That cop gave me a ticket

Here I was, minding my own business, just driving around the internet in my old, dialup backup machine (you know there is a story in the reason for that!) when I see a sign in the distance. It tells me I Have Been Tagged by Remo.

Remo is a cop. He says I have to do something, then I will do it. I was rather surprised he used pink ink, but here are the rules:

Here are the rules; the first player of this game starts with the topic. Five weird habits of yourself and people who get tagged need to write an entry about their five weird habits as well as state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose the next five people to be tagged and link to their web journals. Don’t forget to leave a comment in their blog or journal that says “You are tagged” (assuming they take comments) and tell them to read yours.

Do I have to do this even though he didn't leave me a comment? Remo broke the rules, Remo broke the rules...

I am pretty sure I did this voluntarily a long time ago in my journal. I know I have weird habits and I wear them proudly. Well, most of them, anyway. Let's see which five pop into my head first:

1. Well, Remo mentioned that he puts his socks on before his pants. After a shower, the first thing I put on is socks. Nothing else, just socks first. I remember stating this before because I thought it was weird, and Kathi said she does it too. Why do I remember that when I can't remember what I did yesterday?

2. Like Mrs L, I have very neat and clean drawers and closets. The rest is clean, but not always neat.

3. I walk on the right side of people. I am not comfortable on the left side and will move over. I am not sure where that came from, perhaps from when child was younger and I held her down, I mean held her little hand with my left and kept my right free to open doors, pry her inquiring hands off things, and such.

4. I read a lot of books. Lately, even more books than that. When I read a book I like, I then find every book that author wrote and read them, too. Once I was out of books to read, so I went back to school and got my master's degree in administration. Then I had a couple of years of reading to catch up on that I missed. Worked for me.

5. I do not like coffee. I know, it's Unamerican and maybe inhuman. But I don't like the smell of it or anything flavored with it. I love chocolate but dislike dark partly because it often has a coffee undertaste to it. I do not understand why anyone wants to stick hot water made with ground up old hard nuts into their mouths. I am surely not touching the kind made from coffee beans crapped out by civets. Eww.

I know I am supposed to tag 5 people. Remo told me to. So, I tag the first five people who read this who haven't been tagged yet. You are on the honor system. Have fun.

 

 

 

 

 

Regional words

I live in Michigan. When we drink Pepsi or Diet Coke, any soft drink, we call it 'pop.' When I travel, I try to remember to ask for 'soda' in restaurants, since most of the country calls it that. I think in Texas it's Coke. As in "what kind of coke do you want? We have Pepsi or Mountain Dew."

In Toronto, once, I ordered 'diet soda.' The response was that they don't carry soda, just pop, and if I wanted a diet Coke they had that. I had no idea that the term 'pop' was used much outside of Michigan and Ohio.

A friend of mine lives in California. We often discuss house stuff online because she is very into her home and I really am trying to convince myself to move. I have mentioned my 'doorwall' a few times over the years. She was totally unfamiliar with the term. She finally asked me last night what it is. She said every room has a wall with a door in it, and if I didn't like it I could maybe paint it or have a company come out and do something about it.

A 'doorwall' is a sliding glass door. One of those big jobbies that slides to the side? I have heard them called 'sliders' also.

Is 'doorwall' a local term? I have asked a few friends who live here and they are all totally familiar with the term. I just looked it up in Merriam-Webster, and they show no such word. After I gave it some thought, it does seem like a strange word, but I have heard it all my life.

Anyone else ever hear of a doorwall? Spell check didn't. 

I Scare Children

I have wanted to write this entry for months. I had to let my emotions die down a little bit first. I was reading yesterday and the book brought the topic to the front of my mind again. I was reading Devil's Corner by Lisa Scottoline. A character says, on page 7, "You're bossy for . . . a midget." This appears to be said with affection.

Twice I had read, in the same journal, that the writer is "afraid of midgets." Once, at least, it was spelled incorrectly. So I went to Merriam-Webster to see if there is a certain size that means midget. No, it just says smaller with normal proportions, but it also indicates "sometimes offensive."

Yes, it is. It is an offensive term unless you are using it as above in the book. Unless it is said with affection to someone you know who understands your meaning, it's an offensive term. It's the M-word, equivalent to the N-word, especially since it is sometimes used as seen in that journal, as in "afraid of."

I am 5 feet tall. The woman in the book is 5'2". There are numerous references in the book, written in the first person, about her being short. While I enjoy Ms Scottoline's books, her constant reference to height in this book reminded me of how I felt when I read those journal entries.

My mother was 4'10". I have an aunt who is 4'8". Should my aunt and I stay indoors, so we don't scare children? My mother is dead, so luckily she is no longer scaring people or offending them with her height. It doesn't matter if we have high IQs, good manners, nice grooming, or anything else. We scare people because we are closer to the ground.

If you want to really offend me, point out someone to me and say, "Look! That person is shorter than you are!" Be sure to say it loud enough so the other person can hear you. That way you can offend two of us. We will not, however, point and say, "Look! That person is fatter/dumber/smellier/older/younger/taller than you are. 

I used to add insult to injury because I was extremely thin. Do you have any idea what it's like to have people look at you and say, "I hate you. You are skinny." Once, someone said to me, "Hi, Skinny," and without thinking at all, I reacted with, "Hi, Fatty." I felt awful, I really did, but it was an unconsicous reaction, and I apologized more than once. She never did, of course. It's perfectly OK to constantly rant and carry on rudely about someone being too thin. No one ever asked me if I felt good about myself when I weighed under 85 lbs. To be honest, I didn't. It did not help to have people tell me they hated me over a medical condition.

I spent my formative years being reminded that I was short and that people hated me for being thin. Perhaps they assumed I didn't know these things about myself, so they needed to point them out to me? I laughed at names like Half Pint, Shorty, Little One, Little Bit, Red.

Did I forget to mention the red hair? Really, it's red-brown. Auburn. People have followed me around all my life and asked me what color dye I put on my hair. Some called me a liar when I said I didn't dye it. Strangers used to come up to me in public and grab a handful of my long hair and fondle it. They didn't ask permission; they just grabbed it and told me it was beautiful. It was nice to hear, but the touching part really wasn't appropriate from strangers. Ladies used to get mad when they would see my hair while I was in the hairdresser's and would ask their stylist to give them my color, and the stylist would tell them it can't be done. I can't even get my gray covered up without a major color change. It's just not a color - according to my stylist - "found in nature." I used to hate it, but I don't any more. I am now proud of it.

I have many times wished to be 5'4", 120 lbs, with brown/brown. At least I have the brown eyes, although I often hear, "I have never seen brown eyes that dark on a white girl."

Sigh. Sorry to whine, but I guess we redheaded midgets are like that.

The New System

Always on, Always Up-to-Date Virus Protection
For AOL Members, at No Extra Charge


Download AOL® Safety and Security Center


Online threats change every day. That's why the AOL® Safety and Security Center includes comprehensive virus protection. Its always-on, always up-to-date protection is updated every time you log on to the Web. So we can help protect your whole computer, not just your e-mail, from the newest viruses -- and you don't have to do a thing.

When you download the AOL Safety and Security Center, you'll get the most comprehensive set of online safety and security tools, including spyware and virus protection programs, a firewall, parental controls and AOL® Explorer for phishing protection.

 

This is what you will end up having to use. If you have never had Norton on your system, you will have no issues. You will click on Download Now, and it will just insert itself politely into your computer and all will be just fine.

I do not know why I had to do it and many of you haven't had to yet. My other computer hasn't been prompted for it. I suggest you just watch for the little McAffe M to turn into a McAfee M down in your tray. Then go up to "safety" on your menu bar and find the download.

If you want, I am sure you can jump the gun and do it now. Just be sure to get some items first to make a smooth transition. I suggest a bag of peanut M&Ms, a fork, some boiling water, and an axe. The axe is for last resort. A pencil and paper are a good idea if you end up dealing with the techs. Write down the session number and copy what they tell you in case they also lead you on a wild goose chase. You now know enough that if you have problems getting the anti-virus component to contact a tech and tell them you might have Norton and want instructions for getting rid of it. If it tells you it is cleaning off Norton, it is lying to you.

I think the new little security icon strongly resembles a powder blue pig, but that is just my opinion.

I have your safety and security right here

Anyone else wake up this morning to a black McAfee icon in their tray? I did, and wasn't happy. I am security conscious, after all, like a good girl. So I rooted around before signing on to figure out the problem.

It seems that AOL has decided to change the security system for the 9.0 Security Edition SE. I would say upgrade, but you will understand why I don't say that when you are done reading this. That is assuming you don't get bored and fall asleep like my behind did.

