Malcolm’s Mayhem, life with a Bull Terrier

    

     It’s time to re-blog this:

     A friend once asked me, “Why in the world would anyone have a Bull Terrier?”  This she’d inquired while observing me take evasive action to protect myself from doggy damage.  Her face showed she could tell this was a common occurrence and that she found it a tad unnerving. 

     My Bull Terrier, Malcolm, took another shot at disaster before I answered.  He held a large bone, poised in his mouth like a baseball bat, and barely missed taking out my shin.  I unconsciously stepped out-of-the-way of sixty-five pounds of armed, muscled freight train on a ‘bully run’.

     “Hey, Bull Terriers may be a bit bizarre, but we’re kindred spirits.”

     She emphatically nodded in agreement.  “Yes, you’re two of a kind.”

     “Besides, life would be dull without Malcolm’s antics and wit,” I added.

     She shook her head.  “I couldn’t do it.”

     I could tell she thought it was only a matter of time before the men in the white coats came to take me away, and that she was glad to be standing outside of my fenced yard. 

     I felt it was important to show her that Malcolm wasn’t so bad, so I called him  to me.  Of course, he decided at that moment to go selectively deaf.  About the third call, he raced over and sat at my side looking angelic. 

     Malcolm is obedience trained, and I began to put him through his paces off lead.

     “Heel.”  He did a perfect job.  “Stand.”  Again, he was flawless.  I even added some of his tricks to the demonstration. 

     “Now, give me your paw,” I told him.

     He sat and held his paw up for me to shake.

     “Bang.”  He dropped to the ground, rolled over on his back, and played dead.  “Sit.  Stay.”  He jumped to his feet, then sat and remained motionless.

     My friend watched with great interest and surprise, exclaiming, “But only a minute ago he was crazy.” 

     I told her, “no, just being silly and blowing off steam.” 

     After a short down, I released him and he went tearing around the yard again.  My friend felt less sure of my ‘insanity’ until I had to sidestep a four-foot long stick Malcolm had found in the hedge.  Then I tripped over the tennis ball he’d strategically placed behind me and landed neatly on my backside.

     “Booby-trapped,” I muttered.

     “I’ll visit you in the hospital.”

     She never was a dog person.

Gas explosion rocks the town

 

     At ten forty-five last night I thought my porch roof had fallen off.  The entire house shook.  I soon realized that it was an explosion a few blocks from our home.  It isn’t the first one this city has had in the 37 years I’ve been in this home.

     From the end of our street, you can see a huge cloud of smoke which at three a.m., has yet to dissipate since the houses are still burning.  So far, eight homes are lost and sixteen are in danger.  Two people are missing.  I believe they were residents of the house that blew up taking the others in its wake.

     The firefighters are still battling to control the blaze but can’t get in close enough to save the homes because of the live gas lines.  Many homes and a high-rise for the elderly in the surrounding area were evacuated.

     http://www.wfmz.com/news/index.html

His mother may be leaving us soon

 

     DH’s mother is not doing well.  She spent a few days in the nursing home only to be sent to another hospital the other night.  The nursing home didn’t call us to let us know but, thank goodness, the hospital did.

     She didn’t know DH when he went to see her yesterday.  However, she did eat a little bit of her lunch for him. 

     I ache seeing him hurting like this.  All I can do for him is offer the same comfort he’s given me so often in the past. 

     It’s sad when our parents leave us.  I’m so glad I told my mother I loved her whenever I spoke to her.  I’m glad that although he couldn’t speak, I knew that my father knew me, his eyes lit up and he squeezed my hand when I said, “I love you, Pop.”  I was the only one of his daughters that ever got away with calling him Pop.

Beeps and buzzes that run our lives

 

     Today G mentioned that her new coffee pot started beeping and flashing a clean me light.  Holy cow, talk about having a machine tell you what to do.  At the time, we were waiting for my coffee pot to beep and let us know the pot was ready.  Then our discussion went into other forms of beeps and buzzes that run our lives.

