Ahhh.
The music of Lerner and Loewe.
Remember? “My Fair Lady“?
Can ya hear it? (hint – click on my song of the week and you will)
Well, this is my version…not music to the ears, but hopefully music to the eyes.
~♥~Happy Fall my friends ~♥~
(and as always…a click on the image for the full view)
If both ‘My Fair Camera’ and the weather continue cooperating…tomorrow I may venture out and end up…
Keep an eye out will ya?
I take cream and a touch of sugar in my coffee…
♥
Thunder claps.
The only alarm that ever could, wake me.
I could sleep (provided I am sleeping) through the most annoying man-made alarm out there.
But give me a good clap of thunder and awake, out of bed, and standing at the wide-open front door I am.
In a flash.
One thing I do not do is waste a good thunderstorm.
Even as we speak, the noise rolls across the sky; it sounds miles away before it fades.
Lightning on its tail.
One, two, three…you know the drill.
I don’t question this fascination and love (yup, love) of the great God of Thunder.
It just is, and always has been.
A family tradition even.
As a teen, I recall being on the front porch with my father and one of my brothers during a storm.
It was e l e c t r i c !!
The porch was long, flat, ground level, and concrete.
The rain was coming so fast the ground could not absorb it fast enough.
The puddles began to form on this electrifying porch, during this electrifying storm.
One sound I recall hearing on that particular evening was a clap so loud I had to cover my ears while I shouted my delight.
The sound that followed was as loud a boom as any you’d hear on the fourth of July.
Drawing not the oohs and ahs of appreciation. No.
But screams, yelps, and moans of the three of us on the porch.
The only thing louder was primal screams as my Mother ran out of the house onto the porch seconds after the sound that woke the devil and the moans that followed.
Some noise came from the direction where my brother had sat in an aluminum lawn chair.
A chair which now lay on its side, empty, in the puddle that had formed under it.
He was now flat on the ground, still shocked.
The other chair’s occupant, my Father, came out of his like his ass was on fire, releasing a sound no one would mistake as an exclamation of happy surprise.
For myself, I danced the dance of the mouse in an electrified cage, as I was standing barefoot in my puddle of what began strictly as rain before I added my own brand of yellow dew drops.
The porch had become my own Skinner Box.
The humming inside my head so loud it’s a wonder I heard anything else at all.
Confused, being pushed and pulled, seemingly in all directions at once, we finally managed to get inside.
A lesson – One for a lifetime.
Go inside, close the windows, pull the shades, hide under the bed during a thunderstorm?
Hell no…
Don’t use aluminum lawn chairs or stand in puddles barefooted on a flat, ground level, concrete porch of course!
Now please excuse while I return to the chair I’ve placed center stage to enjoy the show.
A chair made of wood, on dry ground, INSIDE.
😯
Two steps forward
One step back
Why ask why?
It does no good
For every day of sun…
There are two of clouds
There’s a lesson here
I know there is
An opportunity to learn
To grow
But when is it okay to say enough?
No more school
I’m tired of school
School of life; school of love; school of fish…
It’s all the same
Two steps forward
One Step back
When we are close to the edge, trying our best
Little things become more than little things
They become
Bigger than we can deal with in any given day
On tHaT day
When is it okay to say
Enough?
Just
Enough!
Ever?
Wishful thinking?
Testing faith?
Thinking we are more important than we are?
Don’t know
Don’t care
E n O u G h
Tired of the tears
Tired of snot running down my face
Tired of feeling life is bigger than I am…
e N o U g H
Pretending is a ten letter word disguised as a four letter one
Take your pick
Fuck…Shit…Hell…Damn…
E N O U G H
Losing a marriage
Losing love
Finding love
Losing love
Losing love again
Finding love
Losing sight
Losing perspective
Losing…
Gaining should be the thing
And would be…
BuT
ENOUGH
Of the one step forward and two steps back
ENOUGH
Of the two steps forward one step back
Just
Fucking God…Enough
What the heck does that mean?
Just this:
I’ve become (dun dun dun)
A PIT-BULL – WOOF!
Now I actually know what that really means.
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 E x H a U s T e D
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
more more more!
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!
Oh…and did I tell you I have real estate agents?
😆
At least I HOPE I still do…oy what they must think of me!
Thanks for indulging though, now it’s time to go feed the dog!
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 Journey:
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 absolutely hate staring at this blank page when what I see staring back is, well, a blank page and my mind is also, a blankity blank.
Makes me feel sluggish.
So…naturally, when that happens, I go looking for that day’s alter ego.
And as luck would have it, I found it, or rather, it found me.
