Eat till you burst

We have a 22 pound turkey, a 12 pound ham, and Josh is making a lasagne. There will be all the fixings and pie for desert an already I am stuffed just thinking about it. The turkey will be done in the electric roaster and not in a paper bag like my mother insisted was the only way to cook a turkey. Remember that fiasco where my sister served bloody turkey because she swore that once the skin was brown the turkey was done. That will forever be known as the Thanksgivingof the salad. Salad was my contribution to the meal and that was all we ate. To this day, moist chicken gives me the heebie jeebies reminding me of oozing pink turkey.

We all know that one sock goes missing phenomenom. But can anyone explain how come I have 15 lids to serving dishes and two serving dishes that DON'T MATCH THE LIDS! I buy the lidded dishes in the local not Dollar Tree dollar store so that left overs can go in the fridge in their bowls. I have all of these lids but the bowls are AWOL. Even with the sons checking their rooms and all my searching, I haven't been able to find the bowls. I could see the lids going missing as with almost all of my containers but the bowls. So I bought 9 at the dollar store and I think I will find aplace to hide them until Christmas but knowing me, I'll forget that place.

I even bought additional silverware to use and heavy duty glass mugs for drinks. It's only the four of us and whoever else just shows up, so I consider us set.

But now the important decision.... do I want to go out for lunch today or eat in? Decisions, decisions, decisions.

Breathe breathe breathe, just one damned thing after another.

Hannibal, Tepish, Schicklegruber

What I miss about not working at the library is the occasional intelligent conversation that could be had. All in all, people who work in a library really are everyday people with everyday conversations but sometimes you find that gem whose brains seems to be firing the same synopsis as yours. I had that with two people in all the years working there. People who could connect the dots and the two of you would laugh your pants off or just shake your head over something while others around you looked at you as if you had lost your mind.

And then.... duh!... I realised I've had it all along with my older son. For instance... he was watching a rerun of a newer Simpsons where Montgomery Burns has to write out his full name: Montgomer Hannibal Tepish Schicklegruber Burns. Josh comes running upstairs to tell me this and we are laughing our butts off. Now before you run a google the names, I'll save you the journey. Hannibal is Hannibal, Tepish is the last name of Vlad Tepish or Vlad the Impaler whom Bram Stoker fashioned his vampire Dracula after. Good old Vlad was so bad they couldn't even come up with a word for it. Not only did he impale people but he was known to nail mens' hats to their heads.

But Schicklegruber you say who in the heck is this Schicklegruber guy and howcome we've never heard of him. Oh you have heard of him but only in his other name. He changed if from Schicklegruber I suppose because Heil Shicklegruber doesn't have the same ring as Heil Hitler.

Yes, obscure useless bits of facts that few would appreciate.

Then there are the doozies of mis speech where we are told that electricity was invented and that in 1975 DNA wasn't discovered yet. Right. I learned about DNA in biology class in 1968 and electriucity could have been discovered or harnessed but not invented. And these are shows like Nat Geo or the History or the Discovery Channel. If the Simpson can get Schicklegrueber right why can't the other channels have some kind of proof readers or whatever you would call the people who would check for such inaccuracies?

The SImpsons.... go figure.

Huh? Wha!!

I was watching the National Geographic Channel on Saturday. First up was the hunt for the Boston Strangler where it was said that he was America's first serial killer. Date 1967. Huh? Wha? I watched it and left the channel on. Next up was Murder in the White City about H.H. Holmes who built a murder mansion and killed 27 people (at least) during the Columbian Exposition in Chicago in 1893. Huh? Wha! Does 27 people not make a serial killing? And then, and then came Jack the Ripper 1888. Yes JAck was in London HOWEVER according to the show, the reason he stopped killing in London was because he was a german sailor who shipped out to New York where he killed two women and maybe more. Huh? Wha?

So... the question is, how is Albert DiSalvo the Boston strangler America's FIRST serial killer? Only to have that disproved with the next show and the next. I'm not even talking about Ed Gein or Belle Guiness and all the others that came before them. I'm just talking one show after the other.

It't the same with the ghost shows. I can't begin to tell you how many houses are the MOST HAUNTED in America. Doesn't most mean most? Isn't anyone at the networks paying attention or do they think we are all idiots and we won't notice ? Well yooo hooo Nat Geo I NOTICED>

Whew. There. I feel better.

the husband and I got our subpoenas for the bank robbery we were witness, sort of, to. All I can testify is that I got the license number and I was the one who told the cops afterwards that the bad guys threw away money as they were running up the alley. Can't think of what more they cold ask so my testimony should be short. The husband however is another matter and I suspect that they will have a hard time reigning him in to tell what happened and not go back tot he beginning or the world and work his way forward. I am hoping that they will ask me why I followed the guys. I have that all figured out. I'll simply tell them that unless I was to throw myself out of the car as we went around a corner I was going along for the ride. I'm hoping for a chuckle at least. Yes, I will be a good girl and will answer without embellishing. December 8 at 9am which means the Beltway at rush hour....yuck.

It's been a year since we learned that we would be losing Rocco the Wonder Dog too early. Yes I have two dogs now, Charlie and Kali but they are not my Rocco or my Ollie. Charlie and Kali aren't big on hugs and cuddling and my arms feel so empty. Charlie was a cuddler until we got Kali and now she fills that void for him. I don't blame him or her, I just wish I had someone to cuddle.

I may be getting a job teaching crafts at a local senior center. I may have been guided by the winged things and the double digits to head toward that despite the fact that I have no confidence that I can do that job and do it well. I'm guessing the angels know better than me and so I will trust them, again.

We are innundated with Christmas already. It started before Halloween. I'm not ready for Christmas, I don't want Christmas. When I think of Christmas, I think of a dying dog and what I lost when he went. There is one positive point tho, I don't work in a place where the &@^ Christmas music is piped in constantly. That really could drive someone insane. And even with saying that, I am making polymer clay owls to go into the little bird cages from Michaels to hang on my tree along with chinese tassles and polymer clay covered ornaments. I bought those small birdcages so I suppose I should use them.

That's it for today. I'm wondering if I should try blogging more often or am I just opening myself up to defeat. I'll have to think hard about that one.

An answer... of sorts

An online friend of mine took pity on me and gave me the name and number of another friend of hers who is a psychic. So I called the psychic and told her my woes about the double digits and the winged things and about the nasty replies I got when I posted my questions on the ghost list I joined.

Whew.

This is what she said.

I am NOT paranoid. I do NOT need to see a therapist. (at least for this stuff. She didn't say that, I did) There is no such thing as coincidences and what I'm seeing doesn't necessarily mean that someone, animal or not, is going to die. She did suggest that when these things happen to sit still for a moment and see what pops into my head. If nothing pops then make a note of what happened and see what comes after. The numbers and the winged things is the Cosmos , for lack of a better name, trying to give me a heads up and to pay attention. The Cosmos is just trying to tell me something. She also suggested a book called Animals Speak that would tell me what the sighting of different animals, insects and the like might mean.

Over the weekend 2:22 popped up twice, one day after the other. I did sit and think but I think I was thinking too hard because nothing came to me. After the first 2:22 I did have an opportunity to do a random act of kindness to someone but nothing revealed itself after the second 2:22. Of course I didn 't leave the house all weekend so who know what I may have missed.

This has really relieved my mind. I don't want to go through what I did earlier this year losing animals right and left. Even our ancient cat Frankie died in her sleep but we knew that was coming and I handled it well. Still al the deaths and the support I didn't get at home has broken me in ways I'm still discovering. Yes, I know I shouldn't get so attached to those who love me and who I love in return. Yes, I know they were just animals, I have been told that often enough but as bad as it was to lose them it was even worse to watch them decline and horrible to be the one to finally say it was time for the last trip to the vet or to watch Patty slowly die, on my own, all of her care left up to me. And I have been having my heart trampled upon by one son who can't even bring himself to say hello to me when we pass in the house. He answers if I say hello first but that's about it.

So.... you can see why I am relieved that my numbers etc are not necesarily bad news and I am curious as to what it is trying to tell me.

No more sightings of my apparition. I did tell him that if he wants to stay he's welcome but if he wants to go but is afraid that he is to go, it will all be well and he deserves his rest. As we all do. Happy Halloween

And so it continues

Yep... the double digit numbers again, 11:11, 3:33 and the like, not to mention winged things, why IS that bird perched on the window sill looking at me, not to mention the sparrow who sits in the hanging planter, by the kitchen door, at home and chirps at me. tapping the window doesn't make either fly off. It's like they want to tell me something. Only I don't speak bird.

Then to mess with my head a little bit more, there I was merrily driving to a thrift store singing aloud, no radio, and half way through Amazing grace I find myself at a stop light and who pulls up beside me but Amazing Grace Landscaping! I always sing Amazing grace in the car so it's not like I saw the truck earlier and it gave me an idea.

I know this must all mean something. I've whined about it before. I just don't understand what it means, or is it that I must DO something only I don't know what. I hate not knowing.

Maybe it means I should just take myself to bed before it's 11:11 or 3:33 am. Maybe it's the cosmos' way of telling me I need more sleep.

I'm just praying that it doesn't lead up to what the last sightings lead up to, me losing both of my dogs, nearly losing one puppy and losing a second. I would lose my mind, quite frankly.

I have also decided that when I die, I'm going to animal heaven over thatg rainbow bridge. I doubt that the animals would mine. I;ve always liked animals better than people and there's a certain someone I would like to avoid in people heaven. Seems the perfect solution.

