WHERE THERE'S SMOKE THERE'S FIRE

In my absence, I've had surgery and almost 6 months of physical therapy. While I do have use of my left arm once again, it's still weak and has a ways to go before I'll consider it up to my standards. The depressing thing is that I'm facing the same surgery for my right arm and shoulder, but until it gets to the point where I simply can't use it, I'm going to hold off on having more surgery right now. 

Yesterday, I started tackling my sorely neglected yard. My yard man only cuts the grass. Everything else in the yard got put on the back burner until I could get to it. Saying that my flower beds were a mess is not an adequate description of the sorry state they were in when I started cleaning out the weeds yesterday that had over taken the beds. This time of year I always fight the same weed called Devil beggarticks. OMG! If you aren't familiar with this highly invasive weed, let me tell you that if you own dogs and have beggarticks are in your yard, your dogs will come inside the house coated with fine black needle-like seeds that cling to their fur. This time of year I always just about lose what little mind I have left pulling the damn stickers out of my dogs' fur every time they go outside. 

So yesterday I spent all day (6am til about 5pm) outside pulling up three foot plus "devil" weeds by the roots in hopes that I can eliminate them before they go to seed. I pulled and pulled and then when I had my first pile stacked I started burning them. While I burned all the debris I had gathered yesterday and tended the fire, I snapped some pics of the smoke while it swirled and danced in the breeze.

THANK-YOU!

Some people do this sort of thing on Facebook where things like food and family photos and political propaganda go, but I felt this was worthy of a blog post because it's special to me because of who sent it to me. I call him my "adopted son" and if I did that on Facebook it would cause mass hysteria of mega proportions so I'll do it here where people take things in stride. Early this morning I had a package delivered to me...you know how packages are still being delivered for Christmas. Our delivery services are certainly highly overwhelmed during the holiday season! When my son, Matthew came to check on me because I was pretty sick last night, he brought me in a huge box that had just been delivered and left by the front door.  I knew it couldn't be a man because the box wasn't big enough and there weren't any air holes in the box. When I opened it, all my dogs immediately started sniffing it so the containts got their approval. Inside was a beautiful Queen-size Alpaca blanket to go on my bed to keep me and my furbabies toasty warm.

Thor wants to know what's the hold up with putting the blanket on the bed? He's ready to break it in!

💓💓💓💓💓💓💓

UPDATE: My adopted son sent me an update regarding my gift since it arrived after Christmas (like that mattered to me...I don't paddle asses for minor offenses like that) lol  But he felt he needed to explain why my gift had been delayed. The blanket wasn't his first choice. He had ordered up a MAN (actual flesh and blood) for me, kind of a John Travolta looking-fellow with the dancing skills to back it up. That's what he paid for anyway. Sadly, the idiots at FedEx got the delivery instructions wrong when he said to poke some holes in the box so the hunk of burning love could breathe. Instead, they poked holes in the man. What a mess! Needless to say, he didn't survive shipping. The blanket was just a last minute attempt to save face. I felt it was only right that I update my blog entry with my adopted son's first intentions for my gift so everyone would know what a truly thoughtful person he is. What is it they say about good intentions? Isn't the road to Hell paved with them? hahaha!

I love my blanket...it's much, much better than any John Travolta doppelganger.

30 TRUTHS IN 30 DAYS - DAY TWENTY-EIGHT

Truth #28: The truth for Christmas Eve is that today is an excellent day to take a break and just enjoy the day even though it's the coldest day we've had in 30 years. I say "enjoy" the day and that's only after I brave the cold and go out shopping for puppy stuff so I can bring Thor to his new home and introduce him to his new family.  I have one dog sleeping on my heating pad meant for my injured shoulder and the others are snuggled up in their usual spots. I consider Tara, my cat to be one of the pack because she thinks she's a dog or a "cog" (cat-dog). Perhaps the old saying "nothing is constant but change" rings true today as my family increases in size. Later, I'll finish baking Christmas cookies and call it a day by greeting Santa Claus as he lands on my roof with some freshly baked cookies and a cup of hot cocoa before sending him on his way to deliver presents to all the good little boys and girls across the world...and probably a few naughty ones too!

