I just had to get up from my desk and walk over to my office door and look to make sure someone hadn't put up a "do not disturb" sign. I couldn't find one, so I can only chalk it up to bad manners.
I know I'm not s'posed to blog about this 8-hour stretch of my daily life, but something has happened today (and not for the first time) and it just really, kindly, aggravates the tar out of me. I'm left here alone, I mean completely alone at work, and everybody that left never bothered to say, "good-bye", "I'm leaving now", "kiss my ass", "fare thee well" or anything. What the heck is that all about??
It's as if I don't even exist around here. It's not the being left alone that bothers me, it's the lack of an exit-greeting that perturbs me. I'd have been happy with them calling up the stairwell to say, "I'm outta here!" or a simple "Toodles", but I got nothing, nadda, zilch.
I wasn't on the phone when they left, so it's not like they'd might've feared interrupting me. They had to walk right past my office door to leave, so it's not as if it would have been a major inconvenience to them.
I mean seriously now folks, is a simple "goodbye" asking for too much?
Whatever happened to manners?
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Potential!
I saw this quote on MountainGirl's blog this morning, and I just had to copy and post it here as a lead-in for this blog...
"One's life is not as fixed as one believes. Surprises may lie in store for you, the unexpected often tends to happen, sometimes bringing in its train the most delightful change in one's life or circumstances." Elizabeth Aston
"One's life is not as fixed as one believes. Surprises may lie in store for you, the unexpected often tends to happen, sometimes bringing in its train the most delightful change in one's life or circumstances." Elizabeth Aston
Over the weekend, I attended a 3-day clinic (work-shop) held at the farm where I volunteer. The clinic was taught by a wonderful, world renowned horse trainer, Alexandra Kurland. In her clinics, she teaches the clicker-method of positive reinforcement for horse training. There were a lot of "a-ha moments" for several of us throughout the course. One participant even stated the very first day that he was there as a skeptic. I dare say by the end of the course, there were no skeptics left.
As for myself, I attended the clinic for two reasons. #1) I hoped to learn from the class perhaps a better way of training my dogs (or future dogs I may get), and #2) I wanted to learn how to better handle and interact with the horses at the farm.
Also, as we were allowed to choose which horse we got to work with, I of course chose Sampson, my most favorite horse at the farm. I was very much excited at the prospect of working one on one with him. When my first opportunity finally came on day two, I learned something about him that I'd not previously known, he's not a confident horse. That's not to say that he isn't as smart or curious as some of the other horses, but that he hesitated when it came to having this crowd of strange people stare at him and the strange barrier put up in the doorway of his stall, and I had to work with him (and will continue to do so) to help build his confidence. Also, going into this class, I expected we'd learn how to train the horse to walk forward, back-up, stand still, and perhaps pick an object up off the ground. It has truly opened my eyes as to how very intelligent these animals are, how they learn, and just how much they are capable of doing. We even learned of some miniature horses that have been trained as guide-horses, to help blind persons, just as a seeing-eye dog would. So as we watched the different horses being worked with, and the different levels of enthusiasm, curiosity, confidence, and how quickly some progressed from one thing to another, it became amazing the endless possibilities that laid ahead for all of us, humans and equine alike.
There is one overly-anxious, very intelligent pony on the farm that is quick to learn, but because of some behavior issues, his lessons had to be modified a bit. And after we went back upstairs to discuss what we'd learned and to share our thoughts, the instructor made the comment that that particular horse may never become a suitable mount for use as a therapy-riding horse, but maybe instead he could be trained and put to use in other areas of therapy.
A few minutes later, a light came on in my head and I couldn't hardly get my idea formed into words fast enough to share my thoughts with the others... what if we start working with the handful of horses that have been retired from the program for one reason or another and are no longer suitable for riding, but might still have several good years ahead of them, and train them to do other things? That way they can still be used for therapy, just not riding-therapy, and can still be of use to the center and it's clients. We can use the horses to show clients with certain injuries/disabilities that just because they aren't useful for their original "job" anymore, doesn't mean they have no purpose in life. They can still lead a productive life. This lead to a discussion of possibly creating a whole new program at the farm for clients that perhaps aren't physically capable of riding a horse, or who perhaps have a fear of riding, but can still benefit from the therapeutic horses.
On the drive home last night with one of the volunteers who'd carpooled with me, I told her that as excited as I'd initially been about working with Sampson (who is still very much an actively ridden horse in the program), I was now even more excited about the prospect of working with one of the retired horses and seeing where we could go with it.
I can hardly wait for Sunday to get here so I can go back to the farm, and as I'm on vacation next week, I've no doubt I'll be spending nearly every day out there as well.
Friday, April 17, 2009
10 weeks!
I was just asked to be an attendant in a red-neck wedding in 10 weeks. I'm not saying red-neck to be derogatory towards the couple, it really is going to be a red-neck wedding. Outdoors, out in the country, dress casual, cook-out afterwards. I was told we could go barefoot, wear flip-flops, cut-offs, tube tops (won't happen!!) or whatever, as long as we weren't naked. Seriously, red-neck is the theme of this wedding. I was asked to design the wedding invitations and I was given leeway to be as red-neck as I wanted. I think I was red-neck enough to do Jeff Foxworthy proud. ;)
Crap, 10 weeks!! Now I really do need to get serious and see if I can't manage to lose a few pounds between now and then.
Crap, 10 weeks!! Now I really do need to get serious and see if I can't manage to lose a few pounds between now and then.
Facebook...
Back a couple of years ago, when Facebook was in it's infancy, before it became "all the rage", I set myself up an account. I deleted it about 5 minutes later because honestly, it just seemed like too much work. There weren't many people on there that I knew, and the few that were I either saw them frequently & already knew what was going on in their lives, or else they were people that I really wasn't that interested in "bonding" with. Besides, I spend enough time on the computer as it is, I didn't need one more reason. I deleted the account, everything seemed all good and fine.
Over the next couple of years, once every 3 - 6 months, I'd get an "invite" emailed to me from Facebook because some acquaintance wanted me to join. I deleted the invite and life went on. My closest friends are all on there now, and they've tried their best to get me to join. I've resisted their cajoling, and I've managed to avoid being sucked into the Facebook movement thus far.
All of a sudden, in the past 24 hours, it's as if I've won some popularity contest in cyber-space, because as of 1pm today, I've gotten 3 invites from former classmates to join Facebook, and another 13 emails from Facebook informing me that "so and so" has added me as a friend. While all 16 people did go to my school, only 14 of them were in my graduating class, one was ahead of me, one behind me. Of those 14 people, I have somewhat kept in contact over the past 3 years since we had our 20th reunion with 13 of them. I say somewhat because I do have an email address for them, but they never answered any of the emails I sent, so I don't know if they ignored my emails, or if perhaps I had the wrong address. There was one in our class I never had an address for, and never for the two that graduated with other classes.
I even had a couple of my close friends that are on Facebook do a search for me, just to see if maybe somebody had set up a bogus account in my name, but they couldn't find anything.
I feel kinda bad ignoring all these people, as I don't want to hurt their feelings, but honestly, I just don't have any interest in doing Facebook at this time.
So I ask you good people, what the heck is going on????
Over the next couple of years, once every 3 - 6 months, I'd get an "invite" emailed to me from Facebook because some acquaintance wanted me to join. I deleted the invite and life went on. My closest friends are all on there now, and they've tried their best to get me to join. I've resisted their cajoling, and I've managed to avoid being sucked into the Facebook movement thus far.
All of a sudden, in the past 24 hours, it's as if I've won some popularity contest in cyber-space, because as of 1pm today, I've gotten 3 invites from former classmates to join Facebook, and another 13 emails from Facebook informing me that "so and so" has added me as a friend. While all 16 people did go to my school, only 14 of them were in my graduating class, one was ahead of me, one behind me. Of those 14 people, I have somewhat kept in contact over the past 3 years since we had our 20th reunion with 13 of them. I say somewhat because I do have an email address for them, but they never answered any of the emails I sent, so I don't know if they ignored my emails, or if perhaps I had the wrong address. There was one in our class I never had an address for, and never for the two that graduated with other classes.
I even had a couple of my close friends that are on Facebook do a search for me, just to see if maybe somebody had set up a bogus account in my name, but they couldn't find anything.
I feel kinda bad ignoring all these people, as I don't want to hurt their feelings, but honestly, I just don't have any interest in doing Facebook at this time.
So I ask you good people, what the heck is going on????
Thursday, April 16, 2009
You can't judge a book by it's cover!
