Me 'n My Laptop

This is me at Blogher in ... SAN FRANCISCO!!!

Loved Sizzle's idea - I'm about to go to a conference with 999 other people.  I am but a tadpole in the blogging world.  Not even a tadpole.  I'm just a gleam in the daddy frog's eye.

1. I bought new bras for this conference.  The straps don't slip.  This is BIG.  I mean, this is big news, not big boobs, unfortunately.
2. I love San Francisco with the passionate passion of a thousand suns.  I'm trying to move there.  For so many reasons. 
3. Due to an unreasonable fit of temper, I quit my TypePad blog, and started a new one with Blogger.  Which resulted in the longest URL in the history of Blogville.  I think it would be kinder to provide the link, Me 'n My Laptop, rather than show it on this page.  There's only so much room.  This also caused a big problem with getting my cards on time, but it is done.  I paid extra for fast shipping - 7 to 14 days.  They got here in THREE days.  I want my money back.
4. I blog about daily life with 4 pets, having Multiple Sclerosis, pretending I don't have MS, and daily pictures of the pets.  I'll get on that "daily" any day now.  I also take pictures of Volkswagon Bugs, and Hearts.
5. Some of my readers seem to believe my dogs can talk.  I have no idea why they think this. 
6. My Halfway Honey bought me my first laptop, cause he didn't want me to be the only one at a blogging conference without a laptop.  I will be the one tearing my hair out cause Vista doesn't act much like Windows ME at all. 
7. He's also paying for my private room.  See why I like San Francisco?  He lives there.
8. He's not the reason I want to move.  Prepare for some sick sick love for a city that's gonna drop into the ocean when the BIG ONE hits.  Oddly, I want to experience an earthquake.  Told you it's sick. 
9. I'm coloring my gray roots for this conference, and then I'm gonna let it go gray.  My younger sister has gorgeous gray hair, and mine will look the same.  Only better. 
10. I love my dogs.  Walking them got me healthy again.  Not walking them has got me over-weight again.  Damn dogs. 
11. I live in a tiny 4 room apartment.  Kitchen, living room, bedroom and bathroom.  I have 2 dogs, Muttin/Jeff, and 2 cats Barf 'n Hiney.  I have to be nice to the mean landlord because she lets me have all four. 

This is me.  Pre-Teeth.  I photo-chopped the Christmas tree hanging on the wall behind me.  The dogs won't be with me at Blogher08 in SAN FRANCISCO, so I may not stand out in the crowd of 1000 bloggers, but I'll work on shining the gleam in the daddy frog's eye.

However... I will be bringing my secret boyfriend ... it's time our secret was brought out in the open.  We'll be available for pictures. 

*

On getting a haircut tomorrow

Jeff:  Come on Mutt, quit being that way.

Muttin:  ...

Jeff:  She didn't mean it, she just meant that you need a haircut. 

Muttin: ... 

Jeff:  Frankly, I'm surprised you'd be insulted by being called a mangy mutt.  I thought you were tougher than that.

Muttin:  ...

Jeff:  Besides, why won't you talk to me, I didn't call you that!  I think you need to mature up some, don'tcha think?

Muttin:  ...

Jeff:  Cause of you, I'M gonna have to get a haircut too.  Thanks a bunch, sis.  You ARE more shaggy looking than I am ...

Muttin: ...

Jeff:  I'm going out for a drink.  She said she's gonna do the haircuts tomorrow, so I'm headed out for one more nite on the town before she makes me look like a drowned rat.  Hard to catch the ladies looking like that.  Wanna come?

Muttin:  ...

Jeff:  (thinking to himself)  Just once I'd like to win one of her silent treatment gigs.  She can be SUCH a bitch!

*

*

MS is stupid, but Jeffrey is cute

Today/tonite was frought with frustration.  Everything I touched, I either dropped it, dropped it, or dropped it.  Or I put it down and burned myself on it.  Then there was the tripping over everything I dropped.  And the tripping over things that have been in the same place forever. 

Walls and furniture seem to jump out at me.  When I turn around, I start to fall in the direction that I turned.  This running into everything is an odd sensation.  It feels as tho the floor comes up at me at a slant...  I'm not making sense.

I've got to move to somewhere that has a pain clinic. 

I saw auras around Jeffrey last nite.  Perhaps 2 nites of not sleeping would cause that? 

There's new symptoms going on. 

Sigh. 

*

We were stalked by an owl. Or the post that sucked Gosling in.

First I have to set the scene. In my effort to feel productive, I've been getting up by 8am for the last 3 mornings. This hasn't proven difficult at all, but about 5:30pm, but today I needed a nap. I set the alarm for 6pm, just wanting a tiny, short nap - a power nap.

Next thing I know, it's 10:00. I thought it meant 10am in the morning. I lay there for several minutes, disgusted with myself, telling myself I failed at my new plan to reform after just 3 days. Imagine my horror when I got up and it was DARK. Instead of thinking I'd overslept that nite and into the next morning, I thought I'd overslept that nite, into the next morning and into the NEXT night again!!

So to say I was disoriented is an understatement. If I said I was disoriented ALOT, it would still be an understatement.

The next horrified thought was the dogs hadn't been outside for... I had to pause my panicked disorientation to do the math... from 5:30pm yesterday to 10pm "today".... 28 hours!! Does anyone know how difficult math is when one is mathimatically challenged and had the grades to prove it, AND disoriented from taking a 28 hour long nap.  AND with MS???  I swear MS took any ability I had with using all versions of thinking with numbers.  Clocks included. 

The next problem was deciding what to wear when one is just GETTING UP at 10pm after a 28 hour nap. Regular daytime clothes or pajamas? While believing one's dogs haven't peed in 28 hours, which puts an element of HURRY into it?

Finally, I got outside with the dogs. Who oddly seemed more interested in the refrigerator than going outside after 28 hours of not peeing, which should have been my first clue. But I figured they must be disoriented too - they thought it was time for dinner. Which only makes sense, since supposedly they'd missed last nite's dinner and tonite's dinner was late. But still. One would think after not peeing for 28 hours, peeing would be priority. I certainly skipped my own need to pee, in my efforts to get them peed.  I'm sure I've mentioned MS giving me pee problems.  Peeing them first is how much I love my dogs.  The sacrifices I make. 

As I walked out to the field behind the apartment, wondering how in the hell I slept thru 3, yes THREE piercing cell phone alarms... one for waking up from the nap at 6pm, the wake-up alarm at 8am, AND the 3pm Physical Therapy alarm... I felt a WHOOOSH over my head. The kind of whooosh you can both hear and feel from the air rushing by. Muttin ran to my side, whining. Since I was still in Disoriented Hell, I didn't pay attention. As I continued to walk down the field, trying to justify a 28 hour nap, and wondering if I should report such a nap to someone medical, since I blame MS for everything wrong in my life - Muttin continued to whine. Eventually I saw something out of the corner of my eye, above us, flying to the top of a telephone pole. The moon was bright, and with it reflecting off the snow, it was bright enough to see that it was a HUMONGOUS owl.

From the time of the first whooosh to the time of seeing the owl was the length of 3 telephone poles. I kept walking, watching both Muttin and the owl. That owl flew ahead to the next telephone pole. I stopped dead in my tracks, and called Jeffrey to me. This whole time, Muttin hadn't left my side and hadn't stopped whining. Now normally, I am Miss Facinated by Every Single Move My Dogs Make, since they are so adorable, and would have noticed out of the norm behavior, but did I mention my 28 hour nap? I realized Muttin knew all about that owl, from the first whooosh to the 3rd telephone pole.

I started walking again, cause I didn't want that owl to mistake me for a tree, rather than the Protecter of My Dogs, and I figured walking was the best way to show the owl that I wasn't a tree, because being a tree would make it okay to swoop down and grab a dog by it's wicked talons. Notice how danger sharpened my previously disoriented mind... I knew the word for owl's feet.

As we continued to walk, that owl flew ahead AGAIN to the next telephone pole. It didn't care about my Walking to Prove I Wasn't a Tree impression. It was biding it's time. It was stalking us. 

I tried to remember everything that I'd learned about owls, and realized it was next to nothing. The two things I did remember created a quandry. 1. They were wise, and 2. they had good eyesight. I recalled something about radar senses, but I think that's for bats.  And I wondered if they had a good sense of smell, cause that would sure be nice if they did, cause surely then it would smell the Human Protecting The Dog Meat, therefore, it would be stupid to do any more whoooshing anywhere near me and the dogmeat dogs.  So the quandry I settled on was, if wise, surely it knew better than to do anymore whoooshing and/or if owls have such good eyesight, surely it saw that my dogs were too big for it's wicked talons. Right?

Or maybe, God forbid, in the things that I didn't know about owls, when I was supposedly learning about owls, IF I ever did learn about owls, and had forgotten everything I ever knew about owls, not knowing that someday I'd be stalked by an owl AND my lack of eyeglasses for my own poor eyesight, maybe it was bigger than I thought, even tho it already was humongously, freakishly LARGE.

Jeffrey was scampering around like a carefree dog who didn't know he could be ate up at any moment, so I called him near, picked him up, and marched us home, the length of 5 telephone poles.  Singing loudly, "Ahunting we will go, ahunting we will go, hi ho, the derry-o, a hunting we will go". Probably not the best song under the circumstances, but you try to find an appropriate song when you need a motivational marching in deep snow while being stalked by a man dog killer in the middle of the nite type of song.  While disoriented by MS and a 28 hour nap. 

