Me 'n My Laptop

Reason #3 - Work Opportunities

Reason #3 for moving to San Francisco:  I could become a dog walker, or do daycare for a few dogs.  Or learn to be a dog trainer.  There's a school that trains dogs for the Deaf, and I could take care of a puppy till it's ready to go to school. 

Or I could even be a nanny for a real human baby or two.  Or work at one of the 49 Curves.  I think I could actually find something that fits me because of all the different opportunities there.  I might be able to be worth something, be useful.  Cause my self-esteem has taken a hit with this MS crap.  I NEED to work at something, anything. 

For those of you who are secretly screaming inside because there was no Jeff Gordon picture today... it's cause there was no race.  Ha.  It's about damn time ya'll started screaming out loud about your Jeff Gordon passion. 

That is all.

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What do I look like? An expert?

Over heard.  On the telephone.  Anonymously. 

My sister:  Yak yak yak

Me:  Blah blah blah.

She:  Yak kid stuff yak yak yak

Me:  Blah blah blah

She:  Yak more kid stuff, why aren't the moms in this community sticking together, instead of letting boys sleep at their daughter's slumber parties, yak yak yak. 

Me:  Yea, it sucks. 

We hang up. 

She calls back. 

She:  And speaking of "that sucks", what the hell is a blow job about anyways?  Is there really blowing involved, am I doing it wrong or what?" 

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Signs that it'll be a good Saturday

I remember dragging one of my readers, back in the old days, around to garage sales and/or yard sales.  Besides the obvious and irritating jokes, "I don't see any garages for sale here", " it was funny to watch him try not to be interested in other people's junk.  Imagine my joy one day when he told me that he'd recently been to a garage sale in his home town of San Diego.  A convert! 

Proof that he poses. I think.

Oops, I forgot the flash.  Fumble fumble, remember how to set flash, fumble fumble.

Ahhh... much better.  It takes the camera longer to reboot for the next picture when using a flash... so....maybe 5 seconds later?...

He's holding the pose, cause I've still got the camera up in the air. 

                

He is also waiting, with intense hope, that the word "chicken" would fall out of my mouth, at which time he would SPRING from the couch with great happiness and glee.  He is stone incarnate, tensing with coiled springs to do his Super Man leap.  He doesn't just jump down off the couch.  No.  He leaps UP and about 4 feet OUT.  Made my son laugh outright the first time he saw it. 

It's almost eerie.  I'm the who moved. 

I SWEAR these are two separate pictures.  And it wasn't a click click.  It was a click.........click. 

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Reason #2 - The Weather

Reason #2 for Moving to San Francisco:  The predicted high for here is 98 degrees tomorrow.  The predicted high for San Francisco is the high 60's - low 70's.  The weather will be perfect for me.  Walking is what is keeping me healthy.  Heat turns me into a limp noodle and I get stupid.  I'll be able to walk the majority of the year, it won't get too hot most of the time.   Take a look at summer weather.   Perfect weather.  Truly better for my health.  I can't bear the extreme temperature between night and day.  It's not unusual for there to be a 30 - 40 degree difference in the space of 24 hours.  It makes me hurt too much. 

Ahem.

This was at a garage sale this very morning.  As luck would have it, I had my camera with me. 

Bring it on home!

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Turns out when I say "I feel fat", it means it's time for an Oil Change.  It's a new concept to 'feel fat' as opposed to BEING fat.  Who knew? 

Reason #1 - Variety Eating and Entertainment

A new feature on the blog will be "Reasons to Move to San Francisco". 

Reason #1 for Moving to San Francisco: I can't wait to be able to have the choice of being able to go to things like this and this.    And I can walk anywhere. 

In my little town, we have 3-4 bars, 2 gas stations, 2 variety stores, 1 grocery store, 1 Wendy's, 1 Taco Time, 1 Artic Circle, 2 restaurants, 1 Curves, and a few more miscellaneous shops.  A library.  Main street is 3 blocks long. 

That is all.

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Common

Photo Friday's theme is 'Common'. 

I couldn't decide which picture to use, so they're both on here. 

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Probably shouldn't even read this cause I'm in a biting heads mood

Boy howdy, am I grumpy. 

That is all.

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The People Want to Know

I keep forgetting to update my curious readers about the boys and MS experiment.  The one where I was seeing 3 different guys, who were at different levels of knowing about the MS.  LabMan knew about it straight up, VetMan didn't, and I was going to tell him only IF he noticed symptoms and asked me about it.  I would tell Nimby after the 5th or 6th date. 

It doesn't bother LabMan at all, and we still walk around the lake, but that's it.  He's either too chicken to ask me out, or he's not interested, or he's gay.  He says he isn't seeing anyone now, tho.  And I'm not interested enough to be more interested either. 

It hasn't come up with VetMan cause we've not been able to get together as much as we'd planned.  He was on call the night he was spose to go to the races with me, and if he'd got a call from Rexburg, it would have been almost an hour drive to get to a emergency call.  Then he went to Pullman, Washington, to teach a summer class at the college, and to try and decide whether he wanted to specialize in large animal or small animals.  And to decide whether Idaho Falls was the right place for him to start his own practice.  There's plenty of vets in our area, and unless you take over for a retiring vet, it's pretty hard to start a whole new practice around here.  So he's not been around to notice any symptoms, and still doesn't know.   

Nimby and I didn't make it past the first date, cause he chews.  Tobacco.  And then he spits. 

But things are looking up, cause ...

I'm sleeping with Brad Pitt these days..er.. nights. 

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A Toy Birth

Yes, this is her favorite toy, but really.  This is a bit much. 

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Driver's Meeting at Noise Park last weekend

Today's race is in Pocono.  Am in a really shitty mood, and don't know why.  The apartment is a mess, and I feel fat.  I want some pizza.  And chocolate.  And macaroni and cheese in the blue box.  Homemade would be good too. 

