Well, the day I never thought would happen is approaching. I've tried running from it. But apparently it has much better sneaker connections because every time I look over my shoulder, it is breathing down my neck.
As if I hadn't already enough to contend with, now I have this to look forward to. Really? Couldn't I please postpone this for just one more year. I need to prepare. By the time the sun sets on my Sunday, I will be 60 years old. I have dirt in my flower beds younger than me. It takes the combined ages of ALL my grandchildren to be older than me. I have turned the corner on Tired and Irritable Lane and found myself on Geriatric Boulevard where everything that moves is on wheels and pills.
Gone are the days that nicely built and reasonably good looking young men would follow me to tap me on the shoulder and tell me how attractive I am. Now if one is following me, chances are he's trying to steal my purse in hopes I'll have social security check inside.
No more can I look at the Tilt - A - Whirl at the fair and shriek "I wanna ride THAT!" The kiddie carousel makes me so dizzy my ears ring.
Oh and speaking of ears, I was already dealing with the whole "hearing aid" reality and now I'm wondering how long it will be before someone breaks out an old time ear trumpet for me.
Bi-focals, tri-focals, quadrafocals.......why in the heck don't they just call them what they really are OLDFOLKALS.
Each and every joint in my body decided to chime in today. I felt like you could hear them protesting with each move. Didn't you hear it? It sounded like a group of 1st year violin students running their scales. And to add insult to injury the popping of my knees made the people around me think a plane had just gone super sonic overhead.
My granddaughters think I look like Mary Kay Ash (who is dead for goodness sake!)
Please don't get me wrong, I am so thrilled to still be around but I truly don't feel ready for this next phase.
As I've looked back today I realize there are some things I would like do overs on.
I would write my granddaughters a letter every day telling them how much I love them, and giving them insight into my thoughts and my heart.
I would not overlook people who were not "in the groove" - I have learned that everyone has something to share and more importantly, something to teach.
I would laugh every single chance I got. I would not waste one second of my precious life crying about anything.
I would be more tolerant of other people's mistakes.
I would never be without a dog for even a single second.
I would ALWAYS send a card, make a phone call, hold a hand, offer a prayer, lend an ear and wipe a tear.
I would awaken every day of my life praising God for my existence and for allowing me to experience every single blessing and challenge He gave me. And, I would go to bed every night begging forgiveness for failing so miserably in every way shape and form.
I would use the words I LOVE YOU in speaking to everyone I know - and I would mean them. And, I would earnestly ask to be loved in return.
I would read my daughter's unwritten book on being a wife and mother and try to be better at each.
I would listen to my grandparent's boring stories about their lives. It would make understanding my own so much easier.
I would genuinely try to never wrong anyone, but if I did, I would "man up" - admit it - ask forgiveness and love them anyway even if they refused.
I would journal my life every day - these are the bones of a family. The foundation we build on. I would leave it to others to put flesh on those bones.
I would be happy, joyous, glad, worshipful, praise driven, honest, kind, compassionate, fearless and soft enough to expose my tenderest parts.
Happy Birthday Old Girl! You've lived a lot, loved more than most, laughed till your stomach ached, cried a river, saw a lot, heard even more and thankfully spoke about it less. You are a contradiction in terms - and I actually find you kind of interesting. Let's try to leave this orb much better for us being here.
Friday, February 26, 2010
Sunday, February 21, 2010
An Oldie But Still A Goodie!
I found this today while looking for a completely unrelated document on my computer. While it is an oldie, some points still remain valid. My apologies for the one bad word - I tried to think of a different one, but nothing carried quite as much impact. Sorry.
I've decided to analyze my own dreams. I will either learn that I am borderline crazy as a room full monkeys, or well on my way to self discovery.
My dreams have always been the product of an over active imagination. But lately, depending on the level of sleep aids I've ingested have been downright bizarre. I know that my present life condition is contributing to my technicolor, Monty Pythonesque sleep periods. I also know that my inability to deal with said life condition doesn't particularly help form a relaxing restful slumber. But hey, this is me and I've always had this personality and chances are at this advanced stage in my development, things aren't likely to change. Therefore, following is my latest pillow carnival. My analysis of the different points will be set apart by asterisks.
Anyone who knows me well knows that lately I have had trouble sleeping (as evidenced by the fact I am blogging at 11:45 at night!) Watching TV you see the lovely peaceful commercials for Ambien or my personal favorite the gentle floating butterfly effect of Lunestra. What they don't tell you in these commercials is that you need to know some personal kind of dirt on your doctor before he will take pity on you and give you these. Also, the try free for a week, etc. is a further misleading statement. What they will do is send you a coupon for the product but you still have to get your doctor's permission to try it. As far as I'm concerned they are all the supreme leaders of the different levels of hell. There isn't a doctor alive who thinks that it isn't perfectly okay for me to spend practically 2 years of my life with hardly any sleep. I have desperately sought some sort of relief....no caffeine after 5:00 in the evening. Nice warm baths with candles and wine. Reading, meditating, counting sheep, counting dogs, counting money....you name it I tried it. I have on occasion considered suffocating myself (just kidding!) Actually, I'm not kidding. Given my inability to sleep and my husband's constant coughing the chances of someone getting a mouthful of feathers increases every night.
