I like fat ones

I like fat ones, the fatter the better. Pens that is.

It is a rare thing for you to catch me writing with a normal sized pen or pencil, they just hurt my hand to grip them for any length of time.

Remember when we old-folks were in kindergarden/1st grade, the pencils and crayons we used were really thick? Do children these days still start off using those?, or do they go straight to the #2 size? Who am I kidding? Most kids these days don't do much writing, as they all seem to have laptops by the time they're 6 years old. Why write when they can type?

Notice in the photo, the red pen is the standard size most people write with.

The green pen is mine. :)

I found three of these at the store back around Christmas, but alas, I've used them so much, I'm on my last one, and I fear it may not have too much ink left in it. **sniff**

I'll have to be on the look-out for more fatties.

So if any of you out there have acquired fat pens and don't have any use for them, send them my way!

One other note... fatties are much easier to keep track of. Not too many people try to put one in their pocket and walk off with them ('cept maybe me!).

My favorite of all time?

Most certainly this is my favorite John Denver song, but quite possibly it may be my ALL-TIME FAVORITE song of any song I've ever heard.

Another one of those Psych moments?

Shortly after 3 o'clock this morning, I was awakened, not by the alarm clock (as the husband had day off). It was one of the animals, whether the cats wanting to be fed or the dogs wanting to go out, I'm not sure, but since the hubby had stayed out in the living room watching tv all night long, I ignored the animals pleas so that he would take care of them. Since I didn't need to get up and pack his lunch or fix his breakfast, I wanted to take advantage of his day off and "sleep in", so to speak.
I fell back asleep a short time later and my dreams turned to happenings at the farm. While the people in my dream were people I knew from the Luci Ctr., the farm itself was totally different, more of an agriculture farm than an equine farm. Oh well, since when do dreams really ever make sense??
At one point, some of us (me driving) got into a car to leave and we were sitting at the end of the driveway, waiting to pull out onto the road. There was a tractor-trailer tanker that was also attempting to pull out onto the highway, but coming from across the street (another driveway I suppose). As the road was narrow, he had to swing wide, and had to stop short to avoid hitting the front of my car. Before I had a chance to back up and give him room, he decided to cut it sharp, nearly jack-knifing the truck and headed on down the road, but somehow started losing control of his tanker. We all sat there watching, waiting for him to get his rig straightened out, when another semi-truck came rolling down the road going a bit too fast for that country road, and seemingly unaware that the truck in front of him was having problems.
Right before our eyes, the first tanker went under an overpass that didn't have enough clearance, sheering off the top of his truck. He then completely lost control and flipped over on the roadway and it became engulfed in flames.
I'm not sure what happened beyond that point, as I either woke up, or my dreams just drifted elsewhere...
Now fast-forward about three hours to when I actually got up and started getting ready for work. I turned on the local news channel as I always do, and they were telling of how the I-71 south-bound ramp to I-264 west was shut down due to a tractor-trailer that had overturned and flipped over the guardrail, shortly after 3 this morning.
Needless to say, my head snapped up and came to attention as they repeated this story.
Granted, there was only one truck involved in the real accident, and it wasn't a tanker, but still, I dreamt that a semi flipped over, shortly after 3 this morning, right about the time that driver lost his life out on the interstate.
It sent shivers down my spine.
Que up the music from "Twilight Zone" please...

A classic!

I was driving down the road the other day with a friend and this song was playing. I commented that it was so hard for me to grasp that this song was as old as it was, as I remembered being in 2nd or 3rd grade and our class sang this song as part of an Arbor Day pagent... so that would've been '76 or '77. Not really sure when the song was released, but I love it as much today as I did back then. As she replied to me, Yeah, but it's a classic that spans the ages.

The pictures in this video are awesome to look at also.

Shake, rattle & roll

It's 2:42pm by my watch, and there was an earthquake in California. Not sure how severe as yet. I was talking with a woman on the phone that suddenly yelled in my ear they were having an earthquake. Said she'd call me back & hung up. Hope it's not in the Yosemite area, as those residents don't need anything else going wrong for them at this time.

Dying to get in

People are dying to get in here... it's a joke, in poor taste, but one people seem to say to us (in the funeral biz) often. I guess they think they're being original when they come up with that little quip. I always preferred "I work with a bunch of stiffs".
We've been exceptionally busy these past several days. Perhaps not as busy as some of the mega-funeral homes in Louisville, but by our standards out here in the country, we've been slammed! But I'm mustering through, pacing myself. Hoping that we'll catch a break once the last one (currently scheduled that is) is out of here on Friday.
In the mean time, this leaves me little time to do much more than glance at other blogs while I'm inhaling my lunch.

I'll leave you with my tuesday song of the day...

For whom the bell tolls...

The doorbell rang last night as I was putting dinner-fixen's away. I fought my way down the hall, through the throng of barking, thrashing, Dane bodies. I made it to the front door and peeked out the window before opening it... I usually do this #1) depending on who it is will tell me how the dogs will react when I finally manage to get the door open, #2) in the event it's a door-to-door salesman or some thug casing the joint, I don't want to calm the dogs down and want to make sure the caller knows not to mess with our home, #3) if it's a friendly face, I don't want the dogs traumatizing the caller & I'll do my best to calm them down (operative phrase there being "do my best").
As I glanced, I saw two women, one black who looked vaguely familiar, and a white woman I didn't recognize. The white woman was holding the leash attached to a blue Great Dane. My interest was piqued, but I knew better than to open the door very wide, because if my dogs saw another dog standing on their porch, they'd truly flip out!
I managed to squeeze past my kids and through the door, leaving them to throw a fit on the other side. As it turned out, the black lady lived in the next subdivision, but I'd seen her out walking from time to time. The lady with the dog had knocked on her door by mistake, thinking we lived there... she was looking for the people with Great Danes, as a mutual friend had sent her to talk to us. So the black lady was kind enough to walk her over to our house (yes, most everybody knows our house is the one with the giant dogs).
The blue Dane's name is Maddox. She's not quite 2 years old, a bit timid, but sweet none the less. Maddox's mommy kind of inherited her, when she agreed to watch her for a few weeks when the owners had their new baby. Apparently they never came back to get her. Can you imagine??? So Maddox's new owner was just looking for some other big dogs in the neighborhood that she could perhaps play with. Knowing Bootsy wouldn't have any part of playing with another dog, I decided to bring out Eliott. At first his hackles were very much raised and Maddox went to hide behind her owner's legs. But after a few minutes Eliott's ruffled feathers finally smoothed and he began to sniff her all over. Maddox wasn't to thrilled about the big beast sniffing her butt and bared her teeth at him. She finally rolled over and tried to play with him, but in the stifling heat and humidity, he'd now lost interest.
Maddox's owner & I exchanged phone numbers and email addresses, and I told her Eliott & perhaps Olivia would love to have a play date, although not in this heat.
Hopefully we'll get a chance to play soon and I can get some pix to post.

Coming back to haunt me...