I woke up last nite, sat up in a cold sweat, because I'd dreamed my daughter-in-law had been killed in a car crash.  Dreamed my mother called to tell me 'SweetieGirl is dead".  This coming Saturday, she is driving home from Connecticut, so she can start back to school here in her home state.  Wants to be a nutritionist/dietician, and work in a school or someplace with children. 

Hands hurt, feet hurt, don't feel good.

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Sleeping in Circles

San Francisco

I wonder if my sister's uncharacteristic silence commenting on the "Esteemed Presidick" post has anything to do with the fact that she works for a Idaho State Senator, who is Redumblican, and has no doubt played golf with the president...  It's really too bad he's such a good boss. 

To answer some questions about the San Francisco post - the thought of living by the ocean makes me want to throw up cause it's so exciting.  That may have been the donut I ate tho, instead.  Evidently, I can't stand such sweetness anymore. 

The letter said I had an intake appointment Tuesday, July 25th, a mere 6 days from now, and I can't do that, so rescheduled for September 7th.  In the meantime, I have to get a California ID.  Sure wished I'd known that.  They said they won't even see me without a California ID.  Ahem. 

ReikiMan booked me a flight cause that's how it's spose to be done... planning ahead and all that for the cheapest flight.  I gave him all the info, so he could buy the flight, and then I suddenly remembered the dogs.  Did a quick calculation on whether driving down there would be $ wise, but not even close.  Felt a physical pain at the thought of not taking them.  Thought I better not push my luck by asking him to pay an extra $75.00 per dog, so didn't mention it.    SanFranMan will be disappointed - he likes my dogs better than he likes me, specially Muttin. 

I really really wanted not to tell SanFranMan about it, wanting to do this on my own, cause he has such a massive ego, and would think I'm changing my whole life cause of him, when it's sooo not about him, kiss kiss.   It will be nice to know someone there, yes indeed.  But I've been wanting to move out of Idaho ever since I got sick, because of the dismal medical care.  Ironically, I'm not needing better health care, but who knows how much longer that will last.  Also because of the heat.  Who knew a northern state would be hotter than a southern state? 

I applied for housing in Ruidoso, New Mexico too, before I applied in San Francisco, telling myself which ever came first - I'd go.  ReikiMan no longer lives in Ruidoso, but I would have moved there anyways, because medical is still better than here, altho it's temperatures haven't been that much cooler than here lately.  But after spending just one hour at the ocean in SF last fall - that was it.  I spent 4-5 days in SF, being ambivalent about moving there, until I went thrift store shopping and took the bus to do so, and then to the beach.  That sealed it, of all things.  I was thrilled to be in the middle of all those crazy people on the streets, and thrilled to be on the beach, where there weren't hardly any people at all.  And there were books and books and more books for sale for a $1.00 everywhere I went!  And my dogs LOVED the beach.  All within a half hour of each other, by bus ! 

So anyways, I really wanted to move down there all by myself, and then call him, and say oh by the way, I'm down here now, wanna do dinner? and he'd be all surprised and proud of me, and then he'd pay for dinner, and I'd be so clever.  But I was too excited.  And practical.  That being picked up at the airport and showing me the houses and apartments I could live in, so I don't pick out a place in the slums thing.  Big cities have slums, and while I would find that fascinating, it would probably wear thin if I couldn't take my dogs out walking in the neighborhood.  So I called him and bubbled and he said cool, and he's harried to the gills with his kids, but he sounds so happy for a change.  After we hung up, it occurred to me that he's still got a bunch of stuff of Jorge's in a storage unit up here - maybe we can combine moving me and his stuff at the same time.  Oh, I get cleverer and cleverer all the time!  I LOVE to move, and change and new things.  I must, cause I think I've helped ReikiMan about 14 times, to move around the country.  Okay, maybe only three times. 

But a change... I need a change desperately.  I'm so stalled and empty here.  It's a horrible place to be single too, because there's nothing to do but bars and bowling.  I'm getting to me more and more of a loner, perfectly content by myself, but bored as hell.  My most favorite thing is to walk with the dogs, and I'd much rather let them run free on the beach because the desert here just doesn't cut it.  Big cities fascinate me, I need better medical care, and the beach satisfies the soul. 

I don't think SanFranMan reads my blog anymore, but I'm going to start a post consisting of questions for him to answer, and one of these days I'll bring it to his attention, so that he can answer them all at once, rather than have me calling him 4 times a day with every little thing.  Cause that would make him crazy, and then he won't pick me up at the airport.  Like... how much is cable down there?  And is the Oprah show on at 4pm?   And will he come find me after my first earthquake? 

And now I think I will go throw up the donut. 

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His Vampire Impression

He vants to suck yer blud...

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Our Esteemed Presidick

I'm in a state of fury this morning.  Big and small issues. 

LabMan and I were walking our dogs around the lake this morning and got yelled at by an old lady for letting my dogs pee right off the walking path???  LabMan has a temper. 

And what the FUCK right does one man have to say nay to medical advances that will cure millions of people, therefore saving the government untold amounts of money in medical care, and disability benefits. 

Yea, yea, yea, the constitution gives that twit, President Bush, the right, but our founding forefathers had no concept of the magnitude of the diseases of today, and the costs of supporting those diseases.  For something medical, affecting the health and lives of millions of people, to come down to the personal belief of ONE man is unconscionable. 

"Polls show that 70 percent of the public supports the bill, which would expand federal aid for embryonic stem-cell research. The process is believed by many scientists to hold the most promise for curing diseases such as juvenile diabetes, Alzheimer's and Parkinson's that strike millions of people."

