Sticky Brain

I don't know about anyone else, but I have a brain that will NOT let go of a thought once said thought infiltrates the dark recesses of said brain.

For instance... I got the notion in my head yesterday that when Michael and I die, Josh and the dogs will have no place to live.  If they find one, will the yard be the size of ours where the dogs can roam all day and come in exhausted at night?

OK.  It's not as if I could do anything about it.  Michael and I are both is good health so this is ridiculous, right?  Tell my head that.  It keeps playing and replaying and replaying the same damned thing till a panic attack sets in and my nerves are jumping.  I don't know how to stop it or why it decided to rear its ugly head.  All I do know is that I hate it when I get like this.

I blame the dogs.... for this endless thought anyway.

Watching the dogs over the weekend, I again marveled at how much they love their lives and the big yard with its various places that can mean so much to a dog.  There's the bamboo jungle, not to mention a stack of cut and dried bamboo that makes such delightful sounds when Kali and Sparky "dance" on it.
Then there's the overgrown part, the mowed part, the hill of dirt for digging, the deck for basking in the sun as well as the driveway for that and the front porch.  There's smells and people walking up and down the street and the dogs across the street and birds and squirrels and places to bury stuff.  The dogs are lean, their coats so shiny you would think we polished them and a doggy door that allows them access to all that yard whenever the mood strikes.  so it's no wonder I wouldn't want them, in their youth to lose all of that.  But why think of that now?

I swear that parts of my brain are controlled by some evil troll that whispers these things over and over making my life unbearable at times.  It's as if this troll does not want me to have a good thought or enjoy something.  I love watching the dogs in the yard and so the troll whispers.  If I'm happy (which isn't often) the troll whispers again and if there is trouble, the troll builds on it till my head is spinning.

I take prozac and that helps somewhat but this troll is strong.  I just have to find some way to be stronger.

Mama'Z Baby Boy

Sparky is growing fast.  He's lost is rounded puppy belly and his puppy fuzz and has now gained a long lean middle schooler's body with a shine that looks as if we polish him each night.  His legs have gotten long and his feet are bigger every single day.  I'm thinking I may end up getting a saddle  and riding him places.  My own little pony.

I have never had a dog that simply played.  Even when the big dogs are about, Sparky will play with something and keep himself quite amused.  The other night he came prancing into the craft room, dragging something and stinking up the room.

Now, Sparky is not without toys.  They are usually spread across the living room along with half chewed bones, bits of rawhide plush and plastic squeakies and even a half unrolled ball of yard that he just loves.

So what does he drag into the craft room?  Some foul smelling, half disintergrated, covered with mud and who knows what all a once plush flamingo.  And he was prod of it, carrying it around for most of the night. 

I;m hoping I'm wrong but I think the last time I saw that particular flamingo, we had burried it with someone, either Rocco or that poor puppy Patti.  I suppose I'll have to be brave and go see if we have any holes in the graveyard. 

Then this morning I find Josh's lost slipper on an outside step.  Again it looked as if it had been burried but since it was only missing for a matter of days, Sparky must have burried it and then dug it up again.

Talk about a buster.  But he loves his mama and that is what counts and we are going to ignore that whole chewing on a titty thing he did last night. 

Small World

This was told to me by Casey.

It seems that Casey has a friend with a daughter just entering High School.
On the first day of class, the teacher wanted them to write something about their first day of school.  It didn't have to be that year just some year.  To make her point the teacher told a story of her own.

It was the first day of Kindergarten and the time for coloring.  So the kids got out their boxes of crayons.  The storyteller had a box of 8 crayons while the boy seated beside her pulled out this ginormous box of crayons that held every color in the world AND had a sharpener to boot.  The storyteller yearned after that box but since she couldn't have it, she hoped with all her might that the boy would share the crayons with her.

With the telling of this story, the storyteller spoke the boy's name and the daughter of Casey;s friend suddenly blurted... "I know that guy!"  Yep.  That guy was my Casey.  Can you imagine.

Now Casey didn't stop with the telling of the story.  He had plans to buy a ginormous box of crayons for the friend's daughter to give to the teacher along with a photo of a sad looking Casey holding a sign that will read "I'm sorry I didn't share".

So I guess the world isn't so big after all.

Besotted

I am crazy about the puppy, Sparky.  He has so much personality, he can't help but make you smile, n ot to mention just laughing out loud.

He has attached himself to me but is willing to love anyone who crosses his path.  Just bend down to per him and suddenly he slides into a puddle at your feet.  Then he takes your fingers into his mouth and give a hearty puppy sigh and all is well with a world.

Vancy (Sparky's fairy godmother) said he was unflappable.  That is certainly the truth.  He has no problem being on his own in the yard; sitting on the dirt pile, chewing a stick, investigating undergrowth, digging a hole and, his favorite, biting the flowers off the annuals on the deck.  He has favorite toys among the ones that the big dogs already had, favoring the ones that they don't favor.  He especially loves a purple pumpkin (the king for trick or treating) sticking his head in it and running about the house bouncing off furniture.  (we would stop him but are usually laughing too much to move)  He's also learned where the toys are kept so he can help himself  and the same goes for the half chewed dog chews though real bones are his favorite.

He comes when you call him and that puppy bounce of his has given way to a sleeker run as his legs are growing longer and leaner.  He's learned that he can dig in his water bowl outside but only drink from the one inside.  He just learned how to get into the bay window, scattering everything before him.He knows to sit back and watch when the big dogs get all hysterical at the fence, joining them when it is safe.  He's learned to be quiet when everyone is sleeping and to pat me gently to wake me up so he can go out in the morning.

He still needs to navigate the inside steps to the basement and the doggy door.  Even though is legs are getting long he's not quite big enough and I don't want him scraping his tummy each time he goes in an out.  He also needs to understand that he stay in the yard when the gate is open and stays out of the way of the car pulling him.  That will come.  Charlie and Kali are showing him.

Charlie and Kali.... As much as they cringed when we first brought the puppy home, the often are the ones to instigate play, luckily only one at a time.  They bark, roll, growl, show teeth and play hungry hungry hippo but they are not as fierce as they may look.  Their patience last only so long but a sharp bark tells Sparky that they are done.  I see them, not so much as a pack, but as a family, with Charlie forging ahead checking out noises and giving hell to people walking up the street without his permission and Kali and Sparky sitting back, close together waiting for the all clear.  Father, mother, son.  What could be more perfect than that?

PUPPY!

I am enjoying this puppy more than I've enjoyed anything in a very long time.  This little guy is so full of personality. 

We had gotten Charlie as a puppy but he was so sick he nearly died and then was still weak once the crises was over so it was almost as if he missed his whole goofy puppy hood and it's only been lately that Charlie has come to accept hugs and loving from me.  Kali was already 8 month old when she joined us.  I think her life was rather subdued living with a full time medical student and while she does get silly occasionally I think she's missing her silly gene.  She's also our killer with three baby rabbits and a ground hog to her credit.  the last baby rabbit was brought into the house where she laid on it rather than let the dogs or me get it.  She finally let me have it and it went right in the trash.

Sparky came to us nearly brand new and so we've gotten to experience his brand new experiences.

Winding down

I haven't felt well in some time.  Not one thing I could put my finger on but more of a lethargy and a disinterest in what it going on around me.

The puppy seems to be the only thing anchoring me.  He makes me laugh, when I don't laugh at anything.  His exuberance is refreshing and his sheer delight in the silliest of things warms my heart. 

I try to post happy things on Facebook, but it's forcing myself and I'm so tired of forcing myself.

We are supposed to be going on a mini vacation to Southern Maryland and I do not want to go.  It was originally to Wildwood NJ but that enticed me even less.  I thought this southern Maryland thing would be a good idea because MIchael likes water and light houses and there are both.  I don't have a bathing suit and do not intend on buying one.  truthfully I'd just like to sleep the days away instead of forcing myself to pretned that I am interested in whatever. 

