STILL NO POOP

Day five and still no poop from Perfect Pup.  AND she's just a tad bit spoiled from all the near death attention she's had for the last week.  Normal behavior for her is to jump up and run to the door when she has to water and/or fertilize the lawn.  I'm on permanent potty patrol since Teenage Girl decided PP is too big to fit in a purse therefore not near as cute as her future pup will be and has since unclaimed her as her property.  How does that work exactly?  I'd like to do an "unclaim" (or two) of my own.

I'm on high alert for poop n scoop and ready to run to the door at the hint of a squat and since it's fairly likely it could be of the runny-messy variety CODE ORANGE is in effect until further notice.

SO:

7-11am  Going out every half hour.

11-2pm  Running and dancing her way to the door every 20 minutes.

2:15pm  I notice she is very interested in one particular spot near the road.

2:22pm  Needs to go out again, runs straight to "the spot".

2:32pm  Can't wait any longer to get out the door, runs straight to THE SPOT, this time I follow . . . Crap! Dead bird . . . get a paper towel and pick up dead bird and throw it across the road.

2:40  Wants to go out again and since she didn't go pee the last two times she was out, I take her.  Dashes straight to The Spot.  NO BIRD, runs ACROSS THE ROAD, damn I'm brilliant! I run after her and pick her up, take her inside and get another paper towel, go back out by myself and take the damn freaking dead bird to the trash can this time.

3:04pm  Realizing she still hasn't peed now for over an hour so out we go AGAIN!  PEES AND RUNS ACROSS THE ROAD AND SNIFFS THE SPOT until I fetch her and take her back inside.

3:10  If I don't look at you, I can't hear you whine.

3:17  Dancing doesn't get me running to the door either.

3:25  Uh nope.

3:38 EMERGENCY this could be IT, she has to get outside NOW!!  BOLTS across the street, buries her nose and comes up with gravel and a stray bit of feather fuzz sticking to it before I can drag her back to the yard.   Pulling a shovel out of the back of my truck I head across the road and scoop out the dirt the damn freaking bird touched and carry it to the trash can.  In the meantime not so Perfect Pup is right back to the ORIGINAL SPOT the dead bird started out at.  SO I DIG A SWIMMING POOL WHERE THE DEAD BIRD MORE THEN LIKELY DREW IT'S LAST BREATH AND FED MULTITUDES OF ANTS AND OTHER CARCASS EATING BUGS AND TOSSED EVERY LAST BIT INTO THE TRASH CAN!!!!

.............................LIKE A BOSS!!!!!!!.........................

oh yea . . . at about 4pm the teenagers yelled "MMMOOOOMMM THE DOG JUST POOPED IN THE HALLWAY"!!!!!

PITIFUL POOCH

Perfect Pup was her usual perky/stare at your food while you eat, ornery/stealing all the socks and hiding them under my bed, overly energetic/throwing her toys to herself, then catching them, happy/dancing in front of you as you try to get to the phone/bathroom/refrigerator, obnoxious self on Saturday but Sunday she sniffed her food, pooped once then puked for three days.

Two needle sticks for fluids, three shots and 3 butt prods, (not by me - I leave butt prodding to the professionals) a couple of Kleenexes (something in my eye) and two hours later; Vet-1 says Perfect Pup is a VERY sick girl, sends us home to no food or water and an appointment for noon tomorrow (I admit I snuck a snack or 2 and had a lil nip). 

                 PITIFUL POOCH  :(

Next Day:  Vet-Nurse warns Vet-2, as she is about to give needle stick number 6, to protect her ears.  Vet-2 gets a sudden jolt of recognition on her face and asks "were you at the other end of the hall yesterday?".  She remembered Perfect Pup's excellent vocal resonance and glass shattering ability from the other end of the building!  It occurs to me Vet-1 has the day off because she is deaf and needs to recover some of those ear hairs that fall over when an air horn aimed at your collar bone, goes off.  But Perfect Pup is feeling much better and doesn't much resemble Feeble Pup from yesterday and is slightly more hydrated due to the 2 pouches of fluid from 24 hours before and a bunch of antibiotics (the butt prodding had no noticeable affect).  She lets go only one shrill blast of her wind instrument as the needle comes out.  I pick her up and she snuggles into my shoulder then milks it for all it's worth with pitiful little whimpers.  As a reward she gets to have 1/4 cup of water followed by another one in half and hour.  If all goes well she can try some rice and rinsed burger at 5pm.  

