When you find something that you sink your teeth into and can’t seem to let go of because it
just HAS to get done
just HAS to be perfect
just HAS to get out there
Geesh…my doggy-jaw is ExHaUsTeD
For those that visit me here; are friends of mine on Facebook; do the Google-y +1 circle thing with me…you know what I’m talking about.
I’ve been buried in photos, copy, making videos, posting videos, making advertisements, paying for advertisements, and now my social pages are fraught with links to
Our first Open House is this Sunday and all I want for Christmas is a BUYER!
In the meantime, however, I’ll keep slogging along, doing my thing, and hopefully not lose what family and friends I have because they are sick of me SeLLing My HoUsE all over cyberspace!
I cannot, in all honesty, say it thrilled me when I heard the kids had gotten a Trampoline.
With a 12-year-old and 3-year-old on that behemoth bouncy bone breaker, I had visions of head wounds and little fingers and toes caught in the webbing, and mid-air collisions that would result in trips to the emergency room.
However, never let it be said that Grammy Rhoni is not one to ‘give it a chance’.
So, on many a morning during our recent trip to almost heaven…I sat with my trusted and constant companion and just watched.
I’m glad I did and hope you can see why.
My laddie is definitely a TRAMP!
The hours of laughter, sweat, and no tears were worth every wrinkle the idea of this thing gave me!I observed big Alex having as much, if not more, fun than the little Alex dude But he DID get his turn!What heart wouldn’t melt at seeing the end of such a time? Mine sure did. What a sight!
So…I guess the lesson here, for all you Grams and Gramps out there…look before you leap; to conclusions that is.
Supervision, common sense, and a love for life is all that’s needed to make this a safe place to be a TRAMP!
A twist on the twister lovingly known as crazytraintotinkytown. Dallas and I have collaborated twice before this one…her stories, my photos. This time…my photos first, and she wrote the story around them. I love it and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do…it’s one of my favorites so far.
I hope you notice the header on Tink’s page as THAT was the original challenge photo. A series of photos of Bridges. The photos in the story were inspired by Tink’s writing.
If you’ve not picked up the gauntlet and collaborated yet….do it! It’s G R E A T! So, without further adieu, “Bridges” by Dallas Dyson at Crazytraintotinkytown.
This is another of my collaborations with the stylish and very elegant Rhonda over at 50 Shades of Gray Hair. This one was more of a challenge for me as Rhonda supplied the pictures and I wrote the story around them. I have loved working with her and not only is she a great photographer and a perfectionist but a generous spirited soul too. So on behalf of myself and my team-mate we hope you enjoy it as much as we enjoyed putting it together.
I opened the letter with trembling hands; the one that I had been waiting weeks for. It had arrived in the morning post but I had crumpled it into my pocket and delayed reading it until my Mum had left for work. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to share it with her but I just didn’t want to feel guilty either.
It’s been over a year and a half since I’ve seen my grandson Alex, who turned 3 in April. I can think of nothing I’d rather do than share the next few days with you as we get reacquainted and fall in love all over again…
The first 200 miles Old Glory flies high and Gas prices do too 140 miles more before we leave the high cost of living in the Northeast behind…The layover at halfway Storm on the horizon Unwanted voyeurs One who is thankful for the break. 345 miles to go for sloppy kisses…Water, water, everywhere…and not a drop to drink! Oh…and a windmill, of course. 300 miles more to giant hugs from little armsTooling down the Blue Ridge Parkway headed for the home stretch Silos and Barns growing out of the Corn and oh…. Crackin’ the Barrel on every corner! 200 miles and we pop the top and pull the cork.The Kudzu Climbs The Gas Prices Fall And the Caverns are Cavernous 100 more to their front door.The first hello is always shy…but give him time, our little guy.Next thing you know they’re playing ball Basketball, football, soccer and all Running, shooting, fetching, “no fair!” I’m goin’ swimming…hop in gram, we’ll share.
So ends the first day…worth the trip and worth the heat.
Stay tuned for the next installment…getting down on the trampoline then popsicle parties and bubble magic.