Thank the stars above that there's also the voice of reason here.  Despite our President's god-complex, research will go on, and altho this particular article says cures are "decades away", I think it'll come sooner.  But to have the government's funds endorsement would add legitimacy to the effort,  and the scientist's can concentrate on the right issue - a cure, rather than where the next dollar is coming from.  Each disease should have a percentage of the government funds, based on how much it spends for supporting those diseases, and take the damn politics out of it.  The millions that is spent in lobbying alone could go for a cure. 

If President Bush vetoes the stem cell research bill, research will carry on.  But there is a responsibility for the monies to go to each disease fairly, rather than the current system.  Parkinson's might be more visible right now, with Michael J. Fox's face on it.  I am curious as to why a private company like Johnson & Johnson would contribute millions to medical research.  It seems to me private companies have an agenda, while the government has the most to gain if Parkinson's, Alzheimers, Diabetes, etc., were cured.    Oh... except for us... the little people with the diseases. 

Enough said.  I'm a bitch today.  Cept for the San Francisco housing thing.  Which makes me want to throw up at the thought of actually living near the ocean. 

Remember this? 

It's now this.

And it's 97 freaking degrees right now.  Dunno why the news is saying 92, cause it's wrong.  It's 76 degrees in San Francisco. 

Yes indeed. 

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My dog is cuter than your dog...

I got 14 pictures of this cause he just kept holding still as long as the camera was clicking.  Poser.  So goofy.  As soon as I put the camera down, he got up. 

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ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh

From the San Francisco Housing Authority:

"Thank you for applying for the San Francisco Housing Authority Conventional Housing Program.  Your name has reached the top of the waiting list for your family's household size.  Blah blah blah". 

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Can't breathe! 

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I'm Bad and Nasty... in India

Gosling, who lives in India, hasn't been able to get into my blog for a couple of days.  Then she got the following information, and told me about it in our Yahoo chat.  (Don't ask me what a 'portal' is, sounds pretty star trekky to me, tho).  She sent me the link. 

Gosling:  It's a news portal.  It says some Indian ISP's have blocked Blogspot and TypePad blogs.

McShadow:  ohhhhh.  My blog is still blocked????

Gosling:  Yes, you're with TypePad.

McShadow:  Oh my.  Do they say why?

Gosling:  No idea really.  They gloss over that bit.

McShadow:  Wow

Gosling:  Say they got a list from somewhere.

McShadow:  If that happened in America, there would be national outrage.  Wow. 

Gosling:  Well, they did say it would be corrected by 2pm tomorrow.

McShadow:  ohhhhhhh.  It's sounds like some sort of bug then. 

Gosling:  No, not really.

McShadow:  I thought it was some sort of censorship thing. 

Gosling:  It IS censorship.  Says they got a list of sites to block.

McShadow:  But if they say it'll be corrected, it sounds like something is wrong with them receiving TypePad and Blogspot.

Gosling:  Nope, they got a list of specific blogs to block.

McShadow:  That's too weird.

Gosling:  Instead, they blocked the whole Blogger and TypePad.

McShadow:  I don't think I've added any porn talk to this blog. 

Gosling:  No?

McShadow:  Altho...

McShadow:  I did talk about bras.

Gosling:  HUSH.  You'll get my YM blocked too.  (Yahoo Messenger)

McShadow:  I can't talk porno cause my mother and sister are reading.

Gosling:  Oh

Gosling:  That'd stop you?

McShadow:  It shouldn't.  I just tend to behave myself better. 

Gosling:  Ah.  What about past porn?

McShadow:  it's still waiting in the wings, trying to decide if I should re-publish it (from the last blog).

Gosling:  Oh

McShadow:  I should just post this chat, and that'll open the door for me. 

Gosling:  So you're using me?

McShadow:  Yup

McShadow:  There's nothing REALLY porny.  Just some kind of suggestive tones around the edges.  Certainly no pictures! 

McShadow:  ohhhhhhhhhhhhh...

Gosling:  What?  And really, Jeff's little... exposure WAS porny.  He's people. 

McShadow:  I did show that blurry picture of my neck and chest - the cleavage post.  No wonder I'm on their list. 

Gosling:  It's all your fault.

McShadow:  Yup

Gosling:  You have to do something about it.  You can't just say yup.

McShadow:  I'm sitting here in abject shame. 

Gosling:  It wasn't the cleavage!!!

McShadow:  I did say "boobies" too.  Blogging publicly seems to bring out the potty mouth in me. 

Gosling:  I told you it's Jeffrey's man-things.

McShadow:  I'd prefer to think it was my cleavage, that shut down TypePad in India, thankyouverymuch. 

And speaking of cleavage, Oprah's show today is about "Finding the Right Size Bra Cause 90% of American Women are Wearing the Wrong Bra". 

NOT ME!!!  I feel like flashing my boobs to the TV, so Oprah can see how good I did. 

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There's always a price to pay...

My sister came to pull weeds this morning, which meant she had to leave her house at 6:30am.  It takes 7 minutes to get to my place, so we got about 30-35 minutes of weeding in before she had to leave for work.  Got 2 1/2 rows done.  Sooo appreciated it is, really.  I mean really.  No lie.  Can't thank her enough. 

And of COURSE she can have some onions and radishes!  No problem!  Take all you want!  Take some for your boss too!

But...

 

...taking half the straw in the garden is uncalled for. 

I'm just say'n. 

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What's Yours is Mine

What's that?  Is it something good?  Why does he have it and I don't?  That's not going to work for me.  I want it, whatever it is.  It will be mine. 

Got it. 

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Took him out to the races

My little man got to go to the races last nite.  I must admit to feeling a tad bit foolish asking the driver of #18 if I could take a picture of "Jeff Gordon"  in his car.  He frowned at me, and said "Why not Tony Stewart?"  Of course you know my response to that was to gag. 

This is the weeding project for the day/week.  I need to clear from the right of the dirt boundary there on the left.  So my cantaloupe, watermellon, and cucumbers can grow.  The corn is knee-high. 