In case you've been living in a cave these past few days, without benefit of tv, radio, email or even newspaper, then have a look at this video (sorry, the embedding was disabled, so you'll have to go to Youtube to watch it)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d-KiGva9dV4
This contestant on Britain's Got Talent (British version of American Idol) absolutely took everyone by surprise. Her performance will give you goose-bumps and the judges comments afterwards will bring tears to your eyes. And truly, it does prove that you shouldn't judge a book by it's cover!
I can't wait to hear and see how things turn out for her. Go Susan!!!!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d-KiGva9dV4
This contestant on Britain's Got Talent (British version of American Idol) absolutely took everyone by surprise. Her performance will give you goose-bumps and the judges comments afterwards will bring tears to your eyes. And truly, it does prove that you shouldn't judge a book by it's cover!
I can't wait to hear and see how things turn out for her. Go Susan!!!!
Mmm, Mmm, Good!!
I made a pot of white chili last night, and it was just about the best darned white chili I think I've ever eaten in my life, it I do say so myself!! It was a little too hot, spicy hot that is, for John, so it's mine, ALL mine!!! I brought some of it for lunch today, and I'm thinking it's even better re-heated. **slurp**
I always thought Tumbleweed Restaurant had the best white chili, but I'm thinking now I've got one over on them.
Now, if I can just remember exactly how I made it so I can write it down in my cookbook...
I always thought Tumbleweed Restaurant had the best white chili, but I'm thinking now I've got one over on them.
Now, if I can just remember exactly how I made it so I can write it down in my cookbook...
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Another nostalgic moment
I was reading a blog over at greeneyedmomster and something she wrote about her dog coming to her defense whenever she and her husband wrestled around, reminded me of what one of our danes used to do, or should I say, not do...
Smokey, our first Great Dane, who I firmly believe would've laid down his life to defend our home, or either one of us against an attacker, for reasons I'll never understand, would always take my husband's side if he and I were wrestling or "play fighting".
Many were the times when John would fall asleep in the recliner and when it came time to go to bed, I'd have a difficult time trying to rouse him to get up and go to bed. After much fussing at him, I'd finally have to physically shake him to try and get him up. Whenever I did this, Smokey would go nuts and come to his daddy's aide, as if I were really hurting John and he needed protecting.
However, if the roles were reversed and John tried to shake me to wake me up or if I shrieked for any reason, instead of Smokey coming to my defense, he seemed to prefer helping John go after me, and the crazy dog would start pouncing at me, growling and snapping (not really viciously, but a stranger wouldn't know that) at me.
It got to the point when we were out in public, if we had the dog with us and we were having a disagreement about something, in order to get off the subject, John would suddenly start saying, "Ow, you're hurting me!" and Smokey would once again "turn" on me. John seemed to get a kick out of Smokey's devotion to helping his daddy, even if his daddy wasn't the one who needed help.
Crazy mixed up dog!!
Smokey, our first Great Dane, who I firmly believe would've laid down his life to defend our home, or either one of us against an attacker, for reasons I'll never understand, would always take my husband's side if he and I were wrestling or "play fighting".
Many were the times when John would fall asleep in the recliner and when it came time to go to bed, I'd have a difficult time trying to rouse him to get up and go to bed. After much fussing at him, I'd finally have to physically shake him to try and get him up. Whenever I did this, Smokey would go nuts and come to his daddy's aide, as if I were really hurting John and he needed protecting.
However, if the roles were reversed and John tried to shake me to wake me up or if I shrieked for any reason, instead of Smokey coming to my defense, he seemed to prefer helping John go after me, and the crazy dog would start pouncing at me, growling and snapping (not really viciously, but a stranger wouldn't know that) at me.
It got to the point when we were out in public, if we had the dog with us and we were having a disagreement about something, in order to get off the subject, John would suddenly start saying, "Ow, you're hurting me!" and Smokey would once again "turn" on me. John seemed to get a kick out of Smokey's devotion to helping his daddy, even if his daddy wasn't the one who needed help.
Crazy mixed up dog!!
Nostalgic moment for the week - I survived it!
Most of my nostalgic moments tend to reflect on happy thoughts from my past. But I'd like to take a moment to reflect on childhood as a whole and some not-so-happy experiences, which, despite having endured them (or maybe because I endured them?!), I survived to adulthood.
It seems every few months, if not weeks, we keep hearing on the news about some school-shooting by some teen who was picked-on or not a part of the popular crowd. I think that excuse is a bit of a cop-out. Hell, if every kid that was picked-on took a gun to school to "settle the score", there would be a shooting every single day in every single school, by a large percentage of the student body.
Trust me, I was one of the picked-on, and I turned out pretty well I think. Maybe even being picked-on made me a better person, who's to say? Or maybe the torture I endured is why I'm often viewed as a shy, hardened, less than caring, jaded, introverted, cold-hearted bitch.
From early on, I was picked-on by the other students for any of the following reasons, or even a combination of them:
*for being taller than most if not all the other kids in my class, even the boys
*for having an unusual and often mispronounced last name
*for being teachers pet
*for not being good at sports or very coordinated
*for being the last kid to be picked up on the bus route and therefore having to practically beg somebody to move over and allow me a couple of inches on the edge of their seat so I could perch there 'til we arrived at school or else because the only seat available on the bus was next to one of "the Lamont twins" (another story for another time)
*for not being assertive
*for being quiet
*for not smiling (would you smile if you had to endure years of being treated like crap?)
*for having a bad-hair day, pretty much everyday of my life
*for being a picky eater
*for.... you get the idea
Then there were the teachers. They weren't exactly saints either. It's pretty sad when the very people that are supposed to setting an example and teaching the students are just as guilty of deliberately picking on a student. If the other students see teachers doing it, then it must be okay for them as well, right?
Um, no!!
I can remember one teacher singling me out because I wore long pants to school when the weather was warm instead of wearing shorts. Geesh, she made such an issue out of it.
I can remember the P.E. teacher all through out elementary school picking on me because I wasn't athletically gifted as she felt I should be because of my height. She had no qualms about singling me out for not being able to run as fast as the others, do a pull-up, catch a ball, hit a ball. She was an absolute bitch!!
I don't know what the heck I was thinking, but at one point in elementary school I had the audacity to think I had a chance, and I dared to try out for cheer leading. The teacher that was in charge of the cheerleaders had no problem in ridiculing me for not being able to do a perfect cartwheel. Needless to say I dropped out of try-outs after 10 minutes.
I can understand that my last name was unusual and difficult to pronounce the first time a person sees it, but honestly, once they were told how it was pronounced, it shouldn't have been that difficult. But numerous were the teachers that botched the pronunciation, time and time again, and each time would send all the other kids in class to fits of laughter while I wanted to crawl under my desk and hide. It's as if the teachers didn't care to make an effort to get it right.
Another time, I can remember recovering from a bad cold, not only were my lips very chapped, so was my nose. The more I wiped my nose, the more chapped and sore it became. I can recall an occasion I got so desperate to relieve the discomfort, I applied chap-stick to the edge of my nose and the lip area below the nose, only to have the teacher single me out and ridicule me, accusing me of not paying attention to the lecture instead preferring to stick chap-stick up my nose.
I often felt like the butt of every ones jokes, students and teachers alike.
Back then, and even now as I look back on the numerous occasions, I can't help but wonder what I did to deserve the cruel taunts, teasing, and ridicule? It's no wonder students nowadays lash out in desperation. Of course I don't agree with their tactics, but I understand the pain they're going through. But we have to learn to deal with the bullies in life. Take it in stride and learn to turn our hurt and anger into something productive.
It seems every few months, if not weeks, we keep hearing on the news about some school-shooting by some teen who was picked-on or not a part of the popular crowd. I think that excuse is a bit of a cop-out. Hell, if every kid that was picked-on took a gun to school to "settle the score", there would be a shooting every single day in every single school, by a large percentage of the student body.
Trust me, I was one of the picked-on, and I turned out pretty well I think. Maybe even being picked-on made me a better person, who's to say? Or maybe the torture I endured is why I'm often viewed as a shy, hardened, less than caring, jaded, introverted, cold-hearted bitch.
From early on, I was picked-on by the other students for any of the following reasons, or even a combination of them:
*for being taller than most if not all the other kids in my class, even the boys
*for having an unusual and often mispronounced last name
*for being teachers pet
*for not being good at sports or very coordinated
*for being the last kid to be picked up on the bus route and therefore having to practically beg somebody to move over and allow me a couple of inches on the edge of their seat so I could perch there 'til we arrived at school or else because the only seat available on the bus was next to one of "the Lamont twins" (another story for another time)
*for not being assertive
*for being quiet
*for not smiling (would you smile if you had to endure years of being treated like crap?)
