2011

As 2011 is drawing to a close, I thought it would be a good time to look back at the past year and try to catch up on my blogging. Nothing like trying to put 12 months of blogging into a single post, eh?
2011 has seen some of our fur-babies leave us, including our beloved Great Dane, Bootsy, and our final kitty, Frodo.
The Luci Center lost 2 of it's retired therapy horses. We finally said good-bye to Crazy on July 5th. If you'll recall, Crazy was the horse that I taught to paint a couple of years ago. And Max we lost just a couple of weeks ago. I was the one that found him down in the field, and just knew in my heart from the moment I saw him when pulling into the farm that it was going to be a bad day, and it was. Once we finally got him into the indoor arena and awaited the vet to arrive, we just stood there loving on him and feeding him all the carrots and peppermints he wanted. Once he was gone, we knelt on the ground beside him and held onto him. Just because we don't own these horses and aren't financially responsible for them, for those of us that have volunteered there for years, we love them as if they are our own, and the loss is just as difficult.
It's been a tough year for appliances too. Our washer died on Christmas evening 2010, and the dryer wasn't in much better condition, so a new pair was purchased the next day and they were delivered on New Years Eve 2010. I love my upright washer/dryer!! Our chest-freezer bit the bullet a few weeks ago and the garbage disposal was on it's last leg, so those were replaced a couple of weeks ago. Our friends/neighbors were gracious enough to allow us to store some of our frozen foods in their extra freezer 'til the new one arrived. Then we had a field-day shopping for frozen foods to fill it. One week later, the new freezer stopped working. Horror of horrors!! It was time to impose on our friends again and attempt to salvage our grocery stock. We thought we had a faulty freezer, but instead we had to have an electrician come to the house. A new plug was installed for the freezer so it wasn't connected to an outlet that ran through the GFI circuit in the spare bathroom. The GFI had kept tripping, so that plug was replaced as well. But the problem remained. As it turned out, one of the dogs had crashed into the outlet on the back of the house and loosened it from the wall. All the rain we had was able to get into it and was 'causing the problem. So there was another plug to replace. Egads, what next?
If you read the blog I posted this morning, then you already know the answer to that question. If not, then go read it. ;)
Death wasn't limited to pets and appliances though. Of course, if working in the funeral business for the past 19 years has taught me anything, it's that death happens at any given moment to every family. My last surviving grandparent passed away Thanksgiving week as well as a cousin on the other side of the family. Several patients/residents at the nursing homes Olivia and I visit have passed, more than a few of them we had gotten to know pretty well.
2011 hasn't been all sad and bad though, there has been plent of good things happen as well.
This was the year that I seem to finally have gotten myself on track with my health. At least, I hope I'm on track. I joined a local gym at the end of January (avoided that New Years rush at the beginning of the month), and have managed to lose over 85 lbs. Yeah, the past few weeks have been difficult with all the goodies and I've put a few back on, but I have great determination to get them back off and keep going to get to my goal.
I am no longer content to just walk in charity events and 5k's, I now run them whenever possible. Well, okay, run as much as possible and stop to walk when necessary before running some more. New Years day I'm planning on running in a 10-miler, the Hangover Classic. I've never done such a distance before, and at this point, I just hope to actually finish it, regardless of how long it takes me.
2011 also saw additions to our family, other than appliances. ;)
You may recall a couple of years ago I had 3 little tree frogs that I had raised from tadpoles 'til they met with an untimely demise. Well, I now have 5 fat little froggies and all are doing quite well. And of course there is the newest fur-baby, Phoebe. She came to us two weeks after losing Bootsy, adopted from the Humane Society, and is an absolute LOVER!! She too is deaf and partially blind, although not as visually challenged as Olivia, so she gets around quite well and loves to zip around the backyard, causing us to hold our breath as we fear she'll hit something but she avoids crashing. I've never known such an affectionate dog in my life. She's currently in training to become a therapy dog.
Speaking of therapy dog... Olivia now visits several nursing homes every month on a regular basis and we've had to turn down some locations simply because we don't have the time. I think she enjoys being a therapy pet, as she gets all excited and starts spinning in circles when she sees me get her pink vest off the hook, as she knows she's going to go for a visit. Or maybe she's only excited because she's going for a car ride and going to get lots of treats. Either way, we're both having a good time in what we do.
I've given up horseback riding, if only temporarily. I hope to resume it again in the spring. I just needed to take a break as I just had too much going on in my life and too, I don't seem to handle the cold weather like I used to since losing the weight. Among the other classes I've taken this year, cardio-kickboxing and 2 hand-quilting classes. I have fallen in love with quilting and regularly hit the fabric stores... I used to hate when my grandmother would drag us from fabric store to fabric store when we were kids and I would be bored out of my mind as she browsed for what seemed like hours on end. Well, now I get it! I could spend hours in these stores. I'm hoping to take another quilting class this spring.
We finally bit the bullet and traded in John's 4-runner. It was 13 1/2 years old and it was time. He's now driving a new Sienna van and on occasion, even lets me drive it. ;) I can hardly wait 'til we can finally take a vacation roadtrip in it!
John and I have become hardcore UFC/MMA fans. We haven't missed a payperview event in the past 18 months. If they are on, you can be sure we'll be found at BW3s watching them. Our fabulous waitress even saved me several of the event posters, which I framed and had my office decorated with... 'til my company transferred me to a new location. I now have no private office space of my own. :( I hate my new job in more ways than I can count. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it. Starting with the commute which sucks. But I'm responsible for multiple locations and it's so stressful, whenever I answer the phones, I seriously have to stop and thing about where I'm at, and still I often stammer in confusion. In one place, I work in what amounts to a tiny closet that I have to share with anybody and everybody and in the other, well, let's just say it isn't much better. :( grrrrrr Fortunately at the third location, I rarely every have to actually go there, which is fortunate because I don't know where anything is in that place. The funeral directors bring the paperwork to me most of the time so I don't have to go there.
So to end on a good note...
the fights are getting ready to come on in a few minutes, so I need to get off here and get ready to go. Have a happy new year in 2012 and stay safe!!!!

Massacred!

