Turtle Rescuer.

My parents taught me early that turtles should be rescued off of roads.
My father loved to drive.
So much so that his next older brother and he compared odometer readings and monthly mileage totals on a regular basis.
Needless to say, but I'll say it anyway, we had lots of family turtle rescue time together.
And even though I personally am not crazy about driving, I taught my children to rescue turtles too.
Turtles are not slow moving road targets and there are no points given for roadkill, so it is often neccessary to speed up the road crossing process just because.
I have even blogged about it before.
See: s l o w l y...I... g e t...i t.
Here in the country we either have LOTS of extra wildlife that don't understand traffic and death or we have a lot of heartless people who go out of the way to run over critters that wander on to or get to close to the road.
My husband once saw a truck purposefully veer over to the edge of the road to hit a puppy.
Maybe there is a tenth level of hell for people like that.
Now don't get me wrong, I have accidentally hit some wildlife that I just didn't see or just couldn't avoid due to traffic and it ruins your whole day, week, decade, life.
You think of 'it' now and again and get that same nauseous, creeped out, pale, parched feeling in your bones.
The 'what have I done' somberness takes over no matter when it happened.
Yuck.
How did I get to this dark place so quickly??

Sheesh.

Anyway...
We are Turtle Rescuers!
Happiness!
So to celebrate the ability to give a little something back to the crumbling eco-system I thought I would share a video a friend took of my son rescuing a SNAPPING turtle.
Yes, you read me correctly.
Not some cute little box turtle, a LARGE, HEAVY, GRUMPY, SNAPPY snapping turtle.
The turtle in this video might have been trying to commit suicide it was so mad, but my son would not let it become a spot in the road.
A turtle hero to some....
Please enjoy.



Not the usual turtle rescue, but a documented turtle rescue.
Such a brave, brave human.
Such a big, BIG turtle.
But a turtle of any size or kind is still a turtle.

Thanks for being here.

I thank you and turtles thank you.

P.S. For those with sensitive ears there is a human swear near the end. The turtle was most probably cussing too, like crazy highway reptiles do, but many Americans can't speak turtle so I did not feel the need to warn you of that. :)

The Book.

I am blogging about a book today.
My book!
No...Our book - I had a lot of help.


Cover photo from the Chipmunk Book by My Sister, My Daughter and ME!

It is published and available on Amazon (also in a few independent book stores).
Skillfully illustrated, Silly beyond measure and Selling like hotcakes.
Well...2 out of 3 of those things.
The book was in rough draft, ready for printing and sitting around the house for about 20 years but when I noticed the number on my last birthday I finally got the gumption and financial backing (thanks Auntie) to share it with other humans.
Publishing was complete 4 months ago.

Sooooo...I have now worked up the courage to tell you guys about it!
Well 'worked' is a bit of a stretch.
--Courage and Motivation actually provided by:
a sink full of dirty dishes that begged me to do anything else, 6 loads of laundry that screamed to be left alone and a bag full of peanut M&M's.

So if you need a chuckle from some silly illustrated jokes or feel the hankering to boost the self esteem of a fellow human, please do so by buying and sharing 1 or 2 or 40 of my delightful Chipmunk Books!!
Please know I am/will be grateful beyond measure and thank-you from the bottom of my heart and blog.

Chipmunk Book Link HERE or just click this Chiplink *

Thanks for being here!

*Chiplink is a made up word because I thought it was kinda funny at the time and because there is A LOT of sugar in peanut M&M's.
Sugar makes a whole lot of mildly humorous things hilarious!
The book is actually quite funny and no sugar was harmed or excessively consumed in the making of this book, so I am confident that you will indeed find it amusing!

Thanks again!

The camera adds...

Vacation was fabulous!
That sentence implies fun, relaxation and...pictures!
Except no.
No pictures.
Except of wildlife, other nature things, some family and of course the grand baby.


Fabulous.

The above grandbaby vacation photo is unaltered and authentic.
No flaws in the picture.
No flaws in real life.

Some people just have the gift of being photogenic.

