There he goes turning my whole world around

Broken Arrow -- Robbie Robertson -- 1987

So..............

Anyone celebrating tonight? Going to parties? Getting thoroughly and completely hammered?

I will be at home, eating goodies and trying to stay awake enough to cock an ear at Dick Clark's mumbling.

I learned many years ago that New Year's Eve is not a night I want to either be on the roads or at a gathering. One of my closest friends in my ER days was a woman from Jamaica. She and her family did not celebrate at Christmas, but New Year's Eve was the time that they gathered. She and I made an arrangement that she would work Christmas Eve for me and I would world New Year's for her. We did this for all of the years when my daughter was little. As a single mother, it was priceless for me to be able to have that night off, and the arrangement was perfect for both of us. However, working all those New Year's in an inner-city ER, I learned a lot about the nature of idiots who celebrate too much and end up in an Emergency Room.

Too many drunken assholes converging at once. I can't even tolerate one drunken asshole, never mind a crowd of them. I made a vow then to do my celebrating at home, safely. And, since I don't drink............whenever I say that in public, people automatically assume I am a recovering alcoholic or a bible-thumper; I am neither...............my party will consist of some decadent foods, some TV, a phone call from my daughter and a bit of melancholy.

New Year's Eve is also the birthday of the person I loved the best......and lost. It has been many, many years since that happened and I doubt I will ever fully let it go.

Happy Birthday L.

Happy New Year to everyone else.

I'd rather be with an animal

Animal -- Pearl Jam -- 1994

I am not a card carrying member of PETA. I am not a paint throwing, poster holding supporter of the HSUS. I simply try to help rescue and rehabilitate the dog breed that I love. In that process, I have learned a bit about the nature of animals, and a bit more about the stupidity of humans.

That is why this story caught my attention as it blazed across my TV screen.

The parents of the boy who was killed were on the morning news. They were shocked and confused. Their son had said he was going to visit a friend, but apparently lied and decided to go to the zoo near closing time. He was mauled to death and his parents had no idea he was even there.

There is now some question as to whether or not this teenager provoked the attack by attempting to climb into the tiger enclosure, or by dangling his leg over the side. Without the statements of the other 2 injured victims, the police can only rely on the evidence recovered at the scene and the testimony of various wildlife experts. All of whom are insisting that there is NO WAY a tiger could scale an 18 foot wall, cross a moat and jump over a fence to hunt and maul 3 humans.

Without help.

If any of these 3 were involved in assisting this tiger's escape, or are found to have been baiting the animal into an attack.........all I can say is they got exactly what they deserved.

Yes, they did.

If that pisses you off......go away.

It's not that I am pro-animal and anti-human. It's that I am pro-intelligence and anti-stupidity.

This was a wild animal. A dangerous animal. An animal doing what it has been bred to do........ for thousands of years. It was attacking prey. If the human in some way made itself the prey, what else is to be expected?

When the animal reacts as animals do, humans are shocked and surprised. Tell me. Exactly who is stupid?

I feel much the same sickened way when I see this moronic video sent again and again to e-mail lists and animal groups. Everybody ooohhhhs and says awwwwwww. Isn't that sweet????

Until the poor dog decides that he is sick of a little boy teasing him by putting treats on his head and decides to grab one from the boy's hand. Or gets fed up with being used as a pseudo jungle gym and growls or snaps when the little boy climbs, yet again, onto his back. I can bet that dog will be euthanized without a moments regret on the part of the asinine owners........ and they will cry and wonder why their beloved family pet would "turn" on their son. They will claim ignorance. They will blame the dog and deny any responsibility on their part.

The dog is AN ANIMAL people. An animal. Not a substitute babysitter. Not a playmate. Not a toy. It is an animal that will, when fearful or injured or startled, react as an animal SHOULD.

If humans are ignorant enough to think otherwise, maybe we all deserve to be bitten.

Teach your children to respect animals. Teach them to be gentle to their family pets. Teach them that above all, an animal, even when domesticated by humans, will react in the only way they can when threatened. Some will claw, some will bite, some will growl. Some will run away in fear.

Rarely will they ever attack first.

The sight of that 300 pound beautiful beast dead on the sidewalk has angered me. If the humans involved were innocent victims, I will feel badly for them, but I don't expect that will be the outcome of the investigation.

It hardly ever is.

What I wanted, is what I wanted

Kitchenware and Candy Bars -- Stone Temple Pilots -- 1994




Merry friggin Christmas Eve to my reader.