Well, 2011 is ending on a crappy note. Would I expect anything less?
At 3:30 this morning, my kitchen looked like somebody had been massacred. Blood was all over the floor, across the front of the fridge, stove, dishwasher, cabinets, etc. etc. All over Phoebe, all over Olivia, all over me. The men-folk in the house were the only ones that escaped being covered in blood, and that's simply because one was in the bathroom and the other never got out of the crate.
Ah, the crate. That's where it all started at 3am...
For reasons I've yet to figure out, all 3 dogs seem to prefer the newer crate. It's the same exact size as the other one, so I don't know if it's because it sits inches closer to the activity-center of the house than the other, or because it's black instead of silver, or because we use the side door on it instead of the end door, or what! But prefer it they do. Especially Phoebe, since it isn't hers. Especially Phoebe, because there is usually another dog in it, and she wants what everyone else has.
By 2:50 this morning, all three dogs had been out to potty and I was packing John's lunch. Each of the girls had received their morning animal-cracker and as 3am rolled around, I was putting the finishing touches on his lunch when I heard Phoebe in the other room antagonizing Eliott because he was in the crate that she wanted to be in. Usually, Eliott grumbles a bit and then finally gives up and leaves the crate so she can have it, but not this morning. He grumbed as usual and she yipped and yapped right back at him and I thought nothing of the commotion I heard as it sounded just like what I hear every morning (and all other times of the day when she tries to get him to play. Sometimes he does, sometimes not.)
So a few minutes later, she came and stood by me in the kitchen, I didn't even glance at her as I filled our water bottles with ice. It was only when an ice cube fell on the floor and I bent to pick it up that I saw all the blood on the floor. I looked at Phoebe and was horrified to see her whole head COVERED in blood. I couldn't even tell where it was coming from there was so much of it!
I grabbed papertowels and got them wet and started wiping blood off her formerly white fur, trying to find the wound. I thought briefly that it was where her left ear met the scalp as there seemed to be a heavy concentration of blood there, but that wasn't it as that all wiped up. I finally found a tear in her right ear, about an inch from the tip.
I kept ringing the towel out and wiping her 'til she was almost clean, I blotted the wound and it seemed to have stopped bleeding so I breathed a sigh of relief that it wasn't any worse and set about cleaning all the blood up from the floor. I'd no sooner wiped up the last drop of blood than she gave her head a hard shake and sent blood flying as she opened up the wound again. Again, her head was covered in blood. Everytime she shook her head, those long floppy ears wrapped around her head and smeared the blood all over, not to mention sending it flying all over everything else. Again I got the bleeding stopped and somewhat cleaned up when again she shook her head and so this cycle kept repeating itself. By now it was 3:30 and I sent John off to work. I put in a call to the vet as I now decided it was time for stitches to help end the vicious cycle. The vet agreed to meet me at 4am so I tied a large dishtowel around Phoebe's head and left my blood soaked kitchen behind and my normally pristine white Olivia walking around in the mess to track it all over the place. Poor Olivia looked like she'd been in battle as well, as she had blood all over her as well from where Phoebe kept dripping on her.
I attempted to drive my stick-shift one-handed as I held onto Phoebe's collar to try and keep her from pawing the dishtowel off her head. Changing gears with the left hand isn't easy and holding on to a squirming dog while driving is even harder. I gave up on both and drove normally. She got the dishtowel off and then stood there dripping blood all over the inside of my car, all over the passenger seat, the arm-rest, etc. etc. It was still dark when I left to come to work, so I couldn't see just how much blood actually was in the car. I made it a point to wear dark clothing this morning, just in case I got any blood on me.
Once at the vet's office, Phoebe was sedated and stitched up. 4 stitches later...
It's unbelievable how such a tiny wound could bleed so much!!
Needless to say, I never made it to the gym this morning, but I did get my cardio up as I fretted over my wounded child and I guess I got in somewhat of a workout when I mopped the kitchen floor and crawled around wiping blood off the appliances. Hopefully I can get all the blood cleaned off my running shoes before my big race on Sunday morning.
2012 has GOT to be better than 2011!

Phoebe has a tumor

Phoebe has a tumor.
She loves her tumor, as do we. I don't think she can live without it. Odd thing to say about a tumor, but it's true.

Okay, so before any of you freak out, watch this short video clip before reading the rest of this blog:







That having been said...
This is Phoebe's "Tumor":




She carries it with her wherever she goes. She absolutely adores this toy!
Phoebe has proven to be THE most destructive dog we've ever had when it comes to dog toys. She destroys every one she gets a hold of. Kongs, mere childs play, she might as well be chewing a stick of soft butter. Virtually indestructible my arse!! However, this one toy she has singled out as her favorite and she takes very good care of it.
It's a ball-shaped, sherpa-covered stuffed toy. It's actually a left-over from our other dogs that never played with it (or destroyed). She carries it all around the house, sleeps with it, carries it outside when she goes potty, amuses herself by playing fetch with it, but never, ever, no NEVER does she chew on it or try to de-stuff it. She simply carries it around with her. If for any reason it doesn't end up in the crate with her when we have to pen her up, then you can be certain that as soon as she's turned loose, that's the first thing she does is go find her tumor.
I haven't figured out why this toy, but I'm just glad there is something that has survived. Tumor is starting to show some wear and tear as it's getting old, and even though she doesn't chew on it, let's face it, her teeth do sink into it when she carries it around, so small holes are starting to appear. I've been searching all the pet stores in hopes of finding a new one (and additional ones to put back for the future), but so far haven't been able to find any. So if anybody knows where we can purchase a new tumor, please, let me know! If nothing else, hopefully Phoebe's tumor will hold out 'til the dog show comes in to town in March and I'll be able to find one at one of the vendor boothes.
The funny thing is, despite being totally deaf, she seems to have learned to read lips or else is reading my mind. On the rare occasion that she sets tumor down when she goes outside, if she tries to come back in the house without it, all I have to do is look her in the face and say, "go get tumor", and darned if she doesn't turn and go get it. Now if we could just get her to start "listening" to us about other things.
Okay, I hope this has made you smile, as seeing her walk around with her tumor always makes us smile.

