10,000 Views!!!

Not really.
I am at 9,999 views.
BUT.....
If you are reading this then.........I have achieved 10,000 views!!!
Granted at least 300 are mine....but the rest are you guys, my lovely readers!!!!!!
I can't begin to thank you enough!!!
THANK-YOU!!!!!!!!
Hmmmmmm..... Not enough....
THANK-YOU!!!!!! THANK-YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THANK-YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I CAN wonder why you all would give up 3 minutes of your valuable time to read my posts, but I can NOT express in mere words how grateful I am for you sharing your 3 minutes with me!!!!!
There are a lot of exclamation points in this post!!!!
This is so exciting!!!!

Thanks for being here again and again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Macy's Can't Have All The Parades...

Here in the South we are always ready for a celebration.
So when a parade needs some more floats to make the festivities last a bit longer
then we are up for the challenge.
Here are a few of the participants:


Mud is always a fabulous addition to the holiday lights.


A Christmas sticker properly placed makes any ride festive.


Who can forget the adornment of the traditional Christmas bear on the hood?

But before you roll you eyes and mutter judgement under your breath, maybe consider the following:
Recall if you will that humans thought it would be a good idea if a reindeer had lights.
That's illuminated wildlife people but we all think it's adorable.
We put lights and ornaments on fledgling lumber and display it in our windows like a trophy.
Sometimes our homes are also decorated and blinking with blasting syncopated music that aliens can only assume is some sort of intergalactic signal.
We love it and oooo and ahhhh.
A couple dozen decorated vehicles are what we got going on over here and it was marvelous.
There were of course, other real floats and Santa Claus as well as the Marching Band with a loud drum line that the grand baby thought was awesome.

Lights and decorations are important to humans and apparently we will put them on
anything because we are afraid of the dark and celebrate!

That is why we stood for
81 minutes,
outside,
in the freezing cold,
in the dark and
were happy to do it.

Merry Christmas!
And decorate like everyone is watching!

Thank-you for being here.

Looking for...not this!

Pictured below is the yearly result of having 2 (sometimes 6) dogs, one grandchild, 4 children, 2 busy adults, no maid and one large heavy barely moveable leather sofa in the house and you are now desperate to find one of your good spoons used on Thanksgiving that the grandchild thought was a great toy until it wasn't so he dropped it somewhere and no one can find it.


Dog and family secret lost and found.
Unedited for your viewing revulsion amusement!

17 balls.
6 dog chew toys.
1 child's book.
1 book cover.
1 Winnie the Pooh.
1 giant rubber band.
1/2 of an Easter egg.
1 beaver tail. Not real.
1 plastic cup.
1 plastic muffin papers holder.
1 part of a solar light.
4 grandchild toy parts.
1 squeaker.
1 expensive looking electronic part.
Some crumbs.
Several dust balls.

What's under your sofa?

Thank-you for being here.

First level of hell...Check ✓

There are some people who speculate that there are multiple levels of hell.
I have heard some folks say there are 7 levels and some folks claim 9.
But the hell I'm talking about today involves dogs, so that would be 49 or 54 levels of hell.
Which is way too many to think about.
I could not imagine it...until today.
When I survived the first level of hell.
Well at least a level of complete madness that happens to dog owners when the dogs in question act like their brains have been removed and replaced with bubbles.
---- ---- ---- ----
My daughter is at my house with her 2 very devoted dogs while she recovers from her adult tonsillectomy.
Even with a female family bloodline of very high pain tolerance she says her pain on day 6 is a 6 out of 10.
So I'm guessing that for the rest of the world it would be a 'kill me now, I'm begging you' out of 10 on the pain scale.
Very sad.
She is dealing with tonsil hell, but that's another story....
Any way to give her a break and a quiet house for a little bit, I decide to take her 2 dogs and my 2 dogs for a walk at the family cabin where they can run and play with abandon.....sans leashes.
Hahaha!
It is to laugh.
No leashes?
The no leash rule must only apply to dogs that actually use their brain.
Well my dogs immediately jump out of the car and head down the steep hill towards the creek.
My daughters dogs do the same.
Yay!
Every one is happy and ready to walk the trail.
Until.....
Dog #1 gets to the creek edge where the bridge used to be and stares at the rest of us who have excitedly crossed the cold, wet water and are staring back at her because...well, the bridge was gone and we weighed the other options.
After a delay of what seems like biblical proportions and numerous attempts to coax her to the other side, dog #1 decides her option is to turn around and prance back up the hill, the way she came.
Are you kidding me?
She was the most excited to go!
Well I can't let her go up the hill and be by herself because she also chases cars.
So I cross the creek again and climb the hill to go get demon dog #1.
The 3 other dogs follow me.
I get to the car and because she has no leash, I have to chase her around the car until I can catch and stop her by flattening her on the ground and quickly picking her up.
My eye starts to twitch a little...
She is small but heavy as a bag of rocks.
Yay, here we go again!
Got the dog under my arm and all 5 of us head down the hill to the creek.
Half way down, I realize that dog #2 is not with us.
So I call her.
She is usually much more obedient and most likely busy doing doggy things, so we all keep going and cross the creek again and wait for dog #2.
Nothing.
Call by name.
Nothing.
Call.
Nothing.
Whistle.
Nothing.
Dadgum it!
Why didn't I bring leashes so I could make them come with me and have a fabulous time like I'm having?
My upper lip starts to quiver.
Thinking that dog #1 will not possibly cross the creek, I leave her with my 2 dogs and I start back up the hill to the car to get demon dog #2.
Half way UP the hill there are 3 dogs following me.
Seriously?
Get to the top and grab dog #2.
I explain to dog #2 how this activity works.
She wags her tail, she gets it.
Ok...lets try this again.
I cannot carry both dog #1 and dog #2 to ease my fear of repeating this hike, because I have a walking stick in one hand due to the treacherousness of this crazy terrain that I thought would be fun.
Putting dog #2 on the ground and picking up for a second time, the now wet bag of rocks dog #1 under my arm, the 3 remaining dogs stay right beside me because they know I am now angry.
I am grumbling at them through my teeth, wheezing like a bear and stomping like a dinosaur down the hill.
We all finally cross the creek after 5 trips up and/or down the now seemingly gigantic mountain of a hill and they all start wagging their tails, sniffing everything in sight and sprinting in happy dog circle runs like they thought of this grand adventure all on their own.
No dogs...this was MY idea, but you turned it into a nightmare.
We take a short walk down the trail and I decide to go back to the car.
My soggy feet are cold and my fuse is short and even though I love all of them, they will not have too much fun today.
There you have it.
Stubborn, do whatever they want, leashless, bubble head dogs plus about 800 miles of mountain climbing and creek walking is my first level of hell survival story today.
This all occurred after I took care of a sick, sneezy, busy, stubborn, do whatever he wants 20 month old grand baby for hours and hours.
I'm going to bed.

Thanks for being here.


Left to Right, Dog#2 and Dog #1
Don't make eye contact.
They are searching for souls...

Just kidding.
They're looking for snacks...and bubbles.

Getting Stuff Done...Or Not....

