Tooth of the Dog

Seriously... don't his teeth look good?

Jack's been feeling a little rough the last few weeks with mysterious swollen glands and a bit of a fever so when he rolled over on his back for a belly rub and flashed me a toothy grin, I had to get a picture!  I'm so glad he's getting better!!  And he's acting more like his normal goofy self every day now.

Along the same timeline, I've been thinking that Lightning, Jack, and Gizmo all have pretty decent smelling breath and their teeth are looking a lot cleaner and whiter.  Gazing at Jack's picture got me thinking about it and wondering why.  That makes it sound like I think it's a bad thing...  And nothing could be less true.  Clean teeth are wonderful!  Just a bit of a surprise because they were getting kind of gunked up and I've been dreading the lecture next time we get to a vet.  Turns out I'm accidentally doing something right - the boys' favorite bedtime treat.

Just about every night before turning the lights out we share an APPLE.

Sometimes two.

The fleshy part of an apple contains a good bit of malic acid that helps dissolve the plaque and tartar on their teeth.  (Pick the seeds out or cut away the core - the seeds have an arsenic-like toxin in them that you shouldn't give to your dog.)  Other fresh fruits and vegetables help them have pretty smiles, too.  Carrots and celery were especially noted.  Carrots for the scraping crunch and celery because the strings act a bit like dental floss.  Well, who loves their fruits and veggies?  Yup.  That'd be my boys!

Gizmo isn't as much a fan of green vegetables or big pieces of carrot, but Lightning and Jack will eat anything I hold down for them.  So they get fresh carrots and chunks of celery now and then.  And pears, melon, corn on the cob (I hold it, they bite the kernels off), green beans, snow peas, cabbage, broccoli, cucumbers, peaches, plums, blueberries, strawberries, bananas... Lightning even likes lettuce, oranges, and tomatoes.  I'm thinking he'll be hard on that future garden and orchard!

Weird things for a dog to eat, huh?

But so healthy!

2017 in Review

As 2018 is about to get itself underway, I find I’m still an accidental resident of Mount Savage, MD.  Accidental in that I never intended to be here and then when I found myself here, it was only supposed to be for a few days. That was just over a year ago.  My neighbors include a couple of giant raccoons, a fearless Momma possum, some rogue deer, and judging from the scratch marks on the deck… a black bear that wants to be a whole lot more friendly than makes me comfortable.  There’s an assortment of dogs and cats and even some humans, too.  I’ve managed to meet a few of them, even some of the people, this past year and one person, Barbara, has transformed from possibly the most negative and prickly woman I’ve ever met into a true and faithful friend.

I’ve only begun to explore my habitat but already found that Mount Savage is one of those historically significant places that no one’s ever really heard about.  Through the convergence of location and natural resource availability, it became a center of industry in the late 1800s and has fame for rolling the steel for the first railroad track ever produced in the United States. It was also a company-owned town for a time when the clay taken from the surrounding mountains produced a uniquely high-quality brick that’s still prized by collectors and those doing period-correct property restorations.  One day I want to find out more and go take some photos of the old brick ovens. I also want to check out the museum now housed in the town’s original one-cell jail built specifically to provide drunks a safe place to sleep it off.

One of the things that kept me from exploring was an accident early in the year where I badly injured my right shoulder. That ‘grounded’ me for several months. With Jack’s efforts as nursemaid, support brace, heating pad, exercise machine, and 24/7 comforter, the breaks and tears and nerve damage of a total dislocation are probably about as healed as they’re ever going to get now and it’s mostly ok.  There are some activities it inhibits, though… Like crocheting and cooking and cutting the dog’s toenails.  Those have become decidedly short-duration undertakings due to the numb fingers they trigger.  I also had to take time off school because I couldn’t get my hand up to the computer keyboard to post in discussions and write all those papers but I’m back at it now and making progress.  A few days ago I had that breakthrough moment where I actually felt competent talking Psychology and that this might be a real viable career choice for my last shot at that sort of stuff.  That was an awesome feeling!