No mistake.

Because I have embraced the holiday spirit, fully, I have decided to share my Christmas wish list with you. Dear reader.

My list is a "money is no object" type of deal. Because I have an enormous contingent of friends and relatives who are millionaires.

Please, feel no pressure to run out and purchase any of these items for me today. I can wait.

My life has been one big, long, eternal, infernal wait.




LIST:

1. This-


Somewhere warm. No snow. No neighbors.



2.This -
In exactly that color. I don't give a shit if you think it's ugly. It will hold dog crates, it won't chew up and piss out a tank of gas in one afternoon, and blue is my favorite color. 4WD EX automatic please. And don't be cheap on the accessories.



3.This -
Just for zipping around town. It doesn't come in blue, so please have it custom painted. And add a sidecar. And get 5 pairs of Doggles, 4 small, 1 large.



4. One of these -

They don't come in blue either, but I think the classic silver would be a fine compliment to the Honda Element. By the way, make sure that Element has a trailer hitch.



5. - One or two of them

Preferably the ones who won titles for their expertise with Poodles. And please find them nearby housing. I need them on call at all times.



6. Him -


HURRY!! He's getting old and I don't want him to run out of stamina before I have my shot.



7. In case #6 doesn't work out, I have a backup plan. Him -



and finally,




8. This

Because I am tired of failing. And being unable to admit that I need help.

Well maybe we should all be praying for time

Praying For Time -- George Michael -- 1990

My grandfather died when I was almost 4.

I have no memories of him at all. He was my mother's father. When he died, he had been married to my grandmother for almost 40 years, had raised 5 daughters and had seen the birth of 17 grandchildren. He had suffered from several serious health issues in his declining years, and as a result, he and my grandmother had chosen to sell their large 3 family house and move into a small Cape Cod, the same house where I now live with my family. He only survived for a few short months in that house. His children had all grown and had their own families. Everyone was going about the business of living their own lives.

Until the first Christmas after his death. My grandmother was alone in a new house, only her memories to keep her company. Her daughters all issued invitations to their respective homes for the holiday. My grandmother chose to spend the day with her oldest daughter, son-in-law and their 9 children. She hated every moment of it.

Years later she would still recall the noise and the frenzy over gifts, her inability to relax and enjoy the holiday that had always meant so much to her. There were new traditions, new foods, a crowd of rambunctious children. Her daughter's family was making their own family memories and my grandmother felt like an interloper. While she loved her family, my grandmother decided that she preferred to stay at home for the holidays.

In the months that followed, my father left my mother and me. He simply walked out the door and never returned. He left my mother with a young child, a mountain of unpaid bills and no hope. My mother struggled to keep the bill collectors at bay. She was forced to relinquish her car and ride the bus to work. Some of our furniture was repossessed. Sometimes we had no heat.

She tried, for many months to keep up with the court dates for divorce and child support proceedings. She was appointed a disinterested attorney. She often had to miss work and risked losing her job. My father was ordered to pay child support, but when no money was forthcoming, my mother had to make a difficult decision that she simply was not able to pursue the matter any further through the legal system. She was out of money. She took on 2 extra jobs to survive.

As the winter months approached, my grandmother issued us an invitation. She wanted us to come and spend Christmas with her in her little house. It would be just the 3 of us.......my grandmother, my mother and me. We had all lost someone we loved and needed each other to make it through the holidays. My mother gratefully accepted.

So began the tradition of spending Christmas with my grandmother. When I still believed in Santa, my grandmother would keep me occupied by baking, decorating and helping her prepare as my mother returned to our third floor apartment to make numerous trips down the stairs with my wrapped gifts. She would stuff them into her third-hand Volkswagen Beetle, drive back to my grandmother's house and unload them under the tree after I had gone to bed for the night. 2 days later, she would re-load the car with the opened gifts and bring them all back home to our place.

Christmas with my grandmother was magical for me. She had a chimney for Santa's arrival, she had a yard to try out the latest sled or bicycle that he brought. She appointed me official food chopper when making the stuffing for the turkey, or potato and carrot peeler for the side dishes. We made Christmas cookies to give away to friends and family. She always let me choose how I wanted to decorate my cookies and lavished praise on my creations.

Every year, she put fresh linens on both of the twin beds in the upstairs bedroom so I could choose which bed I wanted to sleep in. I always chose the bed closest to the chimney, hopeful that I would be able to hear Santa's arrival. It is the same bedroom I sleep in to this day.

