It's becoming increasingly clear to us that we'll probably not get to take a vacation this year. Oh sure, we'll have time off from work, but it's not too likely we'll get to go anywhere. If we do, I'll be very surprised.
As my husband is going to stay with his brother for a couple of days this holiday weekend, I decided to work the holiday and take my time off later in the month, on a Monday when he has the day off as well.
We've decided to spend the day at an amusement park.
We tried going last year around our anniversary, but as it was the end of August, the parks were already closed during the week and we couldn't get there on the weekend, so we're trying a bit earlier in the season this time.
It's been years since we were last able to enjoy Kings Island, I'm thinking 7 or 8 at least. And Holiday World, last time I was there I think it was still called Santa Claus Land, it's probably been at least 25 years.
I was looking up ticket prices to both places and was rather shocked to find HW more expensive than KI, even with discount tix they're more. Of course they do have free parking and free beverages at HW (Pepsi products, BLECH!!), vs. $10 to park at KI and ridiculous prices on drinks as well. It probably balances out price-wise when you weigh it out.
However, KI has many, many more roller coasters/thrill rides than HW. That's the deciding factor for me.
Kings Island it is!!
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
He was only trying to help...
Last week, I literally spent hours gathering receipts, statements, invoices, E.O.B.'s, etc. etc. from any and all medicine/healthcare we've received since the first of the year, then organizing them, calling various doctors offices asking for statements to be faxed to me, just to make sure I hadn't missed anything. I filled out form after form, tallied up our out-of-pocket expenses and had everything ready to send in to our health insurance company for reimbursement from our healthcare savings account. The only thing I needed was for my husband to sign each claim form.
I had this 2" thick stack of papers lying on the kitchen counter for the past several days, waiting for an opportunity to go through it with him, but it seemed like every time we were home together, we were just so blasted busy, and it kept getting put off.
Yesterday morning the husband calls me at work, informing me he had looked through the forms and wanted to know if he was s'posed to sign even the forms with my name on it? I told him just to leave it alone and I'd go over it with him together that evening.
Did he follow my instructions?
He's a man. No, of course he didn't.
Last night I picked up the stack and prepared to go through it with him, only to discover he'd already signed several of the forms...
in the wrong place.
***grrr!!!***
Me: Why'd you sign these when I told you to wait?
Him: Well, I went on and signed the forms with my name where you had it marked.
Me: I didn't have them marked anywhere for you to sign.
Him: Yes you did, at the bottom.
Me: No, I had the words "last 4 numbers of claimants social security number" circled.
Him: Oh.
Me: This is where you're supposed to sign, near the top where it says SIGNATURE!
Him: Oh.
Me: **sigh**
Him: Well here, let me sign up there then. Do I sign all the forms?
Me: Just forget it. I'll have to re-do all of them and then have you sign them.
Him: Why can't I just sign them now?
Me: Because you've already signed in the wrong place. I'd have to white-out too much stuff.
Him: I was only trying to help
Me thinking: Yeah, sure, after I'd already told him to leave them alone. This is NOT helping me.
I know I should just be thankful he was trying to help. Much like the other night he started emptying the dishwasher putting clean dishes away even after I'd asked him to leave it and I'd take care of it after dinner. But he wanted to help. I couldn't make him understand that he was in my way while I was trying to cook dinner and he is forever putting things away in the wrong place and I end up having to go along behind him and move things to the correct cabinet. Why is it a man knows where to go to find a particular dish or utensil when it's clean and we've put it away, but when it comes to him putting it away, he develops amnesia?
I know, I know, many of you women are going to scorn me for complaining, as I at least have a husband who want to help. And yes, I do love that he wants to help. I just wish he'd learn to help "my way" and when I want him to help, not just when it's convenient for him.
Get over it, right??
I had this 2" thick stack of papers lying on the kitchen counter for the past several days, waiting for an opportunity to go through it with him, but it seemed like every time we were home together, we were just so blasted busy, and it kept getting put off.
Yesterday morning the husband calls me at work, informing me he had looked through the forms and wanted to know if he was s'posed to sign even the forms with my name on it? I told him just to leave it alone and I'd go over it with him together that evening.
Did he follow my instructions?
He's a man. No, of course he didn't.
Last night I picked up the stack and prepared to go through it with him, only to discover he'd already signed several of the forms...
in the wrong place.
***grrr!!!***
Me: Why'd you sign these when I told you to wait?
Him: Well, I went on and signed the forms with my name where you had it marked.
Me: I didn't have them marked anywhere for you to sign.
Him: Yes you did, at the bottom.
Me: No, I had the words "last 4 numbers of claimants social security number" circled.
Him: Oh.
Me: This is where you're supposed to sign, near the top where it says SIGNATURE!
Him: Oh.
Me: **sigh**
Him: Well here, let me sign up there then. Do I sign all the forms?
Me: Just forget it. I'll have to re-do all of them and then have you sign them.
Him: Why can't I just sign them now?
Me: Because you've already signed in the wrong place. I'd have to white-out too much stuff.
Him: I was only trying to help
Me thinking: Yeah, sure, after I'd already told him to leave them alone. This is NOT helping me.
I know I should just be thankful he was trying to help. Much like the other night he started emptying the dishwasher putting clean dishes away even after I'd asked him to leave it and I'd take care of it after dinner. But he wanted to help. I couldn't make him understand that he was in my way while I was trying to cook dinner and he is forever putting things away in the wrong place and I end up having to go along behind him and move things to the correct cabinet. Why is it a man knows where to go to find a particular dish or utensil when it's clean and we've put it away, but when it comes to him putting it away, he develops amnesia?
I know, I know, many of you women are going to scorn me for complaining, as I at least have a husband who want to help. And yes, I do love that he wants to help. I just wish he'd learn to help "my way" and when I want him to help, not just when it's convenient for him.
Get over it, right??
Monday, June 29, 2009
Nostalgic moment & Song of the day
Another, two blogs in one...
As mentioned in my previous blog, I attended a wedding over the weekend held waaay out in the country. It was a beautiful drive just getting there. It brought back memories from childhood, back in the day when families actually did go for a Sunday drive, complete with a picnic.
When I was a kid, we often went for drives in the country, down through the rural counties of Harrison, Crawford, Orange, and Scott in Indiana, just to mention a few. Passing an Amish buggy wasn't uncommon on those back roads. Many times dad would park the car in the middle of the river (shallow obviously), more like a really wide creek in some parts. I'm guessing it was Blue River, but won't swear to it. My parents would wash the car while we kids played in the water, hunting for crawdads and chasing minnows. Sometimes we'd take a guided tour of one of the local natural attractions, Wyandotte Cave, Squire Boone Caverns or Marengo Cave.
I love to go spelunking, although it's been several years. Last time was almost 20 years ago when John & I went to Mammoth Cave.
These rock formations are just a few miles from Marengo Cave and I passed them on my way to the wedding.
I stopped on the way home to snap these photos, but ran out of space on the memory card, else I'd have taken more.
Sunday, after I'd gotten home from the farm, John home from work, and we'd had a chance to eat lunch and relax in the pool for an hour, we loaded Olivia in the car and took a drive out through the country on the Kentucky side of the river.
We drove out US42 through Skylight and headed to Westport on the river. I've got a 5k event there in a couple of weeks and wanted to make sure I knew where I was going and how long it would take to get there. As we turned off 42 onto Hwy 524 that would take us over to the river, I commented to the husband, "I think I'm in love".
"With what?" he asked.
"This area. I love it here!" It truly was a laid back area. Very rural, no hustle and bustle. I think I could be happy living there. It wasn't necessarily picturesque, it was just... unassuming.
Once I'd found the park, we then headed back over to 42 and resumed our drive east, out through Sligo and in to Bedford. Once in Bedford we turned south and headed to Turners Station to, you probably guessed it, our breeders house. We took Olivia so we could give her a bath in the wash-stall. She's now once again a fluffy, fuzzy white pup.
Despite the price of gas soaring up and up again, it was nice to just get out and go for a drive. Maybe I can convince the husband to do that more often.
Here's my song of the day by John Denver, "Country Roads Take Me Home"...
A Redneck Wedding
About three months ago, I got an email from my sister, announcing that a date had been set for her upcoming wedding. She asked me to be a bridesmaid and if I would do her the honors of creating the invitations.
The theme: Redneck
Dress: anything we want, as long as it's pink, brown &/or white (have I mentioned in the past how much I hate pink & brown together?).
I was given free-rein to make up whatever I wanted on the invites. I started hunting around on the 'net for templates and finally found this country-life border, and then borrowed some ideas from other things I saw to come up with the wording.
Here is what I came up with (you might have to click on the picture to make it bigger so you can read it)...
The wedding was to take place at her future in-laws home, in the flower garden.
Brian's family lives out in the country and it really was a beautiful drive just getting there. I almost rear-ended one car that had stopped in front of me as I was so busy looking around at the scenery. She has a lovely flower garden, made up of a mix of annuals, perennials, rose bushes, wild flowers, rock garden and water features...
Sisters!
The theme: Redneck
Dress: anything we want, as long as it's pink, brown &/or white (have I mentioned in the past how much I hate pink & brown together?).
I was given free-rein to make up whatever I wanted on the invites. I started hunting around on the 'net for templates and finally found this country-life border, and then borrowed some ideas from other things I saw to come up with the wording.
Here is what I came up with (you might have to click on the picture to make it bigger so you can read it)...
The wedding was to take place at her future in-laws home, in the flower garden.
Brian's family lives out in the country and it really was a beautiful drive just getting there. I almost rear-ended one car that had stopped in front of me as I was so busy looking around at the scenery. She has a lovely flower garden, made up of a mix of annuals, perennials, rose bushes, wild flowers, rock garden and water features...
(I'd love to see this one in another week when it's in full bloom)
A Redneck-Wedding just wouldn't be complete without red longjohns hanging from the clothesline!
My nephew, Nicholas
Dad leading sis down the aisle...
It was a very casual, relaxed atmosphere...
Sisters!
Gretchen, Brian and his parents, Bill & Jean (although my nephew has dubbed her with the name "Blue-Jean" and now most of us call her that).
The bride dragging the groom to the alter...
Bride & Groom (complete with wife-beater t-shirt).
It was a durned HOT & HUMID day, but went off pretty well. The decorator at the bakery called in sick and there was no one there to decorate her cake, so they gave it to her for free and my sister's new s-i-l added some flower petals and purdy'd it up.
Welcome to the family Brian!
Friday, June 26, 2009
On my soapbox again!!
I'm experiencing a bit of sour grapes at the moment.
I've grumbled about this a bit over the past couple of months, but each time a new organization or venue pops up that doesn't allow me to participate with my dog in their fund-raising walks or 5k events, it just really puts a sour taste in my mouth.
Yes, I do appreciate the few of them that state up front that dogs aren't allowed, as it saves me a lot of time and energy trying to get answers and with my scheduling. No harm, no foul.
But when they don't mention it and I've spent literally weeks, if not a couple of months trying to get the info, only to be told after many requests that "no" they don't allow dogs to participate, well then it just really irritates me to no end!
Those venues &/or charities/fundraisers that are on my "ANTI-DOG" list:
The Oldham Co. Festival/YMCA of Oldham County
Crestwood Baptist Church
Susan B. Komen Breast Cancer Research*
and now any event that takes place at Churchill Downs.
I was somewhat anti-Churchill Downs before for other reasons, but this just really frosts my noogies.
There is an event, the Stampede for VIPS (visually impaired pre-school services) being held there, which in the past was held in downtown Louisville, and they allowed pets. However, due to a scheduling conflict they're holding it at Churchill Downs this year which means now I can't take Olivia. If I can't take Olivia, I won't participate. Hopefully VIPS will select a different location for next year.
*as for the breast cancer event, while I do support what they do, it was the reply that turned me off: "We strongly discourage having dogs, but I will say honestly that every year some show up"
Well ya know what, while they may not send me packing if I did show up with Olivia, I just really don't want to go where my dog isn't welcome. So kiss my foot!!
As far as I'm concerned, it's their loss! It's that much more money they won't raise.
I mean, honestly, all they would have to say is: If anyone chooses to participate with their dog, then they have to start at the rear of the pack to be fair to the other runners/walkers. I'm okay with that. That's typically where we start anyway.
Oh, and not allow retractible leashes or leashes over 4' - 6'long. Is that so difficult?
I'll just take my entry fee and give it to some other charity.
I've grumbled about this a bit over the past couple of months, but each time a new organization or venue pops up that doesn't allow me to participate with my dog in their fund-raising walks or 5k events, it just really puts a sour taste in my mouth.
Yes, I do appreciate the few of them that state up front that dogs aren't allowed, as it saves me a lot of time and energy trying to get answers and with my scheduling. No harm, no foul.
But when they don't mention it and I've spent literally weeks, if not a couple of months trying to get the info, only to be told after many requests that "no" they don't allow dogs to participate, well then it just really irritates me to no end!
Those venues &/or charities/fundraisers that are on my "ANTI-DOG" list:
The Oldham Co. Festival/YMCA of Oldham County
Crestwood Baptist Church
Susan B. Komen Breast Cancer Research*
and now any event that takes place at Churchill Downs.
I was somewhat anti-Churchill Downs before for other reasons, but this just really frosts my noogies.
There is an event, the Stampede for VIPS (visually impaired pre-school services) being held there, which in the past was held in downtown Louisville, and they allowed pets. However, due to a scheduling conflict they're holding it at Churchill Downs this year which means now I can't take Olivia. If I can't take Olivia, I won't participate. Hopefully VIPS will select a different location for next year.
