And Suddenly It was 2025! (How can that be?)

 4 January 2025

     2025, I didn’t see you coming! How can it be?  It seems only last week I was in high school!  There is a possibility that I’ve aged some, but it certainly does not feel like it.  Well, except somehow my hair is completely gray… and there are two adults around here that keep calling me “Mom.”  So I guess it’s true….I’M OLD!  

So where did that little girl go? What happened to her?  She’s still here - she fulfilled some of her youthful hopes and dreams, and many more more she never dreamed about! 

I’m baaaaack. Sort of, maybe.

This post was started several years ago, and here I am again!

This is ... My Year(s) Of Living Dangerously

Everyone has bucket lists; but this is not a list of what I want to do before I die, this is more a list of what I want to do while I live.  These is my year of stretching outside of my comfort zone, trying something new, not worrying about embarrassment.  I'm not going to wait until I lose ten pounds or have more time or whatever excuses I've been using recently.

In no particular order:

1. Ride a mechanical bull.
2. Run a 5K (apparently there is no such thing as a 3K, dammit)
3. Do a polar plunge one New Year’s Day (or at least in an unheated pool)
4. Go hot air ballooning 
   
   
   5. Lose 15 pounds (okay, ten)
   6.  Go back to school and get an associate’s degree before I’m too old….  Hahaha! I’m already too old!

#1 SUCCESS!!

#2 SUCCESS!! (Did the Hot Chocolate run with my friend, Sam Spenny Wilkerson.  She bullied me into it. Sort of….)

#5  SUCCESS!! (decided I didn’t want or need to lose weight)

The Sad Tale of a Would-Be Good Samaritan & Things That Are Dead

*** This is a true story. Names and places have been changed to protect the innocent ***

Wait. Change that. There were only three characters in this story: one is dead and the other barely spoke English.  I'm probably safe.

A few years ago I was on my way to work when I saw something odd ahead of me on the road. There was a little old man standing in the center of a rather busy street next to a small, blanket-covered object. There are five lanes total on Mollison Avenue - two east, two west, and a center turn lane.

As I got closer, I saw the man holding what appeared to be a cup of coffee and he just kept looking down at the blanket. And I thought, "Oh crap. Somebody's dog's been hit and no one is even stopping."  Cars were just whizzing by, and this little old man is standing there alone.  I felt bad.

I do realize that rarely do bereaved people enjoy a cup of coffee while gazing at their deceased pet, but somehow that didn't occur to me before I pulled into the center lane.  

As I got closer I noticed a large puddle of fluid on the asphalt and thought, "Ugh. It's going to be messy."  I had just noticed a funny-looking tail, and then I heard myself say, "Do you need some help?" 

"Yes," the man said, gesturing at the blanket. "Coffee." I didn't quite understand what he wanted me to do, but I did lift the blanket and this is what I saw:

*It was an actual dead raccoon.  This butter rendition is simply

 

less graphic.

     "Coffee," the man said. "He needs coffee. Then I put in car and take to vet."

     "I don't think coffee will help. But I will put it in the car for you. Let's get him out of the street first." I grabbed the raccoon's little paw and carried him to the curb.  He was stiff as a board. "I don't think he's alive, sir. I'm sorry."

     "No. Coffee, and then you take to the vet." He pours more coffee on the dead raccoon.

     "Me?  I'm not putting him in my car!"

     "Not blood on him. It's coffee. Put in your car."

     "I'm not putting a dead raccoon in my car."

Right about then I see three police cars heading our way...

 

 

 

And then much to her surprise it was 2018

So long, 2017! You were a great year, but I think it's time to move on. But before you go, I'd like to say a few things:

Thanks for keeping my family (and me) safe, healthy, and (mostly) happy.

Thank you for the acceptance and support of my fiends...as well as my friends.

Thank you for everything I wake up and take for granted every morning.

(and thank you for crazy, serendipitous surprises like this - running into Fred and Gwen in Anchorage in June.   What were the chances? and were they Fiends? or Friends?)

and I promise I won't be gone so long this time.... and I'll also work on formatting...