But as the human body ages, strange things start happening.
At least in my human body.
Deep, long untanned lines appear in random places.
The cellulite population runs amok and completely spawns a new universe on the thighs and arms.
Hairs begin to grow arbitrarily and instantly in places you once thought were safe.
Cookies, from days gone by, that needed to be enjoyed right then with a cold glass of milk now reside right under the mammary glands who have both agreed to retire to the sunny southern hemisphere of the body and be neighborly with the resident cookies.
And all these badges of aging show up in bright, living, noticeable color on the vacation pictures.
Every dadgum one of them.
Every one.
Hollywood says the camera adds 10 pounds.
iPhone camera's add anywhere from 10-55 pounds.
Give or take.
Mostly give.

For example:

This is an iPhone photo of an 6lb. 11 inch long Lobster.


Just kidding.
It's a crawdad that is 3 inches long...at most... and probably weighs 1 ounce.
M a y b e an ounce and a half soaking wet.


THAT is what vacation pictures do!
Every time people!
.....and you thought I was gonna show you a real vacation picture of myself.
Haha!
You guys crack me up!
Maybe one day.
But today is not that day!
Well...
OK...
Since you guys are so good to me and keep reading my blog....




What a great vacation!

Thank-you snapchat.
Thank-you family.
Thank-you for loving each other just like we are.
Weirdness and all!!

Thanks for being here!

Well, That's Refreshing???

The outdoor temperature is so incredibly hot here.
Thank goodness fall is right around the calendar corner.
The only remedies I know of to get through hot sweaty days are air conditioning, sweet tea on ice, cold water through a straw and ICE CREAM!
Well, some ice cream.


Frog Spit?

What have I been missing all my life?
Frog Spit for one...
There are truck loads of frogs and toads, right out my front door, that sing beautifully in the evenings and eat lots of bugs, (activities that require copious amounts of saliva I am assuming) but I have never once thought of freezing and licking their spit.
The family dog licked a toads back once and started tripping (yes, in every illegal drug sense of the word), and foaming at the mouth.
It was terrifying.
So licking anything amphibian has never been on the family bucket list.

The penguin on the box also throws me off a bit.
Frogs and penguins usually aren't pals or even environmental neighbors are they?
Since penguins are known to prefer the cold, I can only surmise that the penguin was added just so I would not make the mistake of thinking Frog Spit was juice?
Ewwww.
I just imagined a front door frog drooling on my stoop and gagged myself a little.
But someone had to try the first mushroom or the first glass of milk...
So I shall boldly go where...no one I know has gone before and see if Frog Spit is palpable....
Here goes....
I'm stalling....
Wait for it...


Frog Spit Taste Test

The results are in:

Delicious!
Refreshing!
Who knew?
Not me...till just now.
Delightful!

I'm too excited about this.
It's like I discovered a new animal species or proof of life on other planets.
What a doofus.
I think the heat is getting to me.
I need to cool down with more Frog Spit...

Thanks for being here!

A Freaky Walk in the Woods.

As a follower of my blog, you are possibly aware that I sometimes like to post 'things' about nature and my participation in it.
Well today, thanks to the creativity and restlessness of nature, I would like to share one more of those 'things'.

Yesterday, my lovely daughter and I plus our 4 dogs,
(4, count them, 4 dogs who absolutely have no business being mentioned on this blog post because they spent the entire day doing random dog things, none of which was protection mode or scary growling at upcoming perils or even toothy barking because they sensed the presence of creepiness)
started out on a lovely walk in the woods...
and THEN the humans noticed this....


AAAaaaaawwwwww!!!!! Zombie Apocalypse!!!


AAaaarrrgghhh!!! Stop with the Zooming!!!


Make it Stop !!! Too Close!! Too Close!