Taking care of a grandbaby is a lot of tiring work.
Don't get me wrong.
Every minute is fun and full... of all kinds of things...but some provide a visual I don't want to go into here.
Even with every minute being full, nothing gets done.
Nothing.
Well not really.
Nothing gets done around here on a regular basis, but especially nothing gets done when my fabulous Jeplen is here.

Jeplen is taking a 'The Incredibles" movie break from our exhausting morning of getting nothing done.
I love that the head of Edna Mode can be seen in the mirror.
Love her.
Where was I?
Oh yes.
Feeding, playing, reading to, changing, tickling, snuggling with and chasing after Jeplen for hours leaves no time for straightening up anything.
Which takes it's toll on the state of the house...which was already mostly stirred up when he got here.
Have I mentioned my housekeeping skills before?
They are virtually nonexistent
I try.
I truly do.
But I'm kind of a rebel and of the mind that a clean house is a sign of a wasted life.
In my opinion.
Which is what this blog is about.
My life and my opinion.
Wait don't click out....
Sometimes I can be interesting.....
Anyway...
So things get stacked on top of other things.
Very stacked when Jeplen is here.
Things must be kept away from the toddler or they will be chewed on, broken, shared with a dog or simply disappear.
There is no time to put things in their proper place.
He was here yesterday.
For example:

Kitchen Counter
Stuff stacked from one counter to this one after I cleared off the other counter.


Stacked Stove.
Now there is no guilt about not cooking!

Don't judge me.
Nevermind...go right ahead.
I'm too tired to worry about it.
Besides, I'll just stack the judgment on the counter with the other stuff.

Thanks for being here.

P.S. Here is what things look like after he leaves so you won't judge me quite so harshly.

Blurry kitchen counter.
Because I was squinting.
My glasses got lost somewhere.

Found them.


Cleaned off the stove.
Dang it.
Time for dinner.

See you soon!

Exercise Smeckzercise

I'm no Doctor, I just play one on my blog.
So I advise myself as I grow older that planned exercise should be less and less of a priority with each passing day.
No not really.
I advise myself to exercise a lot and keep moving, but who listens to their doctor?
Not me.
Phyllis Diller inspired me with her quote: “My idea of exercise is a good brisk sit.”
I totally agree with her.
But it seems that mother nature has taken my jumping jackless attitude to heart and coerced my body into involuntarily moving.
With......
A weak bladder.
Not just the sneezing, laughing too hard, jumping on the trampoline kind of weak bladder either.
I have the get up in the middle of the night 8-10 times kind.
My routine burns calories by getting up and out and back into again a bed that is 12 inches higher off the ground than most beds.
I also work my abdominals by tossing and turning from side to side trying to delay, ignore or at least get comfortable for one stinking minute, each and every time the call of nature shrieks in the night.
I can really work up a sweat in 6-8 hours.
And nightgowns are the only clothing needed for this work-out.
During the day I can go for extended periods of time and not even give my bladder a passing thought...no problem, but once I grab a blanket and pillow and try to relax, then some of my organs think it's time to get busy and stop relaxing.
I could blame having children and sometimes I do.
I could blame aging and sometimes I do.
I could not blame anything and stop being a cry baby.
It's life.
It's involuntary exercise and that's better than no exercise at all.
So Mother Nature wins.
She thinks exercise is important and is going to see that my training gets done no matter what time of day or night it is.
She is a demanding coach who can't be ignored.
I have acquired some new skills as a result of her guidance too.
Getting around quietly in the dark has become a breeze, delayed gratification is practiced most nights and keeping fit with my many porcelain throne squats has given me thighs that any Spartan would be proud to have.
So there it is my friends.
Exercise comes in the strangest ways.
It's no triathlon or exercise competition, but every workout starts with a step.
Step out of the bed.
Hit the floor.
Turn right.
5 steps.
Turn right again.
9 steps.
Watch out for the dresser.
Turn left.
4 steps.
Turn left again.
2 steps.
Goal achieved.
Repeat 8 times nightly or as needed.
Doctors orders.

Thanks for being here.


After a Successful Night Workout.

Just kidding.
I have long hair.

The Night Time is the Bright Time.

Being a grandmother gives me the opportunity to take care of my grandson a couple days a week.
This involves getting up before most of the world and driving in the dark.
Which here in the mountains involves darkness that is v e r y dark.
Except when I'm behind a school bus.
Don't know what they have in your area, but we have buses that have a white strobe light on the roof that is bright enough to send a signal Mars.
I can only assume that it is to prevent other vehicles from crashing into kids or the bus itself.
Makes sense.
But only a little, because it is a freaking blinking nightmare that makes me drive all angry and squinty eyed while trying not to have a brain spasm as the intermittent flash penetrates every cell in my body.
I thought bright blinking things were banned as a result of the 1997 Pokemon anime that gave children seizures.
Not banned in this part of the world apparently.
Well now school buses aren't the only ones with these death-ray laser strobes.
This morning I was behind an emergency vehicle for 5 eternally long miles and it had not 1 but 5, count 'em, 5 blinking lights flashing in my newly awakened face.
Let me tell you gentle readers that all I could think of was "Don't crash", "Don't crash", "Look at the road", "You can do this".
Well that's not all I could think of, but my 'don't swear in public' rule, is pretty imbedded in my psyche and I don't want to burden you with my potty mouth.
Are folks driving and behaving so well that emergency vehicles are out for late night/early morning drives trying to drum up business?
No, that can't be the reason for the 'Lights of Craziness'.
I have known several EMT's and firemen and they really are a caring bunch.
Do that many people mistake emergency vehicles for just a regular vehicle and therefore they can crash it if necessary?
Dadgumm.
What is the world coming to.
The end of the five mile stretch was now in sight and the strobing vehicle was turning left and I was going right.
Just in the nick of time too, my brain was starting to melt and my will to live wanted to drive off the side of the mountain.
So I look over to see if it was an ambulance or a fire truck.....
It was a garbage truck!?!?!?!
A what?
Yes a garbage truck.
For One thing...How can the workers see the garbage when it is pitch black outside.
For Two things...Garbage will still be there when the sun comes up. Most of my garbage is pretty stationary.
For Three things...We are now protecting our garbage?
Garbage collectors deserve many more accolades and dollars than they actually get and my family appreciates their work immensely, but I was almost turned into a veritable mental basket case driving down the road while trash was being protected in a strobing vehicle of immeasurable lumens.
I'm all about protecting our kids and folks in the service sector but is 'Pokemon Shock Syndrome' the way to go?
Do people really not see the other 14 red and yellow lights placed all over the back of these working vehicles.
Maybe it's just me.
Maybe nobody talks about this interstellar vehicle signaling, brain disrupting, cartoon inspired system because after a certain sequence of blinks your memory is wiped of everything that happened for the last hour.
I'm just guessing.

Thanks for being here.


Psychotic Alien Inspired Warning Technology

Slow Down Time but Shorten Your Life Expectancy.