NOw I have a secret that I want to get out but it's a weird secret and I can't burden anyone with it.  But it has to be said.  I have to say it and put it out into the universe.  It has to do with a pendulum and when I die.  Not pass on, pass away, expire but DIE.  Let's just say I will be lucky to see Halloween.  See why I don't tell it to anyone personally.  First they'd think I was a crack pot and then they'd think they'd have to tell me that I couldn't count on something like that and then they would feel that they would have to tell me that they would miss me.  I shouldn't be morbid.  I shouldn't wish it.  Yammer yammer.  with it here and if it happens (if it doesn't I am going to be seriously pissed because I"ve been holding off getting teeth) I want it known that it was predicted.

Yes I suffer from depression.  No I'm not depressed.  I am just so weary of everything and want to be over that rainbow bridge where I will wait, with my gone before furchildren waiting for these young canine furbabies. 

So that's that.  I'd like to say that it's been fun but it hasn't.  I really am ready.

Oh and I will take nothing into my own hands.  I couldn't do that to  my left behinds. And, even more so, I promised them I wouldn't.  I always keep my promises.

Dog Dynamicz

I love watching the big dogs and the puppy interact with each other and often find myself amazed.

Now that the big dogs no longer think of Sparky as something foreign and, therefore, to be avoided at all costs they are working out their own pack dynamics.

I would have thought that Kali, being the female would want to do the mothering.  All she does do is allow Sparky to pull on her face and play with him as long as it's on her terms.  Charlie is the disciplinarian and a single harsh bark form him will stop Sparky in his tracks.  In fact, Charlie even play referee when Kali and Sparky are playing.  If Charlie thinks that the puppy is becoming too rambunctious he lets him know with that famous one note bark.  I had always said that Charlie reminded me of Matt Dillon, slow and seemingly none too bright.  It seems as if I was right.  Charlie is the Sheriff.

Yesterday I let all three out on the deck.  Kali was the first one down and disappeared into the bamboo.  Charlie followed while Sparky stayed on the deck, too tired to take those steps.  We heard a little dog bark, answered by an unfamiliar big dog bark.  The barks bounced back and forth like a vocal tennis match and Sparky's head turned right, then left, then right, following the sound till be dog bark changed and Kali came running back to the deck to sit beside Sparky while Charlie defended us all with a volley of bark until the big dog that was barking was silenced.  Then here comes Charlie with his sheriff's badge all polished, returning his six shooter to its holster while Miss Kitty and Festus awaited his return.  (ok so I let my imagination wander a bit there)

Only once Charlie gave the all clear by touching noses, they all went down the steps and off to do whatever they do in the bamboo and overgrown grass.  I have noticed that Sparky takes his cue from Charlie.  I'm hoping he will soon figure out the poop outside thing and the doggy door even if it is only to come into the house.   sparky is growing my leaps and bounds with feet the size of ping pong paddles.  Kali lost that hunted, on the verge of a breakdown look, that she had before I told her she could kick ass and Charlie keeps his badge neatly shined since he is the boss, head honcho, sheriff.

Meanwhile, Sparky aka Badger Boy continues to make us laugh with his unbridled joy in all things.  His latest toy, one he chose himself from a craft room, is a ball of ugly yarn which he has unrolled and, I swear has started macramaing into something outrageous,  He loves his pool and the small fan we leave running just for him and the only down side in his life is that $%#( tail that follows him wherever he goes and is always out of reach.

I love having these goof balls.  I will always miss my dogs that have gone before but these guys help to heal my terribly battered heart. 

Mama'z baby

Yesterday was the first day I went back to work after getting Sparky.  All the dogs did fine but I think the baby missed me most because he "dogged" my fotsteps wherever I went.  When I took the dogs out for a bathroom break, Sparky would follow them then dash back to check if I was where he left me and then dashed off again.  Such short legs for so much energy.

When we moved back into the rebuilt house, we chose a glass door for the living room, which gives the dogs a clear view to the street and heaven help you if you walk up or down the street without getting permission from the street monitors first.  They get so fired up, the forget they have a doggy door in the basement.  Instead the glass door is smeared with dog snot, bark breath and who know what all.  Yesterday Sparky joined in the melee, though I doubt whether he knew just what he was barking at or just barking because he could.  Then when I opened the door all three of them tried to get out of the door at the same time and succeeding very badly.  It was like shuffling a deck of dogs:  Charlie's in front, then Kali, Charlie, Charlie, Sparky was crammed in there somewhere.  Finally they managed to burst out of the door but the guy in the street was gone and Sparky really looked quite confused by the whole thing. But he's always ready to join in with bark and running and, of course hopping, he loves to hop my Badger Boy.

I'm ready to head home now.  I need a puppy's tummy to nibble, a big boy's hug to squish me into my mattress and a smart girls head to pat and chest to rub.  Got my work cut out for me.

YAH!

DOGZ! Puppy too

we have a new puppy.  New as in just about 8 weeks old.  New as in he has been our for only 8 days.
We named him Sparky.  the Husband, however, is always asking "What's his name again ?" So it's a wonder that Sparky doesn't think that's his name.

I've had a number of puppies in my time but none of them have been such a buster as Sparky. He was once called Number One and then referred to as Unflappable and the second name fits him to a T.

We have a very large fenced in yards with over grown grass in some sections, cut bamboo and tree limbs stacked in two piles.  There's live bamboo that sways in the wind and a rabbit burrow as well as a hedge hog burrow, a deck, doggie door, puppy pool, people passing to bark at and a mound of dirt to sit on, or dig into.  That's a lot of yard and you would think that a puppy would find it intimidating.  Not Sparky, he just barrels forward, not caring if he's in the company of the big dogs or on his own.

the big dogs were none too happy with a puppy.  That really surprised me because they had taken to each other so readily and when they lived next door after the fire, the were great friends with their dog and cats. Sparky would make Kali cower, while Charlie would do his best to make himself invisible.  That was not what I had planned when I got this puppy and I was heart broken.

Then, by dumb luck, I had realized what I had done.  I had been telling the dogs that there was a puppy coming and that they had to be nice to him and not hurt him and so the dogs were afraid to go near him.  but once I gave each big dog permission to kick Sparky's ass suddenly they were playing.

Josh calls one game the Puppy Tabernacle Choir.  It consists of Kali on that awful turd brown sofa of ours and Sparky on the floor.  Sparky yaps, Kali does some odd hop twirl dance and then sings tohim in a wooop wooop kind of way, then furiously scratches at the sofa.  Yip yap, wooop wooop and then Charlie breaks in with his high pitched girlie voice and you can't hear yourself think.  Yet all tails are wagging furiously and no one gets hurt.

Charlie and Kali have always played a game we call Hungry Hungry Hippos, after the kids' game.  They throw themselves at each other, mouths open making faux growling sounds and play that till one of them either takes off running or falls to the ground.... ok... knocked to the ground.  Since Sparky is only a little bigger than Charlie's head, it would be a dangerous game for a little guy.  Only...... not if Charlie throws himself flat on the ground and hungry hungry hippos Sparky by only raising his head.  More growls, puppy goes rolling over and over only to scramble to his feet and attack once again.

Charlie has appointed himself Sparky's guardian and wherever the puppy is Charlie isn't far behind.  So big and so little and yet they already are buddies.  Kali isn't all that affectionate to Sparky but she loves to run and he loves to chase her.  She'll circle the house twice to his almost one, but she doesn't care.  It had gotten so that Charlie can catch her, the baby can't but it isn't from a lack of trying.

Then when Sparky is pooped out he bounces into his puppy pool where he furiously tries to dig out all the water ending up soaked to the skin and looking a sorry mess.  He doesn't care and enjoys a good dry but only if he can hold onto the end of the towel and you drag him about the floor.  He likes mops too but he rides them more than is dragged.

Sparky wants to be where it is cool and doesn't favor one air conditioning vent over another.  They're all the same to him.  If he wants to snooze but the air isn't on, his very own fan is enough for him and he sleeps with his nose nearly touching the grill of the fan.  And if that isn't cool enough, heck, sooner of later someone is going to open the fridge and he is going to crawl inside and settle down.  Until last night he slept in my room with me but now that he and the dogs are such pals, I've been deserted.  that's fine with me.  I prefer to sleep with my door closed.