The most exotic place I’ve been this whole year is the County dump.  It’s a unique arrangement here where you have to stop along the way at a specific Payless Drug and buy stickers to put on your trash bags.  They are $1 each and every bag needs one.  If you arrive on site without them, you’ll be ushered the 7-ish miles halfway back to town, or about the same distance on out the road to a different store in another town, to get them.  Just ask me how I know this…

I’m still being a culinary adventurer.  This year’s ‘new to me’ winner foods include quince, Sugar cakes, and Apple Pan Dowdy.  Quince is a fruit that resembles a yellow apple but has a much more perfume-like scent and taste.  I understand (now) that it’s meant to be cooked but when I found some at the grocery store I just bought one to taste and me and the boys ate it raw. I’m intrigued enough to put it in the orchard I’m imagining for my someday place… and Lightning, my resident foodie, found it delicious.  Sugar Cakes are huge, pillowy, cake-like sugar cookies.  Imagine a Lofthouse cookie and a homemade yellow cake had a round pale-faced baby… and you’re sort of close.  They can be frosted when cooled or just sprinkled with a little sugar prior to baking.  Oh, they are yummy! And Apple Pan Dowdy may be my favorite dessert ever.  It is the perfect combination of pie and bread pudding and caramelly baked apples. Where has this been my whole life?  The Sugar Cakes, Apple Pan Dowdy, and several uniquely Pennsylvania Dutch dishes like Slippery Pot Pie and Rivvel Soup are Barbara’s contribution to expanding my gastronomic curiosity.

Gizmo kissed a cat.  And the cat liked it!  Out of all my guys, his herding tendency made me worried about how he’d get on with the cats.  But he loves Crybaby, a yellow-striped tom that’s also part of this motley crew, and Crybaby loves him.  Crybaby actually likes all the boys and works hard to engage them in goofy little games much to his Mommy’s consternation…  Barbara is over-worried one of them is going to pounce “and break his back because they are so big and rough.” Yes, you just heard my eyes roll but I respect her discomfort and regularly call them off.

Plans for 2018 include finishing up the final classes for my BA in Psychology, making my final selection for grad school, and getting things underway for my MA.  My concentration area has been Social Psychology but I’ve enjoyed the Forensics classes so much more that I think that’s where I will focus my graduate work.  My other goals are pretty tightly focused on job and home and community getting adequately situated in all of them.  I also want to get back to taking little adventures and finding delight in the extraordinary details of day-to-day life that exist if I’m purposeful in paying attention to them. And if I can, I hope to sneak in some art and creative writing.  Which brings us to the goal that’s relevant to this blog: When my life isn’t all that interesting, I lose steam.  So… either I’m going to live a blog-worthy life or take the blog down in this coming year.

This Place is Trying to Kill Me!

I swear it is!

Let me tell you about the string of mishaps this past week.  First off, we've had about 10 days of mostly wet weather so the ground is quite soft and mushy. Again.  Mud is my constant companion.  And enemy.  I've decided I dislike mud almost as much as snow... slimy, slippery, oozing over the top of my shoes mud everywhere.  I don't have a single kind word to say about it and after it introduced itself to my bottom (clad in clean pants no less!) a couple of times I refuse to even try to find kind words about it!

It's made the main drive into what I now refer to as Deathtrap #1.  There's a part of it where one side is a steep 4 or 5-foot embankment, the other drops off 10-12 feet to a tributary creek, and the part where your car needs to be is... mud.  It's only that way for a few yards but a few yards is plenty!  My back wheels find absolutely nothing to grip through here so I fishtail wildly.  Usually falling short of making the top, I slide backwards down the hill until  my tires can grab on some stray bits of grass convinced that if that drop off doesn't kill me I will be injured badly enough to wish it had.  By the time I make several tries and fling enough mud to crest that little rise and roll on up to the cabin, my hands are shaking and I've screamed a rather creative string of profanities.

As an alternative, Jason showed me where to turn off by one of the natural gas wells and come up the back way through a pasture.  A couple of days ago, that presented itself as Deathtrap #2.  There's a specific spot where the car is tipped so far to the side that I'm scared I will roll so I've been going around it, just a few feet lower around some young trees. I spun out there and slid backward down the hill.  By the time I got the slide under control, my back wheels were about 6 inches from the edge of the high creek bank.  It took 45 minutes of inching forward and back and desperately trying to convince God this was not a good day for me to die to get the car turned sideways so I could back up enough to find a different angle to get up and around that corner of the fence. I did it!  Mud put up a heck of a battle that day, but I won!!  And when I got to my parking spot next to the cabin, I sat there for a few minutes shaking and saying a prayer of thanksgiving.