I am in the woods every ordinary, freaking, non-zombie day and have never noticed this zombie skull of doom staring at me before.
It's eyes followed me until I turned a bend on the trail, all the while calling out the imminent death possibilities and trying to seem nonchalant about it to my daughter.
But I was obviously rattled and a bit panicked when my daughter gently calmed me by yelling telling me to, "STOP IT! Its just a rock or a piece of junk and besides, it looks more like a C3PO (Star Wars) head in the dirt than a skull or a zombie".
So now I am a nervous zombie droid hating idiot in my child's eyes as well as in the hollowed out eye sockets of the mostly dead, scary, lurking, droid, forest zombie with dinner on its mind.
I just kept walking.
Much faster walking, but no running for cover or brain preservation movement at all.
Why?
Because...?
Running would alarm the dogs?
My daughter would then know I'm an idiot?

The dogs noticed n o t h i n g !

Oh yes, I could have crossed the creek and checked it out, but why take a chance?
I had 4 self absorbed, treat munching, drool machine dogs and a lovely daughter to protect.
In my mind.
Nothing worse or more ineffectual than a startled, struggling, picture taking "cause no one will believe me", timber droid, forest zombie hater who panics and can't climb trees or run fast enough human that makes protection of anything a moot point.
I was also assuming that we were mostly safe because zombies can't cross water.
Or is that ghosts?
Or demons?
Not sure.
Don't care.
Not sleeping for a week!

I made it home and wanted to share this with you before things get ugly.
Well, uglier.
I'll let you know if I am brave enough for an update.

Thanks for being here.


BRAVE UPDATE:

Today, I got brave.
Went back to the woods to face the droid forest zombie and show him or her who's boss.

Silly me.
The forest zombie head was just a piece of junk thrown down a hill a bunch of years ago, sent to haunt me in this present day.
Stupid garbage + Stupid zombies = A sleepless 24 hours of fabulous speculation and imagination.


Zombie Garbage

Thanks again for being here.
With your intact brain...and eyeballs in your eye sockets.

“Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”
― Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

Earplugs.

Earplugs.
Ahhhh...yes.
The serenity.
The silence.
The..."WHAT?"
Just kidding.
Or am I?
Earplugs are an immersion into my very own convenient and personalized Sensory Deprivation Tank.
Mostly.
Mostly just the ONE deprived sense and no tank.
But I try to work with what I have.
As I get older the noises of this modern world have gotten very annoying and those sounds of life, including everything, have become completely irritating.
So since, in my opinion, old folks should be pampered, I have given myself permission to ignore all of the chaos.
Maybe one of the reasons that senior citizens become deaf is...
...Because they can...
It is a sweet relief.
My grandfather was deaf...most of the time.
My grandmother swears he could hear clearly when she said that the coffee was ready or the pie could be cut now or if someone knocked on the door with some fresh bait for fishing.
Selective deafness.
I totally get it.
Hence my affiniy for earplugs.
It is rapturous when you put them in and all the swirling, disturbing, bothersome sounds that you have tried to ignore through-out the day slowly disappear into silence and you close your eyes and........start thinking of the crazy person that is creeping down the hallway with a hatchet that you can't hear because you have your earplugs in.
Or maybe you're unaware of the sounds the dog is making as he shreds and totally ruins the sofa because the happy growling, thrashing and shredding noises have been blotted out and you won't notice anything amiss till you stumble over the piles of foam.
Or perhaps the fire truck siren that is silenced as it approaches your burning yard including trees and very nearly the chickens that will soon be nuggets before you get around to taking your earplugs out.
Just kidding.
Or am I?
It does take some mental preparation to get used to earplugs and the glorious isolation they provide, but after a few panic attacks and a couple of days 30 seconds you too can be relaxing and deaf, unconcerned and oblivious to every noise in the world, once those foamy little sound blockers of sanity have been put in their proper position.
Intentional deafness.
But while it is easy, this escapism is not to be taken lightly.
When my kids were small I never used them.
I had this elusive goal of being a good mother and I took very seriously the need to calm a cough or listen for muffled whispers of any rule breaking schemes, all of which I could hear from about a mile away.
My kids are old enough to take care of themselves now and most responsibilities that require hearing are handled with texting, closed captioning and the profusely overused, "What?"
So there are no guilt feelings when the earplugs go in and the world fades away.
Optional deafness.
There should be a National Earplug Day to celebrate this King of survival tools.
It is just that important.

Thanks for being here.
"Did you hear me dear?"
I said,
"THANKS FOR BEING HERE!"


