Today, I want to introduce you to my guardian and protector: Koda. He's a 67 pound Australian shepherd/Rhodesian Ridgeback mix. He's on guard 24/7, and alerts me to anything out of the ordinary, which usually ranges from a person walking by the house to an aggressive squirrel ransacking the bird feeders. He's extremely protective of the house and the humans in it (he could care less about the cats, though), and usually he does an outstanding job in carrying out his sentry duties.
Except when there's a thunderstorm.
If he hears ANY thunder, he becomes the biggest wuss you've ever seen. He starts off by barking at the lightening, probably to show it who's boss. Then he progresses to howling, which can make you deaf in about 2 minutes. As the storm gets closer, he starts to panic. He has to be in the same room I'm in. His body must be in contact with my body at all times. If I'm at my desk, he must be under the desk, behind my legs. If I'm in bed, he must be at the foot of the bed, safely tucked between my legs or resting by my tush. If the thunder is loud enough, he will start shaking. His ears flatten out, the fur on his back will go up, and his tail will remain between his legs until the storm passes. The transformation between pre-storm dog and post-storm dog is incredible. Suddenly, I'm HIS protector. Only Mommy can keep the storm at bay. Only mommy can chase the bad thunder away. Cute, right? Yes, but only if he's not anywhere near anything breakable, such as computers, electronics, furniture, etc. Then, it's not so adorable.
I suppose I should be happy that he believes I could protect him. This means he accepts me as the Alpha female, which makes me the boss. But I would be a lot happier about it if I wasn't deaf right now.
There's another storm brewing for today. I've already put his dog bed underneath my desk, in preparation for the next panic attack. Am I a good mommy or what?
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Sunday, June 22, 2008
My New Bumper Sticker
Driving around during my daily errand run, I see a lot of different bumper stickers. Some are political, some are humorous, and almost all of them reflect some character or personality of the driver. Naturally, this got me to thinking about the bumper sticker that I should put on my car. And I came up with the following:
"I made an Australian girl cry. Ask me how!"
There are two reasons for this idea. 1. It's eye-catching, even a conversation starter. 2. It's true.
Now let me explain. For some reason, when I travel, I get an excess of bodily toots (aka gas). I don't know if it's the food I eat, the stress that goes with traveling, or a combination of both, but I have been known to lay some real stinkers. The real problem is that there is usually no warning or indication that they are coming, so one minute I'm standing around and everything's fine. The next minute, I toot (usually in the proximity of some poor unsuspecting person), and the green gas spreads it's way through the crowd with some unpleasant results. While in the providence of Queensland, I had just finished breakfast and was walking out of the restaurant to meet up with Big Dave. Suddenly, a toot escaped. You couldn't hear it, but within a minute you sure could smell it. I happened to be passing by a family, and the little girl was the closest one to me. As I passed her, she sniffed, crinkled up her nose, then said (loudly), "Ewwww. Mommy, that stinks!" She then held her nose with one hand, and started to cry. Needless to say, I hurried out of the area. I don't know if they ever discovered it was me, but it was the first of many times that I have had similar reactions to my toots. I have made children cry in many different cities, in different parts of the country, from San Francisco to Savannah.
Now, I am not proud of this "talent". I know there has to be a way to get it to stop. But on rare occasions, it does come in handy. Take, for instance, last night. I was curled up on the couch with the dog. His head was towards my feet, and his tush was pointed at me. With no warning, he let let out a toot, and it was the nastiest smelling thing you can imagine. Like rotten eggs stewed in sulfur water. Not to be outdone, I reciprocated. He sniffed, recoiled, sneezed, then jumped down off the couch and tried to bury his nose in the hallway carpet -- probably to help his nose get rid of the smell. I then had the couch to myself for the rest of the night.
Hey, it may not be ladylike, but it does have it's advantages.
"I made an Australian girl cry. Ask me how!"
There are two reasons for this idea. 1. It's eye-catching, even a conversation starter. 2. It's true.