The Thanksgiving Curse

I swear, I honestly think that there is some kind of Thanksgiving Curse that's been cast upon my family, for reasons I just don't understand.
It's as if we were never meant to enjoy the month of November, ever!
At work this past Friday, the boss and I were making idle chit-chat about the upcoming holiday and I said, "yeah well, somebody in my family always dies in November". Of course, I was being facetious even though it was a semi-true statement. Little did I know what was yet to come...
As I was pulling out of the parking lot that afternoon to go home, I got a call from my mother that the doctors were calling everyone to the hospital as they didn't expect my grandmother to make it... only she did make it, exactly another 48 hours.
She passed away just after 4pm on Sunday afternoon, November 20th, 2011.
But wait, there's more.
The previous evening, one of my cousins on the other side of the family passed away.
Holy crap, we lost TWO family members this time! I guess that's to make up for having gone 13 years without a November death in our family.
I wasn't kidding when I said we always had a death in November. Two of my grandparents died on November 22, exactly 1 year apart from each other, and a great grandfather also passed on the 22nd, 50+ years ago, and another distant family member (I can't even remember the relationship now), also passed away on that date a long time ago. November sucks for us, more specifically, the 22nd. If either of our recent losses had held on until that date, I honestly would think there was some kind of curse.
So once again for our family, Thanksgiving will pass with somewhat of a shadow cast over it. And when next year rolls around, we'll be waiting with baited breath wondering who's next?
So here's where it gets even a little more creepy. We had all been talking about my grandfather and how he was waiting for her, which got me to thinking about the song "Far Side Bank of Jordan". I pulled it up on my ipod and held it to my hear to listen to the song, but I had the volume turned down low so only I could hear it. The song finished playing and I turned the ipod off when suddenly my uncle loudly goes SHHHH! Everyone grew silent and looked at my grandmother as she drew her final three breaths.
In case you've never heard the song, here it is. Listen to it and see if you'd be a little creeped out if someone passed seconds after the song finished playing...

Weekend in review & other stuff

I realize the week is nearly over, so it's a little late for a weekend in review, but better late than never, right? Maybe I should call this the "past month in review" instead.
Running season is winding down. Well, at least for me it is. Once the Santa Sprint is over in early December, that's it for me, I'll hang up my running shoes 'til spring. Competitive running that is. I'll still hit the treadmill at the gym over the winter. Hopefully, my time will continue to improve and the last few pounds will finally come off.
When I started doing 5ks waaay back when (what, 3 years ago?), I was doing good to walk them without keeling over, pretty much always finishing in last place, and usually at around the 53 minute mark, +/- a minute. Since I started going to the gym and taking off the pounds, I have finally been able to start running some of those 5ks. Maybe not running the entire distance, but at least running part(s) of it. My time has improved dramatically. I now average around 36 minutes per run, +/- a minute. Not exactly a land-speed record, but for me, that's nothing short of amazing. Of course I should probably thank Phoebe as she's so excited for that first mile when we take off, she's practically dragging me along the course. I don't know as I'd go as far or as fast if I didn't have her with me. We just finished the inaugural Louisville Pure Tap 5k this past weekend. It was sooo cold down by the river. I actually probably could've turned in a better time had #1) the course not been along river-walk which is a narrow path and there is no room to pass slower runners if there are other runners coming towards you after the turn-around, and #2) if I could tolerate wearing less clothing when it's so cold. Since losing the weight, I get so cold, so easily and really have to bundle up.
I'm taking this weekend off from running as I have a run to do on Thanksgiving morning at the YMCA and another one the next afternoon downtown. Hopefully this year it won't be raining on t-giving like it did last year. Brrr, gives me chills just thinking about it.
Phoebe's obedience classes are almost over with for the year. She's been doing pretty well in class. Of course, much of what's being taught is something I'll never use, as I would never take my dog for a walk off-lead. But I'll continue to take her to classes thru the spring, maybe early summer, as I do it more for the socialization than anything else, all in preperation of her becoming a therapy pet like Olivia.
Now for the real shocker...
I'm giving up riding lessons. At least, temporarily.
Once this month is over, I'm going to take the winter off, most likely to resume in April or once the weather has warmed back off. Did I mention I can't tolerate the cold like I used to? Ugh! I'm definitely going to miss it. Figures, after 2 1/2 years I finally learned to post on horseback and now I won't be riding. Wonder if I'll remember how when I resume??
John's dad is now back home, in his own home that is, after a stay in the nursing home in Lebanon, and once again under his daughter's care. So now John's at his sister's beck and call once again to run over and play nursemaid everytime the whim hits her. ('scuse me while I roll my eyes and bite my tongue before saying anymore).
So that's about it in a nutshell.
Have a great weekend everyone!!

The latest quilting project

Did I mention that I was re-taking the quilting class that I took last spring? It started back at the beginning of October and time flies by so quickly, it's hard to believe there is only one class left. **sniff** I do love my quilting time!! Those two hours every Wednesday absolutely goes by so quickly.
I was the only repeat student in this class, which was quite a bit larger than the previous one, and was full nearly every week. I had the option of doing a different project than the other students, but chose to do the same one again, with different material choices. I did do one panel differently, this time avoiding the Dresden plate (I hate doing applique'), intead doing a panel called "card tricks".
As I've been putting it together, I've been liking my color and pattern choices less and less. Certainly I liked the ones in my first project better, but the quality of my work this time around is so much better. Still a long way to go in the scheme of learning and getting good, but still better than before. My stitching is much more even and precise, not as hectic and uneven as before. I'm still having trouble getting my seams to line up correctly. I can't quite figure this out as I measure so carefully, twice usually, before cutting, and do my very best to follow the 1/4" seam allowance, and still, things just don't line up like they should. Oh well, live and learn. That's why I keep taking the class over, to practice and get better.
I'm planning on taking it again next spring, although I think I'll definitely do a different project next time.
I guess I should've been flattered, as a few of my fellow students frequently looked to me for advice if the teacher was busy, or just to get my input. But I
would get so flustered, for fear that I'd stear them wrong or confuse them.
Last night, I finished getting the panels put together and the sashing and border in place. I just need to get my corners mitered(sp?) and then I can begin to pin the backing and batting to it and start quilting it together.


It's gone together much faster this time around with fewer bouts of ripping things apart and starting over. So I guess in that respect I'm much improved over last time.

I'll post more pictures when it's completed.

