Saturday, September 19, 2009

Bo's Bum

So when I was a kid, my dad used to sit in a chair & "trap" us in the bear trap with his legs. Every kid in our house was caught in the bear trap. You would swing and giggle until he let you go.

SO, I have dogs. Why shouldn't I have the same traditions I was raised with? One of my favorits is UH OH! Yah...it started with the boys. I have to remind you that Luke was adopted. We figure he was homeless most of his puppy time and when he was "fostered" he was in a house with aggressive dogs and abusive people, so roughhousing is tough for him and anytime he perceives conflict he gets nervous and leaves the room.

Now Bo was raised with us...so he is almost immune from conflict. When he was a baby I would say UH OH and then come after his chewie. Or I would say "Is that Momma's chewie" and I would head after his chewie. I was pretty tortuous. Now, when I say UH OH, Bo hunkers down with his chewie. THEN when I ask if it is Momma's chewie, he actually gets up and walks away. I actually have it on video because it makes me laugh. I can feel him sigh and say "Can you just leave me & my chewie the fuck alone". GAWD! So I still do it! Daisy jumps up when she hears UH OH because she is waiting for one of the boys to DROP their chewies. I figure she is somewhat lazy and doesn't want to work soooo hard to start a chewie. When I give them out, she waits....waits until Luke is at a weak moment and steals his.

For some reason I started the bear trap drama with Bo. But with him its "I'm going to get your bum". I trap his hindquarters in either my legs or arms. In the beginning he would struggle and try to get out of the trap. He has learned over the years. I guess he just knows from experience that I will eventually let him go. Now I have learned from experience that he waits, so now I just persevere. HEH HEH HEH. I can't explain the situation but you have to trust me that there are times when dogs are not different from people in their responses. He and I know what is going to happen. When I simply SAY the words, "I'm going to get your bum"...he starts to defend his bum from being captured. And ME? I am strategically looking to see how I can get the little bugger. It does take a bit of back and forth between he and I...and Yes I am not embarassed to say this passes between us.

So when I get him, he makes the FUNNIEST noise. His ears are down and he is not giving up. He is kind of growling but more at a high pitch level because he is PISSED off. By this time his nubby (he is tail-less) is no longer wagging and he is on the front lines with the enemy! He waits, plotting his next move. Me? I am a poor winner and keep mentioning "I've got your BUM!". Regardless of the species, you can still be mocked! That kind of pushes his GO button and he turns his head to nip me...but he can't reach. He attempts to turn over (Freshman wrestling move) and get out. The best move he has learned, has been going after me with his back feet. The noise has increased and Luke has left. I let Bo up and he turns back and barks at me and says "Fuck off". And leaves. Unfortunately I am laughing.

Now Daisy has gotten very agitated in the recent past because I think she is worried she will be tortured. Because she knows "no bite" when she wants to bite me, she licks. SO when she hears me start the Bum attack, she jumps inbetween Bo & I to save him & she puts her little body on me to prevent me from getting Bo's Bum. I gotta admire her instincts to help Bo but it is funny.

I can't say why I am so addicted to TV when the three Dukes of SLC offer so much entertainment!
Be good to you!
H

Saturday, August 8, 2009

Welcome back Heather!

SO yah....I ate The Pie pizzeria last night. But come on! I have not eaten properly for 2 months if not more. Of course I buried myself in it. Yah the now gall bladder-less body is certainly not sitting well but still I feel MORE human than I have in a while. THANK YOU PIZZA GUY!

Being out of work & NOT wanting to fall in to the afternoon television rut, I turn to the Food Network. Definitely a torture to a woman who cannot eat! But a bored woman who can't eat! Needless to say, Mike ate well for a while. I mean who CANNOT watch that & not want to make it. SO I truly baked and cooked away my boredome. Again, I didn't eat it. Mike did. Poor guy, he felt guilty that I was cooking...but he ate well!

One of the Mormon tenants is to help others. My neighbor is adament that she is a horrible person because she has not brought over dinner. I reassure her that I am up and making dinner for Mike nightly...I just can't eat. She asked 4 times over my "infirm" period! I am not eating anything other than nectarines, popsicles, and popcorn! Laugh.

I will say that I have become somewhat unnaturally attached to Tyler Florence. I am a marries woman, but he is a handsome man AND he cooks! Come on...I mean a truly sexy man is wayy sexier if he can cook AND cook well! I am definitely not on the way to stalking him or DVR'ing all of his shows....but as I recouperated, he was a balm to my upset tummy!

Unfortunately now that I am better, the crush has waned. I am sorry Tyler~!

Tuesday, June 16, 2009

The dog things I love...

I am cresting into a surgery which has only one bit of worry. It is a simple surgery which is apparently an Olympic event in this state....gall bladder. Seriously, my counselor asked me if it ran in my family I snorted derisively and said, "It runs in the state". I don't think there are many people in my realm of friends which have not either had someone in their live who had the surgery or themselves. Unfortunately I was left with the image of my friend who said when they pulled hers out, the stones CASCADED out of the bladder. I have this perverted vision of a roast like item with superballs bounding out of it.

The only fear I have (other than Mike's cooking) is the doglets. Recently my main symptom has become more pronounced and frequent...dry heaving/nausea. I was laying on the bed with the dogs surrounding me and Mike on the end of the bed...having an "episode". Daisy jumped up looked at me & went to Mike. Her little face showed anxiety....MIKE, Da Momma is sick! Mike looked at her & pet her saying "Da Momma is fine". Daisy looked at me then back at Mike...I told her I was fine. She went back to laying with me...dubious that she should not act to help me. The boys never moved from their napping positions. Daisy is like the volunteer fire department...always prepared. The other day she was notifying us that Mike was outside WITHOUT her....I asked "Daisy...Daisy...what's the matter. Is Mike stuck in the well?". I think she told me to fuck off.

Apparently for Bo & Daisy, my belly is their safe place. As a pup, I would hold Bo's chewie for him. I mostly did it because when I wanted to sleep, I would hold it for him until he slept. Because he would be sleepy, he would lay on my tummy & I would hold the chewie for him. As much as that was cute....30 pounds of dog on a newly surgeried gut could cause...um...yah...pain. Daisy seems to LAY across my middle almost like a shawl. Yet another potential for pain.

Luke sleeps on his own on whomever's pillow is empty. But he is also our talker. When we come home, he is so excited that he barks and barks. For some reason after he settled in with us, I started the idea of "momma love" with him. The other two would bound past Luke to say HI. Luke just waited. When it was his turn, I would ask him if he wanted momma love. I figured it is his time without the needy two, to say hi to me. He puts his front paws on my belly and I rub his ears and talk to him....and he tells me about his day. I ask if the mail man came...did the neighbor kid walk across our lawn...normal dog stuff. Luke sits in the window of the guest room on the bed watching....a canine Mr Rogers. But again, I have started a habit which will soon become painful.

To prepare for this I have started (yes, am aware of the delay in their training) "Down". To no avail. As I don't feel good lately, the three of them are truly a relief. It is just pure love and reassurance. Kind of like a personal fan club for Da Momma. Not a bad thing I feel...just will be a bit more adjustment in the next month.

Be great to you!
H

THings which HAVE to stop

Ok...this has been festering for a while...but today it will just come out.

Let's discuss the idea of merging into traffic. Did it stand out the word "into"? An on ramp does not mean that traffic finds a place to YOU. I had a argument/discussion with someone years ago who believed the intent of merging was oncoming traffic was to make room for those joining traffic. Today I was driving and a fairly new, champagne colored, Luxury edition Camary was in the lane which was merging. So I waited and waited and waited for HIM (sorry, an older HIM) to make an effort (ANY effort) to move into existing traffic. NOPE. None. I flip him off and honk (with some discipline after the recent supreme court ruling). He gave me the finger wag in the mirror that I WAS WRONG! Let's get this straight people....If you merge (or if I were to merge) it is your responsiblity to SIGNAL (do some want to write this down?) and then adjust YOUR speed to move into traffic. He continued to remonstrate me & I finally just made the crazy sign and wanted to rear end him. I really want to be agist and sexist but I can't.

BECAUSE women in minivans are HORRIBLE! I realize this is a prejudice (don't get me started on Chinese women in San Francisco and Costco) but being in the HOME of huge families where minivans are more prolific than Bishops....I feel educated enough to warn that there are some women who are the worst drivers in the world are the ones with 6 kids in the minivan trying to merge AND hand out snacks and juice boxes. I only have 3 dogs and when they are in the car, I am dodging butts, tongues and managing Daisy's temper....so I understand distractions...but seriously...I could be texting and smacking Daisy and still be a safer driver.

Shawn has prejudice against Subaru wagons. I don't really get it. I mean living in Seattle I was an OUTCAST by not driving a Subaru wagon. They are just part of the landscape there...so if there was a genuine issue, I would be an expert. But driving with her, I could see where the bias came from. Again, it just MAY be Utah Subaru Wagon drivers, but when she was in my car....experience proved her point.

Mike has a small issue with the brakes. I don't know how to explain it but he drives like hell then brakes seconds before impact. To be fair, he drives an 86 Toyota pick up (Eleanor...I pray for her health nightly!) and its capacity for speed (while HE drives her) is limited. SO when he gets in to our Rav, he is like a kid behind the wheel. I am thankful I no longer have the Celica because he scared the HELL out of me when we were on the freeway. There was a time in our recent trip to Napa Valley where he tore across the road in search of homemade olive oil and I screamed in terror. His mildly irritated face came with the "What?" comment. I also worry as Mike has a fondness for the Italian Job and Transformers....my car can do NEITHER...I think I need to be more clear with perimeters!

