I don't think that's the cause.
Sure, (illegal) drugs are a part of the problem in our society these days, but honestly though, if you look at all the school shootings, I don't think most of these kids were on drugs at the time. They were simply "disturbed", angry, children.
So what is it that's making these kids so disturbed???
I have no answer.
---
I suppose if there was a bright spot in this mornings headlines, is that it at least shifted the story away from the death of Princess Diana, 10+ years later. Enough is enough.
When I was in high school, some 20+ years ago, I can't recall any instances of kids bringing guns to school. And I don't think anyone gave a second thought to anyone carrying a pocket knife. I'm sure a handful of the Memphis/Henryville area boys might've had guns in their trucks... they were country boys and they no doubt hunted. But again, I can't recall any of them taking out a weapon and brandishing it to the other students.
When I was a teen, the most violent anyone got was perhaps a couple of guys punching each other, or perhaps a couple of girls pulling hair and shoving.
If caught by an adult, they might've had to serve a 3-day, in-school suspension. Afterwards, all was forgotten, and life moved on.
So where along the lines in the past 20 or so years, did things become so violent? We had violent movies when I was a kid, so I really don't think that's the cause. Kids came from broken homes back then too, so again, I don't think that's the cause.
Sure, (illegal) drugs are a part of the problem in our society these days, but honestly though, if you look at all the school shootings, I don't think most of these kids were on drugs at the time. They were simply "disturbed", angry, children.
So what is it that's making these kids so disturbed???
I have no answer.
---
I suppose if there was a bright spot in this mornings headlines, is that it at least shifted the story away from the death of Princess Diana, 10+ years later. Enough is enough.
New Addition
We finally did it.
We succumbed.
We just took on another financial burden.
No, it isn't another dog.
We went shopping last night for a new mattress.
I do believe this mattress cost as much as my first car. Of course, my first car was a '79 Ford Pinto...
Thank goodness they have 12 months same as cash financing.
I suppose you could say we went "middle of the road" on our purchase. There were certainly some there that cost less, but ugh, they were so uncomfortable. And there were certainly some there that cost a whole lot more, but I'd like to be able to pay it off before the mattress wears out.
As the bed we have is a California-King, waterbed frame, our purchase was a "custom" order. The store manager called "whoever" and asked which brands could/would make what we needed. Serta didn't. Simmons didn't. I don't think Sealy did either. Southerland seemed to be the only brand they carried that would make what we required.
Did you know that Mattresses Unlimited gave you a discount if you presented your Kroger Plus Card? I never knew! But hey, it saved us about $300.00. I haven't saved that much at Kroger in the 7 years I've had the card.
It could be up to two weeks before we get the bed, but I'm willing to wait. I'm so excited I can hardly stand it. The downside? I'll be dog/kennel sitting that week, and won't even get to enjoy it, should it arrive on the 22nd (has to be a monday delivery). I'd almost be happy if it were delayed 'til the 29th, just so I can enjoy it the first night we have it.
Anybody have a need for an old lumpy mattress?
We succumbed.
We just took on another financial burden.
No, it isn't another dog.
We went shopping last night for a new mattress.
I do believe this mattress cost as much as my first car. Of course, my first car was a '79 Ford Pinto...
Thank goodness they have 12 months same as cash financing.
I suppose you could say we went "middle of the road" on our purchase. There were certainly some there that cost less, but ugh, they were so uncomfortable. And there were certainly some there that cost a whole lot more, but I'd like to be able to pay it off before the mattress wears out.
As the bed we have is a California-King, waterbed frame, our purchase was a "custom" order. The store manager called "whoever" and asked which brands could/would make what we needed. Serta didn't. Simmons didn't. I don't think Sealy did either. Southerland seemed to be the only brand they carried that would make what we required.
Did you know that Mattresses Unlimited gave you a discount if you presented your Kroger Plus Card? I never knew! But hey, it saved us about $300.00. I haven't saved that much at Kroger in the 7 years I've had the card.