Be careful what you say out loud, your words just may come back to haunt you.
The weather yesterday just begged for me to go out and enjoy our swimming pool, so I went in the bedroom to don my swimsuit. On a whim, I looked through my dresser drawer to see if I had any other swimsuits that might fit, besides the two I'd been wearing all summer. I found a couple of suits, left-overs from about 4 years when I'd lost a lot of weight. I wondered, would they fit again? I squeezed into the first one... hmm, needed to lose a few more pounds before stepping out of the house in this thing. I tried on the next one, not expecting any better luck, but surprisingly, it fit fairly well. Maybe not perfectly, but fairly well. Certainly, I'd never go to a public pool in that suit, but for the privacy of our own backyard, it would suffice. This "new" swimsuit exposed parts of my back that up 'til now, had been covered by my other swimsuits.
I had a pretty good tan going else where, and even commented to my friend that came over to swim with us, that I had been fortunate so far this year that I hadn't burned (to speak of), nor had I had any episodes with peeling.
That conversation was my un-doing.
My previously un-exposed skin, now exposed to the sun for the first time, received quite a burn. It is now a very bright red and hurts very much. I feel like I'm about to burst into flames at any moment.
So I know what many of you are thinking, "why didn't you use sunscreen?"
Have you ever tried to apply anything to your own back? Unless you're pretzel-boy, it's nearly impossible. I went outside, thinking my husband was coming out any moment and would apply some, but he ended up taking his ol' sweet time, and didn't come out for nearly an hour-plus. By then, the damage was done.
So here I sit, burnin' and hurtin', leaning up against an ice pack.
And I give you my Monday, song of the day...

The family jewels

I headed to Michael's Craft Store on Saturday to pick up the necessary items to work on the necklace kits I'd received. I stood before the big wall of beading supplies and just stared, often staring at the inside of my eyelids as I'd close my eyes and take a deep breath before plunging ahead with this project. First of all, string. I looked for the one with the heaviest breakage point, as I wanted it to be durable. The little thingys that kept the beads from falling off the string (what they're called totally escapes me at the moment), as I only saw one variety, that pretty much made that choice easy. Jumper rings, I naively only looked at the size of the loop, and not the size of the wire, and chose the larger rings which were also made of a heavier wire. Next came the clasps. I absolutely despise the toggle clasps, as I can't ever get the darned things to stay latched. Not a big fan of the lobster-claw as I often break my nails on these, then my eyes landed on the magnetic clasps. I think I found exactly what I needed! I didn't give any consideration to the over-all size of this closure, which later proved to be my misfortune. :( The only thing I managed to select that proved to be a smart move was the beading needles with the collapsible eye.
I already had a large variety of pliers and cutters at home, left-overs from a failed attempt at making some earrings a few years ago. However a crimper was needed for the "thingys", and a box to store the beads in. I made it out of Michael's after spending $42... somehow my $7 necklaces were getting more expensive by the moment.
Once home, I started on my first strand. After looking at the picture of the necklace, it appeared there were three separate strands, each strand made up of a different bead, and then once the three strands were done, they were wrapped around each other. Looked easy enough.
Wouldn't you think that the people that put these kits together would send the correct amount of beads so that each strand would come out the same length? You might think that, but you'd be wrong. I got all three strands completed and when I held them up, the blue and the white strands were close, with the blue strand being about an inch & a half longer, but the green strand, oh my goodness!!! It was over twice as long as the blue one. "Filth, Flarn, Filth!" as Bill Cosby would say. Once I'd removed the inch of blue beads and several feet off of the green strand, I finally had them all the same length. I managed to get them all closed off and connected at the ends. Then when I tried to attach a jumper-ring, I was not so surprised (because of how things had been going thus far) to find that it was too big (wire too thick) to fit through the opening on the thingy. Grrr! This was going to require another trip to Michael's this weekend.
Still, wanting to see how it was going to look, I fetched the pendant that went with this necklace and now I really was shocked to find that the three strands of beads were too big, I mean, too thick to fit through the opening on the pendant. WTF?? Now I was getting really P.O.'d!! More Filth-flarn-filth!!!
I finally found one of the other pendants that would fit on it, even though the colors didn't go together, I just wanted to see how it would look, so I slipped it on and slipped it around my neck, holding the two ends together behind my neck. Now WTF?? The stupid thing was so long, it hung down past my breasts. Things were going from bad to worse, very quickly! Total discouragement set in, and I gave up for the night.
Sunday, after the farm, I stopped again at Michael's. Picked up the smaller jumper rings and headed home. Knowing I needed to shorten what I'd done so far, but loathe to start disassembling it already, I set it aside and started on the next kit. This time, before starting, I took out one of the necklaces I'd gotten "pre-assembled" and measured the length, and made sure my work from this point stayed in that general size, length-wise. Knowing three strands would be too thick, I decided to try going for two strands. This worked out well, got everything done, the magnetic clasp in place. Then I tried slipping the pendant on and hit another stumbling block. The darned magnetic clasp was too big to fit through the pendant's opening. More Filth-flarn-filth!!! Why were things not working out for me? Why was this turning into such a difficult project??
This is the moment when I resisted the urge to hurl the whole kit and kaboodle across the room.
So another trip to Michael's is in order to pick up the smaller lobster-claw clasps.
**sigh**
I've a whole new appreciation for those that do make hand-made jewelry, and do it well.

Saturday Nostalgia & Friday photo challenge-timeless

I was originally going to bale on the Friday Photo Challenge this week, as I was coming up blank. But as I was loading my photo for Saturday's Nostalgia, I realized I could combine the two days into one with this photo...

I was probably about 5 years old in this pic, +/- a year, hunkered down on the sofa, curled up in blankets. Was it cold? Could've been. Or maybe I just wanted to cuddle, and the blankets were readily available. The one I was covered with was your run of the mill blanket from the store, but the two under my head were special...


The white one (had a pattern on the otherside, I just had it turned over for some reason) was a handmade quilt my great-grandmother had made. And the ugly green blanket with the pink and blue flowers and giraffes was the blankie I carried around for years, much like Linus from the Peanuts cartoon strip. That blankie was made for me by my Nanny. She made me other blankets, but this is the one that went everywhere with me. This is the one that I slept with every night. This is the blankie that saw me through countless tummy-aches, ear-aches, fevers, bouts of strep-throat, hurt feelings, nightmares, the start of a new school when we moved, the indignation of no longer being an only child, pets lost, spankings... the list could go on forever!
A good childhood blankie is priceless and a timeless treasure. Just ask any child.
I admit, I still have that blanket today, although it's in see-through tatters, and kept in a gallon-size ziploc bag. It would never survive another spin in the washing machine. I don't know why I hold onto the tatters of my childhood friend, but I do.
Also in the picture, if you look at the top of the couch, you can just make out the legs of a teddy bear. That stuffed animal had been my mothers when she was a girl, it had been won for her at a carnival. My grandmother had given me that bear, probably not too long before that photo was taken. And yes, I still have that bear to this day.
Last but not least, the hat.
That was my father's favorite hat back then. He wore it fishing, to work in the lawn, to run errands, just about for everything he did. I don't know whatever became of the hat... probably fell apart after one too many washings. But for just that moment in time, daddy's hat was mine!

Death wish on wheels

There are a couple of children in our neighborhood, brothers they are. One is obsessive-compulsive, they both seem to have a death-wish, and they can both always be found on one set of wheels or another at any given time.
The younger of the two is forever on his bicycle.
The older used to ride his bike obsessively up and down our cul-de-sac for hours on end, day in, day out. Recently, he switched from his bike to a scooter... the kind that looks like a skate-board with a handle in the front that you push yourself around on. Now he pushes himself obsessively up and down the cul-de-sac. The way he's hunched over the handlebar, I figure it's only a matter of time before this kid ends up with some major back problems, but I suspect he'll have some healthy leg muscles for his efforts.
We (and by "we", I mean pretty much everybody that lives on our street, except for these kids parents) are forever having to watch for them when we're pulling into our out of our driveways. These kids almost seem to have a death wish. They see you coming, yet they do nothing to get out of your way. They know you're getting ready to back into your driveway, and yet they seem to purposely ride behind your vehicle instead of going around to the front or better yet, stopping and waiting.
Three times yesterday evening, I sat and watched the youngest of the two boys nearly get hit (one of those times was by me!). Their parents (the father more so than the mother) drive like bats out of hell, not stopping for stop signs and driving entirely too fast through the subdivision, and paying little heed to those walking/playing in the street. I've often wondered if they purposely tell their children to go play in traffic.
I know at least one of the neighbors has had a talk with the parents, but it hasn't seemed to do much good. The parents keep driving like maniacs and the boys keeping playing chicken with those of us behind the wheel.
So until the day either they or we move away, we'll just have to maintain extra vigilant.
And in case you're wondering how old these kids are, the youngest is approx. 8 and the older one is about 15 or 16... certainly old enough to know better. I shudder to think what this kid will be like if he ever gets his drivers license.
Thought I'd include my song of the day, since we're on the subject of "wheels".