Normally, it's Muttin I have to pick up, since she is the rebel and will take off running, but she was still glued to my heels. In fact, she was so glued, she kept tripping me, her own version of kamakazi games she normally plays on her brother, throwing herself cutely under his feet.  Which made for 2 falls into the 8 inch crusty snow with Not a Care in the World Jeffrey in my arms.  Who would scamper off between falls, putting himself in unknown to him, danger.  Dumb dog. 

We got all home safe and sound, where I finally realized that my nap had been from 5:30pm to 10pm of the same day, it wasn't the next day after all.  My brain hurt. 

I fed the dogs.  I decided to have oatmeal for dinner, just to play games with my head some more. 

As I ate the oatmeal, I went to the Internet to find where I could report a humongous freakishly large owl who stalks people and their dogs. I'm convinced it's a mutant and needs to be turned in to the proper authorities to be studied. Or at the very least, put in jail a zoo. 

Amazingly enough, there wasn't much to find about Idaho owls. There is a guy doing research on voles, lichen populations, and voles use of lichen. This makes perfect sense, how owl research turned into vole's eating habits, as one would think voles are a owl's natural diet, rather than dogs. So to know about voles eating lichen seems vitally important. Lichen being the mossy green stuff on trees and rocks. I think.  As always, with the Internet, lack of knowledge on one subject just leads to lack of knowledge about another and I wasn't about to look up lichen. I was determined to keep my vole in check. (Vole being a kind of mouse.  Not the mouse that does the clicking all over the Internet). Tell me how funny I am.

For the first time since feeding my dogs raw chicken, which is a whole nuther story involving Jeffrey's anal glands, I relished the sound of doggie jaws crunching on raw chicken bones. Normally, I cringe. And have bad dreams about bone splinters rupturing their little tummies. But tonite, I said "Take THAT, you damn chicken, who's got to be related to damn owls!"

And to think, not too long ago, I've had communion with wolves and ravens, as totems. At another time, I would have seen this owl as a sign of some sort, a message to my life. Ha! From here on out, let it be known that owls are my enemy, and I shall speak to no owls. Or listen. Ever. I'll use my own damn wisdom thankyouverymuch.

Maybe researching owls who eat voles who eat lichen will lead to a cure for MS. What other reason can there be for actual dollars being spent on such a study???

*

This, That and The Other Thing

Yesterday was day one for the marathon training.  Let's just agree right here and now that when I say "marathon", I'm doing HALF a marathon, but it seems so time consuming to write "half marathon" all the time.  Mmmm k?

...

Well, now I feel all hoity toity.  Pretentious. 

Yesterday was day one for the 1/2 marathon training. 

3 min warm-up, 30 minutes semi-fast walking, 2 min cool down.  Done.  More like 40 minutes.  My sister can testify that I was out there in the blustery elements, keeping my commitment.  I already feel better.  Speaking of which ...

Me:  Muttin, you're fat.

Muttin:  Kettle black much?  Who gained 4 pounds last week, hmmm?

Me:  That would be me, but it was my last hurray before the training starts.  As you well know, since I TOLD you that. 

Muttin:  When did you tell me that?

Me:  Every time you stared at me as I walked into the kitchen, remember?

Muttin:  No, I didn't hear you.  You know you need to make eye contact with me when you say something.  Don't all the dog books tell you that?  Doesn't your good friend, Cesar Melan explain to you the importance of eye contact?

Me:  Well, actually, he says that any dog that makes sustained eye contact with their master is believing they're the top dog, Missy. 

Muttin:  I only do that cause you confuse me and I'm trying to figure you out.  I only WISH you would take charge so that I can rest for a change. 

Me:  Yea, right. 

Muttin:  Yea, right. 

Me:  Don't mock me.  Anyways, to get back to it, you're fat and you're going to work out with me. 

Muttin:  What about Jeffrey?

Me:  He goes too, but typically, he's not fat.  That's just the way of Mother Nature, sweetie.  We females eat the same thing the males do, and we get fat.

Muttin:  Why is that?

Me:  I dunno.  Something about making babies maybe.  I seem to remember reading something about that.

Muttin:  Well, I wouldn't know about that, now would I?  Seeing as how you took it upon yourself to make it so I couldn't have babies.

Me:  I'm a responsible pet owner - that's what I'm supposed to do.  Don't tell me you want puppies!?  You don't have a nurturing bone in you body!

Muttin:  Perhaps it was taken away from me along with my ovaries?  Have you ever wondered why I have attitude, hmmm?

Me:  . . .

Muttin:  There ya go. 

Me:  Lordy.  I don't know why I even try.  It always seems like I'm on a sinking ship and you're the only one with a life jacket when we have these little talks.

M:uttin:  (Snorts)

*****

Today's training is 30 minutes of cross training, which means either weight-lifting or Pilate's, or yoga.  I haven't decided what I'll be doing, but it'll be reported on tomorrow.  You have to help me be accountable, Internet.  And readers.

Ben invited me to come visit him in San Diego again, and said something about going to a wild animal park.  So I have to figure out the dog situation again - Cowinky is having surgery, and the lady that helped last time too, is moving out. 

SFM was supposed to come home to San Francisco yesterday, but missed his plane.  I was wide awake all night last nite, so we talked half the night away, while he waited the 16 or so hours at the JFK airport for the next flight.  I guess this not being able to sleep is good for something once in awhile. 

I came up with this BRILLIANT idea on how to focus myself to one task at a time, rather than flitting from one to another as if I were a beautiful butterfly with no time on my hands, and all the time in the world to get things done. 

Well, to be truthful, I DO have time on my hands, and all the time in the world.  Which translates into me seeming to believe I can always "do it tomorrow".  Therefore, never getting anything done.  Or during the times of no pain, I get overwhelmed with what to do first and become stuck with doing nothing cause it's too confusing.

In an effort to solve this problem, I wrote the projects I want to do on little pieces of paper, and put them in a bowl on the coffee table.  Pink slips of paper mean that task needs to be done right away.  I cut up strips of paper, so that it's easy to grab when I remember things I want to do.  So far, this has been working really well, mostly for my focusing problem.  I'm not allowed to pick up an new piece of paper out of the bowl till the one in my hand is done.  And I keep the current project/slip of paper on the refrigerator.  Of all the methods I've tried to do to help me remember and be organized, this one has worked.  Partly because I LOVE the green bowl. 

So the current task is writing my training schedule down on the calendar, so I don't have to check out the website every day.  Cause once I get on line, I'm done for in productivity terms.  Damn Internet. 

One of the projects that I'm so excited about is putting my things for sale using Etsey.  I've got denim purses that I make out of a pair of jeans, the fuzzy quilts, Christmas bread ornaments, and Spider Doorway Blockers.  I think the Etsey project will be tomorrow's project.

Must go now. 

A Tail of Poo

I recently found the blog, "The Confessions of a Pioneer Woman", who writes about living on a ranch, her kids, her cowboy husband ... and she also has a cooking blog.  Plus she's funny.  She wrote in one post about 'Most Embarrassing Moments', with over 2000 comments from people telling their most embarrassing moments.  It was a contest some time ago, and it's over, but the comments are still there.  Here.  Someone won a Wii. 

Having not slept all nite, I read the majority of the comments.  What I'm wondering is ... is there something cold-hearted about me that I really don't think most of the embarrassing situations are embarrassing?  I'm a little worried as to what that might mean. 

As always, reading other blogs intimidates me - making me think I can't possibly measure up.  I must stop that.  I write for therapy and memory/journaling purposes.  Someday, my son might care to really know me and how I roll. 

Speaking of how I roll, while playing cards the other day, the subject of dog poops came up.  Of course it did.  Doesn't it come up for you when you're playing cards?  As some of you know, I used to be the Poop Police around here.  There's one particular person who doesn't pick up her dog's poop.  I had seen her earlier in the day, with her dog out front ... pooping. 

It's one thing not to pick them up in the back courtyard, but not picking them up in the front yard is much worse.  People SEE and walk out front.  I had been under the impression that the Non Poopy Picker Upper Lady had been gone for the last month.  Someone said they had heard the landlady telling NPPUL that together, they would go out on Monday to pick up dog poops. 

Her dog's face is hidden in order to protect the innocent.  Miss Non Poopy Picker Upper would sue me, I'm sure, should I expose her dog's face.  Plus ... it's not Maggie's fault ... it's not like SHE can pick up her own poops.  (Pic taken last summer cause the landlady said she couldn't do anything about it, unless she had PROOF.) 

I haven't picked up dog poops all winter.  My dogs go in the corner that her dog goes in - and it's quite disgusting.  The picture below was taken at the BEGINNING of winter ... so imagine how it is now. 

Want me to go take another picture?  Maybe I shouldn't.  These are HER dog's poopies - I was still picking ours up at that point.  But when the snow flew - I just decided if SHE doesn't have to pick them up, then neither do I.  Cause I'm so mature that way. 

Being under the impression that the NPPU had been gone all month, I said that I would have to go out on Monday too - to pick up poopies also, since it was my dogs who'd been pooping all winter in that corner - the corner the landlady is assuming NPPU's dog goes.  That it was only fair that I helped.  Well, the 3 other ladies JUMPED down my throat, telling me to mind my own business - that as far as the landlady knew, it was NPPU's doggie poops, and it was HANDLED.  I explained that it was MY doggie poops in that corner tho.  Again, they snarled at me.  Old biddies.  Finally I said "That's not how I roll".  I will be responsible for my share of dog poopies, thankyouverymuch.  They all looked at me quizzically.  "That's not how I roll" is too young of a statement evidently. 

Anyways.  Guess what I'm doing on Monday? 

Picking up after the two poopers.  Yes, they're both going at the same time.  On the leash.  Never happened before.  Thank DOG I had my camera, huh. 

That is all. 