Earplugs. The treasure of treasures.

Too Much Pain...

In my blog I usuually try to keep things light, upbeat and generally silly.
There is a reason and a survivalist mentality to that approach.
I am easily overwhelmed and sometimes feel as if I would rather die than bear the weight of the sorrow I feel when I hear about the wickedness and meanness that other humans render on other humans such as has been in the news the last few days.
My heart breaks and my soul withers when I read tragic news snippets that appear on my phone or computer of some person deliberately causing pain to another person.
Yet it seems that pain is the balm we repeatedly use to assuage our own pain!
Has pain, misery and death ever been the best and fastest path to resolution?
If it has, I have never heard of it.
Or seen it.
I have never heard any stories passed down through the generations about the benefits of human destruction being the enlightened pathway.
Life is hard.
I get it.
I've lived it.
I know it on a cellular level.
I also know that LOVE is the ONLY thing that helps us survive.
That helps us cope.
That heals our wounds and lets us see clearly into another day.
ONLY LOVE.
But you knew that.



Thanks for being here.

You Might Actually Like Me When I'm Angry

I have not posted anything for a while.
I think it's because I stopped being angry.
Well, stopped being quite so angry.
Well, no, I tried  to stop being quite angry.
I never was the screaming, kicking, yelling, ram your ankles with a grocery cart angry,
Just the simmering, I hate almost everything so don't even look at me, angry.
When I'm angry, stuff just blurts out.
That is actually the not so secret motivation behind this blog.
But anger also contributes to high blood pressure and the need for medicine.
Which is yucky in and of itself, so I am trying to not be so angry.

For me anger is like the frothing gadget used to make cappuccinos and it makes your anger emotion as well as most of your other emotions get fluffy and bubbly and then those expanding emotions need to squeeze out of you somehow so that there is enough room for vital organs, garlic toast and blood, making you feel compelled to write a blog post and get something, anything, out of you so that there is some space left in your body and brain to remember to brush your teeth and stay alive.

I could be wrong though.

But since I stopped being quite so angry I have found that I am now apathetic.
When I'm apathetic I don't even care if you care about what is going on in my life or what I think about stuff.
And then I don't care that I don't care if you care.
Apathy though, I am learning, is a mostly stupid attitude and accomplishes nothing but NETFLIX binges and too much garlic toast, but I also think it's contagious.
So I stay to myself.
I certainly don't want you, my beloved readers, to catch Mostly Stupid or Apathy or both! (although internet news leads me to believe that there is quite an epidemic of both going around)
Maybe someday I'll build up an immunity but it seems that anger is my cure.
Anger means that I care a little bit.
Anger means that I share my feelings (hahaha...sure it does)
Anger means that I post words on my blog.....
I must be getting better!
I'm blogging!!!

So I can now assume that anger is probably not so bad if it helps me engage with life.
But people are in my life!...
Lots of them!...
Spreading anger with ease and abundance.
"Who drank all the milk?"...
Why aren't my keys where I left them?"...
"You used ALL the garlic?"...
"I just cleaned this up!"...
"You need how much money?"...
"Where is the remote?"...
Dadgummit!
Don't make me angry, you wouldn't like.........
Wait a minute...

There is no garlic so now I have to eat this?...
Some crazy person got to this before me and destroyed the bag because...??
The delicious snack food is now stale, leaking out and falling on the floor and I haven't even started to snack!
Who does this?
Seriously?
Aarrgghhh.

Family is the best medicine for when you need anger to make you care again.

Thanks for being here.

Sell me what?

While there is no way to know for sure, I am going to assume that some of my readers, like myself, think that deciding what to wear each day is tantamount to gum surgery performed by a 3 legged coyote.
It is something you try to avoid.
It is awful.
The worst part of the morning.
Or afternoon...but we are who we are.
Santa Claus and his socially acceptable closet of one outfit is a source of envy to me.
(Not to mention his diet regime that is also enviable by me and accepted by society with no shaming by anyone for fear that he does indeed have a naughty list!)
Sigh....
...One outfit...
The bliss.
The rapture.
The joy of never having to decide...