Accessorizing

One of my children apparently felt I wasn't quite accessorized properly this morning, and decided to add his own touch to my outfit, by shaking his head and sending his slimy dog loogies at me. I must've been in a fog when he did this, or else I've just gotten so used to him drooling and shaking, that I just didn't even notice him when he did it. But while I was measuring out my cereal, I suddenly felt something wet on my arm when it brushed up against my sweater. I looked down, and indeed, there was a small spot of dog drool. I blotted it off my sweater and wiped my arm. Then, as I was squatted down to clean up the cereal I'd spilled on the floor, I then noticed a big wet spot on my crotch... and no, it wasn't from me! Again, one of the dog's slimy loogies had found it's mark, landing on my left thigh, right next to my crotch... I looked as if I'd wet myself. **grumble, grumble** It's times like this that I often consider taking my outfit to work in a clothing bag and getting dressed there. It would be so much simpler and I'd avoid having to use the lint brush as often and avoid the dog slimes!

On a slightly different note, but still talking about accessories...

A few weeks ago I purchased 4 necklaces. They were inexpensive pieces ($6.95 each, bargain of the day!), but they caught my eye and hardly a day has passed since, that I've not worn one or another. They're interchangeable glass pendants, each having come with a thick rope made of glass beads. I just love them!

A few days ago, I saw some similar pendants in a catalog, only catch this time is that they were sold as "kits" and you had to assemble the rope of beads yourself. Hmmm, how hard can that be? I took a chance and ordered them (all!). I'm fairly certain the description in the catalog said it was a complete kit, which in my mind tells me it should include not only the beads and pendant, but the string or whatever to string them on, the clasp, instructions, etc.

When the box arrived yesterday with my purchase, I was so excited. I tore open the box only to discover that their definition of "complete kit" is made up of only the pendant and the beads. No string, no clasp, and even worse, no instructions!!

Now WTH am I supposed to do with all these bags of beads??

So for now, I'm accessorizing with my original ropes of beads and the new pendants.

Where does the time go?

I can't believe it's been almost 28 years since this song was released! Where does the time go????

Re-connecting

While coming up with the guest list for our up-coming luau, I told the husband it would be nice to invite "B". We hadn't seen or talked to B in years, and I thought it was sad how some friendships seemed to fall to the wayside. At one time, my husband and B were very close. B was in our wedding, and we used to spend nearly every weekend with B and his girlfriend. When the motor speedway closed down a few years ago, that was about when we stopped seeing them. They had married, and were popping out children. He took a job as an over-the-road truck driver, and we lost touch.
One of our neighbor's son-in-law happened to work with B, and used to keep us up to date from time to time of B's well-being ('til B went to work for a different company). I'm almost sure that the s-i-l had told us at one point that B and his wife were getting a divorce.
Over the years, from time to time, B's name would come up in conversation and we'd wonder aloud how he was doing. But as I said, while working on the guest list, I became determined to invite B and have my husband re-connect with his old friend.
I looked up B's parents number, and I looked up B on the 'net. It still showed him living at the last address we knew of him to be at. Hmm, wonder if he still actually lived there? or if the possibly now ex-wife lived there and the phone was just still in his name?
I copied down both phone numbers and last night, after we'd finished our walk, we sat down in the swing to enjoy the cool weather we were experiencing. I pulled out the piece of paper with the phone numbers on it and handed it to the husband and said, "here, make the call". So he did.
As it turns out, B and his wife are still together and are now grandparents. B still drives o-t-r, but had some serious health problems a few months back which has kept him home, unable to work for now. They talked for a while, catching up, and John confirmed they were still at the same address so I could send them an invite.
I was happy I had pushed him to make the call. Does it mean we'll start spending a lot of time with them again? Probably not, but it's nice to know that we can still make a connection once in a while, if only for old times sake.

On being alone

I blogged last week about the realization that many of my neighbors are elderly and living alone.
Then this morning I read a blog, written by a young woman (yes Abz, you're still considered young, despite what your children might say ;+) ) on the topic of being alone.
So I just thought I'd add 2 more cents worth.
One of my relatives remained married to a miserable person for a quarter of a century. How that person endured the abuse, both physical and emotional is beyond me! They separated at one point, but then got back together and the abuse continued. The abuse wasn't constant, but when it took place, it was unreal! Many members of the family wished, prayed for, and begged for the abusive person to be cut-loose from their lives. But the abused one stuck with it, 'til death finally did them part.
During all those years of abuse, we pondered "why?". Love only played a part of it. But most of us agreed that the biggest reason the abused one stayed in the relationship was a fear of being alone.
But as two sisters (one divorced, one a widow) of the abused one said, "there are worse things than being alone". But still the abused one stayed on.
As I said, death finally did part them, but it was the abuser that went first (natural causes). Most of us let out a big sigh of relief.
But now that abused person, while living alone, is rarely ever alone because the children and grandchildren are there constantly filling up the waking moments so they won't be alone.
Of course there is the night-time, and the sleeping alone. But geesh, I'd think after all those years of not knowing if you were going to be attacked in your sleep, I'd think it would be a nice change of pace to finally get some restful sleep.

I know this really doesn't apply to Abz situation, but her blog & some of the comments just got me to thinking.

I've long maintained that should I find myself single again, due to divorce, that I never wanted to go down the marriage path again. But should I find myself single due to the death of my spouse, then eventually, I might consider marriage should the right person come along. I'm a firm believer in people repeating their mistakes (multiple marriages/divorces) and I'm also a firm believer in "if you had a good marriage with true love, then you're apt to find true love again".
I know darned good and well I wouldn't be very good at the dating game, as I don't like bars/clubs, I don't trust personal ads in a newspaper, nor do I trust match-making dating services. Much like "fnl" said, if it was meant to be, I think the right person will just happen along when you least expect it. And until then, being alone isn't the worst thing in the world.

The decorating gene

The decorating-gene, something I do NOT possess. I have a friend that fully admits she too lacks this gene. I sympathize and fully understand. But I feel we're both in good company.
Decorating my house is not something I have ever done (successfully), or even aspire to accomplish, unless you consider mis-matched furniture, covered in dust and dog-hair some nouvoeau eclectic style.
The only things that I have hanging on my walls are cobwebs and framed collages of our dogs photos. One can never go wrong when hanging pictures of one's children, can they?
Once upon a time I used to try and keep the dog slobber and dog hair wiped off the frames, but have long since given up the battle, and now most are covered with a layer of fuzzy dog hair and dried dog loogies that were slung there when one of my babes decided to engage in a full-body shake that sent the line of drool flying from their lips, through the air, across the room, 'til it landed on the glass of the framed collages. I think it tends to give an added depth to the photos, almost as if they have a life of their own. Somewhat of a 3-d collection of photos that are hands-on, you can pet the photos and feel the soft fur the dogs have. ;)

A friend of a friend

My friend sent me (& several others) an email with a prayer-request for her ailing friend, and a link to their blog.
Once things got caught up here at work, I went back and clicked on the link and started reading. I was doing fine 'til I got a few blogs into it and the father was relating the conversation he'd had with his 2 year old son, who kept asking "Why was mommy trying? (crying)". That finally tore me up!
If you'd like to read their blog and follow their progress, click on this link: http://forleslie.blogspot.com/