But I was cut off in a gas station by a smiling ass of a guy who knew what he was doing (again, a guy?) and didn't care. I figure if you are going to be an asshole on the road, embrace it and have no apologies. I live that philosophy when I am the asshole, but come on....I see through your rudeness. I confess I had to get out of a 7 11 and not spill my super big gulp and attempt to eat my chicken taquitos and had to just sit in traffic. An older woman just stared at me with incredulity. I just shrugged and mouthed an apology as I slurped.

What? At least I apologized!
Be great to you
h

Sunday, May 3, 2009

Great movie quotes

For years I had my two greatest movie quotes from 16 Candles. I mean, isn't that movie just full of the right things to say?

"Thanks for getting my undies back!". "No more twankie my wankie the Donger needs FOOD!". "Um...yah...right (Joan Cusack)". "You breaka my face....you grabbed my dick". Serious, other than Ferris Buehler, I can really just quote that movie without an hesitation...but I suppose that is my age.

In college I had GUY friends who would (sober) recreate scenes together from Ghostbusters. These guys had not grown up together...as a matter of fact, this was the first time they had met was the year we lived in the same dorm. I was baffled at that "gift".

Over 20 years later, I was travelling with two men who had worked together but weren't the best of friends....but they would quote Nacho Libre FREQUENTLY. They would say a few words and then LAUGHHHH. I think we would laugh at their presentation and bad accent vs recollecting the scene from the movie. Again, it was a guy thing.

But when we were younger, quoting Monty Python became an olympic event. For the longest time when my brother drank, he would say "bring me a bucket"....and I would laugh. Honestly I don't think I had seen the Meaning of Life until years later in college. He had explained the scene with the barfing man that I had just grown accustomed to the image of a little cleaning woman scurrying around with the barf bucket. Another one of his quotes was about the "killer rabbit". That one I am SURE I didn't get for years until I saw Search for the Holy Grail.

I can't tell you why I waited so long to see the Monty Python movies. Even now I still chuckle at the idea of a "favorite color"...."blue no yellow....AHHHHHHH". I think one time I had "partaken" before seeing a movie....but that didn't improve the comprehension. For fear of sounding plebian, I didn't find as much joy with the BBC shows as I did the movies. I mean, yes, you have to laugh at the Spam song. Yes, the Dead Parrot skit is still classic. But sometimes it was too much funny in 3 minutes. But I am afflicted with the habit of giggling randomly at the thought of how much a sparrow weighs.

That brings me today. Recovering from a cold, I was surfing and saw a Samuel Jackson movie labelled "campy". The movie had intelligent and vengeful sharks (hmmmm...no creepy music but still somewhat familiar of an idea). Then it hit me....with a bit of sadness...that I had a true favorite quote from a movie. Now I realize that I could be somewhat off in my quotation, but I think that I figure that it still encompasses what my friend Sam still needs to convey...."I am Mother Fucking tired of these Mother Fucking snakes on this Mother Fucking plane.". Seriously...that totally beats "You played it for her Sam, you can play it for me". Truly & succinctly conveys Mr Jackson's frustrations as much as "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn!". All of the quotes are classic and certainly memorable....but really...as I walked around the house today....Mr Jackson's complaint about the serpents seemed to just FEEL GREAT!

So, to update those who care....I have updated my favorite movie quote! Sorry Mr Hughes....but I am sure you can understand the visceral happiness this will offer me. But Ferris is still good!

Be great to you!
H

Thursday, April 23, 2009

This is not a Dog Book

The Christmas after we got Bo, (before Luke) my mom's friend gave me the book (now a new motion picture) Marley & Me. I distinctly remember laying in bed laughing at the new puppy parts. Looking at my beautiful little 6 month old tinkling darling, I could do nothing but giggle. After the auspicious beginning of me thinking God was punishing me for being a bad person due to his bee sting, I figure the fun was still to come!

As I laughed, it hit me...ALL DOG BOOKS END WITH DEAD DOGS! Yup....I am sure just right now a book or two went through your head. I looked at my snoring baby and realized that any ideas of capturing his quaintness went away because ALL DOG BOOKS END WITH DEAD DOGS, so I was not going to do that.

So I am not.

I have three pretty lively dogs (who are now running from living room to guest room barking to let Mike know they want to be outside with him) who as of now have given us a pretty full book of stories, anectdotes and warnings. That is what I am doing...collecting, documenting and celebrating the dogs...the VERY MUCH ALIVE DOGS!

I am not in denial. I have put my childhood dog of 17 years to sleep....I have held our dying/dead cat while we rushed to see what help could be offered. I know it will happen. I noticed as of late I cannot look at animal carcasses on the road as I just see a little black body with a heart on his white chest, a black/greyish with a feathery tail or a little white body with a black spotted underbody. The day will come. Both Bo & Daisy have genetic issues with I am sure will shorten their lives. Luke has anxiety which I figure as it is with me, working against a longish lifespan! I am ready. Mike...not so much. He looked at a rarely peaceful Daisy one night as she napped...."I will not handle it well if she dies"....and got a bit weepy at the pre-thought.

As Mike & I walked the neighborhood tonight, there is a an older retriever dog who sits on his (not sure) porch and barks. I am not sure whether he is barking at us OR our loud dogs 3 houses down who were vehemently protesting being left at home. Either way, he made is way off of the porch down toward us only half heartedly barking. You could tell he was old & you could tell he was in pain. So I walked into the yard to meet him half way....and he sat & offered his head...which I duely appreciated. Then he waddled back up to the porch to await another emergency for him to check his yard. We were allowed to pass. For a few minutes we walked without talking....at least in my head I envisioned Bo being that infirm. Only probably barking more!

This collection is a celebration of who they are & the characters they have become in the drama of our lives! Remember, this is NOT A DOG BOOK!

Who trains whom?

So I sit in bed reading JEN LASSITER...and Daisy brings me toys to throw. I was looking into Mike's bathroom & noticing Mike's full glass shower doors. My mind lit up. I wonder if Daisy would figure out how to open the sliding doors to get to the toy. From bed I started throw the toy towards the doors. I started laughing at my thwarted efforts. I think I knocked over Mike's shampoo, conditioner, and face scrub....but still kept trying.

The next night I explained to Mike what my intention was. He was intrigued. He put the toy in the shower & closed the door. He couldn't leave. He sat down & tried to EXPLAIN to her that it was "just like opening the curtains", curved his hand like a paw to show her how to pull open the door, which he did. She sat & looked at the door and his hand. And waited....

Now I am impatient. I was attempting to control Mike so he would leave Daisy to use whatever doggie logic she had to figure out what was going on. After 7 years of marriage, he had since stopped listening. So he continued with his training.

"It's easy Daisy"...."just use your paw"...so he showed her AGAIN & opened the door a bit more. So she sat....and looked at the slowly widening gap then the man who was in charge of widening that gap. From when where I was, all I could laugh (and scream) at was who was truly training WHOM?

For the 10 minutes which passed....the boys and I watched. I surmise that Daisy watched too...and waited. It was a great training session. There were moments of encouragement..."Come on Daisy, it is easy, you can do it". There were moments of success Daisy said "Good job Mike...you can open it again! Good Mike". There was a rhthym about it. He would open the door a bit, she would look at the door, look at him, look back at the door then look at him. He would wait (seemed to be the same increment) and then he would encourage her, watch her and then open the door a bit.

Finally HE gave in. She seemed impressed with his progress...jumped in, grabbed the toy and dropped it again at his feet. I was livid and laughing "I wish now I could give you a fucking dog treat because SHE just trained YOU to open the shower doors".

God bless them every one.

Be good to you
H

Monday, March 23, 2009

I got new conditioner!

OK so I am struggling as of late. Same stuff everyone else is struggling with, but I have just had 9 days off of work to sit in my jammies overwatching TLC! Well, and NCIS...God bless Mark Harmon! Just as an FYI, if you text, CHACHA is a great place to text to find answers to wierd things such as "How many TV shows has Mark Harmon starred in?". In the address field type in 242242 and then send your question. Throughout the Vegas trip I used it. I find it reassuring to have someone asnwer my unanswerable questions. BTW, Janet Jackson was in 4 tv shows, YOU ask CHA CHA!

Anyway so I left the house yesterday, Mike needed birthday cards! I did put an athletic bra on under my semi dirty shirt! I felt pretty proud! Sadly one of the big reasons I went to the store was to take the dogs for a ride. That is the high point of their day! The other day I went to the bagel place & left the dogs in the car with the groceries. HUGE mistake. Daisy has actually pawed open a bag of de icer for the garbage. So after I placed my order, I ran to the door of the store & beeped the lock. IMMEDIATELY all three heads popped up looking for Da Momma. I went back to the curious clerks waited a bit then ran back to the door & beeped the lock, again three heads popped up looking for Da Momma. I only had to do that three times to keep the dogs away from the food. Luke tends to drool when I am gone too long...because he was adopted, I think he has abandonment issued. Daisy is SURE that there is something SOMEWHERE she can eat, I give her little opportunity to find success. Bo tends to DIG at things and pull out anything in the main console and the side door bins. One time I think Daisy figured out how to open the upper glove box...sigh. So I worry as to what I do when I am in the store.