If you are reading this and you want to know how to slow down time down a bit
then just sit outside...near the woods...in the dark...by yourself...watching for meteors to fly by.
Each minute is long and terrifying.
It's like watching the movie Alien for the first time.
You know that the main character(the Alien) is gonna suddenly appear at any second but you can't turn away or close your eyes because if you do then there was no point in paying money to endure the torture.
Meteor showers are free but it is still the same type of torture and suffering, when you have to be alone in the darkness.
The sounds occurring in the dark night are unnerving but you endure them because the main character(the meteors) could appear at any second and if you go in the house then what was the point of getting up so early.
Maybe I like space because Earth has things that are creepy, crawly and curious but I can't escape from them or even move because I'm tangled up in a freaking blanket that is wrapped around my feet making it impossible to make a fast getaway when and if an alien animal ventured out of the woods and scared the bejeebus out of me.
There is something attractive about space though that makes me endure this life sucking, nighttime, outdoor fear, possibly because the universe doesn't make menacing noises that could make a person soil herself.
So I wait.
Trying to be an adult.
Searching the skies for the next piece of burning space debris to fly by my little treeless viewing hole that lets me connect to the great beyond.
And I wait.
Noise.
Just a branch falling?
Noise.
Was that closer?
If I look around or turn on my flashlight then I might miss a shooting star because I will look away from space and blind myself.
Be very still and if it is a bear and I don't move then maybe he'll go right past me.
Two noises?
Should I go in the house?
Maybe this is the wrong day?
I have to go the bathroom.
Where are all these meteors they were talking about?
I've been out here forever.
Let me check my phone.
It's been 3 minutes.
What?
I can't see.
OK. Eyes in focus again.
Hey, There goes one!
Not too big, but I'll take it.
Waiting.
There goes a satellite!
This is awesome!
I'll wait another little bit.
Noise.
Dadgum, what was that.
Noise.
Bug in my face.
Noise.
Please God, can't I be invisible when I need to be.
Ooooo. There's another meteor!
Excitement makes me brave and I wait some more.
YES! There is another one.
Noise.
That was too close.
Ok. That's enough.
Go in the house and make coffee.
I'm alive!
I saw 3 meteors and a satellite!
I gave up my sleep and body warmth but it was worth it!

It's been 15, maybe 20 total minutes.

Sheesh

Thanks for being here.

The next show is the Leonid Meteor Shower.
Peak time is November 17-18th
No aliens please.


The woods near me has some terrifying wildlife.

A List to Add to Your Lists.

I was thinking about my next birthday and the fact that I will be almost, kinda, truly very old.
So during my long journey I have learned a few things that I wish someone had told me long ago that I wanted to share with younger folks, who I've also learned don't listen to the wisdom of the elderly any way...so my thoughts make perfect blogging material.
This list (and you know I always have a list) was written in the middle of the night and seemed fabulous at the time.
Plus I was typing on my phone with the display/brightness turned all the way down so my husband would not wake up and derail my train of thought and then wake up the dogs with his sleepy voice questions and then the whole point of laying quietly in bed is moot.
Here is a copy of my mostly unedited list of things I've learned....so far.

-Be nice to people. It's hard sometimes, but if you're a jerk to a jerk, it magnifies the jerkiness of everyone's day and everything in your orbit.
-Invest in the best mattress you can afford. Life is hard and at the end of a sucky day your bed should be your best friend and always there for you to come home to.
-Linens too.
-Invest in the best bra you can afford. You wear it every single dadgum day so don't skrimp and be uncomfortable or droopy.
-Eat the best food you can buy or cook. Food is a pleasure and a joy. No guilt.
-Don't live in the past and that means your memory is a memory. Thank goodness for photos.
-Don't take anything personally and that means anything. Most people: 1) like the sound of their own voice, 2) are parroting something they've heard or 3) they're just mean. If they're just mean it means that they hate themselves already so you don't have to waste your time hating them too or worrying yourself about their idiotic comments.
-Don't believe everything you hear, see or read. If your gut tells you it's questionable then it probably is.
-Which leads to.....
-Question everything. Yes it drives some people crazy, but it was a short drive for them anyway. People don't wanna think things through anymore so question every single gosh darn thing until it makes sense.
-Except chocolate. Just enjoy chocolate because life is short.

Thank-you for being here.



The best hot chocolate in the world.
It will make you feel young again!
It's that good.
Paul's French Cafe in London

I Can't Seem to Catch Up!

I can't seem to catch up.
Every little task seems like 7 big projects.
When I can't catch up then I can't seem to write because my mind is full of 10 million things I have crazily deemed more important than posting on my blog.
The gray matter goes into hurricane mode and not one idea will come into focus, bubble to the surface or even fly by in a wind gust.
I have been busy traveling, so playing catch up at home has consumed my thoughts, my naps and all available scrap paper for making lists.
I can't seem to think of or remember a blog idea long enough to get at the computer or find a piece of paper AND a pen to write on that paper because my house looks like a hurricane went through it and I have to practically machete my way across any given room to then begin the process of documenting information in any way, so a blog idea has to be filed away mentally in the 'where have I heard that before' file that is usually cryptic and rarely recallable.
(That sentence was so long that I need GPS to get back to the beginning. Sheesh.)
If I do get one thing done it leads to 15 other mind numbing things that now need done as a result of the first thing and all 16 things are probably already listed on another list that I can't locate.
I think my brain fried as I tried to prepare for all the traveling I did because I am NOT a good traveler.
I stress.
I stress about leaving.
I stress about forgetting to bring something.
I stress about something I might forget to unplug.
I stress about crashing.
I stress about my pillow and loosing my glasses.
Let me sum up my stress and how I am before a trip with this reference from the What About Bob movie (which you need to put on your list of things to do because it is fab-u-lous!):

Bob Wiley: Well, I get dizzy spells, nausea, cold sweats, hot sweats, fever blisters, difficulty breathing, difficulty swallowing, blurred vision, involuntary trembling, dead hands, numb lips, fingernail sensitivity, pelvic discomfort.
Dr. Leo Marvin: So the real question is, what is the crisis Bob? What is it you're truly afraid of?
Bob Wiley: What if my heart stops beating? What if I'm looking for a bathroom, I can't find it, and... my bladder explodes?

That kind of stuff.

The endless stress has taken a toll on my brain cells by killing them outright or making them non-functional.
So I am trying to unwind, de-stress and get back into 'stay at home' mode.
I want to blog and write and compose a few thoughts, but my brain won't let me.
Neither will my lists.
So what is this post?
This post is me and my blogging self telling my brain, "You're not the boss of me!"
'Maybe you can catch up on everything before your next travel excursion', my brain tells me.
Hahahahahahaha!!
Good one!
Silly brain.

Thanks for being here.


This is me right now.

Nature Happens.

Going outside everyday like I do affords some extraordinary viewing of nature on many occasions.
Most of the time though 'nature' smells my predatory human stink and stays hidden till all of me and my personal 'un-dangerous' danger is past.
I am a looker/watcher/"sorry, I didn't see you there" outdoor lover, but nature is not taking any chances.
Mostly.
Recently I came across a curious looking cavern in the creek bed.


Curious Looking Cavern in the Creek Bed.