RVS

Back in the day when I was a devoted country music fan, one of my favorites was Ricky Van Shelton. At the time, my husband wasn't real big on country music, but I'd almost be willing to say that RVS was one of those artists that swayed my husband over to the country-side of music listening.
I used to watch the Nashville Network quite a lot, way back when, and whenever I'd see RVS being interviewed, I'd turn the volume up, as I was guaranteed to hear something witty being said. Ricky could always tell a simple story, but tell it in such a way he'd have you laughing out loud, guffawing, and shaking with mirth. My husband always got a kick out of his interviews as well. While John started turning to country music, I evenutally turned away from it. But I still listen to a lot of my old cd's & tapes, because there's a lot of good music out there, just sitting on the shelf, so to speak. I've not heard anything out of Ricky Van Shelton in a long time, so I'm not sure whatever happened to his career (or him for that matter).
When I watched this video, he looked like he was having fun in life, was having fun whether performing or traveling or whatever. So many aritists treat their profession as a "job" or feel they have to do umpteen costume changes and have fancy light shows in order to perform for us. All that does is jack up the cost of admission! I don't go to concerts to watch the flashing lights or their wardrobe. I go to listen to the music. I'd rather go and listen to someone that puts on a show and has fun doing it, and is dressed comfortably even if it's in a t-shirt & tennis shoes for the whole show.
This is one of my favorite Ricky Van Shelton songs, and I think it sums it up pretty well: I am a simple man

One word comes to mind: Why?

I was reading the "Tell Me Where It Hurts" book last night, and got to page 201 where I read something that absolutely horrified me. I audibly gasped and had to go back and read it out loud to the husband. When finished, all I could say was, "Why?"

This excerpt is from the book:
Apparently ferret-legging is a centuries-old English sport in which the contestant stuffs a pair of ill-tempered ferrets down his pants. To ensure maximum hanky-panky several restrictions apply:

* The pants must be baggy enough to ensure optimal ferret slinkage between both legs.
* The ankles and waistband must be cinched tight and secure to prevent their premature escape.
* White pants are preferable to demonstrate the contestant's blood loss.
* No underwear of any description is permitted.
* Ferrets should have a full set of sharp teeth. I found no reference to their claws, but I suppose all pain is relative.
* Neither the competitor nor the ferret can be under the influence of chemical intervention. Dutch courage in its vaious forms (e.g., frantic tokes on hydroponic marijuana or excessive quaffing of best bitter) will not be tolerated.

The aim of the game is quite simple. The winner is the person who can keep the ferrets in their pants for the longest period of time.

Okay, I would think the winner of this, um, sport?, would be the guy that came away with his family jewels in tact.
But again I have to ask, Why?????

Freebies!

We all love freebies! Especially when they're unexpected!!
I had ordered some stuff recently from a catalog for our upcoming luau, gotten an emailed confirmation, and then waited patiently (okay, maybe a little impatiently!) for it to arrive. Today was the day. I opened the box and started looking through the items. Three of the five items I'd ordered I could remember off the top of my head, and I confirmed they were indeed there. I picked up a large bag that contained 1 dozen inflatable objects. Hmmm, I didn't recall having ordered those. Now it was time to go look at my original order. No, don't see anything about 1 dozen inflatables. Was it a substitution for something I'd ordered? There was no mention of it on the packing slip. I finished looking through the box and checked off one more item I'd ordered, but alas, 1 item was missing and then there was the dozen inflatables. What was I to do with them? Of course, they were all tropical in theme, so certainly they'd fit in with the luau, but I hadn't ordered them.
I called customer service and told them I'd been shorted 1 item, and received 1 un-ordered item. The lady in customer service told me just to keep the inflatables... Yea!, a Freebie!!!
She then re-ordered the missing item. And before I could get off the phone with her, I'd been sent a confirmation email of the missing item.
And all is right with my world today.
So now I'm going to have a lot of inflatable tropical animals hanging around under the shelter house for the luau. Can't wait!!

Forgiveness

I've read 2, totally unrelated blogs today, both on the topic of FORGIVENESS.
As it seems like a popular topic today, I thought I'd add my own 2-cents worth.
Forgiving someone can be both a difficult and easy thing to do.
We usually turn it into something difficult because of our own stubbornness and pride, as we choose to hold onto and harbor resentment for the pain, humiliation, or whatever, that the other person(s) caused us. And then that resentment turns to anger and hatred if allowed to fester. Anger and hatred in turn can cause us ill-health in the form of high blood pressure, tension headaches, chest pains, stroke, etc. Bad attitudes and negativity ooze from us and start to alienate those around us, and turn us into a miserable person to be around.
But if we choose to forgive, and for those of us that have done so, then we know that there is an almost immediate since of relief, both physical and emotional. Yes, tears may flow and our heart may pound, but once we've forgiven, then there is relief.
Forgiving allows us to move on and heal.
Mind you, I'm not talking about forgetting. Forgiving and forgetting are two entirely different things. Forgetting is something that is in your memory, and that isn't something we have full control over. There are lots of things I'd like to forget, useless tidbits of info floating around in my memory, taking up space. I'd love nothing better than to forget a lot of things and free up some space. But I can't, and from time to time I keep remembering, for whatever reason. Then again, there are a lot of things I'd like to remember and can't. Or at the very least, I can't remember the details as well as I used to, and with each passing year the memory gets hazier. In time, some things we will forget, but not necessarily the things that have caused us pain. But I think as long as we can forgive, it makes the memories we can't forget, more bearable.
I've done an awful lot of forgiving in my life... not all of it immediately, sometimes only after years of harboring that resentment I mentioned. But in these past few years, I've learned a lot about forgiveness, and hope to stay on that path. I just hope that people I may have caused hurt to in the past can forgive me as well.

80's flashback

My Tuesday song of the day... this one is for you Teener!
I was listening to this on the drive into work this morning and I had an 80's flashback.
This song was popular back when I was in the 6th or 7th grade. My best friend at the time gave me the 45 of this song for my birthday (13th birthday I guess), and while I no longer have a record player to play it on, I do still have the record.
Remember this Bertina???

Herb, we have a clean-up in aisle 6!

Remember the movie "Mr. Mom" starring Michael Keaton? The scene where he takes his kids to do the grocery shopping, and it seemed every aisle they went down, something got knocked over, spilled, or just a mess in general was made? And then at the end when he was going through check-out and the clerk had to call for a price check on tampons, Mr. Mom just wanted to go crawl into a hole somewhere and hide!? I love the grocery scene!
Last night while we were at the grocery, I felt very much like Michael Keaton's character...
It was Monday evening, so that meant grocery night. There weren't very many items on the list & fortunately, not much beyond the list ended up in the cart. Among our few items was a pair of shoes the husband had picked up and a bag of dog food. Our bulk order of dog food hadn't come in yet and I knew we didn't have enough to get us through the week. I didn't want to make a special trip to the pet store to purchase it, so I just purchased a bag of Purina One to tie them over for a few days.
As we only had a few items, I got in the self-scan check-out lane. I'd scanned a few items and bagged them, then reached into the cart and lifted out the 34 lb. bag of dog food. I scanned it, then sat it on the bagging area so the system would "register" that I hadn't skipped bagging it and mess up the system. Once it had registered, I wanted to put the giant bag back in the cart and get it out of the way. I lifted the bag straight up and the seam in the bottom of the bag gave way and 34 pounds of dry dog kibble came pouring out and covered my feet. All I could do was utter a loud, "Son of a Bitch!"
People were stopping in their tracks, turning away from whatever they were doing to turn and stare. Some seemed as horrified as I was, others were somewhat amused and proceeded to laugh out loud, whether at my misfortune, or just the sight of me buried in 6" of dog food, or just laughing because they were glad it wasn't themselves buried, I don't know. I knew there was no point in getting mad, it wasn't the stores fault. There was no point in being embarrassed, as it wasn't my fault. It was just one of those things that happened. I proceeded to laugh as well and step out of the pile and try to shake the crumbs out of my sandals. I went back to scanning the rest of my groceries while the husband went to fetch a new bag of dog food and a clerk went to fetch a broom, dust pan and garbage can. Of all the times for me not to have my camera in my purse! I did take a picture with my cell phone, but I have no way of downloading it to my computer, so I guess if anybody wants to see it, they'll have to come look at my phone.
As if all this wasn't bad enough, as we were leaving the store and passing through the doors, the theft-alarm started sounding and lights flashing. Apparently my husband's new shoes hadn't been de-activated when I passed them across the scanner, and the security tag was now sounding the alarm, so once again, everybody in the store was turning to stare.
This is the point where I now wanted to go crawl into a hole and hide.
Oh well. I guess I could've gotten mad, but what was the point? I could've shown outrage at all my misfortune, but what was the point? I again decided to see the humor in the situation and laughed it off. Then hurried home before anything else could happen to draw attention to us.

