previous 4ths

Several years ago, 5 to be exact, my husband and I were in San Diego, CA for the 4th of July. We went, along with my daughter and her family, to one of their friends' house to watch the fireworks. Little man was 2 going on 3 at the time.

Julie and I sat him between us on the folding chair and explained fireworks to him. We told him they would be colorful and loud and that you just watched them and went "Ooh" and "Ah".

We sat.

We waited.

They started.

"ooh"

"ah"

"ooh"

"ah"

"ooh"

"ah"

"holy shit!"

His mom and I died laughing and now all you have to say is "ooh, ah" and the rest is a given.

Load up

My grandson recently moved here from the big city.

We were going to the store. I opened the pickup door, turned to the dog and said "Load up."

The dog loaded.

We got back from the store. My grandson opened the pickup door, turned to the dog and said "Load down."

The dog stared.

and they'll know we are Christians by our?

This has been rolling around in my brain (nothing there to stop it, you know) since last night.

I was having a conversation with a coworker and she mentioned that she was going to a church in a neighboring town. I am familiar with this church - it is the closest thing that we have to a "mega-church" around here. Knowing that her family was Catholic, I asked her how her mom felt about this. She told me that her mom, being Catholic, did not like Christians.

Say WHAT?

I told her that Catholics are Christians - that we were the 1st Christians, you know, what with Christ starting the Church and all that. She kept saying that Christians are Christians and Catholics are Catholics. I pointed out that it is kind of like dirt - all mud is dirt but not all dirt is mud. All Catholics are Christian but not all Christians are Catholic.

So, I was talking to my husband at lunchtime and he had just had the same conversation with the burrito lady last Friday. My husband is a fairly recent convert to Catholicism and is choosing to observe the Friday fast that we all used to observe. Anyway, he asked for his burrito without meat and she asked why. He told her that he was Catholic and it was Friday. She said that she was surprised - she had always thought that he was a Christian.

Say WHAT?

So, here's what I finally figured out. Everyone I know who is Christian but not Catholic is a Protestant. I don't know when this word fell out of favor but that is what non-Catholic Christian denominations are called - Protestants. So maybe instead of identifying themselves as Christian they should identify themselves as Protestant. That way, all of us would know that they are Christian but not Catholic.

I would just like for EVERYONE to know that when I say that I am Catholic, it is a given that I am a Christian.

Cat Flap (deja vu)

I am a daily reader of http://blogs.chron.com/mamadrama/ and I truly love these ladies. I have shared several of their blogs with my daughter.

Julie and I attended a bridal shower Saturday. It was lovely, the gifts were delightful (some were truly heartfelt and wonderful) and a good time was had by all. The best time, of course, was had by those of us who hung around when it was over, kicked our shoes off, opened the wine and just hung out.

Our hostess recently moved into a new house which is just gorgeous. She had previously lived in a double-wide just across the pasture from where I now live. When she lived there, she had a lot of pets - it's just an "out in the sticks" kind of thing. She and her mom got to talking about the terrible, horrible week when she kept running over things - her dog, her mom's dog, her other dog.

Then she started telling about when she was trimming the matted fur off of her long haired cat and accidentally cut a 6 inch hole in him! Julie and I both started laughing - yes, I know we are sick and demented - looked at each other and said "Cat flap."

Thanks, Jenny.......http://blogs.chron.com/mamadrama/archives/2007/01/its_not_bulemia_1.html

The VFD Carnival

This is a truly historic picture.

Last summer, I was the fat lady who couldn't fit on the ride and had to get off in front of the waiting line. I set my weight-loss goal - being able to go on the carnival rides with my grandson.

I am not through losing weight but I have achieved that goal. I have already set my next goal - a motorcycle trip with my husband without having to put heavy duty shocks on the bike.........

Stick

Stick, the horse I blogged about previously, is dead. He is buried in his pasture.

Thank God.

Not for me

"That's why Alli's manufacturer, GlaxoSmithKline, is advising users to wear dark pants or take along a change of clothes until they know how the drug affects them." from today's issue of the AZ Star

I am fat. I used to be big-boned, healthy, sturdy, well-rounded, fluffy and just big. The truth is, I am fat.

I have tried every diet I ever read about and some that I invented. I am currently trying a non-diet and having really good success with it.

I have never tried the above drug. Didn't try it when it was prescription and not gonna try it now. I understand completely the desperation of the obese. I sympathize with the desperation of the obese. I do not understand why ANYONE would take this drug.