I got the bright idea to stick my hand in the creek hole to find out if it was a current created crevice or a critter created crevice (say either one of those illiterations 3 times fast), but it was unusually deep (about 6 inches) and headed up stream so I knew it was not a creation of the current.
Realizing how stupid it was to stick a body part in an unknown and hidden mother nature hole, not to mention the pervy overtones, I decided that locating a stick might be a better idea.
But in the fashion of Jane Goodall, I changed my stick poking mind and chose to patiently watch and see if something might show itself while searching around to see what nightmare was messing with this particular creek hole.
Being down stream and unable to sense my now barely breathing presence, sure enough, a single, thin, red antennae comes flicking it's way out of its recently disturbed home.
Then another antennae appears.
Sure enough, after his cautious feelers falsely give him the all clear, the fearless tiny river lobster shows himself and his mighty pinchers to see whatever the heidi-ho just happened to all his hard work and whether or not he had eluded being on a dinner menu.


Curious but Annoyed Crawdad.

Now you're probably thinking that this is the weirdest blog post you've seen in a while (and our burrowing crustacean would agree with you if he could read or because he thinks everything we do is weird or because it seems I know what river creatures are thinking) and you would be right, but I thought it was interesting and unusual enough to share with my nature loving readers, especially since I remembered to take a picture and not drop my phone in the water!
There you go!
Nature Happens!

Thanks for being here!

A Dull Day

Guest Post by Dr. Frank Crane.
Even if your day is dull one, this post will make you smile.
Or at least smirk for a second.

The sun may be shining when you read this, but it was a dull day when it was written.
The sky is an ugly, drab smudge. There is no sun, no rain, no wind, nothing.
Across the street is a house. It is a stupid house, full of stupid people. I know them. I wish I didn't. There are many people you are sorry to have met.
It's too close to have a fire and too cold to do without one. Is there anything hollower and drearier than a fireless fireplace?
A bird is on a tree outdoors. He is not singing. His head is all drawn down into his shoulders. He is just sitting there hating himself.
A number of people have passed by the window. They are the dullest, homeliest bunch of human creatures I ever saw. I hate them all.
A crash--the hired girl has just smashed one of our best plates, an extra fine Sunday plate with gold on it. The only reason I don't go out and give her a dressing-down is because I hate to move.
Why Move? Such a day as this you are no happier anywhere than where you are. If you must be miserable why spread it around?
Old Mrs. Grumpet has just called. She has told the missus for the nth time about her troubles. She has all the diseases she has ever heard of. As soon as she hears of a new one she goes and has it. She has more symptoms than a patient-medicine almanac. And it's all along of that blue mass she took just before Austey was born. She's a dreadful vast, steamy creature.
She has left an aroma of added wretchedness in the house. We opened the window to admit some fresh air and the flies came in. I loathe flies.
I chased them with a fly-swatter and broke an expensive vase. All vases must some day be shattered, as all men must die.
All women must die too, and all children, also all dogs, cats, horses, cows, and grizzly bears. A hundred years from now everybody and everything will be dead. There will be a new crop. After awhile they, too, will die. What's the use?
The gas-stove is out of fix this morning. So am I. So is the universe.
There is no news in the paper. Newspapers are all poor. Why read? Aren't you miserable enough as you are?
I am trying to have a vacation and enjoy myself. This morning I played a game of tennis and was beaten by a poor boob that played worse than I. Then I played two games of solitaire. Lost both.
I went to the cupboard to see----. Nothing there but grape juice.
The weather is thickening. It is going to rain. It is hours and hours till bedtime.


This post was so perfect for the day I was having and was written in 1919.
Since computers weren't around then, I can only assume his published sentiments and essays were as close to a blog as they had back then.
I loved it.
Thanks Frank.

Thank-you for being here.




Perspective Pic:

"What is this Dull Day you speak of?"

Yes, It hurts!

I am wondering how many of my readers have tattoos?
......That many?........Hmmmmmm......
And how many of you with tattoos have said to someone else, "It doesn't hurt, you should get one!"
If you have said these words or something even remotely similar, then you my lovely reader are a liar.
If I don't know you personally, then I feel bad for calling you names without giving you the benefit of the doubt.
If I do know you personally, then I just feel bad for you.
You should have listened to your mother and made wiser decisions when you picked your friends.
But if you are NOT a liar, then you have super powers with a pain tolerance that is off the scale and I am going to watch you very closely because you are not an earthling.
So many people say to me, "Oh it doesn't hurt that bad".
Well, yes... yes, it does.
It is a grit your teeth, close your eyes, scrunch your hiney up, pray to Jesus, kind of hurtiness.
Maybe it has to do with my age
I didn't get my first tattoo till I was 55.
Why did I wait so long?
-I was thinking that my skin would be older and tougher and could handle the needle?
-I was waiting for my middle daughter to grow up and be my personal tattoo artist?
-I was thinking that I had no idea what to have tattooed on my skin?
-I was waiting for tattoos to be socially acceptable?
-I was thinking that I was thinking of other things and tattoos were not one of those things?
Hhhhmmmmmmmmmm......................
I think I waited so long because I avoid pain whenever possible and I knew, despite what many people said, that it would be painful.
In case you don't know it yet, tattoos hurt like the ever loving dickens.
Lets talk about pain...........
I've had:
3 surgeries,
28 stitches,
1 broken bone,
sunburned my eyes,
yes, my eyeballs,
3 cracked ribs,
birthed 4 babies,
a cockatiel bit all the way THROUGH my pointer finger,
I pulled 55 ticks off my body in one weekend and
cut the end off my pinky finger with a kitchen knife.
I know pain!
But I also know that the listed painful events above were NOT MY CHOICE.
I HAD to endure those events because their was no other option.
I chose to be in pain for tattooing though and I actually have no regrets.

It all started out with a simple Latin phrase,

First Tattoo
Latin for 'Freaking Hurts'
Not really.
It means Time Flies
My son found it on an old Boston graveyard tombstone.

Then a dandelion was added to the Latin phrase,

Second Tattoo
Dandelion: to signify constipation remedies.
Not really.
To show how easily and literally Time Flies

Then had my earlobes done,

Third Tattoo
Star on each ear so I could use up the space on my Buddha-like earlobes.
Well that, and I now always have earrings on.

Then added swirly stuff to the Latin Phrase Dandelion tattoo,

Fourth Tattoo
Done last week.
Swirly Stuff with pearls of color to represent each of my children and my grand baby and to help frame up tattoos 1 & 2.

All my tattoos were done freehand by my fabulous daughter who makes a very good living as a tattoo artist.
For someone trying to avoid pain, it would seem that there should be zero tattoos on my person.
But my daughters art now goes with me wherever I go and that's pretty awesome......and worth the pain.
Conclusion?....
Pain is relative.
Literally.


Thanks for being here.

Technology Dress-up.

Loving technology like iDo would make it seem like iWould snap up the latest gizmo and add it to my stash of cool gadgets.
But loving money like iDo prevents me from forking over the necessary cash to own them unnecessarily.
Case in point: iHave an iPhone 4s.
You're thinking, "What a dinosaur!"
Well that is a compliment in my world, for dinosaurs are adored by me, but iKnow you say that as a gibe to keep me current and iUnderstand and acknowledge the truth in it.
So in order to stay on top of all things dinosaur techy, iRecently got the iPhone 6.

