Thursday, October 30, 2008

I can't make this stuff up

this picture has nothing to do with the post, I just liked it.

It's starting to get chilly here, finally. Before it gets too cold, I wanted to take my black Lab, Gus, to the lake. He absolutely loves to swim. So I gather the needed accoutrement's; treat sack, tennis ball, training buoy, and mace. And of course, my camera, which I never leave home without.

Silas and I leave the house and head toward the lake. Gus is off leash walking beside us. We live in a very rural area. Rural as in dirt roads, few neighbors, and lots of wildlife, hence the mace. I also live in an area in which it is actually possible to leave the house and have to walk uphill BOTH ways to get back home. Oh, the joys of living on a mountain and near a river.

The lake is approximately a mile from my house. Through the woods and down a series of dirt roads. When we get there, Gus immediately goes for the water, of course.

After about a half hour of swimming after tennis balls and buoys, he starts acting peculiar. He starts circling Silas and I, trying to herd us toward the water. Apparently, he thinks we're his sheep. He paces around the shore line and whines a bit. I try another throw to see if he'll be distracted from whatever has him upset. He doesn't even glance toward the splash. At this point my genius IQ kicks in and I think "hey, maybe we should leave. There's something here he doesn't like". I'm brilliant, poppets, I tell ya.

I gather our things and try to convince Silas we should leave. He's used to spending at least two hours at the lake so he was a bit peeved. He has this whole complicated routine that involves the gathering of sticks, digging of channels and building of dams that occurs at a precise place by the same stand of reeds each time we go. He was not pleased to have to shut down his jobsite early. I believe OSHA may have been called. By this point Gus was whining loudly and staring across the lake. He was in the point position (straight line nose to tail with one paw raised) toward this stand of reeds across the lake: (the road I have to take back home runs right behind this)

The dog's distress is becoming more visible by the second. His hackles are standing up and he's baring his teeth. I'm beginning to feel the first tendrils of fear. I'm out here alone save for this dog and my child, with no means to protect any of us. Sure I have the mace, but that's mainly for if a dog would charge Silas. Do you know how close you have to be to mace something? Too close for comfort.

I grab Silas' hand and haul him up. We take off like our hair was on fire and our asses was catchin'. * Gus keeps close behind all the while growling that deep rumble that lets everyone know he's serious. When I get around the bend I hear rustling and movement in the trees. We are now behind the spot that Gus was pointing toward. This is what he was trying to alert me to:

In case you can't tell, that's a BEAR! I know it's a crappy picture, but you try taking a picture while you're running backwards up a hill. I know you can't tell, but there were actually two bears. If you look toward the left of the one you can see, there's a reflection from the other one's eye.

Now this bear didn't really frighten me. He was a little guy and he's just trying to fatten up for winter. What frightened me is that I didn't know where momma bear was. And I know she wasn't far. All I could do was hope that she was in the woods and that we wouldn't run into her on the road. If we were to run into her on the road, I could hope that Gus would hold her off until I could get Silas away. Neither option was preferable.

We proceeded in an orderly manner away from the bear towards home. I tried not to upset Silas anymore than necessary to make him understand to HURRY! But don't run! I don't want him to be afraid of the woods or to be outside. At the same time, I don't want him to think it's ok to approach a bear in the wild like it's Yogi.

We made it home fine, a little shaken but not stirred. And I have bought an air horn for our next jaunt into the woods. And a big stick. And a tranquilizer gun.

*10 points for whoever can name the song that line came from

Tuesday, October 21, 2008

I'm not above using my feminine wiles

I was motoring down the road, minding my own business. Silas, still but a wee babe, was asleep in his carseat. I was approaching a stop light which had just turned yellow. We all know that yellow means "gun it!", so I sped through. Apparently, I hadn't sped quite fast enough. Lights and sirens in the mirror. I was stone cold busted, yo.