*as for the breast cancer event, while I do support what they do, it was the reply that turned me off: "We strongly discourage having dogs, but I will say honestly that every year some show up"
Well ya know what, while they may not send me packing if I did show up with Olivia, I just really don't want to go where my dog isn't welcome. So kiss my foot!!
As far as I'm concerned, it's their loss! It's that much more money they won't raise.
I mean, honestly, all they would have to say is: If anyone chooses to participate with their dog, then they have to start at the rear of the pack to be fair to the other runners/walkers. I'm okay with that. That's typically where we start anyway.
Oh, and not allow retractible leashes or leashes over 4' - 6'long. Is that so difficult?
I'll just take my entry fee and give it to some other charity.
Song of the day - The Wedding Song
I've always loved this song, even long before I got married.
Like thousands of other couples before us, John & I had "The Wedding Song" played during our wedding. I mean, seriously, is there a more appropriate song?
As my sister is getting married tomorrow, I thought it appropriate to make it my song of the day.
Like thousands of other couples before us, John & I had "The Wedding Song" played during our wedding. I mean, seriously, is there a more appropriate song?
As my sister is getting married tomorrow, I thought it appropriate to make it my song of the day.
Rudolph in June?
Imagine if you will Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer making an appearance in June.
Seems more like a winter-time character, doesn't he? Not too likely to show up when the temperatures and humidity levels are high, am I right?
Well, that's pretty much what I felt I was looking at this morning as I started to apply my eye-liner. I failed to notice it when I brushed me teeth. Nor did I see it when I put in my contact lenses or applied lotion. And I certainly didn't see it when I was fixing my hair.
But, I guess I had finally come fully awake and alert enough to take notice of the big red glaring pimple right on the very end of my nose.
I'm 41 years old. These things just should not be happening!
I'm supposed to be in my sister's wedding tomorrow and have pictures taken.
It's not fair!
Seems more like a winter-time character, doesn't he? Not too likely to show up when the temperatures and humidity levels are high, am I right?
Well, that's pretty much what I felt I was looking at this morning as I started to apply my eye-liner. I failed to notice it when I brushed me teeth. Nor did I see it when I put in my contact lenses or applied lotion. And I certainly didn't see it when I was fixing my hair.
But, I guess I had finally come fully awake and alert enough to take notice of the big red glaring pimple right on the very end of my nose.
I'm 41 years old. These things just should not be happening!
I'm supposed to be in my sister's wedding tomorrow and have pictures taken.
It's not fair!
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Life is good
Okay, so aside from having the heebeejeezus scared out of me this morning, life is going along pretty good right now.
The f-i-l has now sold all his time-share condos, so unless the husband & I hit the lottery, I figure we'll probably never go on vacation ever again. And, until we get another vehicle capable of towing our camper, it will continue to sit out in Henry Co., unused.
Anyone want to buy a pop-up camper?
Having said all that...
My sister is getting married this coming Saturday, 'bout durned time! ;)
Once I get past this weekend, Olivia and I resume our weekly 5k walks. We have one or more penciled on the calendar for every weekend between now and the end of October and a few into November. Life is good!
Instead of our usual walk through our neighborhood last night, we took a different route that headed us in the opposite direction, out of our subdivision and to the Dairy Queen a couple of shopping centers away. It was a longer walk than our typical neighborhood stroll, but Livvie was a trooper, even crossing the busy highway with cars all around us.
As we cut through the first (and newest) shopping center on our way to D.Q., I noticed that a doctors office had moved into one of the vacant store fronts. Did my eyes deceive me? Could it be? I looked closer... Yes, it was!! It was my allergy clinic. They had opened a shot-room practically next door, obviously within walking distance from my house. I called my allergist's office this morning and requested my vial be transferred to the new office. How great! Now I can get my shot on the way home from work when I need it instead of either going waaay out of my way to get it or missing out on getting it because of my busy schedule. Life is good!!
I've had a couple of discussions with my husband these past few weeks about horseback riding. He knows how much I love it, yet how rarely I get to enjoy it. Last time I was on a horse was probably 6 years ago. He grew up with horses, competing and winning as a teenager, so it's no big thing to him, basically he could care less about it all, but knows my love of being around the horses. So I finally asked him if I could resume taking riding lessons.
I say "resume" because I had taken some many, many years ago.
While I don't need his permission to take them, and typically do whatever I want whenever I want, for some reason I just felt the need to get his nod of approval, which he gave.
Right now I'm just trying to work out a schedule with the instructor to figure out which night/time is best for me/her.
Yes, there are a dozen other things we could better spend the money on... paying off a loan for when we had our roof replaced, paying off a credit card, buying John a new car, making repairs around the house, just to name a few. But, what the heck? You can't take it with you when you die and I'm not getting any younger or agile. I may as well grab some fun and enjoyment in my life now while I'm capable of experiencing it, because 20 or 30 years from now when I'm retired, I may not be able to. So I guess this weekend, I get to go shopping for a riding helmet.
Life is good!
The f-i-l has now sold all his time-share condos, so unless the husband & I hit the lottery, I figure we'll probably never go on vacation ever again. And, until we get another vehicle capable of towing our camper, it will continue to sit out in Henry Co., unused.
Anyone want to buy a pop-up camper?
Having said all that...
My sister is getting married this coming Saturday, 'bout durned time! ;)
Once I get past this weekend, Olivia and I resume our weekly 5k walks. We have one or more penciled on the calendar for every weekend between now and the end of October and a few into November. Life is good!
Instead of our usual walk through our neighborhood last night, we took a different route that headed us in the opposite direction, out of our subdivision and to the Dairy Queen a couple of shopping centers away. It was a longer walk than our typical neighborhood stroll, but Livvie was a trooper, even crossing the busy highway with cars all around us.
As we cut through the first (and newest) shopping center on our way to D.Q., I noticed that a doctors office had moved into one of the vacant store fronts. Did my eyes deceive me? Could it be? I looked closer... Yes, it was!! It was my allergy clinic. They had opened a shot-room practically next door, obviously within walking distance from my house. I called my allergist's office this morning and requested my vial be transferred to the new office. How great! Now I can get my shot on the way home from work when I need it instead of either going waaay out of my way to get it or missing out on getting it because of my busy schedule. Life is good!!
I've had a couple of discussions with my husband these past few weeks about horseback riding. He knows how much I love it, yet how rarely I get to enjoy it. Last time I was on a horse was probably 6 years ago. He grew up with horses, competing and winning as a teenager, so it's no big thing to him, basically he could care less about it all, but knows my love of being around the horses. So I finally asked him if I could resume taking riding lessons.
I say "resume" because I had taken some many, many years ago.
While I don't need his permission to take them, and typically do whatever I want whenever I want, for some reason I just felt the need to get his nod of approval, which he gave.
Right now I'm just trying to work out a schedule with the instructor to figure out which night/time is best for me/her.
Yes, there are a dozen other things we could better spend the money on... paying off a loan for when we had our roof replaced, paying off a credit card, buying John a new car, making repairs around the house, just to name a few. But, what the heck? You can't take it with you when you die and I'm not getting any younger or agile. I may as well grab some fun and enjoyment in my life now while I'm capable of experiencing it, because 20 or 30 years from now when I'm retired, I may not be able to. So I guess this weekend, I get to go shopping for a riding helmet.
Life is good!
Haunting in a funeral home?
It started like any other day...
I got up, fed the dogs, took a shower, got ready for work, ate breakfast, let the dogs out one last time, drove to work, unlocked the office and entered the building... and then that's when things took a turn to the scary.
As most of you probably know by now, I work in a funeral home. Honestly, it doesn't bother me the work I do, the dead bodies that pass through our doors, the caskets sitting about either empty or with someone's remains inside, urns with ashes, not a problem.
I am however a believer in ghosts.
Do I think my workplace is haunted? No, not really. We often joke that it is. When something happens we can't quite explain, we say, "Mr. R is at it again". Mr. R was the original owner of our building, he passed away several years ago, so we just blame things on him.
So as I went from room to room, up and down halls turning indoor lights on and outdoor lights off, I passed through a small room that has a gas fireplace. As I started to exit the room, a noise caught my attention so I stopped and listened for it again. It vaguely sounded as if several drops of water would rain down, then stop, and then I heard a faint "whoosh". It was the kind of noise a gas fireplace or gas grill will make when you first light it. But nobody had lit the fireplace.
I cautiously stepped closer and the cycle of dripping water and whoosh repeated itself. Then I heard a thumping noise that sounded as if it were coming directly above the hearth on the 2nd floor. This is where my boss' desk was, so I picked up the phone and dialed his extension. No answer. It was his day off and I didn't really think he'd be at his desk, but I had to check. The raining noise and whoosh repeated itself again, so I backed out of the room, grabbed my purse & lunch off the table and ran up the stairs to my office. I listened at the fireplace on the 2nd floor, but didn't hear any noises. I took my seat at my desk and tried to forget about it. Out of sight (or in this case earshot) out of mind, right? Not quite.
When my co-worker finally arrived some 20 minutes later, I nearly ran down the stairs to greet her. Something I never do! She was somewhat taken aback by my coming down as well. I waved her into the office and told her of the noises I'd been hearing. We both stood in front of the fireplace but nothing was happening, of course making me look foolish. She started to exit the room and I heard it again, calling her back. Again we took up a position in front of the fireplace, this time leaning in a bit closer and then suddenly the noises repeated themselves. We both stepped back, and gave each other questioning looks. I leaned in closer again and said, "it almost sounds like something falling from the chimney". These words were no sooner out of my mouth then I saw small particles of soot landing on the logs. The whoosh noise happened again and we decided something was happening with the gas jets. What else could it be? We're fireplace idiots. Despite it being the bosses day off I called him and begged him to come downstairs as there was a problem.
Seriously, we thought there could potentially be a safety issue. I was ready to evacuate the building. While waiting for him, we both stepped in close to the fireplace once more and my co-worker said, "I think there's a bird up in the chimney." She'd barely gotten those words out of her mouth when suddenly here comes a bird flying directly at us.
Blessedly, there was a curved screen over the opening that kept it from entering the room, but that still doesn't mean it didn't scare the daylights out of both of us. We both screamed and jumped back in unison.
I believe I mentioned a few days ago I suffer from ornitholophobia, the fear of birds. Well, it may as well have been a seen from the Hitchcock movie "Birds" for that one little bird scared me just as bad as those hundreds of birds terrorized movie goers.
I ran down the hall, closing all the doors so it wouldn't have access to the other rooms, the boss grabbed a broom and let it loose from it's enclosure and it began circling the office. I stood at the bottom of the stairs around the corner, ready to take flight if necessary. I stayed hidden around the corner and watched everything from the reflection in a glass-front cabinet sitting in the vestibule.
I almost wish I'd had a video camera (not to mention the nerves to stand out in the open) to film the event. My boss was climbing, barefoot across the furniture trying to catch the bird in a garbage can. He'd get the can over the bird, but then couldn't get anything across the end of the can before the bird would fly out and he'd have to start over again.
Eventually, the bird did fly out of the office and out the front door. Even though I'd done nothing but stand back out of the way, I was nearly drenched in sweat and felt ready for another shower. Amazing how fear makes you sweat.
Is our place haunted? If you count the birds and bats that enter the building and get trapped as haunting (as they'll probably haunt my dreams tonight), then yes. But as for us being haunted by spirits from the other side, I really don't think so.
I got up, fed the dogs, took a shower, got ready for work, ate breakfast, let the dogs out one last time, drove to work, unlocked the office and entered the building... and then that's when things took a turn to the scary.
As most of you probably know by now, I work in a funeral home. Honestly, it doesn't bother me the work I do, the dead bodies that pass through our doors, the caskets sitting about either empty or with someone's remains inside, urns with ashes, not a problem.
I am however a believer in ghosts.
Do I think my workplace is haunted? No, not really. We often joke that it is. When something happens we can't quite explain, we say, "Mr. R is at it again". Mr. R was the original owner of our building, he passed away several years ago, so we just blame things on him.
So as I went from room to room, up and down halls turning indoor lights on and outdoor lights off, I passed through a small room that has a gas fireplace. As I started to exit the room, a noise caught my attention so I stopped and listened for it again. It vaguely sounded as if several drops of water would rain down, then stop, and then I heard a faint "whoosh". It was the kind of noise a gas fireplace or gas grill will make when you first light it. But nobody had lit the fireplace.
I cautiously stepped closer and the cycle of dripping water and whoosh repeated itself. Then I heard a thumping noise that sounded as if it were coming directly above the hearth on the 2nd floor. This is where my boss' desk was, so I picked up the phone and dialed his extension. No answer. It was his day off and I didn't really think he'd be at his desk, but I had to check. The raining noise and whoosh repeated itself again, so I backed out of the room, grabbed my purse & lunch off the table and ran up the stairs to my office. I listened at the fireplace on the 2nd floor, but didn't hear any noises. I took my seat at my desk and tried to forget about it. Out of sight (or in this case earshot) out of mind, right? Not quite.
When my co-worker finally arrived some 20 minutes later, I nearly ran down the stairs to greet her. Something I never do! She was somewhat taken aback by my coming down as well. I waved her into the office and told her of the noises I'd been hearing. We both stood in front of the fireplace but nothing was happening, of course making me look foolish. She started to exit the room and I heard it again, calling her back. Again we took up a position in front of the fireplace, this time leaning in a bit closer and then suddenly the noises repeated themselves. We both stepped back, and gave each other questioning looks. I leaned in closer again and said, "it almost sounds like something falling from the chimney". These words were no sooner out of my mouth then I saw small particles of soot landing on the logs. The whoosh noise happened again and we decided something was happening with the gas jets. What else could it be? We're fireplace idiots. Despite it being the bosses day off I called him and begged him to come downstairs as there was a problem.