So...I decided that I would give Tylenol PM a shot. Holy Cow! Where has this stuff been all my life? As a former debilitating migraine sufferer, I have practically rendered myself impervious to medication but this stuff is "THE BOMB." Literally, light's out...... in fact, I usually feel quite lucky(?) to wake up the next morning.
I can take it, turn on the TV and the next thing I know it's morning, my mouth is dry as the desert (which probably means I've snored like a logger all night long.) I've thought about trying to do something about this problem too but given the aforementioned hubalump coughing I feel it is my only defense.
But, just as no good deed goes unpunished...neither does any good remedy.
The dreams are WILD and so vivid that I literally can remember them in perfect detail the next day. I've shared a few of these flights of fancy with a few of my family and friends who I'm pretty sure now have Harbor View on speed dial just in case. Note to family: Harbor View no longer frightens me, I totally rock group therapy.
But the one I had the other night was quite possibly the most interesting one I've ever had. Brace yourselves readers this is going to take some time.
It all began with the little Edwards girls who for some reason were in need of me dressing them for school. In putting their socks on I realized their socks were purple. ***Analysis: Direct reference to my inability to fix anything that is wrong, broken or otherwise being a pain in the butt***
Being the snappy dresser I am I knew they couldn't wear purple socks with their school uniforms so I was very concerned. At this point, their mother appeared and reassured me that all I had to do was turn them inside out. So I did and sure enough they weren't purple on the other side. However, they were brown. ***Analysis: See previous paragraph***
So...I decide to buy them more socks. ***Analysis: Can you spell control freak***
Apparently the only store in dreamland was an outdoor outfitters store. Yep, log cabin decor, trophy animals the whole nine yards. ***Analysis: Has to stem from the fact that for a solid week I dealt with the cable company telling me they were not the ones to fix my internet problem. The phone company telling me they were not the ones to fix my phone problem. And the computer repair store telling me they were not the ones to fix my computer problem***
At this point Genevieve and Audrey are no longer involved in this dream and thank heaven for that. ***Analysis: God is mighty and merciful and spared my granddaughters from having to participate further in my madness***
Working in the store is an extremely well built young man wearing spandex biker shorts. Watch it...I know what you are thinking..but I hate spandex biker shorts with a passion. Now, here's the really interesting part. His spandex shorts are completely transparent in the posterior area. ***Analysis: This has to be a direct result of the fact that I think that some men (not all) are basically asses, either by showing them or acting like them***
Yikes! I was just wrapping my mind around his unseemly attire when a stagecoach, cowboys, Indians, trick riders on horses and a zoo wagon starting circling around inside the building. ***Analysis: My life is just one bearded fat lady away from being a complete circus. Sidenote: Perhaps I should have said dog faced boy since my body style can handle the fat lady part and my hormones (or lack of) is accomplishing the rest.)***
I hope you are laughing at this point because I am splitting my pjs myself right now. Mercifully the dream ended somewhere during the circus acts but when I woke up boy was I confused! So I guess the Tylenol PM is going to have a short lived run.....darn it. Although, I could just continue to take it and continue to regale my loyal followers with my dreams. I have to run now, I think I hear the little men with the white coats knocking on the door. :)
I've decided to analyze my own dreams. I will either learn that I am borderline crazy as a room full monkeys, or well on my way to self discovery.
My dreams have always been the product of an over active imagination. But lately, depending on the level of sleep aids I've ingested have been downright bizarre. I know that my present life condition is contributing to my technicolor, Monty Pythonesque sleep periods. I also know that my inability to deal with said life condition doesn't particularly help form a relaxing restful slumber. But hey, this is me and I've always had this personality and chances are at this advanced stage in my development, things aren't likely to change. Therefore, following is my latest pillow carnival. My analysis of the different points will be set apart by asterisks.
Anyone who knows me well knows that lately I have had trouble sleeping (as evidenced by the fact I am blogging at 11:45 at night!) Watching TV you see the lovely peaceful commercials for Ambien or my personal favorite the gentle floating butterfly effect of Lunestra. What they don't tell you in these commercials is that you need to know some personal kind of dirt on your doctor before he will take pity on you and give you these. Also, the try free for a week, etc. is a further misleading statement. What they will do is send you a coupon for the product but you still have to get your doctor's permission to try it. As far as I'm concerned they are all the supreme leaders of the different levels of hell. There isn't a doctor alive who thinks that it isn't perfectly okay for me to spend practically 2 years of my life with hardly any sleep. I have desperately sought some sort of relief....no caffeine after 5:00 in the evening. Nice warm baths with candles and wine. Reading, meditating, counting sheep, counting dogs, counting money....you name it I tried it. I have on occasion considered suffocating myself (just kidding!) Actually, I'm not kidding. Given my inability to sleep and my husband's constant coughing the chances of someone getting a mouthful of feathers increases every night.
So...I decided that I would give Tylenol PM a shot. Holy Cow! Where has this stuff been all my life? As a former debilitating migraine sufferer, I have practically rendered myself impervious to medication but this stuff is "THE BOMB." Literally, light's out...... in fact, I usually feel quite lucky(?) to wake up the next morning.
I can take it, turn on the TV and the next thing I know it's morning, my mouth is dry as the desert (which probably means I've snored like a logger all night long.) I've thought about trying to do something about this problem too but given the aforementioned hubalump coughing I feel it is my only defense.