The officer comes to the window and takes my license and registration. He asks if I know why he pulled me over. Why? Why do they ask this? Are they hoping we'll confess to something they didn't notice? "Geez officer, I guess you pulled me over because of the twenty six kilos of black tar heroin in my spare tire, right?" I mean, really. So I give my stock answer (I get pulled over alot) which is "I'm sure you're going to tell me". So we go through the song and dance where he tells me that I ran the light, I pretend to be sorry, and he says he'll be right back. While waiting for him to finish whatever cop-ish things it is they do back in their car, I remembered that I had gotten a ticket in Virginia several months before. Then I had that moment. The one where the hot flash of "oh shit" runs straight through your heart. I never paid that ticket. *gulp*

Had it been long enough that they'd suspended my license? I didn't know. Then I saw him get out of the car. And reach around to get his handcuffs. Yep. It had been long enough. Thinking quick, I waited for him to approach the window again. He told me that there was a problem with my license and that I needed to step out of the vehicle. I asked what the problem was. He said that my license to drive in Virginia had been suspended and that my vehicle would be impounded. He said that I was welcome to call someone to pick me up, but that I would be left on the side of the road. (He didn't know that there was a baby in the truck at this point.)

Putting on my best indignant outraged persona, I assured him that I would never have let my license be suspended! The impudence that he would even suggest a thing is beyond insulting. I strongly suggested that he check again and make sure that if, in the unlikely event, this had actually occurred, that I had been properly notified of such suspension and that there was proof of such notification. Because I lived in a different state and if there wasn't proof...blah blah blahbitty blah. Basically I made a general ass of myself to buy a few minutes.

It worked and he went back to his cruiser. (I cannot say cruiser without thinking of Bruiser from Sha Na Na.) While he was reporting back to the station about what a pompous ass I was, I pulled Silas out of his car seat and woke him up. I know, reprehensible. BUT! I had a plan. I pulled up my shirt, ripped down my bra and freed the mammaries of magnificence! I covered one side with a blanket, but made sure to leave enough of the other exposed to make it clear what I was doing. When he came back, I rolled the window down and looked at him expectantly. Like I just knew he had cleared this whole misunderstanding up. He started to tell me that procedure had been followed and that WHOA! Wait a minute! Is that a breast?! And a baby??

He turned ten shades of red and stammered so much I couldn't make out the rest of the sentence. After taking a minute to compose himself, he informed me that yes, procedure had been followed and he was well within the law to impound my vehicle. (I'm sitting there making doe eyes at him with my breasts hanging out feeding a baby on the side of the road.) But, since there may have been extenuating circumstances because of my living out of state, I was free to go but make sure to get that taken care of, ok now ma'am? (He hasn't even looked toward the vehicle once during this spiel) He hems and haws a bit more and finally tells me to be on my way, "after yer done there, a'course".

So yes, I exploited my baby and my breasts. And I'd probably do it again if I thought it would get me out trouble. (Gloria Ste!nems head just exploded)

Monday, October 20, 2008

I'm fairly sure there's a felony in here somewhere

This is what I discovered when I opened the trunk of SweetieDarling's car this morning. Twenty stolen campaign signs. And a traffic cone. And some caution tape. (I'm keeping my eyes peeled for the coppers. They'll surely be here any minute.) I shudder to contemplate what this stash means to the fate of humankind as we know it.

Upon being queried as to exactly why she was in possession of these items, I was told that she and her minions went on a scavenger hunt of sorts. They've all decided that they are fresh, shiny democrats and took it upon themselves to rid the world of the scourge of the republicans. To the extent of stealing campaign signs until they tired of it and found something better to do, the details of which I'm certain I'm better off not knowing. I promptly gathered the offending parties, and, in true law school style, delivered a mind numbingly boring scintillating lecture on the perils and ramifications of impeding a campaign, the majority of which I made up on the spot. The ramifications of being caught impeding a campaign by SweetieDarling's mother include:

a) having to replace all of the stolen signs, with an apology;

b) having to join me at the democratic headquarters of our county to learn how to support a campaign and candidate appropriately (and legally).

While I'm not Ms. Popularity at the moment, I hope at least one thing will remain with them. No matter who you support, you don't build your candidate up by tearing the other one (or their signs) down.

But really, how long can you stay mad at someone who has this sticker on their dash?

Sunday, October 19, 2008

Pumpkins & cider & hayrides. It's Fall!

Finally! I didn't think it would ever really feel like fall. It's still been hot during the day and only cooling off a little at night. Today was the first day cold enough for a jacket, and now that it's night it's cold enough to turn the heat on.