A death in the family

The husband and I experienced a loss this week of a loved one that has been with us for a very long time. Relax! It wasn't one of our k-9 kids.
"Chester" has been around since the beginning of our marriage. He has lived in all three of our homes with us, although admittedly, he was somewhat cast aside at our #2 home and forced to live in the detached garage where he was seldom looked at, much less interacted with. It wasn't my decision, but since I didn't own the home (we lived with my f-i-l), I didn't get much say in the matter. When we moved in to our current home, I was only too happy to welcome Chester back into our lives as an active family member. And he seemed only too happy to resume his role as productive member in our household. He's been steadfast and faithful these past 23 years and I'm going to miss him.
Chester had quite an appetite and would sit there with his mouth wide open ready to accept whatever food we wanted to send his way. He wasn't picky. Aside from whenever we would feed him groceries, you hardly knew he was there. Sitting quietly in his corner of the room, only occasionally did you hear a little hum coming from him before he'd grow quiet again. I noticed Tuesday morning that Chester wasn't actually humming, but seemed to almost have the hiccups. Much like a mother would look down a child's throat for signs of redness, I opened Chester's mouth and looked inside. I was horrified by what I saw. It didn't look good. I knew the end was near for Chester. It was time to pull the plug, so I did.
So long Chester ol' buddy. You'll be missed more than you'll ever know. Thank you for your years of steadfast service to our family. As much as it pained me to end your suffering, it was for the best and the safety of all concerned. **sniff**
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Okay, so by now I'm sure you're all wondering who Chester is and why I've never mentioned him before. Well, honestly, as much as I loved Chester, he wasn't the warmest, or exactly a cuddly kind of family member. In truth, he was hard and had a cold demeanor. But those were good things.
Chester was our deep-freeze, aka: chest freezer.
Yes, it's true. He was an appliance.
When John & I first moved in together nearly 24 years ago, the first appliance we bought was a refrigerator, quickly followed by a washer and dryer. After that came our first luxury appliance, our deep-freeze. Chester. I honestly don't know how any family can get along without a separate freezer, I mean, aside from the one that's a part of the kitchen refrigerator. He's held our large bags of frozen vegetables, the many frozen pizzas I buy from Schwan's, the ice blocks & frozen gel-bags we keep ready for use in a cooler or on a bruised/sprained body part, and the large quantities of whatever we have found on sale and stocked up on. Our freezer was filled to the brim and when I opened it Tuesday morning and it appearred to only be half full, I knew that Chester was dying an agonizing death. I quickly closed the lid and discussed it with the husband. We decided to beg the neighbors to let us put as much of our still frozen food items in their freezer as they had room for. Fortunately, they had quite a bit of room. A few items were tossed out that in all honesty, probably should've been tossed out a long time ago (years ago?). I took 6 lbs. of not-so-frozen mixed fruit and pureed it, so I'm thinking a lot of daiquiries (sp?) might get made and drunk this weekend. Perhaps we need to have a party around the fireplace.
The pie crusts are thawing in my fridge and I'm planning on making chicken pot pie tomorrow night, and then I'll be doing some serious cooking this weekend, something I haven't done in a long time, so I can use up some of the stuff. We shall eat well.

All in the Family

I've been away for a while. Not just from bloggy world, but literally, away. I've been house/kennel-sitting for my friend for the past 10 days. Glad that's over!

I was struck with the realization while there, that every single dog I was caring for, was directly related to my Olivia. That hasn't always been the case in years past, unless they were like distant cousins. This time though, the familial ties are much closer. Many of these dogs you've "met" over the years, but they are aging gracefully as they enter their senior years.

This is Bella. She was our Bootsy's litter-sister, and half-sister to Olivia.

This is Sara. She and Olivia are full-sisters, just from different litters. Every time I see Sara, I see more and more of a resemblance between her and Livvie. Of course not in the markings, but in the structure of their heads and in their eyes. Did I mention she's a retired champion??

This is Candy, Sara's daughter/Olivia's niece.

This is Sawyer. He's Bella's son/Olivia's (half)-nephew. Also a retired champion, at the ripe old age of 3!!



And this little cutey is Little Bootsy. She's one of Candy & Sawyer's babies. Sara & Bella are her grandmothers, making her Olivia's great-niece.


And last but not least is Magic. She and Sawyer are litter-mates, making her Olivia's (half)-niece.



Now for some updated pix of my kids:

See that green thing under Phoebe? She had her Kong tucked in between her legs and it looked like she was trying to hatch an egg.


Is it too early to start humiliating the dogs for Christmas?
My quilting teacher made the holly-collar for the dogs so they took turns modeling it for her. Phoebe doesn't ever seem to mind getting "dressed up". She's so agreeable to anything we do to her.

Can't really say the same about the others. We have to snap their pictures really fast before they start trying to wiggle out of things.

Olivia looks embarrassed, doesn't she?


Eliott is just glad to have some attention directed towards him for a change.

Halloween costume

People are forever making rude comments and referring to our dogs as horses. So when John saw this halloween costume for dogs the other day, he just had to get it:




A rather appropriate costume considering we live in the city famous for the Kentucky Derby.

Catching up

It's been a while since I've done any posts. To say that I've been busy would be an understatement. I don't even remember what my last post was.
Did I mention my employer was transferring me to a new office? When I returned from my vacation back at the beginning of October, I had to start reporting to the regional office in town. Mileage wise, it's about 4 miles closer than my old office. Travel time, it takes me anywhere from 8 - 20 minutes longer to get there because my commute went from being all interstate going away from the city to suddenly never getting on the interstate and sitting in rush hour traffic and passing through over a half dozen school zones and more trafficd lights than I can begin to count, so you can imagine how slow the traffic moves!!
I hate my new position with a passion. I didn't want it, didn't ask for the transfer, but suppose I should just be thankful to have a job in this economy. But it's hard to be thankful when you're someplace you don't want to be. I had to fight back tears at least 4 different times the first day alone and on a few occasions since then. I'm now responsible fore three offices, one of which I've never even been to (all that paperwork comes to me), and it's just nearly impossible to juggle the workload for three places. I can't keep up with the 2nd office I had already acquired, because my new office is so busy, it's hard for me to get away and do my work. And when I'm there, they won't leave me alone to get my work done.
I've actually got a mountain of work sitting in front of me now, but just had to take a break from it or else thought I'd lose my mind.
When I'm not at work, I'm staying super-uber busy at home as well. Between riding lessons, quilting classes, obedience school for Phoebe, nursing home visits for Olivia and doing 5k's or charity walks on the weekends, it doesn't leave much time for me to just take a breath and relax. We got a new laptop a month ago, and I still haven't had time to do much with it. My cell phone crapped out a couple of weeks ago as well and I got a new iphone, but again, I haven't had the time to really figure out much of what it does. Other than putting my contacts in it and some of my itunes, that's about all I've gotten done. I haven't had time to read the manual that came with it and figure out how the wifi works so I'll have internet at home. Oh well, one of these days.....
I'm still going to the gym most mornings. I have missed a few of late either because of my schedule or being sick (horrible allergies of late). Finally broke through a plateau I was on for the past three months and am now down 87 lbs., 8 more to go to reach my goal. After that, I'll reassess where I'm at and what I want/need to do from there to either lose more or just tone up and maintain that weight.
Life is good otherwise. Just the job sucks!
Hope everyone in blog-land is doing well.