Now let me explain. For some reason, when I travel, I get an excess of bodily toots (aka gas). I don't know if it's the food I eat, the stress that goes with traveling, or a combination of both, but I have been known to lay some real stinkers. The real problem is that there is usually no warning or indication that they are coming, so one minute I'm standing around and everything's fine. The next minute, I toot (usually in the proximity of some poor unsuspecting person), and the green gas spreads it's way through the crowd with some unpleasant results. While in the providence of Queensland, I had just finished breakfast and was walking out of the restaurant to meet up with Big Dave. Suddenly, a toot escaped. You couldn't hear it, but within a minute you sure could smell it. I happened to be passing by a family, and the little girl was the closest one to me. As I passed her, she sniffed, crinkled up her nose, then said (loudly), "Ewwww. Mommy, that stinks!" She then held her nose with one hand, and started to cry. Needless to say, I hurried out of the area. I don't know if they ever discovered it was me, but it was the first of many times that I have had similar reactions to my toots. I have made children cry in many different cities, in different parts of the country, from San Francisco to Savannah.
Now, I am not proud of this "talent". I know there has to be a way to get it to stop. But on rare occasions, it does come in handy. Take, for instance, last night. I was curled up on the couch with the dog. His head was towards my feet, and his tush was pointed at me. With no warning, he let let out a toot, and it was the nastiest smelling thing you can imagine. Like rotten eggs stewed in sulfur water. Not to be outdone, I reciprocated. He sniffed, recoiled, sneezed, then jumped down off the couch and tried to bury his nose in the hallway carpet -- probably to help his nose get rid of the smell. I then had the couch to myself for the rest of the night.
Hey, it may not be ladylike, but it does have it's advantages.
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
The Great Outdoors
Well, we survived our trek into the Appalacians. What a gorgeous part of the country! Fortunately, we went early enough so we avoided most of the summer heat (although it was still quite warm due to the East Coast heat wave). We hiked, we rafted the white water rapids, we rode a train through the Great Smokies, and just generally relaxed and enjoyed the mountains. And, we ate our way through Bryson City, Cherokee, Gatlainburg, and Maggie Valley. In addition to some souveniers, we bought back with us some great stories.
First, let me tell you about Uncle Charlie. Uncle Charlie was our tour guide while rafting the rapids. He's a young-at-heart 78-year old part time resident of Bryson City, NC, who proudly wore a tee shirt which stated, "You don't grow old because you raft the waters, you grow old because you STOP rafting." He is one of the coolest people you will ever meet. He knew that river like the back of his hand. Because of his knowledge and guidance, we stayed in the raft the entire trip down the river (instead of getting flipped out like many of our fellow rafters). After our trip down the river, I talked to him briefly about his life and his experiences on the river. He summed it up by saying, "I've been rafting these waters for almost 35 years. I know it better than most of the people who have lived here all their lives. Everything that could happen to you on that river has happened to me. That river and I have an understanding. When it's time for me to stop, she'll let me know." He then told us about the local history, the local people, and local legends. I could have talked to him for hours, but there was another boatload of people waiting, so Charlie had to go. But the two lessons he taught me: (1) age is just a number, and (2)your experiences keep you young, so never stop trying new things.
We met up with an old Cherokee tribe member while visiting the Cherokee museum. He was also in his '70s, had lived in Cherokee all his life. He talked to us briefly about the town's renaissance from neglected reservation to bustling tourist town (thanks to the new Harrod's Casino, which is owned by the tribe). The pride he felt at seeing his people finally self sufficient was obvious. They now had quality medical care, new schools, improved infrastructure, and money to put towards ongoing projects. It tickled him that tourists drove hundreds of miles to learn about his culture, tour the museum, and enjoy the local art shows, when he could quite clearly remember when Cherokee children were put in boarding school to make them more "white", so they might fit in with the world around them. He now saw the world trying to fit in with the tribe, and he was enjoying every minute of it. As he now stated, with a big teasing smile, "We don't scalp the white man anymore. We just send him to the casino, and he'll scalp himself."
That's probably the best thing about traveling. You get to meet all sorts of people you might otherwise have never met. Well, that, and the Indian bread. That's pretty good too.