Walking around the store I was ovwerwhelmed by the fact that I have to budget now....sigh. Totally bumming me out. I had my Rain Man list. You know the list that is in your head that you actually recite as you walk around...."No, I don't need pasta....oh Mike asked me to get carrot juice....gotta get something for Mike's birthday dinner." That ongoing list you mumble throughout the store, my sister said I sound like Rain Man when I go through the store talking through my list. I didn't need a whole lot but I was heading out when I remembered I needed conditioner! I almost skipped to the aisle.

Why the joy? As a broke single person, I would head to Target and shop for what little I could afford...and finding a new shampoo or conditioner was great! Finding a new smell, a new texture...just SOMETHING I could enjoy was totally fun! I remember in college we would dress UP to go to the Eugene Oregon verson of WalMart 20 years ago. We would pile into any car we could and go through the aisle looking for whatever we could under our $10 (or sometimes less) budget! It was an event...we had fun. So I continue it! I must say that Herbal Essence is NOT the wierd hippie shampoo it was when I was a kid....so I am happy with Drama Clean! Great smell....I was happy!

Yes, new conditioner made me happy! Though I did tell the clerk that it had been the first time in days I had been out of the house...she, for some reason, was envious! Laugh...Driving home with my excited pets, I did have to re-think my attitude to be envious of that as well. New conditioner, dog kisses, and envious clerks????? What else does one person need for joy!

Be great to you!
H

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Wonder

Last night I did something that I have done a few times since I was a child. The fascination and wonder at what happened still captures me.

I put sunflower seeds on wet paper towels and covered them with clear wrap to watch them germinate. I did it in college to some daisy seeds. It is an amazing process that I never want to be bored of. I showed my husband and he had little recollection of doing the same thing as a child. I was shocked. Didn't every child have the science project of watching seeds grow? So I put them on his windowsill so we can watch it together. I am excited!

Years ago a book came out which until recently I still had a copy of on my desk...Everything I Needed to Know I Learned in Kindergarten. Robert Fulghum. I was and still am struck by the book. I have a few of his subsequent books. I enjoy reading them still! I have met him. I don't need to say that his ideas struck me, because it is deeper than that. His books are filled with vignettes of real life told from many perspectives. Told for the purpose to share yet take us back to the wonder of being HERE and HERE NOW. I never stop thinking of the wonder life can offer us. It is my hope that the seeds can reconnect me with that wonder.

I am good at that. Seeing something in the mundane which makes me just stop. So I share it. One of the people I enjoy sharing with is a friend at work. Whether he is feigning interest or not, he seems to enjoy hearing what I have to say. I remember once taking my dogs into be groomed. On the counter was an aquarium. Fish, plants, rocks. I always marvelled at the efficiency and containment of those little environments. THEN I SAW THEM....frogs. Dashing from one side of the aquarium to another. I was mesmerized. I asked tons of questions. Mostly wanting to know where to get them. It was near Christmas so I figured Santa could bring me frogs! I was excited. They darted, they climbed, they soared through the water. How amazing to have a little bit of nature THERE on the counter of my groomer. Wow. I went to work & shared the frog story. He stopped what he was doing & looked at me. I paused for that OH CRAP moment....where you figure you are now sounding like an idiot and you should stop. He told me that it was a breath of fresh air to hear me find something amazing in what is around me, to see something fascinating in the every day. I blinked...I do? Yup, and don't ever stop. I had never realized that I did that. What a great trait.

I will say some of my greatest moments of humor have come from that sense of observation. Seeing what people do without thinking and see the funny aspects of it, wow, what an open invitation to laugh...both at others and ourselves. Like the guy who was sooo pissed that I cut him off on the freeway that he OPENED HIS DOOR to flip me off. That one almost made me STOP in wonderment. I could not believe that me cutting him off elicited such anger, frustration and basic hostility that he would risk his life to give me the bird. I still remember being on the phone and being speechless. I couldn't explain it then and I really don't think I covered it now...it really was amazing to see. And I created that reaction! What power.

Back to Robert Fulghum. His second book just solidified my affection for the way life should be viewed...It Was on Fire When I Layed Down. No lie. That is another book I bought just to find out where the title came from. I have read the story countless times and I still can't see how it happened. Typing this I remember having his books at my bedside to read a short story a night. There are some which will make me laugh so hard, my eyes squish shut so I can't read until I stop laughing. There are some which make me cry....even now I have a tingly nose thinking of them. There are some which you really don't see/feel the impact until much later. And there are some stories which just make you say "hmmm". I love the fact that his stories are everyday posts from life. Stories that make you wanna jump up with your hand raised and share a similar story. "OOOHHHH, pick me". I guess being up this early in the morning typing this is a reminder that I need to pick up the books and keep them at my bedside again.

The seeds haven't done anything in 6 hours that I can see. But you and I both know there is amazing little God stuff happening right now...on the wet paper towels....and I will be able to wonder at that little God stuff in the weeks to come....wow, how friggin awesome is THAT?

Be great to you!
H

Saturday, March 21, 2009

Daisy bit me....

Yes she did. But.....that wouldn't be the end of the story would it?

One entertaining think about pets and children is the torture factor. My sister showed me one day about putting scotch tape on a cat's ears...THAT was an amsuing 15 minutes. The dog we grew up with wasn't torturable. Serious. She had more attitude than I could ever claim!

Now we have 3 to torture. As of late, I have been engaged in a power struggle with my "oldest" Bo. If he leaves himself open, I get his bum in a head lock (yes that would make it a bum lock but I figured you wouldn't get it without the WWF reference). It is not often that I get him as he is fighting to save his bum. He twists out & turns to me in triumph (I swear) when he gets away. When I do get him in the hold, he struggles to get out & you can hear the frustration in his growl & bark. I pat his bum taunting my superior position. This enrages him. Eventually he gets out & turns & barks a "fuck off" as he jumps off of the bed. This is something Bo & I do. He knows it, he avoids me, I attempt to get him...it is something we do. I tried it with Daisy. Not good.

Daisy suffers from "little dog syndrom". She barks at the garbage trucks, busses and other assundry big noises. From my perspective I get it. She is so tiny and powerless against those HUGE things which she can't protect herself from. So I got her in a bum lock, patted her bum and she turned and bit my wrist. The boys just stared. Daisy ran off of the bed. Ran straight to Mike's office. She would not leave Mike's side.

I laughed at this. "NO BITE Daisy". All of my dogs know No Bite. Luke most especially as when we first got him from being a homeless fostered dog, he bit me and I did the No Bite thing. He bit me again. So I bit him. He just stared. The next time he bit me I bit him so he yelped a bit. He has never bit again. For the record, the only times I have been bitten were due to my own aggression and overstepping their limits. Daisy was just interesting to see what she did. Bo takes it in stride when he bites me...moreso leaving it to ME to figure out what I did to deserve it. Daisy still struggles...again I figure it is her only defense.

SO, she is hiding in Mike's office. I am on the bed and both boys are avoiding eye contact and strangely still. Mike is saying "Daisy go in there and apologize to her". I can hear her in his office....not moving. Me, I say "No Daisy, bad dog". Mike chastises me.

I hear her move into the hallway (hard wood floors before you ask how I know where she is) and I say again "No Daisy, bad dog". I heard her go back into Mike's office. I hear Mike attempt to console her. I just reiterate "No Daisy, bad dog". She won't move from Mike's room.

It truly went on for 30 minutes. I was intrigued as to the behaviors with the dogs. I realize they are dogs but sometimes the embarassment, shame, anger, affection, and pride is so similar to how we react that I am eager to see how things play out. Mike lectures me not to make them feel shame...but it is interesting how things look. When we first got the boys, I was introduced to shame. Bo had a "physical reaction" to something the boys were doing. I, never having owned a boy dog, was not sure if he had sustained an injury. SOOOO, I held him down with a damp paper towel to see if blood was on his peepee. Yah....no blood. Bo would NOT make eye contact...I could interpret his body language "MOMMMMMMM....gosh". Not long after that Mike said I had to stay downstairs...I asked why, and Mike informed me that Bo wa having a "physical reaction" and would not cross the hallway until I left. Yup....he had a doggy erection and was embarassed to have his momma see it.

Luke has a different kind of "je ne sais quois" way of looking at it. One day I caught the boys on our bed. I yelled and seperated them. I looked at Luke and said "You know the rules...not in Momma's bed and not near Daisy". Luke barked in response. I answered "I know it feels good, but there are rules". He looked at Bo then looked at me and barked. I countered "I know he likes it too but I don't want to see it and I don't want it on my bed and I don't want Daisy to see it". He ended his part of the argument with a few barks and trotted off. Mike observed all of this. "Um....how do you know what he is saying?". Obviously I didn't...but I explained that Luke is my talker and it seemed logical that he state his case to continue what he liked. So I went with it....and he still argues with me at times.

Now, Daisy and I were at a stalemate. I called her and she didn't leave Mike. For some reason she gets anxious when I say "Belly belly" (I think it goes back to the fear she has of getting a pink belly like Bo does). But she didn't come. The next thing I know I hear her come in to the bedroom (both boys looked up, I swear) and she paused before she jumped on the bed and went to her normal spot. She licked me and settled in. So, she knew what she did but didn't know how to get past it. God bless her she just faced the demon and just told me she loved me and things are fine by her.