There's a new poll up.  Be sure to vote, cause I'm realllly curious about this one.  Feel free to comment in detail, after voting, so I can put a face to each vote...

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Blog Business

TypePad had a couple of days of technical difficulty this last week.  Anything that was posted during a certain time period disappeared.  When they got back from their technical difficulty, some posts weren't recovered.  I was really glad to see their email telling me this, because I had just happened to post the most ridiculously long post EVER, with pictures, which makes it even more difficult, cause I was thinking I was completely insane when I couldn't find it. 

I see it's recovered now, so you might want to scroll down to see "The Longest Yard". 

Then we'll get back to our regularly scheduled program. 

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Nap

Glatiramer Acetate

Glatiramer acetate. Allrighty then. That is the medicine that I shoot into my body every day. I just noticed the contents. Acetate. Isn't that like... paint remover? I'll look it up. Acetate = C2H3O2 ion, a salt, ester, or acylal derived from acetic acid. Oh, that was helpful. Gads. It's called Copaxone. It's one of the 4 or 5 power drugs for MS. Supposedly they slow down the progress of the disease and less flare-ups. I used to be on Avonex, a once a week shot, with a INCH and 1/4 long needle. It goes ALL the way in. When you're giving it to yourself, the needle looks to be about 3 inches long. I did that for 3 years, but as my hands got worse, the more I'd blow it off. It took so much mental energy to gear myself up to give myself the shot. So we switched to Copaxone, with a MUCH shorter needle, and I've got this little doodad thingy that shoots it into my skin. I don't even see the needle. MUCH better. But who knows if it's helping. MS is so ... back and forth, good days, bad days, weeks, months, then it can go away for a bit - who knows. I do have to admit... just knowing I have Acetate in my body makes me feel... stronger.

Annointed One

This is this Photo Friday's entry.  I call it "Annointed One", because those who have followed my dogs at all, know that Muttin is the boss dog, and Jeffrey is submissive to her most of the time.  So when I looked up to see Jeffrey bathed in sunlight and Muttin staring at him as if in worship, I ran for the camera.  This is when they were young and scruggy, btw. 

And yes, I know this is the second Photo Friday I've done.  One contest gives us a subject and we've got a week before we can post it.  This one gives you the subject and you can post anytime during that week.  So I dumbly thought 'Summer' was this weeks subject when it was really last weeks.

Plus?  I forgot I'd already done  a 'Summer'.  Fine, I'm human. 

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Plotting

The Longest Yard

Let's face it.  Muttin is normally a pain in the ass.  She is constantly testing me.  She is the problem child.  And she never feels bad when she's punished, because Jeffrey takes it on.  When she's in trouble, he's the one who hangs his head, skulks around, and just is miserable until I tell him he's a GOOOOOOD dog.  Then he's damn skippy. 

She does have her moments.  I was sitting on the couch with a book, when she walked over, and coiled her little body to jump up.  She was in mid-air when she stopped herself and looked at me, with an almost panicked look, to see if it was alright to be on the couch.  It was just the oddest thing, like she'd been smacked down inside her conscience.  Perfectly plausible except for the fact that she doesn't have a conscience, because when in the womb together, Jeffrey got her  portion. 

Yesterday, we headed out for our walk.  Walk walk walk. 

We see a cat.  She ran to the end of the building at the far end and turned left.  Ran ran ran. 

Turned the corner and ran some more. 

I'm assuming she ran that way cause I'm still at this corner, and she's out of sight.

When I reached the corner where she was last seen.... no Muttin.  The road is just beyond the white house on the right.  I was sure she ran down the road and got hit by a Volkswagon Beetle. 

We looked left.

No Muttin.

We looked right.

No damn Muttin.  No black spot underneath a Volkswagon in sight either.

So we came back up allll the way this way...

... to the back of the building, where there were seniors telling me she was "down that way".  I asked if she was inside or outside.  "Outside". 

We walked alllll the way down to the dark left corner, which is where my apartment is.  She's been known to be there, waiting for us.  No Muttin.  And I don't have my keys, so I can't get in. 

We walked allll the way back to the back of the building, me cussing out the seniors under my breathe.  I have MS, don't they know, and it's hot, and they're sending me on wild goose chases.  Turned right at the corner...

...where 4 seniors were standing at the open door ...

... and telling me that Muttin was way down the hall by my apartment, but wouldn't come to any of them.  I passed out on the ground from exhaustion. 

Okay, no I didn't. 

What she had done...

Was turned left...

... to the front of our building, to the parking lot...

...thru the parking lot...

...thru the front courtyard...

... to the back alleyway that is opposite of the alleyway I was at...

... halfway thru the alleyway...

 

... to the door that was standing wide open, and on down the hall.  When she heard my voice, she galloped down the hall to see me.  Happy as a lark.  Tongue hanging out.  She'd made a full circle around the building, had a grand time.  So began the age-old question... she came back, so if I punished her, would she get the message she's being punished for coming back?  Oh hell, am I on crack?  This is Muttin - she scoffs in the face of disapproval, and tells Jeffrey he's a puss when he's in trouble, which happened back in 2001. 

I wasn't tired enough, so I did this long-ass post. 

Did I mention it was 90 degrees today? 

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Summer

Today's Friday's Photo is 'Summer'.  This is a hot dog sunning in summer.  Who needs a drink a water. 

Whatever.

Okay, so 5 hours in the garden... how many days ago?... isn't such a good idea after all.  Even tho I felt no affects from it that day/nite... in fact I was planning on going back to work, and getting a place of my own, convinced I was cured even of the affects of the sun - I didn't even get dumb that day. 