There is so much more about this little soul who has come into our lives.  I don't remember the last time I was this happy, or laughed as much.

I have an angel looking out for me.  She doesn't know it but Vancy is my angel.  She fostered Sparky's mom and then the puppies when they came and she moved heaven and earth so I could get my Sparky who was born in Texas and made the 1700 mile journey to my arms.  I will never be able to repay Vancy or thank her enough but I do know there will be a special place in heaven or over the rainbow bridge for her.

How could it be otherwise.  Thank you Vancy.

Right now I feel like ripping the face off someone.

I just got off the phone with a client (a man) who was pissing and moaning to me about stuff and wanting to know how much time he had left to stay in his house.  His house was foreclosed upon and part of our business is to assist homeowners afterwards.  So I (important fact) check the court records each week and notify each client as to their status.  When paperwork needs to be sent to the court, I (an important fact to remember) am the one who scrutinizes the filing, finds the errors and then write up letter to be sent.  I even include a copy for their files, typed envelopes and I (still important) even fill out the certified mail cards and send everything to the client.

SO FOR GOD'S SAKE CAN YOU TELL ME WHY THAT WHEN SOMETHING COMES UP THEY CALL MICHAEL?  Who has to look to the work I (really really important) do to give them the answer.  Who has to pull out their paper file while I have the info in my head and on the computer and I can access it so much faster.

Just think that ex slaves earned the right to vote before women and they elected a man to the Presidentcy who never had any governing experience over a slightly batty woman who ruled a whole STATE for crying out loud.  all of these minority groups are crying unfair for being judged by their color or religion and yet how do they treat their women?

I want to rip someone's face off right now.  I am so sick of this crap from men that living in a cave on a mountain side looks good... as long as I can take some craft supplies with me.

I know ranting and raving won't change it but for god's sake give women a chance.  Open your ears and listen to what they are saying and not what yo THINK they are saying.  And don't be so afraid of us simply because we can do twenty things and once while you have your one track mind and usually that's closed for repairs or your train of thought has derailed and spilled slimey stuff all over the tracks.  You know who will get stuck with the mess don't you?  Hand me my bucket and mop momma's going in.

Even my dogs are sexist.  They are all over the men, kissing and loving and hanging out with them but one snap of a firecracker or the sound of a siren and suddenly they are sitting on MY feet.  What?  Hey!  Go find Daddy or Josh.  They ave feet too!

Arrrghhhhhhh.

MOtherz Day

Mothers Day came and went with as little fanfare as possible.  Just the way I like it.  we aren't big ones for fuss and bother when it comes to birthdays etc.  The family knows what it feels for each other so we don't have to put it out there for the world to see.

Casey did invite me out to lunch but we decided it would be such a mad house that it would be better if we postponed it a week and went next weekend.  Josh was working and since he couldn't cook for me, he brought me cream of crab soup from work so I would have a treat.  It was delicious but so rich I couldn't eat it all.  The dogs showed me extra affection.  What more could a woman want?

I'm on Facebook and there are all those Happy Mother's day and the Share if you Love/loved/miss your mother.  Knowing that I will sound like a real bitch, I must say that I don't miss my mother and in fact, found it a relief when she died.

My mother insisted to be the Princess all the time, every time.  Even once I had kids, she had the idea that she had to come first that we HAD to lavish her for Mother's Day despite the fact that I was a mother too.
Then there was that whole figure out what to buy her thing.  She never really showed any appreciation for anything I gave her and so I had nothing to reference when the next present buying season came around.  Christmas is the best example.  She;d open a gift, asked if I made it and if I said 'yes' she'd reply with a humpf, if I said 'no' she'd respond with a humpf. FOR GOD'S SAKE WOMAN!  DO YOU WANT HANDCRAFTED STUFF OR NOT???  I would find myself so knotted with worry that I would end up with a stomach ache.  Then she'd refuse to come to my house, but didn't want us at hers so we had to go to my sister's where there was a guarantee that my sister and her husband would shout at each other at least once, with my mother joining in occasionally and that was on top of the melt down while my sister tried to cook.  I could have sent a rocket to the moon with less fuss.

So I enjoy my quiet holidays.

Too bad they don't last longer.

Uh Oh

Last night, while speaking to Michael, who was heading back to the office to pick up a payment from someone, I made a mistake and used the words... BuhBye...in .. the... car.

The dogs heads shot up and they went zooming down the hallway then back, grinning from ear to ear, tongues flapping because I said those majic words Buhbye in the car.  So off they all went.  Charlie, Kali and the old Fart.  They took their regular positions: Kali in the back seat, Charlie and Michael up front.  Out, stop, money, back and they were home after a whole 15 minutes...tops.

They stampeded into the house, grinning tongues flapping, skidding down the hallway because they missed the turn into the craft room, and plowing into a heap of dogs (if two can be called a heap) against the wall. 

I don't want to even imagine what it would be like if we said the magic words adding one more.... CHICKEN.  The dogs are downright goofy about chicken. 

Later Charlie comes into the craft room with that look in his eye.  the "Uh, mom, there is something on the stove that nobady is eating so...CAN I HAVE IT?  I told him he had to wait till my show was over.  PBS no commercials.  So just as the show is ending, in comes Kali with a look that I don't quite understand so I ask her to show me.  She leads me out of the craft room, checking over her shoulder to make sure I'm coming, then goes to Charlie as if to tell him that it's now his turn to lead me into the kitchen where CHICKEN was waiting to be eaten.  So now I'm being double teamed. 

Is it possible that the dogs are smarter are me?

Somedays I think trees are smarter are me.

Randomnezz

Just stuff that floats through myhead today.

Got home yesterday to find the front door WIDE OPEN.  And I mean so wide open it looked as if we didn't even have a door.  Can't figure out how that happened since we all left the house through the kitchen door.. Even thought the house is basically new we are having problems with doors catching when you close them.  That is why we always have to lock the top lock on that door when we let the dogs out that way.  So all I can think is that one of the dogs unlocked the door from inside because they didn't feel like using the doggy door. 

BTW all was well inside.  Nothing missing.

Am I the only person in Elkridge who gets things from China?  I've had to take packages to their  correct owners because, it seems, if it comes from China in a brown padded envelope it must be for me... even though one package was labled for a Carlos Ramierz, another for a man and the other day there was a brown box on my door step for THE CHINESE PEOPLE ACROSS THE STREET!  This last package came from Amazon but I suppose since it was going TO chinese, I should get it.  So now I am very careful to make sure the package is for me and not some random person.  Besides.  I think I've worn out the stuff I want from China through e-bay anyway.

Hey, free shipping and under a dollar.  How could I resist. 

I want a puppy.  A little cuddly love bug of all my own.  Michael says we can get one but I know with the other two dogs in the house, the pack will expand to three and I STILL won't have a doggy of my own.  So no puppy.

Still no great crafting inspiration tho I did paint the metal seahorses that Michael so disliked in the bathroom.  I decopauged a bit of the one I painted yellow and have ideas to spruce up the other two only I find myself sitting at the craft table staring blankly at the TV getting nothing done.  I wonder if going back on my Prozac will help.  I just wish it didn't give me such a case of indigestion.

Onto Elkridge's murder trial.  I've mentioned it before.  I slightly knew the victim, we were volunteer mothers our sons in the same class, and it is heart wrenching to think that , not only had her husband killed her, but buried her under their shed in the yard where their kids played.

Well the trial has come and gone.  He's found guilty of second degree murder, sentencing is in August, and yet I am even more unsettled.

Now I am not a rocket scientist.  I'd like to think I have a good brain and that common sense is a part of that.  I am now wondering just how stupid people think that other people are.  For instance.....The defense for this trial was thus.... The husband didn't kill his wife.  The wife committed suicide (then buried herself under the shed. poured concrete on top of herself) ( wouldn't you think that the husband would have noticed a newly poured concrete floor and said something to somebody).  The wife was killed by somebody else.  Again, shed, concrete, wasn't the husband suspicious?  It wasn't the wife under the shed.. though the remains had the wife's purse, jewelry and photos of her family.  I guess some robber came in, stole the stuff then decided to hide out in a hole dug under the shed and pour concrete on him/herself.  It wasn't the wife under the shed at all.  The husband killed someone else and buried them under the shed with his wife's stuff.  Really now..