New system. No big deal, AOL is pretty user friendly. I started at 8 am, and found the button to click for the new Security and Safety Center. SSC. It takes a few minutes, but I got it done. No virus scan. No, that won't do. I need virus protection. I might have an incredible immune system, but my computer probably doesn't. It needs all the help it can get. So I fiddled with it, redid it a few times, checked the McAfee stuff, got mad, let the dogs out, asked boy toy for advice, tried a few more tricks. No anti-virus.

So I went for the help information, and read all that. By that time it was maybe noon? By 1 pm I had Spumoni ice cream for lunch. It was that bad. I would have had chocolate, but I don't have any. I looked at Molly, and she ran under the bed. Baby is excused due to her low, well, you know, brain thing. The cat stuck her nose in the air, laughed at me, and went down for her 18 hour nap.

What to do? I went to the live help. That is always so much fun. I know English is a second language, so they used pre-programmed answers. Hello, my computer doesn't work. Oh, yes, I understand that your computer doesn't work. My dog just crapped on the rug. Oh, I am very sorry your dog crapped on the rug. Did you try to reboot it? I can't get the anti-virus to load. I am sorry you can't get the antivirus to load. Did you try crapping on the rug first?

I took all his advice with a grain of salt, but I did what he said. The trick was, I had to go offline to do it. Smart guy. He escaped. I did what he told me to do. He told me to go and uninstall the anti-virus program. He wasn't listening, was he? I don't have one. So of course, there was nothing there to uninstall. I told him that, among other things, it kept telling me that it was going to clean off Norton Anti-Virus and SP2 and Firewall from my computer. I understand that your dog crapped on the rug. Did you try to uninstall the crap?

Needless to say, I contacted a second tech. She was very nice. She was sure she could help me. She even gave me her email address in case her suggestion didn't work. Too bad she never read the email. She told me to follow a path and delete the two files at the end. I explained that I not only don't have the path, but the files she wanted me to delete were not in that folder. I also told her about the removal of Norton and firewall and SP2. Well , by that time it gave up on SP2. I guess I need to check to be sure I still have it.

I tried a few more times to uninstall, reinstall, delete, color over and crap on anything I could think of. I was doing all of this with the computer cord wrapped around my neck, or held at odd angles. My socket thingie into the motherboard or whatever it is is broken. Or something. I know it's expensive, so I am ignoring it, although right now I can't get a charge at all. Maybe if I close my left eye and put the cord under my right arm....

Next I contacted the third tech. This was after 8 hours of attempting to get my anti-virus protection back. I was as polite as I could be to the lady. I really was, and I think she understood my frustration. She told me I had to go to the Symantec site and use a utility removal of Norton or something like that. I get lost in technical terms, although it turns me on to hear them. She gave me a link, and I went slumming.

Did I mention that I had already made a thorough search for anything from Norton on my computer? I went to the add/remove section and looked. I went to the programs area and looked. I went to search and deleted anything that came up. Not good enough, the lady tells me. So I did the utility removal thingie and went back to the SSC. Besides, the SSC kept telling me it was going to remove the software. Liar.

I don't like the SSC. It is not nice to me. But after 9 hours, I got my anti-virus coverage back.

Now how do I get my 9 hours back?

Ode to a List

I often lament over being in a house too big for me. I also lament my ability to be neat. I am clean, but neat can pass me right by. It's some place under the pile on my kitchen table.

Some things I know almost by instinct where they are. I have been in this house for 30 years. I might keep things in odd places, but I can find them in a second. Swim fins I haven't used in 25 years? On the second set of shelves in the basement, third shelf from the top, next to the old hair dryer you can actually sit under. Extra car key? In the candle holder on the top shelf in the middle section of my main bathroom's medicine cabinet. Of course it's the key to my daughter's car that she doesn't have any more, but I know exactly where it is.

I usually figure I know exactly where something is or I have no idea at all. No idea at all is a Very Bad Thing in this house.

My Christmas list is hand written on a few pages of typewriter paper. I would say printer paper, but it's older than that. I reuse it every year, writing out all cards by hand, adding some names, deleting others. The last time I rewrote the list from scratch was maybe 15 years ago. My friends must be pretty stable. I always keep it on the top left cubby of my desk that is in the middle bedroom upstairs.

I just decided a few minutes ago that I need to get the list, get the cards out, and get this done today. The list is not where it belongs. I have some very, very vague, very faint recollection of moving that list, thinking, well, if I want to find this again, I will have to reorganize better. I will find it, but I don't know when. I hate it when I move things.

If you were expecting a card from me this year, it might be six months late. It will be winter in Australia then; we can pretend we went on a walkabout. My list sure did.

Quiet time

Yesterday my daughter and I had plans to "go shopping." That translates to: "Mom watches Child shop for herself while Child pretends to Christmas shop for others."

It was rather a typical day for us when we get together. First, we had to arrange a day when she got up before I went to bed. Keep in mind, I am a night person myself. Need someone to talk to at 1 am? I am up. However, Child is just going out for the evening at 1 am.

After we choose a day and she doesn't get called in to work or get a better offer, and I don't either, we try to agree on the time. She told me she would call me when she got up. So, around 11 am I went out to the grocery store, the library, and to the pet food store. I took my time, got everything I needed, and felt no need to rush. I didn't need to rush, either. She called around 3 pm. I asked her if she was ready, and she said she was up, but still had to get ready.

After that, we had to make arrangements for where we were going and who was driving. This sounds easy, doesn't it? I live close to one major mall, and she is closer to another. I actually wasn't enthused about going to a large mall the week before Christmas, and certainly not that late in the day. I don't work, I can easily avoid crowds. So she got ready while I drove to her apartment.

I hadn't been there before. She moved out of here, when, in the wintertime still? She has been there since maybe April? I waited for an invitation. It seemed the polite thing to do. The apartment looks very nice. It should. All her crap is in my basement, garage, and her former bedroom. After telling her how nice it looked, I reminded her that I am not a storage facility. She told me she didn't want to mess up her apartment. I growled. She backed off.

We went to the large mall near her place. I drove. We ate at the mall, then proceeded to shop. This mall is set up in an oval, approximately a mile per lap. Loop. Whatever. However, Child does not walk in a straight line. She has a homing device embedded some place that gravitates to scarves. Yes. Scarves. She had to observe and fondle every scarf in the entire mall. There must be 100 stores or more in there. I own one scarf for winter. It's cashmere and it keeps me warm, as is it's intended job. Child likes winter scarves for accessories. Whatever.

Eventually, I suggested she buy a scarf for everyone on her list, since she knew where they all were and what they feel like. She did not buy any scarves yesterday.

After a few hours of scarf-fondling, she bought one gift for one friend and we left that mall. We went back to her apartment after arguing over my route for driving to the other mall that is by my house. She wanted me to take the freeway because it was "faster." I said if she was interested in "fast," she should not have fondled all the scarves in the mall. She decided she wanted to take the freeway and had me drop her off so we could meet at the second mall.

Exactly. She would still have to wait for me, right? However, I was right behind her and we hit all the scarves in that mall. That is a very up scale mall, so she got to fondle all the cashmere and other much more expensive fibers. She bought one gift. It wasn't a scarf. She also bought some things for herself.

Finally, thankfully, the mall closed. We went into the restaurant where she works so we could have some drinks. I felt I deserved that - other than dinner, I hadn't opened my wallet. I wasn't shopping, I was just enjoying my daughter's company. The arguing was gratuitous and friendly. Really. No shots were fired. No blood was shed.

We had a few beers while her co-workers stopped by to pay their respects. One said he wished his mom would have beer with him. He figured the best he could get would be tea with his mom. Child and I spent the time after the alcohol hit our brains arguing over her totally not-expected wedding plans. She has no plans to marry, but we have opinions for when the time comes.

We also argued over, I mean discussed, my feelings about gifts. I do not get any pleasure at all from working with a demand list. If you are expecting a gift from me, do not hand me a list, alphabetized, with little pictures, directions to the stores, and prices. I do not work that way. I think gifts should be a surprise. I also want my gifts to be a surprise. Therefore, I do not announce what I want. Child was mad about that,so I did casually throw things into conversations yesterday, such as, "I cannot find my dark brown socks." "I sure do like White Stripe's music." "Eminem's new song is awesome." "I never did find a dark red shirt in a petite size. You know, I can't wear regular sizes." And on and on, the best I could come up with.

Meanwhile, she was again ogling my Prada bag. She wants it bad. She really, really wants that purse. Sadly, so do I. My stuff is in it, I bought it. It's mine. She waited until I was almost done with my second beer (I am a cheap drunk. It's why drinking only on occasion is a good thing.) and managed to almost get me to agree to let her "borrow" it.

Today I went online and ordered the last gift I need to buy this year. If it doesn't come in time, I will download a picture for her. It's not exactly like mine, but it's fairly close. I needed one more nice thing for her.