Seriously, we thought there could potentially be a safety issue. I was ready to evacuate the building. While waiting for him, we both stepped in close to the fireplace once more and my co-worker said, "I think there's a bird up in the chimney." She'd barely gotten those words out of her mouth when suddenly here comes a bird flying directly at us.
Blessedly, there was a curved screen over the opening that kept it from entering the room, but that still doesn't mean it didn't scare the daylights out of both of us. We both screamed and jumped back in unison.
I believe I mentioned a few days ago I suffer from ornitholophobia, the fear of birds. Well, it may as well have been a seen from the Hitchcock movie "Birds" for that one little bird scared me just as bad as those hundreds of birds terrorized movie goers.
I ran down the hall, closing all the doors so it wouldn't have access to the other rooms, the boss grabbed a broom and let it loose from it's enclosure and it began circling the office. I stood at the bottom of the stairs around the corner, ready to take flight if necessary. I stayed hidden around the corner and watched everything from the reflection in a glass-front cabinet sitting in the vestibule.
I almost wish I'd had a video camera (not to mention the nerves to stand out in the open) to film the event. My boss was climbing, barefoot across the furniture trying to catch the bird in a garbage can. He'd get the can over the bird, but then couldn't get anything across the end of the can before the bird would fly out and he'd have to start over again.
Eventually, the bird did fly out of the office and out the front door. Even though I'd done nothing but stand back out of the way, I was nearly drenched in sweat and felt ready for another shower. Amazing how fear makes you sweat.
Is our place haunted? If you count the birds and bats that enter the building and get trapped as haunting (as they'll probably haunt my dreams tonight), then yes. But as for us being haunted by spirits from the other side, I really don't think so.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
It's a frogs life
Apparently it just wasn't meant to be for me to have a pet frog(s) that will live longer than a few months.
I'm sure by now you're all familiar with the demise of my three little tree frogs that I had raised from tadpoles.
Then, the very day I lost those three, I found another species of tree frog, a spring peeper (I named him Shemp). Ah, a replacement of sorts. He wasn't as pretty and I didn't have quite the attachment to him since I hadn't raised him from infancy, but I was still delighted to have him.
For six months I managed to keep the little guy thriving. He'd split the silence in the house with his occasional mating call, at first this scared the dogs and myself witless, but we eventually became used to it and I loved to listen to him calling out.
Sadly, about 2 weeks ago Shemp croaked (pun intended). I'm not sure what happened. Where his tank sat on the shelf, there was a small opening at the back of the entertainment center where a ray of sunshine could shine through, and it actually looks like he was sitting on a rock sunning himself and didn't have the good sense to get out of the sun when it got too hot. I found him, dried and shriveled up almost in mid-leap position. Very sad. :(
I took an unused water trough at the farm and partially filled it with water and tossed in some grass and flowers to decay and create algae. The sun will leach the chlorine from the water and the tank is sitting where I found last years tadpoles, so I'm hoping maybe to harvest a new batch to raise (or eventually send to an early grave?).
In the mean time...
I was leading Max, the Belgian-quarter horse mix out to pasture the other evening. Max is a very big boy with even bigger hooves. So, as I was leading him, we passed between a small tree and the fencing and I just happened to glance down and what did I see in the grass? You guess it! A small frog, just about the size of the ones I've lost over these past few months. Now obviously I couldn't stop Max to grab the frog and carry it with me because #1) I don't like to touch the frogs w/my bare hands, #2) Max was very intent on getting where we were headed, and #3) even if I didn't mind picking the frog up w/my bare hands, I couldn't have held on to it w/one hand, lead him to pasture, through the gate and removed his halter all with only one available hand.
Mind you this was all happening in a split-second, my spotting the frog and knowing I couldn't pick it up at that moment, so I made a mental note of where the frog was and decided to come back for it, just hoping it would still be there. I'd no sooner finished this thought then Max's enormous hoof came down on froggy. I couldn't even look. Just said "screw it!" Obviously it just wasn't meant for me to have a pet frog.
I'm sure by now you're all familiar with the demise of my three little tree frogs that I had raised from tadpoles.
Then, the very day I lost those three, I found another species of tree frog, a spring peeper (I named him Shemp). Ah, a replacement of sorts. He wasn't as pretty and I didn't have quite the attachment to him since I hadn't raised him from infancy, but I was still delighted to have him.
For six months I managed to keep the little guy thriving. He'd split the silence in the house with his occasional mating call, at first this scared the dogs and myself witless, but we eventually became used to it and I loved to listen to him calling out.
Sadly, about 2 weeks ago Shemp croaked (pun intended). I'm not sure what happened. Where his tank sat on the shelf, there was a small opening at the back of the entertainment center where a ray of sunshine could shine through, and it actually looks like he was sitting on a rock sunning himself and didn't have the good sense to get out of the sun when it got too hot. I found him, dried and shriveled up almost in mid-leap position. Very sad. :(
I took an unused water trough at the farm and partially filled it with water and tossed in some grass and flowers to decay and create algae. The sun will leach the chlorine from the water and the tank is sitting where I found last years tadpoles, so I'm hoping maybe to harvest a new batch to raise (or eventually send to an early grave?).
In the mean time...
I was leading Max, the Belgian-quarter horse mix out to pasture the other evening. Max is a very big boy with even bigger hooves. So, as I was leading him, we passed between a small tree and the fencing and I just happened to glance down and what did I see in the grass? You guess it! A small frog, just about the size of the ones I've lost over these past few months. Now obviously I couldn't stop Max to grab the frog and carry it with me because #1) I don't like to touch the frogs w/my bare hands, #2) Max was very intent on getting where we were headed, and #3) even if I didn't mind picking the frog up w/my bare hands, I couldn't have held on to it w/one hand, lead him to pasture, through the gate and removed his halter all with only one available hand.
Mind you this was all happening in a split-second, my spotting the frog and knowing I couldn't pick it up at that moment, so I made a mental note of where the frog was and decided to come back for it, just hoping it would still be there. I'd no sooner finished this thought then Max's enormous hoof came down on froggy. I couldn't even look. Just said "screw it!" Obviously it just wasn't meant for me to have a pet frog.
Nostalgic moment & Song of the day
I was listening to some tunes a few minutes ago and 1/2 way through "I Feel For You" by Chaka Khan & Rufus, I suddenly had a flashback moment to high school that made me smile & laugh out loud.
I don't remember exactly what grade I was in, probably sophomore or junior, and there was a boy a year or so behind me named Kevin Frye.
Kevin was in the special education classes, and many of the other students referred to him as Kevin "Fly".
Kevin was very skinny, had mousy brown hair, and wore glasses with enormous frames that seemed to magnify his eyes (which contributed to the fly-reference). Kevin was a sweetheart of a human being and wouldn't have hurt a fly. He just wanted to be a friend to everybody. He was very difficult to understand when he spoke, so you either had him repeating himself several times or else you'd just nod and say, "uh-huh" and pretend you understood everyword. A few more things about Kevin... he had this nylon jacket he always wore, regardless of the weather, but never with his arms in the sleeves. Instead, he'd snap the collar around his neck and wear it like a cape. He had freakishly long fingers that reminded me of E.T. and sometimes he'd point one at you and start wagging it, especially if someone were being less than kind. He'd give them a piece of his mind in his delicate way and then turn and glide away. Yes, I said glide. I never ever once ever saw Kevin pick up his feet and walk. Instead, he slid his feet along the floor as if he were on ice-skates, gliding down the hall, his cape billowing behind him. That boy could really get some speed up when he was in a hurry and he could glide down the hall faster than some could run. Watch out if anybody ever put rollerblades on him!!
Kevin had a favorite song and he didn't mind singing it for you. He could frequently be found in the hallways singing, "Chaka, Chaka, Chaka-Khan, Chaka-Khan" I think those were the only words he knew though as he'd just repeat that opening line over and over.
Kevin could always make you smile.
I wonder whatever became of Kevin...?
Kevin, wherever you are dude, this song's for you!
I don't remember exactly what grade I was in, probably sophomore or junior, and there was a boy a year or so behind me named Kevin Frye.
Kevin was in the special education classes, and many of the other students referred to him as Kevin "Fly".
Kevin was very skinny, had mousy brown hair, and wore glasses with enormous frames that seemed to magnify his eyes (which contributed to the fly-reference). Kevin was a sweetheart of a human being and wouldn't have hurt a fly. He just wanted to be a friend to everybody. He was very difficult to understand when he spoke, so you either had him repeating himself several times or else you'd just nod and say, "uh-huh" and pretend you understood everyword. A few more things about Kevin... he had this nylon jacket he always wore, regardless of the weather, but never with his arms in the sleeves. Instead, he'd snap the collar around his neck and wear it like a cape. He had freakishly long fingers that reminded me of E.T. and sometimes he'd point one at you and start wagging it, especially if someone were being less than kind. He'd give them a piece of his mind in his delicate way and then turn and glide away. Yes, I said glide. I never ever once ever saw Kevin pick up his feet and walk. Instead, he slid his feet along the floor as if he were on ice-skates, gliding down the hall, his cape billowing behind him. That boy could really get some speed up when he was in a hurry and he could glide down the hall faster than some could run. Watch out if anybody ever put rollerblades on him!!
Kevin had a favorite song and he didn't mind singing it for you. He could frequently be found in the hallways singing, "Chaka, Chaka, Chaka-Khan, Chaka-Khan" I think those were the only words he knew though as he'd just repeat that opening line over and over.
Kevin could always make you smile.
I wonder whatever became of Kevin...?
Kevin, wherever you are dude, this song's for you!
Monday, June 22, 2009
Up for adoption...
I received a phone call Saturday morning. When the number popped up on my caller i.d., I started to ignore it, as I don't often answer calls from numbers I don't recognize, but I resisted the urge to let it go to voice mail and pressed the answer button.
The caller asked if this was "Pita", I confirmed it was and she introduced herself as Sandy, saying, "You don't know me but I'm so&so's daughter."
Me: "Uh-huh..." I was on guard now.
Her: "They both passed away."
Me: "What!? Your mom too?" I knew her dad had died back in January, but now her mom had passed also a couple of days before.
This woman was in her 90's and had had horrible emphysema, (and who knows what else?), yet continued to chain-smoke, and that's just what little I knew was wrong with her.
Even with her considerable age and ill-health, for some reason it still comes as a bit of a shock when someone goes, especially so soon on the heels of the spouse.
Sandy said she'd been going through her mom's things and found my name/number on a post-it note in her kitchen. I was somewhat surprised at this, as I'd not spoken to her parents in a year & a half. For those of you that have been following this blog for a while, you might remember Zack the unruly Great Dane I was "hired" to train. I had wanted to take Zack to obedience school for his owners as they were physically unable, but the old man had refused, simply wanting me to work with Zack at their home. I did so once, but in all honesty folks, I'm no obedience instructor. If I were, my own k-9 kids would be better behaved.
The man refused and it was the dead of winter, so I told him I'd get back in touch with him when the weather got warmer because I didn't want to work with the dog outside in below-freezing temperatures. Shame on me, the weather got warmer and I never called them back.
So now they are both dead and Sandy was informing me that Zack was now up for adoption. Apparently none of the children or grandchildren want him.
This absolutely breaks my heart. I would LOVE to have him. I held him when he was a mere 1 day old and fell in love with his unusual markings at that time and each time I saw him after that. But, my house and budget are stretched beyond their limits and there is just no way we could take in another dane. Even if I could afford it and had room, I don't think my two eldest danes would appreciate it very much.
Zack is a very sweet dog, and will be two, or maybe it's 3 years old around Labor Day.
So if anybody out there is interested in adopting sweet Zack, the red-merle Great Dane, let me know.
The caller asked if this was "Pita", I confirmed it was and she introduced herself as Sandy, saying, "You don't know me but I'm so&so's daughter."
Me: "Uh-huh..." I was on guard now.
Her: "They both passed away."
Me: "What!? Your mom too?" I knew her dad had died back in January, but now her mom had passed also a couple of days before.
This woman was in her 90's and had had horrible emphysema, (and who knows what else?), yet continued to chain-smoke, and that's just what little I knew was wrong with her.
Even with her considerable age and ill-health, for some reason it still comes as a bit of a shock when someone goes, especially so soon on the heels of the spouse.
Sandy said she'd been going through her mom's things and found my name/number on a post-it note in her kitchen. I was somewhat surprised at this, as I'd not spoken to her parents in a year & a half. For those of you that have been following this blog for a while, you might remember Zack the unruly Great Dane I was "hired" to train. I had wanted to take Zack to obedience school for his owners as they were physically unable, but the old man had refused, simply wanting me to work with Zack at their home. I did so once, but in all honesty folks, I'm no obedience instructor. If I were, my own k-9 kids would be better behaved.
The man refused and it was the dead of winter, so I told him I'd get back in touch with him when the weather got warmer because I didn't want to work with the dog outside in below-freezing temperatures. Shame on me, the weather got warmer and I never called them back.
So now they are both dead and Sandy was informing me that Zack was now up for adoption. Apparently none of the children or grandchildren want him.
This absolutely breaks my heart. I would LOVE to have him. I held him when he was a mere 1 day old and fell in love with his unusual markings at that time and each time I saw him after that. But, my house and budget are stretched beyond their limits and there is just no way we could take in another dane. Even if I could afford it and had room, I don't think my two eldest danes would appreciate it very much.
Zack is a very sweet dog, and will be two, or maybe it's 3 years old around Labor Day.