So the next day was a freebie cause I watered the garden.  The next day was Sunday and the 11th Commandment says  'Thou shalt not labor on Nascar days'.  Yesterday it was too hot, so I didn't go out there.  Well, cept for the part when I went for a walk at 2pm, the hottest part of the day, in a black t-shirt and flannel pajama pants.  Not my wisest moment.  I couldn't figure out why the dogs weren't thrilled when I grabbed the least and collars.  Towards the end of the walk, I felt a resistance on the leash behind me and looked back.  Jeffrey was prostate on the ground (I'm sorry, I just have to link, in case there's new readers!)and Muttin was dragging him by the neck, trying to keep up with me.  At first I was horrified, I killed my dog with heat stroke.  And it was the good dog too.  Then I realized it was the only way to tell me and Muttin that he needed to be in the shade for a minute, thankyouverymuch.  So he plopped his self down and staged a strike.  I was gonna say 'walkout', but he'd quit walking so walkout doesn't work.  After I realized he wasn't dead, it was pretty funny to see Muttin dragging him, pulling forward like a horse in harness pulling a wagon, looking up at me and saying "I told you he's a pain in the neck, dammit".  Jeffrey rarely puts his foot down with her (lays his body down?) so that was even funnier.  Like a toddler throwing a fit in the grocery store.  Only he looked pretty proud of himself after.

So back to the fact that I have MS after all.  Today, we walked 2.5 miles and I was beat.  Normally, I can do that, work in the garden for a couple hours, and then go to Curves with no problem.  I looked at the garden and actually felt dizzy and nauseous, and all crumply.  So I am resting today, cause tonite, I'm maybe spose to have help coming to weed a row or two. 

I kept going the wrong direction at Curves.  Backed up the car when I should have pulled forward.  Couldn't hold a pen and/or write.  Tried to pour bean soup into a Tupperw*re, but couldn't cause the lid was still on it.  That one was really confusing cause I couldn't figure out why the soup wouldn't just go in.  Stopped talking in the middle of a sentence cause I forgot I was talking.  It wasn't a case of forgetting what I was going to say. 

I do believe I made myself allergic to the sun. 

They're going cheap

They're Going Cheap

(Written 5 years ago)

One male, one female - approximately 4 months old.

Partially potty trained - one pees inside and poops outside, the other cleverly does the opposite in order to confuse the DNA samples.

Muttin (female) is all black with black eyes. Can we say “devil”? Diva also comes to mind. Jeff (male) is black with white chest, chin, and toes. He looks like a worried old man.

Female is smart as in “dumb like a fox”, male is not smart, but he's cuter than her.

Champion jumpers. Of course this means they would be an asset on any basketball team, or better yet, the Frisbee Flying/Fetching Championships. This skill in no way reflects on the inability to keep the female IN her own yard. That’s a sideline hobby of her’s, one I’m sure she’ll give up once she gets bored with the neighborhood.

Prozac may be needed to stop manic behavior, if they don't grow out of it past the terrible twos.

They both are computer literate, programming the Day Planner to note their daily feeding time. Which they think is 4pm and 4am. 

They do not like leashes.

They understand the words "no", "down", "go to bed", "hold still", and "stay back". Actually, the girl understands these things, the boy follows her lead.

"No" means they stop what they're doing for 2 seconds, run back to me for loves and hugs, and run back to what they were doing.  "Down" means only jump on my pants twice
"Hold still" means you can't have a treat till you hold still for 2 seconds. They have mastered this one.  "Go to bed" means they go to the crate with a treat. They've mastered this one too.
"Stay back" means they don't zoom thru the gates or out the door under your feet anymore.
They sit cutely, looking lost and forlorn so you let them come thru after all.

They are adorable.

They eat puppy chow, Rolaids, and hot chocolate powder mix when they can find such items on the desk they love to jump on. They are also fond of shoes, slippers, leaves, twigs, and snow/ice. They're favorite activity is to take inside things outside thru the pet door, and bring in outdoor things inside.

They do not come when one whistles for them, because the cockatiel whistles for them constantly, thereby minimizing the effects of human whistling.

They are at their best when sleeping. They don't sleep very often.

They LOVE to jump up on high surfaces. They are frightened of getting back down on their own.

So far they only bark at each other and their images in the mirror.

The male is extremely valuable - he comes with a 486.00 vet bill for his parvo cure.

Please let me know if you're interested in the little darlings.

Sunning

His Weiner Dog Impression

All Growed Up

I forgot to mention this in the last gardening post.  As I was squatted down (I can squat!) pulling weeds, I looked down to make sure I wasn't showing off my new bra to the middle-aged man pervert who watches me whenever I'm out there.  I was STUNNED to see that ... I HAVE CLEAVAGE!!!  I stood up straight to see if I still had some.  Yup!  Just a little, but yup.  And to think... it only took 48 years to grow it. 

Bout damn time. 

Handsome

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Probe failure

The first email of the day:  "Probe failure for HBO - Deadwood". 

It caused my heart to beat faster.  Sounds bad.  I LOVE Deadwood.  My cable bill is 20 bucks extra because of this one show.  Choose the Beautitudes promo to look at.  If you're a fan, and saw last season, you'll understand the cringe at "probe" as it applies to Swearingen.  He had gallstones... back in the olden days.

Enough said, I can't even write anymore as my lady parts area is all squeegy now. 

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Self-Portrait Challenge

I see myself as a mere shadow of my former self, cause the MS took away so much and my brain and I can't multi-task anymore.  This was taken about a year and a half ago.  Check out other self-portraits at Self Portrait Tuesday.

I also see myself as the pack leader too. 

Update:  ACK!  I see someone else did a picture of her shadow too.  I swear it's hard to be an original on the Internet. 

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I See Dead People...

Conversation with my sister.  She mentioned someone with cancer cells, which reminded me.  The gist:

Me:  For the last several weeks/months maybe, whenever prostate cancer is mentioned in the press, SanFranMan immediately jumps into my head.  Not just in passing, not anyone else, not just because I care about him.  I care about someone else too, but he doesn't jump into my head.  I get like a hot flash going thru me...