*for having a bad-hair day, pretty much everyday of my life
*for being a picky eater
*for.... you get the idea
Then there were the teachers. They weren't exactly saints either. It's pretty sad when the very people that are supposed to setting an example and teaching the students are just as guilty of deliberately picking on a student. If the other students see teachers doing it, then it must be okay for them as well, right?
Um, no!!
I can remember one teacher singling me out because I wore long pants to school when the weather was warm instead of wearing shorts. Geesh, she made such an issue out of it.
I can remember the P.E. teacher all through out elementary school picking on me because I wasn't athletically gifted as she felt I should be because of my height. She had no qualms about singling me out for not being able to run as fast as the others, do a pull-up, catch a ball, hit a ball. She was an absolute bitch!!
I don't know what the heck I was thinking, but at one point in elementary school I had the audacity to think I had a chance, and I dared to try out for cheer leading. The teacher that was in charge of the cheerleaders had no problem in ridiculing me for not being able to do a perfect cartwheel. Needless to say I dropped out of try-outs after 10 minutes.
I can understand that my last name was unusual and difficult to pronounce the first time a person sees it, but honestly, once they were told how it was pronounced, it shouldn't have been that difficult. But numerous were the teachers that botched the pronunciation, time and time again, and each time would send all the other kids in class to fits of laughter while I wanted to crawl under my desk and hide. It's as if the teachers didn't care to make an effort to get it right.
Another time, I can remember recovering from a bad cold, not only were my lips very chapped, so was my nose. The more I wiped my nose, the more chapped and sore it became. I can recall an occasion I got so desperate to relieve the discomfort, I applied chap-stick to the edge of my nose and the lip area below the nose, only to have the teacher single me out and ridicule me, accusing me of not paying attention to the lecture instead preferring to stick chap-stick up my nose.
I often felt like the butt of every ones jokes, students and teachers alike.
Back then, and even now as I look back on the numerous occasions, I can't help but wonder what I did to deserve the cruel taunts, teasing, and ridicule? It's no wonder students nowadays lash out in desperation. Of course I don't agree with their tactics, but I understand the pain they're going through. But we have to learn to deal with the bullies in life. Take it in stride and learn to turn our hurt and anger into something productive.
Monday, April 13, 2009
What's good for the goose...?
Is there anybody out there that hasn't seen the movie or read the book "Marley & Me" by now?
I read the book a few years ago, laughed out loud at some parts, sobbed like crazy at the end.
The husband usually makes fun of me for carrying on in such a way when I'm reading a book.
Last evening, some of his family members invited us over to watch the movie. I declined.
#1) it had been a long day and I was tired
#2) my contacts were drying out and making it difficult to keep my eyes focused on anything, much less a 2 hour movie
#3) there were a couple of shows on TLC I wanted to watch
#4) I hate watching movies with his family because it never fails, no matter how good the movie is, 4 out of 5 of them will fall asleep and I'll be sitting there watching it alone and listening to them snore.
#5) there really wasn't enough room at the persons house they were gathering at for so many people to gather around the tv comfortably for 2 hours. Besides, I'd read the book, I knew how it would end.
So...
The husband came home late last night. I have a vague recollection of being startled awake when he came home and came to bed, planting a kiss on my face.
This morning as I was preparing to leave for work, I woke him up so he could move his car which was blocking mine. As he was getting dressed he admitted he'd dozed through the movie, but had heard the last few minutes of it and had cried. He said he had to come home and hug all three of our dogs.
Uh-huh, okay. So it's fine for him to be moved to tears over a movie, but when I cry over a book it's silly?
I read the book a few years ago, laughed out loud at some parts, sobbed like crazy at the end.
The husband usually makes fun of me for carrying on in such a way when I'm reading a book.
Last evening, some of his family members invited us over to watch the movie. I declined.
#1) it had been a long day and I was tired
#2) my contacts were drying out and making it difficult to keep my eyes focused on anything, much less a 2 hour movie
#3) there were a couple of shows on TLC I wanted to watch
#4) I hate watching movies with his family because it never fails, no matter how good the movie is, 4 out of 5 of them will fall asleep and I'll be sitting there watching it alone and listening to them snore.
#5) there really wasn't enough room at the persons house they were gathering at for so many people to gather around the tv comfortably for 2 hours. Besides, I'd read the book, I knew how it would end.
So...
The husband came home late last night. I have a vague recollection of being startled awake when he came home and came to bed, planting a kiss on my face.
This morning as I was preparing to leave for work, I woke him up so he could move his car which was blocking mine. As he was getting dressed he admitted he'd dozed through the movie, but had heard the last few minutes of it and had cried. He said he had to come home and hug all three of our dogs.
Uh-huh, okay. So it's fine for him to be moved to tears over a movie, but when I cry over a book it's silly?
A comedy of errors
What a weekend! It was one thing after another, and I can only describe it as a comedy of errors...
Saturday morning I was to participate in the MS Walk (multiple sclerosis) at Waterfront Park.
Now, the website stated that registration started at 9am and the walk started at 10am. And the paperwork they sent me said that wasn't right, that registration started at 8am and the walk at 9am. Let me just say that they were both wrong. Or maybe that they were both partially right.
I watched the weather report to find out the expected temperature. It was currently about 45 degrees, but expected to drop a couple of degrees before it made the slow climb into the low 60's much later in the day. I knew there would be a cool breeze coming in off the river, so I dressed in a pair of long underwear under my sweatpants, a long-sleeved t-shirt, and a zip-up hooded sweat-shirt. I was a bit chilly when I stepped outside, but I knew once I got walking I should be alright.
As I approached W/F Park, I wasn't really sure where they would be set up, so I was scouting for a place to park that would be somewhat centrally located. I had just passed the purple-parking lot on River Road when I saw a mini-van pass me that had an "MS" logo on it's side and it turned onto the purple lot. So I turned around and followed, parked my car and prepared to get Olivia out. The time was 7:44am.
As I got ready to get her out, I thought to myself, "I should get my paperwork and donations ready so I don't have to try and dig them out while holding on to Olivia", so I started looking for my paperwork and couldn't find it. No where could I find it! Crap!!! I had left it at home!!
I had to drive all the way back home, get the paperwork & donations and drive all the way back down to the park. I arrived back at the W/F and parked in the same spot as before, the time was now about 8:20am.
As I parked my car and walked with Olivia towards the table that was set up, I thought to myself, "there aren't very many cars or people here, they've either got a really low turn-out (there was only 1 other car in the lot) or everybody is parking elsewhere and walking over here".
I approached the few people standing around the table and asked, "are you all here for the MS Walk?" They confirmed they were. "Is this where we sign-in?" They confirmed it was NOT. No, they were they 1/2-way point refreshment table. Sign-in was over at the festival plaza (like I know specifically where that is!?!?!?). I figured it to be in the general area of downtown Louisville so instead of loading my dog into the car and driving in that direction, we started off on foot and made the 1-mile trek (as the sidewalk twists and turns) to get there.
We arrived at the sign-in tent after making our way through the throngs of people and lots of other dogs, the time was now about 8:40am. I signed in, then joined others going from booth to booth collecting the free give-away stuff. T-shirts, ink pens, sun-visors, etc. Darn!, now I was loaded down with all this crap and I'd have to carry it on the walk as my car was too far away to put it in there.
People kept approaching Olivia and petting her and of course asking why she was wearing the funny looking mask. Once again, my little angel was on her best behavior... well, almost. There was only one little incident and I don't even really blame her. Some idiot woman walked up with a chihuahua wrapped in a towel and bent down so her dog was nose to nose with Olivia. (Is this the sign of an intelligent woman? I think not!!). While Olivia did behave despite having a dog shoved in her face, once the woman had stood back up and stepped away, Olivia now wanted to inspect the dog closer. She couldn't see the dog, but her sniffer told her the general location of the dog, so Olivia put her paws on the woman and stood up on her hind legs to get a better look. I pulled her away, nobody was hurt, I apologized profusely and felt like telling the woman to grow a brain, but instead just walked Olivia a safe distance away.