For 12 days.

That was enough.

Even though there was a restocking fee of $35 iWas willing to pay it to return this piece of technology that cost me more than my first car (used and massive=$300) and my wedding (churchy and small=$600) combined.
It wasn't that iDidn't enjoy the phone.
It was more psychological.
Along these lines....
iRemember playing with Barbies.
And yes, iAm so old that my sister and iHad some of the first Barbies ever made.
My mother or grandmother made us clothes for our Barbies (we each had only one) out of the scraps of fabric used to make outfits for us, or sometimes we used birthday money we had saved to buy a new outfit or accessory.
We could only get a new Barbie if it were a holiday where we received gifts and we had requested a Barbie because we had possibly burned all her hair off or pulled her leg out its socket, or dropped her down the sewer grate to wrestle the alligators that lived there.
After we destroyed them outgrew them, my sister and I left them behind to become adults.
We had children of our own and our girls liked Barbies too.
But guess what?
You could no longer buy seperate clothes or accessories for our childs Barbie, we had to buy a whole new Barbie.
Scuba Diver Barbie.
Paleantologist Barbie.
Chef Barbie.
Astronaut Barbie.
Ballerina Barbie.
Alligator Wrestler Barbie.
iMade that one up because iLove alligators, but you get the iDea.
iJust couldn't play that financial game and still afford food and school supplies.
Video Games did the same thing.
Music, same thing.
Movies, same thing.
Alligator Wrestling, same thing.
(Just kidding, Alligators Wrestling is still inexpensive and timeless if you live in the swamp or bayou like iDid as a kid and actually DON'T wrestle them because they will bite your face off or you're super rich and nothing is too expensive for you)
It is impossible to just upgrade and accessorize what you already have anymore.
Gotta have a whole new...Game system....Movie collection...Music Player....Alligator....whatever.
We are lured back to the cash register with a promise that "This is better, newer and cooler", even though it was only a teeny tiny bit different.
While iLove Apple products, iDidn't need this new phone.
iFell into the "Mine is old now so iGotta get a new one" trap.
But my 4s did everything the 6 did, just a wee bit slower.
The music even sounded better to me on the 4s.
So iReturned the 6, got my money back and slept like a baby that night because the night before iHad watched alligator wrestling videos till 4:00am iFelt iHad temporarily rescued myself from the hamster wheel of technology.
(Hamsters are delicious to alligators)
iHave no doubt that iWill get a new iPhone one of these days and iWill enjoy it, but for now iJust bought a new accessory (screen protector) and outfit (case) for my dinosaur old 4s and iAm happy.



My Son and Daughter Trying Scare an Alligator....the reptile is obviously terrified....



Alligator Kissy Time.
My Family loves kissing Alligators!
Alligators love kissing.....your face off!

Thanks for being here!


UPDATE:
This post was written 2 weeks ago and when iWent to get a baby gift this week, guess what I saw??!
Barbie accessories.
Now sold in stores.
Saw it with my own eyes.
iFound small blister packs consisting of a dress and shoes for $5.00.
The outfits were ugly...or at best, mostly ugly.
The only cute accessories were included with a doll for $10.00.
Alligators hate dolls..... and accessories.
iCan't seem to let this alligator thing go....
It's messing up my whole Stop Making Me Buy New Stuff Of The Same Thing All The Time point.
Sheesh.

Thanks again for being here anyway.

Thanks for Being Here.

Let me begin this post by stating: "Thanks for being here".
I mean that truly.
There are not many things I say or think more often......except maybe: "You're not the boss of me" or even the usually silent motto my brain has muttered tirelessly for over half a century :
"Life sucks, then you die".
I'm sure your thinking, "Wait a minute now, that is an acutely negative statement!".
Or maybe you're even thinking, "Dadgummit, my phone is at 3% and I don't know where I put my charger!".
Both good observations, but your house is far away so I can't help and the dog chewed the cord anyway.
In my mind, 'LSTYD' is not really that negative and doesn't seem to be too bad when on the occasion I have shared this motto with a co-worker who was about to box cut an especially irritating customer.
Or when you get charged $35.00 for a $5.27 debit that was mistakenly made on an empty bank account for the ICEE and two packs of breath mints that you didn't need right then anyway.
That kind of thing.
It seems to put some circumstances into perspective.
Or since most of the world is younger than me, this sentiment can be easily chalked up as 'old person cranky-talk'.
Truth be told, I got the "life sucks, then you die" sentiment from a friend decades ago who told me that she approaches each day with this attitude and it helps her get through life.
If the day is good then it is an extra fabulous surprise for her to celebrate and if it sucks than she just shrugs her shoulders and gets on with things, because that was what she was expecting.
Works for me and is not as depressing as "Hang in there".
Blarg.
Now that I am getting older and more philosophical, I constantly ponder how sliced cheese can stay in that thin, transparent plastic wrapper and be all cute and delicious without all kinds of messy pressed edges, lumps and cheese pieces stuck to the wrapper!
I also ponder about life and death.
Regularly.
That's kinda why I like blogging.
It is in the blogging thought process that I can see and reflect on the idea that life is pretty ridiculous.
And pretty awesome.
Even the sucky days.
The sucky days help give a needed appreciation for the good days and the kind/thoughtful people that help make each day a bit brighter.
I like the good days and the kind people and I am grateful for both.
That means I am grateful for you.
Yes, YOU.
You are awesome because you are kind enough to read my blog and that helps make sucky days good.
That is why I say "Thanks for being here" at the end of every post.
I am grateful, indebted and sincere.

Thanks for being here.



Raspberry Heart

I offer, with gratitude and affection, this handmade raspberry heart.
Made with raspberries picked from my very own garden because not many people can appreciate a heart made out of celery.
That is how much I love you...........and because fresh raspberries are delicious.
I could have used some of my red tomatoes but they were all wonky and not nearly as affectionate.

You NEED A Pinecone!

Pinecone.

For some weird reason my mother thought I needed to have this pinecone.
I asked her why and she claims it's because we don't have any this big in the mountains.
I didn't know we needed any.
It is 10 1/2 inches tall....prickly.....lopsided.......and......a pinecone.......
It was very confusing to me when my son and I arrived at her home and she said that she had saved this pinecone for me.
"I'm sure you can do something with it", she said proudly, knowing my love of crafting.
But I'm not 7 years old any more.
I immediately thought, 'firestarter' but couldn't say it out loud and just said "Ok", leaving the pinecone on the trunk of her car and moving on with other activities
We spent the next few days enjoying the visit and not thinking about the pinecone.
When the time came to leave and we were actually ready to pull out of the drive, she waves frantically at us to stop and says "Ooohhh, you forgot your pinecone!"
Dadgummitt...Yes I did....
Gotta take the pinecone.
She seemed pretty normal, healthy and stable during our visit, but the obsession over this pinecone threw my assurance of her mental state off a bit.
So being the loving daughter required by law that I am, the pinecone sits on my desk.
Next to my computer.
Creeping me out a bit.
So I made the pinecone more personable.
Sort of like Wilson in the Castaway movie


Personable Pinecone

I sent the picture to my mother and texting back she says, "I love it! I will have to do that to mine!"
She has one?
I know the tree of origin has many pinecone children but not all of them can be household decorating accessories.
Is there a karma connection or just a guilt one.
It is kind of unsettling.
So to make matters even more bizarre and disturbing, my pinecone now has outfits.