Little Houdini

Either I am seriously losing my mind, or Phoebe is proving to be a little Houdini.
On the way home from work Wednesday, I got a phone call from my husband who had just arrived home. He asked me if I'd forgotten something when I left for work that morning. My mind started frantically trying to remember if I'd left an appliance plugged in, or perhaps the front door standing wide open. The possibilities were endless and of course I was about to get upset that something had happened to the house, or worse, the dogs.
Well, something did happen to the house, but not because I'd left something plugged in or the front door open. Apparently when I put Phoebe in her crate, I somehow failed to get both latches secured properly, and at some point during the day she discovered she could have free roam of the house. Needless to say, she took full advantage of the opportunity and had a field day! She knocked over the gate that keeps them out of our front bedroom (aka our "storage area"). In there she found several bags of dog treats that belonged to our therapy-pet group to use at functions/fund-raisers, she found bags of halloween candy, stuffed animals, papers to chew up, and all sorts of things she could've gotten in to, but probably ran out of time before being busted. Amazingly enough, she completely by-passed the giant box of giant dog biscuits that was already opened. As one bag of the candy had already been opened, it was hard to tell if she'd eaten any (wrapper and all) or just scattered them around the house. The papers she chewed up were fliers for the therapy-pet group. Most everything she got in to belonged to the group, which makes me wonder if she somehow knew that and was trying to tell me what she thought of becoming a therapy pet.
Of course I looked at Eliott and asked if he'd let her out and then stood back rooting her on, hoping she'd get in lots of trouble.
Okay, so she made a mess, and may or maynot have eaten some candy and papers. Amazingly enough, she hadn't eaten the dog treats, just drug out all the bags and scattered them around the house.
So then this morning, I once again locked her in the crate and headed to the gym. I returned a little over an hour later and she was curled up, sound asleep in the crate. I went to the bedroom to change clothes. Next thing I know, she's standing at the bedroom door "talking" to me as only Phoebe can do. Now HOW had she gotten out this time?
I'll accept that I messed up once, but TWICE in less than 24 hours? I don't think so!! I think she's figured out how to get the door open by herself. Maybe she mentally focuses on the locks and uses ESP or something to slide the latches open. Either way, I'm buying some clips at the hardware store this eveing to help keep the doors closed.

F.E.A.T. 5k

Sad day

Well, I've posted some of our weekend activities on our therapy-pet blog, and I'm basically too lazy right now to post it again over here, so if you'd like to read/see it, click the link.

It's been a rather sad week around here thus far, and it's only tuesday. :(
The bad news is: After this friday, I'll no longer be working at my job.
The good news is: at least I still have a job.

**sigh**

I'm being transferred to a different location. Distancewise, it's closer to my house, but as I'll now be sitting in rush-hour traffic to get there, it will take me as long, if not longer to get there. I'm having more work dumped on me for the same pay. I'm losing my nice big, private (sort of) office. And here is the part that has me the most upset, I'll no longer be able to bring Olivia to work with me and then visit the nursing home afterwards.
Oh sure, I can still drive all the way out to LaGrange and visit the nursing home if I'd like, but now I'll have to work it into my schedule either in the evenings or on the weekends (in other words, on my own time). It's not that I mind doing n.h. visits on my own time, most of them I do is on my own time, but I have so little time available in the evenings or weekends to be able to drive all the way out here, that I'll most certainly have to reduce the frequency of my visits. I'm truly bummed out. It has become such an important part of my life, I feel like I'm losing a dear friend. :(
I've been fighting the tears, yesterday after I got the news, again this morning while on the treadmill, again a bit later on the drive to work. No, I'm not a happy camper. But in this economy, I just need to be thankful I have a job and that I'm not commuting across the river right now what with the Sherman Minton bridge having been shut down. **sigh**
I've been working all morning trying to get my personal files, my itunes library and photos off the work computers. I'm going to have to break down and purchase a computer for home. I don't know what kind of time I'll have at my new location to blog, so my blogs my become even fewer and farther between for a while. But I'll still check my email, so for those of you that have my address, feel free to contact me. I may be fretting for nothing. Who knows? I may have more free time on my hands than ever before. Seriously, the whole nursing home thing and the commute are the two things that are bumming me out the most.

Jump-start my heart please

I've been working my butt off for the past 6 weeks for our therapy pet group which will have a booth in an event that is hosted by the local animal shelter.
I mailed the paperwork back to them weeks ago. Fortunately, I kept a copy. They mailed a confirmation letter to our group's president. I just called them a few minutes ago to ask a question about booth set-up in the morning, and was promptly informed they had no record of us having sent in the paperwork, thus meaning they hadn't designated booth space for us.
I don't know as my heart has ever beat so hard before in my life! I felt absolute nausea come over me and I was sure I was near to having a heart attack.
As I said, I've been working my tail off, trying to round up volunteers to help work the booth, printing up fliers and raffle tickets, getting a banner made, countless trips to the store, list after list made, checked off, updated and revised...
I've been begging for donations from my employers so we'd have items to raffle off and generally spreading the word for everyone to come out and see us at the event.
Then for the event coordinator to suddenly tell me there was no record of us attending the event! I felt all my hard work going down the drain and wondered how on earth I was going to explain to all those people why we weren't there.
Sick doesn't even begin to do justice to the sinking feeling I had.
Fortunately, the woman said they would still let us in. I quickly faxed over the copies I'd made and called her back to confirm she'd gotten them.
Lesson learned: for future events, do a follow-up call to confirm that our applications are received. I mean, good grief! What would've happened if we'd just shown up in the morning and they had no record of us??