So if anybody out there is interested in adopting sweet Zack, the red-merle Great Dane, let me know.
Required Reading!!
I've read a couple of fantastic books this past week that I highly recommend. Both are fairly quick-reads, true stories.
The first is: "What Shamu Taught Me About Life, Love & Marriage" by Amy Sutherland
I literally laughed out loud at some parts.
Much of what's in the book were things that were taught to us at the clicker-training clinic I attended back in April.
This book isn't a training manual on how to train your dog, horse, or whatever, but it has a lot of "a-ha" moments on life and relationships.
I highly recommend it.
The second one I managed to read in one day. I started at 4:25pm and finished at 10:55pm, taking time to wash/dry/fold several loads of laundry, fix dinner, walk the dog and carry on a lengthy phone conversation, so I figure it probably took me in reality about 5 hours to read.
The title is "Amazing Graceie, A Dog's Tale" by Dan Dye & Mark Beckloff, the founders of Three Dog Bakery.
If you're familiar with that business, then you probably know about Gracie, one of the three dogs. She's a deaf Great Dane that was the inspiration for the business.
It's a great story for anybody, especially for dog lovers, more specifically Great Dane lovers. And if you've ever been owned by a "Gracie" or in my case, an "Olivia", then it's especially poignant.
I was sobbing before I had even finished reading the forward which was only 2 paragraphs long.
Each of the first 5 chapters had me crying. It was #6 before I could get through it without crying, at least, nothing more than tears of laughter. I finished reading it in bed last night and when I woke up this morning, I found a pile of used Kleenex on the floor by my side of the bed where I'd missed the wastebasket.
My only complaint about this book is that the writer kept referring to Gracie as an albino. Grrr!, he should know better. She had several black/gray marks on her and very blue eyes. Those things alone shows she's not an albino. And also, there has never been any documented case of an albino Dane. There is no such thing.
That aside, in all seriousness, if you get a chance, read one, the other, or BOTH books this summer. You won't be disappointed.
The first is: "What Shamu Taught Me About Life, Love & Marriage" by Amy Sutherland
I literally laughed out loud at some parts.
Much of what's in the book were things that were taught to us at the clicker-training clinic I attended back in April.
This book isn't a training manual on how to train your dog, horse, or whatever, but it has a lot of "a-ha" moments on life and relationships.
I highly recommend it.
The second one I managed to read in one day. I started at 4:25pm and finished at 10:55pm, taking time to wash/dry/fold several loads of laundry, fix dinner, walk the dog and carry on a lengthy phone conversation, so I figure it probably took me in reality about 5 hours to read.
The title is "Amazing Graceie, A Dog's Tale" by Dan Dye & Mark Beckloff, the founders of Three Dog Bakery.
If you're familiar with that business, then you probably know about Gracie, one of the three dogs. She's a deaf Great Dane that was the inspiration for the business.
It's a great story for anybody, especially for dog lovers, more specifically Great Dane lovers. And if you've ever been owned by a "Gracie" or in my case, an "Olivia", then it's especially poignant.
I was sobbing before I had even finished reading the forward which was only 2 paragraphs long.
Each of the first 5 chapters had me crying. It was #6 before I could get through it without crying, at least, nothing more than tears of laughter. I finished reading it in bed last night and when I woke up this morning, I found a pile of used Kleenex on the floor by my side of the bed where I'd missed the wastebasket.
My only complaint about this book is that the writer kept referring to Gracie as an albino. Grrr!, he should know better. She had several black/gray marks on her and very blue eyes. Those things alone shows she's not an albino. And also, there has never been any documented case of an albino Dane. There is no such thing.
That aside, in all seriousness, if you get a chance, read one, the other, or BOTH books this summer. You won't be disappointed.
Friday, June 19, 2009
... see a man/woman about a horse/chicken...
Generally when someone says they have to "see a man about a horse", it's a discreet way of saying they have to use the restroom.
Today, I had to see a woman about a chicken. Actually, chickenS, plural.
I'd just like to go on record and state right here and now that "seeing a woman about a chicken" is NOT the same as seeing a man about a horse.
It's not a gentle euphemism for anything, I literally had to see a woman about some chickens.
Honestly though, when I got there, I kept my distance. I have a touch of ornithophobia, which is a fear of birds. Birds are fine from a distance, but not close up. I have visions of having my eyes pecked out or my face clawed/spurred.
I was merely leading one friend to another so one could thin her flock.
Despite my fear of birds, it gave me an excuse to get away from the office for about 45 minutes. ;)
Today, I had to see a woman about a chicken. Actually, chickenS, plural.
I'd just like to go on record and state right here and now that "seeing a woman about a chicken" is NOT the same as seeing a man about a horse.
It's not a gentle euphemism for anything, I literally had to see a woman about some chickens.
Honestly though, when I got there, I kept my distance. I have a touch of ornithophobia, which is a fear of birds. Birds are fine from a distance, but not close up. I have visions of having my eyes pecked out or my face clawed/spurred.
I was merely leading one friend to another so one could thin her flock.
Despite my fear of birds, it gave me an excuse to get away from the office for about 45 minutes. ;)
Humans, Animals, and Love
Recently, I attended a clinic where many things were discussed involving humans and animals, even love.
Some of the statements that were made were rather common sense, others were rather profound. Some left me scratching my head and going, "hmm... I'll have to think on that one".
One of the common sense statements made: "animals have teeth, therefore they are capable of biting you" Will they bite you? Maybe not, but certainly they are capable of it.
Well duh! It's always amazed me when people walk up to us when we have our dogs out in public and ask the stupid question, "does your dog bite?" Often my reply to such a stupid question is "he/she has teeth, so he/she is capable of it". I know what the person is really trying to ask me is, "is it alright if I pet your dog?" to which I reply "yes" or "no", depending on which dog it is.
We shouldn't try to humanize our pets, whether we're talking about a dog, cat or horse.
All humans are animals. Not all animals are human.
I think a lot of us are guilty of humanizing our beloved pets. I know I'm guilty of it.
We think that just because they don't speak English doesn't mean they don't understand it. We think when we tell a dog to "sit" that it should automatically know what that command means. They don't. Sitting is a natural behavior for a dog. When we see them doing this, or teach them to lower their haunches to the ground and use the command "sit" in conjunction with the movement, then the dog just learns to associate the behavior with that word coming from our mouth. And the same is true for all the other "tricks" they learn, they learn to associate a behavior with either the sound they hear coming from us, or from certain movements or "cues" we give them with our body language.
However, I'm still guilty of carrying on conversations with my dogs, even providing voices for their side of the conversation. I'm also guilty of dressing my dogs up in clothes, whether specifically made for dogs or human clothing. Yep, I humanize them.
Then the subject of love was mentioned. Love is a human emotion. Animals/pets don't love.
What??? Back the applecart up!! How can the experts say such a thing???
But the animals are glad to see us when we get home, they come running when it's meal time, they climb into our lap when we sit down. How can you say they don't love us??
Because animals, more specifically pets, have learned to rely on us for their food, shelter, comfort, etc., sure, they are happy to see us as they know they're going to get fed, taken into shade when it's hot out or inside where it's warm when the weather outside is cold and damp. And they enjoy curling up next to us because they know we'll stroke their fur which is soothing, comforting to them. These animals have US trained. But do they love us? No.
Wow, all this info was blowing me away, both mentally and emotionally. It had me reeling with the thought that my much beloved danes don't really love me, just simply rely on me as they've trained me to care for them. This wasn't sitting well with me.
It's been a couple of weeks since that clinic and still that "lesson" has been bouncing around in the back of my mind. Then last night I came to the conclusion that this particular expert is wrong, I think pets can and do love us.
If going on the expert's theory that the pet is happy to see us because of what we provide it, then if that were true, the animal should be happy to receive food/water/shelter regardless of who provides it. Right? Well, sure, to a certain degree that is true.
But what about when I go out of town for a few days and either my husband is left to care for our k-9 kids or on the occasions we kennel them at our breeders? They're having all their needs met, if anything, my husband probably spoils them more at meal time and when at the breeders they get to run and stretch their legs more than usual. So if all is good and well in their lives, then why are they so ecstatically, deliriously happy to see me when I return home?
My dogs absolutely clamor around me in wild excitement. Bootsy stands on her hind legs and hugs me with her front paws, jumping up and down. I'll sit on the futon and all three will vie for position to get my affection. So based on the expert's theory, if pets don't love, then they shouldn't care one way or the other if I come home.
I arrived at this conclusion last night while talking to Sophie's daddy. All her needs are being met and she's content in my care, but I have no doubt that when her daddy arrives, I'm going to see one ecstatic dog bouncing off the walls when she see the human she loves and adores come back into her life.
Do our pets love us? If we love them in return, then YES!
ps,
Wow, I wrote the first part of this post at 10 this morning, it's now 3:30pm. Since this morning, I started reading the book "What Shamu Taught Me About Life, Love & Marriage". I'm on page 36 and already had several good chuckles, but I just read a line in the book ... while people are animals too, animals aren't people... and it's also talking about projecting our feelings onto animals/pets.
I'm beginning to think the expert that taught the clinic must've read this book as well.
However, I'm still standing by my opinion that our pets are capable of loving us in their own way.
Some of the statements that were made were rather common sense, others were rather profound. Some left me scratching my head and going, "hmm... I'll have to think on that one".
One of the common sense statements made: "animals have teeth, therefore they are capable of biting you" Will they bite you? Maybe not, but certainly they are capable of it.
Well duh! It's always amazed me when people walk up to us when we have our dogs out in public and ask the stupid question, "does your dog bite?" Often my reply to such a stupid question is "he/she has teeth, so he/she is capable of it". I know what the person is really trying to ask me is, "is it alright if I pet your dog?" to which I reply "yes" or "no", depending on which dog it is.
We shouldn't try to humanize our pets, whether we're talking about a dog, cat or horse.
All humans are animals. Not all animals are human.
I think a lot of us are guilty of humanizing our beloved pets. I know I'm guilty of it.
We think that just because they don't speak English doesn't mean they don't understand it. We think when we tell a dog to "sit" that it should automatically know what that command means. They don't. Sitting is a natural behavior for a dog. When we see them doing this, or teach them to lower their haunches to the ground and use the command "sit" in conjunction with the movement, then the dog just learns to associate the behavior with that word coming from our mouth. And the same is true for all the other "tricks" they learn, they learn to associate a behavior with either the sound they hear coming from us, or from certain movements or "cues" we give them with our body language.
However, I'm still guilty of carrying on conversations with my dogs, even providing voices for their side of the conversation. I'm also guilty of dressing my dogs up in clothes, whether specifically made for dogs or human clothing. Yep, I humanize them.
Then the subject of love was mentioned. Love is a human emotion. Animals/pets don't love.
What??? Back the applecart up!! How can the experts say such a thing???
But the animals are glad to see us when we get home, they come running when it's meal time, they climb into our lap when we sit down. How can you say they don't love us??
Because animals, more specifically pets, have learned to rely on us for their food, shelter, comfort, etc., sure, they are happy to see us as they know they're going to get fed, taken into shade when it's hot out or inside where it's warm when the weather outside is cold and damp. And they enjoy curling up next to us because they know we'll stroke their fur which is soothing, comforting to them. These animals have US trained. But do they love us? No.
Wow, all this info was blowing me away, both mentally and emotionally. It had me reeling with the thought that my much beloved danes don't really love me, just simply rely on me as they've trained me to care for them. This wasn't sitting well with me.
It's been a couple of weeks since that clinic and still that "lesson" has been bouncing around in the back of my mind. Then last night I came to the conclusion that this particular expert is wrong, I think pets can and do love us.
If going on the expert's theory that the pet is happy to see us because of what we provide it, then if that were true, the animal should be happy to receive food/water/shelter regardless of who provides it. Right? Well, sure, to a certain degree that is true.
But what about when I go out of town for a few days and either my husband is left to care for our k-9 kids or on the occasions we kennel them at our breeders? They're having all their needs met, if anything, my husband probably spoils them more at meal time and when at the breeders they get to run and stretch their legs more than usual. So if all is good and well in their lives, then why are they so ecstatically, deliriously happy to see me when I return home?
My dogs absolutely clamor around me in wild excitement. Bootsy stands on her hind legs and hugs me with her front paws, jumping up and down. I'll sit on the futon and all three will vie for position to get my affection. So based on the expert's theory, if pets don't love, then they shouldn't care one way or the other if I come home.
I arrived at this conclusion last night while talking to Sophie's daddy. All her needs are being met and she's content in my care, but I have no doubt that when her daddy arrives, I'm going to see one ecstatic dog bouncing off the walls when she see the human she loves and adores come back into her life.
Do our pets love us? If we love them in return, then YES!
ps,
Wow, I wrote the first part of this post at 10 this morning, it's now 3:30pm. Since this morning, I started reading the book "What Shamu Taught Me About Life, Love & Marriage". I'm on page 36 and already had several good chuckles, but I just read a line in the book ... while people are animals too, animals aren't people... and it's also talking about projecting our feelings onto animals/pets.
I'm beginning to think the expert that taught the clinic must've read this book as well.
However, I'm still standing by my opinion that our pets are capable of loving us in their own way.
Song of the day - My Town
I thought this song would go along well with the theme of this weeks "Friday Photo Challenge - TOWN"
This duo is from Kentucky and parts of the video were filmed about an hour or so away.
This duo is from Kentucky and parts of the video were filmed about an hour or so away.
Friday photo challenge - town
This is the heart of town. This single city block contains from left to right:
bank, pizza parlor, grocery store, hardware/pharmacy store, chiropractor office, hair salon, mayor's office, police dept., post office and the fire house.