9am had come and gone by now and we were anxious to get started. The dj that was playing loud music announced the walk would start about 10 minutes after 9. We positioned ourselves near the starting line and waited and waited and waited some more. By now, I was starting to get pretty darned warm. Finally, some yoga-dancing woman got on stage and declared we all needed to warm up before starting the walk, and she proceeded to do a 20 minute yoga-dance to limber up. A couple of unencumbered souls in the crowd tried to follow along with her movements, but most of us just stood around looking at one another and rolling our eyes while looking at our watches. Once yoga-girl finished dancing, then a tv anchor from a local station took the stage and tried to do a pep-rally to get us all motivated. I think the only thing that would've really motivated us is if they had said, "GO!"
By the time she finished talking, it was about 10am, and we all headed off down Witherspoon Street.
At first it was slow going until I could get Olivia out of the middle of the crowd and over to the edge. Our long legs out-paced the majority of the walkers that had started ahead of us. At the 1/2-way point, we turned onto the purple-lot and I took a brief moment to stop and deposit the bag of goodies I was carrying and to rid myself of my sweat-shirt. I was so miserably hot by now, if I could have, I would've rid myself of the long underwear as well, but instead, kept my pants on and kept walking.
We finally crossed the finish line and basically did a U-turn and walked back to the car. For all practical purposes, Olivia and I basically walked the course twice that morning. We were tired.
After we arrived back home, I knew I had a full day planned for Sunday and wouldn't have time to get laundry done, so I set about doing it all on Saturday. In between loads, I laid in the hammock and took short cat-naps. Before dozing, I applied SPF-50 (FIFTY!!!!). I even reapplied a second time after one of my many trips inside to do another load of laundry.
I spent about 3 1/2 hours outside, but mind you, it wasn't non-stop as I was in and out of the house during that time. Regardless, I ended the day with a deep dark shade of red, sun-burn.
SPF-50! I should've been able to sunbathe ON the sun itself with protection numbered that high. I can't imagine how red my burn would've been had I not worn the sunscreen.
Of course, I have a really fat neck, and regardless of how much I try to keep my head tilted back, the rolls of fat on my neck create big white rings that look utterly ridiculous, so I've been walking around all weekend with a scarf tied around my neck like I'm trying to hide a hickey or something. Grrr!
So how was your weekend???
Friday, April 10, 2009
"He's back!!" or "Paybacks"
We ate Mexican for dinner last night and I'm paying for it today.
No, not indigestion nor any kind of problem "south of my border".
My arm and shoulder hurts.
I'm sure you're all asking "How can Mexican food make your arm and shoulder hurt?"
Please, allow me to explain...
The husband didn't have the luxury of driving a bulk truck yesterday while at work, but was instead on a regular delivery route. This meant more physical labor for him and longer hours. I had every intention of fixing "breakfast" for dinner, but I was waiting 'til he called to tell me he was on his way before starting it. Long about 5:30 he called to inform me he was just headed back to the plant, and it would be an hour or more before he got home. He then proceeded to tell me he'd delivered to El Nopal Mexican Restaurant that day and had seen David, our favorite waiter, the only non-Hispanic waiter in the Mexican restaurant system I do believe. Don't get me wrong, he's not our favorite because he's the only Caucasian worker, he's simply our favorite because he's darned good at what he does.
We started frequenting El Nopal about 18 years ago (+/-) when it first opened. I'm not sure exactly how many years ago it was when David started working there, but once we discovered him, we always made it a point to ask for a table in his section (yes, even if it meant the smoking section, I was willing to suffer through just for his service). After a few years, David left and went to work at El Tarasaco. E.T. was a little bit further to drive, but we followed our waiter. He's not the first waiter/waitress we've followed from restaurant to restaurant. We're very loyal to our restaurant service professionals that we feel do a good job.
After a couple of years, David left E.T. We'd heard he transferred to the other E.T. out in J-town, but that was just a little further than we wanted to drive, and if we drove that far, we really felt like we'd be stalking him. So after that, we'd just mentally toss a coin as to which place we'd go if we were in the mood for Mexican. Well, it's been over 2 years since we'd seen David.
As I was saying... John said he had delivered to El Nopal and who did he see? David! Yes, David was back. So we decided spur of the moment to go there for dinner.
It was nearing 7pm before John finally showed up and I don't think we left the restaurant 'til maybe 8:15. When we arrived home, it was raining lightly and we could hear the rumble of thunder, that was sure to upset the dogs.
John called work to find out what time he needed to clock-in and it turned out to be an early time, 4am, which meant he needed to get up at 2:30. Ugh!! As it was already getting late, he needed to get some sleep, but as he'd just eaten Mexican food, lying down was the last thing he needed to do, as his hiatal(sp?) hernia was sure to flair up, making him sick and keeping him up most of the night. So I ordered him to sleep in the recliner so he'd be in a propped up position.
At one point when my back was turned, he allowed Olivia into the bedroom where she promptly made herself comfortable on my side of the bed. He claimed that she "asked" to come in and visit the cats for a moment. For a moment my arse! I knew darned good and well what his game plan was. He didn't want to sleep in the recliner with her in the living room as she'd try to sleep in his lap, so he was hoping I'd let her stay in bed with me, which of course I did.
But this morning I'm paying for it as she sleeps right up against my arm and shoulder and now they are very sore. So that's my payback for us eating Mexican food so late at night.
No, not indigestion nor any kind of problem "south of my border".
My arm and shoulder hurts.
I'm sure you're all asking "How can Mexican food make your arm and shoulder hurt?"
Please, allow me to explain...
The husband didn't have the luxury of driving a bulk truck yesterday while at work, but was instead on a regular delivery route. This meant more physical labor for him and longer hours. I had every intention of fixing "breakfast" for dinner, but I was waiting 'til he called to tell me he was on his way before starting it. Long about 5:30 he called to inform me he was just headed back to the plant, and it would be an hour or more before he got home. He then proceeded to tell me he'd delivered to El Nopal Mexican Restaurant that day and had seen David, our favorite waiter, the only non-Hispanic waiter in the Mexican restaurant system I do believe. Don't get me wrong, he's not our favorite because he's the only Caucasian worker, he's simply our favorite because he's darned good at what he does.
We started frequenting El Nopal about 18 years ago (+/-) when it first opened. I'm not sure exactly how many years ago it was when David started working there, but once we discovered him, we always made it a point to ask for a table in his section (yes, even if it meant the smoking section, I was willing to suffer through just for his service). After a few years, David left and went to work at El Tarasaco. E.T. was a little bit further to drive, but we followed our waiter. He's not the first waiter/waitress we've followed from restaurant to restaurant. We're very loyal to our restaurant service professionals that we feel do a good job.
After a couple of years, David left E.T. We'd heard he transferred to the other E.T. out in J-town, but that was just a little further than we wanted to drive, and if we drove that far, we really felt like we'd be stalking him. So after that, we'd just mentally toss a coin as to which place we'd go if we were in the mood for Mexican. Well, it's been over 2 years since we'd seen David.
As I was saying... John said he had delivered to El Nopal and who did he see? David! Yes, David was back. So we decided spur of the moment to go there for dinner.
It was nearing 7pm before John finally showed up and I don't think we left the restaurant 'til maybe 8:15. When we arrived home, it was raining lightly and we could hear the rumble of thunder, that was sure to upset the dogs.
John called work to find out what time he needed to clock-in and it turned out to be an early time, 4am, which meant he needed to get up at 2:30. Ugh!! As it was already getting late, he needed to get some sleep, but as he'd just eaten Mexican food, lying down was the last thing he needed to do, as his hiatal(sp?) hernia was sure to flair up, making him sick and keeping him up most of the night. So I ordered him to sleep in the recliner so he'd be in a propped up position.
At one point when my back was turned, he allowed Olivia into the bedroom where she promptly made herself comfortable on my side of the bed. He claimed that she "asked" to come in and visit the cats for a moment. For a moment my arse! I knew darned good and well what his game plan was. He didn't want to sleep in the recliner with her in the living room as she'd try to sleep in his lap, so he was hoping I'd let her stay in bed with me, which of course I did.
But this morning I'm paying for it as she sleeps right up against my arm and shoulder and now they are very sore. So that's my payback for us eating Mexican food so late at night.
They're back!
Saturday afternoon, the husband & I were in the backyard, surveying our sadly, badly leaning rose of Sharon shrub, wondering if it was going to live. The snow/ice storm we had back in January took it's toll on this giant shrub, and while it does have little green buds on it, we're in a wait-and-see stage to see if it's going to survive the summer.
Anyway... while looking at the shrub which grows in the corner of the yard, right up against the front fence and lattice work, I noticed that our mourning doves that visit us every year had once again built a next on top of the fence. I don't know a mourning doves life span, so I really couldn't say for sure if it's the same pair or not, but I like to think it is. They've been returning to the same spot on our fence for several years now to build their nest and lay their eggs, raise their squab and then fly away only to repeat the process the next year.