Weekend in review

It was another busy, busy weekend! First I took the girls down to Waterfront Park for the Alzheimer's Walk. We made some new friends (potential clients for our therapy pet group) and ran into some old ones too.

After the walk was over, I heard someone calling my name. It was Dan, a guy I've known since 2nd grade, but hadn't seen since graduation until that is, our 25th reunion back in June. Now here turns up again, kinda like a bad penny. Sorry Dan, not implying you're bad. ;) But I had him take this photo for me.


It's not easy trying to get the girls to both sit AND stay AND face the same direction all at the same time WHILE I'm trying to take their picture. This morning, I did hear back from one of the ladies we met, and I'm to start taking Olivia to a new facility starting next week. The lady was so nice and is just so excited to have us visit.


We also ran into another old friend, Doug and his Great Dane, Noel, and his daughter Aleah (hope I spelled that correctly). Our first dane, Smokey, and his first dane, Nip, were litter mates. We had a chance meeting at the park one day when we were there with our dogs, got to talking and discovered they were brother/sister. I've stayed in touch with the family ever since, thru their many fur-babies and ours.



Phoebe was doing a little modeling for me.
None of our other dogs have liked wearing the Doggles, but she didn't seem to mind one bit. How cute is she???

The look on her face says "Who, me?"

She was so exhausted after the Alz. walk, she passed out when we got home. It's hard work being an affectionate dog with hundreds of people wanting to pet you.

I do love it whenever I can get a group-photo of the kids together.

"If It Should Be"

If it should be that I grow weak,
And pain should keep me from my sleep,
Then you must do what must be done,
For this last battle cannot be won.
You will be sad, I understand,
Don't let your grief then stay your hand,
For this day more than all the rest,
You love for me must stand the test.
We've had so many happy years,
What is to come can hold no fears,
You'd not want me to suffer so,
The time has come, please let me go.
Take me where my need they'll tend,
And please stay with me until the end,
I know in time that you will see,
The kindness that you did for me,
Although my tail its last has waved,
From pain and suffering I've been saved.
Please do not grieve, it must be you
Who has this painful thing to do,
We've been so close, we two, these years,
Don't let your heart hold back its tears.
-Anonymous-

And then there were none

For years now, I've been looking forward to the day when my house would be cat-free. With the passing of each kitty, it brought me a little bit closer to the day when I'd no longer have to be rudely awakened in the middle of the night to a cat coughing up a fur-ball, or the mornings when I'd sleepily get out of bed and put my foot into my slipper, only to find cat vomit in it, or sort the laundry into piles on laundry day, then scoop a pile up into my arms only to discover that one of them had urinated on the pile and now that horrid scent was all over me and the clothes I was wearing. GRRRRR!!! No more litter boxes to scoop out, no more random pieces of litter found here and there on furniture where it falls from between their toes, no more... well, you get the idea. I'm not really a cat person. That's not to say I dislike cats, I'm just more of a dog-person. But since I had made the decision to take on the responsibility of their care many, many years ago when they were kittens, then I was going to see my commitment through 'til the end. I would see to their needs and when the time and they were no longer enjoying life, then I would see to it their suffering ended in a humane way.

I don't think I shed any tears when we put BJ down. I know I didn't when we lost Pudge (and she was my favorite of the three). And I was sure when Frodo's time came, that there would be a silent celebration going on in, if only in my mind. So imagine my own surprise when I actually cried when I had to drop him off at the vet this morning. Granted, I wasn't sobbing endlessly as when we've had to put down one of our dogs, but I cried none the less.
Frodo has been losing weight over the past couple of months, so I was reasonably sure he wouldn't make it 'til the end of the year. He was always the largest of our three, yet he still wasn't a very big kitty. Perhaps 9 or 10 lbs. at most. And he was always my least favorite. I know that's not a nice thing to say, but I'm just being honest.

Saturday morning, I suddenly realized I hadn't seen him all day, and that I probably hadn't seen him since perhaps earlier the day before. I started looking around but couldn't find him. I made sure he wasn't locked in any of the closests by accident, as would occasionally happen, and felt he was hiding behind a piece of furniture somewhere. I left the house and ran a few errands. When I returned around noon, I finally found him on his perch by the bedroom window. I sat on the edge of the bed and talked to him, but he continued facing towards the window. I called him repeatedly, but there was no indication he heard me. Either he was ignoring me or he'd completely lost his hearing, or else he was so weak, he didn't have the energy to turn and look at me. I picked him up and suddenly realized just how much weight he truly had lost. I sat him on the bed and he seemed unsteady on his feet. I sighed deeply with the realization that "it was time" and placed him back on his perch and went to call the vet. It was already after 12pm and they were closed for the long holiday weekend. What to do what to do?? He wasn't gasping for breath, he was having seizures, he wasn't coughing up blood, so I really didn't consider this an emergency euthanazia. I decided to wait 'til Tuesday morning.
I placed Frodo in our bathroom where his litter boxes, food and water were located and shut the door to keep him confined. If by chance he was going to pass on his own, I didn't want it to be behind a piece of furniture where we would have a hard time getting to him. I placed a folded up towel on the floor so he'd have something soft to lay on and headed to the farm.

When I returned that evening, he had peed on the towel and was hiding behind the toilet. That is where he stayed the rest of the weekend, only venturing out long enough to get a bit of water and use his litter box. He never touched his food the whole weekend. When I went to the store last night, I picked up some canned food, something I never fed my cats. I sat the opened can of food in the floor and retrieved him from behind the toilet. He didn't hesitate but started eating greedily. I was afraid he'd end up vomiting up the food he was eating so fast and after having fasted for so many days. But he managed to keep down what little he did eat. He didn't even come close to eating a 1/3 of the serving.

I didn't even call the vets office this morning as I knew they'd make me set an appointment for later today. I didn't want to leave him suffering any longer than was necessary, nor did I want to come home later today to find a dead cat in my bathroom, even though I'd been expecting to find him that way all weekend. I just showed up at the vet's carrying little Frodo wrapped in a towel. By the time I got to the counter, I was sobbing and begging them to put him down despite me not having an appointment. I was almost embarrassed to take him in in the condition that he was, as it looked like we had deliberately starved him. But he's had an endless supply of food waiting for him, he just wouldn't eat, and he literally turned skeletal in the past few days. If anyone had told me an animal could decline so rapidly in such a short time, I don't know as I would have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes.

