Monthly Archives: December 2012

Match Made in Heaven

 

Even on grey dismal rainy mornings I discover something joyful to focus on. Oh like waking up to dog kisses and wagging tail! My new canine companion is absolutely perfect. Not only is he doggone handsome he is also a gentleman. His manners are instinctive. Sit, stay, down, go potty, let’s play. Roush has decided that Papa my father in law is not nice. He showed his teeth out the car window and made his I dare you come any closer growl. His protective nature is one that I could only hope for from a rescue point of view. Some strays or orphans come along with nasty survival instincts or lack of attention habits. We fortunately lucked out with this orphaned mixed breed. Australian cattle cross with Pembroke Welsh Corgi. A great combination all 38.5 pounds of him. Not too big not too small. Smart as a whip. His only negatives are he doesn’t like the mailman, or care for little kids. He was mistreated by them in an unsupervised situation and therefore has decided he can live without them. Of course now that he has a loving stable forever home he can re-learn to accept family members one at time or in a caring environment where is doesn’t feel threatened. He has never bitten anyone which is good news. Although in the right circumstance say intruders break in when he is home alone he wouldn’t hesitate to use his teeth. Breakfast is before we leave, really early, so he is already sitting by the door in hopes there is a car ride about to happen. Not in the HHR. Not in a.m. traffic.  

Our day is spent rather kind of quiet, I am at my desk for a while so he naps. We take a potty break, then, begin chores. He tends to follow me around as if to say can I give you a hand sweeping up all those hairballs Memaw?

I will give him his milk bone and later half an apple and he gobbles that down in no time flat. If I am on the phone he hears Dadaw on speaker, he seems to think Dadaw is outside smoking and rushes to the patio to look for him. When Dadaw returns home two days later, Roush is overcome with excitement. Hugs, kisses, dancing, wrestling and general mayhem ensue. When its play time he pounces or rolls on his back all four paws in the air squirming around pretending to be big and bad. Dadaw happily obliges him. On the floor they play like too overgrown mutts and have a blast together. Then another nap. Weather permitting we play catch he rarely ever lets the ball bounce more than once and can jump up high to make sure it never hits the ground. He talks or barks making faces at the neighbor’s dog from across the cow field. With his left paw raised and crooked he will stop sniff and stare over the hayfields to check out what critters may be near. Roush doesn’t like to walk in the grass when it is raining. He does his business makes a beeline for the steps to avoid wet paws. The name Roush is a company that makes custom auto racing parts. Had we custom ordered our furry friend we could not have created one such as this. More over waiting as long as we did paid off, the right time, the right pooch, the right fit. WOOF! WOOF!

 

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Rescue Me

Rescue Me

 

Each new journal entry starts with three things I’m grateful for. This morning it was for the picturesque view out my front door. The sun was shining on the frozen tundra. The hay fields looked like crystalized threads. Icy sparkles shined so bright it hurt my pretty pale blue eyes. Landscape bling was created by our Father in Heaven and he is so artistic. He has the incredible way of capturing the light. Taking in all the frosty scenes had me mesmerized. For a moment I almost liked winter. When the melting drops hit me on the nose, then onto my camera from the roof edge, I was rudely reminded of the reasons why winter is my least favorite season. It’s cold. My already arthritic fingers were now too stiff to point and shoot. Blast. I will have to be content with these three shots and hope at least one preserves this fine morning. My refuge, a hot cup of joe, to wrap my aging digits around to melt youth back into them. Two of the shots were nice the other was dark. My next big project will be to catalogue over a thousand photos by year, then scan and download to discs. A tedious task, will surely use up one entire winter; gone. The question remains will it be this winter? I’m already three projects into it. One could be finished in less than an hour. Oh the conundrums we face. Journal notes rescue me from procrastination. I rescue myself out of do nothing to do something. I know one thing for sure; I’m instinctively motivated around others. My solo performances leave me dreadfully one dimensional. My designs are better developed if I play off another person’s energy. It feeds my creativity. Hard to ask the chair “What do you think of this color?” The sofa just sits there. The table never responds to my “Is it better with a boarder.” Well before you decide I need therapy for talking to my furniture, may I remind you home alone has a few flaws. Can one be flawed and brilliant at the same time? I am excited to go to the pound tomorrow. Picking the right pooch from the Humane Society has a triple fold purpose. First rescue an orphaned animal. Second bring four legged companionship back into my life. Third is for home protection, just knowing a dog can hear five times more than I is comforting. The barking may have the thieves second guessing this hit. I also see this new furry friend as my muse. My personal foot warmer may be able to choose colors decide on textures even provide inspiration during our walks and talks together. Who knows dog art might be exciting! Elephants can paint on canvas so there must be a medium for the creative canine. Whimsical whisker portraits. Random paw prints. Tall tail wagging abstracts. I can see the wheels of bizarre thoughts beginning. My cat’s tail is long and bushy. Could I dip it into cobalt blue mixed with hunter green; to sea what happens?  