Silas had his fall field trip with his school on Friday. It hadn't cooled off yet so we were all in shorts and tees. It just doesn't feel right being at the pumpkin patch in shorts. Wah wah, boo hoo. If it was freezing, I'd complain about that too. He had a great time and we were both worn out at the end of the day.

I was trying to apply some of the techniques I learned in photography class over the course of the day. Actually doing it is a little harder than learning it, but I tried. I didn't do too bad for a point and shoot camera. I'm hoping Santa puts a dslr in my stocking.

And how's this for a random picture? This is painted on a concrete tower down by the river. It's just not what you'd expect to see amid all the graffitti and tags.

Of course, anyone who likes Johnny Cash is ok with me, vandal or not.

Thursday, October 16, 2008

I should have been a dentist

SweetieDarling has been suffering for days with a toothache. She finally decided to tell me about it two days ago. I sent her to the dentist hoping she could get a filling and be done with it. Oh no. No no no. Couldn't be that simple. She needs a root canal and a crown. Or she must have the tooth extracted. Now, I know we live in West by gawd Virginia, but I cannot have my 18 year old daughter running around missing a tooth. Even if it is one in the way back that wouldn't affect her beautiful smile.

So she's referred to an oral surgeon who specializes in these things. Do you know how much a root canal costs? Well sit down, because you're about to be shocked. $985!!!!! Do you believe that? That's ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS!!!! I was absolutely gobsmacked!!!! I hope I don't run out of exclamation points!!! Because then how would you know how dismayed I am?!!

When I set up the appointment for the xrays, I asked the scheduler if piercings were a problem. See poppets, my SweetieDarling, she's a bit of a goth child. You know the ones, black hair, eyeliner, nailpolish, lipstick. So many piercings they look like they fell face first into the tackle box. The ones you either point at or run away from at the mall? That's my girl. And I didn't want her to go for the xray and all that metal in her head melt together and fuse into some kind of terminator/robo cop hybrid mask. Apparently, since the rays are centered onto the tooth only, it doesn't matter.

It's a good thing her mouth is sore and she can't chew. After paying for this, there won't be food around here for the rest of the month.

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

I should've thought this through

The luscious BonBon has declared today to be Out your Tivo Day. After agreeing to do it and then coming in here and turning on my Tivo, I'm having second thoughts. Whatever will you think of me? How will I hold my head up in polite company? Oh well, here goes: Oh wait, you should know that this is MY tivo. Mine only. I have put a password on it after the great Lost deletion debacle of aught 7, so no one has access to it but moi. I do occasionally record something for Silas, although grudgingly. Behold:

Dr. Phil, 10 episodes (will probably watch 3 of them)
The Ellen DeGeneres Show, 5 (haven't watched at all this season)
House 3 (What?? How did I forget House? I'll finish this after I watch them)
Desperate Housewives 1 (Good Lord, my mind is a sieve. I didn't know I'd missed this either!)
The Graham Norton Show, 25 episodes (Shut up. He makes me laugh every time I watch. And the American stars he has on are always shocked at how different European tv is, esp. when he asks really crude questions)
Survivor, 1 (kinda meh on this season so far, although Ace is hawt)
Star Stories, 2 (hilarious spoof of stars on BBC)
Eddie Izzard
George Carlin's last 5 HBO specials
and the last 5 episodes of Lost from last season.

There you have it. For someone who claims not to watch much tv, I believe my delusions have been shattered. Be kind.

Monday, October 13, 2008

Wendy? Yes, Lisa...

If you're a rabid Prince fan, you know from whence the title comes. If you're not, obviously you live under a rock and I can't fathom how you even have internet access to be reading this. Oh, come back here. I was kidding. I know he's not to everyones' taste.

I have been obsessed with Prince since 1982. For those of us who are math impaired, that's um, uh, carry the two, subtract.... oh, it's a hella long time. For the record, I was a fan long before Purple Rain. I had all of his albums. As in vinyl. See poppets, before we had these fancy ipods, there used to be these things called cassettes. Before cassettes, there were these flat, black vinyl discs that played music using a needle. I owned these vinyl discs. For one purpose. The purpose was to hang the album covers all over my bedroom. For listening, I purchased the cassettes. I couldn't play albums in my car now could I? It's all about the cool factor.

