Friday, April 24, 2009
I totally love, love, love this - Bobbi sent it to me by email. You'll need to click on the photo to the left to enlarge. I was actually crying when I saw this. I suppose it takes all kind.
This is literally a 'church signs' debate, being played out in a Southern US town, between Our Lady of Martyrs , and Cumberland Presbyterian, a fundamentalist church. From top to bottom shows you the response and counter-response over time.
The Catholics are displaying a much better sense of humor! You get the impression that the Presbyterians are actually taking this seriously and are getting a bit upset...
Now, I'm not sure if I'm supposed to get the dogs baptized or christened or whatever it's called , but I, for one, am absolutely certain that if there is a Heaven, every one of my dogs (and quite a few cats...), will be there to welcome me - provided of course, I'm invited - well, except the ones left behind that Bobbi is responsible for caring for...
Here's the latest in eHow articles:
How to Clean Makeup Brushes To Make Them Last
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Found out today that an age-old friend whom I recently reconnected with on Facebook is throwing out the first ball at an Orioles game in May so, of course, I just can't miss this opportunity! John and I are both looking forward to seeing Liz, aka Boom Boom, and probably making fun of her like I did - well, a long, long, LONG time ago... I'm trying to lose 40 lbs between now and then... Either that or invest in a good body stocking....
Speaking of needing a body stocking...
Sophia came over tonight with loads of chinese food for dinner so the three of us feasted. I bought some unknown green at the local chinese market earlier today and tried a new recipe I found on the internet - note to self; don't do that again. This chinese market just sucks me in though as the produce is so fresh and about 1/2 the price of the local Giant.
John and his Dad turned over a pretty large plot of land for me to make a garden. Sophia has requested tomatoes, red chili peppers, and green beans. In addition, I'll plant zucchini, yellow squash, cucumbers and green peppers. Am looking forward to just going out back and getting fresh veggies this summer. Also put some arugula out today in pots - love that stuff!
Killian was antsy tonight so took him out back with a frisbee and made him run for it. He got some pretty spectacular catches in and made 8 out of 10. Pretty amazing dog.
Friday, April 17, 2009
That being Vic's name for Gert. Love it. She is totally Trudi-licious in, oh, so many ways...
Had a very nice talk for a few hours on the back deck about life, expectations, etc. We talked about how she was raised and how she raised her children. About her hopes when she was growing up and her hopes for us.
She went up for a nap and I took and ruminated on what we'd talk about - being brought up a certain way, what we expect out of life based on what our parents gave/taught us, maturity and lack there of...etc.
My mother is remarkable in more than one way. She and Dad were very hands on parents yet they allowed us to make our own mistakes and live our own lives. They always offered emotional support, whether we were stupid or not and, sometimes, yes, financial support too. But, in the end, the thing they imparted most on me was how to live and enjoy life. Don't sweat the small things. Gotta love parents that teach their offspring to handle life. I'm so grateful for the two of them.
Just for grins, here's a few of my favorite youtube videos:
I LOVE this reporter's reaction to this lizard - OMG, rolling:
And, here's Carolyn and Rowdie. Killian and I took a doggie dance class with Carolyn a few years ago in PA. She was as excellent as this video shows. I love the connection the two of them have and particularly love that Rowdie choreographs his own moves - Killian does the same.
Oh, and this is funny, two of my eHow articles got picked up online by NBC, the NY Times and the Vancouver Sun. Cracked me up.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Mom and Uncle Al are only 14 months apart and used to get into a lot of trouble when they were younger - not sure they wouldn't still if he lived closer. But they have some great stories to tell...
Like the time they 'borrowed' Zadie's (my grandfather's) wall papering board. They greased it and used it as a sliding board. Both report that they couldn't sit down for quite a while after being found out.
Or, the time that Uncle Al got in trouble for ducking when a brick was thrown at his head. The brick went through a plate glass window behind him at the drug store 'on the corner.' First time in history a kid got smacked for ducking...
Uncle Al actually introduced my folks. He knew Dad from a Jewish fraternity in Kansas City which used to meet at a Jewish community center on Sundays. Mom says it was the Y-baks.
Uncle Al got to talking to Dad. The Y-bacs were going to have a hay ride around Thanskgiving, 1936. Uncle Al had a date but Dad didn't. Dad wanted to know if Uncle Al knew someone he could take. Uncle Al said 'Well, my sister is going to be in town on Sunday. You might ask her.'
The very first think out out of my (future) Dad's mouth was 'Is she cute?'
Uncle Al's reply was 'Hell no. But you'll have a good time with her.' And damned if he didn't - for the next 70+ years (they dated 5 years before she gave him 'the' ultimatum and he took her up on it and they married). He died just short of their 66th anniversary. True love. Very true love. The truest I know of.