In the immortal words of Porky Pig - Th-th-th-th-th-that's all, folks!

on a lighter note...

Last night my daughter and I went to the local internet-equipped cafe. We both took our laptops and sat at the same table. We, not even remotely resembling computer geeks, at least not in the Poindexter physical sense, sat there being snotty and snide about the other patrons and laughing like loons.

I cannot remember the last time I laughed so hard - and to be fair - we laughed hardest at ourselves for being such nerds. The very best part was when Julie, meaning to type something to me, sent it into another window. I really don't know who she was talking to but I'm fairly sure that he still doesn't believe that she sent the single word "buttmart" to her mom.

She does make me smile. Of course, she always has.

I am heartsick today.

My old neighbors have 2 horses, Freckles, about whom I have written previously, and Stick.

Stick is an old brown horse. He is not flashy. He is not pushy. He has no particularly endearing qualities. He is, to paraphrase a vet I know, just a good old utility horse. He was, in his day, a hell of a roping horse.

Stick is 31 years old and dying. He is not dying gracefully nor with dignity. He is dying in 90 degree weather in a pasture. He is gaunt. He is unsteady on his legs. His coat is dull - what there is left of it. He is being attacked, with hooves and teeth, periodically by Freckles.

I had not seen Stick since we moved. I saw him last night when we went back to the old place to load some stuff. I cried. I cried most of the night and decided today to do something to help this poor animal.

I am not on good terms with Stick's owner. I asked my daughter, who works for the Sheriff's Dept., who I ought to call. She suggested the SPCA.

I tried. I learned that we have no local chapter of the SPCA. I called the local animal control officer and learned that they only work within the city limits. The Police Dept, who dispatches for animal control, suggested the Sheriff's Dept. The Sheriff's Dept., when I called, suggested the Police Dept. I explained that I had already spoken with them and I did finally get to speak to a deputy. I explained the situation to the deputy. He called me back and said that he had spoken to the property owners where the horse is and that the horse is old and sick and that the vet said there was nothing left to be done.

I told the deputy that I already knew all of that and that the horse needed to be assisted in dying. I told him that if I owned a firearm I would go and put a bullet through the horse's head myself. He said that he was sorry and suggested that I call the local Humane Society.

I did. I learned that our local Humane Society neither rescues nor houses rescued animals but that they will gladly accept donations to put their literature into our classrooms - you know, the literature about being kind to animals and taking care of them.

I no longer know what to do. I know there should be something else - I just don't know what it is.

I am heartsick.

Fred

So, we got Fred home. Fred does not look like a Fred. Fred does not act like a Fred.

We tried lots of names and, since he doesn't answer to any name that we could tell, including his old one, my husband just started calling him "Buddy." Most men I know call almost all dogs "Buddy." I think it's for the same reason they call women, "honey" or "darlin'" or "sweetie". You can't get in trouble for getting the name wrong if you never use the name!

Anyway, Shorty started calling the new pup Buddy. I was ok with it. Not great, but ok. Then I stood out on the back porch to call the dogs in for the night.

Duck...
Buddy...
Holly...

Buddy Holly?

and the name stuck.

plain old English, please

From the Reuters oddly enough file:

http://www.reuters.com/article/oddlyEnoughNews/idUSPEK15486420070606?feedType=RSS

"Linguists are struggling about the best way to translate popular dishes like "ants climbing the tree" -- spicy fried vermicelli with finely chopped pork -- into English accurately yet preserving the original meaning, officials have said."

I confess to being confused. I love Oriental food - Chinese, VietNamese, Laotian, etc. I, having been a cross-country truck driver, have eaten Oriental food in at least 43 states of this Union. One of my favorite restaurants, albeit without truck parking, is the Great Wall in Ruidoso, NM. My all time favorite dish there, and one that I have ordered more than once, is....

TAAAAA DAAAAAA

"ants climbing the tree".

So, I guess my question for the linguists is - what's wrong with a good old translation?

About me

As stated in the "about me" blurb, I am a happily married mother of 4 - entirely different than a married happy mother of 4 but that's a story for a different universe.

Anyway, it also states that I have 3 dogs, 2 at home and 1 at work. In just the last week, that has changed to "I have 6 dogs, 3 at home, 1 at work, and 2 at the business adjacent to my home." I am not sure how this happened but my daughter says it has a lot to do with my inability to say "No." She is undoubtedly right - she gave us our 2nd dog - no, wait, that had more to do with her inability to hear "No."