*

So much for asking about her

Me:  Dogs, someone asked about you in the comments today. 

Jeffrey:  Oh, that's nice.  It's nice that people think of us, don't you think Muttin?

Muttin:  Who was it?

Me:  TC

Muttin:  Oh, the one that babysat us, and caused me all that trouble?  Gee, that's sooo nice of her.  What... is she on a witch hunt again? 

Me:  Be nice Mutt.  Just because you got caught doesn't mean you have to be ugly about it.  It's not becoming to a dog of your stature.  (cough cough)

Muttin:  What are you coughing about? 

Me:  Oh nothing.

Me:  Goodness, do you actually look ashamed, Muttin?

Muttin:  Scuse me?  You just weren't fast enough with the camera to catch the rolling of the eyes.

.

Aha!

I had an epiphany today while watching the handyman snow-blow a path around the courtyard and around the building.  Earlier, I had been outside in the parking lot, sweeping 8 inches of freshly fallen snow off the parked cars.  I did the same thing yesterday, only about 6 inches.  While doing so, I reflected within that I really enjoyed doing so - the sun was bright, the snow wasn't too heavy, and I knew most of the owners of the cars were either old, on walkers, in wheelchairs and they would appreciate it.  I get true joy out of doing for them, because I know how it feels to not be able to do things.  And it truly feels sooo good to be able to do it myself again.  On my good days.  To be thankful for the good days, I do for others. 

Regarding moving to next door town, for the purpose of being 3-4 blocks closer to the river, where there is a walking path going around the river, and it's plowed in the winter = safe walking. 

1.  Cats will be exposed to much more traffic, neighbors, other cats, etc.  They have back door patios, and my cats would be a bother.  Here, they pretty much have the run of the courtyard, and they bother no-one cause no-one goes out there very much.  We don't have outdoor acess to the courtyard.  They have the garden area to hunt mice, should they decide to become more like cats, rather than dogs.  They are safe from traffic. 

2.  The Curves in town is clear across town.  Here, there is a gym about 2 blocks away, and my walking route goes right next to it during the summer.  During the winter, the roads are slippery and dangerous. 

Our apartment handyman had a snow blower today, and he made a path around the courtyard, and around the building.  The snow is 2 feet deep back there.  It took the visual for me to realize that is all I need - keep a damn path cleared and I don't have to move away.  I HAVE to walk.  I've gained 15 pounds back, and I could care less about living again, and I KNOW walking will fix that. 

So, tomorrow, I am going to ask the landlady if she will commit to making a "sidewalk" for me in the winter, AND keep the garden area as a garden (she wants to plant grass), then I will stay here.  I couldn't ask for a better place for my animals.  The other issue was not being able to have bird/squirrel feeders.  She told the new guy that he could have one.  Hmmm. 

The other place (I'm next on the list to be called and someone is going to a nursing home, so it's close) allows 1 small pet.  I know I can get the two dogs approved, but the cats are iffy.  I TRIED not to get attached, but damn.  I am attached.  We are a family of five. 

As this epiphany was happening, I realized to what extent I've put my life on hold, because I have been planning to move for 3 years now.  San Francisco is going to be years, I'm afraid.  Unless I simply just go with no net underneath ... I'm not saying that I'm giving up - absolutely not.   

Also, the new guy that moved in whom has so much in common with me?  He and I have been walking together, and it's soooooo nice to have someone closer to my age around here that doesn't need help.  Plus the fact that he's not boyfriend material is a good thing, cause we don't have that "thing" that complicates boy/girl relationships.  He is an avid gardener too, and it will be soooo nice to have HELP out there, rather me being the one that does the majority of the physical work.  Al tho the in common stuff is starting to get creepy.  We both drive same year/make of car, we both used to drive Ford Explorers.  We were both molested by fathers, and babysitters.  We both used to work for Club Inc.  We both used to have the same counselor.  He sees auras and visions, as I do.  Oh.  Get this.  He collects hearts.  Yea ... like I said ...creepy. 

Anyways.  I am peaceful once again inside.  I'll join Snap Fitness again, and start living like I live here, instead of mentally packing up and jumping ship.  After moving furniture a couple weeks and making a walk-in closet, I have really been liking my apartment too. 

SanFranMan is obsessed by politics lately.  He really likes Hillary, to the point of imagining he and her have a personal relationship.  All in his mind.  He's been calling me every nite, and we argue about politics, and he talks about his daughter alot cause he's worried about her, and then we argue about Hillary and Obama some more.  I originally liked Obama, but ever since Hillary showed her human side a couple weeks ago, showing how exhausted she is, I have come to like her better than Obama.  He just doesn't have the experience, and she can hit the ground running, should she be elected.  Our country is finally accepting the fact that a woman can be president ... and it's a HUGE plus that the first woman president (possibly) just happens to have the best experience one could ask for ... she was a First Lady 7 years ago.  It's good Obama inspires and dreams - our country has hope again, I think.  Either one, tho, is better than any of the other contenders, and I'm pretty sure we'll have a Democratic president this time around.  Ideally?  Clinton and Obama on the same ticket.  Then 8 years for Clinton, and another 8 years for Obama ... just might fix the majority of our country's problems.  Medical insurance, the war, illegal aliens, the recession, Medicare being the top priorities.  Oh, and rebuilding our status as the greatest country in the world ...

I can't believe I veered off so much off the Epiphany Course. 

*

Just Call Me

Could she JUST SHUT UP?

*

Muttin and her attitude

Muttin:  What's that.  Another contraption?

Me:  A laptop computer.

Jeffrey:  (with a worried look)  It sits on your lap?

Me:  Yup

Muttin:  Where will I sit now?

Me:  Hmmm, thats true, you're always jumping on my lap, aren't you?

Muttin:  You're on your way to ignoring us the same way you did SonOne when he was a teenager, and you just discovered the Internet.  Thought you had regrets about that.  Guess not. 

Me:  Listen, you little bitch, I've about had it from you.  GO LAY DOWN RIGHT NOW.

Muttin:  Wow, that's the first time you've ever yelled at me in caps.

Me:  Go.  Right.  Now.

Jeffrey:  (goes to lay down, and looks at Muttin pleadingly to do as she's asked before I get madder, because he's her conscience)

Me:  Muttin, how about this - you can come sit in my lap when I'm on the toilet.  How bout that?  It's all you deserve really.

Muttin:  I beg your pardon?  Seems like that would make me the worst kind of attention whore. 

Me:  As opposed to a ... lap dog?

*

Just Call Me the Translator

.

The Cats in the Household

So I'm going the laptop route.  Windows 98, slower than molasses in January, but oh well.  I wanted the laptop so I could write when the mood struck, and not be tethered to the wall where the electricity lives.

My eyes are doing the focusing camera thing.  In and out of focus for periods of 5 to 10 minutes.  Course .. not that a camera that took 5 to 10 minutes to focus would be a good thing.  I need to sit down when it's happening.  Have not heard of this particular symptom, but I'm sure it's MS related. 

Mdmhvonpa suggests that I use "Wifi", since I don't have the Internet.  Whatever that is.  There was a time back in my olden days when I could have used a wifi, since the husbands couldn't seem to be bothered with the dishes or the laundry. 

Look at that.  "Husbands".  Just how many did I have, hmmm?  ONLY TWO.

I must admit that it's nice mdmhvonpa seems to keep forgetting that I'm hitting the big Five Oh.  People who are hitting that number consider themselves advanced with the Internet sitting on top of a desk next to a keypad.  Wifi is a bit beyond us. 

So the dilemma about the pet door?  There's a fence around the yard, but little dogs can go under the fence.  The fact that Wheelie has a Chihuahua and still she put in a fence that doesn't contain little dogs is beyond me.  That fact and no Internet has sent me over the edge with stress.  Well, that and wrangling all these animals. 

I had hoped my kittens would not discover the Great Outdoors at this house.  They've been outside only 2 times at home, and that was with my constant presence to guard their precious little asses. 

So the pet door situation quickly went to hell.  I discovered Jeffrey giving the kittens lessons on how to go in and out the flap.  Literally.  Both kittens were sitting on their haunches, staring at the back door.  I thought they were just dreaming of the possibilities.  Then it dawned on me that I had been hearing somebody going in and out of the pet door for quite some time.  So I paid attention.  That damn Jeffrey was going in and out, in and out, and walking up to the kittens, touching noses, as if he were saying "Come on, guys, it's easy". 

I think he feels bonded with the kittens cause they're both male.  It helps him feel more secure ... what with Muttin being the Boss of All.

So once they mastered the pet door, KitKat took it from there.  He showed them that leaves blowing on the ground are not Kitten Eaters, and how much fun it is to jump out from under a big tarp when someone walks by.  Prior to this, my kittens had given KitKat a wide berth, respecting the fact that they were in his territory?  But now?  They're all chasing each other like kids in a daycare.  All I can say is KitKat better not lead them astray.  It's bad enough he's teaching them how to be cats. 

*

Just Call Me Irritated

.

Martinsville

Today's race is at Martinsville Speedway in Virginia.

I'm in no mood to blog today, as I've discovered I've been duped.  There is no Internet at Wheely's house.  She hasn't learned her computer or Internet yet, so it looks like she quit paying the bill in August. 

And she KNOWS that I agreed to babysit her kitten, thinking I could do my blogging from there.  She KNOWS that I expected it to be there.  Grrrrr.

Gordon and Johnson are dominating the race.  161 laps to go, and Gordon is leading.  I think he's lead in laps too. 

I'm here at home, hurrying over so I could post the picture because I know how much YOU ALL appreciate it.

Fine, figures my mother would rat me out.  Sis is only 45.  She just ACTS like the older sister. 