And just in case you're wondering what town this is, it's Campbellsburg, KY. I pass through there on the way to Turner's Station, which is basically a de-funct town.
Next week's photo challenge is: Bush
Sophie
This is Sophie...
Notice the left ear sticking straight out...
I've GOT to get video of her ears, it's like they're spring-loaded. I was having fun pulling them down last night and watching them bounce back up. Her daddy called me last night after he got home from the airport. He introduced himself as "Sophie's Daddy". I thought it was cute. He misses his girl, and I can't wait to see how this bundle of energy reacts when he shows up this evening.
Notice the left ear sticking straight out...
I've GOT to get video of her ears, it's like they're spring-loaded. I was having fun pulling them down last night and watching them bounce back up. Her daddy called me last night after he got home from the airport. He introduced himself as "Sophie's Daddy". I thought it was cute. He misses his girl, and I can't wait to see how this bundle of energy reacts when he shows up this evening.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Song of the day - Stand By Me
"Stand By Me", a good movie (which I had playing in the background this morning as I got ready for work)and an even better song.
I've included both versions of this song that I've listened to over the years. The lyrics are the same, but each artists rendition is somewhat different. I love them both!!
The original version by Ben E. King...
And the country version that I grew up listening to by Mickey Gilley, from the soundtrack of "Urban Cowboy"...
I've included both versions of this song that I've listened to over the years. The lyrics are the same, but each artists rendition is somewhat different. I love them both!!
The original version by Ben E. King...
And the country version that I grew up listening to by Mickey Gilley, from the soundtrack of "Urban Cowboy"...
Irony
I love raiding the $5-movie bin at Walmart from time to time.
As I mentioned in an early blog, I kennel-sitting for the next few days. Even before the mandatory change from analog to digital tv, the reception on my friend's tv was horrible, only 2 channels half-way came in, and you listened more than watched. In the mornings I didn't mind because I could listen to the news/weather while getting ready for work. The rest of the time it kind of sucks, so I tend to watch a lot of movies & work puzzles in the evenings & on the weekends.
Now that tv-land has gone all-digital, you get no reception on older television sets what-so-ever unless you have cable, satellite or a converter box. She bought a converter box, but unfortunately, she's in a "blue zone" which means you're basically screwed and you'll have to get a new tv, cable or satellite. Or a really, really good tower-antenna on top of your house. So what I'm trying to say is, now she has ZERO reception, so it's movies all the time.
I packed my Ipod along, but I forgot my little boom box that it plugs into, so unless I want to walk around with earbuds plugged into my head all the time, I'm s.o.l., so I keep a movie popped in just to have some background noise.
I grabbed a stack of movies as I was leaving the house Wednesday morning, but honestly, I've seen them all dozens (if not hundreds) of times. I know them all by heart. So I made a trip to Walmart at lunch yesterday and raided the $5 bin, and found several movies I'd not seen yet but piqued my interest. Among my find was "Monster-In-Law".
I spent last night watching a documentary. It's a long one, 2 discs, so I'll probably be watching it tonight as well. I brought M-I-L to work with me today and as there was nothing going on, I watched it here.
I laughed so hard so many times. At times I had to back the movie up because I'd missed something that was being said due to my laughter. It was a very predictable movie, but I loved it anyway.
Once the movie was over I decided to check my email. There were 2 new messages in my inbox... 1 from my mother and 1 from my mother-in-law. A little ironic I thought.
As I mentioned in an early blog, I kennel-sitting for the next few days. Even before the mandatory change from analog to digital tv, the reception on my friend's tv was horrible, only 2 channels half-way came in, and you listened more than watched. In the mornings I didn't mind because I could listen to the news/weather while getting ready for work. The rest of the time it kind of sucks, so I tend to watch a lot of movies & work puzzles in the evenings & on the weekends.
Now that tv-land has gone all-digital, you get no reception on older television sets what-so-ever unless you have cable, satellite or a converter box. She bought a converter box, but unfortunately, she's in a "blue zone" which means you're basically screwed and you'll have to get a new tv, cable or satellite. Or a really, really good tower-antenna on top of your house. So what I'm trying to say is, now she has ZERO reception, so it's movies all the time.
I packed my Ipod along, but I forgot my little boom box that it plugs into, so unless I want to walk around with earbuds plugged into my head all the time, I'm s.o.l., so I keep a movie popped in just to have some background noise.
I grabbed a stack of movies as I was leaving the house Wednesday morning, but honestly, I've seen them all dozens (if not hundreds) of times. I know them all by heart. So I made a trip to Walmart at lunch yesterday and raided the $5 bin, and found several movies I'd not seen yet but piqued my interest. Among my find was "Monster-In-Law".
I spent last night watching a documentary. It's a long one, 2 discs, so I'll probably be watching it tonight as well. I brought M-I-L to work with me today and as there was nothing going on, I watched it here.
I laughed so hard so many times. At times I had to back the movie up because I'd missed something that was being said due to my laughter. It was a very predictable movie, but I loved it anyway.
Once the movie was over I decided to check my email. There were 2 new messages in my inbox... 1 from my mother and 1 from my mother-in-law. A little ironic I thought.
Dog daze
This week, I once again find myself residing in the countryside town of Turners Station. Our breeder is at a dog show and I'm caring for her fur-babies plus 1 extra, Sophie. She was dog-sitting and had to leave before Sophie's parents could come to get her. Sophie isn't one of G's pups, but is a blue Dane. She's the first blue I've ever really seen up close or interacted with.
Her ears were left natural, but for whatever reason they tend to stand up at times all on their own, then again at other times they stick straight out from her head.
My Olivia's left ear has a crease in it that at times will make the ear lay across the top of her head, but Sophie's ears are something else. From a breeder or someone that shows dogs stand-point, her ears are a nightmare. But personally, I love 'em! They seem to give her face some character and they just fit in with her personality.
I brought her into the house while the other girls were out running and she was a bundle of energy, running laps around the dog-room, attacking a slobber towel I threw down on her bed.
As for the other girls, so far so good. Candy is starting to fill out and not quite so skinny anymore, and is behaving (thus far), actually coming to me for attention instead of slinking past me. Bella is expecting a litter of pups later this summer, so she's packing on some weight as well.
Hopefully I can get some pix of Sophie before her parents come to pick her up on Friday.
Her ears were left natural, but for whatever reason they tend to stand up at times all on their own, then again at other times they stick straight out from her head.
My Olivia's left ear has a crease in it that at times will make the ear lay across the top of her head, but Sophie's ears are something else. From a breeder or someone that shows dogs stand-point, her ears are a nightmare. But personally, I love 'em! They seem to give her face some character and they just fit in with her personality.
I brought her into the house while the other girls were out running and she was a bundle of energy, running laps around the dog-room, attacking a slobber towel I threw down on her bed.
As for the other girls, so far so good. Candy is starting to fill out and not quite so skinny anymore, and is behaving (thus far), actually coming to me for attention instead of slinking past me. Bella is expecting a litter of pups later this summer, so she's packing on some weight as well.
Hopefully I can get some pix of Sophie before her parents come to pick her up on Friday.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Song of the day - You're the reason God made Oklahoma
I absolutely LOVED this song when it first came out. Actually, I still do, but I hadn't heard it in many years. When I went hunting for it on youtube and listened to it, I was amazed that I still remembered all the words to the song despite not having heard it for so long.
I was about 13 or 14 when it was popular, so that tells you how long it's been.
I remember once I had called in to the local country radio station WAMZ to request it be played and got some smart-alecked dj who smarted off about me requesting "You're the reason God made Okolona". grrr! For those of you that don't live in the Louisville area, Okolona is a suburb to the south of Louisville.
enjoy
Nostalgic moment for the week - baby teeth
Two different things in the past 24 hours spawned the theme for this blog.
#1) G.E.M. posted a foto of her youngest daughter's new adult teeth, and
#2) something I found in my kitchen cabinet last night...
Baby Teeth, we all get them and eventually lose them, only to be replaced by our adult teeth.
As humans we typically start losing our baby teeth between 5 and 7 years of age, then lose the last of them somewhere around age 12 (+/-), unless you're one of the unfortunates that gets your wisdom teeth removed, as I did a couple of weeks after graduating high school.
The first tooth I remember losing was one of my bottom front teeth, in December of '74. How do I remember when so specifically? I was in first grade and it was the day of our Christmas play. I had a dentist appointment right after school and the dentist noticed the tooth was a little loose, so he numbed the area and pulled it. I didn't even know he'd done this 'til after it was all said and done. My mother worried whether or not I'd be able to speak my lines in the play that evening. I was Little Bo Peep in the play "Santa Claus comes to Mother Goose Land", and I managed my lines just fine, few as they were.
More teeth followed over the years, some came out easily, some were a bit painful. Some came out by my father's fingers yanking them out, others (and I discovered this to be the easiest method) when I'd eat a piece of caramel or other chewy piece of candy.
My mother saved my baby teeth in a small cardboard box that a piece of jewelry had come in, the teeth tucked in between the layers of cotton padding. At the time I thought it was an odd thing to do, if not a bit gross.
But then I became a "parent", if you will, to a succession of Great Danes and I found myself following in my mother's footsteps. With the exception of Bootsy, we got all of them between the ages of 4 and 9 weeks and I would find puppy teeth around the house or in the dog crate from time to time. I'd place the tooth in a ziploc bag and label the bag with the dog's name. After we had Smokey & Kelsey cremated, I placed their little bags of teeth in their urns along with their favorite toy.
Last night I was poking around in a cabinet, feeling around on a shelf when I came across a couple of bags I'd forgotten about. I pulled the bags out and discovered my stash, it was Eliott & Olivia's puppy teeth. I had an "awwwwe" moment and remembered back to when each of my kids was a roly-poly little puppy. Then that made me kind of sad that I never had the opportunity to collect Bootsy's. **sniff**
Anybody else out there collect baby teeth? And if so, what do you do with your collection?
#1) G.E.M. posted a foto of her youngest daughter's new adult teeth, and
#2) something I found in my kitchen cabinet last night...
Baby Teeth, we all get them and eventually lose them, only to be replaced by our adult teeth.
As humans we typically start losing our baby teeth between 5 and 7 years of age, then lose the last of them somewhere around age 12 (+/-), unless you're one of the unfortunates that gets your wisdom teeth removed, as I did a couple of weeks after graduating high school.
The first tooth I remember losing was one of my bottom front teeth, in December of '74. How do I remember when so specifically? I was in first grade and it was the day of our Christmas play. I had a dentist appointment right after school and the dentist noticed the tooth was a little loose, so he numbed the area and pulled it. I didn't even know he'd done this 'til after it was all said and done. My mother worried whether or not I'd be able to speak my lines in the play that evening. I was Little Bo Peep in the play "Santa Claus comes to Mother Goose Land", and I managed my lines just fine, few as they were.
More teeth followed over the years, some came out easily, some were a bit painful. Some came out by my father's fingers yanking them out, others (and I discovered this to be the easiest method) when I'd eat a piece of caramel or other chewy piece of candy.
My mother saved my baby teeth in a small cardboard box that a piece of jewelry had come in, the teeth tucked in between the layers of cotton padding. At the time I thought it was an odd thing to do, if not a bit gross.
But then I became a "parent", if you will, to a succession of Great Danes and I found myself following in my mother's footsteps. With the exception of Bootsy, we got all of them between the ages of 4 and 9 weeks and I would find puppy teeth around the house or in the dog crate from time to time. I'd place the tooth in a ziploc bag and label the bag with the dog's name. After we had Smokey & Kelsey cremated, I placed their little bags of teeth in their urns along with their favorite toy.
Last night I was poking around in a cabinet, feeling around on a shelf when I came across a couple of bags I'd forgotten about. I pulled the bags out and discovered my stash, it was Eliott & Olivia's puppy teeth. I had an "awwwwe" moment and remembered back to when each of my kids was a roly-poly little puppy. Then that made me kind of sad that I never had the opportunity to collect Bootsy's. **sniff**
Anybody else out there collect baby teeth? And if so, what do you do with your collection?
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
In a quandry, no more.
As many of you know, I've been going to a chiropractor/physical therapy for almost 2 years for low-back problems.
At first the pain was horribly unbearable, eventually throw in some sciatic pain and it was almost more than I could stand. Blessedly, after a couple of epidurals and several sessions on a decompression table, my visits to the chiropractor became fewer and further. I'm down to about every 6 weeks or so for a fine-tune adjustment, unless some pain should flare up that would require me visiting sooner.
My back pain these past few months has been minimal. An occasional flare up that typically only lasts a few minutes or couple of hours at most and usually not too intense. Nothing I can't live with! Most of my pain now comes from my right knee, my left elbow and right thumb... yes, I'm falling apart.
It's for darned certain that 2 years ago I wouldn't have been able to participate in all the 5k events I've been taking part in of late, so I've been very happy with my progress.
So here is where the quandary comes in...
The clinic that I've been going to initially had 2 doctors. While "S" was the doctor I initially saw, I did from time to time see doctor "P" if "S" was too busy or otherwise not available. For a short while, there was even doctor "C" and I saw him a number of times. I liked him and was sorry when he transferred to the other clinic on the other side of town.
Dr. P is a likable fellow, funny and very personable. He's also been generous to me in making donations to certain causes I'm involved with.
Dr. S is also likable, but at times I wanted to roll my eyes as he'd start getting too chatty with patients about fishing or sports or whatever, while several of us were sitting around in pain and wasting time waiting for our turn.
Several months ago, a new guy, Dr. R came on board. I've never let him touch me. Nothing against him, I just haven't.