So I found it somewhat disconcerting that I was so upset over the passing of our final kitty. Something that I had been almost looking forward to for quite some time now. Just not in this way.

This is(was) Frodo. He turned 19 this month, although his exact date of birth I'm not sure of, I just know it was sometime around Labor Day 1992. He came to us along with his twin brother, Billbo. I was the only one that could ever tell them apart they looked so much alike. Frodo had 1/2 of a "mustache" on the left side of his nose and Billbo had the other 1/2 on the right side of his nose. Their eyes were a different shade of green and Billbo's were slightly slanted, but other than that, their markings were identical. Unfortunately, I don't have any pictures of him. He disappeared a few months after we got them.

We were living at my f-i-l's place at the time and he had lost both of his cats. The mice and moles were starting to take over so we needed some new barn cats. Of course the humane society and animal care society aren't going to allow you to adopt a pet if it's only going to be living outside/in a barn. But fate stepped in at the time. I had left my name with the woman at the A.C.S. and later that day she called me and said I guy had called her about two 6-month old kittens he'd found on the side of the road as newborns (someone had dumped them!), and now he wanted to find homes for them. She gave me his number and we took the pair off his hands. He'd already named them Billbo & Frodo, so we let the names remain.

The dog we had at the time had never liked cats before, yet he seemed to accept these two little waifs. Either they were very bold kittens to stand up to a dog that didn't like them, or else very stupid. Either way, they won him over. Frodo did disappear for a few days once, only to reappear at the backdoor, battered and with a broken hip, having drug himself home from wherever he'd ventured off to. I shelled out the bucks to have the little guy put back together and while he healed, he got to live indoors. Once he was all better though, he returned to the barn with Billbo who then disappearred, never to return.

When we moved from my f-i-l's place, I brough Frodo with us and he became an indoor kitty for good. He was always at the bottom of the pecking order, the other two cats, despite being smaller, beat up on him when it came to food and toys or just because they felt like it sometimes. As Great Danes came into our lives, Frodo befriended them as he had our old dog. Again, whether it was because he was brave to stand up to such a huge animal or because he was that dumb, I'm not sure. When our Kelsey had to have two surgeries because of her Wobbler's Syndrome, Frodo was of great comfort to her both times she came home from the hospital. He would go and lay by her, nuzzling her face with his as if to say "I hope you feel better soon".

Bootsy & Eliott never were won over by his charm and I think would've relished the opportunity to rip him limb from limb. But Smokey, Kelsey and Olivia have all loved him. He even tolerated Phoebe as she pulled tufts of hair from his body and spit them out.

Farewell little Frodo. You can now once again cuddle with Kelsey and see your long lost brother, Billbo. **sniff**

I've got a dirty mind

I've got a dirty mind.








I've been keeping it a secret for a long time.








So what kind of dirty thoughts have I been having?








Really dirty. Down right filthy!








Are you ready for this?








I want to play in the mud.








Seriously.







I've always thought that mud wrestling looked like fun. Not that I really want to wrestle with anyone, but just rolling around in the mud looks like fun.







Earlier this week I posted a challenge to the other members on the community bulletin board our gym has (nationwide) and challenged all of them, regardless of their fitness level, to participate in a 5k event sometime in the month of September. Doesn't matter if they walk, jog, run or crawl, just get out there and DO IT!
One of the other gals took me up on my challenge and is doing a Warrior Dash. I'd never heard of such a thing but my interest was piqued so I googled it. Then I really got intrigued! A Warrior Dash is a 5k with an obstacle course thrown in along with wading across a creek, diving into the mud, jumping over burning logs, crawling under barbed wire... just to name a few of the obstacles. I went to Youtube and watch some videos and they looked like TOO MUCH FUNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Where is the closest one and when is it??

Well, a Warrior Dash isn't like your everyday 5k, obviously. 5k's are a dime a dozen in our community. You'd be hard pressed to find 10 weekends out of the entire year in our area that isn't having some kind of running event. But nothing at all like this. I searched the web and the closest one I could find was about a 3 hour drive from home, up in Indiana. Hey, that's okay, sign me up! The next event though is in August of 2012. Darn!! (Click the links to see more about it)
Okay, who am I kidding? Part of me is ready to do it right now, but in all honesty, I know I'm not physically ready for such an event. This gives me 11 and a half months to get ready for it. But right now I am so stoked I can hardly wait for the next year to pass!! I'm even considering getting some sessions with the personal trainer at the gym to help me get ready.
Only 346 days to go!
Let the dirty fun begin!
I

Lazy Lazarus Lives

Yesterday evening, I was feeling rather lowly. I had sat one of my tanks of tadpoles outside around noon time. It was the tank that had the more-developed batch of tadpoles and froglets. I had read that they develop quicker in warmer temperatures and feeling that perhaps it was a bit too cool in our house, I thought I'd be doing them a favor by setting them outside in the warmer air. I made sure to put them in a shady spot, a spot I knew would still be shaded when we returned home that evening. But shade or no shade, I guess it got a bit too warm for the little critters. **sniff**
Imagine my horror when I got home that evening and found 2 of the tadpoles dead and one of the little froglets barely clinging to life.
The three froglets that had already emerged seemed to be fine, but one that had obviously spent some time out of the water (he no longer had a tail), didn't fair so well. He was bobbing along in the water like a cork, all four legs splayed out before him. He didn't rest on the bottom as some were doing and he wasn't hovering just below the surface of the water, he was simply floating along in the middle. He looked dead. Every so often, he seemed to rally and would suddenly come to life and swim a few strokes in a valiant effort to reach the surface, trying with all his might to jump up out of the water and cling to the wall of their enclosure, but he just couldn't get enough umph in his leap and he'd sink back into the water where he'd once again float along without movement. I watched him do this for quite a while and eventually he stopped trying. I saw no movement, not even when I jiggled the tank which makes all the others scurry around. I got a plastic spoon to try and fish him out. I nudged him, nothing. After a few failed attempts (he kept sliding off the spoon and back into the water), I finally was able to fish him out. He laid lifeless in the spoon. I laid the spoon on the patio and went to fetch a dog-poop bag (an empty one) that we kept just inside the backdoor. I deposited the froglet and sat the bag by the pooper scooper to use later when the dogs did their business.
And of course later that night, Phoebe did her business, which I promptly scooped up and deposited into the bag along with the dead froglet and one other tadpole I'd fished out. The other dead tadpole had been fished out earlier and deposited in a full doody-bag and put in the dumpster. Indeed, it was a sad day in my tadpole world.
This morning I let the dogs out again to do their business. Both Eliott and Phoebe left me a present in the yard so I set about with the scooper and scooped up their gifts. I picked up the bag that was still lying there from last night and untied the handles to open it up wide. Imagine my surprise to find the little froglet clinging to the side of the bag, staring up at me, just waiting for the chance to escape. It was a miracle!! Actually, it was a miracle it could stand to breath considering it was trapped with a large pile of dog poop just inches away all night.
So I rescued the little froglet once again and put him in a tank all by himself. I've named him "Lazy Lazarus".
I know he wasn't "dead" for four days as was Lazarus, but that's okay. I thought about calling him Jesus (Hay-soos), but decided he was just being very lazy, floating along in the warm water, so Lazy-Lazarus he is now called. He is one that I'm definitely going to keep and not return tot he wild. Right now, he's at work with me, being very active and hopping all over his tank.