Yes, they are dogs. I realize I am giving them human characteristics. I don't due this out of loneliness or missing children of my own...but as you have something under your care, you start noticing their actions and reactions just as they notice ours. And more often than not, I think we make both of us laugh.

Be great to you!
H

Friday, March 20, 2009

Vegas

I am home from Las Vegas with my lovely husband...and Mark Harmon & NCIS. Sigh.

So let me give a bit of background. We don't drink...well not alcohol. We don't gamble...well unless the feelings hit me & I will go more on that. We eat. Mike is a foodie. I mean past the Food Network stuff. There were channels on the HD spectrum that carried pretty intense food shows. And Mike watched them. And then stalked the chefs. Well, followed them through the internet to find out about their restaurants. We (me sometimes under duress....don't let me rant about the "acclaimed" sushi restaurant in PH after which and $150, I went to a buffet.) go to some of these much researched restaurants when we are in various cities. Being HERE in the somewhat foodie barren area of Utah, he is a frustrated foodie with limited glimpses of greatness in Vegas. We made the decision to go to Vegas in January....since then we have had multiple reservations at multiple places. As of late, Michael is struggling with his lack of robust family history in Coppola/Scorese ridden areas. His compensation is to eat...and he did.

When I move in between restaurants, I have watched many people. There is a gentleman who stands out. Now I am over 40 and pudgy so pretty much invisible to the younger set. We were in the casino heading out when I saw a young man with his friend and they were talking about what they were going to drink or hit on. All of a sudden he reaches down...I thought (hoped) he was reaching in his pockets...nope....boy was diggin. Pretty deep into his JUNK. Not sure that I could use that word appropriately until now...but he was digging deep in his junk. And I watched. He continued to converse, though I hesitate to call it multi tasking. I was within 18 inches to 2 feet away from him while he did this and all I could think of was he had NO regard for whomever was watching. That is the full scope of Vegas....doesn't matter what you do or to whom you do it or to what level you do it or how often you do it and finally who is watching...it is Vegas. Whether it is my age or moral level, sad.

Our first reservation was at Bouchon. I will go on record as saying I do not care for French food. Serious. No need for organ meats and sauces. Their bread and cheeses and pastries yes...but food...nope. So Bouchon is a French restaurant. It was a wifely duty. 10 floors up in the Venetian and a "plain old French Bistro". Mike was proudly wearing his authentic Mario Batalie bright orange Crocs as we asked to be seated. Our waiter was an amazingly engaging man who called Utah "Mormonia", and I fell in love immediately. Of course being a former Hag, he and I had alot in common! I ordered a salad which I spoke often about. Mike got French Onion soup. Thankfully no organ meats included. My husband was in heaven. The waiter suggested to Mike that if he was a TRUE foodie, he would NOT get the steak frites (steak & fries) as that was attainable everywhere, but he should have the DUCK. I of course somewhat goaded Mike into having it as well. I watched the two women next to us who were less fun and certainly less ambitious. They watched us pretty intently. Regardless of not liking French food, my baked chicken was amazing! I actually ate peas too! The meal ended with a dessert which I cannot describe. Mini brownies with homemade ice cream on them. But that does not encompass the joy. Then onto the old fart show which was the other part of my wifely duty (Jersey Boys) which is a musical about the life & music of Frankie Vali...yup THAT old. I did the dirty thing & trained my opera glasses on the boy who's face struck me. He and the brownies made the night great! OH...by the way....Mike ate the duck..."I would never order it again, but it was good to try"...you take what you want from that.

The next morning was the Carnegie Deli. Yes, like the one in New York. Before we went, Mike crawled into bed, hugged me & said "I was just on the Carnegie Deli websit looking at the pastrami". To which I responded "Honey, that is not foreplay!". So we walked and went. Where we met 2 other couples who were very interesting to talk to. Mike ordered borscht (yup, beet soup) because he wants another family history so that day it was Jewish. He also ordered the Reuben with corned beef. I can't describe the bomoeth proportions of the sandwich. The two couples we met marvelled at its size. I ordered a burger. Pretty unremarkable. Mike walked out of the deli without the leftovers shaking his head..."We have been here....no need to go again!". Check it off the list.

Dinner was one that I was looking forward to. There is a small Italian restaurant in Brooklyn. It is rumored to have catered to some of the mob. The owner enjoyed a few bit parts on The Sopranos. Last visit to Vegas when we were in the pregame warm up, I had noticed that Raos was opening in Vegas in Bon Appetit. We were lucky to have reservations opening week. We met all 3 owners (and got autographs) and I was flirted at by Frank, the very glamourous, distinguished, and charming owner. Never will forget that meal! I will honestly say I believe that Mike threw up all vestiges of the disappointing reuben to prepare for Raos. To me, what we ordered was GREAT tasting but of no consequence until the DESSERT. Ahhhh. I did have to struggle in not touching myself in public. Sigh.

Ending our food trip was up to me! Done with fancy schmancy food, I told Mike we were going to PF Changs. YUP. Something I could get in downtown SLC! Not caring. Just wanting lots of food that was familiar. So I got it. What we also got was dinner with the most engaging couple from Sonoma valley (Coppola connection) who loved Powell's and had just returned from Spring Training! No one else need to have applied as dinner companions of the Davidsons! Was the best dinner I had all week!

I will say, we ended our trip at a bar to see a concert. Now I am not a bar person per se. Not sure that I ever was. So I have little patience with bar people. But we did meet a great couple from Edmonton Canada & discussed the propensity of amazing celtic music coming from Nova Scotia. During the conversation, the guy mentioned that only in the US has he seen so many fake boobs here. I laughed. His girlfriend & I spent the evening in between songs, evaluating all of the women....real or fake.

I did lose patience and only ALMOST started a tussel. Laughingly my husband warned me that he didn't want to start any fights that night. My friends and I laughed at his chivalry. Hell yes....I may be old & pudgy but I will tell you I am still able to hold my own and can still give a stink eye which could stop words.

Be great to you!

Saturday, March 7, 2009

My STUFF

I talked about my desk both as a kid and now. My desks are my comfort zone. They are set up for me and to me. But it is MY STUFF.

Being married, I have always rebelled at MY STUFF all of a sudden becoming OUR STUFF. I am not talking about kitchen stuff, living room furniture, or tv's...I AM TALKING ABOUT MY SPONGE BOB SQUARE PANTS MOUSE PAD. Sorry I yelled. But leave my stuff alone.

I have found that my husband's tendency to procure things has become less than cute as time has progressed. When we married, I had a collection of Disney sweatshirts. Those were soon OURS. Not so much an issue until I found one of them in the trash "I don't wear it anymore". BULL SHIT....not yours to throw away! But he flashed his blue eyes & he FEELS he gets away with it.

SO my mom is dying...I am living in Oregon for 3 months to help. Husband is visiting from Utah. My dad is...well, dad. If I look at him now, I would say OCD and ADD. Every day he had a pattern in caring for my mom. He would get up, get her coffee started (set up from the previous night) and get her pills and water. Awwwww...you say. I guesso. But he was just a fanatic about it. 2 scoops of coffee, 6 cups of water. So, the husband leaves....that night the dad is FREAKING. "Where is the God Damned scoop?". When I say freaking, I do mean that. Drawers being slammed, cupboards being opened & closed, dishwasher checked...all with a vengance of someone under duress. I find another scoop & tell him how it will work. The new scoop would require him to use 3 scoops for 6 cups...his aged face looks at me "But where is the scoop?". I walk away and call the husband....yah he took it. He wanted something to remember Faye by....a fucking coffee scoop? My dad is going nuts and you took the ONE thing holding his sanity together as a keepsake? Yes, he says. I confess to the dad what has happened..."but the scoop? Ok Heather....."....shaking his sad little head. Inside I say...yah dad, the scoop.

So, same dying mother....different visit...probably earlier. I see he has a school picture of me when I was 15. I have hated the picture not for any other reason than it is in a really cheap green frame & I am wearing red...DOES NOT MATCH. And I can't figure out of all the kids and all of the school picture, why does my mom put THIS ONE out on her dresser. So the husband has it. INCREDULOUS I ask where he got it...your mom. WHAT? She is DYING...and you are taking her shit? I asked her if I could have it...she said yes...I like it. GOOD GOD MAN...youa re stealing from a dying woman. She gave it to me...it was simple to him.

Recently I have moved my stuff into the main part of the basement. I would LOVE to say there is a great reason other than I want to be on the computer AND watch tv. Sad, but I am currently addicted to NCIS...I picture myself as Abby, sadly I think our only commonality is Super Big Gulps. In this set up is my craft table. Had it for years. Other than a small stint as my dining room table, always has been my desk or craft table. My recently unemployed husband ANNOUNCES to me that he is using my "bench" for his tools! OH HELL YOU DIDN'T...that is my stuff. Yah...my craft table in MY area covered with (honestly) MY tools that he rarely uses. He had one day to remove them....as he did amiably.

The reason for this rant, vent, bitch or story, is the mouse pad. The other day I came home and smelled coffee in my bathroom and the counter was marked with it. Didn't figure it out until tonight. In the husband's office is MY Sponge Bob Square Pants mouse pad....OH NO YOU DIDN'T. Being on the phone with my sister I yell..."That is my God Damned mouse pad you put it back". His beseeching little face no longer works for me "But I spilled coffee on mine, you have another one"....not working, I cleaned up the spilled coffee. "This is the one I like, go get the shitty one AND LEAVE MY STUFF ALONE". My sister on the other end of the phone said "Why is he touching your stuff?". Exactly.