     I complained that due to people having laundry rooms near their bedrooms manufacturers of dryers have done away with the loud buzzer that lets you know it has finished with the cycle.  It’s now an anemic chime.  I hate it.  Why do I hate it?  My dryer is in the basement.  The old dryer had a loud buzzer that I could actually hear and respond to; taking my clothes out, before they became wrinkled.

     I wish the manufacturer had asked me about the chime before they produced the new dryers.  I would have told them to put an optional chime or buzzer switch on them. 

     Consequently, what beeps, buzzes, or chimes run our lives?  Our list consisted of the coffee pot, the dryer, the microwave, alarm clocks, cell phones, and timers for everything.  What beeps, buzzes, or chimes run your life?

A buffet of possibilities

 

     We write chapters of our life with each day we live, every turn on our path, and bump in the road.  When we stumble, we can either move forward or fall on our faces.  I am of the move forward school of thought.

     Keep moving forward don’t turn back.  I’ve burned a few bridges, but then haven’t we all burned one or two?  When you live with regrets, regrets will kick you in the shins, beat you over the head, or eat your heart out.  I won’t live with them.  Regrets make lousy roommates.

     I’d rather dine on the buffet of possibilities.  I want to lift the tops of the chafers on the buffet and snack.  I want to drink the heady wine of discovery.  I will dance with the future.  Hand in hand with my love move forward.  I will help him over the bumps, pick him up when he falls, and together we’ll write more chapters.  In life, there are always possibilities.

A Nor’easter blows through

 

     Nor’easter shmoreaster it’s friggin cold, windy, wet, and plain old miserable.  Wouldn’t you know I’d have to go out in all this muck to shop?  I hate shopping.  I hate it even more when it’s nasty outside. 

     There’s nothing like wrestling a forty pound bag of dog food out of a cart and slinging it into the back of the van with rain pounding down around you.  That is except schlepping bags from a fully loaded shopping cart of groceries into said vehicle on the same trip.  At which time there was the bonus of large snowflakes added to the downpour.  (Lee if you’re reading this, you can stop laughing now it didn’t stick to the ground.)

     Oh, joy, the first snow of the season, blecch!  Mother Nature isn’t finished with us yet, she’s ordered another Nor’easter to come through here right behind this one.  Gee, thanks Ma.

     The dogs and Dear Hubby were all snug in the house.  I was not.  I was carrying things into the house.  Rain soaked, windblown, and cold I dragged the last bag in.  DH told me he was going upstairs to take a nap.  And people wonder why I write murder mysteries…

Where’s Waldo Owl?

 

There's Waldo!

    

Back in my post ’43 Days to Halloween,’ I wrote about the rubber owl I’d bought.  I named him Waldo.  Waldo has become a fixture in the house and an unending source of amusement.  Dear Hubby and I keep moving him.  I don’t think Waldo will be consigned to a box in the attic after Halloween.  We’re having too much fun.

     It’s amazing how many places we’ve found to put him.  We’ve become quite creative.  It took DH a while to find him when I stuck him in the glass fronted (stereo rack system) cabinet.  (We keep our DVD player in there now.)  For the many days, that Waldo stared out at DH from there, DH didn’t find him.  G did—yes, she’s also enjoying the game.  It took DH a week to locate Waldo. 

     Now I have to move him again—I’m thinking that inside the fridge might be fun.  I haven’t put Waldo in there yet.  Of course, that’s only if DH doesn’t move Waldo first.

Wow, my 200th post

 

     I wasn’t sure if I was going to write about anything tonight. 

     My head feels as though it’s been stuffed with wet insulation and my chest sounds like that blank spot on the end of a record album.  Oh, wait.   That would be difficult for many people (under a certain age) to understand.  How about this, my chest sounds like it’s full of pop rocks and I’ve been coughing up pieces of my lungs.  EW, nasty sounding isn’t it?