Back to data entry. I swear doing it drops my iq by tens of points. Some days I think it's in the negative numbers.

JEGGINGS?

Jeggings? How come I knew nothing about jeggings?

I needed a new pair of jeans or maybe two and found that jean manufacturers assume that when your butt is as big as all outdoors your ankles are too and they flap around my legs as I walk and annoy the hell out of me. I like the slim ankled ones, or is that called boot cut or straight leg or classic or whatever name they give it but when you get to a size 18 there goes the hem flapping around your ankles like a flag in a storm.

I didn't know I bought jeggings when I picked them up at WalMart. I just figured they were jeans and when I got them home and tried them on.... Yowza! Not only are they comfortable but the hems are tight against my ankle and just perfect. Jeggings... who knew. Maybe I should go shopping more often who knows what else is out there waiting to hug my butt?

Our agreement is broken

I've told you before about the Voices in the office. We had an agreement that they would not show themselves to me and I would leave them alone. Well, today they broke that agreement and I saw one.

I was coming up the stairs on the third floor landing and saw a man starting up the set of stairs below me. Wondering who it was since the front door is locked, I looked over the bannister and saw NO ONE. I know I saw that man shape, a shape wearing an odd shaped cap. The closest I can come to describing it is that it is very much like the caps the old old ball players used to wear. I think I even saw stripes on it. it was all out of the corner of my eye and it startled me. Not that it was a voice, mind you, but that someone was on the stairs..

I suppose I can't blame the Voice. Odd things have been ramping up around me lately. Not winged things thankfully but things appearing on my desk in places where I've looked a dozen places before. It's not that I just think I looked in that spot, I know I had looked in that spot. I don't know why this is doing this now but I'll go with the flow. Who knows what this will bring.

Oh and I'm leaving the Voices alone even tho they broke our agreement. If they want to climb these stairs more power to them. I wonder if I could get a piggy back ride on one of those days when my body has decided to torture me.

I got a letter today

From the State Attorney's office today and immediately I was thinking gloom and doom and oh horse hockeys what now? Had I pissed someone off in doing our business? Was someone suing us? Nah. it was for the bank robbery when the Husband hijacked me and we went rocketing off after the fleeing bad guys. I knew they had found one of the guys, the driver, the guy I looked at eye to eye. They haven't found the others yet so I suppose this doof if keeping quiet. Idiot. It's a federal offence to rob a bank Even if you are just the get away car. The letter basically wants to know when I'm not available for a trial. I even got a pamphlet Named Help for victims and witnessess of crime. I skimmed it quickly and got the impression that people must weasel out of testifying just by the way the pamphlet is written. Hey, if you didn't want to see the thing to the end, you never should have given the police your name.

No court date is set. But I will keep you posted.

Introducing.....

Kali!!!
Yes, Charlie has a new sister. She's not a puppy but 8 months old, spayed with all of her shots. She's slightly bigger than Charlie now but I'm certain he will eventually be bigger than she. She's a mix of Australian Kelpie and Beauceron. I had never heard of either but they look german shepherdish. How do I know that this is what Kali is? Simple, she had her DNA run. Yep DNA.

I found Kali on craigslist where I very carefully avoided any animal rescued from a high kill shelter in the south and/or through Dogs In Danger Rescue. Kali was adopted from the local animal shelter by a young woman who discovered that she cannot give Kali the time and attention that she needs. Anja (JKali's first mother) is a medical student and lives in a small apartment. She loves this little girl so much. So much that she loved her enough to give her up to a better life.

I may have mentioned before that we have a very large yard 6/10 of an acre and totally fenced. There's a stand of bamboo in the back and two separate piles of wood waiting for the fall burn season, not to mention Charlie who was nearly hysterical with joy when Kali arrived.

Anja and her fiancee Chris brought Kali to us and no sooner did the fur baby get out of the car, she was racing toward me, grinning from ear to ear as she threw herself into my arms. She actually let me hug her but then oldest son opened the kitchen door and out tumbled Charlie. It was as if those two dogs had known each other forever. No posturing, no I'm a tough guy obey me. Charlie and Kali leaped and twisted and turned and then raced around and around the house,then around the pool and then just back and forth exhausting themselves. They'd drop to the ground side by side, panting, then they would catch their breaths and they'd be off again.

Anja had tears in her eyes as she watched them. The first words out of her mouth, when she first got out of the car was "Look at the yard" When she and Chris left, she was certain that this was the home for Kali.

Kali... how is it possible to fall in love so quickly. When she wags her tail, her whole body wags with it as her face splits into a grin as if you are the greatest gift ever given to her. She's housebroken and well behaved tho she wasn't too thrilled to share her toys with Charlie so we put them away till she feels that she'd like to share. Charlie doesn't care if she plays with his toys. He has a playmate that's what's important. She really doesn't seem to miss her other mother and I am very careful not to give her all the attention. Charlie was my baby first and still is a puppy in many ways so I don't want to break his heart.

My home finally feels complete. It looks so much better to see two dogs roaming the yard instead of one and to have what we call and alternate backup barking dog. Charlie uses his big boy voice much more now, a voice he hardly used before because really, if it wasn't a plastic bag, it didn't deserve a bark. Kali however, has decided to take her duties far mo0re seriously and will bark at anyone walking up the street or cutting through our back yard (kids next door always allowed) but then instead of attacking, she kisses them to death. But at least, she lets us know she is doing her job.

Charlie still comes to visit me in the craft room and to hog the air conditioner vet but Kali joined him last night and it was me and the puppies. Maybe later I'll give them their own scissors and teach them how to use glitter but for now, I just enjoy the sweet sound of puppy snoring and the yips of dreams.

9-11

9-11 is drawing near again. This time it's the ten year anniversary and I find myself glued to the TV screen as if it were all happening again.

When 9-11 originally occurred, I was home from the library on a week's vacation, younger son had a girlfriend staying over, because her parents were mad at her over an accident she had the day before, older son was at work delivering furniture in the around the DC Metro area and I hav no idea where the husband was. He doesn't figure into these memories till later. It was an ordinary morning before I got out of bed but once I did, the girlfriend came flying up the stairs to tell me about the first tower being hit. We went into my craft room where I turned on the tv and booted up the computer just as the second plane hit. Girlfriend was screaming and I was trying to calm her. She eventually went downstairs only to come flying up again at the new of the Pentagon and there was no consoling her. Her father had an appointment at the Pentagon that day.He wasn't military but a computer guy who had something to do with the creating of JAVA, or something.

The girlfriend could barely string together enough words for a sentence and didn't want to call home because her mother would be hysterical. I convinced her to call only to learn that girlfriend's accident had shaken up her dad so much that he had cancelled his appointment and was still home. He still didn't want to talk to her but he was safe. Meanwhile my oldest son was driving around the DC metro area delivering furniture.

One of my sons' friends showed up and then another. The second one wanted to call his mother in Bosnia but didn't know if he should or not. He was living with his father down the street but the father had no idea of the meaning of the word nurturing. So I told the friend to call his mother and use our phone and not worry about the price.

That day I seem to be telling people not to worry and trying to calm down while my guts were in a knot and oldest son was DRIVING AROUND THE DC METRO AREA DELIVERING FURNITURE. The day stretched to a week where I couldn't even leave the house without girlfriend tagging along or some other friend showing up in a panic. I didn't mind being the mother but I desperately wanted someone to mother me if just for a moment or two but my own mother was too self centered and I didn't have it in me to call her and beg for some reassurance.

The worst came when I tried to talk to my husband about it and I started to cry. He looked at me as if I had lost my mind and asked why i was so upset, I didn't know anyone who was killed.

Maybe that's why I watch these shows, it gives me an excuse to cry, even when the husband asks why I watch these things if it's going to make me cry... it's like an abcess, I have to keep at it till th epoison is out of my system.

As the years passed what made me cry the hardest was the random act of kindness I saw on the screen. One dust covered hand reaching out to help another, a man staggering down the street under the weight of the person he was trying to support while he fought to get her away and safe. People handing out water bottles or leaving tributes at fire stations. Then there were the stories. One woman was in a wheelchair and mustered where the disabled were to muster in the towers during an emergency. One of her co-workers passed by, questioned why she was there and scooped her up, carrying her down who knows how many flights to safety. The man who sat with a hysterical crying stranger too overrought to get himself out and sat with the stranger till the towers fell and both were lost. People helping people even it it was ahug or a comforting pat on the back. Even now that brings tears.

Last night I learned of stories I never knew of before. One involves Brian Clark. I've known part of Mr Clark's story since the first. he saved a stranger a man named Stanley Pranath by getting Mr. Pranath out of his ruined office. There was furniture and ceiling tiles and who knows what all blocking Mr Pranath's path. Mr Clark heard him calling for help and stopped to help by hauling Mr pranath up and over the debris. In face, he pulled so hard that he fell over with Mr. Pranath on top of him. Mr Clark looked at Mr Pranath and said"Hi, I'm Brian." Really what else could he say and after Mr. Pranath introuduced himself, Mr Clark suggested they get out of there.

