Monday, January 31, 2011

In the end...

There are always little spots in my day that make me say "really?" Usually the voice stays inside my head, but then there are occasions when I am forced to ponder out loud. I think sometimes that is because I actually hope there is an answer, or relatively decent explanation for what I've seen or heard. I had plenty of bloggy tales to tell, but just couldn't get myself motivated. I am once again baffled by what finally pushes me to put a message out there.

Take this example...

Now I do realize that duct tape is one of the forces holding the universe together and all of that jazz. I also will admit that the silver metallic color of the tape does nearly blend with the golden color of the vehicle. The part that has me baffled is the addition of red tape to mimic the light. I am all for the crafty aspect of it, and fully appreciate the symmetrical look it restored. However, considering the overall end result, I am not convinced that this was effort and time well spent. For a brief moment I thought perhaps it was transparent tape that would let the light show up as red (as I would never understand a directional blinking at me in clear flashes). When we stopped for the light though, I realized that there was no light at all coming through, what I then saw as, the fairly thick tape.

Later that day...

While enjoying lunch with some friends, our forty-something group was compelled to contemplate this...

We suddenly transformed into an eighty-something group as we didn't all necessarily keep our comments to a "less than hard of hearing" level. Then we quickly transformed into a group of pre-teen boys as three of us tried to catch the best photo. Looking back, I must admit that trying to get the shot for the sake of this blog might not be a good enough excuse for us.

Now I am the type of gal who does not like to feel the breeze if my shirt rides up my back a little and will yank it back down in a heartbeat. You would think that this woman must've felt some sort of cool air wafting by. Am I just getting old? I thought it didn't get much worse that people's actual cracks hanging out the top of their pants, but somehow the style and color of one's intimate apparel feels like an even bigger invasion of privacy.

In all fairness, I guess I'd have to admit that I cannot fully grasp the appeal of the thong underwear to begin with (especially for the person wearing them). I don't even like to floss my teeth, let alone my backside. Moreover, I can barely wear flip-flops (or as I used to know them-THONGS). If you happen to see the band of my Hanes cotton "wedgie-free" briefs, so sorry. If you happen to see some sort of panty lines through my khakis, stop looking and take peace in the fact that I am actually wearing underwear!

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

I don't like him like that

Well, as much as I hate to risk offending dog lover's and nostalgic t-shirt and bumper sticker creators everywhere, I have to admit that our dog is not my best friend. Most days I am not even sure that we are what I would call close chums. He is not terribly demanding emotionally, but is a bit of a mooch when it comes to food and shelter. He also tends to let himself go in the general grooming category, but with a teenage boy in the house, I suppose he's in good company there.

The vet we have taken him to suggests that dogs be brought in for check ups every six months. It is not a sign that I do not care about the Foz enough to bring him in that often, but more a realization that I care for my children more and they only go for physicals once a year. Since I can't seem to remember to call the vets office (and am also slightly put off by the phone voices all of the women there if Cindy Loo Who impressions were a job qualification), I wandered in to see what Foz might truly be due (ok, overdue) for. I might've felt badly about the year lapse in his kennel cough vaccine if he was home hacking up a lung, and I was ignorant enough to not really know what the distemper booster really was for, but doubted it had anything to do with Fozzie's general afternoon grumpiness when a nap gets interrupted. His rabies vaccine isn't due until late 2012, so I figured we were in good shape. I scheduled an appointment and went on my merry way home to tell Fozzie the good news. I could tell he instantly felt more loved.

I figured enough time had passed since last spring when Fozzie had a series of visits related to a personal (and less than appealing) issue he was having. Based on how hard he tried to dig his feet into their tile waiting room floor to avoid the exam room, I guess he begged to differ on the statute of limitations on vet office terror. By the time he settled in to the new surroundings, the vet came in, apparently wearing the same needle and general probing scent. Fozzie is not one to turn down a friendly gesture, but clearly had his reservations.

While all fifteen pounds of Fozzie's hulking body was on the metal table, my seat in the chair put us at pretty much eye level. We pretty much had a stare down while all of his parts were getting examined. Now I do try to leave my inner preteen at home giggling in private about the exam of dog "privates". However, it is almost too much to ask for me to actually participate in any discussion regarding such palpating. The vet said "Well, as you know, his testicles are still here" (sure, if you say so, but they could be out in my back yard for all I know). "They feel fine, and you'll want to feel them on a regular basis as well" (um, no, actually I would not). Fozzie looked undecided on the whole deal, and I was just hoping with all hope that a demonstration was not in my immediate future! Phew...a narrow escape.

It was not like I was exuding any pretense that Fozzie and I spent a lot of intimate time with each other. The poor dog had some gunk in the corner of his eye that I openly admitted being basically unable to tackle. There was also the issue of how timely our appointment was, but considering the dog's good health, I was not judged. I do what is in my realm of abilities (yes, and interest) to take decent care of our canine pal.