7pm:  Success!!!
Perfect Pup is ever so slightly obnoxious as she stares down every cheese cracker that goes from the box to the mouth of the annoyed Teenage Girl who sits on MY COUCH! to eat CRUMBLY ORANGE! snacks (but that's another story).   

ONCE BITTEN TWICE SHY BABE

Not really bit.  STUNG by a honeybee!  OUCHY.  Intense, burny, owee, jump in the pool PAIN!  And I'm a big-girl who has gone through childbirth, without meds and everything, but that shizz hurt!  So I jumped in the pool.  Luckily there WAS a pool right there for me to jump into otherwise I would have probably cried bawl-baby tears.  Seriously I don't whimp-out very often but damn, that pool was in the right place at the right time, thank you baby Jesus.

Honeybee flew right up my shorts (long shorts or this would be an entirely different story as in x-rated because I wouldn't hesitate to rip them suckers off to get at that perv bee).  Bee dead, me in pool, teenagers spared bleeding eyes from seeing my tush, pain slowly subsides to a tolerable degree to drive myself and the teens home.  After awhile I decided I needed some sympathy so I showed aforementioned teens my boo-boo.  Upon realizing they are indeed compassionate young humans, I couldn't help smiling to myself and thinking "awe, they get that from me"; they went grocery shopping and fixed dinner :D  I just went on to bed, got cold, then hot, then cold again and tossed and turned all night.

That's my right leg inner thigh.  I think my daughter took this picture, pretty sure my left leg is doing a lame burlesque kick right on the front porch (sorry, man on the bicycle) just so she could get a good enough angle.  This picture doesn't really show the extent of the swelling and redness, or the heat and pain of course but it does give you an idea of what made me decide that Benadryl was my friend.  Slept the better part of two days, think I had a fever, most def had some strange dreams.  Better now and the kids are back to their normally rebellious, "what's for dinner?", eye rolling, selves.  And I still want bees in my garden but NOT in my pants, thank-you very much!

Blonde Beauty

I WANT THIS (or one exactly like it).  Ebay seller jwb213 listed it as a Heywood Wakefield Kohinoor Desk Vanity.  It would work for either a desk or vanity.  I would use it as a vanity though.  Lately my desk has been my lap.  I'm sure I would primp a whole lot more if I could sit at this beautiful piece of furniture.  Where would you put it and what would you use it for?

Puppy Training

That's what I'm going to call my morning walk.  I've been waiting for the mood to strike me to just get up and go for a walk, and well, this morning it finally did.  I have been vowing for weeks that when the weather breaks, I will go walk.  Well, today doesn't really qualify at 90 degrees at 8am.  However I couldn't will myself to just sit in the cool air conditioned house again this morning like I have been every other morning.  

I grabbed the leash and my phone, opened the car door and off we went.  The pup, Ellie, was in the back seat chewing a big green cup to bits when I hooked her up to the leash at the park.  Where do you put your cell phone and your keys when you walk?  I didn't have any pockets in my stretchy yoga pants, the ones that have yet to touch a yoga mat, and the keys are a jingly handful that chew and scratch my phone screen every time they connect.  Idea: I strung the keys onto the leash next to her collar.  Uh NOPE.  Puppy freaked!  

So with the keys in one hand, I wrapped the leash around them to keep the clanging down to a minimum and with the cell phone in my right hand off we went on the walking track in the 90+ still-morning air.  We were alone except for one man in a head band singing and bouncing his way around in circles and the Park & Rec crew of two on their morning watering effort to keep the grass somewhat greenish.  The grass is more like crunchy corn flakes before milk at this point and where they are watering - after milk, soggy/crunchy cornflakes.  Sad.  On the plus side, I haven't had to mow for a month now.  In fact I heard that some guy was mowing his field and the mower blade struck a rock causing a spark that started a fire.  Good enough for me, not mowing!

Els thought it was a race.  She was like a wild animal running then stopping abruptly to sniff and then running again zig zag changing direction in mid sniff to circle the other way.  A bundle of energy.  She did not grasp  the concept of walking alongside her master in a forward pattern on my left side only.  I was very thankful that there were only 3 people that might be witnessing a small white dog tangle me up with her blue leash while I stumbled like a klutz, giggled like I was tipsy and almost fell on my face twice, like a passing out drunk, bam.  It was fun!  NOT!!  I got hot right away and then worried that she was going to end up from here on out, barking like a 3 pack-a-day smoker, from a) me giving her such a short leash and b) her straining to be at the end of it for three quarters of a mile.  