I now believe that I am destined to be the crazy dog lady. You know her. Every town has one, although crazy cat ladies are more common. I think it has to do with the price of the food and the size of the poop!

So, at home, I now have Duck (a Catahoula-Sharpei cross) and Holly (a rare and exotic white boxer), 8 and 5 years old respectively.

At work, I have Bug, who is 1 and 1/2 and plays tug of war with semis. She never wins.

At the business adjacent to my house, I have (we have, my daughter is taking financial responsibility for these two - there's just no room at her house with her 2 Danes. Can we say future crazy dog lady?) Beany and Cecil. I'm not sure how old B&C are - probably about 4 months. They were abandoned, along with a sibling who has since been hit by a car. There is a special circle of hell for people who abandon dogs in the country because "Someone will take care of them". Sorry, pet peeve. Also, how I acquired Bug.

Finally, there is Fred, a 4 month old mutt who is living with some friends of mine. Their lease precludes pets and he is cute. There you have it. When you read in the National Enquirer about the Hereford Hound Hoarder, remember, you read it here first.

3 Things

3 things


It is a list of three things in several categories:



3 things that scare me:

1: Moths

2: Dying slowly and with little grace

3: Being alone



3 people who make me laugh:


1: Julie

2: Lil man

3: Ron White



3 things I love:


1: God

2: a well-written book

3: dogs - any dogs - but especially the family dogs



3 things I severely dislike:



1: poorly-written books

2: people who abuse animals

3: ignorance

3 things I don't understand:

1: how Miss America thinks she will bring about world peace

2: calculus

3: why they make plaid shorts in my size

3 things on my desk:

1: a vintage 1964 10-key

2: a pencil holder

3: overstuffed file folders

3 things I'm doing right now:

1: talking to my daughter

2: making copies

3: watching the scales

3 things I want to do before I die:

1: write a book, even a bad book, just so I get one written

2: see my daughter happy

3: travel to Europe

3 things I can do well:

1: spread sunshine

2: am a good grandmother

3: procrastinate

3 things I can't do well:

1: keep my opinions to myself

2: whistle

3: budget

3 things I think you should listen to:

1: a baby's giggle

2: Warren Buffet's investment advice

3: all of the things that a small child wants to tell you because when they get older they won't want to tell you anything

3 things I think you should never listen to:

1: Gossip (I didn't say I didn't listen, I just said I shouldn't)

2: Negative comments about your spouse

3: Unnecessary profanity

3 things I'd like to learn

1: To play the piano

2: To speak Spanish

3: To like myself better

3 favorite foods:

1: Cheesecake

2: Bacon

3: My mom's rhubarb pie

3 shows I watched as a kid:

1: Beany and Cecil

2: Lawrence Welk (yes, I am that old)

3: Lassie

3 things I regret:

1: Confusing making it easier for some people with doing the best thing

2: Not using my college scholarship

3: Not forgiving sooner

3 people I tag:

Any three who are brave enough to attempt it. Please do - I would LOVE to read your answers

More on the move

The house is moved. Nothing - I repeat, nothing - got broken or even bent. OK, so there was the time the next day when the blocks under the tongue cracked and we had to get the loader and lift the house and put REALLY big pieces of wood under the tongue until the set up guys could get there.

The dogs are ecstatic. They have a fenced in yard with grass (that's certainly new in their lives) and a swimming pool - the a/c is not yet hooked up.

I have pictures of my daughter doing manual labor - she works very hard a lot of the time - we just never get any pictures of her going it....until now! Proof that she will work for steak.

So, on Monday Julie and I decided we should go to the big town (Amarillo) and have some Pei Wei http://www.peiwei.com/ and just relax a little. We did and the food was wonderful. We decided to stop and look at some oak trees on the way home. Julie's little man had planted a red oak last year when he was here. It was just a little stick tree and the neighbor's goats ate it. His Grampits wanted to plant a red oak and just sort of not mention that it was a different tree - you know how Grampits' are.

Anyway, we went to Lowe's and looked at the trees. They had 2 - count them, 2 - red oaks left so of course we HAD to buy one. Now, we live in the country and we do have pickup trucks. Did we drive one to town. Of course not.

The tree - a 15 foot oak - will, in fact, fit in the back seat of a Lincoln Town Car.

We did not pass any bicyclists in the 50 miles we drove home - drat the luck!