Coming soon.  A blog about ring tones.  Owls.  Boys.  I guess at my age, I should use 'men' instead of 'boys'.  USE men?!  Hahahaha.  I so funny.  Me using them, rather than being used - that's a switch.  We're all grown-ups here, tho, right?  Of course right. 

I took Barf & Hiney to Wheely's house, and they're doing just fine.  It's not as frustrating as I thought it would be - that pet door. 

Her kitten, KitKat, can get thru, but my dogs are blocked.  Barf and Hiney have no idea what a pet door is, so at this point they haven't discovered it yet.  They spook easy, so the washer and dryer right next to the door is pretty handy for scaring them out of the laundry room.  KitKat growls at my kittens, and they just look at him like "hmmmm ... we'd play if you'd play".  They LOVE all the space - the favorite past-time so far is racing me down the hall every time I walk down it.  That and watching all the bird feeders out the windows.  Wait till I refill the squirrel feeders - maybe I catch it with the camera.

Muttin with frosting on her nose this morning.  Somebody spilled cake in the parking lot. 

Trying to lick it off before anybody sees her.  It's embarrassing to have frosting on your nose, thankyouverymuch.

The 52-inch Plasma TV?  Makes everyone look wide.  As in fat.  Fat faces especially. 

* 

Just Call Me Pissed Off for The Next Two Weeks
.

Too tired to Title

Last nite I was glad that I couldn't sleep. 

I might have missed Jeffrey choking to death. 

Muttin said she needed to go outside about 2am last nite, (she lied, all she did was go a few steps and sniff the tree).  Jeffrey went around the corner to his favorite tree, and I can't see him from the door.  He's the good dog, tho, and he always comes back.  When he came in, he RAN to the bed, which was unusual for him.  I put away a couple of things in the kitchen.  All of a sudden, Jeffrey was slamming himself into me legs, trying to get my attention.  He was choking.

He was pawing at his face and sucking for air, and his eyes were panicky - it was horrible to see.  I started looking for my phone, and walked around in circles cause I didn't know what to do.  I looked down his throat and saw something brown, but I was afraid if I tried to get it, I'd push it further down.  Then I got confused, thinking wasn't that what I wanted to do ... push it down into his stomach?  Uh.  NO.  Then I thought the least I could do was hold him while he was dying.  By picking him up, I suddenly remembered the Heimlich Maneuver.  I've done it on 2 babies and a little girl at K-Mart, but a dog? 

I laid him on his side, braced one hand on his back, and the other under his rib cage, convinced if he didn't die from choking, I'd kill him by squashing his kidneys or something else important.  But he had gone limp when I picked him up, so I finally pushed sharply upwards.  It worked after the 3rd time.

Then I emailed SFM cause he's the only person I know who can't sleep at nite either, but just in case it WAS a night he fell asleep - I didn't want to risk waking him up. Plus he's been a somewhat ass lately.  Jeffrey was acting all happy and chipper, so we went to bed.  With my heart racing.  Couldn't sleep.  Then I remembered VetMan was in town.  And he wanted to get together, but I'd been avoiding it cause of the MS.  What better time than 4am in the morning after a doggy medical emergency!  It's easily understandable why the MS was flaring, can we say S. T. R. E. S. S.?  Right?  Of course right. 

So I called him, scaring him half to death cause I started crying my face off.  So we talked, but I kept lapsing into tears here and there, then we said goodbye.  Next thing I know, he's at the door!  He said it was important that he check Jeffrey out and make sure I hadn't damaged any internal organs.  Inside my head I thought uh huh.  But I was glad he did that and I was glad for the company. 

It was nice to just lay in bed, being held.  On top of the covers cause I can't stand sheets or blankets on my feet.  In my flannel pajama pants, and sweatshirt.  Which he can thank his lucky stars I had just changed into.  Something about saving a dog's life brought the sweat out of me.  Charming. 

The weight of a loss or potential loss weighed heavy on me, and it was SUCH a relief not to be alone right then. 

I teased him for about one minute about using my traumatized dog as an excuse to come over for about a minute, and then I fell asleep almost immediately.  A couple hours later, I woke up, sat up, called for Jeffrey, and went right back to sleep holding him.  Jeffrey.  Not VetMan.   I didn't hear him leave, but he left me a Dear Jane note.  Some silly thing about being replaced by a dog.  Maybe I'll get his permission to post it.

*Just Call Me a Life Saver
.

Update:  I researched Doggy Heimlich on Google.  Turns out it IS important for dogs to be seen by the vet immediately.   Specially little dogs. 

FINE!
.

Oh, and it was a round dog treat that he eats several times a day that he choked on.  I had thought at first it was a piece of bark, cause he had just been outside when it happened.  It flew across the room, and I found it this morning.  I already have to mixed kitty kibble with canned cat food and warm water when they eat.  And the dog's chicken requires bagging 2 pieces in a baggie, freezing, and then unthawing.  Now I have to cut his treats in half? 

These animals - they're gonna give me gray hair. 
. 

I hear voices

This started out as my Sappy Sunday post for the week, but then I was interrupted.  Notice anything about this picture?  Look closely.  The round, black balls are magnets, btw. 
.
.
.
.
.

Me:  Slamming magnets around, doing the obsessive playing with them that I do.  I love playing with these things.  I had my camera ready so I could take the heart picture when all of a sudden I heard:

Voice:  "Three"*

Me:  Huh?  (As I look at the dogs sitting next to me)

Me:  I continue to play with magnets, which make a satisfying clink, clank, bang noises, but most people don't like the racket.

Voice:  Please hold.

Ring, ring, ring.

Me:  (Thinking in my head)  Hmmm, sounds like a phone is ringing.

Me:  Wait ... I'm not ringing anyone.  (Still in my head)

Me:  I look around for the voice, but not wholeheartedly, mostly cause I thought it was all in my head, and that the phone was in the bathroom, where I used it last.

Voice:  Hi, this is muffled muffle, mumble mumble, and I'll get back to you.

Me:  Hmmm ... that sound vaguely familiar ...

Me:  Continue banging magnets trying to remember where I bought them cause I want some more, but also look at the TV to see if that's where the voice is coming from.

Beeeeep.

Me:  Whaaa?

Me:  (I stand up to see if I'm sitting on my phone, cause now I thing I'm going nuts.  I KNOW I hear somebody's voice in here, and it's NOT in my head)

Muttin:  (Starts laughing hysterically) 

Me:  (Glare at her)

Muttin:  Jeffrey's butt is talking.

Me:  Huh?

Muttin:  Jeffrey's. Butt. Is. Talking.

Me:  Jeffrey?  Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh ...

Uh huh.  My phone was set on "speaker" so I could hear it, all right.  The phone's showing now, cause I moved it for picture taking purposes, but it was pretty much under his butt enough that I couldn't see it, lit up or not.  Not a pleasant feeling, hearing voices not in your head, knowing you're alone.

*Three is SFM's shortcut number.  Press 3, and it dials him.  I called him back to tell him what happened on his voicemail, and I thought it was funny, cept I don't imagine the banging of the magnets was too amusing. 

But the good news?  Now there's proof that the dogs talk.  Cause surely SFM will save the message Jeffrey's butt sent him with Muttin voice saying in the background "Jeffrey's butt is talking"...

*

Just Call Me Not Insane After All

.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it

Md of White Lightning Axiom: Redux writes about how he's not blogging to his own satisfaction lately.  He speaks of how one of his regular "features" has fallen by the wayside lately, and has had requests to revive it. 

I too, have received emails as to "Where are the dogs, and what have you done to them?"  It seems the dog chats were the favorite posts in my blog, regardless of how crazy it makes me look.  No one seems to CARE about THAT fact ... who cares about my reputation, as long as ya'll get to read the dog chats, right?!  Hmph.

For the record, the dogs aren't talking and haven't been since the kitties moved in.  I think it's safe to say they're mad at me.  Not only for the kitties, but for leaving them home when I went to San Francisco.  They did talk some when we all went to Reno, but I wasn't anywhere near a computer, so I didn't document the conversations.  Something about how they liked the kids tho - and about what an ass Duke was to travel with.  Lordy, he was not a good traveler.  I am VERY surprised that they haven't complained about being boarded in a kennel for 2 days.  I would think that would be a font of spewing, but then again ... I'm afraid to even ask, as it may open the floodgates to a personal hell of having to listen to it. 

And there is this.  I found myself telling Duke to "Stop whining!  Use your words!" this morning, when he wanted outside and whined, rather than bring me his tennis ball with his "go potty now" look. 

*
Just Call Me Doing the Best I Can With The Material I Have
.

Pictures on the River in Reno

Now that I've got enough meds in me to kill an elephant seal, I feel better and can write.  Altho I have nothing that comes to the surface of my brain to write about - so it's free-form today, just to get back in the swing of blogging and unload all the miscellany. 

Speaking of blogging, SFM says when he asks what I'm doing, and I say "I'm blogging", he kind of snickers and says it sounds like I need to ...

Hmmm.  I cannot believe I don't remember what he said.  Cause it was funny.  Maybe he'll read and fill us in.  Cause it was funny.  Or maybe it was dirty.

Last nite, at 10pm, I was out on the patio, throwing the damn tennis ball, in hopes that Duke would quit whining inside.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw this.  When I walked the dogs this morning, shorts and a t-shirt were not enough - it was cold.  Tis the season for hobo's and sweatshirts.  As I pulled on a sweatshirt, I thought of the weather in San Francisco.  One must always take a sweater with them.  It irritates the hell out of me when SFM reminds me to take something warm with me, cause I'm not used to it - it's either hot or cold in Idaho, and one knows what to wear in the morning.  Thinking ahead to what to wear later on is beyond me - it's too much time and it's confining my free spirit.  Yea, that's it. 