That doesn't mean I don't like to dress up and look nice.
So occasionally I have to shop for clothes.
Yuck.
Well this week one of the places I have purchased clothing from sent out what they considered an ad that would tempt me to willingly save money
wear only one outfit open my wallet.
Instead, this ad left me baffled and bewildered, with a WHAAAAA?? expression as I perused it.
The company caters to curvy girls and I could not believe my eyes.
The 10 page ad looked like someone lost a bet during a drinking game or was making us aware that there are actually no other clothes left in America.

See what you think:


Well, this outfit is a surprise.



The fact that there was a consensus that this outfit is fabulous troubles me.

I know of zero outer space aliens that would deliberately choose to wear this stuff, yet this company is trying to tell me that these outfits are flattering on humans and worth my hard earned money?

It is hard enough to look stylish as a big girl without this company suggesting that if we dress like the latest fashion campaign is... 'Goodwill--The New Paris'... then our hard earned dollars are well spent.

It just makes no sense to me and is a bit offensive that someone, somewhere thinks this retail mess is the look I've been waiting for.

Not today.
Or tomorrow.
Or the next day.
Or the next day..
Or the next day...

One comfy, multi purpose outfit seems like a wonderful idea after all!

Thanks for being here.

Bumper Sticker Wisdom.

The other day I saw this bumper sticker :

When the Power of Love Overcomes the Love of Power the World Will Know Peace

Awesome sentiment I thought.
But Jimi Hendrix?
Well, actually, yes.
Apparently 2 other guys were quoted as saying something like this before Mr. Hendrix.
William Gladstone and Sri Chinmoy Ghose, but all 3 thoughtful men said it with their own take on it.
Like if I said, "87 years ago our male founders, some strong brave women, a few dogs and heavy use of firearms brought forth....."
We all know that I'm not teaching history, being scholarly, or making a bumpersticker, but quoting Abraham Lincoln in my own way (and trying to give a wider perspective of credit for creating America).
That's what this bumper sticker is.
The yellow smart car bumper sticker is awesome because it states trueness and because of Jimi Hendrix.
He had gifts that few before or since had, so it is logical that he would say cool stuff.
I do not have Jimi's gifts or any presidential influence.
My bumper stickers would say :
"Where's my phone?"
"If you're behind me, then I win!"
"Don't even think about passing me!"
"Sharks need love too."
"Be nice to people...and sharks."
"Dinosaurs rule ruled!"
That is my depth of thought on most days.
You would know it was me when you read it.
So I have a deep appreciation for folks that can state the obvious in a cool and succinct way.
Some of the others I have seen but didn't get a pic of are:
"Jesus is coming....Look busy"
"Squirrel. The other white meat."
"Bumpersticker"

What are some of your favorite bumper stickers?

Thanks for being here.


Bonus bumper sticker :

"Squirrels. Natures Little Speedbumps"


(It would seem that squirrels are a popular bumpersticker theme around here)

Receipts.