We were gone 8 hours, and walked 5 miles through malls. I don't mind walking malls when no one is in them, but walking scarf to scarf for about 6 hours is mind numbing. so is Tsing Tao beer, but in a much nicer way. I sat down for that.

Molly held her pee all those hours, too. That is impressive for a beagle taking Prednisone every day. We won't talk about Baby, but hey, she was just as happy to see me as Molly was anyway :)

 

******

Please keep Molly in your thoughts. I have to take her next week for her 25-day Percorten shot, which means a major seizure at the vet. I will be taking her in the back door this time, hoping some sort of change-up will stop the seizures. The medication didn't.

Cherokee advice

OLD CHEROKEE ADVICE  ---  TWO WOLVES:

One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes
on inside people. He said, "My son, the battle is between 2 "wolves"
inside us all.

One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed,
arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false
pride, superiority, and ego.

The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility,
kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and
faith."

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked his
grandfather: "Which wolf wins?"

The old Cherokee simply replied, "The one you feed."

 

 

 

White day, green day, white day

Over a couple of days we accumulated about 4 inches of snow. It was cold, too. Thanksgiving morning it was 16 degrees, but the 'feels like' temperature with the wind was zero. Later in the day it warmed up to feels like 4 degrees. The snow hung around until last night.

Today, it's 64 degrees out. The record for today is 64 degrees, set in 1990. Actually I question the highs and lows for the weather on the My AOL page. We haven't had any record temperatures since 1999?

I had to go to the dentist this morning, so I decided to run some errands in the nice weather. That is, run errands before the rain started that they threatened us with. I told the dogs I was going out and Molly said 'treats mom, need treats, you need to buy more treats, I want treats. Get some food too, while you are out there. Feed me, I am hungry. Can you get more treats?' So I stopped at the required stores for what I needed. I even grabbed some dried papaya pieces and fresh broccoli and cauliflower.

I intended to get food for basically a Thanksgiving dinner, since I didn't cook and wasn't sent home with leftovers. I ate lightly on Thanksgiving because I don't like that over full, I am going to blow up feeling. Now I am hungry for turkey. I can have some friends over for dinner.

When a warm breeze brushed my face in the parking lot of the fruit market, I rushed home to take the girls for a stroll. We never get to walk outside this late in the year because it's always too cold for me. I grabbed several bags of groceries out of the trunk. Well, whatever you call the back end of an SUV. I had at least one more bag than I should have tried to carry. I had to stumble along the garage and try not to trip over my daughter's things, which are still here. They are everywhere here. I closed the garage door and went to enter the house.

Molly, let me in!

Did you get treats?

Come on Molly, unlock the door, I bought treats!

I can't smell them. Hold them by the bottom of the door. Did you get the right ones?

Molly, let me in, this stuff is heavy and if you don't unlock the door I am going to drop your treats all over the garage floor and the mice will eat them.

I don't believe you. I think you forgot to get the correct treats. Did you get me food, too? You know I like a variety of vegetables and fruits, not just boring kibble. The vet said I can have a lot of different things. I still don't smell the treats.

The treats are in plastic, Molly. Let me in, I have to pee.

Baby had to pee while you were gone. She had to poop too, but guess what. She doesn't need to any more. Be careful where you walk, OK? Where are my treats?

Open the door, Molly, and we can go for a walk, OK?

Walk? Outside? Walk? Smell rabbits and squirrels and eat goose poop? Can I have treats first? Get off my head, Baby, so I can let mom in. What is wrong with you? Can't you go sit down?

Molly? Let me in!

OK, but if you don't have the right treats, I am going to get even.

Mom, where is the turkey? You forgot the turkey, didn't you?

Sigh. Yes, I forgot the turkey. Hey, stop eating all the papaya! Dogs don't like that stuff!

Listen to me

I can see this is going to be one of those days where I have to write this entry 16 times because it keeps disappearing. That is OK, I have perseverance. Plus, now I can spell check words like that.

Yesterday was Molly's Shot Day at the vet's. This was shot #3. She had seizures the last 3 visits, so this time we had Dilantin for three days. I can say "we" because getting tablets into Molly takes much creativity, plus I usually end up wearing some of whatever medium of delivery I choose. Peanut butter, bread dough balls, chicken soup broth, Pill Pockets - I wear them proudly. She was given extra predisone in the morning also yesterday, to help her deal with stress.

It was about 16 degrees outside, so we didn't take a slow stroll up the street this time for distraction. We bundled up and went in the car. I packed my pocket full of treats, skipped the harnesses, so the girls just wore collars and leashes. It seemed a kind concession.

Not wanting Molly to have a seizure in the car in the same front bucket seat as Baby, I encouraged her to ride in the back seat. She has never done this before and dogs are more resistant to change than grumpy old men. She hopped right in and sat down. For the ride, which is just a couple of miles, I fed them treats. Molly was calmer in the car than usual, while Baby sat in the front shaking, yawning, panting, and occasionally screeching. Great, now I had to keep a close eye on both of them.

We disembarked in the usual way. That involves Baby getting out first by going over my head in a very ungraceful manner. Molly, of course, waited until I opened her door like a good servant, then she casually jumped down. They were then allowed to smell the pee other dogs had deposited for their entertainment along the grassy area. It was cold, so not too much sniff time was allowed.

Molly and Baby walked in the door right in front of me, tails up, excited to see what was going on inside. There were several people waiting, and I scanned immediately for children. If Molly collapsed, I did not want a child watching that. No children. Good.

The tech at the desk saw us, so I went to sit down. I noticed Mollywas just standing and gazing, so I started to say, "Molly, look at me," to get her attention, when she suddenly began the facial movements of a seizure. Within a second she was on the floor in a grand mal. I called out that Molly was having a seizure, and one vet came running out of the back, grabbed her and took her in the back room for treatment. I sat with Baby and cried. By the time I looked up, the lobby was clear and the techs were quiet.

Baby was not quiet. She was jumpy, nervous, and chattering away. She can resemble a monkey at times. I shushed her, and by that time Molly was peeking at me from an exam room. She had a fairly short seizure and didn't require a shot of Valium. So Baby and I joined her in the exam room to wait. I didn't even know if Molly had her Percorten-V shot for her Addison's yet or not, so we settled in to wait for the vet.

Meanwhile, we could hear people coming into the building. Baby is very gregarious and wanted to join everyone. Molly was busy alternating between resting on the floor and wagging her tail and smiling every time she heard a tech or vet she recognized. She really would perk up at the vet's voice outside our little room.

Baby, however, was not quiet at all. There is a small window in the door between the exam room and the waiting room. It's about 3 feet off the floor. Baby spent quite a bit of time jumping straight up in the air to see out the window. Even I sat there laughing out loud. I can only imagine how it looked from the other side - an empty window - a beagle face - an empty window - beagle ears flopping - an empty window - crash, she missed and bumped the door - an empty window - a beagle bay with a smiling face - she just went up and down and up and down. Molly and I watched her, but I decided not to stop her. It's like trying to hold down a tornado, and I wanted to watch Molly.

Baby has in the past conned me into holding her up to that window so she could look around, hopefully seeing Stacy, their favorite tech, but she has gained some weight along with Molly. I tried once, but Molly was giving me the soulful look, and I can't pick her up like that because of her neck. So Baby did the jack-in-the-box and Molly and I watched.

The rest of the time, Molly and Baby just generally milled around the small room, up and down off my lap and getting petted. They also relieved me of all the rest of the snacks in my pocket. Other than being a little quieter than usual, Molly showed no ill signs of having had a seizure.

Eventually, after about half an hour the vet came to get Molly for her shot. We talked about the seizure, and why Molly gets scared and what can we do to avoid it. She said obviously the Dilantin didn't solve the problem, that I did everything exactly right (I even put some Karo syrup on her gums in case hypoglycemia was an issue) and she would call the neurologist for Plan C.

The vet took Molly and left the exam room door to the back area open on her way out. I jumped up to close the door, but Baby was out like a rocket. I don't know if she was intending to find Molly or not, but Molly had gone to the left and Baby took off to the right. I was right behind her, skidding on the floor. Baby is friendly and wouldn't ever hurt anyone else or another pet, but she is, well, friendly. Most of the doors were closed and I almost had my hand on her collar when she found an open door.

In the room we found a very large Irish Wolfhound, trying to get on his owner's lap. These dogs are HUGE. Baby was so excited, she wanted to play with him. I apologized to the owner, and grabbed Baby's collar. I was dragging her back to our room, which the vet staff watched and giggled, "escapee" comments being made.