She's nodding her head, saying the appropriate uh oh's and taking it appropriately seriously. 

She:  Have you told him?

Me:  No.  We don't talk that much anymore. 

Me:  Blah blah blah.

She:  Blah blah blah back.

Me:  Oh, and Jorge had prostate cancer.  But I don't remember if his kids knew about it or not.  And it was one of those things that Jorge told me that he didn't want anyone to know.  (The 5 other kids who weren't around at all). 

She:  Ohhhhhh. 

Boy, she's just a river of insight, isn't she?

Me:  There were other things he didn't want me to tell anyone, but I could never tell if he was serious or not, or didn't realize that we already knew whatever it was he didn't want us to know.  Sometimes it felt like he was confessing, and if I did tell, he'd smite me from heaven. 

She:  Does SanFranMan have respect for your 'seeing' thing?

I have visions.  Believe I've astral traveled 4 times.  See auras around people.  See people.  Have predicted things all of my life - people behavior mostly.  Or else I'm crazy.  ReikiMan believes I have a gift.  I believe I might, but it scares me so I don't delve into it too much.  He believes in my Tarot Card reading, but I sometimes think it's rigged, but then I'd have to say I'm the one doing the rigging, and I know I'm not.  So.  There's that.  Criminy, not only am I having hot flash vibes, but now I'm starting to feel silly, blabbing on about this that embarrasses me.  I'm more comfortable talking about sex, or Jeffrey's anal glands than this.

Me:  No, he doesn't.  Doesn't believe in it.  Thinks its silly.

Her:  Ohhh.  Hmmm.

Me:  ReikiMan believes in it.  And in me having it. 

He's the one who triggered actual concious acknowledge of it, cause when I met him the first time?  Saw bright blue and yellow aura's around him.

Me:  But I don't think ReikiMan would give a damn or be impressed about one of my 'feelings' regarding SanFranMan....

She:  Yes, probably not.  Hahahaha 

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Fishy days, sleepless nites

I had two fish moments the other day.  The first one... I cleaned the tank, and put the fish in a bowl while I did it.  One jumped out.  I didn't notice it, but Muttin did.  She was laying down on her elbows, looking intently at the floor.  I looked and there was a fish between her front paws and she looked for all the world as if she were saying her prayers first before she imbibed.  I grabbed the fish and put it back in the bowl.  It swam around, which meant I had to get the glob of dog hair it was surrounded in.  Picked up the damn fish again, and picked off all the dog hair.  Determined to vaccum more often. 

Then, the next day, I bought more fish.  One was a big silver catfish looking thing with black spots.  It has spikey looking things behind it's front fins.  Turns out those spikey looking things hurt.  The damn fish got caught in the net by those spikey things, on both sides.  I finally had to cut it out of the net.  Then I had a fish with two pieces of green netting stuck on both sides of it's body.  I managed to cut close enough to one fin to get the green netting off one side.  The other one, I couldn't get close enough and I was afraid of cutting off it's fin or spikey thing, and didn't want to hear a fish scream.

So for days, it's had a tiny piece of green netting attached to it, and I've barely been able to sleep nites from worrying about it.

Today, the green netting is gone. 

Whew. 

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Sit!!

Such a good girl. 

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Chicagoland

The race is on at the Chicagoland Speedway in Joliet, Illinois, just outside of Chicago.  Where Oprah lives. 

Don't ask me why there's a toilet sitting outside of our building.  I kind of like it tho.  I could put a big plant on it.  I'll update this after the race.  Hands hurt, not having a good day.  Gotta get the Gordon pic up during the race tho, so I don't jinx my man who just got engaged last week oh yea, I forgot about that, I've blocked it out.  In case you've missed the rest of them...  go here. 

I've discovered a problem with allowing potentials to read my blog.  When I asked someone who his favorite driver was, and he said "Jeff Gordon", did he say it cause it really is his favorite, or because he's read the blog?  And here I thought I was being so clever, telling them to read the blog cause that would handle the 'Do I Tell a Potential Man That I Have MS Now or Later Question'. 

Which reminds me.  Someone asked that I update about VetMan, LabMan, and ... what's his name... oh Nimby.  Will later.  Hands hurt. 

UPDATE: oh my.  Gordon was 2nd, a whole second behind leader and suddenly started to catch up.  Leader Kenseth got spun out, big debate on whether Gordon spun him out on purpose, but it looks like kenseth slowed down, and Gordon tapped him.  Gordon leader, 2 laps to go, but whether he has enough gas or not is NOW the question.  Oh the stress.  Then Kenseth ran out of gas, so he wouldn't have won anyways.  Gordon WINS!!!  And Kenseth, back in 9th place hit the wall hard.  Be interesting to see after the race.  These two have a bit of history, spinning each other out.

A fan just threw a beer bottle at Gordon's car.  As the commentator's just said... low class.  Fans like that don't deserve to be at a Nascar race. 

Two wins in the last 3 weeks.  And of course we see the fiance come up to kiss him. 

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A bit about the garden, please admire it

I added the Comments thingy on the left sidebar, wondering what the heck it's purpose was.  Thought, well... maybe peops would like to see their name on screen?  Dunno.  But did it.  And suddenly it became clear. 

In my old blog, when I made a comment back to someone, it notified the person I commented to.  This blog doesn't do that.  But by looking at the Comments in the sidebar, you can see who's commented and ta da!  you'll know if I've commented to you. 