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100 Years

One hundred years

 

Watching the day break and see the sun come up never loses its wonder, while driving I listened to the radio talk host with a sound byte for how many people who are 100 years or more. Currently in America there are 79 centenarians. Listed to date are 73 females and 5 males. According to the official register many more are undocumented. Super-centenarians are over 110 years. The woman interviewed talked about being 110 years old got me to thinking; how I have fared at 51? Privileges many have never experienced. One thing I know for sure is I have the hope of everlasting life. What will I speak of at 110 years of age?

In a humble matter of fact way she told of how she never drank or smoked, still drinks cow’s milk has had all her life. She spoke about being grateful happy and the only thing she really wanted was a dishwasher, she had never owned one. I wished I could go out and buy her a new dishwasher. No one knows how much time she has left. I certainly sensed she didn’t want to spend it with dishpan hands. She was sharp as a tack being candid about not having much interest in cooking; she liked to put in a roast so that the leftovers carried over at least three days before she has to cook again. I wondered, no family to cook a meal for her? No meals on wheels? No merry maids to clean her house? Lastly she said, I do really like doughnuts, they are so good. I eat a lot of doughnuts when I can. A few people have been so kind as to drop by and leave me doughnuts. I just love them she said sweetly. I questioned, why not bring more than doughnuts? Why not bring a whole meal? Ready for her next time you stop by with your crispy crèmes?

We don’t often hear people say they have carved out some time to volunteer. We hear them being in the middle of busy twenty four seven, no time to get back to basics. Commit random acts of kindness now and then. Hey even once a month would be good. How hard can it be? One hour less watching redundant TV. One less afternoon frittered away surfing the web or building an imaginary city. One less hour of random texts. This spry centenarian was born right around the time that the constitution was signed. She must have some fantastic stories to share. Shucks, her family tree has got to have a heck of a time line. One hundred years ago, people chopped wood carried water grew most their own food. A way of life so simple, yet so hard.

I know we tell ourselves our families, hubbies, kids, jobs, keep us crazy busy. Are you old enough to remember first hand when there were no remotes for your TV? Phones had cords and were stationary. You may be so young you don’t remember when there wasn’t 24 hour shopping. Many of us have memories that include raking the neighbor’s leaves without getting paid. Borrowing and returning a cup of sugar, making a pie for a widow (er) or casserole for a new neighbor. One hundred years ago neighbors worked willingly to help each other. Whatever happened to being face to face? Now it’s a daily dose of Facebook to connect.

Regardless of what generation you are from random acts of kindness never go out of style. These days giving is mostly centered on commercialized holidays. All too often caring for others is put on the back burner. Time spent on oneself. Take out at the fast food joints, needless shopping. So many have ignored their compassionate nature; their spirit of do unto others. Some old school folks still have that zeal, that fine example of better to give than receive. Ask yourself do you even know someone who could use an hour of your time or efforts? They don’t have to be 100 years old either. Are you a MCgiver or a MCtaker? Have you ever committed a random act of kindness? What would that look like? How would it make you feel?                        

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Operators

Back in the day telephone operators were women at the switchboards. Folks had party lines and the phone was better saved for really important news. One ringy dingy- two ringy dingy- the character played by Lilly Thomlin on the 70’s hit variety show humoursly depicts those times. The 21st century brought cell phones now palm sized. You can be hands free with a blue tooth curled around your ear. Does this mean telephone operators are out of work? No, it means large corporations hire for pennies on the dollar around the clock, keeping us busy answering up to 140 calls a day. As a phone operators better known as call center customer care representative (CSR). Cell phones are the tool of choice; you can call your mom, dad, hairstylist or BFF anytime. You can text, LOL. Send pictures download images, tunes or apps. As hardworking public servants we ask that you learn telephone etiquette 101. Here are the dos and don’ts.

Do use your manners at all times, humans respond favorably to kindness. We are not the ones who neither ruined your day, your life nor made the policies.