Anyways, I love sweatshirts. So San Francisco is the perfect place for me. 

I called the doctor to get a referral for an arthritis specialist.  Word is that it takes 3 months to get an appointment.  Hopefully he can use the current MRI's and I don't have to do another one.

In Reno, we took the dogs to the river so the kids could play with them.  Mostly the kids played in the water, and so did the dogs.  Well, Duke did ... in his usual manner.

Muttin could take it or leave it.  She'll follow me anywhere, water included. 

Jeffrey, however, doesn't like it one bit.  He's out there under protest and only because he's so obedient. He's damn slow about it, but eventually he comes to my "Get over here RIGHT NOW". 

I was sitting out in the river on a rock while taking these pictures.

SFM's son was on the other side of the river, climbing over the rocks, trying to get up the nerve to swim across to where we were.  I have a series of pictures that came out so clear - I wish I could post them.  Unfortunately, he chose to finally swim across when SFM was taking my picture, so I had to smile and all that crap - I missed the big event that I had really kinda been worried about.  But he made it!   It was worrisome cause even Duke had a hard time with the current.

His daughter was absolutely charmed by  Muttin/Jeff.  As she should have been.  :-)

*

Just Call Me Stoic

. 

There's something in the water

I took the dogs to the lake yesterday, and had a frightful time with Muttin.  Darling Muttin. 

First, she was a delight.  She wants so bad to play in the water the way Duke does, but she's scared to go over her head.  Her excitement, tho, will often bring her out to the deep, despite herself.  Yesterday was the first day she actually did some swimming, and she is of the belief that the more splashing - the higher the chance of survival.  It's quite hilarious cause she's flapping her front legs more in the air than in the water.  And I am the island that is going to save her from drowning, only she's splashing so much that I keep moving away from her, which causes more frantic splashing from her. 

She realized right away that getting on the lounger would also save her and she climbed right in and sat down, so proud of herself.  She got the lounger and I hung off the side.  For her sake. 

Jeffrey does not like the water, but I made him swim yesterday anyways.  He swam properly, with feet underwater, and just skimming the surface in a circle around me, on the leash.  That was enough for him, and I didn't force the issue. 

When he was swimming, he headed for shore.  When she swam, she headed for me.  It's quite touching ... how she trusts me.  Little Miss Priss Diva that she is.

That was the good part of the story.  After she was done swimming, she disappeared on shore while I floated on the lounger for awhile.  I got out of the water, and she came running.  All of a sudden, she yelped and started to rub her face in the sand.  She was stung by a bee.  She dug in the ground and covered herself in sand.  Then she went to lay down in the shade.  I started gathering up stuff so we could leave when I heard her throwing up.  A huge amount of something pukey.  Then she just lay there, panting really fast.  And then slow.  After about 5 shallow breaths, she would lift her head and suck in air as if she couldn't get any. 

I gathered up our stuff and went to the car, calling Duke and Jeffrey.  Duke ignored me, not caring one whit that Muttin was possibly dying - he had his tennis ball in the water, therefore he was in heaven.  Where Muttin may very well have been on her way.  I had to put a leash on Duke in order to get him into the car, causing more delay.  Muttin tried to drag herself to the car, but she'd fall down and lay down her head, doing the freaky sucking for air thing.  Jeffrey also ignored me when I called him, he was hovering over Muttin.  When I picked her up, she was completely limp, which totally freaked me out at that point.  I kept my hand on her stomach while I drove, wondering if I could give her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, considering what she had just vomited.  I stopped at the apartment to drop Duke and Jeffrey off so they wouldn't have to sit in the hot car while we were at the veterinarians.  When I came back to the car, Muttin was breathing better, so I debated whether we really needed to go to the vet.  Eventually, I picked her up and carried her to the apartment, where I laid her down on the couch.  She commenced to looking pitiful, but better. 

Then Duke and I went back to the lake to get his collar and a towel that I'd left behind while she had been doing her dying diva thing.  Only to recover after a frantic 20 minutes of getting her and everything else home.  So Duke and I went swimming for a couple more hours, so my heart could calm down.  Damn dog.  I swear she shaved 10 years off my life.  (Which would make me pregnant at age 60, rather than 50.  IF I am, in fact, pregnant) (Now that I've got everyone worrying about that, btw).

I floated out on the lounger, and Duke would get upset if I went out too far, and swim out and around me, back to shore.  It took me a couple of times before I realized he wanted me to grab on to him, so he could take me back to land.  Maybe he does love me after all. 

Hmmm... now that I think about it ... did he turn me into his tennis ball by fetching me?

This morning, while over at Wheelie's, mowing the grass next to the canal, I fell in.  Over my head.  People who barely even know me - know I don't do water over my head.  I'm scared of water cause water makes you drown.  I did not drown because Duke jumped in after me and dragged me back up the bank, nearly rendering me naked in the process, and also nearly drowning me because he grabbed hold of the front collar of my shirt, which made me flat on my back in only about 3 feet of water and I was trying to stand up while he was trying to keep me flat in the water, and then he'd drop me halfway up the bank, and I'd slip back down.  We were a comedy of errors, he and I.  Maybe he hates me after all.

Hmmm...  now that I think about it ... maybe he was teasing me the same way he teases the tennis ball ...dunking me the same way he dunks the tennis ball, teasing it, daring it to get too far away and then snatches it, only to let it go again...

.

.

.

.

.

And then, today, as I took a shower ... I forgot to take off my clothes.  My mind was preoccupied with the fact that Tony Stewart won the NASCAR race, and I was totally disgusted.  Junior blew his engine, Jeff got third, and I don't remember what happened to Jimmie Johnson. 

Too much wet for one girl. 

*

Just Call Me Wet

.

I'll bet you didn't know that not only do dogs talk, but they can read your words in the air

Asked in the previous post - yes, the teeth were damaged.  I had to be at the dentist at 7:30am this morning to get them repaired.  Seems it's not unheard of that dogs chew on dentures ...  I'm glad I'm not alone in having a denture eating dog.  A damn denture eating dog.  Me and her had a talk.   

Me:  Muttin, you've GOT to start being a good little girl dog.  You've got a bad reputation, you know.  First, you run away.  Then you hump on your brother more than he humps on you.  And then you jump on the kitchen counters and eat the cat food that I've forgotten to put away. 

Muttin:  (Watching curiously above one side of her head)

Me:  (Then it dawns on me ... she's watching my words go in one of her ears and out the other).

Muttin:  Do you think when you write about this, you could give me some thought bubbles with my clever thoughts in them?

Me:  No.  Because then I'd have to be the one to type those words, and you don't deserve such cooperation from me.  You're in TROUBLE FOR CHEWING MY TEETH!  Until I get some proper remorse from you, I'm going to cut your blog time wayyyy down. 

Muttin:  Ho hum.  What were you saying? 

Me:  I was saying Oh NEVER MIND.  I can't think when you're watching words fly around the living room.

.

. 

.

*
Just Call Me Defeated
. 

The Sick and The Cute

Count 'em and weep. 

Tony and Stewart, huh.  Why not Jeff and Gordon, in that case?  Might as well name them Whine and Bag, in the case of Tony Stewart.  Clever Ben.

I loved all the suggestions for names, in particular Jasper and Jenkins ... however, after some experience with Spit and Spat, I had difficulty remembering who was who, so it became clear that I would have to have descriptive names for them, that I would be able to remember.  Like Blacky and Brownie.  Something obvious like that. 

The cuteness is almost ridiculous. 

.

Doors = GREAT cat toy!

Believe me, it is not necessary for me to talk about why I won't forget which one is Barf, and which one is Hiney.  Suffice to say ... the vet giving them a "clean bill of health" was a bit hasty.  Also?  Kittens this little don't seem to know that cats don't like water, as Hiney needed his "diaper" changed more than once.

They're much better now. 

*

Just Call Me Vet Apprentice

.

You know it had to happen

After tearing apart the couch, the desk area, the bathroom, and bedroom, I gathered the troops. 

Me:  Muttin, so help me Dog, if you ate my teeth, I will strangle you with my own hands.

Muttin:  Wha?  What are you talking about???

Me:  I can't find my bottom teeth.

Muttin:  I didn't touch your teeth.

Me:  Everyone of you - come here.

Duke:  Is my tennis ball missing???

Me:  No Duke, worry not about your tennis balls.  BTW, I bought you a whole bunch more.  But that doesn't mean you can leave them all about willy nilly.

Me:  Who took my teeth?

Duke:  Not me.

Muttin:  Not me.

Jeffrey:  Not me.

Kitten #1:  Meow

Kitten #2:  Meow meow meow meow.

Jeffrey:  When will they start talking?

Muttin:  Lord, must they? 

Kitten #1 & 2:  Meow meow meow meow

Me:  I left them on the table here.  Do you know how embarrassing it would be to have to tell the dentist that I lost my teeth?

Ring ring ring.  No actually it William Tell, William Tell, William Tell ring tone of my cell phone, so I know it's SanFranMan.

He:  How you doing, how was your day?

Me:  It was fine until I lost my teeth.

He heard "keys" instead of "teeth", so mass confusion reigned while he asked stupid questions regarding "keys", when I was thinking he was talking about "teeth". 

Me:  No, I mean I lost my bottom teeth.  T E E T H.

He:  Ohhhhhhhhhh.  (Shudders)  Are they sitting on a chair somewhere? 

Me:  Laugh laugh laugh.

He and Me:  Blah blah blah, blee blee blee, bleh bleh bleh

Me:  So I need to go so I can search for my teeth.