The never did DNA on the bones though they did do a dental comparison.  In fact, the bones, which was all that was left of her, had been cremated before the trial even began.  Guess who paid for the cremation... the husband.  If it wasn't his wife why did he pay to get them cremated?  Why didn't the authorities hold onto the bones until trial instead of releasing them to the family?  It wasn't like the sons were going to hold onto them.  No they wanted their mother to have a proper ending. 

Anyway the jury wasn't as stupid as they thought and did the right thing.  Yet, so much damage has been left behind, i wonder if anyone will fully recover.  I hate to think of what is going through the sons' minds now knowing for certain that thier mother was where they thought she was for so long.  I bury my animals with more dignity.  Poor Christine.  I hope she is at rest now.

So that's me and my brain, which I sometimes think has a mind of its own.  Till next time.

Just Stuff

We got a chance to sit on the deck this weekend.  For once no rain.  I really like this deck and will probably be spending a good deal of time on it this spring and summer.  First of all it is so firmly built that it give you a sense of security and just high enough off the ground that you know you are off the ground, if that makes any sense,  It faces the backyard and the pool and the bamboo so we don't have to look at Hagatha and her minions across the street.  Our big back yard backs up on another big back yard which we can't see anyway because of the bamboo.  It's just very serene and once I fill the big pot I bought with plants and move the orange tree out it wll be even better.

The dogs are already great fans of the deck just to go out and lounge and it's the only place outdoors that the last and ancient cat Chloe will go.  Yesterday Charlie took up residence sprawled in front of the steps leading down to the grass and it looked as if he was protecting us, blocking us from marauders coming up the stairs.  There were no marauders, of course, only Kali doing something on the pile of cut and dried bamboo that made it clunk and rustle and nearly chime against each other.

I know I have said it before but the dogs LOVE the yard.  When I think of last year and the cramped yard in the rental house and the small porch out front that was their only territory it makes  my heart hurt.  Not to mention Crabby Appleton next door to us who would pet Kali but not Charlie because he didn't like "that dog".  Hey A-hole you either pet one or none.  Now the dogs can start at out back fence and run full out to the front fence and get up a good speed as they do it.  Then they can explore the stands of bamboo and the perimeter of the fence not to mention under the deck, under the porch and anywhere they darn well please.
Kali has already started her first hole project.  I find it amazing that she can dig straight down, more neatly than I would using a shovel.  I think she's hunting for moles.

Charlie on the other hand buries  It's usually his bones, that's when he doesn't bring them in to me in the craft room for me to hold onto them for him.  Someday, in the far future, archiologists will be digging up the yard and wonder if there was some great extinction event that took place there instead of one big dog burying his bones. I wonder if he knows that Emily, Mutley, Ollie, Rocco, Neba, Pip, Twirly, Patchwick, Honey, Poppy, Robin, Bum Bum, BUmmy Rubbits, Iggy Juana, Patty and crew are all burried there under his feet.

My but there will be a gag waiting for me when it's my turn to go over the rainbow bridge.  Can't wait.

Life

Life is sometimes like riding in a car with one square wheel.  You still move along but with a bump and a jerk and a gritting of your teeth.

Teeth.  Shudder.  I need denturez.  Upper plate this time because my teeth have been breaking at an unheard of rate and now I look like I should be one of the three MacBeth witches.  Now I know why they were always stirring a pot of something liquid... they could no longer chew.  I can chew, sort of.

So now I need to search for dentures and think I have found a place but the price makes me shudder even though we have the money in the bank.  I hate to use it but I hate the way I look more.  That's why I have a pig as my facebook photo.  I have never been a beauty, ask my  mother,  but now... shudder.  I'm not scared of going to the dentist.  I'm always in so much pain, I can handle pain and this one has basically given me the total cost.  the only blip there would be if the teeth extraction is normal or complicated.  As you can imagine, complicated costs more.  Again, I hate to spend the money.

So I can do pain and money but what really has be hesitating is work, the job, the business.  Months ago I was supposed to teach Michael how to do what I do so he could take over, but ti didn't happen.  the man wastes so much time at work I doubt he will ever get caught up while I hate leaving work for the next day.  However, I think I have figured out on which day would be the best for the extractions to give me as much time to get over the pain and become human once more.  I think.  I seem to be in charge of so much in the office that I anticipate regular phone calls with questions that he should know the answer to but doesn't.  Oh well, such is life.

As for that square wheel... I still haven't gotten to Artway (the storefront for Polymer Clay Express ) my favorite store in the world.  I can't go by myself because it would through Michael for a loop.  We did try to go to only have something go snafu and, while we ere nearly there, we had to turn around and come back.  It's about an hour from home, if we take the backways, and slightly shorter by highways.  It was a belt that snapped and a pulley froze... Translation... the hamster fell off the wheel.

Now the light over the stove went out.  This light is part of the microwave above the stove and whiel I got the hatch open, I twisted the bulb without making the proper sacrifice to the appliance bulb gods and I snapped it off.  I think it was a push and twist and not just a twist and twist.  So now I have a bulb base stuck in it AND the opening where the bulb goes is so narrow not only do I scrape my knuckles but there is no way I can get any tool in there to get the bits out.  Sigh.  HOwever... ta tata ta ta TAH! I have come up with a solution of sorts, tho it looks funny.  Before christmas, Dollar Tree had LAMPS for sale at, yes, $1.00 a piece.  I bought five.  Three with a base and two that clamp AND they came with bulbs.  So now I put one of the clamp ones to work hanging onto the bottom edge of a cabinet.  You see, silly me, when I chose the ceiling fan lights for the house I got them with frosted glass which wasn't the brightest idea (groan) and in the kitchen the ceiling light fan isn't even above the kitchen area but the eating area and so it can be awfully dim in there.  So I stuck a red clamp on lamp to the cabinets and it works well.  Even tho the husband hasn't yet noticed it.

More house news... we got CURTAINS for the living room.  I like the color of the living room but I don't LIKE the living room and the brown turd sofa.  we weren't going to curtain the windows since we appreciate the sunlight so much but I had to do something.  Now I don't know if you've shopped for curtains lately but many of them now come with these big old ugly eyelets along the top that, I suppose, make them slide better along the rod but PHEW they are ugly.  they remind me of  shower curtains or a craft project gone wild though I have no idea where you would even GET eyelets that big.  So no eyelets, no frilly frou frou, no ruffles or swags or valances, just curtains, please.

We were in Pier One of all places and found the perfect pair of curtains.  Printed but not too girly or flowery, and just the right colors.  Now I just need a curtain rod for them and dare I hope for someone to install the curtain rods?  Guess I'll be doing them and that ought to be a sight to see as my eye isn't always all that straight and I am always too impatient to do things the proper way.  Hay if I could slap them up on the window with tape, I would.    Of course the curtains would be doing anything to help the turd sofa but I hope, at least, it'll distract me from the turdiness, because we'll have CURTAINS!  Which we will probably never close but that's beside the point. 

there will be pictures eventually.

So I suppose that's it.  I'm eager to get out on that deck and sit in the sun but it's not quite warm enough yet.  We did look at a deck set that Michael wanted but it was so big and our deck not the largest that it would seem to be all table and chairs and no deck.  Maybe I;'ll just do what the dogs do when they go out on the deck and jsut lay down on the planks and sleep in the sun.  Until Charlie comes over and kisses my face and then rolls over on me as his version of a hug.  That's a lot of Charlie and a lot of hug.

And with sprng comes Charlie's projectile shedding. 'Nuff said.

Britizh TV

Since one of our local PBS stations have gone strictly British, I find myself watching no network TV.  Instead I switch on WETA UK (447 for those local with verizon) or BBC America and only if there is nothing of interest do I go to other cable channels.