It could be up to two weeks before we get the bed, but I'm willing to wait. I'm so excited I can hardly stand it. The downside? I'll be dog/kennel sitting that week, and won't even get to enjoy it, should it arrive on the 22nd (has to be a monday delivery). I'd almost be happy if it were delayed 'til the 29th, just so I can enjoy it the first night we have it.
Anybody have a need for an old lumpy mattress?
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
Rotten Neighbor
Oops!
There was a segment on GMA yesterday morning about a website that may help/hurt realestate sales called: rottenneighbor.com
Needless to say, I sought out the site yesterday, just curious as to what was in our zipcode. There weren't any complaints posted, I guess that's a good thing. At least, I'm glad WE'RE not on there. It was tempting, but I abstained from leaving a post. No need to start slinging mud, unless someone else slings first.
But as I was looking through the Yahoo site today, towards the bottom of the home page, it lists what the top 10 internet searches have been for that day... wanna take a guess at what the #1 search was?... you guessed it: Rottenneighbor.com
Me thinks that GMA's segment may have opened up a can of worms.
I checked, still nothing for our zip code. But there were suddenly a lot of new posts in other Louisville areas.
Yeah, I think this site is going to be come very popular (or unpopular depending on your view) thanks to GMA.
There was a segment on GMA yesterday morning about a website that may help/hurt realestate sales called: rottenneighbor.com
Needless to say, I sought out the site yesterday, just curious as to what was in our zipcode. There weren't any complaints posted, I guess that's a good thing. At least, I'm glad WE'RE not on there. It was tempting, but I abstained from leaving a post. No need to start slinging mud, unless someone else slings first.
But as I was looking through the Yahoo site today, towards the bottom of the home page, it lists what the top 10 internet searches have been for that day... wanna take a guess at what the #1 search was?... you guessed it: Rottenneighbor.com
Me thinks that GMA's segment may have opened up a can of worms.
I checked, still nothing for our zip code. But there were suddenly a lot of new posts in other Louisville areas.
Yeah, I think this site is going to be come very popular (or unpopular depending on your view) thanks to GMA.
More losing it
**sigh**
I'm a person who is very lost without a watch on my wrist. Preferrably a digital watch w/velcro band, or plastic band if velcro isn't available. I'm not big on metal bands of any kind, or displays with a face and hands. No, I'm simple in my watch wishes.
I'm very rough on watches, scratching them up, breaking the bands, dipping my hands/arms into water and submersing the watch, or worse.
There was a blog I wrote about 2 1/2 years ago about a really nice watch I had, gold, dainty, totally not me, but I was wearing it, and the clasp came open, unbeknownst to me, and I lost it. Several months later I found it out in the yard, the only damage was a slight crack at the top of the glass face. The watch is still working today. In fact, I had to wear it for a couple of days this week.
I mentioned "or worse" above... or worse meaning "lost". This happened again this past weekend. When I went to pick up the dogs at the kennel, I took off my watch before bathing them. Needless to say, I went off and forgot it. Granted, I'll be going back up there in less than 2 weeks to kennel-sit again, but I knew I couldn't stand going watchless for that long, nor could I stand having to wear the petite, dainty watch for that long.
I sucked it up, wore the gold watch for a day, and then purchased another el-cheapo watch at Wally-world the other night. I refuse to pay more than $10 for a watch just for the fact that I'm constantly tearing them up or losing them.
Wonder what else I'm going to lose in the near future?
I'm a person who is very lost without a watch on my wrist. Preferrably a digital watch w/velcro band, or plastic band if velcro isn't available. I'm not big on metal bands of any kind, or displays with a face and hands. No, I'm simple in my watch wishes.
I'm very rough on watches, scratching them up, breaking the bands, dipping my hands/arms into water and submersing the watch, or worse.