On Christmas morning, I had to wait at the top of the stairs and call to my mother before being granted permission to come down. The wait always seemed interminable as my grandmother hurried to the bathroom and my mother got her a morning glass of Orange Juice. I can still vividly recall the excitement of sitting on that top step, craning my neck to see if I could spot the corner of a gift peeking out from under the tree.

My grandmother insisted that I be allowed to open my gifts first, then my mother, and hers last. She reveled in the happiness of her family. After we finished, we would eat a traditional breakfast together and then later, other extended family would arrive to share in the holiday.

This tradition continued until my daughter was born........and then the only change was the order of gift-opening. My daughter was promoted to the head of the line. As my grandmother aged, we took over some of the duties for meal preparation, but on Christmas morning, I still sat at the top of those stairs, holding my daughter's hand while we waited for my grandmother to settle with her orange juice on the end of the couch with the best view.

My grandmother died in the summer when I was 25. My daughter was 7 and still believed in Santa. By that time, my mother, my daughter and I lived in the house my grandmother and grandfather had purchased so many years before. The same house where all of my Christmas memories had been made. We continued those same traditions for my daughter that holiday season, but my heart was not truly ready to celebrate. My every memory of Christmas had been sculpted by my love for my grandmother, and all of the joy seemed somehow muted by her absence.

As the years passed, my pain over her loss smoothed at the edges and new, happy events filled those empty spaces. By the time my daughter was old enough to know the truth about Santa, my cousin and his wife were expanding their family with the newest generation of children. We again shared traditions that had been passed down for many years, and we relished the joy of Christmas through the eyes of children, as my grandmother had done for so many years before us.

Now the years have passed. Our extended family has been fractured by divorce, the children taken away. My daughter is a young woman. Although my mother, my daughter and I will still spend our traditional Christmas day together, I am having trouble conjuring up the joy that was always so important to the season. Especially at this time of year, I miss my grandmother terribly. I miss her optimism in the face of heartache. I miss her willingness to open her broken heart to a child in need. I miss her joy. But mostly, I miss her sitting at the end of the couch, orange juice in hand.

I just want this next week to be over quickly.

He awakens each morn with a smile on his face..........

When a boy is in love and the world to him is a beautiful place -- Sam Cooke -- When A Boy Falls In Love -- 1965



The Heat Miser and I love to, in the nice weather months, go to tag sales, estate sales, rummage sales.........

To put it nicely, we're cheap. We love a good bargain.

Especially when it comes to toys for the Poodles. For any of you that have dogs, you are probably intimately aware of the obscene prices charged for dog toys.

Toys that are dragged through the dirt, slobbered on, shredded, de-stuffed and de-squeaked. Within moments of having the price tags removed.

Multiply that destruction by 5 and you can understand my stubborn refusal to spend more than a dollar or two on dog toys. Sure, when I just had one sweet little puppy, I bought him the world. If we walked into our local pet boutique and he sniffed his wet little nose in the general vicinity of ANYTHING, I bought it.

Now that I have 5 hooligans, I simply cannot fathom wasting that type of money on a toy that will last the equivalent amount of time as a quickie.

In my younger years, of course. Now, there would be nothing quick about it. I would probably need a tutorial in 3 languages.

Alas, I digress.

So the Poodles have become accustomed to hand-me-downs. All of their toys are purchased as castoffs, typically from a frazzled Mom with a home stuffed to the gills with things their kids have outgrown. I have developed a hawkeye for the types of things my pups like to play with. Show me a stuffie made for a Yuppie baby, I'm all over it. We all know the kind, the learning toys..........multiple primary colors, the crinkly stuff in the appendages. These types of toys:






My dogs go wild for them.

So the HM and I are always on the lookout for new, interesting and CHEAP toys for them to play with. I always try to avoid any toys with movable and removable parts, anything that can be broken into small plastic, intestine-piercing bits, and things that sing or play music.

I have one dog, Willie, who ADORES anything with wheels, so little stuffed cars are his fancy. Sadie and Annie will bitch-fight over anything with a rattle inside. Maisie likes sweet, soft stuffed animals, and Trevor will play with anything that happens to be hanging around. Since his favorite thing in the world, until recently has been any type of hard ball, I normally don't scour the tag sales for things specifically geared toward him. I keep a stock of his favorite balls on hand and he is a happy camper.