So I was wondering why I like british Tv so much and here is what I cam up with.

Dr. Who... well of course, who wouldn't like zipping around multiple universes and times in a blue box that is bigger on the inside.  The 10th Doctor however will always be my favorite.

British mysteries where people die and sometimes horribly but you don't actually SEE it.  My favorites are Old Dogs, Vera, Murder in Paradise and Poriot (sp?).

OLd people.  British Tv has no qualms about having shows with old people, which in America it seems that old on Tv happens at the age of 40 while the British let their wrinkles show and don't give a fig about them.

Large people.... yep you can be large on British TV and no one makes a crack about it.

The not so attractive people... Nope you don't have to be beautiful to be on British TV, youjust have to be talented

And plain old talent that it not pigeonholed into a single genre.  For instance a woman who shows up on Dr. who pops up in a comedy, a period piece and a mystery.  The guy with the go funny eye shows up in dramas etc. 

Oh I almost forgot that british accent, though I must admit the scottish accents take a bit of listening but who else but the British could say fart Fah- t and make it sound classy?  Not that the British do actually fart... sorry fah-t.

I even like the British Antiques Roadshow that once had a presenter who looked like a pug.  Really.  On America's Antiques Roadshow a person goes crazy if something is appraised at a couple thousand or more.  On the british version a painting is worth 250,000 pouds and the owner blinks once and simply murmurs 'Brilliant"

Oh and 'Brilliant"  Imagine saying Brilliant instead of Good or that's nice.  Brilliant conjures fireworks and ticker tapes and parties.

So there you go, me and my British TV.

Not Nice

I often find myself being a not so nice person and do you know what?  I really don't care.

Being nice hasn't gotten me anywhere.  Niceness is rarely reciprocated and I am tired of smiling and turning the other cheek.  The cheek left facing the world is really starting to sting.

For instance....

There is this Mommy Blogger I used to follow.  I found her funny and her daughter, then daughters delightful but then Mommy Blooger got too big for her britches flying off here and there, running marathons, going to Africa, rubbing shoulders and hob nobbing with the slightly famous.  Frankly it got boring, her telling us she was going to appear on this show and that.  Who cares really.  The people she was telling on her blog were already reading her so why did we have to know she was out there trolling for more.

Ok.  all of that I could put up with but then SHE BOUGHT A HOUSE.  Not a house, a mansion with god knows how many rooms.  A house so big they all had to carry cell phones so they could locate each other.  By this time she and her husband both were only blogging for a living and, while they were popular then, I wondered how long would it last.  People eventually grow tired of things, then where would professional bloggers be?  I thought it was stupid to take on so much house but I wasn't paying the mortgage and so what.

But then she began to furnish the house and we were treated to what seemed like photos of every single thing going into that house; from rugs to baby furniture to dog beds.  It was like she was shoving all of this into our faces.  yes, I might have been a little jealous living in a small run down home that hadn't seen a new whatever in ages.  Then my house burned, had to be rebuilt and hopefully I wasn't smearing my new stuff onto everyone's faces.  I hope not.  I would hope that my new sofa aka the Big Brown Turd did not rouse jealousy in anyone.  Though I suspect the fairy door might.

So I stopped reading Mommy Blogger and , bored, I looked at her blog yesterday.

She had to sell the mansion.  I guess that's what happens when you throw your husband out.  The one that was paying half the bills.  She had to sell the mansion and I was happy.  Yes, I know, shame on me, but I was happy she was thrown off that high horse of hers.  It's a bit of a pay back for having to wade through the look at my kincknacks see how they reflect the light and look at all this stuff we got for free phases of her life. 

No.  I do not wish to make a living with my writing.

I can really understand how excited someone is with a trip or a new house but really, post after post, facebook after facebook.  OK, we get it already.  You have this hoo haa house or are on this splenderifidous trip and it's good for you but what about people who might not have so much?  (I'm not talking about myself here)  Federal government employees are forced  to lose a day's pay each week.  Unemployment is, or has run out for many.  People can't find jobs, feed their kids and are in danger of losing their homes. Is it any wonder that I'm happy Mommy Blogger had to down size?

So I'm not nice.  So there.  So not nice that I am going to throw my latest purchase in everyone's face.
Ready?  eight cans of catfood and a pack of rawhide chews for the dogs.  Look at me.  woo hoo.

Now What am I Going to DO?

I've stopped crafting.  I don't know if it's for now or forever.  All I do know is that it took me ages to do something rather simple and it looked like crap when I was finished with it.  I just can't craft decently since the fire and so I give up.  Fire won.

So there I sit in the craft room at the table watching TV not knowing what to do with myself.  Can't watch TV in the living room because Michael has claimed that and the rocker which leaves me with the turd colored sofa unless Charlie and Kali are spread all across it.  I have no seat in the living room so into the craft room I go.  Yes, I know... MIchael has a TV in his room and he could watch it in there but the few times I have sat in his chair, some remark was made and I was booted out of it.  Truthfully I don't much like the living room.  I HATE HATE HATE that sofa that we had to buy for Michael to get that damned recliner.  We have very little furniture in it and it feels king of sterile.  I have only one TV... hey I don't rate a tray table, I'm certainly not going tor ate two tvs!

So there I sit with my hands in my lap watching tv.  Sigh.  It is pretty sad if you think about it and lately I have... been thinking about it I mean.  All in all my life has been pretty sad and by now you'd think I'd have gotten used to it.  There is one great consolation... I'm 61... I certainly can't expect to be around forever and I am anxious to cross that rainbow bridge... I have some dogs and cats and hopefully pigs waiting for me.  Now THAT is heavenly.

I think I need a baby

NOT a human baby mind you but a baby of some sort.  I saw a photo on Facebook of a darling 1 1/2 year old girl dog who just lost her home and family and the craving hit.  She's in a shelter in West Virginia and is on hold until 5:30 this evening.  If she isn't adopted by then, I want her.  Husband and son are agreeable.  Husband even suggested that we get a puppy instead but with what Charlie went through with his bacterial infection and losing Patty to Parvo, I figure an older dog will be much better.  Beside I doubt a puppy could keep up with Charlie and Kali.

The West Virgina shelter only needs to see our driver's license to adopt.  Howard County (where I live) wants a pint of blood and your first born.  The do a house inspection and even refused the best enighbors in the world a dog simply because said neighbors have a goat... a pygmy.. B Boy... he and I have a bleating conversation every morning. The neighbors already have a dog that the goat doesn't bother so who knows what they were thinking?   I know it's supposed to be the best for the animals but really now.  And the local rescue groups want and average of $300 when you adopt.  So to West Virginia we may go.  If I don't get this girl it means another family did and that's what's important.  As long as she gets a home.

I was also considering a rescued pot belly pig till I read up on them and then decided a pig is not the way to go.  They get bored and destroy things, they can get their feelings hurt and destroy things, they are always on the lookout for food and can destroy things.  They can also live 20 years and since I"m already in my sixties... well.. a pig is out of the question. 

I don't want a car or kitten because I am sick to death of the remaining cat we have using whatever for a litter box (yes her box is clean) including the laundry bag with the laundry in it.  I am quite sick of the smell of cat pee and the crunch of litter underfoot.  I need something that will give me affection and not only 'allow' me to give it affection.

So.. that's the story morning glory.  Maybe with a new baby in the house I won't be so awfully grumpy all the time.  Fingers crozzed.

Thoughtz

Why is it that I love the look of messy collages and art journals on people's sites and yet mine are so constrained that they almost have chains around them.  Tho, chains about them would be a rather fanciful idea to do but I'm wandering.

So I look at these creations with splats of color and doodles drawn on top and some clever saying and would give my eye teeth to do something  like that.... but I can't.  I can't let go.  I wonder why not.  Why can't I just say the hell with it and get messy.  The craft room is messy, the table is in a deplorable state and yet... there the art journals or glue books or whatever you call them are so very prim and proper.  It was the same with decorating the rebuilt house.  I fussed and fretted and fretted and fussed for months to find just the right thing.