So I have Prince album art and posters all over my bedroom walls. Much to my parents dismay. Instead of liking some wholesome cutie I worship the guy who sings "jack u off" and "Do Me Baby". Here's a sample of what one was subjected to upon entering my shrine:

See Prince's hair in the bottom pic? I had a feminine version of that haircut. Oh yes, yes I did. And I rocked it. Sadly, there are no pictures from this era. I had the foresight to destroy any photographic evidence that could be used as blackmail in the future.

If you really want to get people fired up? Pose this question to some musically inclined friends:

"Who would win a guitar off between Prince and Eric Clapton?"
You think the Obama McCain debate gets heated? You ain't seen nothing yet. If you really want someones head to explode, throw Stevie Ray Vaughn in there too. And then run for cover.

Or hop in your Little Red Corvette for a ride down Alphabet Street. We'll sit Under the Cherry Moon until it starts to Purple Rain. For some Controversy, we'll party like it's 1999. (and did he call it right with that song or what? Did we all not think for sure the world was gonna end at midnight 1999? Or at least all of our computers crash, which is totally the same thing).

Tuesday, October 7, 2008

I has motivations

Guess what? (chicken butt) Remember all the stuff I was boo hooin' about a couple of posts ago? The stuff that I start and never finish? Of course you do. I know you studiously study and take notes on every aspect of my fascinating and titillating existence. Well, I guess admitting my laziness triggered some modicum of shame in my poor battered psyche and girlfriends' done got some shiz done! Yes I have.

I have finished! one page of Silas' scrapbook. The tennis page is done and I've started on the swimming page. And I hope you're happy, I went to Michael's today and spent a bazillion $$ on stuff to do pages for the dogs. This could be showing signs of becoming a full fledged addiction. Please keep me in check.

I programmed speed dials into my crackberry and downloaded my google calendar. I know! There's no stopping me!

I installed the Family Tree Maker software on my laptop and transferred all of my information. I made quite a bit of progress on Sams' side as well. Plus I saw "Heritage" scrapbook stuff and had quite the brainstorm. For Christmas I'll make family tree scrapbooks for the parents and grandparents! Score! Little money, lots of sentimental value.

No progress on the picture organization yet, but I have been taking hundreds for my photography class. Hopefully I'll get those uploaded and ready to torment entertain you with soon. You know, like when you go to someones house and they have you trapped and show you home movies of their vacation. Entertained like that.

Now I wonder. If I confess that I never made it to the kitchen in my spring cleaning, would that inspire me to get that done? Naaah. Better not press my luck.

Thursday, October 2, 2008

A Tragedy of Unspeakable Horror

Not really. I'm very dramatic. But it was tragic, none the less.

Would you consider this the face of a vicious killer? A terrible monster capable of horrendous acts? No? Neither did I. Until this:

(pretend there is a picture of a horribly mangled and dismembered laptop cord here. Humor me, the picture won't load)

Yes. That is the power cord to my laptop. Otherwise known as my lifeline. My connection to the internetz. And it died a horrible and lonely death in the jaws of that beast. *sniff* It was so young. So innocent. So much life left in it. I was trying to be nice and kind and help a poor scared puppy and it was sacrificed in the face of my selflessness. It was a very stormy night. Yes, thunderstorms in October, I know. The pup was scared senseless in her crate, so out of the kindness of my heart I let her sleep in the bedroom.

I'm passed out from xanax sleeping soundly when I hear this cacophonous yelping and whimpering. I jump out of bed to see the dog with my power cord hanging out of her jaws, getting herself a good shock. I debated letting her keep getting shocked for a while, but I thought that might fry my laptop, which was hooked up and charging. So I pulled the plug, and the pup disappeared under the bed. Smart move on her part. She knows I'm too old and fat to go under there after her, so I contented myself with stomping around grousing about how I'm certainly not paying $150 for a new cord because it wasn't my stupid dog that ate this one and somebody best be ordering me a new one toot suite.

After f-f-f-four d-d-days without my sweet elixir of life I'm so far into withdrawal I'm imagining bugs under my skin and hallucinating the UPS guy on the porch. When he finally did show up, I practically attacked him. And hot as he is, all I wanted was his package. Not that package, freak, my cord. So now I have it and all is right with the world once again. Me and my internetz are together and we all lived happily ever after. The end.

ps. this post about the Dude wrecking the car? Absolute truth, swear to Dog. Will send pictures of scars if requested.