He takes out the remaining stitches as she's reported that she's still in pain, very periodically - feels like something is in her eye.
So, he takes out the stitches and has to patch her eye for 24 hours as he had to scratch it to get the stitches out. So, she's got this big white patch covering 1/2 her face but she says she feels fine as he numbed her before starting in.
We decide to stop at La Mex for a cocktail on the way home and a bite of lunch. I go to the parking lot in this huge Honda I now own (which I can't park worth shit...). I go to park in a handicapped space so I pull in, sorta straight for once.
I tell Mom to hold on, I'm going to pull into the next spot which isn't handicapped as I'd rather leave the handicapped space for someone who really needs it.
Mom looks at me (now, she bandaged on my side so she sort of looks at me like a parrot would quizzically look at its owner...), cocks her head and says:
'I can't see. I can't walk. Exactly WHAT do you call THIS?'
I rolled, died, gone. Had a hard time pulling the car in anyway but I was totally rolling. Nice one, Gert.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Here's my latest money makers:
How to Make New Memories With A Senior Citizen
This just in from Amy, JB's original rescuer (she must think I'm a sucker....):
'OH. MY. GOSH. The leopard has changed his spots. Attached you will find PROOF that he WAS a terrific mouser AND did indeed eat them.
Apparently someone has gotten used to the good life! What the heck?? I was wondering how he's been and if his ear healed up. (Sophie has given up that her nemesis is ever coming back and has turned her attention to killing birds - I'm starting to find heads out in the back yard, yuck!)
I'm really at a loss over JB snubbing mice, I just don't know what to say except I guess the 5lb. feeder has helped him with his food issues. Boy, I guess it didn't take him long to turn away from life on the streets!'
Now, Amy dear, you can't POSSIBLY insinuate (!) that just because he has food at his ready, a leather sofa upon which to lounge, his own king sized bed, bathroom privileges (litter changed daily) and a bevy of dogs to bat around that it's MY fault he's become a softie?! Well, I've never...
I believe you photo shopped that picture. Here's a few lesser viewed photos of dear JB, such as the time he tried to capture that elephant....
Or, how about the time he was released from the Ringling Brothers Circus for damaging that lion (not to mention what he could have done to the poor horse)...
Sure, he's a mouser, sure, Amy. Sure he is....
Cats are supposed to catch mice, right? You'd certainly think so. Having been homeless 5 or so years, I was assured that this cat, in particular, would never let another vermin into my Mansion. I believe the statement Amy (his original rescuer) use when I inquired about his mousie-catching prowless was something to the effect of 'He's a champion mouser.' Liar, liar, her pants are on fire..
I had seen signs of a mouse again last week so, once again, John, Mom and I cleaned out all the cupboards, washed everything and put it in the (now junked up) dining room. I took JB over to the spots where I'd seen mice, patiently explaining that now was the time for him to earn those tasty salmon treats he enjoyed so ($3.99 a micro-ounce), and that fresh cream daily, etc. I explained to him, quite clearly, my expectations, even going as far as putting him in each of the drawers in the hopes that catching the scent of a mouse might wake him up from his perpetual slumber. For the cupboard under the drawers, I put him in the cupboard and was hoping he'd look around. No go. He was only interested in the bologna sandwich on the counter. So, not to be outdone by a cat, I picked him up, returned to the cupboard and shook him so that, at least, his fur would be left behind. He was a bit offput by this behavior and gave me a nice scratch to show his displeasure. Ok, I thought. Maybe he has his own way of dealing with the issue. He, being the cat, must know best.
Imagine my surprise (and what should have been his shame) when I discovered yet another mouse had met his untimely demise at the hand of a tiny guillatine in my (empty) silverware drawer. Yes, that's right....I believe JB was sleeping at the time, or, more likely, licking himself....
John took the mouse right to JB to show him what he SHOULD have been doing during the night. The cat (honest truth), peered at the mouse, looked at John and, if the cat had a middle finger, I believe he would have utilized it - cat turned on his heel and sat with his back to John, me, and, well, the quite dead mouse.
'Maybe the mouse needs to look alive,' I whispered, hopefully. So, John gently turned it to and fro, waved it in front of the cat. This time, the cat looked quite disgusted as he departed the kitchen - even his morning bowl of cream wasn't worth this attrocity. Who did we think he was?! I didn't see one bit of regret, no shame, no embarrassment, no nothing. In fact, if anything, I think I detected a wisp of arrogance as he turned to sharpen his claws on my dining room chair.
Luckily for JB, I (if not the dogs) find it unimaginable to think of life around here without him. He continues to bring us much joy - and vet bills....
As I type this, he's sound asleep on the leather sofa. Killian is quite confused...