This morning the husband said that he agreed with me that the bathroom needed something and that something in his opinion was a Christmas scene decal that stretched along the length of the wall.  WHA?????

There is a decal along that same wall, down near the baseboard where I have gold fish swimming beneath a stretch of bumpy waves complete with drips and spurts.  It's a whimsical looking thing that always makes me laugh.  The decal is above but as i said, mine is on the wall.

So now we're supposed to put a Christmas scene above that?  I wanted to scream "NONONONONO" but instead I just walked away.  Trust me... there will be NO Christmas scene..

Before the fire... I know, there I go again.... I could have slapped any old thing up on any old spot and been happy with it.  Now I'm all matchy matchy and it makes me feel as if I am wearing wool underwear all itchy and scratchy.  I don't like matchy matchy and if I really do think about it, I think I now want my house done in a way and ADULT would do it instead of the little kid that has lurked inside of me. 

I don't know what to do about it.  Or if I should do anything at all.  I don't know which is the real me, the one who touches up splotches on the wall with the paint the contractors left or the me who would have ignored it or just slapped something over it.  I don't know which of the me I want to be either. 

I've had a sudden flash of insight.  Maybe I am now so matchy matchy because it would be tantamount to a SIN to spoil those lovely bright walls or to clutter those lovely counters or ding a bit of woodwork.  It would be as if I didn't appreciate the beauty around me now after all those years with paneling on the wall, scarce sunlight and things falling slowly apart.  Cabinet drawers that were always crooked no matter how many times I tried to fix the thing they ride along, the thing that always went cockeyed again within a week.  Some kind of odd stucco like something that was peeling away from the kitchen light fixture that I had no idea how to repair.  Shower doors that no longer rolled, windows that rattled, floors that creaked, wall to wall carpet that was pulled up from someone else house and put down in mine instead of taken to the land fill.  Furniture that didn't match and was on its last legs.  SO now I should APPRECIATE what I have and keep it perfectly.  But I suspect it isn't the real me and maybe until I can reconcile myself to the fact that this is home with all its color and light and I can do things that aren't so perfect, I really won't be at ease.  I'll keep expecting someone to show up for an inspection and find me lacking. 

Lacking when I am expected to be perfect.  Something that will never happen.  No matter what.

Obzezzed

I have become obsessed in covering glassware with clay canes.  I post a pic of them a couple of blogs back and since then they are steadily growing in number.  I don't know why I keep making them, other than the fact that I like making them but I have been without craft inspiration for so long, I'm thinking of following this to the bitter end.  It may mean that I will have to go to a craft show to sell them or foist them off on friends as birthday gifts.  That is if I can bear to part with them.

I think this lack of inspiration stems from the fire.  Yes, I will blame everything on the fire.  I wonder if it is that my brain won't give me ideas because what's the use?  I'll make something only to lose it again.  So I'm taking advantage of this spurt to clay and clay until my fingers fall off.

It's been a little more than a year since the fire.  I have had only one dream about it and it wasn't even the fire itself.  I had  adream that I had Isabella (the missing cat) in my arms and I said something like "She's not hurt at all only dirty."  I know now I won't see her again and it's hard, especially since the cat we have left had decided that anything on the floor of my bed room can be peed on.  sigh.

Maybe I woudl get over this all the faster if Michael didn't keep asking me if I wanted to go back to the hotel to live or if he would stop threatening to drive past the rental home.  Neither place ever made me feel really comfortable and, tot tell, the truth, home still doesn't feel like home.  It still feel impermanent as if I am just visiting and waiting to go home.  I love the house now with its colors and sunlight but it still isn't quite home.  Maybe come summer when I'm on the deck or visiting with the animals who have made the trip over the rainbow bridge, I will begin to feel settled.  I hope it happens soon.  I am weary of bursting into tears at the drop of a hat. Like now.  Maybe I should just stop dropping hats.

Almozt a year

It's been nearly a year since the fire and I'm wondering when I'm going to stop getting upset over what I lost.  I don't think it's just the fire that gets to me but losses over the past number of years.  It seemed to have started when I lost my Rocco and then my precious Ollie.  Just when I decided I wanted to be a dog mother again and got Charlie, he nearly died and there I was in crises mode.  Charlie recovered but it felt like I had missed his puppyhood.  I guess it's hard to be a bouncing ridiculous puppy when you've faced death.  So once he was strong we got another puppy, Patty who was dead within days.  More vet visits, Parvo this time, and a puppy dying alone in the bedroom. 

I feel that I let Patty down so.  We had to keep her quarantined so that the parvo wouldn't spread to Charlie and only after she was gone that it dawned on me that maybe she should have had a heating pad.  Charlie had Frankie our ancient cat to curl up against when he was ill and maybe it was the warmth of her body or just her touch that helped.  Patty had none of that.  I couldn't even cuddle her as I would have liked for fear of carrying the infection out of the bedroom and onto Charlie.  I feel as if I let that poor baby down.  We wanted to adopt again, up and down with here's a pup and there's a pup and , eventually we got Kali.  Old cat Frankie died, a cousin died and only then did I find out I had lost more relatives that my sister neglected to inform me about.  It had always been in our family that one person in each family group is called to spread the word to the others.  Since my sister had decided to disown me, she couldn't be bothered to tell the rest of the famiily about that and so, I am sure, certain cousins looked at me as some kind of heartless shit.

Then came the fire and the cat the disappeared.  My dear little Isabella the timidest cat in the world.  Who knows what happened to her once she got out of the house.  Then there was living in a hotel and then the rental, sandwiched in between two households that weren't reluctant to show their dislike of us and added to that, the breakdown in my relationship with my son..  Well, you know how it goes, I have written of this before.

And all through that, I was NOT allowed to cry.  Everytime I broke down there was a lecture.  Crying over Rocco and Ollie were ridiculous, they were only dogs.  Crying over Patty, the same, and why did her death make me so unhappy, I hardly knew her.  Why cry over the house, everyone got out fine, it's only things, look at how beautiful it is once rebuilt.  Only it still doesn't feel like home.  It doesn't feel permanent. It doesn't feel right and still I should not cry because it was a blessing.

So now I find myself breaking down over inconsequential things.  A photo of a strangled pup on Facebook that sent me into hysterics, a stray thought, a memory.  As if to make matters worse, I was found crying one day only to to be told that they reason I was crying now is that the stress was over and I allowed myself to cry.

WHAT? 

Perhaps that is why I had a breakdown at the elderly neighbor's funeral.  One where I had to hide myself away so that my tears could not be seen. 


So what is all of this about?  I don't know.  I suppose I still feel so lost and broken and fragile that I am reaching out for any life line.  Even if it is putting down all of these losses and this pain down into the written word will help to ease them out of my head.  To make me whole again. 

Will it work.  I don't know but I do wish I could find my laughter again.



I think that was a victim of the fire as well.

So the Ravenz won

which is great because I was about to vomit purple.

It seems my head bands were a hit and others have taken up the feathers, for which I'm grateful.  For now I'm putting the feathers and ribbons etc away and won't crak it out till next year. 

I am not a football person but Josh and the best neighbors in the world were all excited about the Superbowl so I am glad their team won.  After the win I could hear Josh hootn' all the way down the street as he went out to find other hootners and, perhaps, the people setting off fireworks.

I wish I could get that excited about something.  I used to get excited about stamp conventions but then got saddled with a person who, frankly I wouldn't be the friend of normally, and it all ended badly.  You see, I felt sorry for this person because she had no one to hang with and felt self conscious on her own so I offered to go to ONE just ONE convention with her.  Oh my.  She complained about this and she complained about that and she really didn't like me in the rubber pit at Rubber Baby Buggy Bumpers, yet refused to go off on her own.  Why did I go with her the next year?  Because her husband drove her and he and Michael would go get something to eat or go to the movies and once to a strip club where they stayed for a beer and left because according to Michael it certainly wasn't what people believe a strip club to be.  He found it kinda sad, actually.  Now this person lives in Florida.... life coaching away... supposedly and I suppose I could go again on my own but the convention has moved to Allentown PA which is much further then Pennsauken. 