So that was the story, two strangers now friends surviving. But wait. There is more to Mr Clark's story. As he and Mr. Pranath were heading down they came upon a security officer sitting with a badly injured man of the 45th floor. The security guy did NOT want to leave the man and made Mr. Clark promise to call out somehow and to let the powers that be know that there was an injured man on the 45th floor. Cell phones weren't working properly and so a land line it would have to be. Unbelievably Mr Clark found a land line and CALLED FOR HELP. Not for him but for the security guard and since even land lines were fouled he was on whold for more than three minutes till he finally told the dispatcher, ever so politely, that he really needed to get out of the building and hung up. I now have a hero!

And then there was the blind man and his guide dog, Salty. When the plane hit and all hell broke loose, Salty ran around the office then came back to his person. The man (I don't remember his name) harnessed Salty and off they went to the stairs. It was hard going down the stairs with a guide dog in the best of times but now there were crowds and firemen trying to come up and Salty was getting squished and trampled because guide dogs travel at their person's side so the blind man did the only thing he could, let go of the harness and told Stalty to go. Salty did, only to turn right around and come back to his person and TOGETHER the negotiated the stairs and made it our safely. Bu that's not the end of Salty's story. When the towers fell, the blind man's hand tightened on the harness as Salty pulled him foreward butting people out of the way, clearing a path for his person. Since then, Salty went over that Rainbow Bridge but I bet that day there were also balloon, butterflies and a "Good Boy Salty" waiting for him. So I have another hero, or would that be two? The man who loved his dog enough to let him go and the dog who loved his master so much that he wouldn't go.

Maybe someday I won't cry when someone as much as mentions 9-11. I'll put at the fear, horror and pure hot grief behind me. Yes, I did NOT know anyone who died that day except for some part of me that shriveled up and died at such a horrific deed. Maybe I'll stop crying when I am finally convinced that everyone who died that day, went on to their reward and are not haunting the site of their deaths. That would be too cruel. Is it any wonder I like animals best?

Blue Bodkinxz

So now we lost our new puppy to parvo. I want to scream. I want to bang my head against the wall until my brains rattle. I want to run away from home but have no destination in mind. I suppose I could live under the nearby bridge. I would be close to running water but fear I have too many craft supplies to take with me and I don't know if I can baker polymer clay over a campfire.

There was a lot more going on and around when Patty was dying that I have not told anyone. Ok, I told one person via email because she has promised that if I whine too much she will simply delete the message. All I know is I became disillusioned and now know who is what. It's bad enough that I'm depressed but so is Charlie and oldest son. We didn't have Patty long but I fell in love with her the moment she was put into my arms. As if a dead puppy wasn't bad enough the head of the rescue group left a message on my cell phone insinuating that I fell down because I didn't take Patty to the vet when I was supposed to. I supposedly told the foster mother that if Patty's symptoms got worse, I'd take her right to the vet. What symptoms? Anyhow I responded but her email bounced and I will NOT talk to her because I do not need to defend myself. She's the one that adopted out two sick puppies to me.

I am done. Well and truly done and so broken not even Charlie can mend me totally though, bless his furry heart, he does try. I've made a vet appointment for him tomorrow just to have him checked out. I also want them to see what a bruiser he is becoming because when I left with Patty when she was diagnosed, I wasn;t the only one crying and Charlie, if he does nothing else, manages to cheer people up.

And now for a secret. As soon as we get bills paid and money saved, I may walk out on this marriage because I am done. I have had enough and want no more. It may never happen, of course, we have never had money save dup because of a certain someone who could not hold a job and whose ego far surpasses the size of the world and who goes out of his way to make me smaller and smaller each day.

I am n ot a happy camper and so I'll fold my tent and steal away for now.

Never rob a bank when there are old folk about

We were heading to Aldi's but, as with everything we seem to do, we couldn't go just to Aldi's. First we had to go to the post office and then our bank and since the husband went the wrong way to go to Aldi's he got pissed at me, turned around and headed the way we should have gone in the first place, only f we had we wouldn't have had our adventure.

There we are driving down the main street of a small town near us when three guys come flying out of a small bank. chased by an old guy who was followed by another old guy shouting, CALL 911 IT'S A BANK ROBBERY! There is an alleyway beside the bank and I see the bad guys, 3, running along and suddenly one of them throw the money into the air, it scatters everywhere and they keep going. So what does the Old Pooh do? Before I know it, we're in a high speed chase with us doing the chasing. THink Mr Toad's wild ride. The Old Pooh had driven around the corner and then down another street to see if we could spot them, and we did, getting into their car. Off we went, with the Old Pooh intent over the steering wheel and me shouting out the license plate number trying to fix it in my head till I could write it down, while digging in my purse for paper and pen and waiting for gunfire.

You see, I was once head teller in a bank that was robbed, with bad guys jumping over the counter and guns held to my head. I am not a fan of bank robberies or guns. But all of that didn't matter today. So thats why I was waiting for gun fire.

No gun fire though we did corner them on a dead end street only 911 didn't work on the cell phones and today's bad guys managed to get around us. HOWEVER the purse of all junk held both paper and pens and we , ok , I managed to write down the license plate number.

We lost the bad guys at the dead end had to turn around street so we headed back to the bank. The cops were there already and I got out with my license plate scrap of paper, with the number written in yellow highlighter, it was the first pen I grabbed and handed it to the first officer in a uniform. I told him I had the license plate number and he kind of blinked at me the looked at the paper. Then I tell him that the bad guys threw the money away in the alley and the next thing I know the cops are scrabbling around trying to gather up the bills. I wonder if anyone would have bothered to even walk that alley if I hadn' seen the bad guys throw the money.

I was interviewed and reinterviewed and was now known as the one who got the license plate number There was a witness statement to write, mine took two pages.... no surprise there. One of the officers told me that he had seen the car come tearing past and was going to follow it only he got the call for the bank robbery and didn;t know they were connected. If I had managed to get through to 911 on the cell phone they would have known but alas. alack no such luck.

I kinda felt badly for the driver of the car. When we had them boxed in, his round baby face looked sad while the guy in the passenger seat looked pissed and pulled up his face mask again.I could only assume that they never thought that they were being chased by old farts. And one of the old farts looks like Santa. Imagine, running from Santa. I guess we know who's only getting coal in his stocking this year.

So we wrote out our statements, mine took two sheets, and then went around the corner for lunch and a soda where we were then met by a detective who interviewed us more. No FBI this time unlike MY bank robbery decades ago but I like to think that this is, in some small way me getting back at those long ago bank robbers.

I do have a bit of a souvenier, A bit of crime scene tape for my journal. Real police crime scene tape. WOOHOO>.

I had known that the Old Pooh's phone took pictures and if he knew how to work it, I should have taken pics of the bad guys but I didn't. Hopefully the license will be enough.

I don;t know if the media ever showed up. I certainly was NOT going to have my face on TV but I will watch the 5 o'clock news tonight but, for now, I'm heading out to a thrift store for treasures.

Sure beats going to work.

Catching up

I think we are on the final lap of the race toward a reverse mortgage. Let's hope it's over soon cause my feet are getting tired.

I thought I had found a brother for Charlie Dog. It was a mixed lab, looking very much like him. Two lookalike dogs is not a good idea I thought but what kept me from considering the other dog was that his name was Charley with a Y. I've decided to wait a bit, let charlie with an ie get fully well and fully alpha and then bring in a little brother. Besides, Craigslist hurts my heart with people giving away their animals, especially the old ones. I'd take the old ones but then I'd be grieving for them when they go. I can't do that anymore.

So much of my days and evenings has revolved around getting the puppy well that I've done no writing, no crafting, no glue booking and I miss it.

I watched the A&E Hoarders last night and was awe struck when they worked with Randy of Randy Land in Wildwood NJ....my most favorite vacation spot. For years we would see this closed up old Woolworth's with the video games or old arcade characters or signs in the window but it was never open. We thought that maybe the city stored their doo wop stuff in there or their Christmas in July stuff but no one could actually tell us. Nobody knew. Well when they started talking about Randy last night, I KNEW exactly where they were talking about and a question was answered. I'm even familiar with the arcade section of the Boardwalk Mall and always considered it as a sort of ugly stepsister that no one visited. However, I didn't watch it till the end because these wacky hoarders tend to really make me angry lately and I thought it disgusting when Randy opened this container of his hair and ate some... even if he didn't really eat it, I looked away, saying it was as yummy as cotton candy turned my stomach.

So that's about it from the boring end of the universe. What's new with you?

In case anyone has not heard

WE HAVE A PUPPY!!!!!!!!!

Yes a puppy who will not replace Ollie and Rocco and Mutley and Emily, but a puppy who is healing my heart.

His name is Charlie and he is absolutely adorable. Absolutely. He's a lab white shepherd mix and resembles a bear cub more than anything. We are all crazy about him and now a part of me is wondering if he is, somehow, Rocco come back to me.

Before you call the padded room guys to come and get me, bringing one of those lovely jackets that snap up the back, let me tell you a little more.

The same day we brought Charlie home, I asked him for a kiss. He kissed me right on the lips like Rocco always did. Three days home and he is on the desk watching the world go by out of the front window. Rocco loved his desk and being the mayor. Last night I realised that whenever someone takes the puppy our and brings him back in, he tracks me down to my craft room where he has to get in my lap, kiss me, get down and go about his business. Rocco always did that minus the getting into my lap part. Today we took Charlie to the vet. He developed a runny nose and, being paranoid, I wanted the vet to see him.... more about the vet later.
So there's 12 pound Charlie giving the big dogs hell and making a racket. Michael had the leash and was telling Charlie to shut up. Charlie ignored him. I leaned down, caught Charlie's eye and said "that's enough now, STOP" And he did. The other waiting parents looked rather impressed with Charlie's response. We've only had him since friday, mind you. Again, Rocco always obeyed me. Either Charlie is Rocco in a new suit or Rocco whispered in Charlie's ear about what he could do to melt my heart.