First, let me tell you about Uncle Charlie. Uncle Charlie was our tour guide while rafting the rapids. He's a young-at-heart 78-year old part time resident of Bryson City, NC, who proudly wore a tee shirt which stated, "You don't grow old because you raft the waters, you grow old because you STOP rafting." He is one of the coolest people you will ever meet. He knew that river like the back of his hand. Because of his knowledge and guidance, we stayed in the raft the entire trip down the river (instead of getting flipped out like many of our fellow rafters). After our trip down the river, I talked to him briefly about his life and his experiences on the river. He summed it up by saying, "I've been rafting these waters for almost 35 years. I know it better than most of the people who have lived here all their lives. Everything that could happen to you on that river has happened to me. That river and I have an understanding. When it's time for me to stop, she'll let me know." He then told us about the local history, the local people, and local legends. I could have talked to him for hours, but there was another boatload of people waiting, so Charlie had to go. But the two lessons he taught me: (1) age is just a number, and (2)your experiences keep you young, so never stop trying new things.
We met up with an old Cherokee tribe member while visiting the Cherokee museum. He was also in his '70s, had lived in Cherokee all his life. He talked to us briefly about the town's renaissance from neglected reservation to bustling tourist town (thanks to the new Harrod's Casino, which is owned by the tribe). The pride he felt at seeing his people finally self sufficient was obvious. They now had quality medical care, new schools, improved infrastructure, and money to put towards ongoing projects. It tickled him that tourists drove hundreds of miles to learn about his culture, tour the museum, and enjoy the local art shows, when he could quite clearly remember when Cherokee children were put in boarding school to make them more "white", so they might fit in with the world around them. He now saw the world trying to fit in with the tribe, and he was enjoying every minute of it. As he now stated, with a big teasing smile, "We don't scalp the white man anymore. We just send him to the casino, and he'll scalp himself."
That's probably the best thing about traveling. You get to meet all sorts of people you might otherwise have never met. Well, that, and the Indian bread. That's pretty good too.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
And away we go!
On Friday Big Dave and I are headed to the great state of North Carolina, for a week in a cabin in the woods, followed by a couple of days with my niece and nephew before heading back home. We are really looking foward to this vacation -- and the time spent away from phones, email, computers, and the day-to-day grind. I think we just need to recharge our batteries, so to speak.
My mother will be babysitting the 'kids" while we're away. And by "babysitting", I mean spoiling them so completely and totally rotten that when we get back they'll want nothing to do with us 'cause Nana treated them like little Kings and Queens. The canine will get six thousand walks a day, plus car rides and errand runs to and from town (where he will score at least 4-5 dog biscuits from the bank). Not to mention all-he-can-eat dog treats and chewies from Nana herself. The Felines will undoubtedly get "the good stuff" (canned cat food) in ample quantities, even though I've drawn detailed instructions on their feeding. They will also sleep with her at night, 'cause she doesn't mind being woken up at 3 am with "feed me" demands from 5 very vocal furballs.
And let me say that I appreciate her coming all this way to care for the kids. I really do. But let me share with you the phone conversation I've had with her today. This was an actual conversation. I am not making any of this up:
Me: We really appreciate your coming to watch the pets, Mom.
Mom: I'm happy to do it. It will give you and Dave time together, so you can relax and maybe focus on other things aside from work. Speaking of which, when am I going to get some grandchildren?
Me: You have real grandchildren, Mom. From your son. They live in South Carolina.
Mom: No No.. I mean grandchildren from you.
Me: You already have grandchildren from me. 5 of them, to be exact.
Mom: No.. no.. I mean REAL grandchildren, not furry ones. It's time to get off the pot and let us see some action. It's time.
Me: Mother, if you want more grandchildren THAT bad, I suggest you speak with your son, who has already provided you with two fine examples. In the meantime, Dave and I are working on it, but if you keep insisting on bringing up the subject, I will have to impose a no-grandchildren-penalty for the next six months.
Mom: We've been waiting for years, you know. Years.
Me: So you have proven that you are good at waiting, which means another 6 months won't be that bad, now will it?
Mom: I know it'll happen. Sooner or later, it'll happen. But I prefer it to be sooner.
Me: Yes, mom. I know Mom. We will take your preference into consideration. Now can we talk about somethig else?
And in another week, we will have a similar conversation. And the week after that, yet another conversation... you get the drift.
I really need this vacation.
My mother will be babysitting the 'kids" while we're away. And by "babysitting", I mean spoiling them so completely and totally rotten that when we get back they'll want nothing to do with us 'cause Nana treated them like little Kings and Queens. The canine will get six thousand walks a day, plus car rides and errand runs to and from town (where he will score at least 4-5 dog biscuits from the bank). Not to mention all-he-can-eat dog treats and chewies from Nana herself. The Felines will undoubtedly get "the good stuff" (canned cat food) in ample quantities, even though I've drawn detailed instructions on their feeding. They will also sleep with her at night, 'cause she doesn't mind being woken up at 3 am with "feed me" demands from 5 very vocal furballs.