I stepped closer to the nest and saw the momma bird was hunkered down on her nest, so I assumed she was sitting on a couple of eggs.
Wednesday evening, while out in the yard, I noticed that the wind chimes I had hanging from the giant shrub were all tangled and caught on the fence boards so I went to untangle it. I reached for the chimes only to pull my hand back quickly with a start. Sitting less than 6" from where my hand had rested on the fence was the poppa mourning dove. He had held his ground, but I was startled just the same. I stepped back and looked at the area and noticed that he was standing guard over his nest and that the momma dove was perched up on the lattice work a couple of feet above the nest, and the two squab were sitting slightly out of the nest, looking at their surroundings.
I couldn't really get a good picture of the two of them. Poppa dove had flown off when I went inside to get the camera, but momma dove remained...
She continued to keep a watchful eye on her brood.
I was very surprised at the size of the young, as I was sure on Saturday when I discovered them that they were probably just eggs. Fooled me!!
Later that evening when I checked on them again, momma dove had returned to the nest and had her two young tucked securely under her. It's amazing how she could completely hide both squab considering their size.
This morning as I was preparing to get in my car and head to work, I glanced towards the round flowerbed in front of our house and saw one of the parent doves sitting under a daffodil. When I looked closer, I saw one of the young squab sitting there as well. So the babies are out of the nest now and still the parents keep watch. I hope they live long enough to learn to fly when danger approaches, as we have a neighbor with a cat I can't stand that loves nothing better than to come into our yard and kill birds, rabbits, whatever it can catch.
Darn cat!! I'd like to catch it one day...
Thursday, April 09, 2009
Required Reading, part 2
Such is the way my mind works, random things popping into it at such random times, for no explicable reason...
I mentioned earlier this week many of the books that were required reading when I went to school. Last night, from out of nowhere, another, long forgotten story popped into my head. I believe the title was "Island of the Blue Dolphin", or something to that affect.
It was required reading at some point in elementary school. While I don't remember any of the (human) characters names, I remember the basic story-line, and I clearly remember the names of the two dogs or maybe they were wolves. The first dog was Rontu, the second, a pup he'd sired, was Rontu-Aru (son of Rontu).
If memory serves me correctly, the book was based on a true story, about a young girl and her brother (Russian-indians or some such thing) that were left behind on an island. The brother was killed by the wild dogs and she spent the next several years surviving on her own, and eventually befriending the leader of the wild dogs, Rontu.
Maybe I need to go back and find the book and re-read it to refresh my memory.
I mentioned earlier this week many of the books that were required reading when I went to school. Last night, from out of nowhere, another, long forgotten story popped into my head. I believe the title was "Island of the Blue Dolphin", or something to that affect.
It was required reading at some point in elementary school. While I don't remember any of the (human) characters names, I remember the basic story-line, and I clearly remember the names of the two dogs or maybe they were wolves. The first dog was Rontu, the second, a pup he'd sired, was Rontu-Aru (son of Rontu).
If memory serves me correctly, the book was based on a true story, about a young girl and her brother (Russian-indians or some such thing) that were left behind on an island. The brother was killed by the wild dogs and she spent the next several years surviving on her own, and eventually befriending the leader of the wild dogs, Rontu.
Maybe I need to go back and find the book and re-read it to refresh my memory.
Wednesday, April 08, 2009
Nostalgic moment for the week - Where are they now?
The summer between my 1st and 2nd grade we moved to a new house, located in a different county than the one I'd spent my early years. I left behind the children I'd gone to Kindergarten and 1st grade with. Every once in a random while, I'll wonder whatever happened to those old chums.
The elementary school I attended for 1st grade didn't offer Kindergarten classes, so I attended "K" in the basement of the Parkway Baptist Church. The class was small, I think there were maybe 9 of us, and we all went on to attend 1st grade together. Even though it's been 36 years, I think I can still name off every one of my fellow classmates...
Shelly Briles (she was my "bff" that lived closest to me)
Taffy Judd
Shannon something-or-another
Michelle Sheets
Karen Adkins (or maybe it was Atkins)
Eric Adkins (they were cousins)
Jeff Day
Duane Johnson
I think that was everyone.
I can still remember the first day of "K". Class was over and it was time to go home. The other kids were getting a bit rowdy (I was the perfect, quiet angel that never caused problems, **cough**) as we were lining up to be dismissed. Because of the rowdiness, I remember our teacher, Mrs. Knear(sp?) telling us to return to our seats or we wouldn't be allowed to go outside and meet our parents in the parking lot for our ride home. Me, being the literal child I was, refused to return to my seat and stayed by the door. All the other children had returned to their seats, and Mrs. Knear was trying to convince me to go sit down as well. I finally said, "but I'm not riding home, my grandmother is waiting outside to walk me home." Obviously, I felt that her threat of not being allowed to meet my parent outside for a ride home didn't apply to me.
At the end of the school year, there was a little graduation ceremony and we all got little diplomas. I think I still have mine somewhere.
In the fall, we all moved from the church basement to the Corydon Pike Elementary School. My teacher was Mrs. Himmelheber, who I believe also had taught my father when he was in school. Eventually, when I got out into the working world 11 years later, my first boss at Coca-Cola was her son, Ken. Small world, eh?
Memorable things I learned in 1st grade:
*Baby chicks shouldn't be fed Funyons. There was an egg incubator in the classroom that had a couple of chicken eggs in it. After they hatched, I remember Eric Adkins putting a Funyon in there, the teacher wasn't very happy with him for doing that. One of the chicks died, whether from eating the Funyon or some other reason I couldn't say.
*Air takes up space. I can remember a science experiment we did. We were all asked to save our milk cartons after lunch (btw, a carton of milk was .07cents back then) and bring them to the class room. The teacher crushed 1/2 of the cartons, leaving the other 1/2 in tact. She placed the crushed ones in a box, and in an identical box put the uncrushed cartons. She showed us how the cartons that were still full of air took up more space than the crushed (airless in theory) ones.
*I learned that the word "gay" had another meaning than just being happy, but I wasn't told what that other meaning was, just that it was something that shouldn't be talked about. I had to learn that for myself a few years later.
I can remember us being outside in the yard area playing one afternoon and one of the girls (while I do remember which one it was, I'm not saying who) had a huge, ugly bruise on the outside of her thigh. I don't remember the excuse she gave for it's cause, probably falling down or something, but I can remember wondering to myself, even back then if perhaps she wasn't being abused, beaten by one of her parents. Sad that a 6 year old should have that thought, and I truly wonder whatever became of her.
After school was out for the summer and we moved away, I didn't keep in touch with any of my classmates. I did see Shelly Briles a few years later while in jr. high when I went to a basketball game being held at her school. She looked a little rough around the edges, kind of scary, so I didn't approach her to say hello, despite her having once been my bff.
Another girl that I had attended 1st grade with, Lisa Emery, I crossed paths with about 10 years later at a car wash to raise money for some charity. And another classmate, Susan Faith, I ran into her my senior year. I was dating a guy that went to her school and they were in NaHoSo together.
When I started going to vocational school my jr. year, the school accepted students from several of the surrounding counties. One of the students in my computer class had attended 1st grade with me and recognized me. Of course he had the advantage of me still having the same, unique name I'd had in 1st grade. I was at a disadvantage because he'd stopped going by his middle name, Doug Noble and now went by his first name, John Noble, so of course I didn't recognize him.
That's the last I've seen of any of my early childhood friends. I wonder what has become of them? Where are they now? Do they ever think of me?
The elementary school I attended for 1st grade didn't offer Kindergarten classes, so I attended "K" in the basement of the Parkway Baptist Church. The class was small, I think there were maybe 9 of us, and we all went on to attend 1st grade together. Even though it's been 36 years, I think I can still name off every one of my fellow classmates...
Shelly Briles (she was my "bff" that lived closest to me)
Taffy Judd
Shannon something-or-another
Michelle Sheets
Karen Adkins (or maybe it was Atkins)
Eric Adkins (they were cousins)
Jeff Day
Duane Johnson
I think that was everyone.