But, just as no good deed goes unpunished...neither does any good remedy.
The dreams are WILD and so vivid that I literally can remember them in perfect detail the next day. I've shared a few of these flights of fancy with a few of my family and friends who I'm pretty sure now have Harbor View on speed dial just in case. Note to family: Harbor View no longer frightens me, I totally rock group therapy.
But the one I had the other night was quite possibly the most interesting one I've ever had. Brace yourselves readers this is going to take some time.
It all began with the little Edwards girls who for some reason were in need of me dressing them for school. In putting their socks on I realized their socks were purple. ***Analysis: Direct reference to my inability to fix anything that is wrong, broken or otherwise being a pain in the butt***
Being the snappy dresser I am I knew they couldn't wear purple socks with their school uniforms so I was very concerned. At this point, their mother appeared and reassured me that all I had to do was turn them inside out. So I did and sure enough they weren't purple on the other side. However, they were brown. ***Analysis: See previous paragraph***
So...I decide to buy them more socks. ***Analysis: Can you spell control freak***
Apparently the only store in dreamland was an outdoor outfitters store. Yep, log cabin decor, trophy animals the whole nine yards. ***Analysis: Has to stem from the fact that for a solid week I dealt with the cable company telling me they were not the ones to fix my internet problem. The phone company telling me they were not the ones to fix my phone problem. And the computer repair store telling me they were not the ones to fix my computer problem***
At this point Genevieve and Audrey are no longer involved in this dream and thank heaven for that. ***Analysis: God is mighty and merciful and spared my granddaughters from having to participate further in my madness***
Working in the store is an extremely well built young man wearing spandex biker shorts. Watch it...I know what you are thinking..but I hate spandex biker shorts with a passion. Now, here's the really interesting part. His spandex shorts are completely transparent in the posterior area. ***Analysis: This has to be a direct result of the fact that I think that some men (not all) are basically asses, either by showing them or acting like them***
Yikes! I was just wrapping my mind around his unseemly attire when a stagecoach, cowboys, Indians, trick riders on horses and a zoo wagon starting circling around inside the building. ***Analysis: My life is just one bearded fat lady away from being a complete circus. Sidenote: Perhaps I should have said dog faced boy since my body style can handle the fat lady part and my hormones (or lack of) is accomplishing the rest.)***
I hope you are laughing at this point because I am splitting my pjs myself right now. Mercifully the dream ended somewhere during the circus acts but when I woke up boy was I confused! So I guess the Tylenol PM is going to have a short lived run.....darn it. Although, I could just continue to take it and continue to regale my loyal followers with my dreams. I have to run now, I think I hear the little men with the white coats knocking on the door. :)
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Everybody Polka!
Yesterday, Roger and I celebrated 17 years of wedded mess (er...I mean bliss.) Actually our life together has been nothing short of chaotic. We have been on top of the mountain and to the bottom of the abyss in those 17 years. **Ahem...I have to confess that I sure enjoy the view from the mountaintop a whole lot more.** But, I just know that being down means we have to tie on our hiking shoes, take a lot of Ibuprofen and start climbing.
Since we are not blessed with an overabundance of cash at present, we were very fortunate to be in possession of a gift card to a local German restaurant. Now of all the ethnic foods out there, German is my least favorite. But, having someone else pay for the lion's portion of my anniversary dinner.....I'm totally on board with that.
I managed to wrestle Roger into attire other than T shirt and jeans, I put on my best bib and tucker and off we went. Heck, we were even on time! **For us, that is huge. If your last name is Beshears chances are your picture is beside the word TARDY in the dictionary**
I really wish I would have been able to capture the moment when we entered the restaurant and heard Polka music. Roger is not big on "entertaining" dinners. He loves the "show" at Japanese steakhouses and to make it better they don't sing. Karaoke is in his opinion the 9th level of hell (and I have to say I pretty much agree with him on this one.) And in all of our 17 years together I've never known him to willingly seek out a Polka Band. He will sit and have a beer and listen to live entertainment **that expression has always puzzled me - live entertainment....as opposed to dead entertainment?** But I digress.
Polka was a'playin' as we entered and lucky us...they seated us right in front of the stage! This was a husband and wife team, she was wearing Pippi Longstockings tights with Mary Jane shoes and a plaid skirt and sweater combo. Her hair had been sprayed the most unusual shade of red and her hubs was also suitably attired. The woman played the accordion (which I've always been fascinated with - they look very complicated to play) and the husband played what Roger kept referring to as a Flueglehorn? The husband would occasionally sing and when I inquired of my husband who has traveled more extensively than I, if that was the way German's sang, was informed that no, that was Louie Armstrong that sang like that. The "band" had 2 preschool age children that spent the evening running through the restaurant laughing and screaming at the top of their lungs until time for them to perform as well. I have to confess that I thought those 2 little vunder kinder doing The Chicken Dance was very charming. They did it well as opposed to when they were supposed to Polka. The Polka caused them to have obvious artistic differences in their delivery. Umm, can you smell the romance in our evening?