Mystery ailment

Tuesday evening, Bootsy wasn't acting quite her normal self. Her appetite was fine, but she was lying about more so than usual, and seemed to prefer being off by herself more so than usual. When she would walk or run, she appeared fine, but when she stood still, she did so on 3 legs, holding one hind foot up off the ground. When she was lying down, she'd lie with that one foot somewhat elevated.
I looked the foot over, could find no thorns or obvious wounds, didn't feel any heat, pushed and squeezed a bit to see if she'd react to any area being painful, but got nothing. Thinking the unthinkable, that perhaps she was just starting to show her age and was achy, I gave her some Ascriptin and some extra loving.
By Wednesday morning, she seemed back to her ol' perky self. Playful, bright-eyed, nub wagging, butt wiggling, happy self. But when I stepped back to watch and see if she held that foot up in the air, I was horrified to see that her foot, from the toes all the way up to the "elbow" was swollen to twice it's normal size. OMG!!! WTH???
I again felt the leg but couldn't feel any heat, couldn't find any obvious wounds, I was mystified! She walked and ran on it just fine, and no longer held it up in the air, so obviously it wasn't bothering her in the least.
Hmmm, what to do?, what to do?
Since she obviously wasn't suffering, I decided (for once) not to run straight to the vet. I let her be and went on to work. I called the husband and told him to go straight home after work and check on her. When he arrived, it was still swollen, but otherwise she was fine. He gave her some more Ascriptin.
I called the vet when I got home, that was about 5:15. He was already booked up through closing and couldn't work us in, and suggested soaking her foot in some Epsom salts. Um, excuse me, how do you get a 120 lb. dog to soak their foot? Have you ever tried it?? It's not easy.
I filled a bucket with warm water, stirred in the salts, the proceeded to play a game with Bootsy of: "Mom's going to place my foot in this bucket, and I'm going to take it out and try to knock the bucket over"
This game went on for 10 minutes 'til I finally gave up and not so silently cussed the vet.
The next morning the swelling seemed ever so slightly improved, so I decided to wait it out.
It took three days, but the swelling suddenly disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared.
Was it perhaps a bee sting or spider bite? I don't know. Some other mystery ailment? Perhaps.
I'll probably never know for sure.

Monday, song of the day

I was looking for something by Jimmy Buffet, and I do so love this particular song. When I saw the video it reminded me of Abz & Chels (obviously wrong size & color... but the fun they must have!).

Animal house

This weekend was all about the animals (but then, isn't every day like that?).

My friend Leslie & her little girl Taylor accompanied me to the Luci Ctr. on Saturday morning.
Here Taylor is getting a smooch from the saddlebred, Miss Ellie...

We moved into the shade for a bit and visited with the holsteiner, Lady.

Lady is an attention hog that loves a good belly rub and a good butt-scratching...

A smooch from Lady...


Over to visit the boys. This retired thoroughbred is Will...

And an attempt to entice Pete the Clydesdale to eat, but he was

more interested in staying cool and swatting flies I think.

I put in a full day at the farm Saturday in the 90+ degree heat w/high humidity. I was worn out be the time I arrived home after 5pm.

Sunday, once I'd put my 4 hours in at the farm, I went home to change into dry clothes, pick up my neighbors Amy & Morgan, then it was off to Henry Co. to see the great dane puppies, now 4 weeks old and started to adventure away from their pen.

It doesn't take long for them to tire out.

Me personal favorite, the merle. Love those merles!

This little girl kept hiding behind the plumbing.

What is it about puppies and toes... must check out and bite on those toes!

Twofer one... Old Friends & Feeling Groovy

Once a month, there is a group of men that gets together to have dinner. They go to a different restaruant each month, typically avoiding your large chain-restaurants, and usually trying out new or hole-in-the-wall places.
This group of men have a common bond, well, several common bonds actually, and so they get together and discuss those bonds and anything else that happens to be worth sharing. None of these men are related to the others, not in the familial sense, yet they are all "brothers".
Brothers in the sense that they either still are, or were at one time, volunteer firefighters, all from the same department no less.
My husband is one of these brothers. This group has been meeting for the past couple of years I guess, and last night, I made the daring move to join them for dinner. Wives don't go to these dinners, but then, of the ones that are married, none of their wives were ever a firefighter. I was at one time, and I share many of those bonds with these men, so I felt I had a perfect right to be there. I've known these brothers anywhere from 10 to 20 years, depending on how long they'd been on the department. I've watched some go through marriages &/or divorces (some multiple times), watched their children grow up, watched some of them become grandfathers, watched them battle illnesses, watched them triumph in the face of adversity. Some I take with a grain of salt and have a takem-or-leavem attitude towards, and others I'm very fond of and very much consider them family.
As my own involvement with the department ended a few years ago, I rarely if ever see any of these brothers anymore, so it was nice to tag along last night and get a chance to see them again and listen to the news.
I can well imagine this group of brothers (and now one sister) still getting together 10 or even 20 years from now, just old friends.
Here's my song of the day. It's actually two songs for the price of one.

A name from the past

Yesterday morning as I was getting ready for work, I had the tv tuned to ABC, catching the last of the local news program before GMA came on. Just before the local news was ending, they came across with a breaking-news story about a bicyclist that had been struck by a car, at that time they didn't know if it was just an injury-accident or a fatality, and of course no names were available.
Once the news story was over, I didn't give it another thought, as I know very few people in that part of town, and certainly couldn't imagine any of them I did know riding a bike at that time of the morning.
So this morning, I once again turned on the local news program, and as I was shuffling through the house, headed to the kitchen to feed the dogs,as the anchors were telling of the days headlines in brief. They again mentioned that bicyclist who had indeed been killed, with more on the story in a few minutes. They mentioned his name and while I heard the first name clearly, the last name I only partially heard because of the noise the dogs and my flip-flops were making. But I heard enough of the last name that something caused me to cock my head and listen, as something started nagging at the back of my mind. What was it? I looked at the tv and they showed a clip of the bicyclist's brother, but didn't show his name. I looked at the man, there was no recognition there, so I turned away. But still, there was something...
A few minutes they came back to that story, this time in full detail. I stopped to listen closely this time, and let out an audible gasp when I heard the name this time. It was an unusual last name, one I've only heard of once before, back when I was in high school, and have never heard it since.
As it turns out, I went to school with the now deceased bicyclist. He graduated 2 years ahead of me, his brother 3 years, and his sister a year ahead of me. While I'm certain he and I never had any classes together, nor ever carried on a conversation for that matter, I knew full well who he was. His family had lived just two streets over from me, and he had dated a girl that lived a few doors up from us. Those two boys were the absolute epitome of "Preppy". I think if you'd looked preppy up in the dictionary back in the early to mid-80's, it would've shown their faces.
I watched the interview with his brother, and still didn't recognize him. I even went and took down my freshman yearbook to look up his picture, but the man today looks nothing like the boy in the 1982 photo, but then, how many of us do?
A feeling of sadness washed over me, even though I didn't really know the man, and hadn't seen him in over 25 years. I guess mostly it was for his little 8 year old son that would now grow up without his father.