A few months ago, two local preschools had their annual tag sales. Both schools hold the sales as fund-raisers, so we always try to attend. The families of the children who attend the schools donate unwanted items to the sales, so where better to find a hefty collection of kiddie toys?

We scored big. All of the stuffed toys were being sold for 25 cents. We filled up a bag and brought them home. I chose a few to give to the Poodles and put the rest away for a later time. There was much romping and tossing and chewing and tugging on the new presents, mainly by the little dogs. Trevor watched all of this and quietly made his way over to a lone toy laying on the living room floor. He carted the toy back to his bed, gave it a good once over and decided that he was truly, madly, deeply and forever in love with this toy. Please, meet his bestest love, Larry:




Larry the Cucumber is a character from the animated kids show Veggie Tales. Luckily, I have never had the occasion to watch it, but my Trevor LOVES him some Larry. All you have to do is say " hey Trev, where's Larry?" and he's off on the hunt until he locates him. Larry says a few phrases when you hit the bottom of the toy against something or drop him on the floor, so all evening we are treated to a charming litany of " I am not a pickle, I'm a cucumber" or " have you seen my hairbrush?". Over and over again, Trevor drops him on the floor to make Larry chatter.

It is a barrel of laughs at my house, lemme tell you.

But now we have a dilemma. Larry is getting a little frayed at the edges. A few small tears portend Larry's ultimate demise. So I am on the hunt for more Larrys. And Larry is a discontinued toy. So, the search is on. Like the asshole I am, I even posted 2 ads on craigslist specifically begging for the talking Larry. I found one reasonably priced Larry on E-Bay and snatched him up. I have haunted websites looking for more Larrys, but on principle, I can't see spending 20 dollars on a toy for a dog, no matter how much I love him.

Trevor, not Larry. I kinda hate Larry. He really is annoying. But my Trevor loves, loves, loves Larry.

The idea of a life without Larry might just be too much for Trevor to bear.

It's vocation or vacation, some are workers, some are not

Heaven 17 - Crushed by the Wheels of Industry - 1983

I have returned!!!! You can all get up off your knees now, cease the fervent praying, put down the voodoo dolls. I am back.

I was on vacation. I kept it a secret to stave off the lurking paparazzi and potential stalkers. I didn't want anyone to know what I was doing on my magical vacation. So now that it's officially over, I'll give you all a day-by-day itinerary of what I did. In detail. You may want to pour yourself a drink. Pack rations. Plan your funeral and sign your will.

This is gonna be a long one.


Day 1, December 1, Saturday: Not really an official vacation day, but day one away from the office (I count weekends to make my life seem more interesting than it is). The Heat Miser and I are up and out of the house by 8 a.m. The Christmas season is upon us and we have a few gift purchases that actually require stepping foot into a shopping establishment. We hit 4 stores in 1 hour and then we are off to pick up a piece of furniture for the Princess. It was a vintage cabinet advertised on Craigslist. It exactly matches her kitchen table and since she is in desperate need of storage, it was a great find. Drive 4 cities away, wrestle the rather large cabinet down 2 flights of stairs, drive home, wrestle it back up to the Princess' apartment. Go home. Do laundry, clean yard in preparation for the real vacation.

Day 2, December 2, Sunday: Still not official vacation, but prep-for-vacation day. Go to Princess' apartment to help her re-organize some items and pack others away. After 3 hours, give up and come home. Rake eleventy gazillion leaves for the 4th time out of front yard ( because lazy ass neighbors rake NONE and New England decides to have winds of epic proportions). Curse neighbors, finish leaves, rub hands in anticipation of vacation!

Day 3, December 3, Monday: Even though it is officially the start of vacation, it is still not really vacation yet as I must fulfill my day of Volunteer training at Hospice. So I can be a better Pet Therapy Volunteer. In order to learn how to visit patients with my dog, I spend the day stocking shelves, passing out and cleaning up lunch trays, feeding people to weak to eat on their own, and running back and forth to the kitchen for special diet orders. Woooohoooooo! This vacation is shaping up to be a winner.

Day 4, December 4, Tuesday: Vacation begins!!!!!!!!!! Bounce out of bed at my 7:30 a.m alarm. Race to feed the dogs, let them out, clean the yard, take a shower, get dressed. Done by 8:15. Ready for the fun to begin. I start by going upstairs to the Princess' old room to move furniture. You see, in a Cape Cod style house, there is typically no attic, so storage space is tucked behind the eaves. To get at the lesser used items stored there, I had to move a chair, a dresser and a few smaller items. Heavy, but manageable. I was in! I found exactly what I was looking for. 63.7 boxes of Christmas decorations.

