Thursday, August 30, 2007
It actually all started Monday evening when a tooth fell out of my denture. Now, I learned a long time ago that you can reaffix a false tooth with fingernail acrylic. It tastes like crap and is probably poison, but you CAN do it.
So, Tuesday morning, my daughter dropped her son off on her way to school so I could drop him off at school. I was gluing in my tooth which, trust me, is a source of amazement to a 7 year old although he was upset that the tooth fairy did not bring me any money.
We got ready to leave and I could not find my office keys. I searched high, low, and in the dog's crate because Buddy is a thief. No keys. I finally gave up and we left.
On our way to the school, I stopped at the bank to put my check and my husband's in the night depository. Evidently, I did not get the deposit envelope exactly horizontal and it became wedged in the machinery and ripped in half.
I delivered lil man to school, called my boss and told him that I would be late and waited for the bank to open. They did - at least the drive-up portion - so I called and, bless Robin's heart, she only laughed a little. She said she thought they could just tape it together but she would find out and let me know.
I drove to the office, which is in an old sugar processing plant that is in the process of being demolished. In the driveway, I saw a LARGE rattlesnake. I drove over the snake, injuring it, backed up and called my boss to come and kill it. I waited there to keep an eye on it. That was my mistake. The two yard dogs, Bug and Sadie, love me. They came running to my car.
Sadie saw the snake and went to investigate. The snake struck at Sadie and Sadie jumped back.
Bug, ever the protector, grabbed the snake by the middle in her mouth and flung it. As she was flinging it, the snake bit her on the side of her jaw.
Both dogs went to the vet. Sadie had barely been struck, although the snake did draw blood just above her right eye. Bug,
my poor Bug, was badly bitten. The fang marks turned black, her face swelled and she went into tremors. Luckily, I had had Bug vaccinated with snake vaccine earlier this year. Her vet, knowing that she lived out here, had recommended it.
It saved her life.
So, PLEASE, if you live in an area with snakes, get your dogs vaccinated. It works!
UPDATE: The keys were in my purse, the tooth stayed glued in and the taste no longer makes me nauseous, the bank could, in fact, tape the check together, and the dogs are both back at home and doing better. New pics tomorrow.
On August 18, 2007 Alex turned 4.
On August 28, 2007 Alex died.
Alex was not sick - oh, ok, so he had some skeletal and muscular problems - but he was not currently sick. Alex, my granddog, died because my daughter is a strong, dutiful, and courageous mother.
A while back, my grandson leaned on Alex and Alex snapped at him. He did not break the skin and Julie chastised him severely. She also talked to lil man about not leaning on "Pup-pup" because he hurt.
Last week, Alex was playing with one of his favorite things in the world - the cardboard tube from a roll of paper towels. Juls was in the kitchen and the dogs and the lil man were in the living room. Lil man went to take the cardboard tube from Alex and Alex bit him. He bit the little guy's finger, both sides, and broke the skin.
My daugher and I both have dogs. We have had dogs for a LONG time. Any one in our family should be able to take anything they want from any of the dogs at any time. This is a given. A dog who bites will be given 1 chance - a dog who bites twice will bite a 3rd or 4th or 5th time. Julie and I both know all this but this was Alex.
Alex was the most exceptional dog I have ever known - and I am Duck's mom. You would have to know Duck to know what an exception I am making. Julie got Alex when he was a baby and when her baby went to live with his dad. She took 6 months off work to train this pup and poured every bit of love she had into him. He knew basic commands, complicated commands, and how to read her mind. He knew her strengths and her weaknesses and her secrets. He loved her as much as she loved him - and that's saying a lot.
She loves her son more. That is why she is brave and strong and courageous and I am so in awe of her.
Alex went easily, for which I am grateful, to God and our wonderful vet and his clinicians.
Alex is buried in what is as close to a family plot as your can find, for which I am grateful to good friends.
He will be missed. He will be remembered. He is loved.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
Lost the keys to my office - still not found
Made arrangements to have daughter's dog (Great Dane) put down at 5 this afternoon
Put paycheck in the night deposit and watched it get cut in half
Found huge rattlesnake in drive at work
Watched stupid dog (the one without vaccine) get bit on face, took same to vet
Got back, other dog, in tremors and swollen from bite also, took to vet
I so want a different rest of my day. Please pray for and with me.
Sunday, August 26, 2007
Fried Porkchops w/mashed potatoes
Creamy Chicken and Rice
Mediterranean Pasta w/shrimp
Stuffed Bell Peppers
|You Are 83% American|
You're as American as red meat and shooting ranges.
Tough and independent, you think big.
You love everything about the US, wrong or right.
And anyone who criticizes your home better not do it in front of you!