I also have to tell you about Gizmo's new habit.  He has taken to grunting when he wants something.  It's a deep, gravely, irritating sort of grunt and then he raises his little eyebrows and stares off into space with a coyly innocent expression while I try to devine what it is he wants.  Outside, food, water, a treat, a R-I-D-E to the P-A-R-K... it all gets the exact same grunt.  He woke me up with the grunt a few nights ago.  I figured out that he was going to barf pretty quickly and struggled to get Jack and Lightning off me so I could jump up and open the door.  The doorknob fell off in my hand.  And Gizmo did not get out in time...  Is there anything more disgusting than cleaning up a giant dog barf in the middle of the night?  Unfortunately, yes.  There's the part about fighting him back from eating it, as if round 2 is going to sit any better in his tummy, while you clean it up.

After a half hour of fidgeting around I did get the knob to slide into place but it's still coming off about every third time I need to open the door.  Mostly that's just a nuisance but it has potential to make a real problem into something even worse.

Like last night.

I was feeling rather pleased with myself for beating mud at its own game 2 days in a row and wanted to sit down and peacefully sip a cup of cocoa before bed... I put a pan with some water on the Coleman burner and proceeded to put the hot chocolate mix in my cup.  I've said before that thing ain't right... but Jason can't find a problem and dismisses my discomfort with using that flaming little burner.  So I grit my teeth and so far have managed to cook a few meals on it. I still say that thing ain't right!  I think it might be possessed and whatever is in there sure as heck doesn't answer to "Genie!"  It flamed out. Again.  This time worse than ever before... It spit up fuel like a fussy baby which caught fire all over the top of the dry sink and nearly lit up my sleeve while I tried to shut it off and smother the flames with a damp towel. The flames jumped to the floor this time so I did a little dance stomping them out. And I managed to burn a dishcloth, too.  Not just a little singe on the edge either... half the dishcloth is a gaping black hole.  And the cabin is filled with the acrid and ever attractive scent of Eau de Ashes.  Or is it Charcoal #5?

I think it's time for a new adventure.  And this next one really must include a hot shower, a real indoor toilet, and a fully functioning kitchen!  I've proved I can survive an off-grid prepper sort of existence.  Maybe not thrive in it, but I can survive.  And that's good enough for  me.

5 Minutes You'll Never Get Back

Last night as we were getting settled in bed Gizmo decided he needed to snuggle. He may be all sorts of wonderful but a snuggle dog Gizmo is not... He just doesn't have that soft, squishy, comfortable-to-cuddle-on-your-lap kind of body and he doesn't usually even try but every now and then he decides you are in desperate need of a dose of his kind of lovin' and heaven help you, there's not a darn thing you can do about it. You will be Gizzered!

Gizmo, November 11, 2016

Last night was my lucky night...

He took a mighty leap at my side and ended up clinging for dear life with his front legs wrapped over the top of my head and the rest of his body hanging down past my shoulder. His embrace felt more like being trapped in the clenches of a love sick baboon than something pleasant, but I love my little dude so I endured it. Jack was sound asleep and snoring by my other knee already folded into as neat a little ball as a 100-lb Doberman can get which is, actually, surprisingly compact. And in that moment, for no apparent reason whatsoever, I got the giggles. Like out of control, could not stop, shrieking-at-the-top-of-my-lungs kind of giggles proving once again that I am awfully easy to keep entertained. Anyway, I laughed so hard there were tears running down my face. I was gasping for breath and probably turning blue from lack of oxygen. I laughed so hard I almost threw up. Lightning was so worried! He kept stomping round and round and over the top of me, crushing a lung in the process, and sniffing at my face. His expression was utter confusion about what was wrong with me. I guess I don't indulge in a good hard laugh often enough... I guess that needs to change!