Now the vet. Our vet is a smiling, round faced, chinese gentleman who was as broken up as we were when we had to put Ollie down. He even hugged me that awful day and there were tears on his face. When he stepped into the exam room today, the vet was beaming, I got a hug as he came in and at the end of the visit. I know vets are animal lovers but this man goes over and above. His wife is the one who put down Rocco and Ollie, while the vet did Pip and even sewed Pip's eye lids shut so that we wouldn't be spooked by his open eyes.

But back to Charlie bear... how can I put this puppy into words. The moment I saw his photo on Craigslist, I knew he was mine. When I saw him in person I was even more in love. He's mostly black with a white sploch on his nose and a dripple of white on his chin. He has the softest paws and is the perfect gentleman when he takes food from my hand. He has the most marvelous hazel eyes that I swear he uses to flirt with me. If dogs flirt. His favorite place to sleep is on top of the airconditioning vent and heaven forbid if he gets warm, he comes and wakes me to tell me he was hot.

I have discovered that I really don't mind getting up so early in the morning that I have been. Charlie and I spend that early morning time, in the yard. He explores the yard, vanquishes all the deadly weeds, old dog toys and anything that catches his attention. Then he runs around the house and while I go to find him, he comes up behind me, nudges the back of my ankle with his nose and then takes off in the other direction. Tag, I suppose I'm it.

I am amazed that such a little scrap of fur could have healed me as much as he has. I;m not healed, I am having a hard time lately with life, but Charlie is helping.

And as much as I love Charlie Bear right now, multiply that by a thousand and you have Josh and Charlie. You would think that Josh was a little kid with his first puppy and not a 31 year old man with puppy number whatever. Charlie thinks that Josh hung the moon. Josh is his most favorite person but when Michael comes into the room or Casey, Charlie acts as if he hadn't seen them in eons. My god I love that puppy already.

Now I want to get Charlie a brother. A fur brother. Right now the people are his pack but a dog should have a fur brother or sister as well.

We won;'t be getting the older rescue dog Rusty. I've called the woman twice but she has never gotten back to me and I'm not stupid. I can take a hint. Both Michael and I think she never wanted us to have the dog in the first place and used replacing the gate as an excuse. Oh well. Rusty is missing out on a great home but this means someone else will join us instead.

Warning, I will probably be bloggin about Charlie quite a bit, Bear with me just as you did during my deep grief.

It's a lot for a little puppy to do, healing my heart. I think Charlie is up to the challange.

Now if he could only teach me how to spell.

Do over

I was reading an old blog of mine and thought how much better it is than this one. The other one was light hearted and fun while this one seems to be a doom and gloom. I suppose my outlook has changed that much and it is a shame. So what do I do about it? How do I get my version of lighthearted back?

Now I've never been a jolly person. I used to crack the people up at the library but that wasn't me but the crazy library lady. Now I only work with the husband and see few people outside of him. I'm not blaming him, well not exactly, but maybe if I was allowed to talk some, I'd get my use of language back but it is hard to want to talk when someone finishes your sentence (usually wrongly) or interrupts or just ignores you. When I do get to talk, I try to spit the words out so fast that I trip over my tounge and the words disappear.So I don't talk and I no longer write and, I guess, my heart has grown heavy.

It's as if I'm on some cosmic list that says I am not allowed to be light hearted or even happy and if happy does try to creep in.....WHAM! It's squashed flat.

Take, for instance, Rusty, the dog who I thought would be mine last Friday, only the Rusty lady said the gate to the driveway had to be replaced first and .. well.. still no gate. Or the puppies I see on craigslist which require either a boat load of money or an adoption application that I just cannot tackle. I used to be smart, you see but now, well, I guess as I've lost my teeth my intelligence has fallen out as well.

What do I do now? Do I keep on with the blog the way it is driving away my few readers? Do I give up a blog altogether? Do I start over?

I once made Michael a promise I now wish I had never made, but I DO keep my promises and so..........



To my readers, I'm sorry. I'd say I'd try to do better but what if this is my best?

My best. my best.

Oh crap, not again

I do wish the Cosmos or the Powers That Be or the Great Whoever would stop messing with me and leave me alone.

I tried, I really truly tried to ignore those numbers that keep popping up. I tried to not notice that is isn't just the 11:11's this time but 12:12 and 2:222 and the like.

But there is NO WAY to ignore the winged things.... IN MY CRAFT ROOM! RIGHT IN FRONT OF MY FACE!!! One night it was a moth. Ok. We get an occasional moth but the lightning bug? Yes ladies and gentlemen a lightning bug, full lighted butt and all.

Doing his lightning bug dance around my head and shaking his glowing booty.

nononononononono

I am in no state to lose anyone else be it furred or not!!! i don't want to be singled out unless the whatever come with a note telling me EXACTLY what I must prepare for.

As if that wasn't bad enough, now I am seeing things out of the corner of my eye. This happens to me now and again when I think I see something scurrying past only there is nothing to scurry. Usually when this happens it means whatever psychic gifts I have are ramping up for a great be HELLO! I wouldn't mind so much if I could pick lotto numbers but it is usually something stupid like where I left my car keys or the like. For awhile there I was really good at finding lost things but then the power fades and I'm as close to normal as I will ever get.

So here I am dealing with paint the house and repair all repairs that have been ignored since who knows when, to will something screw up settlement, to will business ever pick up again, to where in god's name am I going to find a puppy for Josh's birthday and why do I have to pick it out, to I can't craft worth a crap unless you count me drooling on a doodle and smearing it.

And now, today, at lunch.... the fork.

We went to a pizza place, the kind where you serve yourself and has their utensils prewrapped in a napkin. The husband ordered while I grabbed the bundles and found us a booth. Husband comes and sits awhile, then goes up to the counter to wait because the place is becoming noisey and when he comes pack with the pizza, his fork is gone.

He had opened his napkin, the knife is still there but the fork is gone. I hadn't left the booth, no one passed the booth, the fork wan;t on the table or under it or in a crack in the seat or on the window ledge or under the pizza or over the pizza. The freakin fork was gone!

What the hell is THAT supposed to mean. Is it the great cosmos, Powers That Be yada yada yada's way of simply saying to me....fork you.


Undoubtedly.

Treasure Hunt

The sons have now officially split the basement in two, with a real wall instead of piled up dressers and wardrobes. This now means that they have a bit more room and that a lot of the stuff that had separated the room, needs to go. As we dig through dressers and wardrobes we are finding all kinds of treasures: Josh's two dozen Star Trek etc T-Shirts, my 4 seasons polymer clay totems that I had been looking for, more books than should be legal, vinyl records, Kids' school pictures (the early years), some bisgue to be painted and BART!

When Josh was young and cabbage Patch Kids the latest craze. I made both Josh and Casey a doll. They came as a kit, vinyl head, clothe body that I had to soft sculpt, stuff and attach to the head. josh named his Bart, Casey named his Barty. They wore new born sized clothes and had to go everywhere the boys went. The boys even had strollers for the dolls, pink ones unfortunately because the stroller just didn't come in any other color. The boys would get oddlooks from passersby when we went to the Mall. I suppose little boys weren't supposed to push strollers, but we didn't care.

One way I did notice that the boys played with the dolls that was different from the way I played with dolls is that Bart and Barty were just pals. Usually naked pals but that's because the boys liked to be in the altogether and why shouldn't their buddies do the same. When we all went out, then Bart and Barty were brought to me for me to dress, complete with sweaters or coats etc. When we took the boys to see Sesame Street Live in Baltimore, ernie and Bert came Along with Bart & Barty. I got to carry Bert and ernie while Josh carried bart on his shoulders, very much the way their father used to carry them. This time the looks Josh got was more in the 'oh my god isn't that cute' mode instad of what the heck is a BOY doing with a doll mode.

We recycled the books, threw out old Christmas wrapping and such, tucked my pewter ban animals away and will package Bart and Barty away very carefully. After all, they are part of the family.

I wonder what treasures will be found tonight.

Love bites

We had Ollie put to sleep early this afternoon. I am crushed, devastated, my glasses so blurred with tears that I can hardly see.

What can I say about Ollie? What can't I say about Ollie?

When he was new to us and just a puppy the size of a guinea pig, I yelled at him for something. He gave me a look, scooted over to my shoe and shit in my shoe. Then he looked me in the eye, hmumpffed at me and walked away. I never yelled at him after that.

Whenever I came home, he always had to bring me something, a sock, a toy, a stick. I don't know what I'm going to do now when I need sticks without a little dog to bring them to me.

Ollie was always patient with me, always willing to listen to me, always making me laugh. He may have been small but he didn't know that. He would swagger about the yard lifting a leg here and there to deposit his scent, or show his teeth to Rocco when Rocco tried to make the moves on Ollie's chews. Ollie put up with Rocco pulling the squeakies out of all his squeakies and had taken to hiding them all around the house and the yard. Since it's grass cutting season, Michael has been finding the squeakies and bringing them into the house for Ollie. Ollie would give us one of those long suffering sighs of his, take the squeaky outside and find a new hiding place for it. We have found squeakies and bones in the most unusual places such as my shoe, by purse, the laundry basket and under the pillows on Josh's bed. No doubt we will be finding them for some time.