Receipts.
Those little bits of paper that prove you worked up the courage to venture out into the cold cruel world and spend your cold hard cash.
They make me crazy.
You have to keep them for like a million years and they keep taking up more and more space doing their job.
This post exists because I needed some cheese.
Not some artisan, imported, fancy schmancy cheese.
Just sliced cheese.
The kind that we used to use when we would make regular old grilled cheese sandwiches to eat with our tomato soup for lunch.
Back when the earth's crust was still cooling apparently.
Now everything is a specialty item or complicated and healthy.
And I mean everything.
Receipts included.
Well, receipts aren't healthy particularly unless shredded receipt paper is a favorite salad topping, but they have become complicated.
They tell you:
-what you bought,
-how many you bought,
-how much you paid,
-how much you saved,
-total items purchased,
-what day of the week you bought it on,
-the time of day you bought it - down to minutes and seconds,
-the name of the store you bought it at,
-the store address,
-the store phone number,
-the store managers name,
-the cashiers name,
-how many children they each have to feed because that is the only reason they are even working at this store,
-the store motto,
-the complete history of retail and it's accomplishments all the way back to the industrial revolution
a n d
-how many points I have now earned on my quest to earn more of the points that I never knew I collected or have never been rewarded by anyway.
This information makes the receipt about 40 feet long.
Where am I supposed to stuff this colossal flattened forest remnant?
Arrrggghhh.
Take a deep breath and count to 10.9.8.7....
No problem really.
I have adapted...except when the receipt is given to me in the same handful as my change.
What do they think I am supposed to do?
Just drop this giant wad of money, receipt paper and coins in the Halloween pillow case I must now carry because my purse can't hold all this mess?
Heaven forbid they give me enough time to put the change into it's slotted section of my wallet THEN fold up the 40 foot snake of a receipt separately while the people behind me are shuffling their slippers and sighing loudly because they actually remembered to bring their Halloween pillow case to this event.
I would have less stuff to carry if we were back with the Barter System.
" Yes Ma'am, your change comes to a salt block and 2 goldfish that we can just drop down in your apron pockets if that's alright, and you have a nice day!"
When I pay the store, I don't hand them 35 different things and expect it to be dropped in the drawer and counted later.
I gave the store time to count and separate everything but I get handed a handful of stuff and a 'Scoot on out of here' attitude in return.
It's the cash isn't it?
Cash is so last year.
But I can't help it.
When I use plastic, I spend a lot more.
The stores know this and they hate me.
Well, I'm pretty sure they hate everyone.
They only love money.
So to show consumers their interpretation of love and their desire to see us again they give us a Christmas tree garland size, humongus receipt with all of their vital information on it, sort of like a dating profile, in the hopes that you will cherish this information in the candle light with a bottle of wine and choose to visit the store again and again as you remember your special time together.
Good times, good times...
Sniff, sniff, tissue please.
Not.
The receipt gets stuffed in a drawer and mostly forgotten.

I think I'd rather just have a goldfish.

Thanks for being here.

Hair of the Dog

During my fairly long life I am pleased to say that animals have been always been a part of it.
A wide variety of scaly, feathered, slimy, furry or hairy animals adorned my home and I over the years.
But today's post is about the hairy ones.
Currently there is nothing in this house that doesn't have at least one animal hair on it or in it.
Even after sweeping, mopping, showering, dusting and doing laundry there is no escaping it.
When headed to the Post Office or during the Christmas season there is at least one animal hair stuck to every piece of tape on every box, package, gift or envelope.
It is 'Cousin Itt' craziness.
Lets not even talk about the numbers of animal strands of fur that might be swirling around in the air and land in the skillet at dinnertime.
But to my family's credit they have gotten used to it and consider it a normal part of the daily fiber intake.
Well, all except one family member who has changed his tolerance level now that he has a job where he must interact with people of hairless influence on a daily basis.
This family member, my son, got all huffy the other morning about why he "couldn't even get dressed without dog hair every where!"
I can't imagine.
There have been pets in the house since his birth, some of them his, and now their daily offerings are a source of irritation.
The animals can't stop shedding and I can't clean hardly ever fast enough and now it's my fault that his pants, that were laying on the floor hours ago, are covered in dog hair.
A thousand pardons my liege.
But despite the hint of sarcasm he actually has a valid point.

Just to be clear, there are 200 pounds of animals (well 575 pounds total, if you count the son and the husband) in the house this very minute that leave evidence of their existence ever single hour of every single day and I am just not aware of anything that can stop the hairy carnage.
Except for super glue hair gel or a live in housekeeper, both of which would be a temporary quick fix but predictably irritating and expensive.
I can't even process a solution with a rational thought.

I looked up 'Hair of the Dog' after I wrote the title of this post because it sounded so familiar and the definition is... appropriately enough... " "Hair of the dog" is a colloquial expression in the English language predominantly used to refer to alcohol that is consumed with the aim of lessening the effects of a hangover."

Thank-you Wikipedia and British shows on Netflix.

So learn this my son, just like liquor, some things in life last a very long time and can only be remedied by more of the same.

Let us drink and raise a toast to dog hair.

Thanks for being here.


Hair of the Dog.
With a hint of Persian cat.