Our prime spot right in front made it impossible to avoid the Polka Band. Since we could be seen, applause was necessary after each number and they engaged us in conversation which I assume was part of their act. In short, they would not be ignored. We did not come prepared to tip the Polka People so I had to enter into some serious negotiations with our charming ex-New Yorker waiter to come up with a cash appreciation for their entertainment. Upon tipping, we were instructed to please take one of their postcards. I picked one up, expecting to see info on their band. Instead, I found only a website referenced. www.polkayoureyeout.com hmmmmmm......after Roger and I tried to make this say everything we finally tumbled to the fact that it said Polka Your Eye Out. Honestly, I only had 3 teensy little glasses of wine.
In spite of everything, we had a great time.
I'm sure you are waiting to know what the point to this Blog post is. Well, here you go. What did Polka Night teach me? It taught me that all it takes to enjoy something is to let yourself be open to it. There were at least 3 big negatives about the night that could have ruined an evening, but instead turned it into a great fun evening for both of us. It is all about your attitude. If you decide something is going to be crappy, chances are the stench will be overwhelming. But, if you decide to just let yourself go, give yourself over, join in the craziness, you will find out that joy has jumped on the wagon with you. While we may never choose that particular event again, for now....Everybody POLKA!
Since we are not blessed with an overabundance of cash at present, we were very fortunate to be in possession of a gift card to a local German restaurant. Now of all the ethnic foods out there, German is my least favorite. But, having someone else pay for the lion's portion of my anniversary dinner.....I'm totally on board with that.
I managed to wrestle Roger into attire other than T shirt and jeans, I put on my best bib and tucker and off we went. Heck, we were even on time! **For us, that is huge. If your last name is Beshears chances are your picture is beside the word TARDY in the dictionary**
I really wish I would have been able to capture the moment when we entered the restaurant and heard Polka music. Roger is not big on "entertaining" dinners. He loves the "show" at Japanese steakhouses and to make it better they don't sing. Karaoke is in his opinion the 9th level of hell (and I have to say I pretty much agree with him on this one.) And in all of our 17 years together I've never known him to willingly seek out a Polka Band. He will sit and have a beer and listen to live entertainment **that expression has always puzzled me - live entertainment....as opposed to dead entertainment?** But I digress.
Polka was a'playin' as we entered and lucky us...they seated us right in front of the stage! This was a husband and wife team, she was wearing Pippi Longstockings tights with Mary Jane shoes and a plaid skirt and sweater combo. Her hair had been sprayed the most unusual shade of red and her hubs was also suitably attired. The woman played the accordion (which I've always been fascinated with - they look very complicated to play) and the husband played what Roger kept referring to as a Flueglehorn? The husband would occasionally sing and when I inquired of my husband who has traveled more extensively than I, if that was the way German's sang, was informed that no, that was Louie Armstrong that sang like that. The "band" had 2 preschool age children that spent the evening running through the restaurant laughing and screaming at the top of their lungs until time for them to perform as well. I have to confess that I thought those 2 little vunder kinder doing The Chicken Dance was very charming. They did it well as opposed to when they were supposed to Polka. The Polka caused them to have obvious artistic differences in their delivery. Umm, can you smell the romance in our evening?
Our prime spot right in front made it impossible to avoid the Polka Band. Since we could be seen, applause was necessary after each number and they engaged us in conversation which I assume was part of their act. In short, they would not be ignored. We did not come prepared to tip the Polka People so I had to enter into some serious negotiations with our charming ex-New Yorker waiter to come up with a cash appreciation for their entertainment. Upon tipping, we were instructed to please take one of their postcards. I picked one up, expecting to see info on their band. Instead, I found only a website referenced. www.polkayoureyeout.com hmmmmmm......after Roger and I tried to make this say everything we finally tumbled to the fact that it said Polka Your Eye Out. Honestly, I only had 3 teensy little glasses of wine.
In spite of everything, we had a great time.
I'm sure you are waiting to know what the point to this Blog post is. Well, here you go. What did Polka Night teach me? It taught me that all it takes to enjoy something is to let yourself be open to it. There were at least 3 big negatives about the night that could have ruined an evening, but instead turned it into a great fun evening for both of us. It is all about your attitude. If you decide something is going to be crappy, chances are the stench will be overwhelming. But, if you decide to just let yourself go, give yourself over, join in the craziness, you will find out that joy has jumped on the wagon with you. While we may never choose that particular event again, for now....Everybody POLKA!
Friday, February 19, 2010
Who Is On Your Pedestal?
Today I watched as Tiger Woods did his formal apology to all those people he has hurt with his actions. I sure don't approve of what Tiger did, but he is a human being after all. And like the rest of us, he suffers the same temptations, challenges and problems. Just because a person has a bazillion dollars doesn't immunize them from the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.
All in all, I'm pretty tired of Tiger and all "famous" people whose problems get played out in front of the world for all to see. Aren't we lucky that WE are invisible humans and get to "hide" our stuff in our own lives where few see and even fewer know. Somehow that makes us feel better about ourselves.
However, as I was watching and listening to Tiger talk, I started thinking about his position. We hold celebrities up to the light of scrutiny after we have placed them on a teetering pedestal of human frailty. I too, thought the Woodster was a "do-right" kind of guy. I've even said "Wow, what must it be like to be him?" Well, I dare say no one is terribly envious of him now.