Jack, November 11, 2016

After I finally got myself under control, and Gizmo off of me, I decided I was hungry and deserved a snack for surviving such a most excellent workout. I've been very good and didn't even buy any easy-grab-and-snack-junky stuff on the last grocery run so I had to resort to one of my Mom's standby munchies: buttered saltines. Yeah, I know. Ew! Could there be a food that tastes more like cardboard? And butter "just greases it up so it slides better," as she used to say. My Mom buttered everything. Everything. Even pepperoni pizza. But I digress... We were snacking on crackers (which I don't even like except with chili and then it's more like I have a little chili with my bowl of crushed up crackers) and Lightning burps like a third grader in a school yard contest. I swear if he knew how, that was a burp where he could have got the whole alphabet out. He looked as surprised by it as I was!

Lightning, November 11, 2016

To celebrate his utter lack of good manners and top the evening off, I took on the challenge of getting all 3 boys to howl at the moon with me. Not an easy fete! It's like they know howling is a talent that they missed the heavenly line up to get for this lifetime so it takes some serious effort to get an "owoooooo" going. And they still sound more like strangling goats than anything... Is it sad that I have a better howl than my dog? True story!

If you're still reading you've either laughed with me at least once or I just succeeded in wasting 5 minutes of your life that you've got no chance of ever getting back.  Either way...

Thanks for sharing in my bit of ridiculousness!!

The Clipping of the Toe Nails

Should I suddenly and mysteriously die, the coroner tasked with figuring out why would wonder about all the scratches and gashes and bruises and punctures on my body and probably formulate a theory about ritualistic torture.  S/he’d be wrong… but circumstantial evidence would certainly point toward that being a viable theory.  The dog’s nails are even longer now than when I last asked the vet to clip them during a visit and he declined saying they’d wear down naturally as the boys were outside running around more over the summer.  That may be a perfectly true statement if they went out on a paved surface.  I can see how concrete would act as a kind of rasp and keep their nails down to a reasonable length.  But they are on grass.  And grass doesn’t make much of a file.  And their nails are now very long and very sharp!  They’ve pretty much become deadly weapons… And I am getting badly abused as we play and snuggle and jostle for sleeping position.

“Ouch!!” and “Owe baby… your wicked talons are ripping my flesh open so my guts will spill out and I will die and THEN who will feed you and drive you places?” have become way too frequent and dramatic exclamations around here.  Reaching for something to wipe up a trickle of blood as it runs down my leg has also become way too frequent of an occurrence.  And the amount of peroxide I buy to get blood stains out of my clothes is starting to garner me suspicious glances! I have the scars to back up one whale of a tall tale should I ever want to tell one!

It was time for me to get over this little fear and clip their nails myself.

I found this picture on Pinterest but the link leads to a dead blog...
leaving me with a really good illustration but no one to credit for its
creation.  Anonymous Wise Person, thank you!

So I went through all the preparations.  I studied up on clippers and techniques and safety precautions.  I gathered my tools.  I steeled my resolve.  And I wrangled Jack into position.

And clip.  Clip, clip, clip. One paw done.  He didn't pull away at all.  He just sat there, leaned down to sniff the clipper once, and watched me clip away.  The other 3 feet were done the same way.  His ONLY reaction was the expression on his face that said "Jack don't give a [insert your your favorite inflammatory exclamation here]!"  Lightning was curious about the sound and thought the little clipped ends that went flying would make a good snack.  He was probably also jealous that Jack was the center of my attention for those few minutes... the jealousy is strong between those two!  He tried to push his way in a couple of times.  My only struggle with clipping Jack's nails was making Lightning wait for his turn.  And then he sat there for me just as patiently.  Gizmo was the only objector... but he's afraid of pretty much everything so that shouldn't be a huge surprise, I guess.  It took a couple of treats, some soothing words, and a little longer but his nails are done, too, without a lot of undue fuss.

Honestly, clipping their toe nails is easier than clipping my own!

All that build up.  All the people telling me it was such a big deal - a difficult and dangerous and odious task better left to veterinarians and groomers who are trained to do it. All that time I spent worried about hurting them, or me!  Why?  I was thinking I would get to impress you mastering a new skill and it just ended up being no big deal.  I feel robbed.  Totally let down and deflated.  (Yes, I'm exaggerating!)  Either I have the most stupendously wonderful dogs in the whole world or this whole nail clipping thing is scam to steal your money!  It's probably that I've got really great dogs!!