After we came home, I was watching the Foz frolic in the backyard, and thought about what a good dog he really is. I also realized that if I was to know if there was some sort of testicular issue in his life, I may not recognize it if I didn't have some sense of normal. I let the dog back inside, gave him some Cheerios and then I went to the mall. Fozzie and I have a sort of unspoken agreement that we will keep each of our own monthly exams to ourselves (and by ourselves)...although I think he checks himself out WAY more than once a month!

Saturday, January 8, 2011

Maybe I wasn't trying hard enough...

Ah, the weekend...full of possibilities and opportunities...for me to be aggravated? Since my daughter chose Friday evening's dinner (granted I had narrowed it down to something starting with raw chicken), I figured I would let the slightly smaller of the two man-childs choose Saturday evening's fare, but I left the door a little too far open for the selection process. I am not sure which part of my brain was faulty wired enough to allow me to think that he would conjure up something that could be constructed out of items already in the house. He did choose something that involved minimal effort though, aside from actually braving Wegmans on a Saturday afternoon.

I decided to give my full attention to the couponing effort, so I was cross referencing the Target ad with the Target coupons with the manufacturers' coupons with the flimsy Wegmans flier and last but not least, my actual grocery list. I hadn't decided just how ambitious I was feeling and considered saving Target for a less populated weekday. Then my daughter asked what we were doing on Sunday, and if we could possibly make a trip to Target (as both kids had Target gift cards setting their pockets aflame). When I am feeling indecisive, as I was, I will let a gentle breeze sway me, so off the three of us went for a sure to be fun filled, productive and money saving trip to Wegmans and Target. We had lists and coupons and reusable shopping bags at the ready.

Yes, we had those three things at the ready, just moments earlier, at home. As I narrowly escaped losing my ankles to a youth driven, I reached in my purse for the coupon caddy that contained our list, and it was not there. Before sending my son out to the car to check between the seats, (Because really? If he came in empty handed, I'd have doubted his investigative skills and ended up going back out myself anyway.) I decided to phone home to see if our missing items were there (only because I knew they would be in plain sight if they were). I tried to keep my growing aggravation in check, as I said "Hi! Is the coupon thing right there on the counter?" (pause while he checks) "Yes it is. Well, actually it's on the island." Um, New Year's resolution to be more pleasant be damned, as I might've not been doing my best as I snapped (not quietly) something along the lines of "What difference does it make which countertop surface the item is on when I am here at Wegmans?" Suffice to say, he arrived very promptly with our coupon/list carrier. Yes, I was very grateful, and no I will not badger him any further about his his face...(baby steps, baby steps).

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Not four, not 20...

Well, with the holiday season drawing to a close, I can finally unpack the suitcases and unwind a little as I procrastinate the next changing of the guard in home decor from Christmas to snowmen. It is also time to reflect on the new year beginning. I am going to save myself the trouble of stocking my refrigerator with rabbit food and growing sore with any unrealistic exercise regime. Instead, I think my big resolution will just be to try harder, and maybe more often, to not to be a completely unpleasant person.

I can already tell that the year has promise just from the captivating news stories. The reports I currently have my eye on involve birds falling from the sky...dead, as opposed to just tired. Apparently just before midnight, just minutes before the new year, these blackbirds started falling from the sky over Arkansas. Over four thousand were found. I don't know anything about the population density of the particular area of Arkansas this mass death occurred over, but can you imagine? I saw Alfred Hitchcocks fabulous work, The Birds, and I can assure you that falling dead birds would not give me more peace than live birds with good aim, as the falling dead bird has no last minute pull up or swerve. Four hundred birds would be a mess, as would forty, if they fell close enough together. The area containing the thousands was only a square mile, and the dropping took place in less than one hour. Ew!

What kind of omen did those people think had come when birds, yes BIRDS, started falling down...out of the night sky? One of the theories is that the flock (?) may have been frighted by the sound of fireworks, and in their mass panic began flying into each other and other objects. Forget the firework shrapnel, get an umbrella to keep the birds off your head. Yikes! The birds have showed signs of trauma with blood clots and internal bleeding in the tests, but reports were uncertain as to whether that was from the fall to earth or cause for the fall (perhaps both).

I did try to ignore the story at first, like most of the other CNN stories on my homepage, not letting myself fully grasp the notion. However, when a second state was highlighted as having more bad bird news, I couldn't look away. Now Louisiana really shouldn't complain, as there were only five hundred dead birds littering yards there (not FIVE THOUSAND...sorry, still can't process). Kentucky is reporting "numerous" dead birds. One scientist said the events were "unusual, but not unprecedented". However, he did not provide, or the reported omitted any other precedents that may have already been set.

I suppose I could bend my rules a bit about setting resolutions that may only get followed until mid-February, and resolve to change my homepage and not get sucked in to crazy news, Happy New Year!