What breaks my heart most of all is Josh. Ollie was his, a Christmas gift from friends when Josh was a senior in High School. Josh adored Ollie and Ollie adored Josh back. Last night I overheard josh talking to Ollie. Ollie was sprawled on his pillow and Josh down on his hands and knees, his face close to Ollie's. Josh was telling Ollie that if it was his time to go, that he could go and that Josh would take care of me. That Mommy would be alright, and Josh would see to it. Today, after the deed was done and the hole dug in the back yard, Josh came to get Ollie, wrapped in his towel. He so tenderly brushed the leaves and twigs off the towel and murmured to the bundle, "let me clean this off for you , buddy, but you always did like to get dirty. Ollie was notorious for running through puddles, the goopier the better, or playing in the snow till his coat was so filled with snowballs he could be considered a deadly weapon.

Ollie loved frozen meatballs and head rubs. chicken jerkey and blue cheese, or any cheese. He patrolled the yard each morning, his circuit taking him through the bamboo and under bushes, and around the pool. It used to be Mutley, Ollie and Pip the cat/ Then it was Ollie and Rocco and Pip, then Ollie and Rocco, then Ollie and now no one will traverse the bamboo on the lookout for woodchucks and other critters.

Ollie was such a little dog but he was such a big personality. I don't know how I am going to make it without him.

If there is one bright spot in this whole thing, it's that he's with Rocco now. I can see it in my mind. Here comes Ollie all piss and vinegar starting over that rainbow bridge marking his territory as he goes. Rocco spots him, stops, stares quizzically, head tilted to the right and then the left and then his wrinkled forehead clears and his big goofy Rocco face splits into a grin and there he goes, galloping over the rainbow bridge, his funny ears flapping. He reaches Ollie, they touch noses and Rocco starts dancing in circles around him. Ollie gives that world weary look of his, the look older brother get when dealing with annoying little brothers but Ollie's tail starts to wag faster and fater and soon they are racing over that bridge dancing through puddles and scrabling through bamboo and neither will be lonely for the other any more. My boys. One big, one small, forever together...brothers.

Dancing Angels and what nots

I have this cool plexiglass shelving whatever on my desk at work. I originally found it in a thrift shop, knew it would be useful but dag nabbit, never DID find a good use for it. Till one day I saw the clutter on my work desk and TA DAH I found a use for it.

So there it sits, its cubby holes filled and all along the top are the doo dads and gimcracks that make me smile.

Starting left to right is a large wood jasper angel, next comes the smaller red aventurine angel , a tiny opalite pig, a larger than the pig but smaller than the other two angels, angel.

I have a faux netsuke of a girls carrying a bundle on her back. It's some kind bone or something. Her partner is a kneeling guy made of jade. Next comes the blown glass humming bird in flight over some morning glories (this was $1 at Walgreens at Christmas),then a dog netsuke made of boxwood, a trio of pigs, another dog figurine made of who knows what but it reminds me of Rocco, an opalite dog, yellow jade rabbit, black big with an ear of corn, aqua glass god, a white cats' eye ram, a red ox, a pair of salt an peper shakers of cats with accordians, one of my mini poly clay owls, and even smaller wooden carved owl and on the end one of my bigger polyclay angels.

I have quite a collection. Now each day I place them nice and straight facing out at me and each morning I come in to find that they have all moved. Not much usually but this morning the angels especially were facing every which way. Some of the others were turned slightly but these angels looked like they had been dancing the jig all night long. I don't know what's moving them. The mouse we once had is long gone.... I've left out a peanut butter cup for weeks now that remains untouched.

They must party every night once we're gone for the day and just forget to get back into their positions the next morning. Either that or the voices in the office come out to play. No matter which it is, I want to know why I wasn't invited. I don't dance well but I'm certain I could boogie as well as something made of stone.

I've lined them all up again right now and I'm curious to see what tomorrow brings.

BTW, none of my crew cost me more than $1.00 on ebay (plus free shipping). I'm hoping to add a turquoise dodo to the ranks and I've made some odd polymer clay people like things that will go so well, once I remember to glaze them and actually bring them in.

Now that my flight of fancy is over, I'll land and get back to work.

Furbaby antics

Little Dog Ollie is stepping into Rocco's very big foot prints. Heaven forbid if you walk into our yard and don't tell Ollie who you are. He'll stand at the kitchen door giving whomever hell. How does he know anyone is out there. Periodically he walks to the kitchen door, sticks his nose in the crack and inhales. REALLY INHALES, I couldn't be surprised to find small critters flat up against the door from the incredible Shi Tsu vacuum nose. He goes and sniffs and if all is well he comes back to the couch only to repeat it all in about half an hour. Rocco used to keep vigil on a desk under the front window where he could watch the world and let Ollie know what was going on. So Ollie has found his own way.

Ollie loves squeaky toys. Rocco used to destroy them by pulling out the squeaky so Ollie began hiding them. He'd take his squeaky outside, to return squeakyless and with a filthy face.

Since Michael has been mowing the lawn, he's been finding Ollie's hidden treasures and brings them to the house and gives them to Ollie. Ollie give him a look and then with a huge little dog sigh, picks up the squeaky and goes outside to bury it again. Only to have Michale find them and return them again. What's a little dog to do? There are six squeakies in Josh's bed, one in my purse and a little thing that has no squeak that I got as a gift from one of my china ebay things and gave to Ollie who is thrilled with it, in my shoe. Yes the one squeaky is still in my purse but the chinese thing had to come out of my shoe. I may wear mismatched socks at time but draw the line of something else inhabiting my shoe with my foot.

Ollie didn't have the language that Rocco had but he has language of his own. Bentiful came out with a veggie like treat for dogs. I bought a pack on a whim and Ollie DOES NOT LIKE THEM! BUt he does have a use for them. If he wants a treat and we are being dense, he drops the pea colored and shaped treat at our feet and looks up at us as if to say, "What, you want written instructions?". I realise now that maybe Ollie has been the smart one all along and just got Rocco to do his dirty work while they would both benefit.

Lunch calls. More later.

Playing catchup

What the heck have I been doing that has kept me from posting to my blog. Hmmm let me think. (cue jeopardy theme song) Ending world hunger? Peace in our time. Nope. Can't come up with a good enough excuse.

Foreclosure is a fear for me. A hot gut chewing, head splitting fear. I can almost see myself living in a cardboard box under a bridge someplace. I wonder if I need two boxes. One for me, one for my craft supplies.

I've tried to get my craft room into shape. When that happens I'll give you a heads up so you can all prepare for the end of the world. I have managed to clean out a few drawers of my Iris carts so that they are really and truly empty. But what to do with the stuff I culled... Right now its going in a tote, each category in its own separate bag. Why not toss it out? Who knows when I'll need a spoon shaped wooden stick, or the plastic lizards or the plastic cocktail animals. We all know that the minute I throw them out, will be the minute before I realise I need them for something.

During the cleaning I did uncover a basket full of art dolls that I did who knows when. When I find things like this, I am often surprised by how well I did or how much I like them, but the minute I complete another one, I think it's crap and stuff it away in a drawer. I have gotten brave and offered a trio of my polymer clay angels as a prize for an on line raffle for one of our needy list members. Ah, but bravery does not last long and now i'm fretting that the winner will think them crap and be disappointed in their prize. But I really have little else to offer other than the aforementioned plastic cocktail animals etc. still I will bake the angels and gloss them and hope whoever gets them isn't disappointed.

Over the years I have joined swaps and things on this same list and more time than not, I get stiffed. It happened with my first one, where we sent a box of goodies to one person and received a box from another. Except my sender dropped off the face of the earth and I never did get anything. Another time I won something in a raffle that the prize giver then couldn't find and so I waited and waited till I finally gave up, bought myself what the prize was only to have the prize suddenly mailed to me. I'll join this raffle simply because the person could use every cent she can get but won't get my hopes up for a prize for myself.

I'm starting to get good with not getting my hopes up. I don't look forward to anything. This way I won't be disappointed. I hate having my hopes dashed, crushed pulverized. IF I don't hope I don't hurt.

For instance. The husband is old enough to qualify for a reverse mortgage. After 4 months of back and forth with our mortgage co they say they will accept a short sale figure. Now we have to fart around with the second mortgage company who are becoming real buttholes so we STILL don't know if its a go. IF we do manage to get this, it'll mean that we no longer have a mortgage to pay and I can get rid of the cardboard boxes If we don't get it... I don't know what we'll do. I'm sure that the people on the list are tired of my pity poor mes when so many others are facing real crises so I try to keep this to myself.

11:11 is popping up again. I don't want to know. What good is knowing that something is going to happen if you don't know what the something is and can't change it, even if you did know?

I still miss Rocco the Wonder Dog so desperately that, even now, I'm fighting tears. Tears, hell, big gut wrenching sobs and a nose running like a faucet. The husband has no patience with that and thinks I should be over it by now. I will never be over it. It's not so much the loss but the fact that I have never known ANYONE, human or not who just loved life so much. Everything was an adventure for Rocco, a thrill, a treat and he should be around to still enjoy sunshine and chicken chips and sitting on the desk looking out the front window. And I should be there enjoying all of that with him. Except sitting on the desk. KNowing me it would be more falling off the desk than anything.