There are a couple of things I learned worth passing along, though:

• Take some time to touch your dogs feet and get them comfortable with their paws being handled.  Don't stick your fingers in between their toes, though.  That's one of those ticklish in an uncomfortable way, and it might get you bit, kind of places for many dogs.
• Figure out how to identify the "quick."  It's the fleshy bit on the inside where the blood vessel is.  If you cut it, there will be blood.  And pain.  And you'll probably feel even worse about doing it than the dog does!! But it's not the end of the world if you do nick it.
• Learn the very simple first aid steps to deal with a cut to the quick.  You can get styptic powder from a pet supply (or maybe even a barber? I remember my Dad had a "styptic stic" in his shaving stuff.) or even use baking soda, cornstarch or a quick rub with a clean bar of soap to stop the bleeding.
• Handle the clippers a bit before you touch the dog with them.  Get used to how they feel in your hands and how the handles and blade move. You'll jump if you get pinched using them and when you jump your dog will jump, too.
• Be calm.  Talk to your dog is confident soothing tones so they have the cues to relax and be confident you aren't hurting them.  Use treats to reward good behavior.

Adventures of the Canine Kind

Lest you think I’m the one having all the fun…  The boys have been having some adventures all their own.

Despite their firm resolution that water is meant for drinking, they’ve been ‘swimming’ in the creek a couple of times.  Shhh… don’t tell them it was a bath.  Swimming sounds so much more adventurous!  Jack is an especially good swimmer.  He can cover the width of the swimming hole in just a couple of strokes.  Lightning stands on the bottom with his back legs and paddles furiously with his front paws – basically going nowhere but splashing an amazing amount of water.  And like nearly everything else in life, Gizmo just plods along at slow and steady pace, unruffled and happy to be with you.

And here’s photographic proof taken this morning that they are here and healthy.  These are the expectant faces trying to convey the message that they like strawberry pop tarts, too, and that they really truly deserve a bite off mine.  The looks were more intense until I grabbed the camera. I guess it just doesn’t rattle the same as that silvery pastry wrapper.

We were here, at the cabin, for a few days at the beginning of the month and then down in the Hagerstown MD area for about 2 weeks.  I came back up this past Wednesday.  Lightning remembered.  And coming down the lane that would unnerve a less intrepid woman, he started his “we are at the dog park” yowling.  The closer to the cabin we got, the louder he got.  And you know it… the other two couldn’t stand being out-yowled so they joined in, each upping the intensity of their carrying on. Pretty soon I didn’t know if I was bouncing and tipping back and forth from their dances or from the road!!  I think it’s safe to say they are happy up here.

Each has made some escape attempts, though.  I keep trying to tell them that we are only pretend country and this is real country up here and they just don’t have the knowledge and skills to survive like country dogs.  They look at me like I’m saying some awful purty-toned “blah blah blah… blah blah blah blah.” And then they haul butt to explore.  Every weed and tree and fence post is new and the scents are simply intoxicating to their canine sensibilities and must be sniffed out.  And marked as their own. They don’t grasp that I’d be really sad if they became some black bear’s midnight snack!

And I know they wouldn’t have the sense to back down and run the other way if they saw a bear...

Or leave the snakes alone…

Or stay off the highway if they happened to wander that far…

Or away from another house where they could be shot as an unwanted stray...

Or out of trash cans and away from assorted dead rodents…

See what I mean by pretend country?  We may have been in a semi-rural looking area in Georgia, but we lived like we were in the city.  My guys are basically dumbed-down, pampered, house dogs.

Last night was Gizmo’s shot at being the evil bad dawg… He ran off.  That boy hauled himself down to the creek, over the bridge and up the other lane on our turnoff to chase chickens.  There’s a house painted a striking shade of sky blue not far up that little road.  And there are hundreds of chickens and guineas wandering around there.  (I may be exaggerating again, but there are a lot!) I’m going to guess that the birds have turned mostly wild because of the number free ranging along the road and each hen is herding a good sized brood of chicks.  I wouldn’t expect the number or all those hatchlings in a domestic flock, especially at this time of year.  I wanted to knock him right into next month for that stunt.  I didn’t.  But I sure wanted to in those moments I was dragging him back to the car away from “Squawkfest 2016.”

A Visit to the Dog Park

There's a new dog park close to my house.  It's way more convenient than the one Derek and I had taken Thunder and Lightning to when they were about 6 months old... back before things went south.  My next door neighbor had told me about Coleman Camp Park and the dog park that had just been added and after getting some directions from her, me and the boys have made a couple of visits.  Here are some pictures:

Lightning saying it's the best Mommy/doggy date ever!