And let me say that I appreciate her coming all this way to care for the kids. I really do. But let me share with you the phone conversation I've had with her today. This was an actual conversation. I am not making any of this up:
Me: We really appreciate your coming to watch the pets, Mom.
Mom: I'm happy to do it. It will give you and Dave time together, so you can relax and maybe focus on other things aside from work. Speaking of which, when am I going to get some grandchildren?
Me: You have real grandchildren, Mom. From your son. They live in South Carolina.
Mom: No No.. I mean grandchildren from you.
Me: You already have grandchildren from me. 5 of them, to be exact.
Mom: No.. no.. I mean REAL grandchildren, not furry ones. It's time to get off the pot and let us see some action. It's time.
Me: Mother, if you want more grandchildren THAT bad, I suggest you speak with your son, who has already provided you with two fine examples. In the meantime, Dave and I are working on it, but if you keep insisting on bringing up the subject, I will have to impose a no-grandchildren-penalty for the next six months.
Mom: We've been waiting for years, you know. Years.
Me: So you have proven that you are good at waiting, which means another 6 months won't be that bad, now will it?
Mom: I know it'll happen. Sooner or later, it'll happen. But I prefer it to be sooner.
Me: Yes, mom. I know Mom. We will take your preference into consideration. Now can we talk about somethig else?
And in another week, we will have a similar conversation. And the week after that, yet another conversation... you get the drift.
I really need this vacation.
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Big Dave's New Toy
Big Dave picked up his new toy today, the Wii balance board. For those of you unfamiliar with it, let me describe. It's a little bigger than the average bathroom scale, with outlines where you place your feet. It's hooked up to the Wii game system, and you can do Yoga exercises, Strength Training, Balance Training, and various coordination games. The idea is to get people exercising while "playing" video games. I tried it out briefly, and it's actually pretty fun. The Yoga was challanging for me, because while I can balance on one foot, I can't keep my body as centered as the program requires. But it's good, because I need to stretch more and retrain my body to be more flexible. Seems hard to believe how rigid my body has become -- can't touch my toes, can't do a split, can't even reach my arms behind my back without pulling a muscle (I know.. I know.. pretty sad). So the new goal is to try to use the board at least 3x a week, to help shape my body into a better posture and better balance. I know I have an uphill battle, but at least I have a goal.
As for Big Dave, he just likes watching me stretch. And bend. And.. well.. just never you mind. : )
Truth be told, I think that's why he bought it in the first place.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
Dinner Companions
I was doing some spring cleaning earlier this week and came across some old school folders. You know the ones -- dog-eared, battered, with doodles all over the front and back, with notes like "I love _____" and "Kimmie and Jennie BFF" (Was I ever really THAT stupid and annoying?!?!) What caught my attention, however, was one paper I wrote back in junior year of high school (I won't say what year that was!) in which we wrote about throwing a dinner party for eight, and who we would invite to that party. Our guests had to be real people, not necessarily famous, but they could be living or dead. (Kinda gross to be throwing a dinner party for the non-breathing and pulse-lacking, but at the time I didn't question the assignment). I had to laugh at my choices for guests, because today my list would be totally different. I won't even go into detail about my junior year list, because it's too embarassing. Instead, I'd like to share with you my bread new, still-in-the-box list of People I'd Like to Invite to Dinner:
1. Mark Twain. He was, and still is, America's best humorist. I would be very interested to hear his take on society today. No doubt he would be extremely disappointed with how we've turned out.
2. Richard Harris. Actor and master storyteller. Conversation would not be lacking during the entire evening. But the booze would definitely take a hit, as he was a well known admirer of the drink. But then again, a drunk storyteller is the most amusing kind of drunk.
3. Unsinkable Molly Brown. She was a woman ahead of her time, who didn't care what people thought of her. I wouldn't even ask her about the Titanic, because, to me, her life after surviving the disaster was even more interesting.
4. Frank McCourt. Teacher. Author. Immigrant. He could be a drinking companion for Mr. Harris. Two drunk storytellers for the price of one! That could get interesting.