I've had no desire to craft and so my stuff sits there looking pitiful when I settle myself at my work desk but, still no inspiration comes.

We were supposed to go away for a four day weekend but with business wayyyyy down, that's impossible. Even if we get the go ahead on the reverse mortgage, we still have to give them $4,000. Then there;s $1,700 for a business license we didn't know we needed and still aren't sure that we actually DO need it.

But there are bright spots. Little cat Isabella has now made herself my protector. If I should give into tears that are always too near the surface even WITH prozac, she comes running to me, talking to herself the whole time till she reaches me then does something so silly I have to laugh. She also comes running when I laugh or sing and she perches on the edge of the bed, like Rocco used to, ever vigilant.

Younger son has gotten a new job that will be paying him almost twice what he was making before. It puts his house buying dreams on hold for a while but that means he'll still be home with us for a bit. The new job has lightened him so that h's almost a new person. It's great to see him so happy.

It's getting to be grilling season which the older son loves. So much so, he bought us $45 worth of steaks just so he has something to grill.

Younger son brough two dozen crabs home when he returned from his weekend at the ocean.... When I lived it new Jersey we went to The Shore, here we go Downey Ocean. (Down the Ocean)

So I think that catches stuff up. I'm sure I'll remember more as soon as I end this.

Stuffity stuff stuff

A sign hanging in the window of a small chinese restaurant

Pain? No Qi/Energy? Living accupuncture....yada yda yada

Living Accupuncture? I suppose it makes more sense to accupuntcture the living instead of the dead because the dead really don't need energy. If they do, they have a word for that ZOMBIE!

Mis-hearing LLB offers free shitting. Tra la!

On to a question for today.

How does this alpha thing work?

Animals are drawn to me. Dogs, cats, Pigs, goats, mostly every animal except for horses. Our dislike is mutual.

Anyhow, dogs are always dragging their owners toward me so that we can 'talk'. They sniff and lick and make fools of themselves. I thought it must be pheromones
that I emit. However, today, the alpha dog thing worked with a dog in his car, parked next to our car and we both had our windows rolled up. The husband noticed this dog first and pointed out to me that that dog was attracted to me.

Could it be scent? I know that dogs have excellent sniffers but I am thinking that maybe it could be auras. All I do know is that animals are as drawn to me as I am to them. It makes me feel good. Makes me feel special and I don't often feel special. But it has, now, also made me think and once I have a question stuck in my head it won't go away until I get an answer.

There's a second question stuck in my head that happened last night.

I was watching World War II in color. (nothing else of interest was on). Now I know we've all seen those pictures of villagers welcoming in the liberating army, usually the good guys because, well, we live in good guys land. So there those raggedy villagers are, beaming and waving little American flags.... in FRANCE or ITALY or name the country of your choice. My question is where do they get those flags to wave? Is there a peddler who goes before the army and sells the flags? How else do they get the flags, I doubt they had a stash of them tucked away in their merry little cottages. Wouldn't they have to have a flag for each approaching army? How likely is that. I suppose I could google it but then I would have to figure out how to search for it.

Sometimes I wish my head would leave me alone and stop putting these questions into my brain.

I

Oh no he didn't!

The Husband is on a diet. The Atkins diet which limits him to eating anything but bark and dirt. Not really but it feels like that when I'm trying to make meals interesting, like coating chicken and or pork chops with crushed pork rinds. Do you know how awkward it is to crush pork rinds?

He's been on this diet once before and so we know what to expect. Last time he didn't cheat at all this time...well.... That's where this story starts.

The Husband is sitting in the living room watching TV. He's always been a cruncher, preferring pretzels and other crunchy stuff while watching TV. Which is probably why he has to lose some weight. So one night, while I was safely away in the craft room he spies a bright yellow bag of People Crackers sitting on a tray. The bag is already open and ripe for the picking and so, since the diet police aren't around... namely me... he takes a couple of the cute people shaped crackers and put them in his mouth.

He chewed once then spat it all out thinking that they had gone bad till he picked up the bag looked at it closely and realized he'd just eaten DOG TREATS!!!!!

Maybe he's discovered a new diet. The dog treat diet. The stuff tastes so bad you don't want to eat ANYTHING.

BTW Little dog Ollie doesn't like the people crackers either. I threw them outside for the birds. But wait... what if the birds are on Atkins? We are going to have some plump sparrows a=hanging about.

I bit the bullet

and downloaded all the stuff we need to get a license. It's gonna cost $1,700! Holy macaroni. I'm letting the husband take care of it. It looks as if we are licenseable so that is good. Now we need that reverse mortgage. Finger and toes ciospdos. Sorry I should uncross the fingers and toes while I'm typing.

So... where's the funny?

Sometimes I think my sense of humor goes on a small vacation, packing its bags and running as fast as its little legs can carry it. Bless its little tiny heart. I wish it would take me with it but it doesn't ask and I hate to push myself on someone or something.

I think funny will be missing from this post, however fact will be taking over.

Life for me seems to be always waiting for something or dreading that something I am looking for. I have little or no patience with that. I want things resolved NOW not later, not tomorrow, now. Otherwise this knot in my stomach will grow even bigger.

We are trying to get a reverse mortgage. All the ducks are in their row and here we sit and wait. A reverse mortgage means we will have NO mortgage payments and I can stop worrying about being homeless and maybe get another dog. I said maybe.

Then I find out we have to be licensed, the office that is. It's a new thing and so I worry will we be apporved. If not we are totally and royally screwed.

Will this foreclosure freeze ever end so we can get more clients.

Will the phone mess be cleared up.

Will i ever FOR GOD"S SAKE stop worrying.

Even worse, I am totally uninspired when it comes to crafting and that makes me want to cry. I still hide out in the craft room because, really, the husband and I spend WAYYYYY too much time together. I haven't even been able to find stuff to poke fun at. I know, never end a sentence with an at.

So... if the great googly moogly out there, fate or the powers that be or whatever you want to call it are listening, PLEASE can we get things moving in the right direction. Because honestly, my head is starting to spin. And the next thing you know I'll be spewing pea soup.

There she goes again

I swear that there is a car commercial on TV that offers a car with power SNEERING.
Hih? Wah? How does a car power sneer? Turns up its nose at the cars around it? Gossips behind their trunks or just swaggers about feeling superior? I'm picturing the Snidely Whiplash of cars, complete with curly ended moustache. I got so busy thinking of sneering cars I never did manage to hear which car bradd it was. I am sure it wasn't the VW Tapeworm. If you are a tapeworm, I imagine that there really isn't much to sneer about.

Yep. I am losing my mind once again.

The husband decided to get a new phone carrier or should I say carriers for the office. Of course I didn't know about this until it was done... or mostly done... or hardly even done though it should have been. Think of a pretzel. That's what this reminds me of. And it is as follows.

We got a new internet service at the office called Clear. I love it, happy with it, thrilled to actually be able to access the internet when I want to. This clear comes with a phone service as well. One line going to one phone. We have three phones in the office, one dedicated to the fax machine and a phone on each of our desks. We have our main number and then a rollover number for when people call while someone is on line one.

No more of that now. That would be efficient and we wouldn't want that. So the clear line is only answerable on Michael's phone.............. or should have been if that guy who signed us up had a clue.

An aside. This guy reminds me of Chris who I wonce worked with at the library. A big hulking guy who loomed over you an giggled incessantly. This Clear guy doesn't giggle but he does loom.

So the Clear guy tells Michael he has to get rid of the phone service into the office before Clear can capture the phone number we have had forever so we can still have it forever. (Picture looming guy, brandishing a chasing after colorful numbers.) This was all to be taken care of this past MOnday. All we managed to accomplish was to have or clients with no clue how to reach us because most of them have lost Michawl's cell phone number. The reason why is quite simple abd SAYS so in BIG LETTERS on the paperwork we got is that we are NOT SUPPOSED TO HAVE CANCELLED THE PHONE SERVICE!!! So now we have to get the original service back only to get rid of it again once Clear grabs the number. The way this is going, the net is going to be for me to take me away to that lovely padded room.

And me? I have Magic Jack on my phone which means I have my own separate number and Michale can't answer my phone when it rings unless he gets up. I can't remember my cell phone number how am I going to remember the magic one? It gets even better... Michael now has a TEMPORARY number from clear to add, yet another number, to the mix.

Now here comes a cautionary tale for those husbands who suffer from the uh huhs. They are easy to spot. Their wives are earnestly telling them something and the husband's head is nodding and he's mumbling uh huh, uh huh, figuring he's placating wifey and doesn't have to listen. LISTEN TO YOUR WIVES, THEY MAY HAVE SOMETHING IMPORTANT TO SAY!!!!!!!

When I first heard about this phone change, after it was already in the works of course, I asked a few simple questions like "Are you out of your flaking mind?" and would both lines be able to be answered on both lines? Will we have voice mail? Can we put our own message on our voice mail.... you get the idea. I got the uh huhs.

So lurking Clear guy is here and flapping around the office using technical terms, some I swear he made up. I hid out in the bathroom and when I rejoined the circus in the office Michael and lurking Clear guy look like someone had just knocked their heads together because they just realised that...... well... i bet you know where this is going. My phone will only pick up Magic Jack and Michaels will only pick up Clear and thank god they left the fax line alone. DUH! I figured that much out myself.

Now we're talking about wireless phones versus programable phones versus tin cans with string. Personally I'm ready to go the tin can route.