THE GHOST OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT

I had an extremely restless night last night. I was in a lot of pain. Sleep came relatively early which is very unusual for me, but my dreams were strange and scattered. I kept feeling like someone was brushing my hair away from my face. That didn't really bother me, but I couldn't wake myself to see who it was. At the times I did wake up, my pain was so intense I had tears in my eyes because of it. Then I would drift in and out of sleep almost like I had been drugged, but I wasn't drugged. The weird part about the whole thing is that this morning when I woke up to take my dogs out around 6am. When I turned my lamp on there was a pile of sunflower seeds on my nightstand. I don't have any sunflower seeds in my house and I can't tell you when the last time I even ate any sunflower seeds. I have no idea how they got there and they weren't there when I went to bed last night. I really do think I have a poltergeist or maybe I'm going crazy!

I Have A Water Buffalo In My Bed

I wish someone could explain to me how a small dog the size of a Shih Tzu can expand to the size of a water buffalo in bed at night.  I'm lucky if I get 6 inches of bed. I must push her over at least a dozen times a night, but she loves to snuggle and PUSH! Most of time I don't mind, but when I'm in pain, it gets to be a little too much togetherness.  Typically, what my babies do is burrow under the covers and find a spot.  Fenway's spot is always right up against me.  She loves her momma!

My other small dog, B.A. (a Doodle aka Doxiepoo) settles in and you'd never know he's there until morning when he wakes up and wants to go out and then it's a fire drill to get outside.  While he and Libby eagerly go outside, I always have to come back inside to roust Fenway out of bed because she loves to root around in the sheets before going outside. Isn't it funny the routines animals establish?

My third dog, Libby (a Dandie Dinmont Terrier) sleeps in a dog bed...go figure! She doesn't like being outside.  She has severe allergies so all her outside activities are just out and right back in followed by an hour or two of scratching.  She does take allergy meds which help somewhat, but to date nothing has given her complete relief. I've spent thousands of dollars trying to find something that works, but as of now nothing has.  The vet just tries to keep it as managed as possible with diet etc.

A CRACK IN MY WHEEL BARROW

The birds were squawking at me as soon as I let the dogs out at 6am. They wanted to be fed. That meant I needed to go get 60lbs of bird seed out of the trunk of my car. I debated whether or not to go get dressed first because it had rained in the night and trudging through the wet grass and cleaning out the feeders would probably get messy. But I opted to stay as is and get wet. Getting wet is always fun. Right?

Part way through the task, two of my dogs wanted to go back in the house because they do not like the humidity. The other dog seems resistant to the presence of humidity and will stay outside all day with me.  He's my little helper! It's a shame I can't teach him how to prune shrubbery and do other outside tasks. We have detailed conversations about the plants, the birds and other happenings in the yard. After finishing up with the birds, I decided I'm going to start working on my next rock statue. In order to do this, I need to make a trip to Lowe's to purchase a new wheel barrow. My old one has had a nervous breakdown. It's been fixed so many times, it's gotten way beyond repair and can't haul heavy rocks in it. I could carry them, but I'd rather save my back and let a wheel barrow do the work.

I went in the house to clean up a bit and to ask my son to accompany me to Lowe's.  I knew which wheel barrow I wanted so the trip would be a short one. They have them lined up right outside the front of the store so all I needed to do is go inside and pay for one and a clerk will come out and unlock the chain and I can get my wheelbarrow and we can go. When we first got there, we looked at the wheel barrow I wanted and we discussed whether or not we thought it would fit in the car. We both thought it would, so off we went to purchase it. The line wasn't too brutal...everyone was wearing masks. The sun was out and Sunday looked like it was going to be a wonderful day.