Inside the fenced Large Dog area looking toward the park's pavilion.

There's a splash fountain for water loving dogs to play in.
My guys act scared out of their minds when it comes on...

And there's tires to climb on and crawl through.
The way Jack and Gizmo go all commando under my bed, you'd
think they'd love this.  But you'd be wrong.  It got a couple of
sniffs and then was completely ignored.

Thunder thought drinking from the doggy drinking fountain was
the greatest thing in the history of ever.

Dog bone shaped bench.  The cutest thing for a dog park
or what?

Mostly they just galloped laps around the park.  We had it all to ourselves...  Lightning kept coming up to me with the silliest happy grin almost like he couldn't remember having so much fun before and then he'd take off again and run hard.  Jack was so worked up over the event that his back leg just shivered everytime he stood still for a moment.  And poor Gizmo whose short legs don't move so fast, wore out first from trying to keep up.  Even at home, I call him Pokey because it almost always takes him longer to get to the door to come in.

After about an hour they were all looking for shady spots to lay down in the grass so I gathered them up to go home and they crashed.  Nothing but snores for a couple of hours...  It was an awesome break!

We'll definitely be going back to this park often!

When Rover Goes Missing

We've all been drilled in this modern day to microchip our pets so it's easier to find them if they should go missing.  Today, with the ulterior motive of finding out how to update the contact information, I asked the vet how they work.  And he was gracious enough to spend 20 minutes or so educating me and checking Lightning, Jack and Gizmo for chips.

Jack doesn't have one.  Or the one that the folks at Banfield inserted in his scruff is faulty and doesn't read.  No... I won't go on another rant about just how much I hate them.  I do hate them!  I'm just sparing you the rant about it.  Lightning and Gizmo, and Thunder I presume though he wasn't with us to check, have chips made and/or maintained by a company called Home Again.  I don't have the other names, but he said they are one of several companies to offer this service.

What got me thinking about this was the bill I got awhile back for Gizmo's chip.

Home Again wants $18.97 each year.  That made me worry that they could somehow 'turn off' the chip so he couldn't be scanned at a vet or shelter were he to be picked up loose somewhere...  That's kind of what the bill led me to believe and it made me a little nervous.  I thought it was outrageous!  Better to look dumb and be sure than end up with a problem down the road, so I asked about it.

The vet explained the yearly fee is for their 'location service.'  In a nutshell, when your pet goes missing you alert them and send them a recent picture so they can prepare fliers for you to print and post in your neighborhood and they fax the information to area vets and shelters.  I have a computer and the minimal skills needed to make a flier and I can place a few phone calls...  He agreed that the yearly fee is pretty much a rip off.  He also said that 5 times more lost pets are reunited with their families because of Facebook postings than those fliers.  Once the chip is there, it's there.  You may, depending on the brand, have to pay to register it and, again depending on the brand, update your contact information.  But unless you move or change phone numbers, the location service is a needless extra charge and not something you have to subscribe to in order for the chip to be active.

If you don't update your information, the chip will point the organization searching for you to claim your lost pet to the vet who originally purchased it and hopefully they will be able to reach you.  The biggest problem with this is if your pet is hurt at night or on a weekend while out on his (or her?) adventure and they can't reach the vet's office.  Most shelters will NOT provide even basic life saving care while you are being sought...

So tonight I'm updating the address and phone number on their microchips.  And 2 years down the road trying to register Thunder's and Lightning's chips because, even though Banfield was paid for that, it wasn't done.  Yay.  And yay, again, Jack will have to be chipped when I scrape up another $40 for it.

In the vets office, he brought out the reader to show me how it worked. It's kind of similar to and used like the 'wand' that TSA probes you with at the airport and when it goes over the microchip it beeps and displays an alphanumeric code in the display window.  That code, much like a barcode, is the identifying information linking you to your pet in their database.  The vet or shelter staff can enter it in to the website and get an owner's contact information and pretty soon witness a happy reunion.

And that, my friends, is what I learned about microchips today.