As a kid, I looked up to my teachers. Some like Rita Chisum, George Snider, Mary Dalton, Elaine Elliott, & Louise Pierce taught me so much about the kind of person I wanted to be. Some simply were genuinely good people, some taught me about honesty and fair play, others brought the love of literature, theater and music into my life.
I looked up to people in authority. People like H. Wilbanks who tried with everything in him to have a good and decent place for us to grow up and yet he was able to keep that connection with the kids that made us try not to disappoint and feel crappy when we did.
I confess to admiring people who have found the one person in life that fits the bill and has had the intelligence and talent to stay with them.
I look up to my little bitty daughter who is a human dynamo. Her ability to multi-task and make good decisions is astounding. She also has the strength to let you lean on her less than 100 pound body when you are too tired to stand on your own. Her skill as a wife and a mother are amazing and I am in awe.
I admire my husband for his honesty, humility, tolerance, kindness, wittiness and intelligence and long suffering endurance (he is married to me after all.)
Many many people in my life have touched me and given me those awestruck moments of hero worship. But, I would be wrong to put any of them on a pedestal. They are all human and therefore prone to fall. Hopefully, I would be around to throw myself under them when they fell, wrap my arms around them and tell them it was okay. Hopefully, I wouldn't ask any of them to strip themselves bare emotionally for falling.
In my opinion, there was only One Who could stand on a pedestal and be worthy of such a position. How interesting that He didn't want to be on the pedestal, what he chose was a lowly cross with a couple of flawed humans.
Be careful who you place on your pedestal because while you are looking up at them you might miss the quiet voice whispering in your ear. He will not stand above you but He will walk beside you, comfort and sustain you and give you immeasurable peace.
So, today, I would like for us all to think about Who is on our pedestal. Who do we hold up as our example of how to live, how to treat others, how to forgive and most of all, how to endure?
All in all, I'm pretty tired of Tiger and all "famous" people whose problems get played out in front of the world for all to see. Aren't we lucky that WE are invisible humans and get to "hide" our stuff in our own lives where few see and even fewer know. Somehow that makes us feel better about ourselves.
However, as I was watching and listening to Tiger talk, I started thinking about his position. We hold celebrities up to the light of scrutiny after we have placed them on a teetering pedestal of human frailty. I too, thought the Woodster was a "do-right" kind of guy. I've even said "Wow, what must it be like to be him?" Well, I dare say no one is terribly envious of him now.
As a kid, I looked up to my teachers. Some like Rita Chisum, George Snider, Mary Dalton, Elaine Elliott, & Louise Pierce taught me so much about the kind of person I wanted to be. Some simply were genuinely good people, some taught me about honesty and fair play, others brought the love of literature, theater and music into my life.
I looked up to people in authority. People like H. Wilbanks who tried with everything in him to have a good and decent place for us to grow up and yet he was able to keep that connection with the kids that made us try not to disappoint and feel crappy when we did.
I confess to admiring people who have found the one person in life that fits the bill and has had the intelligence and talent to stay with them.
I look up to my little bitty daughter who is a human dynamo. Her ability to multi-task and make good decisions is astounding. She also has the strength to let you lean on her less than 100 pound body when you are too tired to stand on your own. Her skill as a wife and a mother are amazing and I am in awe.
I admire my husband for his honesty, humility, tolerance, kindness, wittiness and intelligence and long suffering endurance (he is married to me after all.)
Many many people in my life have touched me and given me those awestruck moments of hero worship. But, I would be wrong to put any of them on a pedestal. They are all human and therefore prone to fall. Hopefully, I would be around to throw myself under them when they fell, wrap my arms around them and tell them it was okay. Hopefully, I wouldn't ask any of them to strip themselves bare emotionally for falling.
In my opinion, there was only One Who could stand on a pedestal and be worthy of such a position. How interesting that He didn't want to be on the pedestal, what he chose was a lowly cross with a couple of flawed humans.
Be careful who you place on your pedestal because while you are looking up at them you might miss the quiet voice whispering in your ear. He will not stand above you but He will walk beside you, comfort and sustain you and give you immeasurable peace.
So, today, I would like for us all to think about Who is on our pedestal. Who do we hold up as our example of how to live, how to treat others, how to forgive and most of all, how to endure?
Thursday, February 18, 2010
So How'd Ya Get Your Big Old Butt Up There On The Fence Anyhow?
Excerpt from "The Dog Chronicles" - Chapter 7
Veronica’s final flight could have possibly been the best. And, after all the months of rescuing, chasing and worrying, I finally had a witness to my plight. At long last my husband was home. Roger was in the house in his office and unknown to me, my daughter was also about to arrive.
I was actually in the yard when Veronica went sailing over. It was miraculous to behold – one moment she was just a dog enjoying the freedom of her backyard – the next she was experiencing the miracle of flight. I watched her put her nose in the air and I truly think at that moment I witnessed her brain flipping the switch to “off.” She backed up about 12 feet from the fence, made a running dash and catapulted herself toward it. She jumped high enough that her front legs hung over the top of the fence and she scrabbled with her back feet until she achieved enough purchase on the boards to push herself over.
My blood literally went from just coursing through my hardening arteries to the point of boiling and pulsating until I thought my head would explode. I went in the house in search of my husband, explained to him that the “damn” dog had taken a powder AGAIN!