Halfway back to our room, she slipped her collar. Full of excitement and joy, she skidded in mid-stride around to go back to see the Wolfhound. Yikes! I made a decent 180 turn and reached for her - but she made it back to the Woflhound. It must have been love at first sight. By this time, even the owner was laughing with us. I apologized again, reached down, and picked up 30 lbs of squirming steel.

The vet staff was now clapping for me. I half expected to see cards held up with numbers from 1-10 on them. I carried the wiggly thing back to our room, set her down, and crashed on the seat. She went back to the jack-in-the-box routine.

Molly was returned by the vet. The vet told me that Molly is an elegant lady. While this certainly pertained partly to Molly's exquisite behavior (beyond the ungraceful seizure), it probably also referred to my Other Dog with the over-active behavior. We again discussed Molly's illness and how to avoid seizures.

After signing over another bank account, we all went outside and the girls managed to find every mud puddle in the parking lot. Once their feet were nice and filthy, I opened my car door on the driver's side and Baby bounced in and left muddy footprints on my seat, then on her seat. Molly waited for me to open the back door for her. She needed help getting in, then sat down quietly like a lady. I swear she crossed her ankles.

We came home without further incident, and they were led into the house. They went to sleep. I gave more thought to Molly's fear of the vet.

Then it hit me. She goes willingly, although she does not like the car. She gets out of the car willingly. She goes in the door ahead of me, head up, tail up, with Baby at her side. THEN she has the seizures.

Addison's Disease means that stress can kill Molly. It can be good stress or bad stress. I think my happy, social dog is just so excited and happy to see the techs and the vet that she is unable to handle it. She has always loved the vet's office, both of them do. We are not approaching this correctly. She needs to be calmed from being happy. She is not terrified.

There may be a third possibility, but Molly isn't afraid to go to the vet's office. She doesn't even tuck her tail when they take her for her shot and she comes back looking like the kid who gets a sucker at the dentist. The techs always tell me that no matter what, she wags her tail at them and licks their face.

I thought I was listening to Molly, but maybe I wasn't.However, the vet tells me that Addison's does not cause seizures.

 

Pick a color, any color

Today we had a few inches of wet, heavy snow. It's the kind that freezes in the night and is no fun at all to drive in. It started snowing around noon, so about 5 pm, when it was getting dark and it was the worst part of rush hour, Molly told me to go get her some more of those treats she likes because we don't have enough to last through the holiday weekend and mom is not going near stores after today until some time next week, at the soonest.

I figured the first snowfall of substance deserves the right jacket. So, I went into my hall closet and went through the items. I ruled out long coat immediately. They are not comfy for sitting in traffic. I ruled out lightweight spring jackets. While it was only about 32 degrees, and I could manage with a fleece sweatshirt, if there was an accident and I had to get out of the car, I would get cold.

Then I ruled out both black and the one brown leather jacket because I was going to a pet food store. After that, I went through the 'regular' winter jackets.

The white one was wrong for a pet food store, too. Too, um, dressy, festive, girlie, something, plus no hood. Need a hood in the blowing snow, so that left out the short black one too. The pinkish 3/4 length coat is too light. The navy jacket is a little tight. The black Burberry is too nice for a pet food store, and the green Burberry is not heavy enough for the cold.

Hm. What's left? The red jacket didn't match my shirt and the Abercrombie one doesn't have a hood, either. It has a pocket for a CD player, but I didn't need that.

I decided on the lightish blue parka that I bought last October in Chicago.

I also decided I have way too many jackets.

Deer Dragging

Molly says thanks for asking, she is doing rather well. She is attempting to see how close she can get to looking like a pot-bellied pig. I guess we all have our goals in life. I have cut her prednisone to 2.0 mg from 2.5 mg, but her appetite has not yet dropped. Baby is of course just fine, and the oldest cat in the world is, well, old.

Obviously I love animals. I always find delight in them. Last summer I wrote of a katydid that was on my window ledge, and I was able to see it breathe. I have never before seen an insect's sides move in and out like that. It was awesome.

Today is Sunday, which means getting up and getting out of the house and driving 15 miles to a local mall to walk for miles. Maybe I should just walk to the mall, but it's a bit far and this time of the year it's a bit cold.

I vary my route, and today's route took me down a road that is in the process of developing. One side of the road has new condos and businesses, and the other is mostly woods/swamp/field. I was a big groggy this morning, having been up until after 2 am. That isn't unusual for me, but maybe I was a little groggier than normal.

As I was driving west, I realized that on my right were two female deer. One must be careful at times like these. Deer are worse than squirrels for darting out in traffic and cause much more havoc. I have not personally had the experience yet, but I have heard it's much like suddenly hitting a brick wall you didn't see coming. Cars get total, deer get killed or maimed, drivers are killed or maimed. So I slowed down, very cautiously. No one else was around, so I had this gift of nature to myself.

I went slowly both for caution and so I could study the ladies. They are beautiful animals and very graceful. They can be playful. I realized after a few seconds that these two were in a playful mood. They started to race me.

There I was driving down the road with two deer on the side of the road racing me.

My camera was at home, and anyway I needed to keep one eye on the road and one eye on the deer to be sure they didn't decide to turn left without signaling. I swear they were enjoying the pure delight of being free to run and race a car. I believe they smiled at me.

For about half a mile, they paced my car. I confess, I didn't try very hard to get away. Eventually, though, I decided it was safe enough and went ahead of them and on to my destination.

Only to be met by a large gaggle of geese. I thought geese would have had enough sense to have flown to some warm southern clime by now. I sure would, if I had wings. There they were, about a dozen of them on one side of the road and a dozen on the other side. If you don't have geese in your area, let me tell you that they have a way of blocking traffic by walking across the street, one at a time, in a row, and taking their darn time at it during rush hour, too. This being a Sunday morning, they were early for rush hour. They stayed as they were, with only one in the road. He was in the other lane, so I was able to pass them without incident. They didn't race me.

After that, my only encounter with nature was a raccoon that had tried to race someone else and had lost the race. It was a sad moment to see the remains, as raccoons are fun to watch, grasping things with their little prehensile toes.

 

Finally in 5 digits~!

This Journal has been read times since its creation on March 3, 2004.   Wooo!!              

The Elephant

I have been trying, unsuccessfully, to post this entry. I apologize if you suddenly get ten of them!

Normally I am willing to take a stand on almost anything. I can be decisive and determined and all that. Somehow, this banner ad thing just didn't fire my blood up as much as some. I noticed we get ads on our email, on our entry alerts, and just about every where else. Still, the issue looms on my computer screen like a huge, uninvited elephant, glaring me in the eye and daring me to do something.

I do intend to write some emails to AOL giving my opinion. I do find the ads to be misplaced inside of our journals. While we do not own this space, it *feels* like ours, like it is our private domain and an ad in it is a violation of personal space. It is vaguely like being groped in a crowd, or having someone peek in a window late at night.

Still, this is our community, and I don't want to empower anyone to take that away from us. The community, the friendships, the sharing, those things we developed on our own. Those are ours. No one can put a banner on them. We can't even touch it, it's something deep inside us that is inviolable. For me, that special bond we have transcends banner ads, especially since we can block them.

As an atheist, I will fight for your right to practice your chosen religion. I will also fight for your choice to try to eliminate the banner ads from our journals. I don't know if we can be successful, but I can say it makes me very sad to see people scattering to the winds to other blogs. The sense of community is shedding, and that is so sad.

Just where is this new spellcheck button? I don't seem to have one. Surely, as usual, I made up at least one word. (-and it's not 'inviolable' - which I looked up, since I wasn't sure it was a word but it sounded right to me, and it said no such word. So I looked in the Thesaurusunder untouchable, and found pretty much nothing. So I looked again under something else, maybe sacred, and found inviolable. Odd dictionary system eh?)

 

~~Finally with the help of a few friends I was able to get my journal working again! Probably I will have to go back into this entry and fix the paragraphs, since I had it pasted in Word.

 

Guard and conserve

You don't want me to be your legal guardian. Oh, I make a good enough conservator. I will watch your funds and be sure your bills are paid. I won't hand over piles of cash to your son the gambler, even though you did. I won't pay my bills from your account. No fuzzy accounting, no cooked books.

However, you do not want me as your guardian. I believe in quality of life. Medical science is like magic these days and can cure or stabilize almost any disease. But if you have me as your guardian, and you are totally vegetative, I am going to pull your plug. It might hurt like hell, and I might drip tears on the forms to be signed, but I will do it.

I would not do it for me, because I am tired of the situation, or tired of having to keep going to see you. I would do it because no one deserves to hae so much loss of self and dignity that machines keep them alive when there is no hope whatsoever for any cognitive function ever again.

I was both conservator and guardian for my mother. She had terminal lung cancer that had spread. My brother, my nephew, and I provided 24/7 hands on care for her at home for six months. She was alert, but pretty helpless. She lost use of her legs once the cancer had metastasized into her spine. My brother, my nephew and I all worked full time. The schedule was exhausting, but we had promised no nursing home care. We had care providers coming to the house for things we were not skilled to do.