Thirty-Six Things (should be titled 46 things at this point in time, but it’s not)

( 

 

In honor of my charming son's 36th  birthday today  ... yesterday  ...err, earlier this month, I present "Thirty-six Things You didn't Know About Larry"  (umm, Part  1)

 

1.  He wore cowboy boots until he was three. Without socks. Because they tickled.

2.  He jumped out of a perfectly good airplane.  (Some people think of a bucket list as something to do before they die; some people consider it something to do while trying to die.)



 

 

 



 

3. He is a good man with animals.  He rescued Petunia the Rabbit and kept her for eight years.  She now rests in a place of honor in our yard.  Larry took in Lucy after his dad could no longer keep her.

4. He is a good sport.

 

Ziplining in the Beckers' backyard

 

 

5. He keeps a bucket of water on his back porch which he pours over his head every morning. I don't understand this, and neither does Lucy.

6.  He spent a semester in Sweden studying for his master's degree in political science.

7.  He has a masters degree in Political Science.

 

 8. He is a man of many talents.

 

 

 

 

 

9. On first first day of preschool with Miss Nancy at Building Blocks in Somer's Point, NJ, when he was told to go use the boys' room; he took off his boot, pee'd in his sock, then returned the sock to the teacher.  (This may or may not be related to item #1)

 



10.  He was once trapped in a locked bedroom with no way out.   Around 2 a.m. we heard a terrible crashing sound coming from the guest room (my in laws were staying in Larry's room.)  Allan ran to the room and saw that Larry had pulled out the the top hinges on the bedroom door. 

 Larry may have looked a little like this --

 

 

and gasped,  "I can't get out of the room!!!  I have to pee and there's no door handle!  I'm trapped!!"

Allan issued a few profanities along the lines of  "You dumbsh*t.  The doorknob is on the other side of the door" and proceeded to tear the rest of the door off its hinges so Larry could escape.

This is a true and factual story, although there may or may not have been some alcohol consumption involved.

 

*****to be continued*****. And I love him dearly.  5/24/2025

An in Depth Study of Nature vs Nurture: Which plays a bigger role in the development of a child's personality -- genetics or environment?

Well, I'm clearly not a scientist and this is a blog, not a thesis...

Back in my youth (which was very long ago), I had a need for a resume.  I'd only worked a couple of jobs and didn't have much to actually put on a resume; if nothing else, but I am creative.

This time period was pre-computer age, so there were no fancy computers or software to brag about on a resume.  So it was fairly common to list your typing speed and any office machines you could operate.   I put down the Bostitch M-89 100 Series and the Swingline Model 29886 as machines I had " great competency" in operating.  They are -- respectively -- a stapler and an electric pencil sharpener.

Apparently I've a smart ass a long time.  So are both of my lovely children.  Nature or nurture? Both my babies were doomed from the start.

The "C" Word

This is a very short post.  We all know that cancer is not good.  And chemo, if not worse, adds insult to injury.  Not only did I lose a breast (actually no biggie), but I lost all of my hair, all of my fingernails, and one toenail (don't ask.  I don't know why just one).  And in the last four-and-a-half years, my hair has grown back (my breast has not); my fingernails have more or less grown back (the toenail has not); and my eyelashes and eyebrows have never recovered.

So, in a fit of vanity, I decided to have my (nonexistent) eyebrows tattooed on.  I found a great place and a fabulous esthetician and had it done.  I was very nervous, but Lisa soothed my fears and told me that while my eyebrows would appear extremely dark for the first week or so, they would soon fade into a very natural look.  Through her wizardy, I think Lisa's captured the "real me" --- agreed?

Proof That Women are More Evolved than Men!

This is Alice.

She is a border collie and

she is very smart.

This is my husband.

He is a man.

He is very smart, too.

Alice loves to play outside in the water.
She gets very muddy.

Alice likes to play in water inside too.

She digs in her water dish

in the kitchen.

But one day, Alice found a fabulous source of

water in the bathroom!

And she dug and she dug and she dug!

  Water went everywhere.

This was not an Approved Alice Activity.

Later that night, the following conversation occurred:

"I found Alice digging in the toilet tonight," said husband.

"Mmm, yes, she did that earlier too."

"I told her to quit three or four times and she wouldn't.  I finally had to close the bathroom door."