He:  (Shudders)  Okay, good luck, find them. 

I call all the animals again.

Me:  Gather round, beasties.

Muttin:  I SWEAR I didn't take your teeth.

Jeffrey:  She didn't, I'm here to vouch for her this time. 

So, I resumed the search, all the while composing in my mind what I'd tell the dentist.

Dentist:  So what happened to your bottom teeth?

Me:  Uhhhh ... the dog ate them? 

*

Just Call Me Hopeless

.

Update!  The Teeth were found in the kitchen sink!

.

Kitty Update

The two kitties that were dumped on me cause my car evidently is stupid and has "Sucker" stamped over it's windshield?  I believe a $90.00 vet bill for their shots means their MINE.  Dammit. 

I'm now the proud owner of two male kittens.  Whose names are not Spit and Spat, because somehow those names are two cutsy cutsy for male cats.  Cute now, grown up later, is what I'm saying.  The vet said he liked the "tabby" as he pulled the brown one towards him, so now "Tabby" keeps running thru my head for him, but again, not quite right for a male cat. 

The black one had become a little lethargic the nite before the vet visit, and had diarrhea, and then it vomited in the morning, before he even ate, so I was convinced it had distemper or parvo or leukemia or one of the other ka-zillion diseases I researched on the Internet.  Damn Internet had me scared to death, thankyouverymuch, but he's got a clean bill of health - may have been stress - just what I need - another animal with a sensitive tummy or bowel system (Jeffrey). 

So anyways, knowing that cats rarely survive the distemper or parvo, I had convinced myself he wasn't going to make it, and must admit, the thought, while sad, what was sadder (smarter?) was the fact that should it die, that would free me up to give my mother the ONE kitten she said she would take IF it had it's shots, and was litter trained, etc.  I thought whew, boy would I have been glad to have my population problem solved. 

But alas, the kitten is fine, they both now have their shots, and the one who was acting sick became quite healthy the minute I got them home again.  Naturally. 

Where's VetMan when I need him?  Why, yes, VetMan Dear, I HAVE missed you and want you to come back from ... Brazil? now is it?  Absence DOES make the heart grow fonder, isn't that an interesting discovery?  If I declared my love in an open love letter, do you suppose that would bring him home to me, hmmm?

Dear VetMan,

Hi, how are you?  Where are you now?  I haven't heard from you since you left Chili, and were headed towards Brazil, stopping where you may. 

Well, I'm here to tell you that I miss you and wish you would come home.  We need to explore a relationship together.  Perhaps I was a bit hasty last time.  Please consider giving me a second chance. 

Thank you very much and oh so sincerely,

     Laurie

PS.  By the way did I mention I have 2 new kittens?  Oh, and the dogs are just fine, thanks, altho, Duke is due for his shots. 

.

Damn my hands hurt. 

According to the dogs, it's getting a bit crowded in here.  It doesn't help that I sold one of my dressers from the bedroom, so I pulled it out into the livingroom for it to be picked up, and so I could fit in the shelves that are replacing the dresser.  Last Saturday.  And it's still here. 

So I'm up for some name suggestions, people. 

*

Just Call Me Oh So Sincere

.

The Kitten Conversation

Duke:  What are they?  Furry tennis balls?

Me:  No, Duke, they're kittens.  Don't EVEN think about fetching kittens. 

Muttin:  No, Duke, they're breakfast.  One bite apiece, and you're full for the rest of the day.  Just think of it.

Me and Jeffrey:  Muttin! 

Duke: Not tennis balls?  What are they good for then?

Muttin:  Exactly.

Jeffrey:  Can we play with them? 

Me:  Of course you can, Sweetie Boy.  They will be giving you a run for your money once they get used to things.  Or in your case - a run for your chicken.

Jeffrey:  My chicken?!  No!  Do they eat chicken too?  What are you saying???

Me:  Calm down, sweetie - it's just a phrase.  It means they're going to be alot of fun to play with ... yea, that's it.

Muttin:  Jeffrey, you and I need to have a talk. 

Jeffrey:  About chicken? 

Muttin:  No, Dimbo.  Don't you see a pattern here?  First, there's Duke ...

Jeffrey:  ... Yessss ... ?

Muttin:  Have you noticed how much attention she pays him, hmmm?

Jeffrey:  Well, if we wanted to fetch tennis balls, I'm sure she'd throw them for us too.  But I thought we were too cool to do that?

Muttin:  We are.  The point is ... she doesn't pay as much attention to us anymore.  Other people have noticed.  Remember when the old man down the hall asked her if her two little dogs ever got jealous because of the big dog? 

Jeffrey:  Well, yea.  But I don't get jealous ... do I? 

Muttin:  (rolls her eyes)

Me:  Muttin, it sounds like you're the jealous one.  What can I do to make you feel better?

Muttin:  Get rid of the kittens.  Feed us twice a day.  Vote for Hillary. 

Me:  The kittens are here to stay.  Maybe.  SonOne might take them to the Humane Society for me when he comes in July tho, if they don't work out. 

Muttin:  At LAST, someone's got some sense around here.  I take back every mean thing I ever said about that boy. 

Jeffrey:  What's he got against kittens?  He hasn't even met them yet.

Me:  He's terrified I'm going to become a little old crazy cat lady whose house is covered in tuna fish cans, and he's gonna be the one who has to clean them up when I die.  Evidently it's been a frequent nightmare of his since childhood. 

Muttin:  Well, the fact that you had 7 cats during his teen years may have something to do with that.  Duh.

Duke:  They are cute. 

Me:  There's that.  There's no such thing as an ugly kitten.  That's how you get sucked into their world, and it's said that no-one owns a cat, they won't allow it.  They own us, is what they say. 

Muttin:  Speak for yourself, Tonto.   

Jeffrey:  They're adorable.  I can't wait to play with them.

Duke:  Me too.  When can we play with them huh huh huh?

Me:  As soon as Muttin stops barking her fool head off at them, so she doesn't scare them into places I can't get them from. 

Me:  And two, as soon as you, Duke, quits chuffing all over them.  And that poking them with your nose has got to stop.  Once they figure out they have claws, you're gonna be sorry.

Duke:  Well, they're just so fun and furry ...

Me:  And three, as soon as you stop talking about them as if you're wondering if they'd be better bar-b-qued or fried. 

*

Push me Pull you

Or should it be Sit me Sit you?

.

Doctor Dolittle's

Still unable to figure it out

Muttin/Jeff's normal perspective when watching the tennis ball toss and fetch thing that goes on at least 4 times a day. 

.

This is the reason why I've been seen about town, seemingly taking pictures of various hydrants for no reason

You would not believe how many times I've tried to get this picture.  The typical 'dog peeing on hydrant' thing.  Jeffrey would never pee on a hydrant until Duke came along.  The hydrants now belong to Jeffrey.  And he wants Duke to know it. 

Thank you!

After chasing the tennis ball 77 times, Duke normally leaves the ball out in the hallway..

Or just outside the back door.

This is the last ball we had. He eventually chews through them and I get rid of it so nobody chokes on puke green things. Cause if I saw puke green things coming out of my dogs, I’d probably freak.

This morning, when we went out, someone had given us two more tennis balls. Duke has fans!

This is Muttin/Jeff wondering what the heck is so fascinating about chasing these things.

Duke and the canal

WheelchairLady, whom I've been helping again, lives next door to a canal.  It's been empty all winter, but now it's Duke's playground sent straight from God Dog himself.  Of course, his favorite thing to fetch is the tennis ball, but I bought him an Aqua Pal.  I searched the world over Internet for a picture of said toy, but I could not. 

It's blue and floats and he loves it, like marry it love.  I mowed WCLady's lawn, and the whole time I was doing it, he played by himself by tossing the ball towards a little eddy where the water was still and the toy wouldn't go downstream.  He'd paw at it, let it go downstream, catch it.  Sooo fun fun to watch him.  His joy and happiness is so apparent and it's hard to make him quit.  I ended up staying for 3 hours, just throwing the ball for him. 

He lost the damn thing today.  $12.99 down the canal. 

*

Just Call Me Dog Spoiler

.

Still here

Hello, Internet.  I've been gone, busy losing my mind.  And running running away from myself.  And the neurologist.  Cause I don't like him much anymore.   

.

Who the heck does he think he is?

KING OF THE WORLD, is who he is ...

. 

Who the heck does he think he is?

KING OF THE WORLD, is who he is ...

. 

He thinks he's a secret

I think he honestly thinks he's hiding from me. 

.

He's an angel

Why does Jeffrey's mohawk look almost holy, and Muttin's just doesn't?  SFM gets a kick of Muttin's little tuft of head hair, but Jeffrey's mohawk is a wonder to behold.  Unfortunately, the old people laugh at him. 

*

Just Call Me Dog Hairdresser

.

There's an axe murderer amongst us

Ohmygodshe'slostherbody!

In other news, I'm very tired and in much pain, so not blogging much. 

*

The Teeth

The teeth of a 3-year old.  So the vet said when he was about six. 

. 

Let the fun begin

Duke isn't the only fetcher in the family.  She fetches perfectly.  Run, run, runs after it, grabs it, runs right back to me ... but won't let me have it back.  That's when the real game starts for her. 

The Daily Doggie Pic was mistakenly posted at 12 noon rather than 12am, so we stand corrected. 

.

. 

Much stuff

I am trying to think of something I can do to ... what? shut the talking heads off on all the so-called news shows like Fox, NSMBC and CNN?  Like I could do that.  How about ... (ohmyheck, here I've applied for job at a news agency, and all of a sudden I'm Little Miss Opinion Who Wants to Change the World).  I make myself laugh.  Well, maybe I'm just that versatile - a news hound AND a comedian.  They need to hire me on The View, now that Rosie is leaving. 