I remember lifting my mother myself to put her on the portapotty seat. She was totally dead weight. I was about 100 lbs, she was about 80. It still wasn't easy for my to lift her with no assistance from her at all. I am grateful I was strong from martial arts, and grateful that I never dropped her.

Eventually, she was hospitalized. I signed for the do not resuscitate order. She knew I would. She knew I was the one family member who would make decisions based on what she wanted and not what I wanted. She did not want to linger or suffer. More than once I asked the doctors to raise her morphine dose. Eventually, they did raise it enough. She died peacefully in her sleep with no codes, no crushed ribs, and no hoopla, just the way she wanted it.

I feel the same way about myself, and have slowly tried to get the thought planted in my daughter's mind not to artificially keep me alive if there isn't any hope. I hope if she is ever faced with the choice, she will make the right one. Yes, I can make up papers ahead of time, taking the choice out of her hands. But if she doesn't feel right with it, it will haunt her forever.

Sigh, some families hand down recipes for cheesecake as tradition.

Hurry up and get dressed!

All parents are familiar with the "hurry up and get dressed or you will be late for school!" routine. It was a daily litany around my house when my daughter was growing up. I wonder if her roommate has to tell her to get dressed before work or she will be late?

I have a new wrinkle on this topic. Y'all know I have a sick beagle who has seizures when she goes to the vet now. I joined a bulletin board/support group for owners of dogs with Addison's disease. Sure, my vet can tell me about medication and other medical issues, but these people live with this disease on a daily basis. It's not like our dogs can clearly enunciate what they are feeling.

I tossed out the seizure issue and received some suggestions on ways to calm Molly. One suggestion that several people employ is to tightly wrap the dog into a t-shirt. Dress my dog, in other words. Well, whatever it takes, right? Not wanting her to miss the security idea of the t-shirt (a dirty one that smells like me for comfort, of course) by associating it with the vet trips, I decided to do a trial run.

Molly was outside, so I did Baby first. I only had one dirty t-shirt so she got a nightshirt. Not just any nightshirt. A Disney one, in hot pink, with the cheshire cat on it. I bought it at Disneyland in 1988. Feel free to do the math. It's a favorite.

Did you ever try to dress a dog? These are beagles, not labs or goldens. They aren't going to just take abuse. They are more, shall we say, hyper? High strung? To my surprise, Baby just stood there. She is the skittish one. Noises make her start, and she has a habit of retreating quietly when threatened by the unknown. Not fearful, but wary, sort of wolf-like. I guess it's true that dogs are mostly colorblind, because she stood perfectly still for me to stick a hot pink nightshirt on her backwards. That means she had the big cheshire cat grinning on her back.

Nice look, Baby, but it's huge. Her nightie was dragging on the floor. So I bunched it up at the bottom and tied a knot. Oh, very attractive. But her sleeves were to the floor and about to catch on her dew claws. Hm, I never have that problem when I wear it. It's short sleeved and I trim my dew claws. So I tried to rollup the sleeves. They fell back down. I tried knotting them up, but they were too small for that. I tied them together on her back, but when she walked, the knot came undone.

Last option, I tied the sleeves together at her chest. It seemed to pull a little when she walked, so she pretty much just stood there, wary. Maybe she was afraid there was some sort of beanie to go with the outfit. I tried very hard not to laugh, but was pleased that she allowed this effrontery without complaint.

Poor Molly was outside totally oblivious to her potential fate. I let her in, and grabbed the gray t-shirt for her. She looked at me, and dropped her head. She had already seen Baby looking like a tart. I put it over her head, and the fit was better. I knotted the bottom, since I now had some experience. The rest was not a bad fit, considering she was dressing transspecies. Perhaps some nice beads for an accessory.

She refused to move much, either. Molly is very expressive, and she begged me to remove it. I didn't see any signs of her feeling secure in a t-shirt. Sorry, but I was laughing too hard to take any pictures. Besides, Molly threatened to drool on my pillow tonight if I did, or worse.

Second choice is to consider using a different vet for the next blood tests to  see if she reacts the same way. This was my idea, and I think it has some merit. The smells should be slightly different, and the people all new. Perhaps it will not trigger a seizure. I plan to pre-medicate both of us, too. Baby can drive home.

I needed a laugh today

Copy of an email I received this morning:

Barrister.steve martin LLB HONS)
Legal Equity Law Firm
144 Nuxley Road, EA2 JG34
London ,UK.

Dear Sir\Ma,
I am Barrister. steve martin Attorney to late Mr.Morris Thompson an American
who lost his life in plane crash involving Alaska Airline's Flight 261 which
crashed on January 31st.2000, including his wife and only daughter. Mr
Morris Thompson,aged 61 hailed from Fairbanks, Alaska in United States of
America.He was one of the states's most prominent native and business
leader.All these you are very free to verify from the we blink below for
more information and clarification about his socio-economic status until his
death;
www.cnn.com/2000/US/02/01/alaska.airlines.list and
www.nativefederation.org/history/people/mThompson.html
Before the demise of my client,he disclosed to
me his account status which amounted to £40.5million British Pounds
Sterling (Forty million five hundred thousand British Pounds).He

also handed over to me some vital copies of documents regarding this
fund already trapped at Natwest Bank London,England.
I was at the last burial rights on February,5th,2000
to pay my final respect to Late Mr.Morris Thompson.There I made
thorough inquiries about his kins but,discovered no one relay knows about
this fund currently sited at Natwest bank London.
Since then,I have made successive attempts to get his next of kin or
relative to come forth and claim this fund but to no avail.And as personal
attorney to my late client, I cannot in any way claim it unless someone
overseas does so.
I must not hesitate to inform you that just forth night ago, I received a
routine notification from Natwest Bank London a concerning
this fund, and the officials of this bank issued a warning,
stressing the urgency for late Mr.Morris Thompson's relative or
next of kin to come forward to claim this fund immediately or they
will have it confiscated and forwarded to the nation's treasury
account as an unclaimed fund.This is the agreement they have reached at
the bank and they also reiterated that this is according to their banking
guidelines.
HERE IS MY PROPOSAL;
Owing to the fact that his only daughter who stands a
better chance of claiming this fund,also perished in that fatal
air crash,I want you to stand in as the next of kin to late Mr.
Morris Thompson.
Like I earlier asserted,I have in my possession the
necessary documents that will enable me to place you in,as the
right beneficiary to my late client's fund in this bank.
Be informed that upon successful transfer of this money into your
account,you shall have 35% of it as your share.I must remind you that
honesty and trust, transparency must be our watchword in the course of
this transaction.

N:B, This transaction is confidential and risk free. PLEASE do not contact
me on any number or email address, except the one I have clearly stated in
this mail.You can only contact me on my
email address Email;francisokolie_2005@yahoo.com
I will discuss with you in details when I receive your
response.
Please include the following in you reply;
(1.)Your Name in full.
(2.)A reliable phone and Fax number
(3.)Occupation
(4.)Company Name (If any)
(5.)Company or Business Address
(6) A photocopy of your International passport
I look forward to receiving your reply soon.
Yours faithfully
Barrister. steve martin
Legal Equity Law Firm ( Attorneys and Solicitors)

I will dream of Genie

That is the correct spelling - Genie. I had a garage door encounter today.

The story goes back farther than that, though. We had some major winds here on Sunday. They were strong, with gusts up to 60 mph. When I left the mall after walking, I immediately had a new hairdo. Then a leaf smacked me in the face, and it hurt. A leaf. Hurt. Yes.

After I got home, the power went off. And on. And off. And on. And off. And on. Over and over, all day long. It was never off very long, but then it never stayed on very long, either. It went off once after dark, so I grabbed two flashlights, some matches, a lighter, and lit a candle. I can't read in the dark, right? It went back on, and stayed on the rest of the night.

Monday it went on and off a few more times. I was lucky, since many areas around me have been completely without power. Mine was really never much more than a flicker. It was enough to be annoying when I was trying to do laundry, but not a real issue.

Today I had plans to meet a friend for lunch, then rush to class to help teach a PhotoShop class. I took a shower in my master bath, which has a window, so I didn't have any lights on. I noticed the water got cool a bit too soon, and I made a mental note to check out the hot water heater. I got dressed, then tried to dry my hair.

The power had been out since I went in the shower. It didn't flicker. My car, of course, was in the garage. Leaving the garage requires electrical power to open the garage door opener. I decided for once not to wait until the last second and went to the garage to learn how to open the door manually. Without the manual, since I didn't have time to dig it up.