We shared some quality wine-time (before it got drunk and the mosquitoes showed up and ruined our party)
Too bad it ended so early because I was quite enthralled with these tales of a slug’s life.
Admittedly though, a tad runny at the mouth. Ewww.
Oh excuse my manners…I’ll introduce you.
Everybody? Meet my new friend.
If I tell you its name, I’ll ruin the lesson, so new friend will do for now:
What I learned during our luscious liquid lunch interested me enough to want to share it with you.
So, if you’ll allow, the slug‘s life lesson begins.
🙂
Did you know, that in addition to being a major part of his mobility requirements, his slime is actually a defense mechanism?
Yeah, I mean, who the hell wants to eat something that gross?
Nothing it seems. Smart little cuss.
And…as luck (? you’ll see) would have it
(kids, cover your eyes..this is for mommy and daddy)
it’s also a huge part of their (shhhh) sex life.
I KNOW!
Imagine?
(Okay, here’s where the third glass is starting to take affect. He fell off his perch mid-sentence and landed on the table; like a cat; feet first!
(that’s a joke…their whole body is one giant foot really)
To continue…
Of course, we humans secrete our own slime of a sort (well…we do!) but it’s nothing compared to these love bugs.
Slugg-ette drops chemicals into her slime letting Slugg-O know she’s ready.
Months go by…haha, not really but imagine how LONG it takes ol’ Slugg-O to mosey on over?
You might think sweet little Slugg-ette would get sick of waiting…but to hear my new friend tell it…
Slugg-O is packin’ heat and proud of it!
(So the signs on the garden wall are TRUE! Call 1-900-worththewait for a slimy good time!)
His slugg-o-schlong is HALF the size of his body!
!
!
!
Ahem…sorry, was daydreaming.
Anyway, Slugg-ette is staying put! She’s in for the loooong haul.
Once they do manage to mingle, their foreplay can last for hours!
(No surprise there, after waiting all that time? what’s the friggin rush)
But what IS surprising is these little rascals are into…
(kids? still covered? good)
K-I-N-K!
Absolutely!
Biting, tail lashing, licking up each others goo….Grrrrrrross!
But hey, whatever flexes your hose right?
Another interesting fact…and this is why I didn’t give you my new friend’s name…
Because Slugg-ette is Slugg-O and Slugg-O is Slugg-ette, if ya catch my drift.
Yeah, so I’ll call him/her Slugg-ett-O
(anyone else hearing Pinocchio music?)
What this means is that they are both hes and they are both shes and they can BOTH get preggers at the same time for gawd’s sake!
(My head just exploded. Who’s your Daddy? Baby Mama? I’m so confused!)
But all is not wine and roses for these poor dude(ttes).
Sometimes, when they are done with the fun, their fun parts aren’t having any fun a’tal.
Why? Because their schlugg schlongs can get stuck in their own goo!
And as it hardens mid wham-bam thank ya man/am, before ya know it?
SUPER GOO-ED.
Gulp…and the only way out? Can ya guess?
Don’t – it’s a gawd awful picture.
I’ll just tell ya.
One gnaws off the other’s ‘peter piper picked the wrong place to get stuck’.
Yup…the slug version of Bobbittized!
But don’t cry for them Argentina (salt’s bad for them anyway).
Shed no salty tears, all is not as it appears.
Not only is it not fatal to the one who happened to get stuck in the prickle jar…it’s a whole new life!
Basically, your garden variety transgender operation.
Nature amazes doesn’t it?
Seems the dearly depetered goes off to live a normal, happy, Slugg-ett-O life as strictly a female.
A whole new slug. Slugg-ette for ever and ever.
Cool huh?
That’s all we had time for during our first meet and greet; the bugs were bitin’ and Slugg-ett-O
(yeah, I asked…was still packin’)
was obviously slime-faced!
But here’s his parting shot, and if I do say, not a bad looking she-fellow when you get to know her/im
See ya ’round…ya ol’ slimeball! 🙂
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.
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
Stopped eating
Stopped drinking
Lethargic
Acute diarrhea (sorry, but it does sound better than the runs)
I was out of town, get a call from my parents that the dog is sick
Not eating still so I boil hamburger and rice – nothing
Not eating so I notch it up to chicken and rice – not much improvement
Only think I can get him to eat are his biscuits…the dog effin’ loves those biscuits
Still not drinking
Still with the D-word adding in that straining would be an understatement
This can’t go on, he’s suffering, I can’t afford to see this through, I need to call the Vet tomorrow
Appointment made for Wednesday for euthanasia based on information known at the time
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?
50 Shades of Gray Hair 
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