Don’t talk with your mouth full of food or foul language. We can’t make sense of what you are trying to convey.

Do not call from the porcelain goddess while you are inquiring about your account. The tiny microphone picks up every sound. Some things are not to be   shared.

Do have important information pen & paper ready. We need to verify who you are with your account number, SSI #, or date of birth; your mother’s maiden name isn’t Susan, Daisy Mae or Mrs. Jones.

Do turn off the TV, stereo, Xbox, quiet the dog, screaming kids, leave the restaurant and find a quiet spot so we don’t have to repeat ourselves. We have 4 minutes per call.

Do not order your big mac pay for your groceries while trying to find out why your account is overdrawn. Just because your debit cards swipes doesn’t mean you have money. There are no fee waiver courtesies.

Keep in mind that we enjoy being customer care reps. we genuinely strive on helping others. We are not trained in miracles. We cannot turn back time, nor do we have crystal balls. We do implore you not to call us while you are driving it is so illegal never mind the danger~!

THANK YOU FOR CALLING HAVE A NICE DAY!

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Knowing

120816_003_2   ” You really don’t know woman until you have received a letter from her.”

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Black and White

Black and White

 When my son was younger he often asked me to tell him stories of when I was a kid back in the black and white days. I had many to draw upon. Through my child’s eyes the olden days were all black and white for me they are in vivid color. My earliest memory is being about two years old all zipped up in my blue snow suit with the little yellow mittens strung around my neck. Walking was still new and oh so hard to do, with tights then socks wool sweaters wrapped like a mummy. The snow banks reached up to the sky, and I was bound to get to the top. Having gotten here my glory was short-lived for it’s at that moment the soft powder caved with me landing on my back looking up at the bright blue sky. Unable to move, partially entombed in the snow bank I decided there would be no rescue. Dad was at work, mom was with my new baby sister. My mind does not recall the rest of the story; obviously I figured out how to save myself.  My adventurous spirit has led me atop many of steep banks; I have survived a thousand rescues; so many stories so little time. My large storehouse of photos supply images of the way we lived the people in it. In the rearview mirror I long for times when things were much less complicated. Not very often did my family buy fast food, once in a while we were treated to the Dog n Suds, a burger joint which we thoroughly enjoyed. The fried hot dogs, the frothy root beer in a mug and don’t forget the crinkle cut fries with brown gravy. Same goes for other outings, they were special. As youngsters our manners were impeccable. It never donned on my sisters or I to act out speak out of turn or heaven forbid cause a scene of any kind. We were products of the seen and not heard teachings.

 My biggest pet peeve; in today’s times, in stores or restaurants many kids are crying screaming or throwing a fit for one thing or another. The parents like wise. Folks go to the store in their poorly fitting pj’s silly slippers uncombed hair and think it’s some sort of fashion statement. I suppose off handedly it is saying I don’t care about myself or anyone else. Just check out the Wal-Mart website there you will see graphic details of those of which I speak. My mom baked bread until I was 13 and canning was just something we did. Thank you notes were written often, a good old fashion letter was the norm. We went to school with a ton of respect and the dress code was enforced. It never hurt us one bit to take care in what we wore, no holes in your pants or underwear showing. Class photos detail the clean-cut straight shouldered days of yester year. All us baby boomers are now or headed towards being seniors, when we leave we are taking the black and white days with us. I wish my grandparents were here to supply me with some more stories. More historical events more time-honored traditions. I will pen the ones my mom, aunt and uncle still recall. I will be the story teller. Passing on the details of the simple lifestyle they lived. Glean from them lessons learned. My notes will be on my pc and I will cut and paste until I am happy with the results, and yes it does beat out pen and paper. So on some small level, I like progress. I do love that we can Skype to our loved ones or do business efficiently. I do like zip drives and compact discs. That said I am the first one to shut off the TV, make some tea and regale you in days gone by. Aware of my carbon footprint, continue to recycle reuse and renew. Work for sustainability, for our grandkids.

Embrace these times from a slower pace, smell the roses, and count my blessings.  

Twenty five years later my son reminds me that I’ve told him my adventures several times over of my life from the black and white days

 

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Hello world!

Welcome to WordPress.com!  Several attempts to find a good blog site. Hence I should be good at it by now.  My plans are to establish

myself comfortably with a site that allows me to make changes easily, allows for easy access not overly complicated. So here goes.

Welcome to my blog ~ page.  Come on in, relax, enjoy the views, or chat awhile.   Make your day a great one.♥

 

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