This is a 2.5 car garage. Until four years ago, I had the original door and opener that were installed in 1977. There was never a problem with them until one very icy cold, snowy January morning when I had to leave at 7:30 am for work. I had them replaced. The newer door is lighter, and I hoped I could lift it.

I grabbed the little handle hanging down from a rope and pulled. I heard a "click," reached for the bottom of the door, and pulled upa bit. It was off the Genie power tract and working manually. I went back in the house to finish getting ready.

As I was on my way out the door, I heard the refrigerator go back on. Oh boy, I didn't need to open the garage door manually.

So, I went to the button to open the door and pushed. The Genie made a nice noise, but of course the door didn't go any place because I had disengaged it. I growled a bit, said some magic words, and grabbed the bottom of the door. I heaved it upwards.

It came back down.

I heaved a few more times, and it came back down. I could not get it to lock open and stay up. I piled up two garbage cans, and then realized my SUV was too high for that. I looked at the tall ladder, and decided to try to re-engage the lock.

Right. I had no idea how to do that. I was already late. I had bits of dirt and grass in my hair, on my clothes, and down my neck. My hair, of course, was still wet and pulled into a ponytail. I tried grabbing the handle on the rope and getting it to "click" again. No joy.

I got the 2-step ladder and got closer to the parts. I don't know what they are called, but that is where I heard something "click" in disengagement, so surely it must click back in somehow. I felt all around for a lever or button. None, of course. I finally grabbed the *thing* and pushed it upwards. "CLICK."

Smiling and proud of myself, I opened the garage door as it should be opened - via button. I left, and called my friend to let her know I would be late.

On the way, a pickup truck went over the center line and was heading right for me on a two-lane highway. While I was trying to read the name of the utility company that would make my daughter rich, the driver woke up and corrected his path. Whew.

Lunch was good. My friend and I had a good laugh over the door issue. I ate less than half of my chicken scallopini and took the rest with me. She told me of a friend who has a beagle puppy she doesn't want and asked if I want it - yes, I want it, and no, I can't have it now.

By now my hair was mostly dry, but I left it in the ponytail due to rubber band patterns.

I rushed to class. I agreed to coach this class so I could brush up on my PhotoShop skills. I remember almost nothing from the PhotoShop 2.0 class I did before, and this is 3.0, so I was glad to know there would be three coaches.

It's easy to guess, right? I was the only coach who showed up. Luckily, we covered just basic stuff and I had no problem with it. I definitely looked like I knew what I was doing.

When I went to Toronto at the end of September (I have ADD with topics, so I don't even bother to try to segue, OK? Just try to keep up.) I came home with a urinary tract infection. I don't get pain from them, so I ignored it. Finally last week I decided to get treated. For some reason, once I was on the antibiotic, I started to hurt. A lot. I was miserable all during class. I have been miserable since Friday.

I was so glad to get home. The garage door opened as expected, so the power was still on. I breezed into the house with my carry out box in one hand, PhotoShop Elements manual in the other, newspaper and mail under my arm. My dogs were so happy to see me, that Baby jumped up, used all 28 pounds in a forward motion, and hit my abdomen with her front feet.

Baby is still alive. She runs fast, and I was bent over, which slowed me down.

Uh oh

Mothers of the world cringe at the sound of "uh oh." Second choice is "oops!" Something has been spilled, permanently defaced, damaged, or has lost an appendage. Cringe time for mothers.

Thursday late afternoon I took the beagles out for our daily sniff, which has replaced our daily long walk. Molly is doing well with it and has been enjoying doing the beagle thing of tracking rabbits and squirrels. The sniffs seem to animate her, which I hope is good for her recovery and eventual stabilization.

In order to go on a dog walk, or sniff, I have to load up like a cop. I need a pocket to store what Baby will do that has to be scooped up. I need two bags for the stuff that has to be scooped in case Molly decides she suddenly needs to do it too, which was once all summer. I take my spare house key, my pedometer, and my cell phone. The phone is for identification and in case there is an emergency with me or the dogs. There are pot holes in the field, or Molly could get very ill. I feel safer with the phone and won't go without it. So I loaded up, and added a jacket with pockets big enough for Baby's daily deposit.

We had a good sniff, and returned home at doggy dinner time. I unloaded the bags (unused for once), the keys, the pedometer, the jacket, and prepared the doggy dinner.

Our evening was quiet. In the morning, I had jury duty selection, and was in a hurry because I didn't get moving very fast. I had to get the dog treats off the top of the refrigerator and break one in half, giving Molly her medication inside of it. I gave them several treats, and rushed out the door for court.

If you missed two items that I should have handled there, you are doing better than I was.

Uh oh.

First of all, I did not unload the cell phone. I didn't miss it, either. Before court, even before 8 am, my house phone rang. My friend's husband called. I assumed the worst, that something happened to my friend, as he has never called here before. No, he had received a call that his wife was listed ona cell phone found by the school behind me and my friend's number was on it. Yes, it was my phone, and I was given a number to call.

It turned out that one of my neighbors in my subdivision is a high school principal in Bloomfield Hills and was out early in the morning walking his dog in the same field where I walk mine. The dog found my phone. So after court I had to run over to the high school and get my phone. Yes, I felt like an idiot.

Then I came home and realized the other step I missed. The dogs ate almost a full huge bag of treats. I left it on the counter and they were able to jump enough to snag it. I must have caught them in the act, because the bag wasn't empty. Usually they will eat most of the bag, too. Baby still had some in her cheeks, giving her chubby little chipmunk cheeks.

Oops.

Ha Ha to Baby! Nah Nah!

See, Baby? Everyone loves me better! Ha ha to youuuu!! I got many more comments than you did! I bet I am superior because I am the dominant dog in the house, well established and kept in check every time I hump your silly head! Nah nah!

Hey get that cat off me!! What is this? Hey, who gave the cat permission to climb on top of the refrigetator to get my treats? Hey, cat, hey Wiz, can you teach me to climb like that? OK, OK, the cat is in charge. Ouch, that hurt! I thought you were declawed!

Mom! Mom!! Help!

Geez, act like you aren't really sick for a few hours around here and you really lose your place, don't you?

Hey, who said Baby could play with my toys?

Why do I have to whack that servant bell myself when I need something?

Love, Molly

 

ps - I really do love Baby. Without her, I would not have anyone below me on the totem pole here. Besides, she is fun to play with. We are always, always together :)

What about ME?

You know, it's always about Molly, isn't it well I don't get it I mean the poor girl did fall down at the vet's office yesterday and was doing a very strange dance and then they scooped her off the floor like the stuff I leave behind when mom leaves the house but I didn't get why mom and I had to sit quietly for so long and wait for Molly to get her medicine and come back because you know I thought I smelled another dog in the waiting room and I kept trying to get out the door of the exam room they put us in and I kept jumping up and down off mom's seat and she just sat there and was sad and cried I wanted to play didn't anyone notice me? Mom was trying to pet me and hug me but I wanted to go play with that other dog I did smell another dog I am a beagle with a very sensitive nose you know. In fact, I can tell you that the other dog got treats before coming to the vet's office and I wanted some too so I don't see why I couldn't go play with that dog I don't get it, do you?

Mom is still sad today so she said I could have a turn with the writing because Molly had a turn yesterday because I was too busy trying to see if I could run through the house without having to make turns that dig my nails into the carpet and I bet I could if mom would move that baby gate that slows me down hey you don't think that is why she put it there do you because I like to run and run in the house because it feels good to run any place and I sure do miss those 3 mile daily walks although  I am enjoying the much shorter ones in the mowed field where mom lets us smell stinky stuff as long as Molly doesn't eat the goose poop. Even I won't touch that, although it does smell interesting and a lot of rabbits and squirrels hang out in that field and it's so exciting sometimes we find a squirrel or rabbit and suddenly take off after it only we are on leashes and mom's arm seems to get longer but most of the time we are real ladies on leash and don't pull but when we smell rabbits and squirrels we are just noses with feet and can't help it.

Mom says I have too much energy and I am like an energizer bunny but I think she means that in a good way don't you? She also says I have two speeds high and off and that I sleep like a corpse because I get so tired from playing so hard all the time well yeah I don't like to be bored but when I stop just sort of zzz fall asleezzzz.

Two weeks ago when we went to the vet and Molly had her second petite mal seizure mom told the vet that she had it sooner in the visit just outside the exam room while the first one had been in the exam room after a few minutes and mom thought the next time (which was yesterday) would end up being worse and sooner in the trip and the vet said not necessarily so but mom asked for something to pre-medicate Molly to try to avoid worse seizures that came sooner and the vet said let's wait and see even though mom very much didn't want to see what did happen and now mom is worried that it will happen in the car next time which would be really dangerous for all of us.