Imagine my counselor hearing this story. Histrionic, overreacting, and outside of normal communication boundaries. Nah...the husband lives in the land of OURS when it suits him. His stuff is nothing I want...OOOHHHH...am thinking right now I will take his autographed ball from some washed up aging baseball player AND put it on MY desk. LAUGH...he will freak. LAUGH. Talk about the land of OURS.

When you read about people born under the sign of Cancer, their things, home and day to day life are very important to them. We are nestlers. We view things which surround us as a comfort...a necessity for our balance. SCREW THAT...DON'T TOUCH MY STUFF...especially MY SPONGE BOB SQUARE PANTS MOUSE PAD....you have been warned.

Be great to you!
H

Integrity

There has been a backlash in support of integrity both at work lately and in the world. The word "accountable" has been so overused as of late that I am dubious that anyone knows what it is, how to do it and if they are themselves being held to the standard they are prosthelizing to.

It has offered me the chance to take a step back and evaluate my own disproportionate sense of right and responsibility. My mom told me a while ago that they didn't feel the need to discipline me as any punishment they would have assigned was nothing compared to the guilt, regret and remonstrations I would afflict on myself (though most assuredly my mom didn't use remonstrations!). She said I was over responsible as a child. I would ask before I crossed the street, call when I got there then called when I was leaving. Yah...I figure I was pretty bad in past lives.

On the day Nixon was pardoned by Ford (that just makes me laugh to type that, not due to the political maelstrom it represented, but just shows how damn old I am) I remember being in the principal's office for cheating (the irony is not lost on me...probably why I remembered it as of late). It was so traumatic to me that I cannot recall what I did, nor do I recall what the punishment was. I remember us sitting there watching the "event" on a global tv and in my little head was the catastrophic doom of what I had done. So, I wrote my mom a note. She saved so much over the years that I can't fathom why she didn't save THIS one. I know we were bussed but in my memory I was running home in that After School Special-type run with my book bag trailing me and the note in my hand. First struggle with this memory is that I have always been pudgy, and I am sure I didn't run even then. I throw open the door, tears streaking down my sweaty, dirty cheeks(cuz that is what they do in After School Specials) and ran to my mom. I remember her asking me what was wrong and I, in between sobs, gave her the note, apologized and ran out the door. Yup...still an overreactor.

Honestly I can't recall what I did or what my mom said. I can't recall a punishment. Nor do I recall what the school did. All I remember is I cheated and was caught. And I still torture myself...nah not really but it is there as a lasting memory.

In contrast, I was taking computer class in college (1985 to give you perspective on the computer class I was taking....I remember being baffled by a word processor a few geeky friends had me try...lol). I was living away for this year in the dorm...co-ed dorm (is pertinent to the story). We had to write a flow chart thing of sorts for an atm. The idea of the exercise was to learn actually how many steps had to be realized in programming. We had to turn in the paper to the professor to the box on his office door.

This was agonizing for me. Like I said, 1985. There were truly 3 computers in our smallish dorm. In the geek room. So up I trudged to see the boys. I remember Pete (who is now in the CIA) trying to help me, but I am sure doing it moreso at his level thus creating an explosion in my head. I remember toiling over several drafts to figure out this thing I couldn't get. Whether Ros told me or I just did it, I gave up & turned in the pathetic attempt figuring I would fail this but learn. So we walked through campus I turned it in, and I stewed.

4 of us were called after class to the professors office. I figured I really must have fucked things up. Yah....we were under review for expulsion for plagerism. I am laughing typing this now. All of those hours where I didn't know what I was doing...and it was on all 4 papers EXACTLY the same. I swear...as I did then to the professor...that the work was mine. He showed us all 4 papers and they were exactly the same, again I protested my innocence. He was dubious, naturally. I was catatonic. So he told us to prove it.

Looking back now, it must have truly been a difficult assignment as if these poor other people (who I didn't know) saw my ever so valiant efforts struggling confidently in the box as a salvation. Sad. I laugh at that. It was drama to me. Thrown out of school for plagerism? But it was my work! I went through the trash in my room and I went through the main trash in the dorm. I remember it taking a while but I am sure not as long as it is playing in my head now. But I found my pre works. I went to the professor's office (I am sure again with the distance to his office covered in the After School Special run) with I am sure a tear streaked (cuz even in college they do that) face with my proof in my hand. I would love to have remembered his face when I handed him the (YES) pizza stained proof that I had not only fucked up the project once BUT had rough drafts of previous fucked up attempts! Guaranteed in his head he was laughing. But he asured me I was exonerated.

I remember on the way home talking to whomever felt like being the angel of support who followed, being incredulous..."I was so wrong, why would ANYONE copy that shit?". To this day I am still baffled at someone else's sad insecurities that when they saw my paper, they changed it thinking it was GREAT! Laugh.

Integrity to me has become in tandem with rules. Codes of conduct, rights & responsibilities, and judges vs what it truly is....an internal gauge of what you will and won't do at your core. I struggle when my integrity is challenged....especially when it comes to caring for people. But I think it is something which starts young and is either built or destroyed by subsequent years and experiences. I hope that we get back to that. Currently to me...accountability is pointing to see who else can either go down with you or for you.

Be great to you!
H

Sunday, March 1, 2009

A gauge on your life...

Saturday morning I headed to work. I have a friend/co-worker who starts work at 5.45am...foul foul foul. I sent her a text asking what she wanted from The Sev (7-11). I knew what I was going to get....but I digress.

I recall when my sister thought it was funny that the 7-11 doors have locks on them. Now I remember a few things...FIRST...I was alive when the silly store was almost a luxury AND opened at 7am and closed at 11pm...so there really was a need for locks on the doors. I remember BEGGING my mom to get us Slurpees! Back then, you had two flavors and none of them had funky colors. I remember wanting to go into a 7-11 to get candy. OH GOD....the candy. There really were penny candies on the bottom row. Now I go in and I cannot find a Peanut Butter Twix unless I go to a specific Sev and I can only get it in the LARGE ASS pack. So 7-11 has a big history with me.

As kids, my brother and I were having a contest. I was partnered with his girlfriend and he and his friend were partnered. The first duo who drank the MOST Big Gulps won! Can't tell you the prize, but none the less it was a distinct motivator. Very motivating. I remember having probably 4 a day. We stacked up the spoils of our days in the window in our shared room. At that time, Big Gulps were $.69 (look there isn't even a cent sign on the keyboard...man that sucks!). During this competition...they re-introduced the SUPER Big Gulp. Seriously, people weren't rritating their tendonitis with the small coolers of soda they carry now! So when they re-introduced this new drink size, they put them down at the Big Gulp price of $.69! Yup...so what did we do? Had to correct each of the bewildered clerks and reinforce that YES we really wanted the smaller cup. By the end of the summer, I think the clerks on the corner of Garden Home road and Olsen road, stopped asking. Probably for the best.

I can't recall which group won, but I know that we had those stacked, faded and beat up cups in our window for a long time. As I entered more into my 20's, I figured WHY 7-11 was so busy at night....those burritos with the freakish green things in them....and at 3 in the morning, they were oddly appealing. Forget Area 51, 7-11 after bars closed is way more intriguing. As I became one to part take of those habits, it became clear. One night, haven partooken, I remember laughing for a long time about the burritos.

This Saturday, I laughed at that memory as I asked for "two Monterey Jack chicken taquitos" and along with my Super Big Gulp of Mt Dew has become a regular morning attraction. This Saturday I had received a response from my friend "Oh gosh, are you still there?" I reassured her I had not arrived and was most certainly prepared to take her order....Super BG of Diet Coke and Oreos. ICK....I asked her about the milk alternative to Diet Coke, but she was adament.

I went to the clerk with a few extras (PB Twix and Starbursts) and stopped before the counter...Dear GOD, I was going to need a bag...how embarassing! I mean really...how lame is your life when you NEED a bag when you leave the Sev? Pretty low. The shame meter rushed to the top and as I paid for my items I said in my defense "Yah...never call your co-workers and tell them you are at 7-11", with an awkward laugh, I boob-held my two Super BG's and my bag of stuff and waddled to the car.

I will attest that the taquitos have odd little red things in it but being more sober and coherent, I feel way less desperate when I eat them in the mornings. But I do check to see if they still carry those scary burritos that the stoners eat in the mornings....yup...still there!

Be great to you!
H

Sunday, February 22, 2009

I am sorry I am ugly....

The other day I updated my status on Facebook with "Heather is.....having mean thoughts". It caused quite a furry of comments....all concerned for my wellbeing. Thank you for those thoughts. I appreciate them. Truly. Unfortunately (or fortunately) the bad thoughts were directed elsewhere!

Mike and I were at pizza...cuz I have given up cooking on the weekdays....and we were next to a group of youngish women. Being together for nearly 8 years, I have given up on scintillating conversation over very tasty pizza. This night I was forgoing conversation to be listening to the conversation happening at the next table.