Oh and the lurking clear guy had to go back to his shop (within walking distance) because our office computers are so old and slow that whatever he brought over to do whatever to the computers wouldn't work. So the computers are old, so am I and there is no way in hell we are updating our systems through this guy.

Yes this switch will save us a great deal of money in the long run but it's these stumbles and ankle turnings now that are sucking up my patience.

And while I'm on a phone rant, the evil voodoo homeless woman who used to work with Michael and who still has a phone that Michael has been paying for all this time has used up so many peak minutes that we are now over our limit and charged 10cents a minute for each. She has used 89% and we have 5 phones on that account. God. She's like a bed bug... there just is no way od getting rid of her.

Ok, I'm folding up my soapbox and going home.


That being said. I wonder if a soap box was ever really strong enough for someone to stand on.

I SAID SO!

We had a new client come in today. No sooner had she set herself down that she asked if there were any recorded haunted places in the area. I told her I knew of one but it was a private home and then I told her about the voices. Well... seems she's psychic and all she would say is that it was weird in here.

SEE SEE SEE SEE SEE

I am right and Rocco was right, there IS something in this building. Ha!

I love being proved right.

Some humor....maybe

OK. This is about the husband, AKA the Old Pooh, Captain Underpants, Jerry Garcia and The Old Fart.

This is a man who gained world wide fame when he burst into the computer room at home, wearing only his underpants and a towel around his neck claiming he was CAPTAIN UNDERPANTS. Ok, so maybe you had to be there, or, better yet, count yourself lucky that you weren't. He's also the man who was known as "Jerry" to my son's high school band, way back when, for the husband's resemblnce to Jerry Garcia of the Grateful Dead. I'm assuming before Garcia died and not after. In fact, during an annual car wash, some kid suggested they paint up a sign about having your car washed by Jerry Garcia and have the husband there doing the washing. The kids all claimed they would make a fortune. Either that or they just wanted to sucker someone to do all the work.

So as you can guess, little embarrasses the husband.

The other night Gunsmoke came on. I'm usually in the craft room at this time but, for some reason I was still in the living room when this came on

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MsU6nbgyR3o

The husband immediately leaped to his feet, his finger cocked in a gun shape, hand hanging by his side and then whammoooooo.... he tried to out draw Matt Dillion. Aparently he does this quite often as well as singing along with every western that actually has words in its theme song.

I have to tell you, I just sat there an goggled at him. He was so focused, so mesmerised and totally oblivious of the fact that he is older than dirt and was standing there in his jammies. I think the Captain Underpants part of him has retired.

Now before you think I am heartless by poking fun at him, you have to know that I got his permission.

However I do draw the line with him hanging out with Chester or Festus or Miss Kitty who really should have told Matt, a long time ago to fish or cut bait.

I wonder where I can get him a grownup toy gun and holster set. I kid's set would never fit around his middle. I think I need to google.

Insanity

I wonder if I will ever recover from losing Rocco. I know it seems over the top grieving for a dog but I can't help what I feel. And I feel as if I am losing my mind, one duck nibble at a time.

For instance.... ever see that insurance commercial with the dimple guy standing in front of a sprawling newstand. There he stands spouting off about honest people, etc, and along comes this guy in a plaid black and red jacket with his hoody hood flopping against his back. Plaid guy is eating a slice of pizza and just munching along but I find it so terribly sad it makes me cry. A guy in plaid eating pizza.

I've always been odd but this is getting too odd even for me and I SWEAR TO GOD that I have had enough with the winged things and the numbers. Birds started up again last week with a weird mix of sea gulls, crows, a single raven, pigeons and I hawk/falcon/taloned bird. All flying around the building for a frenzied moment or two till they all went.... somewhere. And the 11:11 is cropping up along with variations such as 12:12 3:33 and 2:22. I don't want this hoohaw. I'm quite happy with my angels.

So, not much has been happening in my weird world, my oddz bodkinz world but I thought I'd stick my head in so that no one thinks I died.


Oh and speaking of which. One evening we left my car in the lot at the office because we went to dinner in Michael's car and it was too cold to get into the cold car to drive home. So we left it in the lot and when Michael got in before me the next morning, he thought I was here and started to search for my body in the building because he thought someone had killed me. (wishful thinking?)

He had done something like this when we were first married. He came into the apartment, saw my sweater and purse in their spots but no me so he searched the apartment and checked the dishwasher because he thought someone had killed me and stuffed me into the dishwasher. I was downstairs in a neighbor's apartment. sigh.

What???!!!!

I was watching a TV show the other night. It's a newish show called Out of Bounds and it's about Doctors in some unnamed South American Country. Or maybe they are just residents, who knows. They look too young to be doctors but lately everyone has looked too young to be anything. Anyway one of the mini stories in the story is an old guy with mouth cancer and a cheezy german accent who ends up being a Nazi. Stick up her ass blonde doctor chick turns him in to the American authorities even tho old Nazi dude is dying and everyone is trying to talk her out of it. So there she sits in the middle of the night, at the old nazi's bedside and she begins to tell him why she turned him in. She told him she WASN'T Jewish, or gay, or mentally or physically handicapped or a gypsy. I think she threw in 7 day Adventists but that could just be in my head but she did leave out the Poles whom the German thought were sub human. (My maiden name was Kwiatkowski so I'm a bit biased on that point) I never did actually hear what her reason was cause I was so flumoxed that she had gotten the rest of the stuff right! People seem to equate concentration camps with Jews only but a whole lotta other people were gassed as well. I was just amazed that this show threw that in when really if all she had said was that she wasn't jewish would have neatly fit. Usually I am pissing and moaning about what they don't get right so I must say I was impressed.
I have often wondered that if I had lived in Germany during world war II would I have been a righteous gentile or just turned my head. I'd like to think I would have been but who knows what would have happened when push came to shove. After 9-11 someone did tell me that if I had been in those towers I never would have gotten out, I would have been too busy getting everyone else out. I was touched by that comment till someone else asked me if the first person said that because she thought I was bossy. Probably...possibly....ok yeah definitely. I am also opinionated and tempermental and verbose and I think that is where this all should end.

Stuff

I have coughed so much that, if I were puffing a sailboat across the ocean, I would have been there and be heading back by now. Each cough also makes me feel as if I am slowly being sawed in half by a piano wire. Can't wait to get home and refil the hot vaporizer.

On other fronts, this whole Ollie Isabella stuff is really getting odd. Little dog Ollie insisted on going out late last night. I tried to talk him out of it, I wanted to go to bed but he insisted and I gave in. No sooner was he at the door when Isabella comes tearing down the hallway grumbling under her breath and demands to be let out as well. ISABELLA NEVER UNDERLINED HIGHLIGHTED BELLS AND WHISTLES never goes out side. Ever. But since I was there anyway and she was getting more and more vocal, I let her out. Where she promptly sat on the porch and waited..... for Ollie... a dog she hasn't said two word to in her entire life. Ollie comes up on the porch, they come in together and Ollie gets his frozen meatball and (can you tell where this is going) Isabella had to have one as well. She only sniffed hers and walked awy so I guess that means Ollie got two.

I've stopped seeing the 11:11 time thing and hope the 3:33 and the 4:44 that have cropped up means nothing. And yes, I have taken to shouting at the universe when it happens and telling them to CUT IT OUT! What good is knowing something is going to happen when you can't stop it or change it. I would rather NOT know.

People are idiots. I was watching Face Off last night. It's a show on Syfy where.. uh oh... my train of thought derailed.... it's a show where, they're not makeup artists exactly more like special effects makeup people compete weekly to see who goes home. Like project Runway on steriods ad nightmares. Anyway, I'm watching the first show on demand and the task was to make hums look like an animal human mutant and they had 3 animals to choose from, an Elephant, an ostrich and a beetle.

An aside here.... I don't expect people to have the love of animals that I have or to know the useless trivia that I know but for god's sake doesn't everyone know that Ostriches can't fly? The guy who asked if ostriches could fly also asked if they had teeth. Then someone wandered by and said not to get within three feet of the bird because it would peck an eye out. Someone get the eye patch. Of course all of them forgetting the fact that one swift ostrich kick could rip them open like a bag of dollar store candy. Then the other ostrich team ends up making their model look like daisy duck on crack and if my internet would behave I'd post it here, or a link but I don't think that will happen.

Last night they had to body paint naked models to either blend in with a certain background or look as if they were wearing clothes in this background. So the first guy to pick chooses an African American girl standing in front of a poster of the rain forest. This guy in all sincerity says the reason he picked her and that was that with her hair he could make he look like a lion. Huh? GRASSLANDS you idiot. You find lions in GRASSLANDS in AFRICA!

If they are these whoopdedoodle special effects artists don't you think that would have to have some knowledge of animals and the way they are put together? Besides, female lions don't have manes.

There are times when I think I would like to live under a rock instead of getting nibbled to death by ducks.... or ostriches.

Why I shouldn't watch the news...

the beginning of this year has been rather hard on me. ON top of that, I've been suffering through a fibro blizzard unlike any I've ever experienced before. For god's sake my eyebrows hurt.

So I turned on the news to a report about something awful done to a puppy (I won't say what) and the reporter was apologising that he couldn't get a copy of the film to show us. Right, like I want to see it. Just hearing about it and seeing the dog before it died was enough to make me cry even while I was yelling at the screen.