The vet did call the doggie neurologist as she promised who said that Addison's disease does not indicate seizures and did mom understand that although the vet admitted they really don't know for sure as there have definitely been other dogs with the same combination of problems and mom mentioned that it is odd that both started at the same time and the vet said the neurologist, the doggie specialist with lots of years of training said probably the best thing to do is to get something to pre-medicate Molly to hopefully stave off the seizures.

I don't get why mom let out a big sigh when she got off the phone, do you?

Molly just wanted to know if it was time to eat yet it's nice that I don't have to beg for food any more because Molly begs about every three minutes around the clock and I am gaining weight too because mom treats us fairly and I get more stuff too it's great except that mom and the vet decided to cut Molly's prednisone in half again in a few days and that will kill her appetite a bit so I might have to go practice my I am starving look and see if mom starts to fall for it she really isn't all that easy when it comes to giving us extra food but I sure hope I don't ever almost die so I can get more food since I did have such a nice trim little athletic body until Molly got sick maybe I will have it again soon huh do you think so after all I do burn up a lot of calories every day oh look that chair looks comfy I uh forgot um hey it is still comfy and er zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Love,  Baby

I scared mom again

I have Addison's disease, which requires a shot normally every 28-30 days, so my mom made an appointment for me to get my shot at 27 days, since she has jury duty on the 28th day. Like court is more important than I am?

Mom has been very worried about my return visit because the last two times I had petite mal seizures at the vet's office and I have never had them before. Every day she has sat down with me, looked me in the eyes, and told me that I have to go, that if I don't get the shot I will die, and that it won't hurt but for a minute. Every day. Sometimes more than once a day.

My body must metabolize the percorten fast, because last Friday I started to slow down. Mom noticed I was sleeping more and getting weaker. This morning she went to bed at 3 am, and I got her up at 7 am because I had to throw up. Twice. We went back to bed for a little while, but only Baby and I were able to sleep. Mom knew I was going to have to get my shot today.

Mom called the vet's office and had to decide between making a morning appointment before my extra dose of prednisone kicked in to help with stress, or wait until the afternoon when I could be in a serious crash. She opted for 10:45 am and talked me yet again about it. I listened, I really did. Every time she told me I tipped my head right and left, and tried to accept it.

First we went for a little walk so I wouldn't be stressed by getting right in the car. The ride is only two miles, and this time I shook less. I hardly shook at all, and mom was petting me and telling me I was doing great. She was very calm, and I was calmer than the last two times. We were proud. Baby was sitting on my head, but it was OK because I was calmer.

We got to the vet's office, and mom let us smell the bushes and pee in the grass first. It did distract us some. Well, that and the treats in her pocket. They smelled really good.

But once I went into the building, I didn't last long. I went into a very bad grand mal seizure. I fell down and shook all over. This is what they tell me, anyway. I don't remember. Mom watched me in case I hurt myself. This is something she will never forget. The vet came and got me off the floor and someone tried to take Baby away from mom because she was crying, but she wouldn't let go of Baby.

I was given a shot of valium, they tell me. I wasn't aware of it, so I feel I was drugged against my will. However, that stuff is pretty good, so feel free to hit me up any time. Then they gave me my percorten, drew some blood for electrolytes to be sure that 25 days will be my cycle for shots, and returned me to mom and Baby. The assistant had to carry me because I was loopy.

We were happy to be together again and mom gave me my treats.

Mom and the vet talked about me, but I didn't understand it very well. Something about Addison's does not cause seizures and the vet is going to talk to a neurologist about me. I might need medication every day, even though I only seize at the vet's office. I can't have stress. I think anything that stresses me now can cause seizures for me. Mom has been home with me for the last month trying to get me stabilized and keeping me calm and happy. Mom suggested desensitizing me to the car and going places, but the vet said to wait and see what the neurologist says. I don't like the car and never have. 

Mom is really worrying now about what will happen in 25 more days. I don't remember anything about it. Mom is afraid next time it will happen even sooner, which probably means in the car, and Baby and I ride in the front seat together. I don't like change, and making us ride in the back might stress me. The vet told mom she can't give me the shots herself, although she did offer. The vet said the pills don't work as well and they always end up having to go back to the shots.

The percorten helped and I am feeling a little perkier again. The valium wore off, and I am very hungry since mom doubled my prednisone today.

Are you going to eat that?

Love, Molly

Bolt A, slot B, tab C

The picture is of my patio set, still in the boxes in my car. I had to remove those myself. They were not light. I had to drag them around to the back of my house and try to set the pieces up. You might recall that I had a spot of trouble getting the correct part after I found that one was broken?

The part came when Molly got sick. Of course.

Today we went for another mile walk in the field behind my house. Beagles are bred for endurance and to track things. They found a rabbit, a squirrel, and 5 other dogs. I found mascara, a hair band, a child's plastic watch and a golf ball. I am learning, although they said I am an amateur because I didn't find them using my nose.

After the walk I crabbed to myself a bit about inappropriate gender role assignments. It was time to assemble the patio set, even though Tuesday is November and I live in Michigan. I grabbed the new parts and the tools off the dining room table and went out on the patio. The table was still upside down where I abandoned it in disgust, glass against the paver stones with just a thin layer of cardboard for protection. The cardboard was totally soaked and mushy, and there was a large nightcrawler under it. With the legs up, the table resembled a pathetic dead bug on its back, missing one leg, of course.

I started reading the directions. Of course, they were wrong. The bolts and the washers were not preassembled as the directions stated. No big deal. However, the next item was to attach all four legs. I did that, once I screwed in the new replacement parts. After that, I had to attach a ring to the midpoint of the legs with the bolts for stability. There was no way to attach the ring without removing at least one of the legs first. I hope the little girls next door did not learn some new words today.

After I unattached the leg and reattached it and the ring and tightened the bolts, the next item was to "have someone assist you and turn the table upright." Great. The little girls two doors down probably learned some new words, too. This table top is glass. If I dropped it, it would become garbage.

Luckily, I was able to turn the table upright without scraping any of the finish off the legs or breaking the glass. The worm was surprised to be free to roam about the patio and took off for parts unknown. Probably went south for the winter, and who could blame it? I say 'it' not out of disrespect, but because I think worms are not divided into hes and shes.

I have decided that there is no reason whatsoever for me to try to assemble the umbrella this year. We won't have another day before May or so where the temperature goes as high as 70 degrees, so the table will just have to be abandoned until then. I bought this patio set in July, right? Maybe next July I can use it. With my luck the umbrella is the wrong one and I will have to return it three times to get the correct one to match the rest of the set.

I also bought a large storage bin for the cushions, since they are of a cotton fabric that cannot be left outside in the elements. A bit of indulgence, I guess, but the cushions are very comfortable. Of course, the bin was the last one and has a bashed in corner on the bottom piece. I brought it inside to see if I can repair it somehow and make it waterproof. It's also a bench to sit on, so I will have to make the repair strong and stable. For now, the piece is leaning against the wall while I think about how to repair it. I don't want to open the bin in the spring and find it full of lots of wildlife who nested in the cotton stuffing, nor do I want to find it all musty and mildewy. Is that a word, mildewy?

Bottom Feeders

Since I have had to rearrange my walking schedule to accommodate Molly's illness, I have decided to continue to walk 3 miles a day - on an average. So all I need to do is keep track of my mileage and have it average out to 3 a day. I know it used to be more, since I walked more than just with the dogs, but I have to start some place. So far, as of today, I am ahead. I started yesterday and walked 8 miles last night. That gave me 5 extra. I walked the dogs for one today, which leaves me with 3 extra. Or something like that.

Molly does love her walks, even if they are too much for her now. Yesterday I took them for a mile (oh, I forgot to add that one in!) and we ran into another dog. This isn't good; it's stressful for Molly. Today I decided to hit the big field in back of my house. I don't know what it's doing there, but it's huge, and the city mows it. It's at least 3 acres, I guess. I am not very good with distance, which is why I have to wear a pedometer.

I saddled up the dogs. I am still confused as to how it is that Molly is an eating machine and her harness is not getting tighter on her. There must be a metabolism issue going on, so I am feeling less guilty for feeding her enough for a 400 lb adult human male. We went through our yard, the yard next door where little Chase, the other beagle, lives and hit the field. Chase was not outside, or we would have gone to see her. The three of them together is a very cute sight. Watching me try to hold onto the leashes for my two without getting totally tangled up in Chase's leash that she is tied out with is not cute.

I figured beagles like to smell things, and they go slower when sniffing, so I let them track around the field (on leash, of course). Molly seemed delighted to be out in the sunshine and fresh air, smelling nasty things. Nothing makes a beagle happier than icky things to sniff (except food). We went around the field once, and I decided Molly was hanging tough, so we doubled back a bit, going slower, so they could smell some feathers and things.