And no... I'm not happy that I have to come up with $100 to get everyone chipped with the correct information.  It's another place where it feels like I'm needlessly hemorrhaging money that I don't have but they kind of have me over a barrell.  Now that I know that Home Again is so fee oriented I will specifically request that they not be used on any future pet.

Droid...

Photo courtesy of Single Dad Laughing's
Facebook post 12/8/13.

When I moved to Georgia one of the very first things Derek did was drag me to the Verizon store to trade in my oh so simple flip phone for a fancy-schmancy 'smart phone.'  And I've hated that phone... It's had some operational issues where it didn't ring with an incoming call and just sent the caller directly to voicemail until they shot me texts askings where the %^&$# I was and why the (&^% I wasn't answering their calls.  And all the functions and apps and alarms and voices and stuff made me feel dumb.  And I felt like a slave with an obligation to see what it was every time the dumb thing said "DROID" in my pocket or purse.

A couple of weeks ago one of the dogs, presumably Gizmo since he has a taste for electronics, found Derek's even smarter smart phone unattended on the table.  He tried to make it his mid-day snack.  Whether he's the one that got it off the table or not, he is the one I found huddled over it on the floor.

And since Derek didn't continue the $6 a month insurance, there's no free replacement...

And since we're broke, buying him another one is out of the question...

And since he needs to carry a phone with him for his work, he's been taking mine.

And you know what?

I'm not even missing the silly thing 95% of the time.  Now and then it would be convenient.  Some may even call it needful since we don't have a landline at home but not being tied to a phone and all the demands it presents has been freeing.  We talked a little about getting me another cheap flip phone and he will use my Android but I'm thinking I might just not get another one at all.

How's that for simplifying life?

Random-nimity

When I was a baby, not even big enough to remember her ever working on it, my Grandma Clarke made me a true patchwork quilt.  Still buried in one of the dozen boxes to be unpacked when I finally get my 'woman cave,' it's made of randomly shaped and sized pieces of silky fabric that came mostly from her dresses or the scraps of material left when she made a new one.  I can sort of remember her in a couple of the dresses and there are old black and white photos where you can match the fabric pattern up for a few more, but most of them totally escape my memory.

I was thinking about that quilt the other day and how the random acts of a life can be a lot like one of those 'crazy patch' quilts.

And that's what today is about...

Random things.

Not so much that they're too insignificant to be the topic of an entire blog post, or even Facebook update, just that the post never came together and materialized in a form I wanted to share.  Mostly it's little things...  Things like how luck works.

It's no secret that we are pretty desperately poor and really scraping to make bills each month.  That's part of what irritated me, though I kept silent about it, when Derek bought the occasional lottery ticket.  Except... last night he got a winning ticket!  One worth more than the $5 he put into it.  A LOT more!!

That's right!  $500, baby!!!

That makes the mortgage for November a whole lot easier!

And I put up the fridge magnets (FINALLY!) that I kept during last year's move.  My friend's son's pictures have been in these magnetic frames for... well, I don't really remember when I put them in the frames but it's been a long time.  Those little boys have long been grown men by now.

Nathan, the older one, used to call me whenever he could sneak it past mom's watchful eye.  It was a long distance call - they lived in Wyoming then and I still lived in Idaho.  He was polite and thoughtful, almost like an old-time suitor.  He never failed to inquire about my mom's health, the weather, work, our small black poodle...  For a little man, Nathan sure could carry on the grown up conversation!  And it just tickled me pink and gave me quite the thrill that out of all the people in the world, he'd choose to call me.

I wonder if he remembers?

For about an hour this afternoon we all made a dog pile on the bed and watched football.  I think it was the Florida/Maryland game... but I'm not enough of a fan to really follow super close so I could be wrong.  For me watching a sports event is more of a social thing than actually being a fan of the team or sport.  I understand what's happening enough to enjoy the game, but not enough to seek it out on my own.

All of which has absolutely nothing to do with anything...

Pardon the puppy porn...

In the dog pile, Gizmo kept turning over and skooching around to find the most comfortable spot.  He ended up stretched along my side on his back with my arms around his butt.  (Insert bad joke about him being such a little cuddle butt.)  What I was noticing, though, is the skin of his tummy region where it's less covered by fur.  It's both dark brown and pale pink in blotches much like the Indian Paint Ponies made famous in B-grade western movies.  And so so soft and warm!

And, she says with an evil grin, ticklish!!