I can still remember the first day of "K". Class was over and it was time to go home. The other kids were getting a bit rowdy (I was the perfect, quiet angel that never caused problems, **cough**) as we were lining up to be dismissed. Because of the rowdiness, I remember our teacher, Mrs. Knear(sp?) telling us to return to our seats or we wouldn't be allowed to go outside and meet our parents in the parking lot for our ride home. Me, being the literal child I was, refused to return to my seat and stayed by the door. All the other children had returned to their seats, and Mrs. Knear was trying to convince me to go sit down as well. I finally said, "but I'm not riding home, my grandmother is waiting outside to walk me home." Obviously, I felt that her threat of not being allowed to meet my parent outside for a ride home didn't apply to me.
At the end of the school year, there was a little graduation ceremony and we all got little diplomas. I think I still have mine somewhere.
In the fall, we all moved from the church basement to the Corydon Pike Elementary School. My teacher was Mrs. Himmelheber, who I believe also had taught my father when he was in school. Eventually, when I got out into the working world 11 years later, my first boss at Coca-Cola was her son, Ken. Small world, eh?
Memorable things I learned in 1st grade:
*Baby chicks shouldn't be fed Funyons. There was an egg incubator in the classroom that had a couple of chicken eggs in it. After they hatched, I remember Eric Adkins putting a Funyon in there, the teacher wasn't very happy with him for doing that. One of the chicks died, whether from eating the Funyon or some other reason I couldn't say.
*Air takes up space. I can remember a science experiment we did. We were all asked to save our milk cartons after lunch (btw, a carton of milk was .07cents back then) and bring them to the class room. The teacher crushed 1/2 of the cartons, leaving the other 1/2 in tact. She placed the crushed ones in a box, and in an identical box put the uncrushed cartons. She showed us how the cartons that were still full of air took up more space than the crushed (airless in theory) ones.
*I learned that the word "gay" had another meaning than just being happy, but I wasn't told what that other meaning was, just that it was something that shouldn't be talked about. I had to learn that for myself a few years later.
I can remember us being outside in the yard area playing one afternoon and one of the girls (while I do remember which one it was, I'm not saying who) had a huge, ugly bruise on the outside of her thigh. I don't remember the excuse she gave for it's cause, probably falling down or something, but I can remember wondering to myself, even back then if perhaps she wasn't being abused, beaten by one of her parents. Sad that a 6 year old should have that thought, and I truly wonder whatever became of her.
After school was out for the summer and we moved away, I didn't keep in touch with any of my classmates. I did see Shelly Briles a few years later while in jr. high when I went to a basketball game being held at her school. She looked a little rough around the edges, kind of scary, so I didn't approach her to say hello, despite her having once been my bff.
Another girl that I had attended 1st grade with, Lisa Emery, I crossed paths with about 10 years later at a car wash to raise money for some charity. And another classmate, Susan Faith, I ran into her my senior year. I was dating a guy that went to her school and they were in NaHoSo together.
When I started going to vocational school my jr. year, the school accepted students from several of the surrounding counties. One of the students in my computer class had attended 1st grade with me and recognized me. Of course he had the advantage of me still having the same, unique name I'd had in 1st grade. I was at a disadvantage because he'd stopped going by his middle name, Doug Noble and now went by his first name, John Noble, so of course I didn't recognize him.
That's the last I've seen of any of my early childhood friends. I wonder what has become of them? Where are they now? Do they ever think of me?
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
Required Reading (or watching)
While reading a blog over at Lifetimelearning about a book she and her daughters were reading (or re-reading), it got me to thinking about the books that were required reading when I was in school.
I can't really recall any particular book being assigned to us to read until 4th grade, and the first one I remember was "Mrs. Coverlet's Magician", followed by "The Good Earth"
Apparently "Mrs. Coverlet's Magician" was a sequel to another Mrs. Coverlet story, the exact title escapes me, even though I do remember going back and reading it on my own.
"The Good Earth" at the time we were assigned to read it, I considered it torture. I detested reading it and when quiz time would come, I seemed to have retained very little of what I'd read the night before. I remember a year or two later, over summer break I was looking for something to read and found the book buried deep in my room. I took it out and read it again, and actually half-way enjoying it.
I don't remember having anymore required reading until I hit high school, then I was subjected to the horrors of Shakespeare. Yes, I know, many of you are going to try and shame me for that remark, but honestly, I considered it torture then, and to this day I really see no point in having been forced to read it. I think I could've gotten much more out of being allowed to choose my own book and then reporting on it.
Of course there was "Romeo & Juliet", "Julius Cesaer (sp?)", "Gungadin (sp?)" and I have to say that to this day, I can still recite the first stanza of that poem. Oh the nightmares!!! Useless drivel occupying space in my brain! Those all came my freshman year, among some others that have since managed to flee my memory.
"To Kill A Mockingbird", that wasn't required reading (even though I have read it and love it!), but we were required to watch the movie. Love the movie version as well!!
"The Miracle Worker" was required at some point through the years, I've no complaints about reading that one, or having watched the movie or play.
"Of Mice & Men", I don't remember it being required reading, although I have read it, but I can remember being shown the movie in class. Loved it!!
Not all of us have the same taste in authors, subject matter, fiction vs. non-fiction, etc. We all have different ideas of what good literature is, and I respect that.
I can't really recall any particular book being assigned to us to read until 4th grade, and the first one I remember was "Mrs. Coverlet's Magician", followed by "The Good Earth"
Apparently "Mrs. Coverlet's Magician" was a sequel to another Mrs. Coverlet story, the exact title escapes me, even though I do remember going back and reading it on my own.
"The Good Earth" at the time we were assigned to read it, I considered it torture. I detested reading it and when quiz time would come, I seemed to have retained very little of what I'd read the night before. I remember a year or two later, over summer break I was looking for something to read and found the book buried deep in my room. I took it out and read it again, and actually half-way enjoying it.
I don't remember having anymore required reading until I hit high school, then I was subjected to the horrors of Shakespeare. Yes, I know, many of you are going to try and shame me for that remark, but honestly, I considered it torture then, and to this day I really see no point in having been forced to read it. I think I could've gotten much more out of being allowed to choose my own book and then reporting on it.
Of course there was "Romeo & Juliet", "Julius Cesaer (sp?)", "Gungadin (sp?)" and I have to say that to this day, I can still recite the first stanza of that poem. Oh the nightmares!!! Useless drivel occupying space in my brain! Those all came my freshman year, among some others that have since managed to flee my memory.
"To Kill A Mockingbird", that wasn't required reading (even though I have read it and love it!), but we were required to watch the movie. Love the movie version as well!!
"The Miracle Worker" was required at some point through the years, I've no complaints about reading that one, or having watched the movie or play.
"Of Mice & Men", I don't remember it being required reading, although I have read it, but I can remember being shown the movie in class. Loved it!!
Not all of us have the same taste in authors, subject matter, fiction vs. non-fiction, etc. We all have different ideas of what good literature is, and I respect that.
Monday, April 06, 2009
Think of them and they shall come
If any of you read my nostalgic-moment from last week, I wrote about our former neighbors and the time when "Santa" delivered a new puppy to their son.
While the new home that they moved to is only about 5 miles (if that) away from us, we see less and less of them with each passing year. The first couple of years, when their children were little, like under 5 years of age, we'd go watch them play soccer and get together with them from time to time. And up until about 2 years ago, we'd usually get together at least a couple of times during Lent and go their church' fish-fry. But with everyones' schedules getting increasingly busier, it has pretty much gotten to the point that the only time we see them is on the rare occasion when we bump into them at the grocery, maybe 2 or 3 times a year. I last saw them (the parents) at the store, the day after Thanksgiving during the insane shopping crowds.
Saturday night, John dragged the fire-pit out, built a fire and we cooked dinner over the open flames. Some of the neighbors stopped by and joined us, enjoying the wonderful weather we were having.
After everyone had gone home and we'd put most everything away, John built the fire up one last time for us to sit and enjoy. Just as we started to sit down, a car pulled up next at the curb and the window rolled down. It was none other than our former neighbors and the kids.
I was floored at how big the kids had gotten. Where does the time go???? I couldn't even remember when the last time was that I'd actually seen the children. Too long I suppose. They're both involved in all kinds of different sports now. I told the little boy (not so little now) that I'd just written a story about him that week. I don't think he knew whether or not to believe me. I didn't bother telling him what the story was about, just on the off chance he still doesn't know it was John that was portraying Santa. No sense in shattering his childhood memories.
Every once in a while, I can use my ESP powers for good. Think of them, and they will come. ;)
While the new home that they moved to is only about 5 miles (if that) away from us, we see less and less of them with each passing year. The first couple of years, when their children were little, like under 5 years of age, we'd go watch them play soccer and get together with them from time to time. And up until about 2 years ago, we'd usually get together at least a couple of times during Lent and go their church' fish-fry. But with everyones' schedules getting increasingly busier, it has pretty much gotten to the point that the only time we see them is on the rare occasion when we bump into them at the grocery, maybe 2 or 3 times a year. I last saw them (the parents) at the store, the day after Thanksgiving during the insane shopping crowds.