Like I said, a group of youngish women enjoying their time together. I guestimated they worked together. I scrutinized the ring fingers and it was about half and half. With their backs toward us were two of the married ladies. I didn't really get to see their faces. The third with her back to us was a blonde of larger statue. I was sharing this story the other day and I wanted to reference when Anna Nicole Smith was at her zenith, but I think the end of her life/career kind of overshadowed that. But she was not petite but she had an air of class about her. The reason I point out her size was that she was the only one who wasn't under a size 10 and wasn't overly dressed. She was in black and her beautiful blonde hair was pulled to one side. I watched the chef and our waiter look over at her. I knew it was her they were watching because she got up to use the restroom I imagine and their eyes and conversation followed them.

The women facing us were definitely under 25 and dressed for an evening. The woman in the middle was a black woman who was very animated. Without any hint of racism, I notice black people. Utah is predominantly white...that is no secret. But after going to dinner with a friend of mine and his white wife, he let me know that it really is an isolating feeling being black in Utah and they do tend to support each other....but they are alone in some respect. I was struck by her eyes and her enthusiasm. The two women who flanked her were unremarkable per se. But they were all of the cute stature.

I say this with the bitterness of the ostrasized fat chick when I was in any school! I am aware I have not moved past this youthful debilitation. I know it is dumb. But there are times when it smacks you and you slam back 20 years! I never fit in during High School but I am not sur emany of us felt we did. Even the popular people could quote times when they feel they were struggling with those around them......nah...calling bullshit on THAT one.

So I am listening to these women talk about their office and the workings. Moreso I was trying to figure out what they were doing. I mean it was Thursday night. The blak woman seemed to be leading the group. She was talking about the cool new club and the other women were agreeing and sharing what they knew....she was talking about something which occurred today and the other women chimed in. It was just a lively conversation.

Then it happened. I have told this story so frequently that I really am trying to stay true to the moment. The woman looked around the group and kind of stretched out her hands encompassing all and said "I am soooo glad no one here is ugly". Swear...that is what she said. Immediately I thought "OOOOH, not all of you escaped that". Hmmm...truly I cannot guarantee what stopped me from gasping out loud at her audacity. Now me being me, I figured it was a funny moment & she looked for a laugh...nope. There was quiet. Silent agreement I perceived.

I looked at Mike who was blissfully ignorant enjoying his mozzerella and tomato salad. I looked back at the women. The disgraced 15 year old stood up inside me....somewhat Mad. "I am sorry I am so ugly, Mike". I want to interject here. Mike told me that I would extend his delayed response for dramatic impat to 10 minutes. But truly he looked at me...looked around...and was quiet...for about 2 minutes. Then he said fairly matter of factly "You are the most beautiful woman in the world". I rolled my eyes. But the 15 year old glowed! Of course I am!

I went to work and told this story to the youngish man who is truly still looking for women like the ones I saw. I told him the story. He too, rolled his eyes when I said I was ugly. But I said that HONESTLY the reason why he paid $135 (yup) for a pair of jeans was to indeed ensnare women such as those I observed. It quietened him somewhat because most probably I was right.

As our evening came to pass, and we were leaving, Mike held my arm as we were leaving telling me not to mind them. The 15 year old was totally wanting to say something intelligently and slyly degrading which they surely wouldn't get for years! I could do it! It would be redemption.

Then I grabbed the arm of my beautiful husband who was still glowing, not from the attention of his beautiful wife, but the amazing pizza....and we left! "I don't know why you focus on people like that. They really don't enjoy life. Let them go on!".

Laugh...like I have said recently, I don't know what to do when Mike is Normal, but I can certainly adapt! Enjoy your beautiful 15 year old!

Be great to you!
H

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Cereal

OK....so I went to the store feeling uninhibited. Not naked and be loud uninhibited, but "buy whatever you want Heather" uninhibited. To complete any ugly mental images, there is no way I could lack enough inhibition to be naked in public...loud most assuredly...but not naked.

For some reason, when I am feeling uninhibited in a store, the first place I go is the cereal aisle. I figure now that my mom has been gone for 5 years, I can now freely say what a poor food parent she was. That is totally not true but I figured I would sound like an embittered child because we were forced to eat sugarless cereal and powered milk!

Yes powered milk. I can imagine that NO ONE reading this has consumed powered milk with some regularity. Let me revisit the process of recreating milk from powder. Get yourself a 2 gallon container and get yourself 2 cups (no more no less) of powder. Now to offer a bit of complaint here...due to being a Navy wife on an extremely limited income, my mom didn't get "top of the line" milk powder...instead it was generic powered milk. As a note, Carnation (top of the LINE example of powered milk) did and still does carry powdered milk.

I offer up a tedious explanation regarding the quality of said powder because my mother's constant explanation to generic items was almost a mantra "You can't tell the difference". Right. The story of the generic peanut butter with the arabic writing on the label from the discount story is for another day.

The first few glasses of the putcher of milk were watered down and the last one (depending on who made it) was extra thick. I qualify on the "who made it" because my brother had a different perspective regarding the necessity for careful preparation of powdered milk. Here is the way Heather took her time to create the milk....cold water...a little on the bottom first then adding a partial amount of the powder and more water....stir VIGOROUSLY....then add more water and the remaining powder. Done. Rick's way: dump in powder....put in water...put in fridge...stirring only to guarantee anyone watching has seen would say he had stirred it. Certainly a more disingenuous way to create a beverage for the whole family to consume. I will say with decided certainty that the times where you would pour the milk and receive a resounding plop of unreconstituted powder. Yah...I will never forget that sound and the icky feeling I would get.

Unsugared cereal. Cheerios and Rice Krispies...that is what we would get. If we were lucky we would get Sugar Smacks...I think. I can't recall what my behaviors were when I would eat cereal, but I can recall my brother showing me the syrup of sugar a a result from him sugaring his sugarless cereal. It was almost a victorious smile on his face when he would show me. God love him.

When my sister was older, we got Golden Grahams and Honey Nut Cherrios (hunny nunny as Shawn couldn't pronounce it properly as a toddler). I felt gypped. SHE got Hunny Nunny Cherrios and we got generic rice crisp cereal.

I went away to college for a year when I was 20. Being away from home was tough for me. I am a momma's girl. I recall walking into the cafeteria one of the first days feeling very much pathetic and without hope for being away. Then I saw it. I swear it twinkled in the morning light. It stood about 6 feet tall and had a small almost inconsequential sign....on that sign read "Captain Crunch" in somewhat careless hand. At that moment, I felt it was going to be all right...all ok. ENDLESS BOWLS OF CAPTAIN CRUNCH....could you IMAGINE. With REAL milk? Dear God was there a LIMIT on how many years one could attend and bask in these luxuries? It was all good.

Walking through the store as a free uninhibited adult, I looked at the Family Size of Captain Crunch WITH crunch berries. OH YAH BAYBEEE....I put one in my cart. I was satiated. I am currently without any Captain Crunch with or without berries...so I am a bit on a edge. I have yet to feel the necessity to replace my box yet. Part of the delay is guilt from childhood that I don't need it. Coupled with the fact that Michael is eating healthy as of late and the guilt has increased as I get organic fiber cereal so my grasp to Captain Crunch has stuttered.

As I move on, I must pose a question to all....What is a Crunch Berry? When I was a kid there was a red crunchberry. Now there are 4 colors...wow. I am overstimulated by the array. The same level of magnificitude has also occurred with Lucky Charms....oh gosh...there are so many! Kids today are SOOO lucky. If there is any doubt just walk down the cereal aisle.

Be great to you
H

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Daisy's Story

As I type now, Daisy is walking on my desk top investigating the new layout. I know she is looking for the helicopter I use to torture her. Why do I allow her on my desk...can't say. It certainly isn't convenient. I think it goes back to one of my sister's cats we had when I was in my last 3 months of college. She would sit on my desk during the late hours and watch me write (no computer over 15 years ago) and type. She was a Siamese mix so I don't want to say we connected because Siamese cats need NO human. But it made my nights easier. As with Tori then, Daisy just wants to be where stuff is happening!

Right now she is standing in front of the keyboard so I really can't see what I am typing. She is smelling the chocolate on my fingers which skews my typing. And looking DOWN at Bo who cannot be on Momma's desk. She is Daisy and this is just what Daisy does.

We went to dinner tonight and struck up a conversation with the young fireman and his girlfriend sitting next to us. They could see Daisy's picture on the front and stated "You have a Jack Russel?". My immediate response was then as it is most times "Do you want her?". That always elicits a laugh. Why do I want to offer up my youngest to strangers??? She is a JRT (Jack Russel Terrier for those NOT in the doggie know). She is smart, she is active, but she really has to be the center of IT.

Here is Daisy's story. 3 Christmases ago Mike was at his zenith of puppy mode (almost as bad as baby mode). "You got to pick out your two dogs, I want a dog". True, the boys were then as they as now...mine. They operate in a pod. They lay down when we do....they chew their own chewies...and they don't argue to be put to bed...my perfect boys. So, Mike went through the breeds he wanted....West Highland Terrier, an Irish Wolfhound, and a JRT. I put the deal on the table before he left work....Dallas Cowboy tickets or a Jack. His call. He left slammed with the giddiness and responsibility of a choice....a tough choice.

He had rules in choosing the new puppy. I wanted my Daisy Duke...so it had to be a girl, she had to be white (my boys are black) and there was a budget. I was still at work when I got the call and email. He had found her. 90 miles north....could we go tonight??? His excitement was infectuous. I got the cash from the ATM and we left. I felt as close as I ever have been to making a drug deal. I had a wad of 20's and in the dark of night I was going to a singlewide trailer (no lie) to get something.