Nostalgia Saturday

This is going back to April of 1988.
Moving day!!
My first real taste of freedom and independence from my parents. I'd just turned 20 a few weeks prior, and in that 8 week period since my birthday, I'd house-hunted, made an offer on, and purchased my first house. Not a bad accomplishment for one so young!
So here it was, moving day... time to move all my worldly possessions from my single bedroom in my parents house where'd I'd grown up, to my new home with 3 bedrooms, a basement, my very own bathroom that I didn't have to share with 3 other people, my own lawn, and best of all, my very own kitchen!! I was now going from a home I'd shared with my parents and sister, to my own home I'd be sharing with my future husband... a man I'd only met a few months prior. I was very excited to finally be striking out on my own, yet also rather nervous at the prospects of leaving the security of mom/dad, to the unknown world of living with someone that was still somewhat of a stranger.
Of course, that stranger and I are still together, so obviously I made the right choice. ;+)




My sister looks a bit giddy at the prospects of my leaving, doesn't she?

Friday photo challenge - Time

This weeks photo challenge is "TIME"...
I think we could call this photo: Dinner TIME, or needing a Bath TIME, or ready for Bed TIME.
This is my nephew Zach when he was about 18 mos. old +/-.

The holiday is over before it began

I mentioned last week that the husband and I were planning a day at Holiday World next month, but now it looks as if that isn't going to happen.
I went on-line yesterday to look a their ticket prices, and possibly buy them in advance, only to find out that the park won't even be open on the day we were planning on going. Drats!!
So then I checked on Kings Island, just north of Cincinnati, and it too will be closed. Darn it!!
My last resort was the Kentucky Kingdom, which is, figuratively speaking, right in our own backyard. A 20 minute drive from our house... you'd think that would have been our first choice, especially with the cost of gasoline. But, I've just never been that crazy about that park. I guess it has to do with the cost of admission vs. the size of the park and quantity/variety of rides that are offered.
I checked on my "last resort", only to discover that they too were closed. WTH?? What is going on? I've been to amusement park on weekdays late in August before, so why now are they suddenly all closed during the week?
Now I'm a bit bummed out. Our friends we'd talked into going with us suggested doing it on a Sunday, but my husband works on Sundays (although there's a slim chance he might be off the last one of that month), also Sundays are such busy days at the parks, they're more crowded and you have to wait in lines much longer, and too, I just really hate giving up my farm-day.
Sunday mornings at the farm are my chance to relax (no matter how hard I may work) and rejuvenate.... some people go to a spa or get a massage, I go to the farm.
So now I don't know whether to put off going to an amusement park 'til John has a day off later in Sept. or find something else to do. Decisions, decisions...

From the garden...

My rose-of-sharon finally bloomed a few weeks ago. They don't seem quite as full this year as in years past, and thought perhaps it was just my shrubs, but I noticed the other night as I walked the dog, that some others that are growing in our neighborhood, don't seem as full of blooms either, so it's not just mine.

Also notice the 6-foot+ tall tomato plants growing in the lower right corner of this picture...

They provide us some privacy along the back side of our yard in the summer... just wish they didn't shed so much or attract so many large bees!

If anybody knows what this next flower/plant is, please, clue me in!

When it started growing back in the spring, I felt pretty sure it was a flowering plant that was supposed to be there, but for the life of me couldn't remember what it was or what it's flowers would look like...

As summer has worn on, the plant has grown huge, and last night I'd finally come to the conclusion that it must be some kind of weed, and went out with the clippers to cut it down. Imagine my surprise, delight, and mostly, my relief!, at finding several buds on it, as in the first picture. When I went out this morning, I was thrilled that several had opened up...

This kind of reminds me of a hibiscus, but I don't think that's it. Any guesses???

My tomato plants (most of them anyway) are doing very well. A couple of them are over 6' tall (see the top photo). A couple have remained short, but I think that's simply because they're a low-growing variety. We've been eating fresh tomatoes for several weeks now, much to the chagrin of some of our friends. At first they were trickling in, one here and there, but now we're finally being inundated with 'maters and finally have enough excess that we're able to share, gladly!! The grape-tomatoes you don't even have to pick... just shake the bush a little and they fall to the ground.

More on being shy...

Now that I've blathered on about being phone & camera shy, here's another one for you...
Bathroom shy.
I admit, my husband seeing or hearing me go to the bathroom doesn't bother me. But I absolutely refuse to use the restroom with anybody else watching, and I don't care if they're friend, family, or stranger. I hate public restrooms, but they're a necessary evil in my life, 'cause sometimes you just gotta go! It's not even the cleanliness vs. dirtyness of the restroom I'm talking about, but the privacy issue. I don't like listening to what they're doing, and I certainly don't like them hearing me. And I really hate those stall doors that have gaps in them that allow people to see in. Hate them!!!
I've never understood these women (and forgive me girls if any of you fall into this category, but I just don't get it!!!!) that go in groups to the restroom. And if it's a single toilet in the room, they all stand around in there together, chatting, laughing it up, fixing their hair and make-up while they take turns using the toilet. I JUST DON'T GET IT!!?!?!?!?!?
When I was in elementary school, the bathrooms had several stalls, but typically only one stall had a door, all the others were doorless. What the heck was that all about? Were they afraid that the children would lock themselves in and not be able to get out? Fine then, hang a curtain across the doorway, something, anything! to provide some privacy. Just because we were children, that doesn't mean we didn't deserve some privacy. As it was, it's a wonder I didn't grow up to have either kidney or bladder issues. Because if I couldn't use the stall that had the door, then I simply refused to go. Many was the time I'd not use the restroom the entire day I was at school, or else wait 'til an hour after we'd gone as a group, then go to the teacher and ask to go "again"... let them think I had bladder control problems, I didn't care, I wanted my privacy.
I despised gym class in grades 7 - 10, not just because I'm not athletically gifted, but because of the cruel practice of making us shower in front of one another. I loathed this practice!! Who came up with the notion that communal showers were a good thing? And our jr. high locker room was the worst! The locker room was long and narrow, and the shower portion of it was like a big walk-in closet, dark and scary. There was a single toilet located past the showers, again with no door or curtain for privacy. The only good thing about the girls locker room is that whenever there was a basketball game, the visiting team always used the girls room (meaning boys in the girls locker room). The locker room and the girls public restroom was separated by an old wooden door that had an old-fashioned lock on it that required a skeleton key... this means there was a "peep hole" of sorts, and you could look through it into the visiting boys locker room and get an eyeful.
Okay, I'm going to stop blathering about shyness.
Think I'll include my song of the day here. Hard to believe this song was popular 25 years ago... where does the time go?