I just spent 5 hours out in the garden.  6am to 11am.  Sun started hurting.  Probably caught cancer.  Miracle Growed the tomatoes and the corn.  And the strawberries, peas, and prize winning pumpkins.  Oh and the cucumbers, watermelon, and cantaloupe.  I still need to do the flowers, radishes, kohlrabi, and beans.  Goodness.  I should go back out there and take a picture.  But I'm afraid it'll suck me back in.  And the automatic sprinklers aren't working right, so there's dry spots in the lawn.  Of course, I can't stand that, so am setting sprinklers all over the place.  Knowing that the Old People are bitching cause gosh darn it, that's the landlord's responsiblity, and if the lawn is green, she won't see the problem.  Shut up Old People, or I'll make sure the sprinkler hits your windows. 

It did suck me back in. 

Five freshly weeded corn and tomato plants.  I am in the foreground, thinking about getting the hose. 

Count 3 trees from the left.  Jeffrey is the black speck in the shade between the 3rd and 4th tree.  He knows I'm thinking about getting the sprinkler started.  He's afraid of sprinklers.  And the water that comes out of it.

Here's a close-up.  He's deeply serious about not wanting to be near me and a hose.

Onions and radishes.  But mostly morning glory weeds.  This is tonite's project.  Or tomorrow mornings. 

There's pumpkins, watermelon, cantaloupe and cucumbers in here.  The little only lady in a wheelchair got mad at me when I wouldn't add another 20 feet, so she could plant more squash.  We're supposed to keep it weed free according to the landlady, and I said no way, we had enough to weed.  She swore she'd do the weeding.  Ummm.   She did clear 4 of the hills, but that was all.  I'm gonna spray these weeds dead.  I've got a huge piece of cardboard that I'll use to shield the good plants. 

Annnddd then I have the flower portion of my little world.  This will be weed free by next weekend.  That's why I'm taking pictures - make the commitment and tell the whole Internet. 

He finally got brave enough to come closer.. 

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My Moody Monthly is Here

I walked downtown to take a picture of this shocking, but real horror. 

My name is not on the Biggest Loser's board at Curves.  Sniff.  Probably cause I bragged about being on it 9 months out of 12 months.  And the staff has been pointing me out to new members that I've been the Biggest Loser for the last 3 months in a row.  Pride goeth before the fall, as they say.

I had my weigh-in/measure day a couple of days ago, and lost inches again, but gained 3 pounds.  ???  Oh well, that's odd, but okay. 

Then?  Yesterday Kitty had a Nosebleed.  What kitty, you ask?  The kitty down in the Leaky Basement, of course.  Evidently, I am blessed with the Misery more than twice a month, since I had a Leak Week about 2 weeks ago.  My cup of Joy is Overflowing. 

Forgive my over-doing my alphabetic Aunt Flo hysteria, which began here, here, here and here.  But what with my Lady Days being gone last year for about 6 months, to suddenly reappearing, to having it 2 times a month, leads me to believe my personal little Nuisance is about to ebb away into that thing they call menopause.  Which I can't decide is a good thing or not.  I think it's spose to cause some sort of crisis, but frankly, crisis's are boring to me now. 

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That which raises my pulse rate every time I think of it

As mentioned before, I had a Dog Whisperer moment of my own the other day with the dogs.  While we were walking, a black chow mix came out of nowhere and attacked my dogs.  On a leash, mine were.  Jeffrey fought right back, protecting Muttin, and Muttin was doing her best to protect Jeffrey.  Wait a minute.  No one was protecting me! 

If I had any doubt how far I'd go to protect my dogs, I have none now.  I stuck my hand down in the melee of knashing teeth without thought, trying to keep it away from us.  That asshole dog had a harness on, so I kept trying to grab that.  After 3 tries, I finally got ahold of it, but it knocked me off my feet, which put me even closer to the middle of Fang City.  I considered just letting go of the leash, but because of the t-strap, my dogs would have got so tangled/tied up and we were right next to the road.  A fairly busy road, but not on Sundays.  It was truly a brawl, and I'm not positive, but I think I may have been snarling too.  Or maybe swearing.  I was soooo angry.  In pure fight mode.

But we were definitely losing.  Because of the length of the leash, I couldn't keep my dogs separate from the evil chow.  I've  no idea why we didn't get hurt more, because there was alot of blood.  The only thing the VetMan and I can figure is that Jeffrey actually managed to hurt the chow somehow, cause he only had one bite mark on his chest, and that's where he was all bloody at first.  Finally, a couple drove up, and stopped.  The woman jumped in the middle of it, and the guy was able to grab the asshole dog.  Good thing, cause if I'd been the one, I really think I would have choked him senseless.  The woman helped me up, and untangled me from the leash.  Me and the dogs just stood there, breathing heavy, trying to catch our breaths.  Jeffrey was all puffed up, convinced he had won.   Muttin emerged completely unscathed, and was ready for more. 

I pointed to the house I assumed the asshole dog came from, and said I wanted to go talk to the owner.  At that point it became obvious that there was something wrong with me, cause MS came back, full-blown.  I couldn't talk right, and couldn't put 3 steps together in a reasonable way.  So the guy dragged the asshole dog to their front door, and gave the lady who answered a piece of his mind.  I added mine too, but swearing unintelligbly doesn't quite cut it.  You know how you type #%$#%^*&%$*^ to be polite about swearing?  I actually saw those symbols in my mind like a billboard, since I couldn't seem to talk them out. 

I can't remember if it was the couple who saved us or VetMan who said I was outside city limits, so there was no legal recourse, but then someone else said something to the effect that an attack was an attack, so maybe there really is.  Time has passed, and I'd still like to see that chow dead.  Which is saying alot, cause I tend to like dogs.  Just a little bit. 

One of us could seriously be dead right now. 

I'm getting a stun gun baton thingy.  Donations accepted cause I know that you care deeply about my dogs.  Right?  Okay then. 