I promised another tantalizing tale from Deb at Tinky Town…and here it is. Our second writer/photog collaboration! I highly recommend working with another blogger in this way – whether it’s choosing photos for a story or writing a story from a photo…it’s a fun and creative challenge. Here is “The Nanny”…
This is the second of my collaborations and my second with the lovely Rhonda over at Fifty Shades of Gray Hair and I think she’s possibly outdone herself this time! It has been a joy working with her on both projects and I have loved how each time I have given her a story she just creates these amazing pictures. So thank you Rhonda, you’re an inspiration!
Jen smiled indulgently across the breakfast table, over the heads of 6-year-old Jake and his sister 4-year-old Emily, at a bemused Richard, and mouthed “I love you”. Their secret smile that they saved for one another, and said that all was right with the world. Jen quickly set about clearing up the breakfast debris when Anna joined them – no matter how hard Jen tried, she just couldn’t warm to this woman. There was an air of detachment and aloofness about her that…
I’ve got a bone to pick and I’m gonna pick it clean.
Then I’m gonna give it to my DOG to finish off.
Yes.
My DOG.
The same one that shared this day with me eating mini ice cream sandwiches and snuggling together in the rear-end of a Jeep…
In the Vet’s parking lot…
Staring death in the face with a face full of vanilla and teeth full of chocolate cookie crust (his too.)…
Yeah, that one…Ripken, my beloved 10 year old B’Lab
The subject of my last post celebrating his life and mourning his demise.
Why?
Because my Vet is a douche…that’s why.
Okay, maybe not a douche.
How about insensitive, callous, money-grubbing, gotta pull in the bucks to justify my position as the newest Vet in this practice, A’hole?
Yeah, that’s better.
Here’s how it went down almost a month ago (I feel like I should put this to music like Harper Valley PTA or something):
Yearly check-up; three-year rabies shot; lyme vaccine; snap test
Vet says he looks good except…
I’m concerned about this growth, this tumor, in his right armpit
I’ve looked at his records, and I see he was here 6 months ago (for an intestinal problem) and this mass was not there
The fact that it grew so large, so fast, and seems tender to the touch tells me it’s something we need to be concerned with.
Normally, I’d say it’s just a fatty deposit, but not in this case. I believe we are looking at a malignancy here
ME: Can you give me an idea of how much I’m looking at to find out? Financially speaking, I need to know
I can certainly give you an estimate for how much it would be to do the pathology and remove the tumor, but subsequent treatment would be expensive
ME: OK, I’ll need that estimate before I make a decision
Of course
Estimate: $970 – (nothing specified about what the cost would be to treat the ‘cancer’)
ME: I hate that it comes down to money, but I can’t afford this
Oh I completely understand. Take some time to think about it and let me know
ME: Okay, but I know what my finances are…I can’t afford this
I completely understand, but just think about it and let me know. Take the time you need, but I don’t think you should wait too long
ME: Okay, I’ll think about what I can do, and I’ll talk to my family, but I can’t afford this only to find out it’s a cancer I can’t afford to have treated
Get to Vet’s office – packed beyond belief – had to park in another county practically – no sweat, more time to sit and snuggle and eat ice cream sandwiches with the Dude
Go into office at scheduled time, 5:30 pm, alone, to complete all paperwork and pay fee without Rip having to be in there
Told they are waaaay backed up, would I mind waiting?
Ummmm, yes, in fact I WOULD mind waiting. This is not the kind of appointment one wants to sit and ponder amonst the other four-legged beasts running around.
Told it would only be a moment then…they’d get a room ready right away. She returns within seconds telling me to go ahead and bring him in.
I do that. We go to the room. The Vet comes in…
Aw, and how’s old Ripken?
{I explained the last two weeks in detail)
Oh, so he’s not eating or drinking. Well, let’s have a look see what a treat does for him
{I watch as Ripken about tears the guy’s fingers off taking the treat. Maybe I should have warned him about Ripken and those biscuits}
Wow…I have to tell you, this dog is not telling me he’s ready to die. His breathing is a bit loud and labored, but that’s his age. But he’s active and took that treat well enough
{I look at him like he’s gone mental. Was he suggesting I was there to kill my dog for no reason?}
ME: No…YOU told me that and based on the last two weeks, I believed it. This is NOT the same behavior of the last two weeks {except the biscuits}
Now, really, I’m not concerned with that growth. I feel it’s just a fatty deposit and as your dog’s advocate, I must tell you that based on what I’m seeing here today, this is a healthy dog, and in good conscience, I can’t do what you are asking me to do
What I”M ASKING? Do you realize what your comments to me during our last visit did to me? And how those comments lead to my sitting here today, in this office, having spent the last 4 days beating myself up and grieving for him? Do you think I’m here to rid myself of a loved family member for financial reasons?