Suddenly, Molly, my inveterate bottom feeder, sniffs at something while I am looking up and enjoying the day. Crap, never take your eye off that hog dog. I felt her move, and looked back at her just in time to see her gobble up some goose crap.

In the past, I have reached inside Molly's mouth to try to remove things she has scooped up. Last year she got her little lips around a very old peanut butter sandwich. I tried to get it out, but she just clamped harder and I ended up with what looked like poop all over my hands. I started to reach for her mouth today and thought, nope, not sticking my hands in goose crap. Not even for Molly. Uh uh, no way. She saw me hesitate, smiled, and swallowed. Ewww. Licked her lips, went looking for more....

I decided a mile walk was enough for dear Molly today. I made her hold her head up after that, and walk proud. She keep trying to root for more goose turds, but I wasn't giving her the opportunity. It was bad enough that Baby did her usual turd drop that I had to clean up. Based on what I saw, I would guess I am the only person in the world who has ever cleaned up after her dog on that field.

For sure, no one cleans up after those geese.

As we walked back towards Chase's house, I heard her bay a greeting to us. Just as I started to head towards her furry little squirmy body, I realized that Chase had company. A rottweiler puppy was tied out with her. I decided that Molly didn't need the stress of a new puppy to compete with, although I mightily wanted to go pet the little charmer. As I veered away, I ran into my neighbor's human company, along with his full grown rottie. Molly must have been tired, because she did not decide to treat the rottie like a rabbit. She was strangely calm, either confident or exhausted.

Even after a goose turd appetizer, she still ate double her usual amount for dinner. As I walked away, I heard her licking the empty dish. At least this time she didn't chew on the dish itself.

 

Heal thyself; or Duck

I am a very literal person. It's a personality defect I cannot seem to cure. If you are dating me and get all worked up about the toppings on the pizza, I will believe you are upset about the pizza and not something else. If you come home from work after a bad day and are crabby, that will be my fault because you are crabby at me. I have been trying to be more astute, but I think I did well just to recognize that I am too literal, OK?

My poor daughter has only talked to me once since Molly the Best Dog in the World got sick. I mean "poor" literally. She compared her outgoing with her incoming and decided she needed to shore up the incoming to cover the outgoing. She recalled the note I had left her when I went to Toronto, saying if she wanted to steam carpets I would pay.

She called today to see if the offer was still on special. I told her it is. Truth is, I have been afraid to turn the steam cleaner on. Molly gets stressed by loud machinery and I decided to put it off a while. Besides, my back hurt. And I have a bone in my leg. I kept hoping the carpets would self clean. I told child that Molly had a few accidents while her prednisone intake was still really high. Child said she would work with that. She apparently really needs to improve her incoming.

Unfortunately, child got the brunt of my current feelings. I whined that I have been in the house almost constantly for weeks to take care of Molly. I am used to an hour a day of brisk walking, and now all I get done is power reading. I didn't take it out on her, but she did get stuck listening to enough momma whining that I think lunch will be on me next time we go out. Yeah, that is probably literal too, since I dribble a lot of food lately.

The little lightbulb went on

Today was the first day of a new class for me to teach. This is not the one where I need emails sent to them for practice. This is the one that comes before emails - more basic than that. It's pretty much a mouse class, really. They learn the basic parts of the computer and the screens, and to use a mouse to click, double click, and drag. Eventually we get to more advanced things, like Paint. Paint, of course, uses the mouse, right? I once had a professional artist in my class. She humbled us all on Paint, even though she had never used it before.

I had to rush to get there early enough to get everything set up. I haven't taught a new class in a month or two so I wanted to be sure I remembered everything. I scooped up the class roster and keys for the computer room and happily found the room empty. I didn't have to shoo anyone out.

I had to reboot all the computers, get out the manuals, set up the sign in sheet, write the basics on the board so they would be sure they were in the right room. All the usual first day of class routine.

One of the things I have to do is turn on the overhead, which is set in the ceiling, and allows my computer screen to be projected onto a screen behind me so the class can see what I am doing and follow along. Since I have been told the bulbs for the overhead cost $300 each, I don't turn it on until close to class time.

Students and my two coaches started showing up early, so I turned on the overhead about 10 minutes before class time and tried to open a web site. We don't go online in this class, but I like to give some exposure anyway. Of course, I was unable to get online. I had to fix that, and it seemed we were good to go.

One woman looked familiar, so I asked her if she had been in a former class of mine. Some students take classes over, even the very beginning ones. Some senior citizens have to really work to absorb the basics, especially some who have had strokes or closed head injuries. No, she said she looked familiar to me because I have kicked her out many times. Oh yeah, one of the shoo-ees. We have open computer time some mornings, and she was sometimes using the computer right before my classes. It was good to see someone familiar.

About 5 minutes before we were to start, I heard a sound like a lightbulb exploding, and the screen on the wall went black. Mycomputer screen was still on. Uh oh. I have often wondered how it would be to try to teach a class without the overhead. I did not want to find out.

I asked my coaches if they had heard anything, and they said no. I pointed out the dark screen, and one of them went to the front desk to get assistance. I started teaching, and apologized for the screen being out. I said to myself, "self, improvise."

It's not easy. I cannot see their screens anyway, and now they couldn't see mine. We muddled along, and then the coach returned. After that, the lady from the desk came in. She asked what was wrong, and I said the overhead was out, and it had sounded like the bulb exploded. She assured me it could not be that, since the bulbs cost $400 each. OK, inflation. We continued as best as possible with the lesson.

Next the IT for the city came into the room. He asked me what happened, and I said it had sounded like the bulb exploded. He told me that was not possible, and that the bulbs cost $500 each. Wow, inflation was bad today. I pointed out that maybe it wasn't the bulb, but the power light went out and a red light was flashing up there that I never saw before. He must have thought he was taller than he actually is and found he could not reach the overhead. I jokingly suggest the garbage can, and he actually tested it for strength. Scary. He went out. Every time someone comes in or out of the room it's disruptive.

He came back in with a huge orange ladder. I giggled a bit, and told the class to ignore the nice man with the big orange ladder in the middle of the room, and we continued to muddle on. I was getting concerned, since we only have 4 sessions for this class.

He gave up and left after taking the overhead pretty much apart. He took his ladder and left. He didn't say anything, just left. We muddled deeper into the lesson without the overhead.

Next, a different man came in. He brought back the orange ladder. I told the class to ignore the second nice young man on the huge orange ladder. He laughed. He fixed the overhead while we took a break, since half the class was over.

We finally had the appropriate screen on the wall and I proceeded to be able to demonstrate the lesson as it was meant to be taught. I was worried about time, but we actually ended up with some extra time to play solitaire.

Then a strange man walked in. My coach tried to head him off, telling him that we were conducting a class. He walked out. A few minutes later, he walked back in and I told him we were conducting a class. He just stood there for a few minutes, told me he just wanted to watch, and then he left. A few minutes more, and he came back in, walked through the room and up to my desk and stood there, and asked me how he could sign up his father for a class. I told him we were conducting a class right now, but that he could go to the front desk and ask about future classes. We do get people walking in now and then, and I admit I find it a bit unnerving.

Once a man from India or Pakistan walked in right in the middle of a lesson. He was quite elderly, and just sat down next to someone. He obviously was unfamiliar with the English language. The coach was unable to unseat him. I said don't worry, someone will be right behind him. Sure enough, a woman came in the room,  apologized, and walked him out. I smiled. Alzheimer's, was my guess.

Back to today's issue. What did the second nice young man have in his hand to fix the overhead? Can you guess?

A new bulb, of course, to replace the one that had exploded. Sigh.

I know Molly is hungry because:

Things Molly has done lately to tell me that giving her three times as much food as normal is not enough:

Licked the leather furniture.

Licked Baby, which she has never done before.

Chewed on my fingers while trying to drag me into the kitchen.

Brought her dish into the living room and chewed on it.

Chewed up a candle.

Chewed on the teddy's collar.

Has not let me go into the kitchen alone for weeks.

Made me get up several times in the middle of the night to go out, and refused to go outside. Instead, she pointed me to the treats. This is not recommended on an hourly basis.

Sits at the door to go outside, then when I respond, moves to the garage door and sits very ladylike, wagging her tail. I keep milk bones in the garage.

Smiles big time in my face. She never did that before.

Licks her lips and looks at me with a pitiful look in her eyes.

Drools when I eat. Mybrother used to do that, too.

She used to be done with a meal way after Baby, but lately it has been a dead heat.

Goes back to her dish when it's empty and continues to lick it.

Dances when I get near food. Actually, it's good to see her dance again :)

On a separate note, last night she humped Baby at both ends to re-establish dominance, then they jumped around and played with some toys. This almost brought tears to my eyes. Molly hasn't shown that much energy in a few weeks unless the activity provided calories.