Before I could dissolve int0 a lump of snot and used tissues there's a report about the world's largest polar bear plunge occurring at a beach on the chesapeake Bay. The money goes to the special olympics and the 'bears' run into the icy water once an hour for 24 hours. Ok so they're all nuts but it is for a good cause and everyone seemed up beat but then I spot a trio of men slowly making their way to the water. the ones on the end had their arms about the one in the water so I figured he was a reluctant bear. But I was wrong.

It wasn't until the men were making their slow way out of the water that I saw that the man in the middle had some kind of prostetic in place of his left lane. I burst into tears, not that the one legged man went into the water but that his two buddies went with him and while everyone else who left the water ran to heated tents, these men walked slow and sure while the one in the middle made his way carefully over the sand which tipped him here and there. His buddies steadied him and off they went slow and sure. It's one thing to run yourself into the cold water but how this guy must be loved to have two buddies go into the water with him and match their pace to his. I hope he realises how lucky he is. For he is, one leg and all.

Slogging through the Slough of Despond

Last night there was a knock on the bedroom door. When I answered Josh asked if I could have a friend. it was what he always said when Rocco wanted in and the door was closed. This time when he opened it, in came Bella. Josh and I only looked at each other, then he smiled and closed the door. I, however dissolved into tears but Had to shove my face into a pillow because the husband, when he walked into my craft room and found me in tears, told me that i had to stop, that it was ridiculous and I better go see a mental health professional.

Needless to say, the pillow got soaked and snotty and the poor little cat was beside herself purring and rubbing and trying to soothe. Eventually I pulled myself together and snuggled with the cat for a bit until she took up her post at the end of the bed where she promptly fell asleep, snoring like a lumberjack. Who thought such a sound could come out of such a little cat.

I've made a clear path in the craft room from door to desk and Ollie followed that path half a dozen times last night, I guess to see if the path worked, or he couldn't believe that there was a path, or he thought he had to use the path before it disappeared once more under an avalanche of stuff. He's also started working on the huge bone but I did go out today to get him more manageable chews. He looked so sad when I left that it nearly broke my heart. I certainly could not bring him into the office. He DOES NOT like going anywhere in the car and with the way Rocco reacted when I tried to get him down the office stairs, Ollie might have ended up with a heart attack. Maybe the chews will help.

One of the sons' friends came by the other day and I heard him call Ollie the lone ranger and how sad it was. This is the same guy that, once we knew the worst, would bring the dogs some jerky each time he visited. He also called Rocco, during the last presidental election, Rocco Bama and asked if he was running for president.

So there it is. Not much happening here in the Slough of Despond. Maybe we'll get snow tonight. Snow always makes me happy and I need a good dose of happy.

Stepping Up To the Plate

I am still having a hard time with losing Rocco but it is getting a bit easier. I think I'll miss him until the day I die but I have noticed that little dog, Ollie, and littlest cat, Isabella, are stepping in to cover the breach. It is rather endearing but it tends to make my heart hurt more.

Isabella, or Bella, has taken to sleeping on the end of the bed. If I'm up late reading or on the computer, she's right there curled up to me but she moves to the end of the bed when the lights go out. Josh said that I was awake the other night and the bedroom door was closed and Bella was giving him hell trying to get him to let her into the room. When I break down and start to cry she comes running to get into my lap and pat my face. Sort of a 'there there' kind of pat.

Ollie, on the other hand, followed me into the craft room, to stare at me while I ate my sandwich. Rocco always wanted what I was eating and I always left him a piece. Ollie never begged r followed me around but now he's my shadow. So there we are, in the craft room, with Ollie staring at me as if he had to have just a taste of that or he would die. It was cute and funny and distressing all at once and so I begged him to please let me eat first. Well, Ollie didn't leave the room. He did, however look away from me with that, I don't care what you're doing ploy except he kept looking at me out of the corner of his eye as if to make certain I didn't pull a fast one and eat the whole sandwich myself. He's now, also the designated barker and heaven help you if you dare to slam a car door or drive a UPS or Fed Ex truck up the street. Just because the big boy is gone, doesn't mean vigelance is at an end. There's little dog Ollie to contend with. And he's going to remind you of that fact.

But on the heart breaking side. Ollie is still hiding his chews and his toys as if someone else might get the toys and rip the squeaker out of it. Ollie always greets me with something in his mouth and, the other day, on a whim, I gave him the cardboard toilet paper roll that he has taken to carrying around with him as if it is a treasure beyond measure. But what hurt the most is the bone Josh brought home last night. A bone nearly the side of Ollie who only looked at it puzzled and then let it be. I couldn't help but think that Rocco would have fallen on it and not let up until he had chewed away a great hunk of it. I fear that this bone will become fossilized before Ollie is finished with it.

So Ollie and Bella are doing their best. Gotta love the little ones trying to fill awfully big shoes. I wonder when I will be able to see who is there and not looking for who is missing.

I Love IT!

Older son stuck his head in the crap room last night and wanted to know if I had any paint for his warhammer figures. These are itty bitty guys that all come as a single gray color and while, the son hasn't played a game of warhammer in quite sometime, he still likes painting the men.

Well all I have are watercolors and acrylics, neither of which would work and then I had a brain storm and pulled out my Lumin Arte polished pigments and the accompanying fluids that go with them and then handed over a fistful of the best fine brushes I ever found with big rubberized grips and costs a whole twenty five cents each!

I checked in with him before I came to work to see if the pigments with the fluid worked on his guys and before I could even ask, I saw them sitting there shining. He was using beer bottlecaps to hold the mixture and had the reading lamp I got him for Christmas clamped to the tray table giving him his own spotlight to work in.

He told me how great the stuff was, how little of the pigments he had to use to get great coverage and then told me a story....

Seems he liked his results so much that he went next door to show a friend who also plays warhammer. While he was there a second warhammer friend showed up and the second friend was gobsmacked to see the little guy thing shining. Then he protested that since the whatevers lived in caves, they shouldn't shine like that. Ah.... but he didn't reckon with the Graff imagination. Josh told the friend that since his whatevers lived in caves and raised spiders that their tunics were made of spider silk and since they all lived in darkness the spider's silk was bioluminescent and therefore the whatevers could see in the dark caves. The friend mulled it over for a bit and just as he was ready to accept the story Josh admitted that he had pulled the whole thing out of his ass and had made it up. It had all sounded plausible that I even bought it until I saw that grin on Josh's face. His shit eatin gtin we call it. I do so love having him living at home with us, bioluminescent whatevers and all.

Who Knew?

Saw a hand painted sign the other day that read, local grown, hand picked caramel apples. Uh What? I didn't know you could get a CARAMEL apple tree. I thought you just got a tree that gave you those naked, without the caramel, apples. The kind that taste so much better with caramel on them. Where do I get me one of those trees?Next hing you know there will be strawberry banana bushes and peaches and cream ponds.

Then today, while checking the Maryland Department of Assessments and taxation site for a homeowner's name, I look down below all of the stuff I normally need to a category that says NEAR: and there, bold as brass it read Scotland.DUH WHA? Scotland? Really. The bagpipes and what is really worn ounder those kilts Scotland. The Scotland that is oh... let's say... Across the freaking Atlantic Ocean! What happened? Did it break loose and float all the way here to Maryland. I'm pretty certain that America didn't move but what do I know? I've been sunk so low in the Slough of Despond, I;m lucky to remember to change my underwear... or wear underwear.

Hey! Maybe that's where the caramel apple trees came from. They floated on over with Scotland and jumped ship, digging their rootsies deep into Maryland soil. That's fine by me but let's hope the haggis stays where it belongs. I mean, how hungry must a person be to eat haggis? IK'd rather chew on a sock.

Once more - Rocco

I cannot believe how devastated I am over losing Rocco. I find myself crying at the oddest times. Not just tears but huge gulping sobs that make my chest hurt and my nose run and does nothing for my eyes. I cannot reconcile myself to his death and I really wonder if I am losing my mind. I walked into the living room after my bath last night, looked at the time on the cable box and saw that it read 11:11. I went into a tirade, a rant, shouting at the tv and the powers that be and telling them to shove their 11;11 because I had had enough of it already. What good is all this crap if I don't know what it means and while I was at it I told them to go screw this winged visitor thing as well. Josh had a hawk outside his basement window and the kid next door took a picture of another one. Oh and while they were at it they could cut out the three knocks on the door. I AM SICK OF IT ALL! I don't care any more. All I want it to have my dog back and since that can't happen why can't the Powers that Be just LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE AND GO PEDDLE YOUR SIGNS AND PORTENTS SOMEPLACE ELSE BECAUSE I HAVE HAD ENOUGH. What good is knowing something is going to happen only you don't know what or where or when? Screw this 'your special, the angels have picked you' stuff. My angels woudl never play with me this way.

My precious boy is gone. I keep expecting to see him in the hallway ourside of the craft room door, grinning at me and rolling over onto his back, or bouncing about the kitchen clacking his jaws and begging em to play the treat game, or yodeling to me through the front window when I pull into the driveway, grinning all the while as he races down the drive way to greet me, Tail wagging so furiously I often wondered why the power of that didn't lift his butt into the air much like the whirling blades that lifts a helicopter into the air. Or have him hide his chews in the oddest places aroudn the house so that Ollie can't get them. No more treats in the bed, my shoe or in my purse. His last night on earth he was laying at the foot of my bed as I read and went down to Josh once the lights were out. The next moringin I found a half chewed treat in my bed. Rocco's last gift to me.

I can;t stand it.