I’m only telling you that I can’t do what you came here to do in all good conscience because I feel he’s healthy and just showing his age
{By now, I’m about hysterical, but from anger…}
I am not leaving this office until you do whatever you have to do to prove this is NOT a cancerous tumor; tell me the cause of the last two weeks; and I AM NOT PAYING FOR IT. YOU ARE.
Of course. I will aspirate the mass and I’ll take a stool sample. If, you’ll hold him
{Just give me a biscuit dumbass}
Aspiration done, sample taken, Vet disappears, returns 15 minutes later…
I was correct. That mass is nothing to worry about, for now, it’s just fat
And the stool sample shows he’s loaded with bacteria, which I can treat, with medication. And this bacteria is absolutely the cause of his lack of appetite and lethargy. It’s common and treatable.
All I ask is that you give him a fair chance. Let him take the medication for a couple days. If there’s no improvement, we can revisit it.
What? A fair chance? You tell me my dog has a malignant tumor, tell me to make up my mind quickly, it’s only $970 to be on the safe side, and you tell ME to give him a fair chance? Give him pills for a couple days and then you’ll revisit killing him?
That’s all I’m asking. I can’t stop you from going through with this, but I can’t do it. I’ll not charge you for anything but the pills and I’ll only charge you what they cost me.
{Lord, get me away from this man before I BITE HIM}
Get me the pills, refund my prepaid murder for hire fee, and we’ll be gone.
He did and we were.
FOR FUCKING EVER!
My Dude…alive and well…despite modern medicine! When did Vets become like all the rest?
See Ma..all I needed was some ice cream and chocolate cookie stuff. Oh, and the biscuits…don’t forget the biscuits. 🙂
Our dogs; our friends; our playmates; our soulmates; our living examples of all God got right.
There have been dogs in my life as far back as I can remember. Dogs like Amos Manley Calhoon, (Manley for short) our 3 1/2 foot long, 1 1/2 foot high Basset Hound who had to have his ears pinned with a clothe’s pin lest he eat them with dinner or drown in his water bowl. And during times of winter snow, we’d only know where he was by the sound of his bowel-deep rooolf, rooolf. Or as the tip of his tail rose above the snow as he ran (waddled).
Then there was Bileau’s Cadeau Migneaux, (Min for short) our Miniature Poodle, who I’d swear could not have been more in love with another four-legged creature than she was with a two-legged one; my father, whom she’d marked as her own when just a puppy, by peeing on his chest while he lay on the couch watching TV. And as witnessed by anyone within view, when he’d pick her up at the end of the day so she could lay her head on his shoulder, roll her eyes lovingly up at him, and slowly and deliberately, slide her tongue up his cheek in long, slow kisses. These are two of many, but two especially loved for what they brought into our family and into our lives.
But this is for Ripken…our Black Labrador mix, who has been with us since his eighth week of life, more than 10 years ago, and who will see the end of his days on earth Wednesday. It’s never easy to witness the suffering of those we love, nor is it made easier by the fact that they have four legs instead of two. And the decision to end the suffering is always tempered with the notion that perhaps it is our own suffering we are hoping to ease by intervening and changing their natural path to the end. It isn’t, after all, for us to say “Now is your time”…yet we do. For them…and…for us.
So, to Ripken, I say thank you. For the years of unconditional love, the multitude of spontaneous moments of joy and laughter, and for feet that were warmed by you as you lay upon them in winter.
But mostly, for the lessons in loyalty, tolerance, and forgiveness, as only one with no guile could teach. For giving so freely, without question or condition, so much more than you ever asked for.
50 Shades of Gray Hair 
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