I have the same gripe as Rosie - why is our society so movie star/athlete obsessed?  Why does the fact that Rosie is quitting a TV show gets more air time than the war, or the Virginia Tech story?  And what the HELL is wrong with Donald Trump and Bill O'Reilly?  I don't always agree with Rosie, but I sure know better than to call anyone fat, or other names.  O'Reilly's complaint is that because she's on the air, she needs to be careful of what she says, because she has "influence".  She thinks there's a government conspiracy behind 9/11.  Luckily, I'm smarter than what O'Reilly takes me for - I'm able to think for myself.  All Rosie did was make me curious enough to find out for myself - I didn't drink the Kool-Aid* hook, line and sinker.  Some of the 9/11 stuff is compelling, but then again ... what I've read is on the Internet, and as close and the Internet and I are - I don't believe everything it says either. 

The View taped a show with an audience full of first responders to the 9/11 attack.  Many of them are dying from breathing in the toxic atmosphere, and their federal benefits are running out.  These were young people, in the prime of their life, the firemen, police and EMT's.  And the government is letting them spin in the wind.  The show is to air tomorrow. 

You probably think I watch TV all day, don't you?  I don't, but Muttin insists on having it on all day.  It's her fault I'm now addicted to the Real World. 

In other news, my new aide said my place smells good.  This is a compliment for someone with 3 three Three THREE! dogs.  She also happened to mention in passing that her husband is the guy who shot the other guy in the Wal-Mart parking lot.  Then she took a phone call from the police, and I heard the edges of what sounded like her being charged with beating up another woman.  This one should be fun. 

I helped the Wicker Lady with her storage unit yesterday, and then got sick from eating some potato salad Vetman made over the weekend.  Which reminds me - I didn't mention that VetMan is moving to ... oh man.  I've forgotten where it was he's going.  Somewhere out of the country.  With no Internet.  !!!  Can you imagine?  No wonder I can't remember where he said it was - I probably stopped listening at the thought of no Internet. Even more shocking is that he said he's looking forward to it - no net or cell phones either.  And I thought I was crazy???  I beg to differ.  Which begging to differ with yourself is just silly.  Crazy even, cause wouldn't that mean there were voices in my head? 

So I will miss him, but not so much, because I can't be hanging around with The Craziness.  I have enough Crazy of my own.  Which brings me nicely to the dogs. 

When I woke up this morning, I rolled over to face the dogs on the other side.  They sleep below the pillow on the other side because they are spoiled.  No, because they need to lord it over Duke, who sleeps on the floor.  It's quite hilarious to see them standing nose to nose cause I swear, Jeffrey puffs his chest out more.  Anyways, so there Muttin/Jeff were, almost eye-level with me.  I burst out laughing, because Jeffrey was sitting on Muttin's head.  Well, not quite sitting - his hiney end was laying on top of Muttin's head, I couldn't see her eyes and her nose was just poking out.  This is out of character for her to put up with such shenanigans.  And she was quite embarrassed to be caught in such a position with me laughing at her.

Did you see the world's largest and smallest dog on Oprah?  The Great Dane was so big that it could sit it's hind end in the airplane seat with no problem.  So cute.  There was also a segment about what is the healthiest way to feed your dogs, and it just made me wince for Duke.  His food was listed as the worst out of seven points to feed.  Raw meat was number one, then cooked meat, then quality canned food number 3, and so on.  I have always mentioned to the kids that I can't believe how much water Duke drinks, to me it seems like ALOT.  Then I happened to read that dogs with low quality dry food tend to drink an abnormal amount of water ... blah blah I forget why. 

You know, it's a little creepy and intimidating to think that the San Francisco editor job that I applied for might be reading the blog as we speak, and there I go with such a professional sentence as the one above ... "blah blah I forget why".   So classy.  I also found out that SanFranMan, SFM from now on, I'm sick of spelling it out, has started reading again, and that's even more frightening.  I don't really know what he thinks of me, or why he likes me, cause I'm so much more quiet with him than I am in real life or on the blog.  I say "uh huh" the majority of the time with him, either in agreement, or uh huh, yes, go on, I'm listening.  I don't think I'm like that with anyone else.  So the natural question would be "So Laurie, why do you think that is?"  (that's me practicing interviewing somebody for a news article)  I think that is because I really do agree with most of the things he's saying OR yes, I'm listening cause he's so fascinating to listen to, and he's so funny.  Hell, he could think I'm stupid, unimaginative, and uninteresting for all I know.  Thank god there's sex, is all I have to say about that. 

Altho, I'm for Obama, and he's not - he thinks Obama doesn't have enough experience.  Which is a good point.  I think it should be Hillary President, and Obama Vice President.  Then the Democrats would have the next 12 years.  Two terms for the first woman president, and Obama will certainly have the experience by then, and be the first non-white president.  Honest to God, I don't know why I've got all these important thoughts in my head again.  Writing is a mysterious mistress.  Oh how authorish of me.  There are days when I'm completely blank, and then there are days when I'm too full of stuff to write about, it makes me have 80 entries still in draft status cause I can't keep up. 

Because I really hate having an aide come in, this morning I thought I'd start weaning myself off the pain meds.  One of the requirements of getting the meds paid for is needing an aide.  So stupid.  The system is going broke because it insists I need an aide when I really don't and then they'll pay for the meds.  Why not save themselves some money and just PAY FOR THE MEDS???  I wish I could swing the $2800, but I can't, but I could certainly save them the cost of the aide.   So anyways, there I was thinking if I don't need the pain meds, I won't have a stranger in my home folding my underwear and noticing that all I ate yesterday was 4 cinnamon rolls.  Brilliant, yes?  I cut out one of the Tramadol.  HAHAHAHAHA.  Again, what the HELL was I thinking?  By the time the new aide came in, I was firmly entrenched back into my reputation as a bitch. 

That is all.

Just Call Me Too Many Voices in My Head

. 

* One lasting legacy of the Jonestown tragedy is the saying, “Don’t drink the Kool-Aid.” This has come to mean, "Don’t trust anyone/group you find to be a little on the kooky side, or that you can't think for yourself.  Of course, you would have to know of Kool-Aid’s dubious connection to Jim Jones to understand the saying. 

. 

Sniff

Smelling Spring.  I think.  Or maybe he's stuck up - nose in the air. 

Duke and his addictions

It's so unmanly of him when I have to say "Go get your fish", but it's a nice break from the tennis ball. 

.

She not so dumb

Muttin pulled her shivering stunt on me again.  Only now I'm on to her.  She was getting into a nasty habit (must rethink this - oh right, I have editorial control) okay, she had a nasty habit of shivering whenever I looked at her.  And of course, me being the sweet softy that I am, I'd cuddle her up, and give her the best place on the couch and generally make a fuss over her.  I mean, after all, I DID give them a haircut too soon, and it snowed the day after I gave it too them. 

So one day, I was sitting with a mirror in my hand, trying to decide whether to chop off my hair or not.  Muttin was sitting on the floor in front of me, wanting attention.  I'd look at her, she'd shiver.  At one point I happened to turn the mirror around so that I could see her in the mirror, but to her it looked like I was looking out the window.  When looking at her reflection in the mirror, she stopped shivering.  When I took the mirror down and looked directly at her, she'd shiver.  Looked at her thru the mirror, she'd stop shivering.

Busted!  I told her.  And she's not done it since.  The shivering era is over. 

*

Just Call Me Buster

.

Mr. Manners

Ahhhh.  He's covered himself up.  Much improvement.  Gosling will approve. 

.

Just Call Me Proud

. 

Good Glasses

He did, however, read the contract very  closely. 

.

PicAday

Her Royal Bitchiness awaits.  After intensive contract negotiations, and hammering out the most ridiculous details, the PicADay dog pictures are back.  Muttin has pre-approval of the pictures, but I have complete control over the word content.  Jeffrey doesn't give a damn, as evidenced by his tail leaving the photo op. 

.

Conscientious, My Ass

Let it be said that I am nothing if not a conscientious dog owner.  I think we can all agree on that.  (Except for the part where I sometimes leave them with someone who doesn't adore them).  They are current on their shots.  I take them to the vet at the slightest concern.  I researced the best diet endlessely, and then still worry if I'm doing the right thing.  I walk them, I potty them at regular intervals.  VERY regular intervals. 

So let me say how irritated I am with ALL of them right now.  It's 4:10pm in the afternoon.  It is rainy, and snowy outside and NONE of them have pooped yet.  They who convince me on near hourly basis that someone has to go potty or they'll burst and possibly die. 

Make that 5pm and still going.  Or "not going" is more like it.  Hell, do they just make up poop for the fun of making me pick it up? 

.

Just Call Me Re-thinking "To Own a Dog Is a Lifetime Commitment"

It's taken me all day to post this thing, just get it the hell away from me!

I took Ms. Carmen's advice and walked with the dogs.  Which you know is what I used to do. 

I got up, pooped the dogs, fed Duke.  Frowned sternly at all dogs who were milling around my feet, expecting to go. 

Walked to Snap.  It's a 10 minute walk.  BY MYSELF.  It was heaven.  I love walking in the early mornings better than any other time of the day. 

Today was Day 2 for going to Snap Fitness.  I didn't do cardio, because as you now know, thanks to Good Morning America,  cardio is bad.  I did all the weight machines a minimum of 1 set of 20 each @ 20lbs to begin with.  I'll work up to 2 sets at that same weight and then increase the lbs as I go along. 