When I was last there in March, I saw Dr. S for a fine-tuning. A few weeks later we got a post-card invite (as everyone in our zip code received) to an open-house that was being held at the clinic with a radio station broadcasting live, give-aways, etc. etc. It listed Drs. P and R, but no Dr. S. "Hmm, that's odd" I thought.
I went to the clinic a couple of weeks ago for another fine-tuning. Imagine my surprise when I noticed Dr. S's name was no longer on the door, nor was it on the sign-in sheet or any of his business cards set out. I did notice that a Dr. M had now joined the practice. I was familiar with Dr. M as I'd seen him at another clinic a couple of times. I wasn't impressed and had no desire to see him now. So of the three doctors now available, Drs. P, R, & M, I was now down to Dr. P that I would let touch me.
I asked the clerk behind the desk what had happened to Dr. S. The clerk hesitated and then informed me that S had left to join another practice. The way he answered made it clear he wasn't supposed to talk about it. Something was up!
While I waited for Dr. P to become available, one of the p/t's came over and sat down next to me. He and I've always had a good rapport so after the hellos and a little banter, I finally lowered my voice and asked, "what happened to Dr. S?"
Geesh, you would have thought I'd tried to hire the guy for murder. All of a sudden he started fidgeting, looking around (I think: #1 to make sure nobody overheard and #2 looking for an excuse to get up and leave) and finally in a very low and nervous voice said, "uh, I was told he took some time off, like 3 or 4 months, that's all I know".
Yeah, right. And I'm the queen of England.
I could tell he was lying, but decided to play it cool. "Wow, 3 or 4 months. Must be nice to be able to take that kind of time off."
He jumped up from his seat with a parting, "yeah, well, I guess when you make the kind of money that doctors do you can afford to".
Dr. P finally became available and treated me, but I was less than happy when I left there, not only with the answers I'd received but the treatment as well.
A few days later I went and googled Dr. S's name and found him. He'd opened a new practice a few miles away.
I let this info weigh on my mind for a few days, tossing it back and forth. Should I stay at the clinic I've been going to all these years and is less than 2 miles from my house (ie: very convenient!)? Or follow Dr. S to his new clinic which would be a much further drive in rush hour traffic whenever I should need to see him?
Decisions, decisions...
I knew which way I was leaning, and I had some personal feelings about the whole situation between the doctors.
While out walking one evening, I ran into a neighbor that I knew also had been a patient at the same clinic and asked him if he was aware of Dr. S leaving the practice. He informed me he knew, but didn't know why. I told him the quandary I was in and he finally verbalized for me the feelings I'd had but had been afraid to say out loud.
We were both in agreement that while Dr. P was a likable enough guy, it seemed like he was more in to selling gimmicks and "snake oils" where as Dr. S seemed to be more of a healer.
Now that my feelings were out there in the open it has made my decision easier. I'll be calling Dr. S next time I need an adjustment. His chit-chat might get on my nerves sometimes, but I can deal with it if his hands make me feel better.
At first the pain was horribly unbearable, eventually throw in some sciatic pain and it was almost more than I could stand. Blessedly, after a couple of epidurals and several sessions on a decompression table, my visits to the chiropractor became fewer and further. I'm down to about every 6 weeks or so for a fine-tune adjustment, unless some pain should flare up that would require me visiting sooner.
My back pain these past few months has been minimal. An occasional flare up that typically only lasts a few minutes or couple of hours at most and usually not too intense. Nothing I can't live with! Most of my pain now comes from my right knee, my left elbow and right thumb... yes, I'm falling apart.
It's for darned certain that 2 years ago I wouldn't have been able to participate in all the 5k events I've been taking part in of late, so I've been very happy with my progress.
So here is where the quandary comes in...
The clinic that I've been going to initially had 2 doctors. While "S" was the doctor I initially saw, I did from time to time see doctor "P" if "S" was too busy or otherwise not available. For a short while, there was even doctor "C" and I saw him a number of times. I liked him and was sorry when he transferred to the other clinic on the other side of town.
Dr. P is a likable fellow, funny and very personable. He's also been generous to me in making donations to certain causes I'm involved with.
Dr. S is also likable, but at times I wanted to roll my eyes as he'd start getting too chatty with patients about fishing or sports or whatever, while several of us were sitting around in pain and wasting time waiting for our turn.
Several months ago, a new guy, Dr. R came on board. I've never let him touch me. Nothing against him, I just haven't.
When I was last there in March, I saw Dr. S for a fine-tuning. A few weeks later we got a post-card invite (as everyone in our zip code received) to an open-house that was being held at the clinic with a radio station broadcasting live, give-aways, etc. etc. It listed Drs. P and R, but no Dr. S. "Hmm, that's odd" I thought.
I went to the clinic a couple of weeks ago for another fine-tuning. Imagine my surprise when I noticed Dr. S's name was no longer on the door, nor was it on the sign-in sheet or any of his business cards set out. I did notice that a Dr. M had now joined the practice. I was familiar with Dr. M as I'd seen him at another clinic a couple of times. I wasn't impressed and had no desire to see him now. So of the three doctors now available, Drs. P, R, & M, I was now down to Dr. P that I would let touch me.
I asked the clerk behind the desk what had happened to Dr. S. The clerk hesitated and then informed me that S had left to join another practice. The way he answered made it clear he wasn't supposed to talk about it. Something was up!
While I waited for Dr. P to become available, one of the p/t's came over and sat down next to me. He and I've always had a good rapport so after the hellos and a little banter, I finally lowered my voice and asked, "what happened to Dr. S?"
Geesh, you would have thought I'd tried to hire the guy for murder. All of a sudden he started fidgeting, looking around (I think: #1 to make sure nobody overheard and #2 looking for an excuse to get up and leave) and finally in a very low and nervous voice said, "uh, I was told he took some time off, like 3 or 4 months, that's all I know".
Yeah, right. And I'm the queen of England.
I could tell he was lying, but decided to play it cool. "Wow, 3 or 4 months. Must be nice to be able to take that kind of time off."
He jumped up from his seat with a parting, "yeah, well, I guess when you make the kind of money that doctors do you can afford to".
Dr. P finally became available and treated me, but I was less than happy when I left there, not only with the answers I'd received but the treatment as well.
A few days later I went and googled Dr. S's name and found him. He'd opened a new practice a few miles away.
I let this info weigh on my mind for a few days, tossing it back and forth. Should I stay at the clinic I've been going to all these years and is less than 2 miles from my house (ie: very convenient!)? Or follow Dr. S to his new clinic which would be a much further drive in rush hour traffic whenever I should need to see him?
Decisions, decisions...
I knew which way I was leaning, and I had some personal feelings about the whole situation between the doctors.
While out walking one evening, I ran into a neighbor that I knew also had been a patient at the same clinic and asked him if he was aware of Dr. S leaving the practice. He informed me he knew, but didn't know why. I told him the quandary I was in and he finally verbalized for me the feelings I'd had but had been afraid to say out loud.
We were both in agreement that while Dr. P was a likable enough guy, it seemed like he was more in to selling gimmicks and "snake oils" where as Dr. S seemed to be more of a healer.
Now that my feelings were out there in the open it has made my decision easier. I'll be calling Dr. S next time I need an adjustment. His chit-chat might get on my nerves sometimes, but I can deal with it if his hands make me feel better.
Catch 22
We used to have an exterminator that came to our office and sprayed for insects on a monthly basis. When his job was complete, he'd have one of us sign off on the invoice and then he'd take his invoice back to his company's office. They would then mail the invoice to our corporate accounts payable office in Texas for payment.
Our exterminator stopped coming about a year and a half ago. A year ago in May our account was turned over to collections for $93 (+/-). Every time the exterminator company would call here, we would refer them to the a/p office, as they were the ones that paid the bills. We have no way of knowing what the a/p office told these people. So when we were turned over to collections the calls started coming more frequently. At first we told them the same thing, call Texas. When it was becoming apparent that Texas, for whatever reason wasn't going to pay the bill, we (the boss and myself) on several occasions told them just to fax us a copy of whichever invoice(s) they felt hadn't been paid and we'd go on and pay them from petty cash just to get it taken care of so they'd be happy and we wouldn't keep getting the harassing calls.
As I said, we told them several times to send fax us a copy of the invoice. Nothing ever came.
I got yet another call this afternoon from the collection agency. Once again, I told the woman that if they would just send us the invoice, we could get them paid. She then informed me she was with the collection agency (well duh!!) and she didn't have a copy of the invoice. So I told her that if she'd just tell the exterminator to send one, it could be resolved immediately.
What kind of stupid remark do you think she came back with?
That I would need to call the exterminator and request the invoice, as she didn't have their phone number.
Gimme a break!!
What kind of collection company wouldn't have the phone number of their clients they're collecting for? Okay, I mean maybe she didn't have the phone number immediately in front of her, but I'm sure she could get it with a little bit of effort. If she really wanted it that bad, she could've asked and I'd have looked it up for her, but she didn't, so to heck with 'em!
I said well then I guess we've got a catch 22 here. I want the invoice, they want their money.
I've offered on several occasions to pay them if they'd provide me with a piece of paper. They know this. They have known this for over a year. I really don't think it's my job to do the collection company's job and make phone calls.
Am I wrong here?
Our exterminator stopped coming about a year and a half ago. A year ago in May our account was turned over to collections for $93 (+/-). Every time the exterminator company would call here, we would refer them to the a/p office, as they were the ones that paid the bills. We have no way of knowing what the a/p office told these people. So when we were turned over to collections the calls started coming more frequently. At first we told them the same thing, call Texas. When it was becoming apparent that Texas, for whatever reason wasn't going to pay the bill, we (the boss and myself) on several occasions told them just to fax us a copy of whichever invoice(s) they felt hadn't been paid and we'd go on and pay them from petty cash just to get it taken care of so they'd be happy and we wouldn't keep getting the harassing calls.
As I said, we told them several times to send fax us a copy of the invoice. Nothing ever came.
I got yet another call this afternoon from the collection agency. Once again, I told the woman that if they would just send us the invoice, we could get them paid. She then informed me she was with the collection agency (well duh!!) and she didn't have a copy of the invoice. So I told her that if she'd just tell the exterminator to send one, it could be resolved immediately.
What kind of stupid remark do you think she came back with?
That I would need to call the exterminator and request the invoice, as she didn't have their phone number.
Gimme a break!!
What kind of collection company wouldn't have the phone number of their clients they're collecting for? Okay, I mean maybe she didn't have the phone number immediately in front of her, but I'm sure she could get it with a little bit of effort. If she really wanted it that bad, she could've asked and I'd have looked it up for her, but she didn't, so to heck with 'em!
I said well then I guess we've got a catch 22 here. I want the invoice, they want their money.
I've offered on several occasions to pay them if they'd provide me with a piece of paper. They know this. They have known this for over a year. I really don't think it's my job to do the collection company's job and make phone calls.
Am I wrong here?
Song of the day - Legs
I'm giving you a double dose of my music selections today.
Even for a big girl, I don't think my legs are too bad, at least, the calves aren't too bad (the thighs are another story). However, back in my younger days, before I packed on the weight, my legs, from my ankles on up to the other end, were purdee durn nice. Maybe not Catherine Bach nice, but not too shabby. I used to get comments on my legs quite frequently. My favorite that made me laugh, from a co-worker at the time and now a co-worker of my husband's was: "you've got legs all the way up to your ass". My reply, "don't most people?" It was his good ol' country boy way of paying me a compliment.
We're having a/c issues at work of late and I sit in my office and roast, trying to remain as still as possible while the ceiling fan, a box fan, and a small 6" fan do their best to keep me tolerably cool. I wore a dress today, something I seldom do, and a short one at that. When I stand, the hem is just above the knee, when I sit, it's considerably higher. The boss commented on the fact that I'd actually worn a dress and I told him it was as much skin as I dared to expose to stay cool and still keep my job. To compliment the outfit, I did something else I've not done in a long time, probably years... I wore heels. A 3.5" wedge to be precise. I've been teetering around the office all morning. It's not even 9:30 and I'm ready to toss the shoes out the window and go barefoot! The only positive thing I can say about them is they force my calf muscles to flex more and make my legs look better.
Enjoy ZZ Tops "Legs"
Even for a big girl, I don't think my legs are too bad, at least, the calves aren't too bad (the thighs are another story). However, back in my younger days, before I packed on the weight, my legs, from my ankles on up to the other end, were purdee durn nice. Maybe not Catherine Bach nice, but not too shabby. I used to get comments on my legs quite frequently. My favorite that made me laugh, from a co-worker at the time and now a co-worker of my husband's was: "you've got legs all the way up to your ass". My reply, "don't most people?" It was his good ol' country boy way of paying me a compliment.
We're having a/c issues at work of late and I sit in my office and roast, trying to remain as still as possible while the ceiling fan, a box fan, and a small 6" fan do their best to keep me tolerably cool. I wore a dress today, something I seldom do, and a short one at that. When I stand, the hem is just above the knee, when I sit, it's considerably higher. The boss commented on the fact that I'd actually worn a dress and I told him it was as much skin as I dared to expose to stay cool and still keep my job. To compliment the outfit, I did something else I've not done in a long time, probably years... I wore heels. A 3.5" wedge to be precise. I've been teetering around the office all morning. It's not even 9:30 and I'm ready to toss the shoes out the window and go barefoot! The only positive thing I can say about them is they force my calf muscles to flex more and make my legs look better.
Enjoy ZZ Tops "Legs"
He didn't really walk on water
My song of the day "Magic"...
I remember when this song first came out back in the 80's, MTV was a constant at our house, at least, while I was doing homework that is. This video was one of those that seemed to get constant air-time and I saw it so many times I think I started to have nightmares about it.