"Really, Dear?"

as I turned the next page in my book.  

"I just put the lid down"

Report From a Parsienne Bathroom (Le Toilette)

Allo^ from Paris, where I sit in "le toilette" to type because it's the only place to charge my laptop.  It is a very nice bathroom, so all is good.

I joined the husband on Friday morning for a whirlwind trip after he finished some business here earlier in the week.  It was a long flight.  I was up at 4 a.m. to make it to our airport for a 6:20 flight.  Hooray  for Trish who volunteered to give me a ride.  Well, she didn't fuss and was quite cheery,  so that is practically volunteering in my book.   Besides it the most time we've had together to chat in a year or two...

Here I am in the Philadelphia Airport ready to board a 6 p.m. flight for Paris arriving 7:30 the next morning   -- this is my tired face.....

 

and here I am this morning....

I am feeling very French with my scarf and in front of the sign that tells me not to smoke in French.  Oui, oui!

We have hit as many of the museums as possible in our short time, and tomorrow we are taking the train to Normandy for some sort of tour that my hubs has heard is very good.  So today was the day to shop and experience Paris outside of the museums.... Here are some things I've learned...

·         Paris is very expensive.  I'd heard that...BUT Sephora has the same Clinique makeup for 32,90 EU that I can buy in San Diego for $21.95 (dislike)

·         They call a diet Coke "Coke Light" (like).  On the Champs de Elysses, it sells for 6,90 EU (about $8.50) (dislike)

·         Fabulous pizza.  No, really.  And crust to die for.... yummy...  (double like)

·         Fabulous breakfasts here at the hotel (food, duh, LIKE)

·         Lots of Parisians have dogs -- lots of terriers, too. Schnauzers, Jack Russells, even a Scottie!  (like)

·         internet charge of $20/day (dislike)

·         Free WiFi at the Starbucks (yes, Starbucks, Vicki) around the corner. (like)

And that's where I'm headed.  Au revoir... and signing out from the Trocadero neighborhood of Paris!

Most Happiest of Valentine's Day Wished Upon You

What do roses and dog poop have in common?  Not much...unless it's Valentine's day and you find

this in your yard. 

*sigh* someone loves me!

Ponies on Parole, Part 2

***On last week's episode, Denise and family had been notified that their three horses were loose and Animal Control had been called in to take care of them****

4:40 a.m.  We were now driving around the neighborhood following the sheriff's vague directions that the horses were just "up the street."  The husband was the only one dressed and in a semblance of order (but he's sort of like that).  I had jumped into sweatpants and my tall rubber muck boots and threw a jacket over my knee-length lime green night shirt emblazoned a cartoon weiner dog and the saying "I wanted to be around you."

Jess was lying on her stomach, with her head between the two front seats (we'd not taken the time to fold up the seats in the Expedition) barking orders.  It appeared as though we were taking orders from a disembodied head.

4:55 a.m.  Still trying to determine just exactly where "up the street" is.  Denise is becoming more hysterical.  Allan calls the sheriff dispatch for better directions.

5:05 a.m.   We spot a pile of horse poop and just beyond that an animal control officer holding a big, brown horse.  Dutchie!  As I leap out of the truck, the woman says, “Thank goodness you are here.  We couldn’t get this one to load in the trailer.  The other two are already gone.” 

What?!  

“When they come back, maybe you can help us load him.” 

Do you not see the lime green tee shirt and the bed head?  Do I look like an animal control officer?  This is my horse!

5:10 a.m.  We clear up the confusion and Dutchie is released into our custody.  I’ve got instructions to pick up the other two at the Animal Shelter and lead my one remaining horse home with a dog’s leash around his neck.

(fast forward)

2:00 p.m.  My good friend, Teri, and I are heading down to the shelter with the horse trailer to spring the jailbirds.  When we arrive, the lobby is packed.  We sign in and go looking for the horses.  Suddenly, Teri spots this:

We grab an employee walking by and tell him they are MY horses!  They're going to adopt them out in two days?  Where are they?  He says they are in the back, BUT I have to be able to ID them.  Okay, but how?  Veterinarian reports, pictures, bill of sale.  He then takes us through all the offices and into the back lot where the two miscreants are dozing in a pipe corral. 