5. Jane Austen. Writer, feminist. I think she and Molly would have so much to talk about, as they had many of the same opinions, just 150 years apart.
6. Dame Judy Dench. Brittish Actor. Best known for her portrayl of "M" in the James Bonds movies. She's had so many delicious roles, and she doesn't suffer fools gladly. I would love to see the interaction between her and Richard Harris.
7. John Buckley Whitehead. He was a Civil War Union soldier who served in a Connecticut regiment for almost a year. He kept a diary of his time in service, which I have a copy of, and his experiences are astounding. Oh, and he's my many-times-great grandfather. I would love to meet him.
8. Annie Besant. Reformer and supporter of India's Home Rule Movement. She was also a supporter for England's working poor and the suffrage movement. What I admire most about her is her desire to never stop learning, and her ability to embrace many different ideas and philosophies, and her respect for the poor and downtrodden. She could probably teach us all what it really means to work for the greater good.
1. Mark Twain. He was, and still is, America's best humorist. I would be very interested to hear his take on society today. No doubt he would be extremely disappointed with how we've turned out.
2. Richard Harris. Actor and master storyteller. Conversation would not be lacking during the entire evening. But the booze would definitely take a hit, as he was a well known admirer of the drink. But then again, a drunk storyteller is the most amusing kind of drunk.
3. Unsinkable Molly Brown. She was a woman ahead of her time, who didn't care what people thought of her. I wouldn't even ask her about the Titanic, because, to me, her life after surviving the disaster was even more interesting.
4. Frank McCourt. Teacher. Author. Immigrant. He could be a drinking companion for Mr. Harris. Two drunk storytellers for the price of one! That could get interesting.
5. Jane Austen. Writer, feminist. I think she and Molly would have so much to talk about, as they had many of the same opinions, just 150 years apart.
6. Dame Judy Dench. Brittish Actor. Best known for her portrayl of "M" in the James Bonds movies. She's had so many delicious roles, and she doesn't suffer fools gladly. I would love to see the interaction between her and Richard Harris.
7. John Buckley Whitehead. He was a Civil War Union soldier who served in a Connecticut regiment for almost a year. He kept a diary of his time in service, which I have a copy of, and his experiences are astounding. Oh, and he's my many-times-great grandfather. I would love to meet him.
8. Annie Besant. Reformer and supporter of India's Home Rule Movement. She was also a supporter for England's working poor and the suffrage movement. What I admire most about her is her desire to never stop learning, and her ability to embrace many different ideas and philosophies, and her respect for the poor and downtrodden. She could probably teach us all what it really means to work for the greater good.
Friday, May 9, 2008
The Bunny is AWOL
Sad news to report for this blog session:
Gizmo the bunny escaped from the porch. She chewed a hole in the window screen and hightailed it to greener pastures. Well, maybe not so green, seeing as how we're in desperate need of rain. But wider pastures, definitely.
Since we live in a rural area, we doubt we will find her, or that she'll come back on her own. Big Dave was upset for a couple of days, but I think after a couple of weeks, he may consider the option of getting another bunny.
In the meantime, I've got a screen to fix and a porch to scrub down (before she left, she deposited some bunny nuggets in the stress lines on the concrete floors -- very hard to reach, even with the skinny vaccuum attachment). If worse comes to worse, I'll have to use a plastic knife to push 'em out.
Is this really what my life has become -- rabbit poop pusher? Somehow, I don't think that'll be an impressive addition to my resume.
Gizmo the bunny escaped from the porch. She chewed a hole in the window screen and hightailed it to greener pastures. Well, maybe not so green, seeing as how we're in desperate need of rain. But wider pastures, definitely.
Since we live in a rural area, we doubt we will find her, or that she'll come back on her own. Big Dave was upset for a couple of days, but I think after a couple of weeks, he may consider the option of getting another bunny.
In the meantime, I've got a screen to fix and a porch to scrub down (before she left, she deposited some bunny nuggets in the stress lines on the concrete floors -- very hard to reach, even with the skinny vaccuum attachment). If worse comes to worse, I'll have to use a plastic knife to push 'em out.
Is this really what my life has become -- rabbit poop pusher? Somehow, I don't think that'll be an impressive addition to my resume.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)