"Let's eat Mexican Food" Pinecone!"


Goth Pinecone.


Cowboy Pinecone.


Mentor Pinecone.


"I am craving Hawaiian Pizza" Tropical Pinecone.

Strangely it was a wee bit fun playing with my pinecone.
But please don't tell my mother.
Or she will send me home with a bag full of the things next time I see her.

Thanks for being here.

Now you see me.....

Went to the store today in search of a necklace.
The 'perfect' necklace was my goal, to wear with a new dress I adored and had purchased for a hotsy totsy shindig I must attend this weekend.
The torment of this post is that I am a horrible shopper.
Not only am I bad at it, I don't like it.
No, thats too mild.....I hate it!
Horrible at it and hating it are probably symptomatic of each other and might not be in this story at all if I had unlimited hours on the clock, lots of extra money to use while shopping for myself and if.....
...there were no mirrors.
Mirrors are the worst.
The only time I use them at home is to look at my hair tangles, to check my face for any wayward hairs, zits and stranded broccoli or to make sure my slip is not showing.
But to go to a store and see myself from every direction, in bright light (my house is dark...shall we say cave-like?) makes me double take in shock and look for the ropes to hold down this Macy's Day Parade balloon person I saw in the mirror.
Shopping for myself and by myself...in public...means I want something very badly or very quickly, or both, but as soon as I got a glimpse of myself in the 3 way mirror I was ready to go home.
(Well, I was ready to go home as soon as I got out of the car, but I was on a mission)
A necklace is, was and never will be enough to 'accentuate the positive'.
My mind has been playing tricks on me, convincing me that 'one more cookie won't matter'.
It apparently matters very much and I fell for it easily and repeatedly without the benefit of a giant mirror, bright lights and a positive self image.
"But hey, snap out of it!"
"No pity parties here!"
At least not enough pity or party to warrant a change of lighting, bigger mirrors and life without cookies.
I'm healthy, mostly happy, loved by some and my 80 year old mother has reminded me for years that "The older you get, the more your body does whatever the heidi-ho it wants to anyway", so I just need to embrace who I am and move on with my life.
So I will.
After all, everyday puts me one step closer to the grave where there will be no need for shopping... or mirrors.


No mirrors!

Oh, I did not find a necklace today.
I have to go out again tomorrow...................


Thanks for being here.

Swampy Alien Noises...

Do your insides ever make wierd noises?
Noises like something was taking a nap under the surface layer of some swamp muck and it just turned over to get more comfortable and made the blurping, bubbley, squishy sound that is so low frequency you're worried that your WiFi signal will be disrupted?
Or perhaps it's an alien egg that snuck it's way into my gut by way of my leftovers that became a pot of vegtable soup that was made the other day and now has fully matured and is ready to unleash it's huge mandibles on an unsuspecting, politically correct, ethnically diverse group of people!!
My 80 year old mother advises me not to worry.
"The older you get the more your body does whatever the heidi-ho it wants to do anyway".
Which is a remarkable comment coming from her because she's a worrier and she gives more money to her Doctor than to her church, and she LOVES her church and she never says heidi-ho.
I just added the heidi-ho because that is what I would say and my mother would never tell me not to worry.
Like I said she LOVES her Doctor or should I say Doctors for they are many, and would visit them if her air conditioner went out.
No, in reality she just called a repairman for that but went to the Doctor because her hot flashes were flaring up again.
I don't think she believed me when I said it was just a broken air conditioner that made her hot.
She lives in Florida for crying out loud.
It was 89 degrees in the shade...with a breeze...and a cold drink.
She is just trying not to die.
But aren't we all?
Even our gut monsters just wanna live.
They probably would prefer to live in air-conditioning.
But why do they live so noisily?
My Doctor says it's a good thing when your gut makes noises.
It means that "things are working down there".
What is working?
The swampy alien things?
My Doctor is probably just a black market swampy alien dispersal unit and instead of giving me a vaccine is really injecting swampy alien gut seeds into me and when the time is right, in a quiet moment, after I have just blamed the dog on my loud gut rumblings.......I will burp loudly......and all will be right with my world.
"Pardon me, please".
(Said with a sweet southern drawl and a demure smile)

Must be.....Swamp Gas....

Thanks for being here.

Since there really is no picture I could add to this post to help illustrate my intestinal anguish, here is a pile of adorable puppies that will never worry about swampy alien gut noises. Enjoy.


Cute, Alien Free Swamp Puppies.

Just kidding, just Alien Free Puppies.
No Swamp involved.
They were born in the Mountains.

Just Thought You Should Know...

Bought a fridge 2 years ago.
First one we have purchased in.. oh...12 years?
Refrigerators are supposed to grow old with you.
Old refrigerators help you remember where your ketchup is or if the meatloaf is still any good.
But when they quit and the 'job-well-done' eulogy is said as they are wheeled away, you are grateful that they had a long, good, working existence.
Now, apparently, according to repair-people, if you get one that lasts 5-7 years then you got a bargain.
What?
A 5 year old fridge is still learning where the best place to keep the orange juice is!
So, our 2 year old fridge quit working.
The manufacturer (Whirlpool) and the seller( Lowes) could care less.
BOTH said that this is a common problem and that Extended Warranties are their only solution.
So my take away from that response is that unless you buy a warranty, which apparently Whirlpool and Lowes NOW tells us should always be done, that 2 years is more than you should expect in the uninterrupted service of your appliance and that we were lucky to get those 2 years!
So if it's that important why is it an option and not just added to the total purchase price?
Surely on some planet this make sense...
Or does it?
We have no recourse.
We have no fridge.
We have no desire to let this go unnoticed.
Below is our letter of gratitude for the lovely attitude we received from the corporate world.

Hello Whirlpool,

Thank you so much for your simulatedly helpful response to our issue with the Whirlpool French Door Bottom Mount Refrigerator, # WRF990SLAM00.
It is so refreshing to find a company that says they build quality appliances and then they stand behind these appliances with a wonderful refusal to offer customer service.
Your ability to keep the networks of American employment open as we repeatedly wait, watch and pay for our repairman to troubleshoot the issue that originated in your factory is simply apathy at its finest.
Because lack of service and sub-par quality like yours is so rare we wanted you to know that we will tell everyone about our emotional, bank rupturing experience.
It is amazing that Whirlpool understands the consumer so well that you are able to realize that saving thousands of dollars to spend on an appliance that only lasts 2 years is the American Dream!
Two whole years…and we had dared to hope for so many more!
Thanks again for taking time out of your busy day of fabricating quality and overcharging customers to read this letter.