As soon as I see them, I shout, “Oreo!  What happened?  Who opened the gate?”  Both ponies snap to attention and come to the rail.  Oreo whinnies and flips her head, then curls her lip up in the flehmen response.  The employee starts laughing and says, “Well, that’s a positive ID if I’ve ever seen one!”

Back to the lobby.  We wait.  We wait some more.  And then a little longer…until ---

4:30 p.m.

We’re the only ones left.  Teri, above, is calling home to tell them we are still here… then my name is called!  We run to the counter and after writing a rather unpleasant check to bail them out, we head for home.

Remember this picture?  Really?  No one could figure out who might have owned these horses?

Ponies on Parole

Let me ask you: Look at this photo. Does this motley group look like a common group of criminals to you?

Look again.



Does this look like a wild horse who won't be caught?
A horse who gallops wildly about the neighborhood
inciting mayhem amongst his fellow equines?

And how about this one?

Is this really the face of a common scofflaw?

A pony who deserves to be incarcerated?

And finally, the alleged juvenile delinquent.

Is this young equine truly guilty of breaking and exiting (the pasture)?

Did he really poop in the middle of the road late one night?

Well, let me tell you a story...
a story of equines gone wild.

First, take a look at my house. I live in a neighborhood. Granted, we all have at least an acre and a half, but it's still a neighborhood.
Standing in the road, if you look down the street to the left
this is what you see:

Now if you look to the south, this is what you see:

And if you look directly at the front of the house,

this is what you see:

One night not that long ago, we were awakened by a knock at the door around 4:30 in the morning. There was a deputy at the door who asked, "Do you have horses?" (in case you have a short memory, take a look at the above photos again.) He then announced that they'd been out since 1 a.m. and Animal Control had had been trying to catch them and find their owner!

(refer to above photos again if necessary)

So the husband, the daughter, and I leapt up, threw on some clothes, and took off in pursuit of Animal Control and my horses.

(to be continued...)

Ruthie and the Luckless Sisters

,

No, really, this is not a new music trio.  This is the "rest of the ladies" who've some to live with us. Joining Pointless, Aimless, Feckless, and Graceless are

Ruthless and Luckless (times 2)

Meet
Ruthless aka
"Ruthie"
She leads the flock with an iron claw...

And the

Luckless Sisters

Luckless 1 and Luckless 2

In the short time they have lived with me,

ONE was bitten by SamDammit and became quite lame,

ONE fell into the trashcan containing the chicken feed

and spent the day trapped when the lid fell down upon her 

and

ONE apparently flew over the fence and had all her tail feathers pulled out by the neighbor's dogs.

AND THERE IS ONLY  TWO OF THEM.

*SIGH*

The Curious Cases of the Slightly Chomped Chewie

Not long ago I brought home a lovely new jar of "chewies" for the canines in my life. Now, most of us know that I have a little ADD/forgetfulness/old age/whothehellknowswhatiswrongwithme; so after handing out a few of these delectable treats, I forgot to screw the lid back on the jar...and this is what I came home to:

THE SCENE OF THE CRIME;
DINING ROOM TABLE
/
\
/
\
/

THE EVIDENCE:
EXHIBIT ONE --
TREAT JAR WITH SEVERAL
SLIGHTLY CHOMPED CHEWIES STREWN ABOUT
/
\
/
\

EXHIBIT TWO:
CLOSE UP OF EXHIBIT 1

AND THE USUAL SUSPECTS:

#1 LUKE.

KNOWN JUVENILE DELINQUENT,

CHARGED WITH BREAKING AND EXITING PASTURE;

HAS RECORD WITH ANIMAL CONTROL

DEFENSE -

VEGETARIAN. HEAD WON'T FIT IN CHEWIE JAR

#2

AIMLESS, FECKLESS, POINTLESS, GRACELESS -

DEFENSE:

CLAIM TO NOT KNOW WHERE THE DINING ROOM IS.

FOUR WAY ALIBI

#3
SAMDAMMIT
KNOWN REPROBATE.
HAS DESTROYED SHOES,
CLOTHING, AND ONE COUCH.
DEFENSE:
WOULD HAVE EATEN ALL THE CHEWIES
THEN CHEWED THE CONTAINER TO SMITHEREENS.