I finally get up to the register, I pay for the wheel barrow, the clerk meets us outside and we can't get it in the car. Nope! It's not going to fit anyway we try it. I asked my son to go inside to see if they have one unassembled we can bring home and put together ourselves. While he's inside I'm standing there looking at the wheel barrow and this gentleman walks over to me and asks me if I need help putting the wheel barrow in my car. I look up at him and I almost fell over. There before me is this tall, handsome older man with the bluest eyes I've ever seen. I smiled at him and told him that my son and I had already tried numerous ways to get it in the car and it wouldn't fit. He asked me how far I lived from Lowe's. I told him that I only lived about 5 minutes away. He then offered the use of his truck if we trusted him. He said we could take a photo of his tag on his truck. I couldn't believe that people still helped one another out like that. He almost renewed my faith in humanity just in that small gesture of kindness.

Okay now, that I have your attention! All that really did happen except it wasn't a tall, good-looking older gentlemen who came over to me. In my dreams!!! SIGH!!! It was a couple and they were so nice. I really was amazed at their generosity. They put my wheel barrow on the back of their truck and brought it to my house. My son tried to pay them, but they refused. To pay it forward, we figured we would find some charity and donate some money to it. I think I'd like to donate to an animal charity. Maybe I'll ask my vet when I bring my Shih Tzu for blood work this week if they know of a local rescue place or something that needs a donation. I just hate giving money to places that don't use the money for the cause.

Anyway, so as soon as we get the wheel barrow unloaded, we load it up with the rocks I'm going to use for my statue and take the load to the spot in the backyard I want to build the statue. Then we go get the other load. In the process of doing this I find a two huge colonies of fire ants. I had my yard treated about 3 weeks ago for fire ants and it's supposed to be good for one year. I make a mental note to call Florida Pest Control in the morning and get them back out here.  After all, the treatment was rather pricey and it's guaranteed for one year. The wheel barrow I chose was one of those wheel barrows with two wheels and the bed is made of some kind of hard durable plastic.  I figured for what I would be using it for in my yard it would be fine. Oh Mildred, you need to just stop thinking and when you do think, do the complete opposite.

My son started tossing the rocks (some of them are really large) into the wheel barrow before I could tell him to take it easy that it isn't made of metal. The next thing I know the base of the wheel barrow had a large crack in it. Oops! I ended up having to call Lowe's and had to set up a date to have them come pick up this wheel barrow and have them issue me a refund, then I had to buy a new wheel barrow that is made of metal and pay a hefty delivery fee that is as much as what the wheel barrow costs. So when they come to pick up the the "old" wheel barrow, they'll bring me my new wheel barrow and all this is supposed to happen on the 30th.

Hallelujah! I'm having a Wheel Barrow Party on the 30th. I'm going to get drunk and sleep in my new wheel barrow or better yet, I'm going to get stoned and sleep in my new wheel barrow.  Or maybe I'll get drunk and stoned and maybe some tall, handsome older gentleman will wheel me off somewhere...but, ONLY if he has a toolbelt and a truck and he knows how to use his tools! The S.O.B. better know how to use his tools or else he's outta here... Mildred isn't fooling around!

THE FACE OF A KILLER

My little 12 lb. doodle (dachshund/poodle mix) is a total love bug. The first thing he does whenever anyone comes to my house is brings them one of his toys so they can play with him. He loves to play fetch. Now, if the person doesn't follow his lead then he starts coaxing the person by "talking" to them by making his cute noises until the person pays attention. Hey, wake up! You're in my house and there's certain rules one must abide by in this house and playing with the doodle is one of them. It's mandatory.

His name is B.A. which doesn't mean anything. B. A. = Be Anything, but after the other night I think it needs to stand for BADASS.  My Shih Tzu, Fenway is the Queen and the alpha dog of the house. She runs the roost.  Fenway weighs about 16 lbs. Libby is a Dandie Dinmont Terrier and she weighs about 16 lbs. Although Fenway runs the roosts, she doesn't have what I would say is an aggressive personality. She's just bossy! Libby is generally pretty laid back until she's provoked or agitated and then she becomes very aggressive. 