Too Shy

This may come as a big shock to some of you, but I'm actually a rather shy person.
Certainly not nearly as much as I was when I was a child, but still somewhat shy... I guess it just depends on the situation as to just how much of my shyness shows itself.
When blogging, it's easy to be anybody you want, say what you want, and put on a big show, but face to face is a whole different matter.
When I was a child, I think I would have rather suffered Chinese water torture, than to have anybody see or overhear me talking on a telephone (I know, I know, quite a difference from today's children). If for any reason I did have to talk on the telephone, I'd hide under a table or bury my face in a blanket... I suppose in a child's mind, if I couldn't see them, then they couldn't see me. Why was I so shy about talking on a phone? I have no idea! Obviously by the time I was old enough to start dating, I got over that phase in my life. I'm still not overly fond of sitting around and chit-chatting for the heck of it. I like my calls to be short and to the point.
Then there is the issue of being camera-shy. I know this is a "phobia" if you want to call it that, that I share with many people. Actually, I wouldn't say it's so much a phobia as just being insecure about one's self, and not wanting to see ourselves, regardless if we're dressed in our Sunday-best, or if we've got bed-head. I'm one of those people that feels I never (or at least, RARELY) ever looks good in a photograph, no matter how hard I try, to me my image almost always seems to look un-natural. My smile looks awkward and forced.
I look at my friends photos and they're always so darned photogenic, it's nauseating how good their pictures always turn out. She says the secret is only let people see the pictures that turn out good... sure, that's fine if you actually have photos that turn out good. Another friend emailed me photos of her daughter's birthday dinner and the children were all smiles. I've seen photos of her kids whether down and dirty on the farm or dressed up in evening wear, and always the photos are good.
Perhaps I'm a bit jealous. Well, envious anyways, at everyone elses ease at which they smile for the camera. I've tried in the past few years to loosen up and allow myself to be photographed more, but then I see the results, and I cringe.
At work, I often make videos for the families that bring me photos of their deceased family member. I look through the pictures they bring me. Some make me smile as they're really good and seem to tell a story of that persons life. Then there are those that bring me some seriously crappy photos and even a drivers license photo from time to time, simply because the deceased person didn't like having their picture taken, and that was all they could come up with. **Sigh**, when I encounter these situations, I always figure that will be me when things are all said and done. No decent photos to make a video from, because I shied away from the camera.
So I keep telling myself to chill-out and let others snap my picture. Thank goodness we're in the digital age. I think I'd better hone my photo-shop skills if I'm going to allow myself to be photographed more. ;)

Getting in the mood

The husband said something to me last night and it made me breath a sigh of relief. He said, "I'm finally starting to get pumped up about this luau."
Well hallelujah! It's about time!!
I was beginning to wonder if I was going to have to rope & hog-tie him to get him to attend, much less help me. I mean, for Pete's sake, we(I) have only been planning this for months... and talking about it for a really long time.
So now it's less than six weeks away, and I'm way beyond excited! I've been trying to gather the perfect array of music from the past 50 years or so and from several genres, so there'd be something for everyone. I know this song isn't really new, but since I've not been a faithful country music devotee in several years, it's new to me, and I'm absolutely loving this song.
It totally says what I feel!

We're all alone

Last night, after supper, I heard the sound of approaching sirens, getting louder and louder. Then I heard the diesel engine and the bloop-bloop of the ambulance as the driver was turning the sirens off as he turned into our neighborhood.
As usual, the first thing that passes through my mind (as well as my husband and many of our neighbors) is "Oh no, they're going to 'Mrs. Essus' house", because EMS seems to come on a semi-regular basis and it's almost always to her home. She's an elderly lady, two houses behind us, that lives alone. Everybody except Mrs. Essus feels she should be living in an assisted-living home, but she won't hear of it. So they vicious cycle of EMS coming to take her away continues...
So as usual, the husband and I go rushing out the front door and start walking quickly in her direction. But as her house came into view, we didn't see the ambulance. Odd, as I had been sure I'd seen it turn down her street. As we got to the corner, we peered down the street, but the ambulance was no where in sight. Oh no!, could it be? Oh please don't let it be...!
Now our fears turned to it being "Tommy". An elderly man who's been in some rather ill health of late. Everybody in the neighborhood just adores him, and ever since his health started declining about 6 weeks ago, we've all been on alert.
So now we picked up our pace and started walking to the next street, but as we approached, I could see Tommy's house and I said to the husband, "both of his front doors are closed, I don't think they're at his house". Once we got to that street corner, we breathed a sigh of relief that the ambulance wasn't immediately in sight. Okay, so where'd they go?
We peered down the street and saw it at the far end. Oh, I think they're at "Nina's" house. John wasn't really sure who she was and asked if she lived alone. I don't know the woman very well myself, only well enough to know she too was elderly and to know her when I saw her drive by and wave. We started walking that way. It suddenly occurred to me just how many elderly people lived in our tiny subdivision, and how many of them lived alone.
About half way down the street, I stopped to talk to one of the neighbors that was out front to confirm that it was indeed Nina's house. John kept on walking, to lend a hand to EMS if need be. While I was talking to the neighbor, "Jim", he informed me Nina had been having some health concerns of late, and confirmed that she did indeed live alone. Then he dropped a real bomb shell on me when he told me that Martha had died. What? When did that happen?
Martha was yet another of our elderly neighbors that lived alone. Good grief!!
She'd passed away about 6 weeks prior. Gee whiz!, why didn't somebody tell us?!?!?! I mean, not that we were close to the woman, and we rarely saw her, but still, it would be nice to know these things. As it turned out, Martha had no children, was a widow, and only had one older sister that was in a nursing home, and a couple of nephews. Not much family to speak of. It made me sad.
As Jim and I talked, we were discussing the elderly population in our neighborhood and how of the 88 homes (I think) in our subdivision, only about 18 were still owned/occupied by the original owners. Of those 18, John & I were the youngest, and we're not exactly spring chickens.
I joked that we were going to have to put one another on a daily call-circle to call one another and check in, to make sure we'd lived to see another day. I joked about it, but in all reality, it's probably going to come to that.
I often wonder what will become of John or I should after the other is gone.
It makes you realize how really all alone we are in the world.

Since I missed posting a song of the day yesterday, I'm posting another one here today.

In all my glory!

Yesterday was p.t. day. It's been two weeks since my last adjustment, and I almost called and cancelled, as I was feeling pretty good. But figured it was best to go in and get a fine-tune adjustment, perhaps to help fend off any aches or pains that may be lurking around the corner.
When I arrived, I thought for a moment that the place was closed. Hardly any cars were in the parking lot, and when I opened the door, it was so quiet inside. There was only one other patient, and so much of the staff had gone for the day. I suppose the fabulous weather we were experiencing had a lot of people playing hooky.
I signed in and went over to warm-up on the wobble chair. As I wobbled, I couldn't help but hear Dr. P talking (just general chit-chat) to the other patient. That patient was a man, probably in his mid to late 50's, zero hair on his head (unlike a photo that I've seen that shows him wearing a bad toupee), and there was something vaguely familiar about him. I felt I knew him, but wasn't quite sure. The man I was thinking he might be, I'd met once before and I'm fairly certain he was more slender than he now appeared. So was it him? Or did he just bare a resemblance to him? I don't remember the person I was associating him with having that nasally of a voice though. Hmmm...
I continued to listen to their conversation (it's not like I could ignore it, they were just a few feet away from me, and they weren't whispering), and cast an occasional glance at the man, trying to place him.
I noticed he seemed to glance at me as well from time to time. Was it because I had chuckled at something the doctor had said? Or was it because he too felt he'd seen me before and was trying to remember where/when? Or was it perhaps because he did indeed recognize me, and was mentally recalling everything he knew about me?
My mind was still turning over the fact that I was sure I'd seen him before, but where???
While I finished wobbling, Dr. P finally gave the other patient his adjustment. When finished, the man headed towards the exit, but stopped at the desk to make his next appointment. I stepped up to take his place on the exam table, proceeded to lie face-down and waited for Dr. P to do his thing. As the man was walking out the door, Dr. P called out, "I'll see you later 'Perry'!"
"Perry"? My head snapped up off the table! OMG!!!, could it be...???
I whispered to Dr. P, "was that Dr. Fein?"
Dr. P: Yeah, you know him?
Me: Uh, yeah. You sent me to see him last year to get a physical to get clearance for the MUA.
Dr. P: Oh yeah....
Okay, so now I knew. I'd been to see Dr. Fein once, over a year ago. He had put on some weight since I'd seen him, and his tan was much deeper. So I did recognize him. Did he recognize me? I think probably so. Do you really ever forget a person (especially of the opposite sex) once you've seen them in all their glory?
** as for the toupee, his picture in the physicians pictoral roster shows him sporting a really bad hair piece