There was a blog I wrote about 2 1/2 years ago about a really nice watch I had, gold, dainty, totally not me, but I was wearing it, and the clasp came open, unbeknownst to me, and I lost it. Several months later I found it out in the yard, the only damage was a slight crack at the top of the glass face. The watch is still working today. In fact, I had to wear it for a couple of days this week.
I mentioned "or worse" above... or worse meaning "lost". This happened again this past weekend. When I went to pick up the dogs at the kennel, I took off my watch before bathing them. Needless to say, I went off and forgot it. Granted, I'll be going back up there in less than 2 weeks to kennel-sit again, but I knew I couldn't stand going watchless for that long, nor could I stand having to wear the petite, dainty watch for that long.
I sucked it up, wore the gold watch for a day, and then purchased another el-cheapo watch at Wally-world the other night. I refuse to pay more than $10 for a watch just for the fact that I'm constantly tearing them up or losing them.
Wonder what else I'm going to lose in the near future?
Happy to see me?
When I went to pick up Bootsy & Eliott at "grandma's" on Sunday morning, I heard them both barking, along with the 8 other giants in the kennel. It always amazes me how dogs have such different "voices", and that I was actually able to pick theirs out of the crowd. By the time I stepped out of the car, they had both exited the building and were in the exterior dog-run attached to their pen.
My ever buoyant Bootsy was hopping up and down on her hind legs. The chain-linked fencing that encloses the pens is at least 7 feet high, but she kept standing on her hind legs, and her front paws easily gripped the top of the fence.
They both seemed overjoyed to see their Momma, after all, it had been 8 1/2 days since we last saw one another. I opened the gate to their pen, expecting them to tackle me in their enthusiasm, but instead, they ran past me and straight over to the vehicle... they were ready to go!
"Um, excuse me? Do you not see me standing here?" I called them back over to me, and was then showered with their love. Bootsy left me with a nice red whelp on my neck where she scratched me in her excitement. They were so anxious to leave, they even refused to eat their breakfast. They both seemed quite put out that I made them go back in the pen, and wait their turns while I gave each of them a bath.
Once I had the car loaded down with their dirty blankets, towels, and a 2-month supply of dog food, I left the rear hatch of the Vue open, then went in and opened the gate to their pen. They bolted past me and Bootsy virtually flew to the car, making a flying leap, cleared the bumper and landed in the back of the car. Eliott ran for the car too, but not being as agile, he halted at the bumper, and struggled a bit but finally clambered into the vehicle, unassisted.
Were they happy to see me?
Yes, I think so.
Ever since being home, Eliott's been somewhat more subdued, almost sulky. Bootsy is as wound up as ever. And Olivia is happy to have her Bubby & Sissy back home again.
My ever buoyant Bootsy was hopping up and down on her hind legs. The chain-linked fencing that encloses the pens is at least 7 feet high, but she kept standing on her hind legs, and her front paws easily gripped the top of the fence.
They both seemed overjoyed to see their Momma, after all, it had been 8 1/2 days since we last saw one another. I opened the gate to their pen, expecting them to tackle me in their enthusiasm, but instead, they ran past me and straight over to the vehicle... they were ready to go!
"Um, excuse me? Do you not see me standing here?" I called them back over to me, and was then showered with their love. Bootsy left me with a nice red whelp on my neck where she scratched me in her excitement. They were so anxious to leave, they even refused to eat their breakfast. They both seemed quite put out that I made them go back in the pen, and wait their turns while I gave each of them a bath.
Once I had the car loaded down with their dirty blankets, towels, and a 2-month supply of dog food, I left the rear hatch of the Vue open, then went in and opened the gate to their pen. They bolted past me and Bootsy virtually flew to the car, making a flying leap, cleared the bumper and landed in the back of the car. Eliott ran for the car too, but not being as agile, he halted at the bumper, and struggled a bit but finally clambered into the vehicle, unassisted.
Were they happy to see me?
Yes, I think so.
Ever since being home, Eliott's been somewhat more subdued, almost sulky. Bootsy is as wound up as ever. And Olivia is happy to have her Bubby & Sissy back home again.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)