So now I need to find some sort of excitement in my life.  But what?  Any suggestions?

And when I say excitement I do NOT mean fending off an enraged sow, chasing after bank robbers and/or burning my house down.  Something where my life is NOT in danger would be great.

Sometimes I take the oddz bodkinz part of my life a bit too far.

Of Ravenz and Headbandz

I have been making feathered and glitzed headbands for Josh to give away to the Ravens' (football) fans that he knows.  Apparently they have been a big hit since neighbors who have never said a work to me in the 30 years I've lived in the neighborhood have been asking me when they will be getting their free stuff.  Pfui.

Anyhow, I am Ravened out but they are playing in the Superbowl so I decided to really glitz up a new headband for the Greatest Neighbor in the World who just lost her mother.  So I bought some more purple and gold decorations and ribbons... Joann's had 70 and 90% off their Christmas stuff and sat down to create.  Pfui twoey.  So instead, I carried box o'purple stuff next door and Becky.. the greatest neighbor in the world... and I sat and made headbands.  Ok... Becky made most of the headbands and they are sooo much better than mine.  I made 2 while she made five or six.  She made herself one and the others were going with Josh to work to hand out there.  Josh and Becky's son both work at the same bar/restaurant.  I didn't slack off entirely on Saturday, I did make two headbands BUT I made a couple of bracelets for Becky.  She was having such a good time, it was fun just watching her have fun.  Sometime during that session her son came home said he wanted to make headbands but couldn't that day.  His days off are Monday and Tuesday so box o'purple stuff went back next door and he and his girlfriend made stuff.  In fact, Josh even made himself a headband when he went over there yesterday after work.

I know.... headbands for a guy?  Well Josh came home on that Sunday wearing a headband... in fact the one I had made that I thought was too masculine looking.  So now everyone at Daniels has a feathered beribboned glitzied head band, men and women alike.  I could have probably made a fortune if I sold these things. 

Still the big box o'purple stuff isn't emptied.  I feel as if I'll be dragging around all that purple stuff for the rest of my life. 

It is really amazing how something as simple as feathers and ribbon glued to a dollar store headband (3 for $1 at dollar tree) makes so many people happy.  I'm happy to pass on the headband torch.  There is only so much purple one person can stand.

BTW  Go Ravens!  (I'm not a football fan but it seems my world is.)

Of Funeral and Handcuffz

As I had mentioned in an earlier post, the elderly next door neighbor had died.  She treated Josh like a grandson and to Josh she was the grandmother he never had.  Oh he had a grandmother but she wasn't much of one.

Josh works as a cook at night and so he couldn't go to both viewings but did get out of work early to go to the evening one.  Josh usually walks to and from work, even tho there is a car he can use, and that night, on his way home, two cops stopped him.  Their reason was .... ready?... he was wearing a hat and a winter coat and carrying a bag.  So he ended up in handcuffs.  Apparently the police had been looking for a guy earing a hat and a coat and carrying a bag.  It's winter hoo haas.  Of course he is going to wear a coat and a hat.  As for the bag, he takes his own knife to work.  We got it for him at Christmas and it comes with a platic sheath for the blade so he doesn't dice himself while he was carrying it.  So , of course the cops go tall over him about the knife and he kept explaining he uses it for work but doesn't leave it there because it is HIS knife.  So the police take his ID and do whatever it is they do and the next thing Josh knows is that he is unhandcuffed, given back his bag and knife and the cops get back into their car and leave without a word of explanation or a "Sorry".  Needless to say, Josh didn't make it to the viewing.  He was so pissed.

I can, sort of , understand the cops' actions.  There is this mentally ill young man who is wandering the neighborhood.  Joey carries a hatchet with him and a bag so that the shadows that are after him don't get him AND he has been known to threaten people with the hatchet, peep in windows and generally creep people out.  I don't know if Joey is dangerous but the poor boy is so ill.  Here's what's rankles... Josh must be about 10 to 15 years older than Joey.  Joey and Josh don't resemble each other and Joey is even smaller than Josh.  Now I do know that the police are trying to run him out of the neighborhood but come on.  They should have checked Josh's ID immediately.  The cops had been to the neighbors' house when Nan died, even talked to Michael and I about our fire.  In fact the neighbors are the ones who told the cops that Joey had been released from jail.  So if they had looked at Josh's ID they would have known he wasn't Joey.

Josh did make the funeral, but was late,, because the younger funeral goers had been told that the funeral was at 11;30 instead of 11.  But Josh did get to be a pall bearer.

The funeral was beautiful.  There was lovely live piano music.  It was what Evelyn deserved.  That and more. 

The people at the funeral could not have been a nicer friendlier bunch.  I have realized how socially awkward I can be and usually don't know how to interject myself into a group.   But these wonderfully people just drew me in as if I were family myself and I am forever grateful. .

And yes, I did have my cry, though not where anyone could see and I made Becky, the grown daughter, wear my hat at the cemetary despite her protests that she doesn't wear hats.  It was too cold not to wear one and my coat had a hood.  So I just pushed it down on her head and told her to hush.then I found myself directing people to chairs as if I were running the show.  See.  Awkward.

After the funeral it was food at the place where Josh, the grandson next door and the grandson's girlfriend works and Josh's bosses had the nicest things to say about him.  They love his work ethic, his sense of humor, his cooking and the fact that he sings away in the kitchen when he works. They also mentioned the Ravens' hair doodles that I've been making and Josh has been giving away until nearly everyone has their feathers and glitter and ribbons.  Now it's time to make glitzier, over the top ones for the Superbowl.  The Ravens are bound to win... Josh isn't shaving or cutting his hair till the superbowl and doesn't care if he looks like, in his words, a Sasquatch.  Ah my son the cryptozoological beast. 

Loss

We lost our elderly, very frail next door neighbor last night.

She stopped breathing at home and despite the efforts of the paramedics, she was gone.

I need to give those wonderful men credit here as they worked for nearly an hour to bring her back to the land of the living.

The neighbors house is a small house and oh so many crowded in.  So many that MIchael and I were not allowed in but when bodies shifted I could see the back of the man doing the CPR and that up and down rythmn for a count of five a pause and he started again.  When they finally gave up and quietly left the house their faces were drawn, eyes sad, as if they had lost a member of their own family.

That was when we were allowed in with a warning that Evelyn... the neighbor... was there on the floor, covered with a sheet. 

She hardly made a bump under that sheet but I was allowed to pull back the sheet to say goodbye.   I did tell her to fly away and promised her I'd take care of those she left behind.  This is the family that did so much for us right after the fire.  I can never repay their kindness and the best I could do was to stroke Evelyn's hair and tell her to fly away.

I was suddenly quiet in that little house.  The grown grandson went and got her blanket and covered her with that so she would be warm.  This hit him hard because he always had his Nan sharing the home with him and his family and knew no time when she wasn' there.  He loved his Nan so fiercely.  He with his tatoos and mohawk and those ear pegs of his, kneeling by her side as he and his mom removed his Nans jewelry.  Then he stopped and slid a ring back on her finger.  It was an eternity ring, I think I heard him say.  A ring to speed her on her way.  Oh how tender he was with that old cool hand as he slipped the ring back on. 

The other brother is in a rehab recovering from a leg operation that left behind 40 plus stitches and staples and so wanted to say goodbye.  I can only hope that his Nan visited him in his dreams last night and gave him that changes. 

But that family is not the only one who loved their Nan.  As we sat with the family waiting for the mortician to arrive the young men in the neighborhood began to arrive.  They were stopped at the door so they would tread on Nan murmured their condolences and left.  These men who I knew as boys were broken, one in tears.  One who I thought would never cry, did.  Evelyn was Nan to all of these boys turned men and they would visit with her as if she were their Nan.