Contrary to what you think you have been able to discern about my personality and character by now, patience is NOT my strong suit. I am enough like my mother to have the “I want it done and I want it done NOW” chromosome. When I have reached a personal crisis point, any delay will only serve to make me want to annihilate not only the source of my problem but anyone who is not responding with my same level of urgency. In short, failure to help me when I request it will put your life in mortal peril. Or mine as this case proved to be.
My darling husband is the “great procrastinator.” He subscribes to the “why do today that which you can put off until tomorrow” credo. Therefore, he failed to come running when summoned and that was the first step in my ultimate undoing.
When I did not see any help forthcoming, the pounding in my head became so severe that I literally saw red. I’m sure anyone watching would have been able to observe my brain shutting down just as Veronica’s had a few minutes earlier.
Stalking to the shed, muttering every expletive known to modern man plus a few that I made up by combining several foul words, I was a woman on a collision course with destiny.
I threw the tools of my fence scaling trade against the fence and began my ascent. I don’t exactly know what went wrong. It was the same problem, the same fence, same ladder and lawn chair and I was certainly the same highly agitated person. Everything was the same except my ability to conquer the situation.
I was able to mount the fence but that was the end of my journey. Somehow once I had one leg on one side of the fence and one on the other, I was hopelessly stuck. There I was, lying on my stomach on top of the fence unable to go anywhere. I didn’t even have the ability to simply go limp and fall off the fence. I’m sure I presented a pretty picture, something akin to a beached whale impaled on a harpoon. Kaylee tells me that I spent a lot of time twitching and trying to fling my leg or legs up onto or over the fence. I'm not sure, by the time she gets to this point in the story she becomes quite incoherent and I don't completely understand her.
Under the roaring in my already deaf ears, I could hear my daughter shouting for my husband. And she must have been really worried because there was an underlying note of real urgency in her voice. Upon further examination, I came to realize what I mistook for compassionate panic was actually her rather feeble attempt to control hysterical, gut wrenching, tear jerking laughter.
Suddenly, my rescuer arrived! It is interesting to me that a person can be amused, worried and genuinely mad as can be all at the same time, but Roger was all these things and more. Somehow he managed to get my fat butt down off the fence without injuring himself but not without a solid scolding about my reckless behavior. I was counseled severely about my lack of patience and need to “do everything myself and right now.” Hello……earth to Roger…had you come when called, none of this would have happened. To add insult to injury, he also managed to retrieve the dog without significant incident and restored order to the animal kingdom in the yard.
Men have this ingrained sense of being the superior sex, more capable at problem solving and just general chest beating testosterone machismo. And now, I had unwittingly contributed to this particular man’s ego. After all, it was a female dog that started the ball rolling and HIS female that rolled it smack into a brick all, or a privacy fence in this case. I think his head grew 2 sizes that day.
It did not help that by the next day my inner thighs were bruised from where they connected to my torso all the way to my knees. This colorful reminder of my day of infamy did nothing to make my husband contrite over his failure to timely respond to my need. In fact, each time those bruises were visible, he had such a self satisfied smirk on his face that I wanted to slap him silly and lock him in the closet.
And then there is my darling daughter who continues to this day to bemoan the fact that she had not had a video camera available. She was and still is convinced she could have been the big winner on America’s Funniest Videos. And the fact that she would have profited from my misfortune would not have bothered her in the slightest. I get NO respect and probably wouldn’t have gotten part of the money either. But hey, it is enough for me to know that I am a constant source of amusement to those I love!
Next Installment: Where, oh where, has my little dog gone?
Veronica’s final flight could have possibly been the best. And, after all the months of rescuing, chasing and worrying, I finally had a witness to my plight. At long last my husband was home. Roger was in the house in his office and unknown to me, my daughter was also about to arrive.
I was actually in the yard when Veronica went sailing over. It was miraculous to behold – one moment she was just a dog enjoying the freedom of her backyard – the next she was experiencing the miracle of flight. I watched her put her nose in the air and I truly think at that moment I witnessed her brain flipping the switch to “off.” She backed up about 12 feet from the fence, made a running dash and catapulted herself toward it. She jumped high enough that her front legs hung over the top of the fence and she scrabbled with her back feet until she achieved enough purchase on the boards to push herself over.
My blood literally went from just coursing through my hardening arteries to the point of boiling and pulsating until I thought my head would explode. I went in the house in search of my husband, explained to him that the “damn” dog had taken a powder AGAIN!
Contrary to what you think you have been able to discern about my personality and character by now, patience is NOT my strong suit. I am enough like my mother to have the “I want it done and I want it done NOW” chromosome. When I have reached a personal crisis point, any delay will only serve to make me want to annihilate not only the source of my problem but anyone who is not responding with my same level of urgency. In short, failure to help me when I request it will put your life in mortal peril. Or mine as this case proved to be.
My darling husband is the “great procrastinator.” He subscribes to the “why do today that which you can put off until tomorrow” credo. Therefore, he failed to come running when summoned and that was the first step in my ultimate undoing.
When I did not see any help forthcoming, the pounding in my head became so severe that I literally saw red. I’m sure anyone watching would have been able to observe my brain shutting down just as Veronica’s had a few minutes earlier.
Stalking to the shed, muttering every expletive known to modern man plus a few that I made up by combining several foul words, I was a woman on a collision course with destiny.