Saturday night, John dragged the fire-pit out, built a fire and we cooked dinner over the open flames. Some of the neighbors stopped by and joined us, enjoying the wonderful weather we were having.
After everyone had gone home and we'd put most everything away, John built the fire up one last time for us to sit and enjoy. Just as we started to sit down, a car pulled up next at the curb and the window rolled down. It was none other than our former neighbors and the kids.
I was floored at how big the kids had gotten. Where does the time go???? I couldn't even remember when the last time was that I'd actually seen the children. Too long I suppose. They're both involved in all kinds of different sports now. I told the little boy (not so little now) that I'd just written a story about him that week. I don't think he knew whether or not to believe me. I didn't bother telling him what the story was about, just on the off chance he still doesn't know it was John that was portraying Santa. No sense in shattering his childhood memories.
Every once in a while, I can use my ESP powers for good. Think of them, and they will come. ;)
Go ahead, ask me!!
Go ahead, ask me what kind of weekend I had! I dare ya!!!!
Okay, in all honesty, I had a FABULOUS weekend!!
Saturday morning, I took Olivia to E.P. "Tom" Sawyer State Park and we participated in the Goose Creek 5k.
Okay, in all honesty, I had a FABULOUS weekend!!
Saturday morning, I took Olivia to E.P. "Tom" Sawyer State Park and we participated in the Goose Creek 5k.
The t-shirts they hand out at these things never are big enough for me, so Olivia always gets to wear it.
My little angel was on her absolute best behavior ever!! Not a growl or a bark was heard from her. Not once did she lunge or snap at anyone. She stood still while people, even children, came up and petted her, and did all this without backing away like she normally does.
The morning temperature started off rather chilly, but as soon as the sun came out, it warmed up really fast. As the sun was so bright, Livvie had to wear her sun-shade.
The morning temperature started off rather chilly, but as soon as the sun came out, it warmed up really fast. As the sun was so bright, Livvie had to wear her sun-shade.
There were about 100 contestants that participated in the event.
Olivia and I got runner-up in our (okay, MY) age group.
In all honesty, that really isn't saying much, only that there were at leat 2 participants in the women's 40-44 age bracket. In truth, we finished 5th from last.
Olivia's t-shirt, participant number, a certificate for finishing the race, and a medallion for "runner-up", (cough).
I've got the medallion hanging from my rear-view mirror. In all honesty, I couldn't care less that it says runner-up. No, for me, it's a reminder of a wonderful morning spent with Olivia who was the epitome of what a Canine-Good-Citizen dog should be.
After we got home, she flopped onto the cushions to sun herself by the backdoor. She deserved the rest.
:)
Friday, April 03, 2009
TLC newletter
For anyone that's interested, here is the link to the current newsletter for The Luci Center.
Featured volunteer... my friend Genia (aka: our breeder) who we've gotten 4 of our 5 danes from.
And just in case you missed it last month, here's the link to last month's newsletter.
Featured volunteer... my friend Genia (aka: our breeder) who we've gotten 4 of our 5 danes from.
And just in case you missed it last month, here's the link to last month's newsletter.
T.G.I.F.!!
TGIF! everyone!!
Livvie and I have a 5k walk tomorrow at EP "Tom" Sawyer Park. Fortunately, this park is flat for the most part, unlike the last 5k we participated in. Considering the storms we had last night that dumped a whole lotta rain on us, I think I'll wear my old sneakers instead of my new ones.
Do you ever feel that because you normally seem to live life on the brink of disaster, or that one little tragedy after another keeps befalling you, that when things suddenly start going well, you're afraid to celebrate and enjoy the moment? You're afraid to be happy and enjoy it because you feel like the next disaster is just lurking around the corner, waiting to squash all your good feelings.
That's kind of how I feel right now. What do they call that type of person... negative?, pessimistic?, a Doubting Thomas?
I'm happy on the inside, but honestly, I'm afraid to blog all my good thoughts and energy right now. I'm afraid of jinxing myself.
I hope everyone has a great weekend!
'til next week!!
Livvie and I have a 5k walk tomorrow at EP "Tom" Sawyer Park. Fortunately, this park is flat for the most part, unlike the last 5k we participated in. Considering the storms we had last night that dumped a whole lotta rain on us, I think I'll wear my old sneakers instead of my new ones.
Do you ever feel that because you normally seem to live life on the brink of disaster, or that one little tragedy after another keeps befalling you, that when things suddenly start going well, you're afraid to celebrate and enjoy the moment? You're afraid to be happy and enjoy it because you feel like the next disaster is just lurking around the corner, waiting to squash all your good feelings.
That's kind of how I feel right now. What do they call that type of person... negative?, pessimistic?, a Doubting Thomas?
I'm happy on the inside, but honestly, I'm afraid to blog all my good thoughts and energy right now. I'm afraid of jinxing myself.
I hope everyone has a great weekend!
'til next week!!
Funny for the day
If anyone needs a good laugh, click on the link below. It will take you to my friend TraceyTreasure's blog. She's got the funny-of-the-day posted.
http://greeneyedmama.blogspot.com/2009/04/golf-accident.html
http://greeneyedmama.blogspot.com/2009/04/golf-accident.html
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
Happy April Fool's Day!!
April Fool's Day is one day (one among many) that I tend to let pass by without paying it much attention. I'm normally not one for playing jokes on others, nor do I appreciate having them played on me.
Having said that...
I did play a small part today in playing a joke on the boss.
One of our part-timer workers called earlier and left a message for him. She said to have him call "Ella Funt", and gave me the phone number to the Louisville Zoo.
I gave him the message when he came in and stayed hidden in my cubicle so I could listen to him make the call.
The first time he tried he got an automated system and tried dialing the name Funt, which of course didn't work.
He hung up and tried again, this time by-passing the automated system in favor of speaking to a live person.
I was biting my lip in an effort to keep from laughing hysterically and had to leave the office so he wouldn't catch on that he was being played.
Somebody at the zoo finally clued him in that Ella Funt wasn't a real person.
Every once in a while I guess we all have to do something juvenile. ;)
Having said that...
I did play a small part today in playing a joke on the boss.
One of our part-timer workers called earlier and left a message for him. She said to have him call "Ella Funt", and gave me the phone number to the Louisville Zoo.
I gave him the message when he came in and stayed hidden in my cubicle so I could listen to him make the call.
The first time he tried he got an automated system and tried dialing the name Funt, which of course didn't work.
He hung up and tried again, this time by-passing the automated system in favor of speaking to a live person.
I was biting my lip in an effort to keep from laughing hysterically and had to leave the office so he wouldn't catch on that he was being played.
Somebody at the zoo finally clued him in that Ella Funt wasn't a real person.
Every once in a while I guess we all have to do something juvenile. ;)
Nostalgic moment for the week - Santa Claus
Yes Virginia, there really IS a Santa Claus!
I just love this photo. It's one that I keep on my desk, even though the dog isn't mine, nor is the little boy. However, Santa is mine.
John has played the part of Santa Claus numerous times over the 20+ years I've known him. In borrowed costumes, rented costumes, and eventually his own Santa suit. Some of rather poor quality, one of such high quality he was almost afraid to wear it. But regardless of which Santa suit he wore, he always played the part well. His love of the spotlight and happy spirit always manages to shine through the fake beard.
I've got dozens of photos of John dressed up as Santa over the years, but the reason that this is one of my favorites is because it seemed the most magical occasion. He made one little boy's Christmas wish come true...
It was a few days before Christmas 1999 and we were talking to some friends (J&P) of ours that were former neighbors as well. J&P had moved away a few months before, and to this day, I miss having them close by. Another of our neighbors was having an open-house and had invited several of the neighbors, past and present, to attend. While there, J&P mentioned that they had gotten their son a new puppy for Christmas and would be going to pick it up on Christmas Eve.
It was no secret to any of us that their son, Nathan, had been wanting a puppy of his own for quite some time. He loved playing with our dog and the dogs of other neighbors, but a puppy of his very own was what he truly wanted.
When J&P mentioned getting him a new puppy, bells and whistles immediately started going off in my head as an idea struck me.
I begged them to bring the puppy to us on Christmas Eve and to let Santa-John deliver it to their house and give it to Nathan on Christmas morning. They were only too thrilled with the idea.