Spend ALL DAY lugging said boxes down the flight of stairs, decorating the inside of the house, putting up and decorating the Christmas tree, cleaning up my mess, lugging it back up the flight of stairs and unceremoniously dumping it on the floor of the Princess' former room.......too exhausted to put it all away again. Eat dinner, fall into bed.

Day 5, December 5, Wednesday: Hop lithely out of bed at the sound of the alarm, feed dogs, send them out, clean yard, take shower, get dressed. Decide that yesterday's vacation day was a pure anomaly and today will be better. Pull out my many pages of directions and set off on a new adventure. Removing the 20 + year old kitchen floor. LINOLEUM STICK-ON TILES. That have been firmly stuck for all of those 20 + years. The HM has been desperate to get rid of this floor for many years.

When we moved into the house, we hastily applied the tiles to cover the ancient mini-brick style linoleum that had been put down in the 1400's by marauding bands of Cherokee. It was off-white, impossible to keep clean with 5 dogs, curling at the edges and gross.

I first try to steam the tiles off. That seems to yield some disappointing results as dime sized pieces chip off at a maddeningly slow pace. Get out the big guns............heavy duty ice scraper. With some brute force, several carefully inserted curse words and a few quasi-prayers, tiles begin to pop off of the floor in record time. Before long----------all the tiles are removed! Now I am just left with a sticky, sticky, STICKY floor. And an enormous pile of broken linoleum pieces. Spend rest of afternoon cleaning kitchen mess and step-hop-jumping around the room to avoid being caught like Jeff Goldblum on a giant sheet of flypaper. Eat, fall into bed.

Day 6, December 6, Thursday: Roll out of bed, feed dogs.........etc. Make a batch of cupcakes and frost them. Wait for HM to come home. Drive to Princess' school to celebrate HER BIRTHDAY!!!!! Surprise her, stay with her and the kiddies for an hour, leave, bless the peace and quiet of the world outside of a pre-school classrooom, go out to lunch with the HM, go to nearby home improvement store, pick out new kitchen flooring, load it into car, go home, load floor from car to dining room. Take care of dogs, do laundry ( many items now filthy and/or sticky). Eat dinner, fall..........etc.

Day 7, December 7, Friday: Get up. Do morning stuff. Go to local hardware store. Get floor leveling compound for uneven areas of kitchen floor. Mix and apply compound, coat floor with Stain Kilz to get rid of sticky, sticky, STICKY. Marvel at my home-improvement skills. Go upstairs as Stain Kilz dries to clean and reorganize Princess' former room. Put away all decoration detrius, put furniture back, finish laundry, go back downstairs to kitchen and remove all 1/4 round molding from baseboards. Eat din..........etc.

Day 8, December 8, Saturday. Begrudgingly creep out of bed, stomp down the stairs, let the dogs out........etc. Don't even bother to shower.

Gather supplies, tools and the Heat Miser. Read directions and watch enclosed DVD on laminate floor installation. Begin.

Manage to install ENTIRE laminate kitchen floor in 5 hours!!!!!! Wooooohoooooo me! Begin to move appliance and furniture back into room, only to discover that refrigerator is now too high to fit under high alcove cabinets with the addition of the new floor. Move fridge back out, heatedly chop out bottom shelf of useless above-the-fridge-where-no-damn-person-can-reach-them cabinets, plane and sand the bottom of said cabinet doors, replace everything, move fridge back into alcove and sit on the floor unable to move from sheer exhaustion. Eat chips, go to bed.

Day 9, December 9, Sunday: Final day of vacation. Time to rest. Except that kitchen molding needs to be finished, door thresholds need to be installed. And, WE ARE GETTING A FUCKING ICE STORM!!! So, the garage needs to be cleaned and organized to fit at least one car in.

Finish all projects, sit in chair watching, but not actually seeing the television for 3 hours, drag myself into bed and realize I forgot to eat dinner. Go to sleep, dreaming of returning to work where I can sit in my comfy chair and lift nothing over 6 ounces.



Oh, and by the way, here is an example of the floor that I so lovingly installed (minus the fancy furniture that is not mine. It must belong to a muckety-muck at Dupont) . It really does look great and the HM is beyond thrilled. She can't wait for me to take some more vacation time. Next year, I'll donate my vacation time to someone else in need. Or insane.