Update:  So I wrote the above a couple days ago, and forgot to post it.  I remembered today, because Jeffrey and I really do have PTSD.  Again this morning, during our walk, a dog started barking at us thru a fence, and Jeffrey walked very close to my heel.  He'd look up at me, and then with horror at his stupid sister, who was yapping her head off at the fence.  After watching the Dog Whisperer compulsively the last couple of weeks, I now know that I am the pack leader, and I failed in protecting them during the dog fight, and he's lost trust in me. 

I'm not kidding.  And my sister needs to stop rolling her eyes.  My dogs really do speak english. 

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I went bra shopping and I won!

Bra shopping.  Three days ago.  I finally feel strong enough to blog about it. 

Mine are all to big for me now, because altho I'm proud to have lost weight, two and a half thirds of the weight I have lost has been in the boobies.  Which would imply that I was quite ... chesty, but somehow, that was not the case, either.  Life is not fair, as I have well established. 

So.  I tried on 47 bras.  Yes, I counted.  You may think I counted because I am anal that way.  No.  I counted, knowing that there was a possibility of blogging about it.  You never know what might be blog-worthy, so it pays to pay attention to the details. 

So.  I tried on 47 bras.  Only 6 items are allowed in the dressing room at one time.  I drew the line at re-dressing after each 6 items so that I could go get the next six, asking the clerk very politely if she could take the 6, and bring me the next 6, which were sitting in the cart close by, thank you very much, please.  And oh, please, after I try them on, please place them in the appropriate piles somewhere out there because there's no room in the dressing room. 

1.  Possible, but Have to Try a Different Size Pile.

2.  Possible, but I can't Decide if Purple is really my Color Pile.

3.  Possible, but I can't decide if Flesh-Toned is really my Color Pile.  No wait, that one can probably go in pile # 3.  Sorry.

4.  What was I Thinking Pile.  (The water bra, for one.  The Bare Intimate left alot to be desired.  And the deep plunging one.  There's nothing deep about my boobs, nor do I want any plunging going on).

5.  No. 

6.Oh HELL no.

7.  Yes. 

But wait.  The Yes pile isn't necessarily a done deal.  There is an international law, applicable in all nations, that once a woman has finally found a bra that actually fits, when she goes back to grab a couple more from the rack from whence it came... said law requires that there are none.  Even if a shopper is clever enough to check that there are 20 bras of the same size before she tries one on, the International Evil Bra Snatcher comes along and buys all twenty of them while the poor victim is still in the dressing room, who in her blissful but short-lived ignorance is jumping up and down, celebrating the fact that she's found a bra that fits.

One of the sad facts of my life is that I've never known what bra size I was.  How much of that is due to denial is for my God/Higher Power business to determine.  Way back in the beginning, being a 32AA was a shameful secret, so I'd pretend a 34B fit me better, which it did not.  (I wished it would have been a shameful secret had it not been for the fact that a lady clerk was trying to size/fit/maul my little rosebuds into a training bra and I'm sure she got on the phone and called everyone she knew to say she'd just fitted at 20 year old with a -2AA)  (And what the hell was a training bra all about?  Obviously I got a defective brand, since the boobies stayed small)  Then I blamed the bra manufactures, who decided their own brand was the one true sizing measurement, and who cared if all the other manufactures said a 36C was really a 34B - they were going to make their 36C's really fit 34B's, thereby feeding into that secret shame of being too small.  Pretty soon, all the different manufacturers followed suit, and never again did a Cross My Heart 36B be the same size as a Victoria Secrets 36B.  I've been everything from a 32AA to a 42C.  Did you know there's no such thing as a 40A or B?  Not in any store I've shopped at.  Today I learned that sizes go from 32AA to 54H.  I also Googled how to find your bra size, and was pleased to learn that I had bought the right size.  Plus?  It only took 4 hours to do so.  Score!

We women make the joke about how we don't have any concept of measurements, because our men are contantly telling us 6 inches is really.... 12 inches?  If you know what I mean.  Well, we women also have our numbers shame when it comes to personal anatomy.  Only we get letters to go along with our number, so we get to fool ourselves twice over. 

Speaking of fooling ourselves, we also try to fool the male species.  With padded bras, push-up bras and implants.  Which I never really understood, cause do you keep the pad and the push-up on when you get naked in front of a man to keep the illusion going?  Not to mention the padding gets all crumpled in the wash which translates into wrinkled under the t-shirt.  Not a desired result either.  And fake boobs?  They look fake. 

So anyways, I tried on 47 bras.  (It's all in the details)  The manufacturers must have got their act together, because for the first time ever, I was a consistent 36C.  Evidently I gained 4 inches on the band size (across my back) when I gave birth. 

Twenty-five years ago. 

Whatev. 

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Oh God Forbid

She:  How do you convince a man that what he's got is great, the real thing, the hot tamale?

He seems to be content with the way things are.   His house on the weekends, she spends the weekdays at her house.   He treats her great, they don't fight, things are good.  I personally think the status quo is just fine as long as sex is involved, but hey, that's me.

Me:  You fade away a bit, let him do the calling, making plans to spend time together.

She:  During harvest??!!

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Pepsi 400

The NASCAR race was on Saturday nite this last weekend, so I didn't get to see it, cause we had our own races going on locally at Noise Park.  Now that I have the Speed channel, I'll be able to catch a re-run sometime this week.  I shall take the Gordon picture even so.  Because I care and I'm loyal that way. 

Here's the track information.  Guess Gordon had a good day until he was wrecked in the last few laps of the race. 

Then that asshat Stewart won, climbed the fence like a fool, but even stupider, he went out into the crowd where he got mobbed by the fans.   "I don't know why I do half the stupid stuff I do," he said. "I really felt good at the end of the race until I got stupid and went up the flagstand."

Duh. 

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Have a Great 4th of July, Internet

Vamp

 

She looks so innocent

But she's winding up...

...to tease her brother, whom knows better. 

And she's all "Who me?". 

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