So we puppy-sat on the Eve and our dane, Smokey was quite taken with the little yellow puppy. It almost broke my heart to take his new friend away from him the next morning. I drove Santa to their house and he went to the garage to wait for the signal. I went on into the house and told a fib that John was on a fire-run and would show up later. Nathan started showing me what all he'd gotten for Christmas, and was so happy that he'd gotten a new leash, collar and other puppy supplies. He just knew his parents were going to take him puppy-shopping in the near future, so imagine his surprise when Santa came walking in the door a few minutes later carrying the new puppy!
They named their new puppy "Millie", short for Millenium.
That was a good Christmas for everyone I think.
I just love this photo. It's one that I keep on my desk, even though the dog isn't mine, nor is the little boy. However, Santa is mine.
John has played the part of Santa Claus numerous times over the 20+ years I've known him. In borrowed costumes, rented costumes, and eventually his own Santa suit. Some of rather poor quality, one of such high quality he was almost afraid to wear it. But regardless of which Santa suit he wore, he always played the part well. His love of the spotlight and happy spirit always manages to shine through the fake beard.
I've got dozens of photos of John dressed up as Santa over the years, but the reason that this is one of my favorites is because it seemed the most magical occasion. He made one little boy's Christmas wish come true...
It was a few days before Christmas 1999 and we were talking to some friends (J&P) of ours that were former neighbors as well. J&P had moved away a few months before, and to this day, I miss having them close by. Another of our neighbors was having an open-house and had invited several of the neighbors, past and present, to attend. While there, J&P mentioned that they had gotten their son a new puppy for Christmas and would be going to pick it up on Christmas Eve.
It was no secret to any of us that their son, Nathan, had been wanting a puppy of his own for quite some time. He loved playing with our dog and the dogs of other neighbors, but a puppy of his very own was what he truly wanted.
When J&P mentioned getting him a new puppy, bells and whistles immediately started going off in my head as an idea struck me.
I begged them to bring the puppy to us on Christmas Eve and to let Santa-John deliver it to their house and give it to Nathan on Christmas morning. They were only too thrilled with the idea.
So we puppy-sat on the Eve and our dane, Smokey was quite taken with the little yellow puppy. It almost broke my heart to take his new friend away from him the next morning. I drove Santa to their house and he went to the garage to wait for the signal. I went on into the house and told a fib that John was on a fire-run and would show up later. Nathan started showing me what all he'd gotten for Christmas, and was so happy that he'd gotten a new leash, collar and other puppy supplies. He just knew his parents were going to take him puppy-shopping in the near future, so imagine his surprise when Santa came walking in the door a few minutes later carrying the new puppy!
They named their new puppy "Millie", short for Millenium.
That was a good Christmas for everyone I think.
Wild turkey anybody??
I work in a small town, population I believe is somewhere around 10,000. I think most of those numbers live in the out-lying areas, outside of the city limits. The area that is considered "downtown" (at least in my opinion of "downtown") is about 6 city blocks wide (east to west) and about 4 blocks long (north to south).
The office I work in is near the western edge of the downtown area.
As I was driving down Main Street this morning, I'd just passed 2nd Street and as I approached 3rd, I saw...
...a small flock of wild turkeys in the road (or at least, what I think are wild turkeys).
Fortunately, traffic was lighter than usual, so I pulled off to the side and fumbled through my tote for my camera and shot some pictures. I got one of them in the street before an on-coming vehicle scared them towards the vacant lot on the other side of the railroad tracks...
I pulled a little closer but they had started taking flight and
The office I work in is near the western edge of the downtown area.
As I was driving down Main Street this morning, I'd just passed 2nd Street and as I approached 3rd, I saw...
...a small flock of wild turkeys in the road (or at least, what I think are wild turkeys).
Fortunately, traffic was lighter than usual, so I pulled off to the side and fumbled through my tote for my camera and shot some pictures. I got one of them in the street before an on-coming vehicle scared them towards the vacant lot on the other side of the railroad tracks...
I pulled a little closer but they had started taking flight and
perched up in the trees.
Only in a small rural town!
Some happy news to report. Finally!!!!
I know I've been moaning about the approach of April 15th and the taxes we would owe.
For those of you that have missed any of those posts from recent or past years, let me quickly bring you up to speed on the subject.
For the past umpteen years (12 +/-), we have always had to pay the tax-man. And I don't just mean a little bit, but usually around a 1000 bucks. Not to mention the high fee we've been paying to have our taxes prepared. By the time all was said and done, we were out between 1200 and 1400 dollars.
Can you say, "ouch!"?
While I've never quite understood how so many people manage to get back such big refunds every year, I've not really been jealous. No, if we could just "break-even" so to speak, I'd be thrilled. And by break-even, what I mean is this: if we have to pay $300 to have our taxes prepared, then it would be nice to get back about $300, so we could just call it a wash. But that never happens.
Last year was the worst ever!! It cost us $350 to have our taxes prepared. I nearly crapped a load on the spot when she gave us the bill. As we left the place, I told my husband, "that's it! Next year we're going to find somebody else. I'm tired of Jackson-Hewitt ripping us off!!"
And for those of you that might suggest I try doing it myself, then let me just say this: next year I'll bring them to you and let YOU try to figure it out. Even the tax professionals have a hard time & tend to scratch their heads in confusion because of the occupational tax and what-not, so do you really think I could figure it out? Not!!!
So to make a short story long... this year we took our taxes to an independent bookkeeper/tax preparer. She called me last night to let me know our stuff was ready to be picked up. I asked what the damages were and was only too thrilled. First of all, her fee is less than 1/2 what we paid Jackson-Hewitt (formerly Holland Tax Service). Secondly, we're getting a refund on state AND federal. I'm not sure that's ever happened to us. They aren't big refunds, but they're enough to cover her fee and allow us to eat out at a nice restaurant and perhaps go to a movie, or however we decide to spend it. As for the occupational tax, we still owe on that, a whopping $3.00. Three freaking dollars!!! Can you believe that? It's hardly worth the paper, ink and postage to send it in. **sigh**
So color me happy!! The tax-gods have decided to smile upon us for once in our lives. Can I get a hallelujah!?!?!?!
Right at this moment, life seems good. It almost makes me fearful that something bad is going to happen for sure. Oh well, I'll enjoy the moment as long as I can. Woo-Hoo!!!
For those of you that have missed any of those posts from recent or past years, let me quickly bring you up to speed on the subject.
For the past umpteen years (12 +/-), we have always had to pay the tax-man. And I don't just mean a little bit, but usually around a 1000 bucks. Not to mention the high fee we've been paying to have our taxes prepared. By the time all was said and done, we were out between 1200 and 1400 dollars.
Can you say, "ouch!"?
While I've never quite understood how so many people manage to get back such big refunds every year, I've not really been jealous. No, if we could just "break-even" so to speak, I'd be thrilled. And by break-even, what I mean is this: if we have to pay $300 to have our taxes prepared, then it would be nice to get back about $300, so we could just call it a wash. But that never happens.
Last year was the worst ever!! It cost us $350 to have our taxes prepared. I nearly crapped a load on the spot when she gave us the bill. As we left the place, I told my husband, "that's it! Next year we're going to find somebody else. I'm tired of Jackson-Hewitt ripping us off!!"
And for those of you that might suggest I try doing it myself, then let me just say this: next year I'll bring them to you and let YOU try to figure it out. Even the tax professionals have a hard time & tend to scratch their heads in confusion because of the occupational tax and what-not, so do you really think I could figure it out? Not!!!
So to make a short story long... this year we took our taxes to an independent bookkeeper/tax preparer. She called me last night to let me know our stuff was ready to be picked up. I asked what the damages were and was only too thrilled. First of all, her fee is less than 1/2 what we paid Jackson-Hewitt (formerly Holland Tax Service). Secondly, we're getting a refund on state AND federal. I'm not sure that's ever happened to us. They aren't big refunds, but they're enough to cover her fee and allow us to eat out at a nice restaurant and perhaps go to a movie, or however we decide to spend it. As for the occupational tax, we still owe on that, a whopping $3.00. Three freaking dollars!!! Can you believe that? It's hardly worth the paper, ink and postage to send it in. **sigh**
So color me happy!! The tax-gods have decided to smile upon us for once in our lives. Can I get a hallelujah!?!?!?!
Right at this moment, life seems good. It almost makes me fearful that something bad is going to happen for sure. Oh well, I'll enjoy the moment as long as I can. Woo-Hoo!!!
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