With Sincere and Opposite Implications,
Jeff and Sherry XXXXXXX
5-30-2015


Made a little video to show you how we feel right now.

Whirlpool Love

Blog lesson of the day:
"Extended warranties are a corporations twisted way or coercing customers into giving them permission to make inferior products."

Thanks for being here.
Just thought you should know.

Germs

I hate germs.
I'm sure they hate me too.
The germs and I each have our little battle plans and have to outsmart each other on a daily basis.
They sneakily follow me around and try to make me puke, snot or die all the time.
But I boldly try to wound them with counter attacks of Vitamin C bombs or hand washings that send them to their chlorinated, watery deaths or arieal attacks of Lysol spray.
I also avoid sick people as much as possible.
The aversion to sickly humans is not nearly as bad as it once was when my 4 children were young.
My goodness, unless you have had multiples of children you have no idea of the terror a sick person near your family can bring.
When one child got sick, then you just had to clear your schedule and just wait for the next and the next and the next and then quite possibly the parents to come down with it too.
My oldest missed 57 days of first grade because she had to catch everything that the other children had and then bring it home to share with her family.
So missing a lot of school was not a problem for the younger kids when they started to go, and our family has now built up a resistance to a myriad of germ soldiers.
All this to say that I spent way too much time dealing with germs in my life and now I hate them.
So what did I do when my sick grandson came over today?
Well there's a germ war on so I lathered him with soap and water, put new sanitized germ killing clothes on him, put a face mask on him and me and then quarantined his little self to the Pack and Play war barracks.
.....NOT !!!.....
I hugged him, held him, played with him, tickled him, shared my breakfast muffin with him, kissed his little face and head way too many times and pretended that germs don't even exist.
Who am I ?
Where had my battle plan gone?
All thought and reason went out the window when that toddling, smiling, loving, curious, babbling, adorable yet sickly Trojan Baby filled with germs came to my house.
He was feeling kinda puny and had no desire to be sanitized and disinfected.
He needed some Pookie Love and attention and there was no denying him.
Germs may not know it but Pookie Love is a powerful, purifying antiseptic in the game of germ warfare and I've got stockpiles, battalions and arsenals full of that stuff and germs that mess with my grand baby will receive no mercy.
Love that boy!
Can you tell?


Pookie's weak spot in her war against germs.


Thanks for being here.
Thanks for reading my blog!

Mother's Day Guilt.

I am a horrible daughter.
These last few days I have been trying to figure out how to get out of driving down to see my mother on Mother's Day weekend.
The problem is that I already mentioned to her that I was coming and it is a scientific fact that elderly people need things to look forward to.
I know this 'looking forward to things' thing is true because my mother told me it is and because I can't just tell her I don't want to come visit after all.
She raised me and kept me from extinction so as old as I have become I should consider myself fortunate to still have a living mother!
And I do...
But I just saw her during Spring Break when my son and I drove down for the weekend.
My son only agreed to go visiting during his Spring Break because my mother's neighborhood had free drinks and a wet t-shirt contest.
Just kidding.
We drank fresh orange juice from the trees and swam in the lake with our clothes on.
Really though, he's a good son who hardly gets to see his only living grandparent and fresh orange juice is a powerful motivator to young people.
ANYWAY, when we saw her I couldn't help thinking to myself that she is really old now and I should visit more often.
So I thought I should bugger down there for Mother's Day and enjoy my mother while I can.
I also thought to myself that it's important to visit because I haven't seen her on Mother's Day since I became a mother myself 3 decades ago.
And I haven't.
Except for last year on Mother's Day.
AND the year before that.
Criminitly!
How could I forget that?
Well:
1) I'm old now.
2) They were only considered vacation visits in my mind because my family started vacationing very close to where she lives.
3) Forget what?
So now it's gonna be 3 years in a row of Mother's Day visitation.
What a doofus I am.
So now my intent to make this big sacrifice of missing my own Mother's Day, with my 4 fabulous babies and seeing my mother as if I hadn't done that in years, is now a bust.
No sacrifice now at all, except for the gray cells that killed themselves when they found out that they were confined in a doofus head.
I'm sure there is a mass exodus of gray matter with every decision I make.
But it's too late now to change my plans.
I even got 2 new tires and an oil change so it would be a stress free weekend.
At least mechanically, because stress is like a food group to my mother.
She eats up the stress and drama of helping people live their lives according to her rules like alligators eat small dogs.
If there were calories in shaming and reproach, then my mother would be obese.
But she is actually tiny and cute and.....my mother.
She normally reserves this negative behavior for her family only.
So I have learned the cues that make her judgment avertible and try to be the best mother I can to my own children by avoiding her chosen 'mothering techniques'.
So now you know why I was trying to avoid a Mother's Day visit, but am going anyway.
I must make the trip because of the overwhelming guilt of not going to visit enough if she dies by next Mother's Day and because of the need for wet clothes and fresh orange juice.
Just kidding.
I'm bringing a bathing suit.


Lake Swimming


Fresh Orange Juice.

Thanks for being here.

And then.....

I love blogging.
When I first started, it was kind of a rant blog.
Just between me and my brain during a dark era of my life.
No published posts, just a place to vent and try to put words to the things that made no sense to me.
Like trying to sift the stars out of the darkness to see if I could bring a speck of light to my messy life.
And then....
I deleted everything.
Every word.
I knew I had to stop writing about it because it would never make sense.
It was killing me.
That dark era will forever be a shadow monster that follows me around and growls to let me know it's real, but by deleting all the verbage I spewed, I can't look it in the face and relive the fear.
And then....
I got chickens.
Dadgummitt people, if you've never had chickens, you are missing out.
They are so much fun.
They are also a lot of work and a fragile link in the Mother Nature chain and soon became the focus my next blog.
It was really the beginning of my public blogging and my posts were less than eloquent.
But I enjoyed sharing their feathery escapades and my ignorance.
And then.......
The chickens were killed.
In broad daylight.
With my 2 dogs outside in the sun, oblivious to a cunning predator lurking in their yard!
It was devastating and the end of my blogging career.
And then......
My youngest daughter tells the family she's pregnant.
I'm going to be a grandmother!
It was exciting and new!
Especially for someone who was not supposed to be able to have any kids at all.
I'm now responsible for 2 generations of new humans.
Which also means I'm much older than I care to admit.
(but it's better than the only other alternative)
I can blog about both events, seeing as how they are happening at the same time.
Grandparenting and growing older.
New Blog!
And then....
A decision was made in my brain, that, like the cartoons I watch to destress, unwind and laugh with that I should get hit by a falling anvil while chasing a roadrunner.
Just kidding, the decision was for my blog to be the cartoon of my blog kingdom.
Life with laughter.
Stories with silliness.
Maybe it's my age and the preponderance of so many things unknown and unprovable that I can't seem to take anything, or at least very little, seriously.
My blog is a verbal cartoon of my world.
My hope is that you will chuckle with me now and then as we get through this life.
As my profile says..."I know I can do it if I'm laughing".


Thanks for being here.



Watermelon Vacillation....

Books.....