Friday, August 24, 2007
When my dad died, Mom sold the house they had lived in for the 59 years after they built it, packed up a ton of stuff, sold some stuff, donated some stuff and moved to a different state near my oldest sister. When she sold the house, she asked my daughter if there was anything she wanted. My daughter couldn't think of anything, although she later regretted not asking for the "button box". My mom, having lived through the Depression and WWII, never threw out a shirt or dress without first carefully cutting off the buttons, salvaging the less worn pieces for a quilt top, revamping the clothing for one of us kids, or relegating it to the "rag bag." These buttons were kept in her sewing chest in an old cigar box. Anytime a button was needed for a new dress or shirt or to repair an old one, the button box was checked for one that matched. Since all my dad's shirts came from J.C. Penney, the odds were always good that one would match. If not, I have seen my mom take 8 buttons from the button box and replace all the buttons on a shirt rather than go buy 1 new one. When we were little, we could spend hours sorting the buttons and putting matching ones on the large safety pins. There were some beautiful buttons, also; buttons from prom dresses and formals. We would play with the buttons for hours and then my sister's children and my children did also. My daughter did not ask for the button box. I have since built one for her - a gathering of plain, ordinary buttons and a few specialty buttons.
My mother also had a set of these sherbet glasses when I was a little girl. We only got to use them on special occasions and holidays. Mom served pudding - back when you still had to cook it - or jello in them.
I recently made pudding for my grandson and my daughter and I got to talking about the green glasses. My daughter spent a lot of time at my mom's when she was growing up and she got to use them all the time!
I got to thinking about them and decided that they were probably one of the things that I would like most to have had from my parents' house. Since they bring such wonderful childhood memories to me and also to my daughter, I decided to try and find some. I did.
They will arrive next week. I will make pudding and serve it to my husband, child, and grandchild in them. I will leave them to my daughter who will leave them to her son who has already said that he will leave them to his children.
I may not be able to inherit my childhood, but I can buy it! I know that sounds flippant or snide but I truly do not feel that way. These glasses remind me of my childhood home, they remind my daughter of her grandparents' home and hopefully, they will remind my grandson of the same thing.
Wednesday, August 22, 2007
The next time someone asks you what is wrong with this country, just refer them to the above-referenced article.
"The head of the Atlanta chapter of the NAACP said Wednesday that Atlanta Falcons quarterback Michael Vick has made mistakes but that they should not cost him his football career with the NFL.
"R.L. White, president of the Atlanta chapter of the National Association for the Advancement of Colored People, said his organization does not condone dogfighting or any other illegal activity, but he told reporters that Vick should be given a chance to redeem himself.
"White also said he didn't understand the uproar over dogfighting, when hunting deer and other animals is perfectly acceptable."
I have absolutely nothing to add to this insanity except for "What the heck?"
I saw you hug your purse closer to you in the grocery store line.
But you didn't see me put an extra $10.00 in the collection plate last Sunday.
I saw you pull your child closer when we passed each other on the sidewalk.
But you didn't see me playing Santa at the local mall.
I saw you change your mind about going into the restaurant.
But you didn't see me attending a meeting to raise more money for the hurricane relief.
I saw you roll up your window and shake your head when I drove by.
But you didn't see me driving behind you when you flicked your cigarette butt out the car window.
I saw you frown at me when I smiled at your children.
But you didn't see me when I took time off from work to run toys to the homeless.
I saw you stare at my long hair.
But you didn't see me and my friends cut ten inches off for Locks of Love.
I saw you roll your eyes at our leather coats and gloves.
But you didn't see me and my brothers donate our old coats and gloves to those that had none.
I saw you look in fright at my tattoos.
But you didn't see me cry as my children where born and have their name written over and in my heart.
I saw you change lanes while rushing off to go somewhere.
But you didn't see me going home to be with my family.
I saw you complain about how loud and noisy our bikes can be.
But you didn't see me when you were changing the CD and drifted into my lane.
I saw you yelling at your kids in the car.
But you didn't see me pat my child's hands, knowing he was safe behind me.
I saw you reading the newspaper or map as you drove down the road.
But you didn't see me squeeze my wife's leg when she told me to take the next turn.
I saw you race down the road in the rain.
But you didn't see me get soaked to the skin so my son could have the car to go on his date.
I saw you run the yellow light just to save a few minutes of time.
But you didn't see me trying to turn right.
I saw you cut me off because you needed to be in the lane I was in.
But you didn't see me leave the road.
I saw you waiting impatiently for my friends to pass.
But you didn't see me.
I wasn't there.
I saw you go home to your family.
But you didn't see me.
Because, I died that day you cut me off.I
WAS JUST A BIKER-A person with friends and a family.But you didn't see me.
Repost this around in hopes that people will understand the biker. I hope that none of y'all ever know the pain of losing someone you love who rides.