When we finally had gotten a rental home, after the fire and Josh was planning to join us, Evelyn told us that we couldn't have Josh back.  That he was her grandson and was keeping him.  JOsh got that slow smile of his, holding that close to his heart.  I also learned that when Evelyn's daughter would return home from work, she would occasionally find Josh there, just sitting with Evelyn, the two of them watching TV.  My mother wasn't much of a grandmother but he found one in Nan.

When the morticians arrived to take Evelyn away, the grandson at home helped to lift and lower her into the bag and then helped the men carry her out.  Evelyn couldn't have weighed much and the men could have lifted her easily but they said nothing, allowing the grandson to help. 

If, at the funeral we are allowed to speak, I have something I want to share.  It is not about memories or a funny story about Evelyn to lift the spirits but, rather, something she said to me that terrible night of that fire.  For a few moments were were alone in the house, Evelyn turned to me with tears in my eyes and told me that she didn't know what she would do if she didn't have her daughter and son-in-law,  They took care of her, she told me, were so good to her and didn't know what she had done to deserve them.

I know what and why.  She was Nan, their Nan and that, in itself is the legacy she leaves behind.  Nan, Their Nan.  Our Nan.  Everyone's Nan.

FLy away Non.  Join your husband and brother and a certain beagle mix named Cuddles who  will be waiting, tail wagging so fiercely it may just fly off.  Enjoy the peace you so rightly deserve.

DogZ

I haven't written much about Charlie and Kali lately.  I don't know if it's these two dogs or that I'm paying attention more closely to what the dogs do, but I swear these two are the smartest ones we've had.

When Charlie wants something we respond with "Show me" and he DOES show me every time.  it can be that he wants a taste of whatever that is on the stove or the cat is inside/outside and wants out/in.  Kali will show me, too, but Charlie is much better at it and I suspect that she whispers in his ear to go tell mom they want such and such and then Charlie does the dirty work.  I've been told that I did this as a child getting myh little sister to do it.  If that is true, I have a good reason for it.  No one could resist the little round cheeked blonde that my sister was as a child,  Compared to my lanky, plain looks who would you choose to give something to?

With the dogs, however, it's more than simple commands of "Show me.".  I made a big pork roast yesterday and, of course, the dogs got a taste.  When they bugged me for more, I told them that they had to wait till Josh had his share and then they would get more.  I didn't think much more about it until Josh came in late and made himself a sandwich.  As soon as he headed down stairs who do you think was at my side, reminding me of my promise.  I kept my promise and they even got some gravy to boot. 

They now have a doggy door in the basement door and each and every time they come in they have to check in with all the people in the house to let us know that they are in.  Charlie doesn't use the door all that often to go out but Kali does and oftentimes you find her whining at your side till you give her permission to use the door and then off she goes, whining all the while as if muttering under her breath.

A Kali story.

Josh got a blue ray surround sound thing at a deep discount at Best Buy.  He was watching an Avengers movie with the sound turned way up.  Kali was visiting him in his room when the Incredible Hulk on the screen growled.  Josh says that Kali's head came up, swung around to stare at the speaker and then was gone in a flash.  She was so upset she forgot the doggy door and Josh had to let her out of the big door.

I swear I have never heard a sound like the one she was making.  If she were human it would be a scream.

She went outside, raced to the front fence and gave the Hulk hell.  She was successful, too, because no Incredible Hulk has ever darkened our doorstep since and then she came in to tell us that we were safe.  Then last night I was watching "Call the Midwife" on PBS and in the midst of the cries of a woman giving birth, my craft room door flew open and both dogs barreled in to save me from whatever.  They were not at all embarrassed that the noise was on TV they had done their duty and made certain I was ok.  Face licking was involved and a few rubs behind the ears and I'll let you guess who did what.

BTW Kali also protects us from birds in the bamboo. 

Those two are certainly a pair, and I am richer for being their momma. 

Theze got left behind.

The ceiling fan in my bedroom.  Can you say Casablanca?

Kali on move in day.  She and Charlie went through the whole move with flying colors.

Decal on bedroom wall.  Looks so much better in person

My bookcase in the bedroom and my Christmas angels.

Decal at the end of the hall.  Have I mentioned I love decals.

So far the only bathroom decoration.  I got these at Dollar Tree when we moved into the rental with the idea of using them here at home and I did.  The bows are their Christmas outfits.

Houze Picz

 I haven't quite mastered either my camera or putting pics into this blog so things are out of order.  Bear with me.  I'll get this figured out eventually... I hope. 

For now, ON WITH THE SHOW!!

Kitchen window over looking the deck and back yard.  That round thing in the bamboo is the bomb shelter we use for storage.

Pasta man decal.  I want to put pizza boxes on the adjoining wall but, so far only have two.

The orange tree the firemen allowed me to take the night of the fire.  Michael and I got this on our homeymoon and we are heading towards 40 years of marriage.

A wooden chest I had bought at IKEA an eon ago.  It was unburned in the craft room but stained with smoke and soot so I did what any crafter would do... covered the drawers with scrap booking paper. 

Decals on the door by the front door.

My craft table.  Good to know some things never change.  All the walls are that blue.

Plants in the garden window.  Need more

Flying solar pig I found at dollar tree.  It flaps away as I craft and has a twin in the garden window because one cannot have too many pigs.

Bedroom window.  This doesn't show the color of the wall well but I like what I did with the clearance sale vines I got at Michaels and the valance that I got at dollar tree.  I kinda impressed myself with this.

Charlie wants to know what I'm doing, why am I sitting on the floor and is there a treat for him involved

Hortense.  She is an odd shaped class covered with clay.  The minute I saw the unclayed glass I saw a person so I had to make that vision come true.  She's beside a fairy door decal outside of the bedroom door.

Totem danglers that I had made on chop stick and tooth picks at the rental then turned into danglers when I bought this shelf for the bedroom.

KItchen on move in day,

The house on move in day.  Peach walls, wood laminate floors and a never before bay window and nearly all glass door.  I wanted sunlight and I get it. 

Nature vs Nurture

A cousin of mine has recently connected with me through facebook and I am happy she did so.

She feels like a friend and the only drawback is that she is in Arizona.

She is also a crafter and makes some spectacular beaded jewelry.  I make earrings and bracelets and such but nothing with such complexity.  Now she's shared her blog with me and now only does she bead but she repurposes as well.

All of this has gotten me thinking.  What gives us our talents?  Nature or nurture.

I have always been making things for as far back as I can remember.  I'm not saying I am an artist just someone who crafts.  I don't stick to just one thing.  I do paper crafts and poly clay and make art dolls, decorate wreaths and whatever catches my fancy.  When the sons were young we had found a large dollhouse at Sally army that the boys wanted turned into a base for their volton Action figures and I spent an entire day making furniture and a command center out of carfboard and shiny paper.  Then there was the halloween top hat that I painted and fun foamed so that it became a haunted hat.  Both sons are creative.  With Josh it's been drawing, then the violin followed by the sax and now along with his cooking, he paints warhammer figures and just recently has started painting a model of a sailing ship.  Casey's talent is mainly his words and computers but now he's become quite the handiman around his house, much like my father was. 

Nature or nurture.  Many of my cousins and my cousins' kids are talented in many ways.  THese are the cousins on my father's side where a Gifted and Talented kid isn't anything unusual,  There are those that paint and those that play music and those that have a way with words and those who decorate and those who craft.  Do we all share a gene?  Or were we all blessed with parents who allowed us to be creative and some who encouraged us to spread our wings and fly? 

I would like to think is is nature.  It would make me feel so connected, like we all had this wonderful secret we hold close to our hearts.  A secret we take our occasionally, admire, grin like fools and then tuck it away again.

All of this makes me wish I was closer to my other cousins.  The failing is mine, I fear.  I simply believe that people are only being nice or putting up with me and I don't want to bother them.  So I don't.  NOt an excuse but an explanation.  Self esteem definitely comes under nurture.

Talent??  However we got our talents and our desires to create, I'm glad I have mine, even if I am only gluing odd stuff to a wreath or making my umpteenth polymer clay whatever or walking about with an unknown streak of glitter across my nose.  I makes me calm and sometimes, when the stars are just right, I make something that surprises me.