I threw the tools of my fence scaling trade against the fence and began my ascent. I don’t exactly know what went wrong. It was the same problem, the same fence, same ladder and lawn chair and I was certainly the same highly agitated person. Everything was the same except my ability to conquer the situation.
I was able to mount the fence but that was the end of my journey. Somehow once I had one leg on one side of the fence and one on the other, I was hopelessly stuck. There I was, lying on my stomach on top of the fence unable to go anywhere. I didn’t even have the ability to simply go limp and fall off the fence. I’m sure I presented a pretty picture, something akin to a beached whale impaled on a harpoon. Kaylee tells me that I spent a lot of time twitching and trying to fling my leg or legs up onto or over the fence. I'm not sure, by the time she gets to this point in the story she becomes quite incoherent and I don't completely understand her.
Under the roaring in my already deaf ears, I could hear my daughter shouting for my husband. And she must have been really worried because there was an underlying note of real urgency in her voice. Upon further examination, I came to realize what I mistook for compassionate panic was actually her rather feeble attempt to control hysterical, gut wrenching, tear jerking laughter.
Suddenly, my rescuer arrived! It is interesting to me that a person can be amused, worried and genuinely mad as can be all at the same time, but Roger was all these things and more. Somehow he managed to get my fat butt down off the fence without injuring himself but not without a solid scolding about my reckless behavior. I was counseled severely about my lack of patience and need to “do everything myself and right now.” Hello……earth to Roger…had you come when called, none of this would have happened. To add insult to injury, he also managed to retrieve the dog without significant incident and restored order to the animal kingdom in the yard.
Men have this ingrained sense of being the superior sex, more capable at problem solving and just general chest beating testosterone machismo. And now, I had unwittingly contributed to this particular man’s ego. After all, it was a female dog that started the ball rolling and HIS female that rolled it smack into a brick all, or a privacy fence in this case. I think his head grew 2 sizes that day.
It did not help that by the next day my inner thighs were bruised from where they connected to my torso all the way to my knees. This colorful reminder of my day of infamy did nothing to make my husband contrite over his failure to timely respond to my need. In fact, each time those bruises were visible, he had such a self satisfied smirk on his face that I wanted to slap him silly and lock him in the closet.
And then there is my darling daughter who continues to this day to bemoan the fact that she had not had a video camera available. She was and still is convinced she could have been the big winner on America’s Funniest Videos. And the fact that she would have profited from my misfortune would not have bothered her in the slightest. I get NO respect and probably wouldn’t have gotten part of the money either. But hey, it is enough for me to know that I am a constant source of amusement to those I love!
Next Installment: Where, oh where, has my little dog gone?
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Let Me Hear You Bark Like A Dog - or Stupid Hurts
You will never be able to say that I will not make fun of myself. Part of the reason for that is sometimes I crack myself up. I think I can be really funny at times and at other times I'm so stupid it's funny.
I stuck my toe in the water today and mentioned an incident that happened a while ago and several of you have private messaged me and wanted the skinny on the story so I shall write and publish for you all. Mostly because I always feel that it is a good thing to provide a public service announcement when you can. So read on.
I've mentioned loads of times that there was a prolonged period when my husband lived and worked in Kansas City. Most of the time he came home briefly on weekends but there were times when it just didn't work out for us. It was usually during his absence that all things crappy in nature chose to happen around the house. If you have read "The Dog Chronicles" you know that Vaulting Veronica would usually pull her disappearing act while Roger was away. Leaving me to climb fences and search neighborhoods to retrieve her. But that story belongs to a different day.
I am absolutely a rabid animal lover. I can't stand the thought of someone neglecting or hurting an animal. In fact, there are people who think I need some form of intervention concerning my treatment of my dogs. I firmly believe that the more like a person you treat them, the more like a person they become. And I have proof of this in Jessie the Wonder Dog (RIP) so no arguments please.
That being said, one of our rescue dogs, Betty was and is a terrible barker. Most of her problem stems from the fact that she is absolutely terrified of all humans but Roger and I. So if there are other people in our house, she barks. If there are other people next door, she barks. The squirrel in the tree makes her bark. Thunder in North Dakota makes her bark. If she hears a mouse fart on the next street....well, you get the picture.
Her barking was contagious. She would start, then Veronica would join in and finally poor old Max would be unable to contain himself and would add his voice to the chorus. They were driving me crazy and I was scared to death that I was going to be cited by the city for disturbing the peace.
So.......I decided to try the bark collar on them hoping to bring their incessant barking under control. I bought one of those that only transmit when the dog barks, strapped it on Betty, she barked, jumped about 2 feet off the ground, flew sideways and shut up! YAY!!!! I left the collar on her for a couple of days and then removed it. She would be good for a while but eventually would need another lesson in vocal control.
One extremely boring weekend when I was home alone I decided to change the battery in the bark collar because it no longer having the desired effect.
As I unscrewed the little compartment that housed the battery, the unit beeped. Hmmmmm, maybe the battery wasn't dead after all. Now I've already told you that I am often too stupid to function and I'm sure you know where this story is headed. I'm standing in my kitchen with this bark collar in my hand and it occurs to me "How do I know that these even work?" "What if it really hurts the dog?" The literature says it is 100% HUMANE, but............is it really? No one is here for me to talk to about this enigma so scientifically I owe it to myself and my dogs to learn the true nature of this instrument.