I'm going to include my song of the day here, from the group Naked Eyes. The song is: Always Something There To Remind Me

Tell Me Where It Hurts

The director at the farm loaned me a book when I was there this weekend. Of course we're all animal lovers out there, and she'd loved the book and had already loaned it to several of the other volunteers. Apparently everybody that's read it so far has thoroughly enjoyed it, as I found a couple of notes tucked into the book that others had written upon reading it.
Just reading the dust jacket made me think it was a modern day version of "All Creatures, Great & Small".
I stretched out in the hammock on the deck and started reading.
By the time I'd gotten to page 9, I was getting teary-eyed.
By page 10, I was openly crying and grabbed my beach towel to wipe away the tears.
By page 26, I was chuckling, and by page 28, I was laughing out loud and wiping away tears. In fact I was laughing so hard, the neighbors across the street thought I was laughing at them for having bumped their daughters head on the car as they tried to strap her in her carseat.
By page 31, I once again was weeping, then by page 34 I was again laughing so hard, this time I started to choke.
Yes, it's a book that will take you on an emotional rollercoaster.
I finally had to put the book down for a while to go fix dinner and do some laundry. Later I settled in on the swing and continued reading. Long about page 70, I started crying so hard, my nose was running, my shoulders heaving up and down. My neighbors were just returning from their evening out and saw that I was in distress. I struggled to get myself together and thought I had composed myself, when my neighbor walked over to see what the matter was. I started to tell her and then started crying all over again...
You see, the veterinarian who wrote the book was telling about a patient that had come into see him. The dog, a Great Dane, was having problems. Before the vet had even asked the second question of the dog's symptoms, I knew exactly what was wrong with it. It was a problem I knew of only too well, and everything we had gone through with Kelsey 5 years ago, suddenly came rushing back at me as if it had only happened yesterday. The more I read, the more vivid my own memories became, and I cried that much harder. While I did my best to dab at the tears before they fell, once I'd composed myself a second time, I looked down and saw that several had landed on the open book, splattering on the pages.
When I opened the book today, I saw where the tears had dried, but caused the paper to wrinkle slightly. I guess that's a lasting testimate to the emotions the book brought out in me.
Anyone that has a pet can appreciate this book. We've all been there with the neurotic pet, the "exotic disease" that turns out to be something very simple, the dog-parent that will go to the ends of the earth for their 4-legged child, and the decisions we have to weigh regarding our bank account vs. the worth of the animal.
The name of the book is "Tell Me Where It Hurts" by Dr. Nick Trout

Weekend in review

Enquiring minds want to know: Why do the police seem to have cart blanche to disobey the rules of the road? They rarely use turn signals, they're almost always speeding, they weave in and out of traffic, they tailgate... and I'm not even talking about while they're pursuing someone. All this is done without flashing lights or blaring sirens. What gives them the right to drive like this? If we do it, we get pulled over (if caught). It's almost as if they're flaunting their abuse of power. It pisses me off!!

We had dinner with the neighbors Friday evening. Cooked out over the grill, dinner was delicious! Afterwards, we played games in the backyard, cornhole toss, and hill-billy golf (or bola "sp?" toss). Then later sat around the fire pit. A fun and relaxing end to a hectic week.

Saturday I went to get my allergy shot, and while I attempted to wait the obligatory 1/2 hour afterwards, a child started screaming and it just grated on my nerves so bad I couldn't take it anymore, so I left after only 12 minutes. Three other people also got up and walked out at the same time (who'd walked in the same time I had).
Back home, I slapped a new bag on the old vacuum cleaner (my newer vacuum crapped out on me recently, so I had to revert to my old reliable, Hoover upright), and set about vacuuming the carpets, the hallway, the a/c return vent, and wherever else I saw a tumbleweed of dog hair blowing along. Olivia's crate is up against a wall, and I could see that quite a bit of dog hair had accumulated back there, so I pulled the colossal crate away from the wall and reached back with the wand to suck it up. Mind you, even empty, this crate is very heavy and it's all I can do to slide it a few inches. Once I'd finished vacuuming as far as I could reach, I slid the crate back into place, the whole time thinking that it seemed to weigh twice what it had when I had slid it out. Once I finally had it settled back into place I stepped back and realized that indeed, the crate had gained weight... Olivia was standing in the middle of her crate, as that offered her the best vantage point to supervise me cleaning behind the crate. I hadn't noticed her standing there when I moved the crate back. It's a wonder my back didn't give out on me again!
That afternoon was hotter than blazes! I spent my time enjoying the pool. It rained sometime during the night, stormed actually, but I'll be darned if I ever heard it. Slept right through the whole thing.
Sunday morning, up early, and out to the farm. The day started off overcast as if it might storm again. It was also muggy, but once the sun finally broke through and chased the clouds away, the humidity also went away, and it turned out to be a beautiful day. It turned out to be a day of learning for me, which is good, I like learning new things.
After an especially bad few days last weekend, Crazy seemed to be doing quite a bit better this week. We gave him a bath and cleaned him up. It was recently discovered that one of the ponies also has cushings disease, but that is the least of his worries. Thunder, who is one of the most beautiful horses there (in my opinion), is also diabetic. The director commented as we were getting ready to turn him out to pasture how fat he was. I just shook my head and said, "I'm not seeing what you're seeing. He looks great to me, I don't think he looks fat at all." And true, his sides (or waist line as I like to think of it) aren't really overweight. She lifted his mane and had me feel the crest of his neck and finally I saw and felt it. Thunder stores his fat in his neck, and this pony's neck looked nearly as big as the Clydesdale's. Although I hate to say it, it does seem to give his neck a pretty arch to it, but it is unhealthy, and I'd rather see it slender and in good health.
Later that morning, the director gave me a lesson in using the lunge line. She put Danny Boy on the line and we went to the indoor arena. First she had me stand next to her as she worked him in a counter-clockwise direction, and explained everything she was doing, where to stand, etc., etc. Once she'd stopped him, I thought the session was over, but then she turned him around and then handed the line to me... oooh, I was a nervous wreck and very excited all at the same time. She stayed beside me, giving me direction. She held the whip, (not to worry, she didn't use it on the horse... else I'd have probably walked out and never gone back) and let me concentrate on holding the line and my body position in relation to Danny Boy. It was a lot to take in, but it was neat. She praised me, I thanked her. She truly is a mentor, always willing to answer question, no matter how simplistic they may seem to her. She's very patient, and such a wealth of knowledge and information that she's only too willing to share.
A great morning at the farm. Back home, I sat in the swing for a while with Olivia lying at my feet watching the world go by. There was such a breeze blowing, and with the lack of humidity,I felt it was too cool to enjoy the pool, so opted for stretching out in the hammock with a new book to read. But it didn't take long to start baking, so I eventually got in the pool which was actually very pleasant, made better when the husband came home and enjoyed it with me.
It was a great weekend!