I called my mother in law on the way & told her we were expecting....she said "I hope to God you are getting another dog and are not pregnant". Aren't mothers in law grand??? My sister was going to our house after she was done with work to see the new addition & help with the introductions to the boys.

There was some concern in my head when I saw the mom jump. I mean straight up nearly 4 feet. In my head I quickly reviewed the back yard...oh what had we done. She was tiny, white with a perfect little brown ear, and she went to Mike immediately. It truly was his dog from then on. The woman asked us questions about where the newly crowned Daisy would be living. I patted my belly and said "No one in the Davidson home starves". She watched Mike hold the then princess, and got a bit weepy. We left with Mike promising to send pictures. We started the 90 minute drive home.

I still have the first picture I took in the car of Mike holding the barely 2 pound Daisy. Black outlines each eye so they looked huge on her little face. I call her my Goth dog as her "lips" are outlined in black as well. All you could see was eyes and the brown ear but Mike was happy.

Now as I look at the troublesome little shit now, I understand how she got that way remembering the house she came in to. Mike didn't want to put her down into the maelstrom of black. I have a picture of me cradling her letting the boys smell her and her them. I can imagine in her little head a red WTF warning flashed and triggered the FIGHT mechanism....forgetting the flight, just the fight! She never turned back.

There are videos of her trying to come down the stairs and being PISSED I wouldn't help her. I am sure it just exacerbated her frustrations to have me laughing at her. She would run after the boys as they chased balls always too small, bitching as loud as she could at me when they wouldn't allow her to play.

At this point the boys were in the guest room all day. As I did with Bo, I kept Daisy in my bathroom. I figure any mess she would make on the tile floor would be easily cleaned. She HATED not being with the boys. I could hear in her head "I AM NOT THE BABY!". That first winter we would lose track of her. Any one who has trained a puppy knows that an unseen puppy is a pooping and peeing puppy. What we learned about Jacks is that they are colder than most dogs. She could easily be located laying as pathetically as the Matchstick Girl on a heat vent.

As she grew, her fiestiness continued. She would NOT be bossed by the boys. Bo was here first but SHE was here now. Regardless of these just being dogs, there is a pack hierarchy needed to be established. When it was just the boys, it seemed to be a non issue....with Daisy it was on the agenda...DAILY.

Now at 3 she is what she is...an opinionated, nervous, and attention seeking pushy broad....OH MY...who's dog is she???? Let me tell you. Mike leaves for work at 5. He gets up and lets the dogs out. When they come in, Bo goes under the blankets for warmth....Luke lays on Mike's pillow....Daisy lollygags as Mike showers waiting to follow him as he dresses. She waits in the kitchen as he gets ready to leave then stands at the front window and watches him leave. THEN she comes to bed. Mike has his dog.

Strange little habit Mike's dog has. When we fight, yah like you don't, Daisy reprimands Mike when he yells. All 12 pounds of her gets right up in it and barks "Leave my Momma alone!". I will say that at times it truly has stopped the fight as we are both laughing at her insistence. Mike is perplexed. But I reiterate that I am the alpha dog...I am the feeder, the caregiver and the enforcer...so she protects me. She is his dog but reports to me in the pack. I LOVE THIS. Mike still says he is the alpha dog....YES YOU ARE HONEY...ask Daisy!

Be great to you!
H

I am UP!

For some reason my head is full of wonderful ideas. I now have an outlet, and I appreciate all who may or may not be interested but will read.

This week I moved my "office" around. I have always moved furniture. Frustrated creativity I suppose. But I love the energizing feeling of things looking totally different. I remember as a kid I shared a room with my brother for a while. So you had two of us, our beds and whatever effluvia comes with that. With me at one time it was a 7 foot long desk top mounted on 4 foot high steel legs. I can't say where I acquired it from, but I painted it blue. I nestled in to my desk and area. I am a Cancer and our STUFF creates our comfort. I can still picture what my desk and environs looked like. I can say that with over 20 years having passed because my then teenaged brother sketched it. I would like to say (he doesn't read this so I can) that he doesn't work with his creative talents in an obvious way, he instead is logical, methodical and works with his hands.

I have kept his sketch all of these years (though its current whereabouts are not known) to review my habits. Let me elaborate. When I was 15 I found GQ! Now back then, it was somewhat more butch. In an effort to enjoy the male form, I got a subscription. Seriously for 3 years I got GQ. What did I do with the magazine??? I bought HUNDREDS of map tacks (yah, look it up) and hung up the pictures on my wall. For those who saw 16 Candles, the cute boy, JAKE, hung on my wall for nearly a year before the movie...Michael Schoeffling. Not a stalker, but an appreciator. I remember sitting in the movie asking my friend if she had seen the actor before...no. I went home pondering, this niggling familiarity bothering me. A few days later I looked up from my desk & THERE WAS JAKE! Quite magnificently covering more than one space on my wall....I know how Molly felt in the move...sigh.

Other than the boys, I had a teddy bear, my drawing and caligraphy pens, and then my calligraphy. "The Moral Majority is Neither"...."Would you mind very much if you took your silly ass problems down the hall?"..."Feminism does little to equate as much as it does to emasculate."...are a few I recall. I felt LIBERATED as a youth to take profanity and make it beautiful with my calligraphy. Whatever my parents felt about me using THOSE WORDS I think my mom was just relieved I was creating! I had an acrylic picture square I had purloined from my dad. The pictures were held in with a foam insert. What my brother's sketch doesn't show is that the foam square is hollowed out & it was an nifty little storage space for stash...I felt so cool!

I haven't changed with my nestling. Under my computer screen is a shimmering little mound of Kooshes. LOVE THEM...can't find them any more but LOVE THEM! I must have them. I remember living WITHOUT a television in my first apartment in downtown Portland sitting in the dark and juggling the glow in the dark kooshes. Yes I was sober! I have my little sayings not done in my calligraphed hand but nonetheless in their specific places to motivate. My little Ikea light which I love. My pens, less so for drawing now but for bill paying. One little wonder to appear this time was my 3 inch tall wooden bowling pin trophy from the 72-73 "season" where my average was 69. I went to the state championship that year! My mom didn't have the heart to tell me later that I was included so they could have a handicap bowler to manage the score. I barely remember going, I do remember the shirt. Really did have velvet printing...Heather on my barely burgeoning breastlet. I felt cool.

A few new things on my desk are for doggie torture. A mini remote controlled helicopter which I fire up every so often to make Daisy think Satan is here. I also have a Cadbury Bunny which clucks. Luke runs from it...Daisy & Bo are incensed by it! LOVE IT! This desk is different than my childhood desk. I don't sit at it & dream of what I will be...instead I sit and deal with what I have and how to get through until tomorrow. The creativity and passion has dissapated for organization and bill paying. The desk wasn't painted blue, instead I made sure there were places to store receipts, passwords and grown up effluvia. My drawing pens are there and in a cute container sadly more of a decoration than a necessity as they were over 20 years ago. There is a pece of art my friend Julie made me hanging over my desk which makes me smile.

My husband has a space where he nestles. We found a beautiful big oak desk for nearly little cost (because of it we can never move, huge) and his recently added 46 inch tv (THAT story is for another time). I will be critical of his space. In this beautiful desk there is NO PEN & PAPER. Dear GOD man....what craziness is THIS. "I can store it on my computer"...which he does. He has a MAC. Dear God that is wierd. But on his "pads" (they can't be pads without PAPER) and "note" areas (again no paper) he keeps passwords and such. On the rare occasions where I do sit at his desk, I rave internally for a GOD DAMNED PEN & PAPER. None. Drives me nuts...but to him he is nestled. He has a Japanese quote....whichever hat he is wearing waiting on the corner...and his mini LSU football helmet. I query now if there is a picture of us on his desk but the hypocracy of there not being one of us on mine glares.

My desk at work is also my nestling place. I have pictures, cards and stuffed animals to keep me grounded OUT of the workplace while I am there. I have 4 pictures of my husband there. they are a beacon as to whether I like Mike or not. If they are face down, I am avoiding. If they are in the drawer....he had better be hiding. When he worked at the same place it was more entertaining now. I have a teddy bear there that Mike gave me when he was sucking up which holds up the collection of dog pictures. One of each, it isn't a scrapbooked collage (sorry to sound snide, just not me). I look at the surrounding desk of my employees and peers. What their desks say about them.

I look at my desk at here & pause to run my hand over my koosh. They remind me to find the 16 year old with the 7 foot desk she knew lead her to other places in her head where the little Slyvia Plath kid could be happy!

Be great to you!
H

Monday, January 26, 2009

I am not sure how to feel.....

Ok...so I have been making chocolate chip cookies since I was 15. I remember when & why I started to make them. My mom & dad played cards on Saturday night with friends. My dad & his friends made the mistake one day of flattering me on my cookies. HUGE mistake. So each time they played cards at our house, I made the bloody things. It shortly became a hobby.

In my little head I had a goal. There was a cookie shoppe (of course) in the Galleria of downtown Portland which had amazing cookies I thought. Me being still of adequate self esteem, figured I could make them. I think that 6 years ago, I achieved the same taste. Yes, I have been making these cookies for 28 years. I can imagine that there are derisive snorts out there regarding such a hobby. I can honestly say that my popularity was increased by these cookies.