The first time I saw it, I was completely amazed as I watched the Rick Ocasek(sp?) appear to walk on water, wondering "How'd they do that?". Of course, by the end of the video it became apparent. As his "worshippers" started jumping into the pool and creating ripples and small waves, the water level dipped below the edge of the clear surface he was walking on which was just below the surface of the water. The illusion was gone. :(
I briefly dated a guy that looked a lot like Rick, especially the hair. What was I thinking???
I remember when this song first came out back in the 80's, MTV was a constant at our house, at least, while I was doing homework that is. This video was one of those that seemed to get constant air-time and I saw it so many times I think I started to have nightmares about it.
The first time I saw it, I was completely amazed as I watched the Rick Ocasek(sp?) appear to walk on water, wondering "How'd they do that?". Of course, by the end of the video it became apparent. As his "worshippers" started jumping into the pool and creating ripples and small waves, the water level dipped below the edge of the clear surface he was walking on which was just below the surface of the water. The illusion was gone. :(
I briefly dated a guy that looked a lot like Rick, especially the hair. What was I thinking???
Monday, June 15, 2009
Freebie!
Last Wednesday the husband and I had an appointment at 6pm in Middletown, which meant I basically had time to change clothes & use the facilities when I arrived home from work before we had to fight rush-hour to get there. Dinner would have to wait.
We ended up arriving a few minutes late, something I absolutely HATE doing, but it had been a few years since we'd last been there, and couldn't remember exactly which building we were supposed to go to.
Trying to make a long story short...
By the time we got out of there, if we'd gone home & I'd cooked dinner, it would've been rather late for us to be eating (not that our waistlines couldn't sacrifice a meal here and there), so we opted for dining out at Applebee's.
John had recently gotten a coupon book packed full of coupons and discounts to local restaurants. Applebees was among them, and Dairy Queen as well. After dinner, on the way home, I suggested stopping at the D.Q. and using the B.O.G.O. free sundae. John's arm never has to be twisted when it comes to having dessert, especially ice cream.
As we walked into the D.Q., we were greeted by a man in a suit informing us they were conducting a taste-test on their hamburgers and we'd receive a $10 gift card for our trouble. I was more than stuffed from dinner, declined their offer and tried to walk past them. Imagine my surprise to hear my husband saying, "what do we have to do?"
Good grief!
They gave each person two hamburgers and you just had to take one or two bites of each and then answer the questions on the laptop computer they had set up, and said both of us could try it. I informed them I didn't eat hamburger and once again tried to get past them, but John was ready to play their game. I just looked at him with my jaw hanging open and my eyes nearly popping out of my head. How could you possibly think about eating hamburgers after the dinner we just had? The fact that we were getting ready to stuff ourselves with ice cream was irrelevant.
He was seated at a laptop and two dressed hamburgers were brought out. He took a couple of bites of each and answered the questions, then had them wrap up his left-overs which he had for dinner the next night. He wasn't willing to use his $10 gift card to pay for our desserts that evening.
Still, who says you can't get anything for free anymore?
We ended up arriving a few minutes late, something I absolutely HATE doing, but it had been a few years since we'd last been there, and couldn't remember exactly which building we were supposed to go to.
Trying to make a long story short...
By the time we got out of there, if we'd gone home & I'd cooked dinner, it would've been rather late for us to be eating (not that our waistlines couldn't sacrifice a meal here and there), so we opted for dining out at Applebee's.
John had recently gotten a coupon book packed full of coupons and discounts to local restaurants. Applebees was among them, and Dairy Queen as well. After dinner, on the way home, I suggested stopping at the D.Q. and using the B.O.G.O. free sundae. John's arm never has to be twisted when it comes to having dessert, especially ice cream.
As we walked into the D.Q., we were greeted by a man in a suit informing us they were conducting a taste-test on their hamburgers and we'd receive a $10 gift card for our trouble. I was more than stuffed from dinner, declined their offer and tried to walk past them. Imagine my surprise to hear my husband saying, "what do we have to do?"
Good grief!
They gave each person two hamburgers and you just had to take one or two bites of each and then answer the questions on the laptop computer they had set up, and said both of us could try it. I informed them I didn't eat hamburger and once again tried to get past them, but John was ready to play their game. I just looked at him with my jaw hanging open and my eyes nearly popping out of my head. How could you possibly think about eating hamburgers after the dinner we just had? The fact that we were getting ready to stuff ourselves with ice cream was irrelevant.
He was seated at a laptop and two dressed hamburgers were brought out. He took a couple of bites of each and answered the questions, then had them wrap up his left-overs which he had for dinner the next night. He wasn't willing to use his $10 gift card to pay for our desserts that evening.
Still, who says you can't get anything for free anymore?
Dog day afternoon
Friday night, once I'd finished steam-cleaning the carpets, I set about packing my back-pack for the next day as Olivia and I were going to participate in the Huber's Barnyard Dash. I almost felt bad doing this at night instead of the next morning because Olivia just gets so excited whenever she sees me packing either a fanny-pack or back-pack as this is usually a sign that we're going out for one of our "special" walks. I hated to disappoint her by going to bed instead of loading her in the car to go someplace.
Saturday morning, I got up earlier than usual as I needed to leave the house by 6:30am. As I listened to the early morning newscast, hoping for good weather and being greedy in my wish for low humidity, I noticed that the weatherman was doing a live broadcast at the site of an old-fashioned/hot rod car show being held at Huber's.
Huber's? Huh, that was the very place Livvie and I were headed to.
The weatherman's forecast told of heavy fog in the area and was calling for temps in the 80's, but by noon the high would only be mid-70's, so I gambled and left the house open to avoid running the a/c. As I headed down I-71, the fog hung rather eerily at the top of the cliffs, leaving a clear area along the road which made me feel like I was driving down a long tunnel.
We made our way up the steep hill and along the winding country roads to get to Huber's, located in the Floyds Knobs of Indiana.
The runners had a 10-mile course, the walkers (that's us) had a 3-mile course. We started & finished at the same place, and part of our courses over-lapped for a couple of stretches. Liv & I made better time than usual, finishing about 7 minutes faster than we normally do and even ahead of several of the runners. The results aren't posted on the events website yet, so I don't know where we finished over-all. There were over 350 people participating and we finished 3rd in our age-group (excuse me, MY age-group). Also, Olivia was the first dog to cross the finish line.
She passed out and slept soundly the entire drive home...
but I had to have her model the t-shirt and pose with the
The pillows and blankets are normally behind the dogs, up against the wall, but she pulled this pillow out and laid her head down on it.
Saturday morning, I got up earlier than usual as I needed to leave the house by 6:30am. As I listened to the early morning newscast, hoping for good weather and being greedy in my wish for low humidity, I noticed that the weatherman was doing a live broadcast at the site of an old-fashioned/hot rod car show being held at Huber's.
Huber's? Huh, that was the very place Livvie and I were headed to.
The weatherman's forecast told of heavy fog in the area and was calling for temps in the 80's, but by noon the high would only be mid-70's, so I gambled and left the house open to avoid running the a/c. As I headed down I-71, the fog hung rather eerily at the top of the cliffs, leaving a clear area along the road which made me feel like I was driving down a long tunnel.
We made our way up the steep hill and along the winding country roads to get to Huber's, located in the Floyds Knobs of Indiana.
The runners had a 10-mile course, the walkers (that's us) had a 3-mile course. We started & finished at the same place, and part of our courses over-lapped for a couple of stretches. Liv & I made better time than usual, finishing about 7 minutes faster than we normally do and even ahead of several of the runners. The results aren't posted on the events website yet, so I don't know where we finished over-all. There were over 350 people participating and we finished 3rd in our age-group (excuse me, MY age-group). Also, Olivia was the first dog to cross the finish line.
She passed out and slept soundly the entire drive home...
but I had to have her model the t-shirt and pose with the
one-of-a-kind mug created by a local artist (our prize for finishing 3rd).
Poor dog looks likes she's asleep sitting up!
The pillows and blankets are normally behind the dogs, up against the wall, but she pulled this pillow out and laid her head down on it.
Just another dog day afternoon in Livvie's world.
I'll be staying out of town next weekend and my sister is getting married the following weekend, so Liv will get a bit of a rest before our next walk in 3 weeks. Rest up Livvie!!
Friday, June 12, 2009
Food for thought
Have you ever gone to a pizzeria and watched the "chef" prepare your pizza?
Odds are you've been somewhat fascinated by the way they toss the dough up in the air and catch it, making the dough spread out larger and larger 'til it's the size proper size. Some of the fancier pizza-chef's can be seen rolling the dough along their outstretched arm, across the back of their shoulder/neck, and down the other arm, all the while those that are watching this display ooh and aah.
But have you ever stopped and given thought to what is ending up in your dough? Think about it! Dough is somewhat sticky, almost like a living lint-brush. As it is thrown up in the air and then caught on the tosser's fist, it drapes down over their arm before the process is repeated. Ever stop and wonder how many of that persons arm-hairs end up being baked into your pizza crust?
And what about the guy that's rolling it along his shoulders/neck? What about the loose hairs from his head, not to mention any dandruff flakes and heaven forbid if that person has lice!
I witnessed a pizza being made the other day, not for the first time either, but yet it only just dawned on me how disgusting and unsanitary of an act this is. And unlike so many other food-service workers, I don't think I've ever seen them wearing those plastic gloves while handling the dough, so what about the warts on that workers hands? Or any other dirt/bacteria they may be harboring in those ragged nails/cuticles?
I may never eat pizza again!
Odds are you've been somewhat fascinated by the way they toss the dough up in the air and catch it, making the dough spread out larger and larger 'til it's the size proper size. Some of the fancier pizza-chef's can be seen rolling the dough along their outstretched arm, across the back of their shoulder/neck, and down the other arm, all the while those that are watching this display ooh and aah.
But have you ever stopped and given thought to what is ending up in your dough? Think about it! Dough is somewhat sticky, almost like a living lint-brush. As it is thrown up in the air and then caught on the tosser's fist, it drapes down over their arm before the process is repeated. Ever stop and wonder how many of that persons arm-hairs end up being baked into your pizza crust?
And what about the guy that's rolling it along his shoulders/neck? What about the loose hairs from his head, not to mention any dandruff flakes and heaven forbid if that person has lice!
I witnessed a pizza being made the other day, not for the first time either, but yet it only just dawned on me how disgusting and unsanitary of an act this is. And unlike so many other food-service workers, I don't think I've ever seen them wearing those plastic gloves while handling the dough, so what about the warts on that workers hands? Or any other dirt/bacteria they may be harboring in those ragged nails/cuticles?
I may never eat pizza again!
Sleepless in suburbia
When I was a kid, mostly in my pre-teen & teen years, I suffered from insomnia something awful. It didn't seem to matter how exhausted I was when I'd go to bed, I could lie there, tossing and turning the night away, and not fall asleep 'til well after 3 or 4 in the morning, only to have to get up at 5:30 or so. This would happen night after night. It's a wonder I ever stayed awake in class, much less that I ever graduated.
As I got older, the nights when I'd suffer from lack of sleep became fewer and farther between. And it seemed of the nights I did lack sleep, it was usually due to some outside interference such as a late night fire run, a sick spouse/pet, or some drama with a family member. When my back pain was at it's highest level, I had some restless nights, but that bothers me very little now (compared to a couple of years ago), and the occasional tylenol-pm or advil-pm if I'm feeling some twinges of pain usually help me sleep the night thru.
Last night was the exception though.
We're normally in bed by 9:30, but last night it was closer to 10pm. I went to sleep almost right away, but woke up with a start about quarter to 11. As tired as I'd been when I went to bed, that 45 minutes of sleep seemed to have satisfied my body for the time being, because I tossed and turned for the next several hours. It was well after 2am before I finally drifted off to sleep again, only to be awakened by the alarm at 3:30, grrrr!
As soon as the husband's lunch was packed and breakfast heating up I crawled back in bed and started drifting off to sleep again within minutes. Normally I don't go back to sleep 'til after the husband has left the house, but not this time. But darn it, he woke me up at 4:30 to kiss me good-bye. I do appreciate the display of affection before we part, but this morning I'd have appreciated being allowed to sleep even more. That 6:20 alarm came all too soon and when it went off, my mind was so befuddled, I'd forgotten I'd already been up once that morning and thought the husband had overslept, and couldn't figure out why he wasn't in bed next to me.
Needless to say, I've been doing something I rarely ever do, which is drinking coffee, and not the de-caf I'd normally fix. It's not helping, as it's all I can do to keep my eyes open even as I type this.
But I'm at work, so stay awake I must.
And I've got filthy carpets at home that have to be steam-cleaned tonight, so stay awake I must.
And I've got a 5k tomorrow morning, so a good nights sleep I must get tonight. I'm thinking one of the "pm" pills will definitely be popped tonight. **yawn**
As I got older, the nights when I'd suffer from lack of sleep became fewer and farther between. And it seemed of the nights I did lack sleep, it was usually due to some outside interference such as a late night fire run, a sick spouse/pet, or some drama with a family member. When my back pain was at it's highest level, I had some restless nights, but that bothers me very little now (compared to a couple of years ago), and the occasional tylenol-pm or advil-pm if I'm feeling some twinges of pain usually help me sleep the night thru.
Last night was the exception though.
We're normally in bed by 9:30, but last night it was closer to 10pm. I went to sleep almost right away, but woke up with a start about quarter to 11. As tired as I'd been when I went to bed, that 45 minutes of sleep seemed to have satisfied my body for the time being, because I tossed and turned for the next several hours. It was well after 2am before I finally drifted off to sleep again, only to be awakened by the alarm at 3:30, grrrr!