     The pups snuggled with me every time I managed to sit for a few minutes today.

     I can’t be sick.   I have too much to do.

Craving a cappuccino

 It’s time to dig out my cappuccino machine again. I’ve been craving a good cappuccino and I don’t mean the overpriced coffee bar stuff. Years ago, my younger sister bestowed a lovely little machine upon me that works like a dream. My only problem is my counter space is at a premium and keeping it out all the time is not an option. Thus, it only comes out when I develop a real craving; otherwise, I stick to pots of regular coffee.

    Yes, I said ‘pots of’ I drink tons of coffee each day. Out of at least two pots of coffee in a day, I do believe Dear Hubby drinks maybe two or three cups. The rest I drink. It’s a miracle that I don’t suffer from coffee jitters.

    I’ve always been a coffee junkie and wherever I am there is always a pot of coffee ready and waiting. When I managed a pet store, the local foot patrol knew they could drop in and there’d be coffee for them. If I’d had my little cappuccino machine then I wonder how many more would’ve popped in for a visit, but way back then cappuccino didn’t have the popularity it has today.

“I want my kidney back.”

     A New York man donated a kidney to his wife in 2001 and now he wants it back.  This is all part of a bitter divorce.  He says he wants the kidney or 1.5 million dollars.  He’s a doctor he’s not poor.  He’ll survive, has plenty of money, and the ability to make tons more.  It seems to me it’s simply spite and greed on his part.

     Granted, if what he claims is true, that she had an affair and then filed for divorce in 2005, the man has a right to be pissed.  But there’s pissed and then there’s crazy pissed.  This to me is crazy pissed.

     Is a donated kidney something one normally lists among one’s assets in a divorce procedure?  (I don’t think so!)  Are body parts a marital asset?  (If so, then will all those husbands who paid for boob jobs, face lifts, tummy, and butt tucks before their divorces sprint to court for refunds?)

     Another thing, can you picture a judge ordering her to give the kidney back?  Not gonna happen. 

     On the other hand, if it should occur, what surgeon in his/her right mind would do the surgery?

Taking a French course for fun and a conference

     Salut all!  Last year I met Marie and Pierre at a writer’s conference.  They are a charming French couple who are a lot of fun.  Upon meeting them, I dug around in my brain and dragged out some of my junior high school French.  (We’re talking about a long, long time back.)  I don’t remember much, but some I’ve never forgotten.  Marie was delighted that I knew what I did.  We quickly became friends.

     She’s coming to this year’s conference.  I decided to surprise her by dusting off and brushing up my French.  The other day I bought a Learn to speak French course.  I’ve completely surprised myself with all that I am remembering.

     When I see Marie and Pierre in May I hope to be able to stumble along and at least give them a few laughs. 

     The next step is to have her teach me a few words that one will never find in a French course.  I have my priorities you know.  One has to be able to cuss people out and done in French, it sounds much nicer.  Rather reminds me of this definition of diplomacy:  “The ability to tell someone to go to hell in such a way that they actually look forward to the trip.”

Downloading updates for my new Word program

     I feel as though I’ve been online forever today.  It never fails with Microsoft; you have to spend hours downloading security files and fixes when you put in a new program.  They send their programs off to the market before they have them working properly and leave it to the consumer to update them.  Gee, thanks Bill.

     If I didn’t like using Microsoft Word, so much I wouldn’t buy a newer program.  The program is so friggin’ expensive I couldn’t possibly buy the newest one on the market.  Office Depot ran a sale on Microsoft Office Home and Student 2007 this week and I bought it.  I would’ve rather bought just Microsoft Word but that was way out of my price range- nearly three times the price.  Go figure.

     Now you know these weren’t sitting on the shelf all this time.  You’d think that since it is 2009, all the updates and fixes would’ve been in the 2007 programs when they sent them to market this year.  Hell no.  Why in the world would they make things easier for the consumer? 

     Anyway, you’ll have to excuse me.  I have about 5 more updates to download…