#4

CLEO.

KNOWN RINGLEADER OF THE INFAMOUS "PYGMY GANG"

HAS PRIOR BREAKING AND ENTERING DINING ROOM

DEFENSE:

VEGETARIAN. WOULD HAVE RAIDED CUPBOARD FOR GRAHAM CRACKERS INSTEAD.

AND FINAL SUSPECT
/
\
/
\

NORMAN
aka MR. McNASTY
HEAD AND ARMS WILL FIT INSIDE CHEWIE JAR
DEFENSE: IN 14 YEARS, HAS SHOW NO INTEREST IN DETECTIVE WORK
OTHER THAN TRYING OCCASIONALLY TRYING TO FIND HIS DINNER DISH

And there we have it, Esteemed Readers. It's a mystery. What's your guess?

Happiness is a Warm Puppy

 

Jenny at the barn has a lovely little shepherd mix, Rosie, whom she has been trying to convince I need as a companion to SamDammit.  I've been thinking about because Sam is so active and both Perfect Grace and The Weiner are just too old to play with him.  And I'm getting tennis elbow from throwing a ball and all my pants are torn from Sam tugging on them to get me to play.

But I've changed my mind about Rosie.  In the last half century, I have never picked out a dog.  Ever.  Ever.  When Diane and I were little, our folks got us two Scottie puppies -- Button and Bow.  I wanted to name my puppy Tinkerbelle, but Mom wouldn't let me.  Matching dresses, matching dogs.   

We were in high school when Button died; Diane got to pick out a new puppy, Rachel.  When BowBow died, someone had given us a female Scottie they couldn't keep, so I got her - Pepper.  When Diane got married, she kept Rachel and one of Pepper's puppies, Albert.  And then for as long as I lived in AC, I didn't have a dog. 

When I moved to CA, I received Woolee, my chow, as a gift.  Woolee was practically perfect and I had him for 12 years.  Then sometime in there, Jess's dad brought home a stray dog.  After Jess’s dad and I split up, I kept Thomas and we had him for 12 or 13 years. 

                  "Woolee "                                                                                      "

In 1996 or 7, Annie came to live with us.  She literally showed up in the front yard. 

"Anna-Banana"

About a year later Allan fell in love with the dog-the-neighbor's-mother-couldn't-keep-and-was-taking-to-the-pound. Well, that was Gracie and she is 13 this month. 

"Perfect Grace"

Oh, then Jess's dad had a dog who howled and barked SO much that he got a 3-day notice to quit or be evicted. We were only going to take him for the weekend, but Ozzie turned 12 this month and he doesn't appear to be going anywhere.

"The Weiner" 

And Sam.  After Annie died in 2008, we didn’t get another dog. *sigh*  Until December of 2009, a customer at the shop brought in a gen-yoo-wine Albertson’s dog – one of those puppies being given away in front of the grocery store. And we all know how THAT’S turned out.

"SamDAMMIT"

So clearly, I've never gone out and gotten a dog.  I've never known, really, what kind dogs I've had (except Bow and WooLee), never known a birthday, and never known where the dogs came from. 

And I've always wanted a Border Collie.  So when thinking about taking Rosie-from-the-Barn, I figured if she and Sam lived, say, 12 years, I would be nearly eligible for Medicare and would be not energetic enough for a border collie puppy. 

Meet Alice:  She was born on October 7th of this year and came from a litter of puppies one of Diane's customers had.   And after a whirlwind trip to Chico to visit Dad and Diane, Alice is coming home with me.   As I write, she is snoozing under the airplane seat in front of me.  We have now known each other 36 hours and so far she has been a delight.

"Alice Anne" waiting in her carrier at the airport

Of course I have not informed Allan.  He'll be surprised, but he is used to it.  Over the years, he has come home from a number of trips to various surprises.  Once it was a new goat (we had two goats then, both agoutis, so he knew when I slipped a caramel one in).  Once he came home to a new cat.  And once he came home and I'd sold the house.

But this is the first time I've home with something like this.  Surprise!!!!

And Alice, let me tell you a little secret:  As far as lucky dogs go, baby girl, you have won the dog lottery!