As soon as the husband's lunch was packed and breakfast heating up I crawled back in bed and started drifting off to sleep again within minutes. Normally I don't go back to sleep 'til after the husband has left the house, but not this time. But darn it, he woke me up at 4:30 to kiss me good-bye. I do appreciate the display of affection before we part, but this morning I'd have appreciated being allowed to sleep even more. That 6:20 alarm came all too soon and when it went off, my mind was so befuddled, I'd forgotten I'd already been up once that morning and thought the husband had overslept, and couldn't figure out why he wasn't in bed next to me.
Needless to say, I've been doing something I rarely ever do, which is drinking coffee, and not the de-caf I'd normally fix. It's not helping, as it's all I can do to keep my eyes open even as I type this.
But I'm at work, so stay awake I must.
And I've got filthy carpets at home that have to be steam-cleaned tonight, so stay awake I must.
And I've got a 5k tomorrow morning, so a good nights sleep I must get tonight. I'm thinking one of the "pm" pills will definitely be popped tonight. **yawn**
Tears
I overheard a conversation last night and got my feelings very hurt. Hurt so bad that I had to fight back tears. The conversation wasn't even about me, my name was never mentioned and no kind of reference was made in general about me. Maybe it's what wasn't said that hurt so much. I really can't go into detail about what these women were talking about, and it isn't either of them that really hurt me, so I don't blame them or hold any ill-will towards them. After all, they had no way of knowing their conversation would affect me so. Let's just suffice it to say that there is something I've been wanting to do for a very long time and even asked the necessary person in authority about the possibility of doing this "task". I was given somewhat of a generic answer, kind of a "maybe" that I suppose was meant to pacify me and put me off, probably in hopes I'd forget about it. But when I overheard these women last night talking about how they had been given permission to perform a task I'd previously inquired about, it really hurt me, made me feel like the person in authority either didn't trust me or just felt I wasn't capable.
Is any of this making sense??
I wish I'd either just been given a straight answer from the get-go, or at the very least given an opportunity to try. If then that person didn't feel I was capable of properly handling the task, then take me off the "project". It now makes me wonder about how honest and straight-forward this person has been with me on other topics.
I'm feeling resentful, taken advantage of, and a whole host of other emotions, and like last night, I'm having to fight back tears just thinking about this.
So I leave you with my song of the day by Smoky Robinson and the Miracles, "Tears of a Clown".
Is any of this making sense??
I wish I'd either just been given a straight answer from the get-go, or at the very least given an opportunity to try. If then that person didn't feel I was capable of properly handling the task, then take me off the "project". It now makes me wonder about how honest and straight-forward this person has been with me on other topics.
I'm feeling resentful, taken advantage of, and a whole host of other emotions, and like last night, I'm having to fight back tears just thinking about this.
So I leave you with my song of the day by Smoky Robinson and the Miracles, "Tears of a Clown".
Thursday, June 11, 2009
Letters to the editor
While reading a blog over at The Fifty Factor regarding letter writing, it got me to thinking about letters I've written in the past to the editor or our newspaper. I haven't done so in several years, mainly because I stopped reading the paper a long time ago.
But once upon a time, I used read it daily and kept up with what was going on around our community, and every once in a while, I'd come across something that would stir some passion within and I'd fire off a letter. I can remember at least three of them that were published.
One letter had to do with employees at a local cigarette manufacturer complaining because the $23 (+/-) per hour they were paid wasn't enough. Were they freaking kidding me? Not enough? They should be ashamed of themselves for making that much when teachers, firefighters and police didn't make that much (mind you, this was several years ago, I don't know what they make now). I wrote in because I was so appalled that the professions I mentioned that are out there to help and to serve us were so underpaid and those making cancer sticks were being greedy.
It still makes me sick just thinking about it!
Another letter I wrote after reading an article about funeral directors and how somebody that had been interviewed felt they'd been taken advantage of.
I was working at the cemetery at the time, so I only had an inkling of what funeral directors often did to GIVE back to the communities and how they HELPED the families that couldn't afford to bury a loved one. Now that I actually work at a funeral home, I see first hand how they care for the families they serve, and I stand by my original letter, which also stated that if you didn't want to be taken advantage of (because unfortunately there are a few unscrupulous directors out there as in any profession), then pre-arrange your funeral so you're getting what you want at todays prices instead of paying inflated prices in the future. Remember, vultures only prey on the weak/dead.
One last letter I wrote wasn't in response to anything I'd read in the paper, but rather something that had happened in our community. My husband was an active volunteer fire fighter at the time and had been called out in the wee hours of the morning for an alarm-sounding at a local restaurant. The restaurant had only been open a few months and they'd had an on-going problem with their alarm system, resulting in countless false alarms. When the pager went off again that morning, he, like many other volunteers, drug themselves from bed and drove to the firehouse and then showed up at the restaurant, ready to put out a fire had there actually been one.
When they arrived, everything looked to be okay, but instead of busting down the door, they waited for the manager (or key-holder) to arrive and open the place up so they could go in and inspect. I mean, if they busted down the door every time an alarm sounded even if things appeared to be okay, then that restaurant would've been replacing their door several times a week. Who wants that??
Well, because of the numerous times he'd been gotten out of bed for false alarms, the manager was refusing to show up.
I sat at home listening to all this on the scanner, and I was livid!! Of all the inconsiderate, lazy, no-good s.o.b.'s!! If the firefighters were willing to show up and put their lives on the line to protect his business, then by golly he should be willing to show up with a key so they could inspect the place so they could all get back home and go back to sleep.
The letter I sent wrote was full of anger at the manager and other business owners that take the fire department and the fire fighters (volunteers who didn't have to show up, but did so out of the goodness of their hearts!). I didn't mention that restaurant by name, but I stated I'd never set foot in that establishment again.
I got a lot of positive feedback from the fire fighters even from other departments, and one took his copy of the editorial up to that restaurant and handed it to the manager and said, "here, this is for you".
Letters to the editor, sometimes they do some good, sometimes they are a voice for those that would remain silent and take whatever is dished-out to them. Other times they are public "thank you's or atta-boys" for some job well done or kind deed performed. And other times they're nothing more than a way for us to vent our frustrations.
Letters to the editor... they were kind of like blogging, back before blogging existed.
But once upon a time, I used read it daily and kept up with what was going on around our community, and every once in a while, I'd come across something that would stir some passion within and I'd fire off a letter. I can remember at least three of them that were published.
One letter had to do with employees at a local cigarette manufacturer complaining because the $23 (+/-) per hour they were paid wasn't enough. Were they freaking kidding me? Not enough? They should be ashamed of themselves for making that much when teachers, firefighters and police didn't make that much (mind you, this was several years ago, I don't know what they make now). I wrote in because I was so appalled that the professions I mentioned that are out there to help and to serve us were so underpaid and those making cancer sticks were being greedy.
It still makes me sick just thinking about it!
Another letter I wrote after reading an article about funeral directors and how somebody that had been interviewed felt they'd been taken advantage of.
I was working at the cemetery at the time, so I only had an inkling of what funeral directors often did to GIVE back to the communities and how they HELPED the families that couldn't afford to bury a loved one. Now that I actually work at a funeral home, I see first hand how they care for the families they serve, and I stand by my original letter, which also stated that if you didn't want to be taken advantage of (because unfortunately there are a few unscrupulous directors out there as in any profession), then pre-arrange your funeral so you're getting what you want at todays prices instead of paying inflated prices in the future. Remember, vultures only prey on the weak/dead.
One last letter I wrote wasn't in response to anything I'd read in the paper, but rather something that had happened in our community. My husband was an active volunteer fire fighter at the time and had been called out in the wee hours of the morning for an alarm-sounding at a local restaurant. The restaurant had only been open a few months and they'd had an on-going problem with their alarm system, resulting in countless false alarms. When the pager went off again that morning, he, like many other volunteers, drug themselves from bed and drove to the firehouse and then showed up at the restaurant, ready to put out a fire had there actually been one.
When they arrived, everything looked to be okay, but instead of busting down the door, they waited for the manager (or key-holder) to arrive and open the place up so they could go in and inspect. I mean, if they busted down the door every time an alarm sounded even if things appeared to be okay, then that restaurant would've been replacing their door several times a week. Who wants that??
Well, because of the numerous times he'd been gotten out of bed for false alarms, the manager was refusing to show up.
I sat at home listening to all this on the scanner, and I was livid!! Of all the inconsiderate, lazy, no-good s.o.b.'s!! If the firefighters were willing to show up and put their lives on the line to protect his business, then by golly he should be willing to show up with a key so they could inspect the place so they could all get back home and go back to sleep.
The letter I sent wrote was full of anger at the manager and other business owners that take the fire department and the fire fighters (volunteers who didn't have to show up, but did so out of the goodness of their hearts!). I didn't mention that restaurant by name, but I stated I'd never set foot in that establishment again.
I got a lot of positive feedback from the fire fighters even from other departments, and one took his copy of the editorial up to that restaurant and handed it to the manager and said, "here, this is for you".
Letters to the editor, sometimes they do some good, sometimes they are a voice for those that would remain silent and take whatever is dished-out to them. Other times they are public "thank you's or atta-boys" for some job well done or kind deed performed. And other times they're nothing more than a way for us to vent our frustrations.
Letters to the editor... they were kind of like blogging, back before blogging existed.
Song of the day - You'll Accompany Me
Bob Seger has had some great songs over the years, and may be best remembered for his "Old Time Rock 'n' Roll" song that most of us remember young Tom Cruise dancing to in the movie "Risky Business".
But this is probably my personal favorite, for sentimental reasons I'm not divulging.
But this is probably my personal favorite, for sentimental reasons I'm not divulging.
The shirt says it all...
Thunderstorms passed through our area in the wee ours of the morning. I was awakened by thunder a couple of times, but managed to immediately fall back asleep both times. The husband had been on-call this morning, so my alarm didn't go off until it was time for me to get up at 6:20.
I drug my tired arse from bed, used the restroom, made up my side of the bed as best I could and let him sleep. I exited the bedroom and my day immediately started to go down hill.
One or more, and I'm guessing at least two if not three were responsible, just judging by the shear volume of mess, had peed from one end of the great-room all the way to the other end, and from the edge of the dog's crate & futon, to almost the opposite side of the room. In other words, they left very little of the carpet untouched by urine or vomit. Yes, vomit as well. One of the dogs had apparently eaten a stuffed toy (minus the stuffing), and then thrown it back up.
Now to be honest, I'm actually grateful for the vomit and regurgitated toy, as this is much better than the toy having stayed in the dog's stomach and then having gotten lodged in the intestines and requiring surgery to remove it. I know it wasn't Bootsy, as I could tell from the food bits stuck to the toy, and since it is (was) a favorite toy of Olivia's, I'm going to guess her to be the guilty-party for that mess. As for all the urine, I'm guessing Bootsy to be one of the major contributors, just going by her demeanor. When I walked into the room, she jumped over one of the larger puddles and immediately went and sat in a corner, instead of wanting to go outside. Totally unlike her!!
I can only guess that the storm scared her so bad she had an accident, and then I'm not so sure that one of the others didn't decide to try and cover her fresh scent by marking over it with their own. Grrr!
Regardless of who was responsible, what's done is done. There was a large area that needed to be cleaned. What I really need to do is steam-clean the carpets, but obviously I didn't have time this morning, and I won't be getting home tonight 'til at least 9pm, so it's going to have to be put off 'til Friday after work (so much for the dinner I'd planned on cooking tomorrow night).
This momma was immediately unhappy and returned to the bedroom and screamed at the husband to get up and HELP me for a change. He takes his sweet time and when he walks in and sees the mess, he made the mistake of asking the stupid question, "so what do you want me to do?". OMG!!! Do I really have to tell you to start blotting up the urine? Grab one of those white towels and start blotting. I look back a minute later and instead of blotting, he's rubbing. No, No, NO!! Don't rub, BLOT!!!
Now that he was blotting, I grabbed the throw rug by the back door and hauled it outside. It's too big to go in the washer, so it was going to have to be hosed off, but for now I made do with just throwing it on the deck. Back inside, I started gathering up all the dogs blankets and slobber rags that had been peed &/or vomited on and hauling them to the washing machine. Now the husband had gone outside to hose off the throw rug, leaving a pile of urine soaked towels in the middle of the floor. When he came back inside, he went to the restroom. After that, he started watching tv and gathering up his dirty uniforms from the clothes hamper. Now I was getting waaay beyond pissed.
Me: What are you doing?
Him: I need to wash a load of uniforms, I only have one clean shirt left.
Me: Well, they were all clean at the start of the week, what have you done with all of them?
Him: I don't know
Me: Well, your uniforms are going to have to wait. All this dog-laundry has to be washed first.
Have you ever considered looking in the dryer to see if the rest of your uniforms might be in there?
Him: No
So now he goes and gets his clean uniforms that were still in the dryer and carries them to the bedroom to start folding them.
All the while I'm getting madder and madder by the second. Finally I snapped.
Me: Shall I assume you're done out here?
Him: I guess so. Why?
Me: Well I just wondered, since there's a pile of pee-soaked towels lying in the floor and still several areas that haven't been blotted up.
Needless to say, he didn't come back out to finish the job and I had to finish it.
Needless to say, the dogs got fed a half hour late, I ran out of time and didn't get to take a shower but had to make do with washing my hair in the sink and didn't have time to iron
anything to wear.
As I was grabbing a change of clothes to wear at the farm this evening, I grabbed this t-shirt, as I felt it pretty well summed up the way things were going for me and probably every other living creature in our household...
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