I saw this quiz at Pensieve (she got to be a belgian waffle!)
by Joseph Heller
Incredibly witty and funny, you have a taste for irony in all that you
see. It seems that life has put you in perpetually untenable situations, and your sense
of humor is all that gets you through them. These experiences have also made you an
ardent pacifist, though you present your message with tongue sewn into cheek. You
could coin a phrase that replaces the word "paradox" for millions of
Take the Book Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Almost 8 years ago, my daughter gave birth to my youngest grandson. I was fortunate enough to be with her when lil man was born.
As far as deliveries go, it was fairly uneventful. Julie had a saddle block, so felt minimal pain. The baby’s dad and I were amused - the only way (aside from the monitors) that you could tell she was having a contraction was by the fact that her toes twitched. There was a moment of panic when the little twit decided to make an entrance wearing the umbilical cord around his neck, but the attending physicians and nurses soon sorted that out.
The baby was healthy, Julie was healthy, God was in His heaven and all was right with the world. The baby’s dad left and it was just the 3 of us. Julie began hemorrhaging. The doctors recommended an immediate blood transfusion. My daughter is ADAMANTLY opposed to blood transfusions - a personal objection, not a religious one. She refused. No amount of arguing or persuasion on my part had any effect.
I waited - and her doctor waited - until she lost consciousness and then I authorized the transfusion. Those 5 units of blood saved her life.
When she regained consciousness, she was livid that I had gone against her wishes. She said that she could never trust me again, etc. I told her that that was fine - that she was alive to be pissed and I was good with that. We agreed to disagree (we do that a lot).
For the next 7+ years, whenever the subject came up, Julie reiterated her displeasure with me and for the next 7+ years, I thanked God each and every day that she was here to tell me how untrustworthy I was.
Earlier this week, Julie and her lil man went with me to the blood bank. For privacy reasons, they could not go with me while I donated. I was unaware though, that while I was donating, the receptionist directed Julie and lil man to the “cantina”. The cantina has a half wall and my daughter got to watch part of the procedure anyway. My grandson had been with me during a blood drive in our little town at the community center and had already got to watch close up and personal.
I finished donating, collected up my booty (T-shirt, girl scout cookies, and a chance to win a 6 month supply of milk) and we got ready to leave. As I was at the counter, my daughter asked when I could donate again. October 9, I said. She then said that she might want to donate, too.
Lil man told me that his mom had been explaining to him why people donate blood and that I had saved her life when he was born because someone we didn’t even know had donated blood and I made sure she got it.
So, I may still be untrustworthy and she may still be pissed but we progress. We do progress.
My heart sings.
Then, we went to the blood bank. Actually, this was not as easy as it sounds, either. Our blood bank recently moved into new quarters. I thought I knew where they were. I was wrong. I was not lost, however, since, as my grandson pointed out, you can only be lost if you care where you're going. We got where we were going and the blood got donated - this has got to be one of the greatest experiences ever. I will actually post about this later.
Then we went to Pei Wei's, www.peiwei.com/, for lunch. This was the MOST fun! Julie and I both ordered salads and lil man ordered lo mein. When we paid, they gave him "chopstick helpers" www.funchop.com/ which, of course, his mom and I played with. Now, we can both use chopsticks (sort of) but, my gosh, this was easy! It's like training wheels. We cajoled the lil creep into asking for more so that we could play, too.
My baby and her baby - both now proficient with the chopsticks! We played pick up the paper, pick up the carrot shred, share the chicken, share the cucumber slices, and just generally had a terrific time. The manager of the restaurant, whose name I did not get, was everything that a manager should be. It was great.
Sunday, August 12, 2007
Saturday, August 11, 2007
Friday, August 10, 2007
When my oldest daughter started kindergarten (long enough ago that the kids didn't go to pre-school), I was fine. She was independant and ready to go and I had a 2 year old at home to occupy me. She started school without any drama at all.
Fast forward 3 years - my younger daughter was ready for kindergarten. I got her dressed and got all of her school supplies. She was excited and ready to go and ready to leave me. I was excited and ready for her to go and ready for her to leave me.
Or so I thought.
She got out of the car and skipped - yes, skipped - into the schoolroom right behind her big sister. I sat in the car and sobbed. I finally got myself together enough to drive home.
I called my mother to cry on her shoulder - and I started to. I got as far as "my baby's started kindergarten" when my mother, who never ever cursed and who washed my mouth out with soap when I was 30-something for saying "damn" in front of her, called me a bitch.
I was speechless. I finally asked her what the heck she meant and she told me to suck it up. She wasn't doing any better than I was because her "baby's baby was starting kindergarten."
I sucked it up. Sometimes that's the best advice you'll ever get. Feel free to share it.
My grandson now asks for my camera often. He actually asks if he can take the camera and "just walk around." If you would like to see what the world looks like to a 7 year old, please check out his blog at www.capturedbycarlo.blogspot.com
I know that I am prejudiced but I swear the child has talent. All his. No retouching, no editing, no guidance.
I am in awe.