One of the first things a person notices when they come here is the amount of toys my dogs have, but the toys aren't for my dogs. They belong to B.A.!!! You see, if B.A. didn't have those toys to chew on, we wouldn't have a house. When he was younger, he chewed everything! And when I say everything. I mean EVERYTHING! He ate my box spring to my bed. He ate the living room carpet. He ate countless comforters on my bed. He ate eyeglasses. He ate my mother's false teeth. He ate furniture like he was a beaver. The question should be what didn't he eat?  He doesn't do that stuff now, but he has his toys to chew on and he "husks" his toys.  By husking them I mean he pulls all the stuffing and the squeakers out of them. And once he husks them we can't throw them away. So we have a toy box filled with toys in various stages of being destroyed, but to B.A. they're still great. He still drags them around like they're brand new.

One of B.A.'s duties is to protect the house and the yard and he takes that job very seriously. He has no idea that he's only a 12 pound lean mean fighting machine. Each time he goes outside he patrols the backyard and the inside of the garage. It's really funny to watch him follow the same route each time.  He goes in back of each bush and sniffs everything all over. Nothing happens in the yard that he doesn't know about. He's on top of everything! Once he killed a mole and brought it inside for us to praise him. When we tried to take it away from him he took it under the bed. Yuck! He doesn't bother the birds or squirrels and that surprises me. But I think that may be because he sees me interact with them. Libby chases the squirrels, but they're too quick for her to catch. Fenway wouldn't care if an elephant was standing in the middle of the yard, but she will bark if she hears a dog down the street barking. She wants them to know where the queen lives. I suppose in their own way they do their jobs and that's what they're supposed to do.

The other evening after dinner I took all three dogs. I go out with them even though I do have a large fenced backyard. Before we knew it Libby and B.A. had cornered a raccoon, and then B. A. got it and killed it. I tried my best to intercede and tried to get B.A. to release the raccoon, but he wouldn't let go of it. He had a death grip on it and kept shaking it. By the time he did let go, it was dead. The other racoon kept trying to crawl up my pant leg because it was terrorized. I finally got it to leave before Libby noticed it and I hope it got scared enough to not come back in the yard again.

What freaked me out was how ferocious B.A. was. He's only 12 pounds...he kills rats, he kills moles. Who knows what else he kills. I know he runs off feral cats, but I think he'd have his hands full with a feral cat if he got in a fight with one. I realized once I started feeding the birds, the birdseed would attract other creatures, but I don't want a whole zoo in my yard and I definitely don't want my dogs fighting with wild animals. Sigh! I guess I need to start paying closer attention to what's happening outside in the menagerie before I let the killer hounds outside at dusk.

And I still feel horrible about the raccoon...
I'm an animal lover
Well, I don't love rats and stuff like that, but raccoons are cute.
And I know B.A. was only doing what his instinct told him to do, but it still made me feel bad...

Tara

It was Christmas Eve 2008 when Tara came to live with us. Whitey (my last surviving Himalayan cat) had just about grieved himself to death after Chewy, his brother passed away in May. He needed a friend, but I wasn't ready for another cat. Chewy was my baby. I loved him dearly and it crushed me when he died. He had cancer and I had to have him put to sleep. I guess that's the polite terminology for euthanizing your pet, but there's nothing polite about death.

Like a fool I used to go out doing last minute Christmas stuff and I had my son, Matthew with me. When we were headed home, I turned into the Escambia County Animal Shelter and he looked at me and asked me the obvious. Whitey had given us very specific instructions to follow: NO FEMALE CATS and NO BLACK CATS. The reason for this was that his very own mother hated him. Yes, his mother wasn't very nice (she used to bite him and the bites would et infected) and my mother had a black cat named Bob who got ahold of Whitey once and tore his neck open...so NO BLACK CATS and NO FEMALES CATS.