The box on the collar has 2 small metal points about an inch and a quarter apart. Confidently, I pressed those two small points to my throat and vocalized my best imitation of a big dog bark.
My vocal cords seized completely up, tears ran both down my cheeks and my legs, and I could swear I felt my heart stop and restart. People, I have never had anything hurt so bad in my life - it was a genuine pity that I didn't have a nice thick coat of fur to somewhat diminish the sensation because right on bare skin was the equivalent of dropping your hair dryer in the tub with you.
Those things may be HUMANE - but apparently not for the individuals who make up the root of that word.
When my vision cleared and I could speak again, I called my husband and told him what I had done. He must have been really busy because he immediately got this strangled sound and said "Let me call you back."
I think it may have taken him some time to recover his composure which was lost from laughing so hard.because it took a bit for him to call me back.
Well, it didn't take long for that story to get around the family and then one Thanksgiving they all had to get the collar out and try it for themselves. They passed that collar from person to person, each one barking in turn and being AMAZED that it hurt like hell. My daughter (ever cautious) was having difficulty making a good bark and kept saying "I don't feel anything." It was at that point one of her brothers leaned over and gave a hearty WOOF - she felt it.
I sure wish I could have had a video camera that night with everyone sitting around barking............I would be fabuloso wealthy now and could send my dogs for anti-bark therapy.
And now for your public service announcement: Children don't try this at home....that dog (collar) will bite you....
I stuck my toe in the water today and mentioned an incident that happened a while ago and several of you have private messaged me and wanted the skinny on the story so I shall write and publish for you all. Mostly because I always feel that it is a good thing to provide a public service announcement when you can. So read on.
I've mentioned loads of times that there was a prolonged period when my husband lived and worked in Kansas City. Most of the time he came home briefly on weekends but there were times when it just didn't work out for us. It was usually during his absence that all things crappy in nature chose to happen around the house. If you have read "The Dog Chronicles" you know that Vaulting Veronica would usually pull her disappearing act while Roger was away. Leaving me to climb fences and search neighborhoods to retrieve her. But that story belongs to a different day.
I am absolutely a rabid animal lover. I can't stand the thought of someone neglecting or hurting an animal. In fact, there are people who think I need some form of intervention concerning my treatment of my dogs. I firmly believe that the more like a person you treat them, the more like a person they become. And I have proof of this in Jessie the Wonder Dog (RIP) so no arguments please.
That being said, one of our rescue dogs, Betty was and is a terrible barker. Most of her problem stems from the fact that she is absolutely terrified of all humans but Roger and I. So if there are other people in our house, she barks. If there are other people next door, she barks. The squirrel in the tree makes her bark. Thunder in North Dakota makes her bark. If she hears a mouse fart on the next street....well, you get the picture.
So.......I decided to try the bark collar on them hoping to bring their incessant barking under control. I bought one of those that only transmit when the dog barks, strapped it on Betty, she barked, jumped about 2 feet off the ground, flew sideways and shut up! YAY!!!! I left the collar on her for a couple of days and then removed it. She would be good for a while but eventually would need another lesson in vocal control.
One extremely boring weekend when I was home alone I decided to change the battery in the bark collar because it no longer having the desired effect.
As I unscrewed the little compartment that housed the battery, the unit beeped. Hmmmmm, maybe the battery wasn't dead after all. Now I've already told you that I am often too stupid to function and I'm sure you know where this story is headed. I'm standing in my kitchen with this bark collar in my hand and it occurs to me "How do I know that these even work?" "What if it really hurts the dog?" The literature says it is 100% HUMANE, but............is it really? No one is here for me to talk to about this enigma so scientifically I owe it to myself and my dogs to learn the true nature of this instrument.
The box on the collar has 2 small metal points about an inch and a quarter apart. Confidently, I pressed those two small points to my throat and vocalized my best imitation of a big dog bark.
HOLY CRAP!!!!
My vocal cords seized completely up, tears ran both down my cheeks and my legs, and I could swear I felt my heart stop and restart. People, I have never had anything hurt so bad in my life - it was a genuine pity that I didn't have a nice thick coat of fur to somewhat diminish the sensation because right on bare skin was the equivalent of dropping your hair dryer in the tub with you.
Those things may be HUMANE - but apparently not for the individuals who make up the root of that word.
When my vision cleared and I could speak again, I called my husband and told him what I had done. He must have been really busy because he immediately got this strangled sound and said "Let me call you back."
I think it may have taken him some time to recover his composure which was lost from laughing so hard.because it took a bit for him to call me back.
Well, it didn't take long for that story to get around the family and then one Thanksgiving they all had to get the collar out and try it for themselves. They passed that collar from person to person, each one barking in turn and being AMAZED that it hurt like hell. My daughter (ever cautious) was having difficulty making a good bark and kept saying "I don't feel anything." It was at that point one of her brothers leaned over and gave a hearty WOOF - she felt it.
I sure wish I could have had a video camera that night with everyone sitting around barking............I would be fabuloso wealthy now and could send my dogs for anti-bark therapy.
And now for your public service announcement: Children don't try this at home....that dog (collar) will bite you....
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