So I thought this song "Po' Lazarus" would be appropriate under the circumstances. If you'll recall in the movie "O' Brother Where Art Thou?", John Turturro's character "came back to life as a frog" after he'd been loved-up...

Cardio Kick-XXXing class

Last night was the first class in my cardio kickass class. Oh, um, I mean, kickBOXing class.
Fortunately, it's a small class, only 4 students. Two other women about my age and a teenager. The instructor looked like she could kick any (if not ALL) of our butts with one arm tied behind her back and not even break a sweat doing so. I wouldn't want to run into her in a dark alley, and if I were ever in a fight with someone, I'd definitely want her on my side. But as imposing as she is, she seemed like an absolute sweetheart.
She promised to keep it low-impact and low-intensity last night as we were all beginners, but by the end of the hour, I felt like I'd just completed the Ironman Tri-athalon. She told us the intensity would increase every week. Increase? Holy cr@p!! It was all I could do to keep up at the low impact level. I can't even begin to imagine how intense it's going to be at the end of 6 weeks!!!!
After showing us how to execute each kind of kick and punch, she started putting them all together in a "routine" and stepped up the pace. The punches I had no problem keeping up, but when it came to the kicks, well, my long legs just don't move that fast. I was just finishing executing my first kick while the girl next to me was getting ready to start her third kick, and even at that, I wasn't getting my kicks executed properly as I was trying frantically t0 keep up. I was of course standing in the front row, so I have no idea how the other two women behind me were doing, and is it really fair to compare myself to a girl that's about 18 and pencil thin? No, I don't think so either. And omg, I had such a hard time balancing on one foot to do anything! I guess I still have a lot of room for improvement in my journey to a new me.

I drained my 32oz bottle of water and had to re-fill it from the water fountain before leaving last night. I think next week that 2 bottles are in order. On week three, we're supposed to add stretchy-bands and small weights to the routine. Yikes!!
I feared I wouldn't even be able to roll out of bed this morning, much less be able to go to the gym as usual, but I did. Yes, many of my muscles are aching, some of the joints too, although not as bad as I'd feared. Mostly my shoulders and sides(obliques) are what's hurting the most.
Many of the moves she had us doing (aside from the punches and kickboxing-kicks) were identical to things I did when I worked out to my Richard Simmons tapes, only it was like doing his work-out on steroids or like playing a 33-lp on a 45-speed (for you youngsters, that's a reference to back when music was played on a record player... go ask your grandmother what I'm talking about). It made me feel like dusting off those videos and giving them another whirl.
Cardio kickboxing, it's not for the faint of heart. But I'll get these final few pounds off or die trying....

Update on Phoebe and the other kids

I thought it was time for some updated photos of Pheebs. I haven't weighed her recently, but I can tell she's put on quite a bit of weight since we got her. Her ribs aren't nearly as pronounced as they were.
She loves to aggravate Eliott every chance she gets. Sometimes he doesn't mind and they get to wrestling around on the floor, but occasionally he gets a bit cranky and wants no part of it. Fortunately, in these pix, he was in a playful mood.
Please pardon our mess on the floor. Pretty much every toy they own was scattered about.

Kind of looks like they're playing kissy-face.

Olivia ventured over to check out the action.

And now she's decided she wants no part of it so she's leaving.

Phoebe & Olivia actually play very well together also. They like to play tug-o-war with any "skin" of a formerly stuffed animal. It's so cute to see Olivia teasing Pheebs, walking past her, dangling the toy in front of her until Phoebe takes the bait and holds on to the other end, taking turns dragging each other around the room.

I took these outdoor photos this morning.

Eliott was checking out the bushes, trying to decide if they needed to be "watered".

Phoebe just loves to stand on her hind legs and watch people walk by. She rarely ever barks, just watches the world pass by.

And once her curiosity is satisfied, she's off! Zipping around the yard, it's hard to get a decent picture of her as she's in constant motion...

And then there is that rare moment...

when she does stand still and allow me to take her picture.

Sunday evening as we took the girls out for their evening walk, we hadn't gotten very far, just to the intersection behind our house. The girls of course sat as they are supposed to do when we stop, and then to my surprise, a couple of neighbors across the road came out of their house flagging us down, asking to meet the new pup.

These people have lived in that house for probably 5 or 6 years and I can count on one hand with fingers to spare how many conversations we've had with them. I don't even know their names (first or last). The last conversation I did have with the husband was a couple of days after we got Phoebe. He had seen me walking her and commented that he'd seen one at the Humane Soc. that looked just like her. I smiled and told him she was in fact that pup.

So they crossed the street and Phoebe immediately leaned on the woman as she petted her. We talked and she told me as her husband had about having seen her at the KHS. They had adopted a cat that same week apparently, and had planned on telling us about the dane pup that was up for adoption, but hadn't gotten the chance to tell us. As it turned out, we were already in the process of making her ours. While we talked, Phoebe continued to lean and soak up the attention being showered upon her and Olivia sat patiently, looking to John for the occasional treat for sitting so pretty.

The woman then said something that made my heart swell with pride. She commented that our dogs were always so well-mannered.

THAT is exactly the kind of remark I love to hear. Of course we all enjoy hearing that others think our pets are cute/pretty, or fun to watch, but I'll take the "well mannered" compliment over all others any day!!