I remember my mom finding a recipe for me which had coriander in it. I remember this because mom told me she remembered a cousin's sons names because it was "Cory, and errrrr". Did I mention I love my mom? Moving forward. I tried an amazing amount of recipes. I remember one time in my early 20's when the sales paper which then came in the mail had a section on chocolate chip cookie recipes, and a bunch of us went through them to decide which ones would be THE ONE. Secretly, I knew the coriander recipe would be well short of the ONE but it truly was great to hear the enthusiasm.

My grandmother was an amazing baker. Not really a sweet person, but knew it all. I suppose that everyone at my age or older had a grandmother like that. No wonder where I got it, but Gran was ascerbic, pushy and ALWAYS right. One day she told a friend of hers "John, my granddaughter is a bitch!" I looked at the ever so diplomatic John and without a second thought I said "John, genetics suck!". I will say I am the chocolate chip cookie guru of my sphere of influence. So, my grandmother gave me tips leading me to the successes I am enjoying today. 1) leave your eggs out to be room temperature 2) never beat the eggs more than they need to be combined or you beat them down 3) butter will make the recipe more cake like where margarine will make it more flat (I may have miffed this but it still sticks with me...no pun).

When I lived in Seattle (but worked in Bellevue) I began to make the cookies for people. Mostly for birthdays and such. I wrapped them in 2's in saran wrap then put them in a zip lock baggie. I remember a that time I offered nuts or no nuts. I was adament that I would not use walnuts....too bitter, I would command...only PECANS for my cookies. They became almost urban legend how good they are. People started demanding them. Serious..."Hey, why did you give Lisa cookies and I didn't get any??" I was truly amazed at the brazen audacity of some. Especially those I didn't like. Am laughing. Rules were formed about the cookies 1) You never ASK for the cookies 2) You don't TELL people you have them 3) I can always come & take one. I was making 6-7 batches a month, rules were a necessity. A friend once said that they are good because I make them with love. In my more bucholic of times, I agree. Logically I say it is the full page recipe and directions I have labored over which does the trick.

My mom didn't care for them. My sister does now, but I think that has come with time. Funny thing is who does or doesn't like them. A dysfunctional relationship I was in (yah like you weren'y ever) he hated them. Was wierd...so I never slept with him. LAUGH....sorry....I can feel my sister's anger right there...it wasn't happening regardless of the cookies. Oh...that was funny. My dad ate them regardless of the recipe I think to be a good dad.

Here are the pecularities of the recipe. It started out as the Guittard chocolate recipe. I, in my obsessive climb to greatness, augmented it:
If I really think about it, I use 1 cube of margarine and 1 unsalted butter...at room temperature (if I am running late & microwave the butter, cookies taste like shit).
DARK brown sugar...I really feel like it has a richer taste.
Room temperature eggs.....you didn't argue with Gran about this stuff. I STIR them in to the creamed sugar mix ONLY UNTIL COMBINED...Gran is right!
Imported vanilla....don't even mention imitation to me.
3 3/4 HEAPING c of flour. I don't want to talk about what a pain in the ass it is to find a 3/4 measuring cup. They don't exist. Right Shawn??
Shake of salt
3 c chocolate chip MIX...yes mix! I take 1 bag of semi sweet chips, 1 bag of milk chocolate chips, 1 bag of mini chips & 1 bag of dark chocolate chips. For some DAMNED reason, they don't sell mini chips in many places in Utah. 2 stores carry them consistently. I mix all of those together and then 3 cups.
Cook them on aerated pans. I got a set for Christmas from mom 20 years ago and I have swiftly berated previous roommates or current spouse for putting the $4.00 pizza on my $20 pans. 2 years ago, I found another 2 in a sale bin WITH a spatula for $10, I felt like that woman in the IKEA commercial......START THE CAR. They work. Look em up.
I only cook them until the tips are brown.
Take them immediately off the pan and put them on a brown paper bag. Don't ask...nearly 30 years...again you suck I rule!

A friend and I had a bake off one time. We both went around the call center with our cookies. He used FLAVORED chips....white chocolate mix....amateur. Was hilarious. NO ONE had the guts to choose. "If I was just having one I would eat his, if I had a jug of milk and in front of the tv...yours". Chickenshits everyone!

So, why am I not sure how to feel? I made some today and I offered them to a rep. He looked at me and said "Are you adopting?" I was worried he meant dogs as I am kinda in puppy mode. I asked for what? He said "You know a family...me, wife & kid" I didn't get it. "You have the gramma thing DOWN". I felt the world looking at him like he said the Venus de Milo was ugly...and everyone knew he was right. It truly did get silent....God was waiting.

I thanked him. In my head I realized this was an awesome Gramma thing to have down. I figured wow....this isn't all that bad. But I told him "Sure, but I don't like kids". Again, Gran was never wrong!

Be great to you!
H

Sunday, January 18, 2009

One small thought...

Well, as small of a thought that I can give.

Why does an Ambulance have the word Ambulance on the front of it spelled backwards? OK OK...I see all the hands raised...I know you know...as do I.

It was done like that so that when you are driving you will be able to identify what vehicle is behind you. So lets look at that. You are driving down the road....and you hear this ROAR...not of noise but I am sure 8 cyl & a HUGE engine coming up on you. Forget they have a siren that was made to shake you up even OVER my cd of MY Perogative at volume 40, but there are friggin LIGHTS.

So I ask again....why does an Ambulance have the word Ambulance on the front of it spelled backwards. I may be over symplifying it...but I don't really give a shit what it is. At 15 (of whenever permits are given out now, one of the first rules you learn is regardless where you are or what direction they are coming, you pull safely to the side of the road when you see ANY Emergency Vehicle. EMT, Fire Truck, Police Car, Ben & Jerry delivery truck (sorry, my own Emergency vehicle)...you friggin move. You don't wait until you can read the damn word, you just pull over.

I can imagine the conversation which would occur when the officer tickets you for NOT pulling over for an Ambulance..."Well, I thought it was an Ambulance, but wasn't sure. I was WAITING to read the sign to see whether it was an Ambulance, THEN I would have pulled over". Right! I guess the lights, the speed AND the siren take AWAY my need to see the bloody (no pun intended) words over the grill of the vehicle.

Then don't get me started for those dumb asses who DON'T move. I watched at one point a Fire Engine trying to make a turn from the far right hand lane because the people in the left lane wouldn't move. I pointedly watched the driver's face. I was impressed not to see him mouthing vulgarities! Just get out of the damn way regardless of the vehicle.

Nuff said.
Be good to you.

Don't ask ME what BCS stands for!

I grew up with sports kinda foisted upon me. All weekend was spent with any kind of sports. The thrill of vistory and the agony of defeat all without a remote control

I struggled with it growing up. I tried to find a favorite team (Redskins....why NOT Thiesman...dude even now he is an appreciating view of a man). Of course I was born (in my adult eyes now, in the shadow of the Oakland Alamedia colasuim, so I did feel accepted by my dad being a Raiders fan. It was one of the few pasttimes we enjoyed together. My mom & I steered away from full fledged immersion. Mom read all Sunday. My mom played up her lack of interest....her team was the Rams because she liked the helmets. LAUGH....god bless her.

So I say this note to point out that when I was growing up through before my marriage I was not an atheletic supporter (of course I had to!). The love of my life is a sports enthusiast. I think that is understating it, but I move on. He gets about 10 minutes at a time during a game from me. I will watch the Fox sports show because Howie is on it as well as Terry (he does have a cute butt!). We watch that. I have actually started reading the Sporting News before Mike does.

When we vacation, I try to research which MLB parks we can go to and "tag up". Mike, Shawn and I are still in competition with eachother on who has been to the most MLB parks. I think I have one more than Mike (Camden Yards...7th row, 3rd base line during the LAST season for Cal Jr. brief prayer). When we met Shawn in Chicago, we had tickets to see the Cubs (Wrigley friggin field...the IVY!) and the Sox before we had hotel reservations. Cubs I was in awe of the pure American history in the building. God forbid the nostalgia that is found in a Chicago Dawg. Though without the history and nostalgia, I could only stand like 5 innings in the White Sox stadium.

This brief note because I received a comment about the Sugar bowl & other college "championship" games. I hadn't the ability at the time to refute that. Let me state for those in the know, that I live in Utah about 5 miles from the stadium where the (undefeated) University of Utah Utes play. I do have support for the team. I also attended the University of Oregon (PAC 10) so I follow their games. Stating that, I feel again those in the know are nodding with why I didn't respond to the College bowl game comment. After the bruhaha died down (the game AND the commentary was replayed here a week after the Utes won), I felt anger (as I did when the Ducks were denied 4 years ago). I still am laughingly supporting Mark Shurtleff who is attacking the BCS's monoply over college football in the courts (Go with god Mr Shurtleff!).

So, how do I feel about college bowl games? Like everyone else who bleeds for a team in the Mountain West, PAC 10 and other disenfranchised NON South areas.....it is lame and not a competition. It is voted on by sports casters and there is no set play off. If you have ever been to a college sport game, it is the TRUE passion of the sport. And instead of WORKING for a title, the opportunity to play for a facade of a championship is VOTED to you.

That is why this illiterate non-sports fan will NOT support the bowl games. Watching the Utes dominate their game and come out 4th in one poll (note even rated in the Sporting News poll, which I told Mike to cancel his subscription for their assinity). I guess my thought is any entity which cannot with consistency and surity NAME their champion, is sad.

Be good to you!