FINALLY, when both of us were tired of the struggle and I thought about giving up, she calmed down.  The last bit of the trail she was walking beside me like a trusted companion.  She was matching my pace and keeping good distance.  I was so proud when Mr. Headband Singer bopped by and said "he's a well behaved little guy".  She was sitting and staying just like a pro.  When we were back to our starting point I was tempted to take another lap but decided to not to and finish on this positive note.

I'm not really sure who got the bigger lesson today, Ellie, in how to take a walk, or me, how to just get out and do it.  Whatever.  I just like this feeling and I hope I remember to wear pants with a pocket next time.  Oh and take a ball to throw around BEFORE the walk to wear her down a bit.  Hey, maybe this is really "people training".        

     

     

Fifty Shades of Grey

Fifty Shades of Grey is so hot right now!   

Critics and talk shows are buzzing about it, T-shirts and sweat pants are quoting it, on Pinterest they are pinning it and Tweeters are hashtagging it.  There are websites for daydreaming, speculating and voting, who will play the characters in the movie.  I just loaned my copy of the first book in the series to my oldest daughter, who three weeks ago wasn't interested in reading it, but now has decided to see what all the hype is about.

 I haven't gotten around to buying the second and third books yet.  I will.  But this time I will get them on my Kindle.  I admit I was a little very self-conscious about whipping the book out to read anywhere public (at the park) or even semi-public (in my car).  Heck, I was self-conscious in my own bedroom.  I don't mind acknowledging that I have read the first book and I don't hesitate talking about it, I just don't want anyone watching me read them for the same reason I don't play poker, either.

Before reading this book, I couldn't tell you how many times I bit my lip and rolled my eyes in a week, I have teenagers, it's a knee jerk reflex.  Now suddenly, surrounded by my fellow Walmart shoppers, I'm acutely aware that I may have just given the guy with the tousled hair, twitchy palms right there in the checkout line, all because I rolled my eyes at him when we realize the person ahead of us has way too many items for the 20 item fast lane we are in.  At Walgreens, I couldn't decide which hair color would really cover the grey, I mean gray (I get confused now).  So I read the labels biting my lip a little because that helps when I squint to read that small print they put on the side of the box of hair color.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw a guy with "his pants doing that hanging from the hips thing" staring at me.  I watched him as he headed straight for the condoms.  "My inner goddess is doing the merengue with some salsa moves", all the while "my subconscious purses her lips and mouths the word 'ho', 'I ignore her."

I find myself noticing the wrinkles in a man's necktie, he has copper in his hair and he just caught me checking him out.  So I "flush crimson":  It's probably a hot flash but I want to believe it's my innocence leaking out a little at a time, leaving me a darker shade of grey.

Laters baby

An Evening In Old Hollywood Prom NIght

"An Evening in Old Hollywood"

Prom Night

SQUARE TOILET

This is a vintage toilet that is currently in use at a friends house.  I ran to get my camera the moment I laid eyes on it's squareness.  She promised to let me have it if they decide to move.  I've been looking through real estate guides for them ever since ;)

Your First Blog Will Most Likely Suck

I googled "first blog ideas" just now.  The search result that jumped out at me right away was "Your first blog will most likely suck".

Nice.

With that in mind  . . . I had a dream last night (what? did your eyes just do a roll?  hey, this IS my first blog) anyway I was flying, yes flying, not an uncommon dream, I know.  I've had this dream before and it always starts out like this: I'm jumping on a fairly springy surface that looks like the black tumble mats from my childhood gymnastics class (happy memory).  All at once I become airborne and take off flying and it's so cool because the vantage point is awesome and I feel so powerful and uber-graceful.  I'm floating and diving and swirling and spinning like air ballet all the while picking up speed in direct relation to the joy with which I feel.  Herein lies the problem.  I don't know how to land.  I'm flying without a protective anything at breakneck speed over pointy trees and sharp towers and concrete, gravely roads.

I try a few Sister (you know from The Flying Nun) Bertrille moves ducking my head, chin-to-neck.  It's working.  I'm going down alright, however, I haven't slowed down.  Is this that tragic ending that happens when you are dreaming that you die . .  so . . . you die?

But wait,  I didn't die.  I woke up.  I must have woken up because I'm here now pounding out my first sucky blog.  So how did I land without crunching up my bones and smearing my spare tire and back fat all over the ground???  Dunno.  But I will probably soar again if that black spongy mat appears in another dream.  And until it's time to come down to earth I will feel marvelous kind of like drinking wine with friends that make me laugh and forget how much I've swallowed until it's time to get up in the morning and go to work.  I'm gonna do it again.  And again.  If I get the chance.