Books are very important to my family.
So much so that there are only very rare occasions when someone in the family is without a book of some kind.
We read them, listen to them, talk about them, pre-order them, share them, compare the books to the movie, read them again and rarely part with the good ones.
A good book salvaged at a thrift store is a major find to us.
The lively hood of this family even centers around a book.
We all love books and want our family's new addition to share this book joy.
So this happened....


Jeplen reads with Grandpa.


Eva wants to join in on the Story Time.


Baxter arrives late but loves a good story.

There you have it.
Toooo cute.
Another peak into my strange and marvelous world.
That book was read approximately 7 or 10 times in one sitting.
You are actually reading an online quasi-book right now!
There are all kinds of books.
Heart.

Thanks for being here.

Meow-Meow and Mongo

I am pretty sure that I have mentioned my 2 loving dogs in this blog, but I never went into much detail about them.
Someday I will.
They deserve it.
But today is not that day.
Today I will be mentioning my 2 cats.
In my opinion these cats haven't really merited an entire blog post mention but thats definitely not their opinion, just mine, so please don't tell them I said that or they will bite me in the night when I try to rearrange the covers.
Don't get me wrong, they are pretty good cats and very sweet.
But they also are needy and licky and sneaky and full of wet expendable hair that apparently needs to be on display for everyone, like Fine Art for your floors.
This artwork is sometimes on display in the foyer, in the middle of the dining room... the laundry room...next to the dog dish...the computer table...the coat closet.....whoa, that's enough.
You get the idea.
I now present, in fairy tale/tail mode, a brief version of their story:

Both cats are about 4 years into their reign over the kingdom I live in.
One rules over our castle(home) and the other rules over the enchanted forest(yard) surrounding the castle.
They were both abandoned in this kingdom while under an evil spell(they were sickly) cast by nasty trolls(the previous owners) within 2 weeks of each other.
We took them in, fed and groomed them for their royal duties and then quickly took them to the Mighty Wizard(the Vet) who helped heal them of their various afflictions.
Knowing that they would now live and reside in our kingdom, we named them.
The first kitten we called Meow-Meow, which translates in this kingdom to: "she who meows a lot and loudly".
Since she was the first to arrive, she chose the castle to rule from and immediately crowned herself 'The lovely Queen Meow-Meow of the Castle'.
She performs her self appointed royal duties by daily meowing, biting, grooming, knocking items off the counter tops that do not meet her approval, snuggling, coughing up her royal hair balls, taunting the jesters(our dogs), all while taking her daily regal strolls through the mighty halls of the castle.


Queen Meow-Meow Looking Lovely for her Kingdom


Queen Meow-Meow in her favorite castle window


Queen Meow-Meow wordlessly telling her subjects to bugger off

The second cat we call Mongo.
Yes it is sad name, but she was a sad abandoned kitten.
She was left outside the castle walls at 4 weeks of age in horrible condition with eye ooze, fleas, worms and a very tiny, malnourished, royal body.
When the Mighty Wizard (the vet) and the Royal Castle Doctor/Maid (me) finally healed her, she crowned herself, 'The lovely Queen Mongo of the Enchanted Forest'.
She loves ruling her kingdom, but because Mother Nature and Queen Mongo do such a good job together, we really don't know what she does in a royal day besides just hanging out on the patio ruling all she surveys or resting on a deck railing where she can be high off the ground and warm.
She does sleep in the castle every night because the enchanted forest at night can be very scary to a tiny Queen who's Royal Guards(our dogs again as Queen Mongo sees them) also sleep inside the castle.
This queen has trust issues, so she is rarely seen by any royal subjects and never by strangers.
She developed these issues after living with those horrible trolls during her youth, so no one may approach her except the Royal Castle Doctor/Maid (me again) and Queen Meow-Meow
Some subjects even make wishes on a rare Queen Mongo sighting.


Queen Mongo looking lovely in the Spring


Queen Mongo in royal stealth mode.


Queen Mongo being regal in the garden

So those are my cats.
Their story is true.
This fairy tale made from their story is silly.
But as a servant of this kingdom, I have been assigned the duty of sharing their story.
Maybe they do deserve a blog post, the cute little, purring, fuzzballs!
Heart.

Thank-you for being here.

To See or Not to See.

When I turned 40 a kind of switch got flipped in my body that signaled my eyes to stop focusing.
It occured while I was sewing and in one day I just couldn't thread the needle any more.
I had to squint and stretch out my arms and turn on all the lights.
I had been sewing every day during that time so it was quite shocking to me!
The 'switch' was really more of a dimmer switch though, wayward human functions that altered me slowly and a little at a time, with my eyes being the first things affected.
The rest of the body however, had been put on notice for future bodily experiences only mentioned in the scary stories told around nursing home campfires on dark, moonless nights.
Understanding the need for eyewear though has been apparent to me since I was a young child.
My dear sister had several operations for her eyes when she was very, very young and from then on she needed glasses to see the world clearly.
So for her, a shocking transition would be to NOT wear glasses.
I can't begin to imagine...
But when I couldn't focus to do my sewing and was told I needed 'readers', it was shocking to me.
I needfully bought lots of cheap glasses so that every room in the house had a pair for me and then got back on with my life.
Through the years my lens magnification strength number continually went up and up and UP, until I now have become an official, over the counter, maximum strength, eyeglass wearer, with my doctors promise that the next level is a prescription, including..... dare I say it....bifocals!
Shrug....Smirk.
Sounds nuts to react with only a shrug and smirk, but this is the 21st century and the bifocals nowadays are NOT your grandfathers bifocals, so I'm good and there are not enough days left on my calendar of life to be fretting about glasses.
Besides, I don't need them yet.
I'm still reading, sewing, cooking and blogging in my OTC 'readers'.
But when I go out to eat I, mostly, don't wear them.
I use them to look at the menu but take them off to eat cause they slide down my nose and I can't see the folks across the table with them on.
So no glasses means I can't see my food either.
I could be eating delicately seasoned and shredded used paper towels with a side of leftovers from the previous patron and I'd never see it well enough to send it back...and request delicately seasoned, julienned used paper towels .


Food With Eye Glasses Off

Yet, there are times when I DO want to see what I'm eating.
It is often so beautiful and delicious looking that I must gaze at it like a work of art.
I can see the spices, the fresh herbs and the little grains of salt I just added.
The meal becomes a different kind of experience.
Its mystical and divine somehow.
Sort of a 'someone turned up the dimmer switch' event.
So I'm good with eyewear .
Anykind.
And I'm good with appreciating good cooking.
Anykind.


Food With Eye Glasses On

Thanks for being here.

P.S. It was Eggplant Parmesan and it was fabulous!

P.S.S. Remember that Twilight Zone where all the guy wanted to do was read and his wife wouldn't let him and while he was at his job at the bank he goes into the vault and falls asleep and while he's in there the end of the world happens and he's not sad, he's excited because now he can read all he wants, any time he wants, but while he's lovingly looking at books his glasses fall off and as he is looking around for them he steps on them and breaks them and now he CAN"T read anything?!? Remember that episode?!? Boy, I sure do. Glasses are important people! But you knew that.