In we went to the Animal Shelter and they had a great selection of kittens and cats, but none of them seemed too playful or had very much personality except one and it kept sticking its paw out through the cage EVERY time we walked by. Hey, pick me! You guys, pick me! It talked and talked and talked and carried on until we came over and read its card and talked to it. So we ended up bringing that cat home for Whitey...it took him about a week to get used to HER. Yes, it was a FEMALE! And yes it was BLACK! He taught her all his bad habits and told her she didn't have to be a lap cat, but about a month before my mother's cat died she started sleeping on my mother's bed as if she knew my mother would need that when Pat was gone. Basically, she's become my mother's cat over the last few years and I think that's a good thing for both of them.

Today Tara is having surgery. She has a mass on her lower left side. The vet says that in cats that it's usually cancer, but they won't know for sure until the pathology report comes back. I know she's just a cat, but if you can please keep Tara in your thoughts I'd really appreciate it. She's a good kitty and we'd like to have her back home and healthy. Fenway, Libby and B.A. are cogs (cat/dogs) and Tara is a member of their pack. They patiently await her return...

Addendum: Thursday November 7, 2019 7:24am: This was written as a draft and was supposed to be posted on Thursday and not on Wednesday. It was my screw up for posting it early. Tara is getting operated today. I'll be dropping her off at the vet in less than hour.

Addendum: Thursday November 7, 2019 3:36pm: Tara is home and doing well. She was sent home with pain meds to take if she needs them. The vet at Megan's Landing Veterinary Clinic said the mass was easily removed. It appeared to be in a sac and had not metastasized to any other surrounding area. We'll know more when the pathology report comes back. I'd like to thank everyone for their support. It means so much to me.

Last Update: Sunday December 11, 2022 8:55am: The mass was cancer, but to date it never returned. Tara is now 14 years old and still a member of the dog pack. 

KEEPING THE DOGS HAPPY

Spoiled dogs waiting for bones

Saturday morning I was coming back from a "shopping trip" at a local medical cannabis  dispensary (VidaCann) when I took a short cut across town because I wanted to stop at a certain grocery store to buy my spoiled dogs some bones. Publix is the only store here in Pensacola where the butcher packages the discarded bones and puts them in the freezer section. I cut across Michigan Avenue to get to Publix and before I knew it I was right by where I used to live with my ex-husband.

Keep in mind it's been a very long time since I've been married. When I say a very long time, I mean a VERY long time. I've been divorced since 1997. I'm not against marriage. I don't hate my ex-husband. I'm not bitter. I don't hate men. I think holding grudges and harboring resentment only hurts the person who holds that negative stuff inside them. I had to let that stuff go and forgive...not for their sake but for mine. And as for marriage... I found that being alone was better than being with the wrong person. I'm not saying there isn't a right person out there for me. All I'm saying is that to date, I haven't found that person. I'm not actively looking so chances of me finding that person is slim to nil...

Anyway, getting back to my little story. When I drove past where I used to live I had the strangest reaction. I got a knot in the pit of my stomach.  I'm not what I would call a high strung, anxious person, but seeing my old home sure brought out some anxiety or something in me.  All of sudden it was hard to breathe. I felt hot all over. I had a knot in the pit of my stomach and then I felt nauseous. It all passed rather quickly. Almost as quickly as it started. But I kept having a strange feeling like I almost expected to run into my ex-husband at the grocery store or some place else. I didn't and I'm glad I didn't. It just was weird and it rattled me for a moment or two and I usually don't get rattled. By the time I got home I was okay and my dogs were glad to see momma had brought them a special treat.

I GAVE BIRTH TO A PRINCESS

This is my beautiful daughter, Princess Christina. She would like to have people believe I hung a porkchop around her neck as a child so at least the dogs would play with her. What a sassy little vixen she is and also she's bursting at the seams from being full of crap! She's talented in so many ways and I truly wish she would see her full potential instead of spinning her wheels like yours truly (I guess this comes from being raised by a mother who had potential, but did everything she could to destroy it).

Gratitude statement: I'm thankful for rubber porkchops because they are reusable!