Walked back home, another 10 minute walk.  Got home, peed the dogs, because according to them, the 1 1/2 hours that I was gone was Bladder Hell.  Who cares that they seem to be able to hold it for 8 hours overnite.  That is not a factor when the guilt trip is being applied. 

Read emails, other blogs, ate one hard boiled egg, canned peaches, and then another hard boiled egg.  Yum.  The most important part for me to remember is portion control.  That alone can turn down the calories with hardly any effort. 

Then it was time for Stella Hella to come, and feel my normal resentment at being invaded.  Stupid Medicaid.  She didn't feel good, so I told her to go away.  Then I leashed up all the dogs, which is a huge ordeal because they're so excited.  Must train them better. 

(Three dogs on

2 leashes)

Walked to ... "Wheels" house, so that I could take her fat Chi wa wa for a walk.  Put Duke in her back yard, where he proceeded to stick his large head thru the chi wa wa sized pet door and Muttin/Jeff were trapped outside cause Duke wouldn't let them thru.  Worked for us, so we could have a peaceful visit.  Cept for his whining.  Took Daisy for her walk, down a block and a half.  Took Jeffrey with us, cause he's a big baby and howls if I leave him behind.  Worked out great cause it made Daisy walk harder in order to stay in front of him.  Wheels said Muttin sat next to her on the couch, and watch out the window the whole time, waiting for me to come home. 

Wheels then forced me to drink a coke. 

The dogs and I walked back home, going the long way around, so they could have some freedom off the leash down some back alleyways. 

Time back home?  2pm.  How many steps so far? 

(By 2pm in the afternoon, people)

10,000 steps a day is supposedly the way to maintain your weight loss.  At this rate, I should be 79 lbs in about a month.  These dogs are going to wear me down to nothing. 

What's next on the schedule?  Relaxing, watch Dr. Phil and Oprah.  Eat some oatmeal with plain yogurt and raisons.  Very fulfilling, and helps me not be hungry all afternoon.  Do this post.  Cuss at camera.  Look longingly at the dogs, who are laying around and napping.  Lucky dogs. 

The rest of the day is wide open.  Cept for a tennis ball session at about 6:30.  Duke will sleep the rest of the afternoon because he's worn out from walking at noon.  The 6:30pm session should keep him tired enough so that he won't stare at me relentlessly all nite.  The stare that says "I've still got pent up energy in my young bones, and you've failed me today" stare. 

I must get out of this post before it gets more stupid. 

. 

We're back

After much cussing (by me) and as you can see the dogs are busy too... we are back online with the pictures. 

And there's good news and there's bad news.   The good news is that somehow I DIDN'T lose all my pictures after all.  They're inside my photo shop program... and I have to do some thinking and or file looking to see if that means they are or aren't on my hard drive. 

The bad news is that the  marriage between my computer and camera seems to have a short circuit.  If I hold the USB plug-in part just so on the camera, I can down load the pictures.  This is not fun.  I had 172 pictures to download, and had to start over several times cause I didn't hold it just so.  Asshole camera. 

...

Don't worry.  I'll speak to those dogs about how rude they're being right now!

. 

30 Deeds for 30 Days - Day 1

Today's good deed was to set out some outgrown shirts and blouses out on the Donate Table that is held on the first Monday of each month.  Which gave me more room in my drawers!  Which I will NOT fill up with more clothes!  No! 

I am plenty un-nerved just now because Duke just howled.  He's just laying down at my feet, and suddenly he howled.  I don't know if he had a bad dream, didn't like the video I was listening to at the moment, or if he's got a sharp, piercing pain in his belly. 

.

Help help, and help

I usually watch 'Live w/Regis and Kelly' in the morning.  By default, because I'm too lazy or busy to change the channel when it's over, the celebrity news rag 'The Insider' comes on.  And I use the word "news" with a snort in my voice, btw.  But I end up listening on the edges, and it always makes me insane just a little when they say something like "Breaking News! This Just In!", and go one to say that evidence has suddenly surfaced to suggest something haunting, and worth much concern... Was Anna Nicole Smith abusing drugs???  It just might seem so, according to a memo detailing 72 different drugs.  Let's be clear, they're "legal" prescription drugs tho. 

Or like when one of the dancing instructors on "Dancing with the Stars" states "I'm the youngest professional dancer in the HISTORY of the show.  When the history of the show is only 3 or 4 seasons old.  That's history, all right.

Oh dear.  My sister, who is my dog-sitter, cannot watch my dogs after all.  Her stupid boss, whom I've always really liked and admired before now, wants her in Boise Sun - Tues.  When I'm spose to be in Reno.  When I've already sent money that could have paid for boarding to the people of Idaho who are keeping my driver's license away from me just cause I didn't pay some dumb ticket once upon a time.  Or was it twice upon a time?

AGHHHHHHH. 

Ben?  Could you come up from San Diego and watch the little darlings?  I'll have a very stern talk with Muttin about slapping people, and she'll promise never to slap you again.  I swear.  (At this point, I'll say anything). 

Okay, I'm off to make more friends.  Or sleep with someone new.  Completely sincerely.  So they'll watch my dogs this weekend. 

.

There are 29 different renditions of 'Amazing Grace' in my Ipod and you can damn well bet I'll be listening to it while at the dentist today

 

Me:  Dogs, I'm probably going to be gone all day today, getting my teeth pulled out by the dentist.

Jeffrey:  What?  No way?  You poor thing!

Muttin:  What in the world are you doing that for?

Duke:  Who's gonna throw my tennis ball for me?

Me:  Cause the dentist said my teeth are no good, and dentures would be better.

Jeffrey:  Do you have soft foods and lots to drink for afterwards?  Cause I doubt you'll feel like eating much.

Muttin:  She could do without a few meals, it wouldn't hurt her any.

Duke:  Where is my tennis ball? 

Me:  Muttin, you're so nice.  Not. 

Jeffrey:  Well, when you come home, how about if I curl up right next to you in bed, and watch over you?  And I'll have Muttin answer the phone, and answer the door should anyone call or come by, k? 

Muttin:  I spose it's the least I can do - hopefully you'll be able to feed us tonite, right?

Me:  That'd be sweet, Jeffrey.  Don't get upset tho, if I don't notice things for awhile cause I'll be doped up, okay?  And yes, Mutt, I'll feed you.  Altho, it wouldn't hurt you any to go without a meal...

Muttin:  Yea yea yea. 

Duke:  So... what you're saying is ... no tennis ball fetching today? 

Me:  Uh.  Yes Duke. 

.

Trying not to incur the wrath of Shad

Me and the computer have been fighting for days now.  Ever since I discovered Firefox. 

I'd log on, get mad at something it did or didn't do, and stop speaking to it.  Then I'd forget I wasn't speaking to it, come back to it, and again, it didn't do what I wanted it to do, so I'd stop speaking to it again.  Do this 3-4 times every few hours, and one tends to overload on frustration. 

Oh yes.  Don't ever try to use a different mouse with 5 different buttons and the same time you're learning a new browser.  A mouse that you can't feel.  With the trackball in a different spot.  When it's a right handed mouse, and you have to use your left hand cause you can't FEEL anything with your right.  Try configuring the buttons in different ways so that your numb fingers don't click when they shouldn't cause they can't fucking feel where they are clicking. 

I've changed my mind, I'm not addicted to the computer.  I'm addicted to ... confusion and frustration.  Yea, that's it.

Duke and I got in a big fight tonite.  I don't even want to talk about it. 

Muttin and I got in a little fight.  I don't want to talk about it.  And yes, the fights do evidently depend on the size of the dog. 

I'm mad at my magic clock.  In the past, it has reset itself  for Daylight Savings Time, but it didn't do it this time.  Now... I know there was a big concern of near Y2K porportions, that DST was going to screw up the world because it was happening a couple of weeks sooner than usual.  So the computers that control the world were going to be all messed up.  However, my atomic clock isn't a computer.  So I don't  get it. 

SanFranMan and I are in a secret fight.  It's secret cause he doesn't know about it.  Both he and I are in High Apathetic Mode the last couple of weeks. 

He:  (snarl snarl snarl about something meaningless, I'm sure)

Me:  Don't bitch at me buddy.

He:  (snarl snarl snarl at what I just said)

Me:  I've been bitchy too lately.

He:  I'm bitchy too.  If I could, I'd have a period and be bitchy er with PMS.

Me:  I can outbitch you any day. 

He:  No you can't.  I'll just stop. 

Me:  (thinking how he just disappears all of a sudden for unknown reasons, only to find out he was mad at something I said or did)  (So I kept silent)  (But only for a nano-second) 

Me:  Yea, you'll just disappear and stop calling me. 

He:  (bitch bitch bitch moan moan moan about something meaningless I'm sure)

Me:  Bring.  It.  On.   

And then we made further plans for our trip to Reno on the 25th of March. 

Oh, I forgot to say why we're secretly fighting.  I had written an email to him this morning about the High Apathetic Mode, noting that I thought he was in it too, blah blah blah.  It was just a stupid email, not good, not bad, just fulfilling the desire to get it off my chest.  And my plan to make it better. 

He wrote back "This was a nice and intelligent email you just wrote". 

Intelligent? 

What the HELL does he mean by that, hmmm?

. 

Tennis anyone?

This is Muttin/Jeff wondering what the heck is so fascinating about chasing a tennis ball.  Duke spent today's entire 2 mile walk chasing the ball and bringing it back to me to throw again.  I do it because it wears him out and so he won't whine all evening, wanting more more more attention. 

He'll do this for up to an hour - and probably more - I'm the one who quits. 

Today, I start working out at a real gym with boys and everything.  At Curves, it's women only, so this will take some getting used to.  I need more aerobics, so will be doing the treadmill and Eucalyptus machine.   You know what I mean.
.