Blog Archives

Flu shots, DH, and miscellaneous questions

 

     Dear Hubby hasn’t felt well for the last couple of days and tonight he thinks he’s figured out why.  It seems that every time he’s with his Mother, when or right after she gets a flu shot, he gets ill.  Could it be that she sheds just enough of the virus/antiviris that his contact with her gives him a mild case of the flu?

     Why does my inner child play with matches when I’m already warm but refuses to when I’m cold?

     If you’re the only person to show up for a meeting, is it a meeting?

     Why is it that when you decide to have a quiet night reading, the phone that has been silent for weeks begins to ring every five minutes?

     Why is it that if one dog is quiet, the other one decides to cut up?

     If the damned squirrels can’t remember where the heck they’ve buried their nuts, why do they bury them in the first place.  (You should see the holes in my yard and gardens.)

     If you know someone is always late, do you tell him/her to come at an earlier time so he/she will arrives on time?  (I do.)

Someone call the pool man the shallow end of gene pool needs cleaning

 

     Spike network has a new show called A Thousand Ways to Die.  What I’ve seen in the advertisements makes me believe that particular end of the gene pool needs a good cleaning.  Drinking gasoline to get drunk?  Oh, please, there’s a person whose genes DO NOT need to be replicated.

     The show on TruTV World’s Dumbest Crooks or what ever it’s called, shows more prime candidates floundering away in the shallow end of the gene pool.  Have you ever read those dumb crook of the month articles?  Yep, more chlorine please. 

     How about the people Jay Leno has talked to on his street walking bit?  Do you think that some of them should pass their genes on to future generations?  Oh, pool man!

     I won’t even bother to mention Octomom since she already has passed on her genes to another generation.  Heaven help them.

Of mourning doves and dogs

 

     My dogs aren’t supposed to be bird dogs.  It’s not something that BTs were bred for but lately you’d think they were.  For some odd reason I have two mourning doves who are hanging around the pond.  After several days of them taking flight from under Gavin and Patty’s noses, the dogs are looking for the dumb birds, even pointing them.  I say dumb birds because they don’t go far and return to the same place as soon as we walk away from the pond.

     The dogs know I have a strict rule of no birds, no chasing them, no hunting them, and no killing them.  But what’s a dog to do when they no longer fly away but run along in front of them?  (If you recall from an earlier post, I won’t let the pups run loose in the yard until we can repair the fence this summer.)  The doves are driving the pups crazy with this ground hugging nonsense.  Although I think if the birds took flight, it’d really chafe under their collars.

     Every time we go out now, they drag me to the pond where they will point out the doves.  I keep telling them they aren’t bird dogs they’re BTs.  I think they are suffering from delusions of Setter grandeur or Brittany fantasies.

When characters revolt

 

     What do you do when your characters pull a coup?  In one of my books, they seem to be doing just that.  I can’t get my protagonist on board with my ideas.  The antagonist has gone willy-nilly into the background and the whole story line has gone to the dogs.  Yes, to the dogs.  It seems that they want to be the real stars in book four.  No, there isn’t an excerpt to read.  It’s not ready for that.  It may never be ready for that.

     Book four is an idea, one that I add to occasionally.  I won’t get around to writing it until after I finish books one through three.  However, even in idea form the characters are not cooperating.  Book four has become a repository for scenes that don’t work in the other books.  It might stay locked in a file under the title of The Big Book of Unused Scenes, or it may be the book where the dogs take center stage and the other characters blend into the background.

     In any case, it’s where most of the brilliant but overdone doggy scenes I cut from the other books go when they don’t work.

MIL update, Gavin, and miscellaneous thoughts

 

     Dear Hubby’s mother has come down with a cold but she’s still working hard in her daily PT.  The feisty old gal is quite resolute about getting out of the Rehab Hospital.  It’s been a little over a month since her fall and she is showing no lack of determination.  Dear Hubby is there every day while she does her PT, which I think is a great help in motivating her.

     Gavin’s ear looks good and he’s been enjoying daily romps with Patty.  Although, now when she gets a bit nippy around his ears she does get a scolding.  You can practically see her roll her eyes at you.  “Geez, I can’t grab his ears and you yell at me for dragging him around by his collar.  What’s a girl to do?”  The no collar rule stems from having to buy Gavin new ones too many times after she’d chewed through them (while they were still on his neck.)

     We had a gray drizzly day today but it was warm.  In between sprinkles, I did some clean up work on the pond.  I won’t be able to do the major work until spring is in full blast.

March, an amazing month

 

     A few days ago, we had snow on the ground and today the mercury hit seventy degrees.  I love the capriciousness of March.  It’s the Yin and Yang month of the year.  Winter and spring battle for four weeks.  We root for spring to win since by March we’ve had enough of winter.

     Tomorrow spring will rule for most of the day but winter will make a raid on our evening.  We will wonder if spring will rally in the next few days.  My budding gardens say yes.  Grass is slowly showing signs of life.  Faster would nice so I don’t have dogs tracking in mud.

     The Koi are hungry they beg for food now, and our frogs are beginning to creep out of the pond to hunt, more signs that spring will soon win the battle.

     It won’t be long and I’ll be digging in sun warmed soil planting flowers and vegetables.  By my back door, my chives are starting to peek through the mulch in their pot.  The mint and lavender will soon follow suit.

MS and the White House connection

   

     I’m a hard-core cynic.  We’ve heard too many empty promises from politicians, TV and movie stars, and MS organizations. 

     Empty promises like when they (organizations, stars, and politicians) say they will help us pay for mobility devices and ramps to make our home more accessible, because so far, those have been completely out of pocket expenditures for us.  When they say that there are support groups for Dear Hubby, because any we’ve found seem to be for newly diagnosed patients, and those with relapsing remitting MS.  He refuses to sit through another ‘I-was-just-diagnosed-and-need-a-shoulder-to-cry-on’ session.  It’s not from lack of sympathy on his part; it’s from overload on the subject.  We’ve never found one that addresses the long term and secondary progressive MS issues.

     When they say there are medications out there, we agree that there are, but again, they are mainly for people with relapsing remitting MS.  Sometimes DH feels as though he’s on another planet when it comes to SPMS. 

     Will the Obamas’ personal connection to MS make a difference?  I hope so.  What will a White House connection bring to the table?  So far, we’ve a promise of a reversal on stem cell research.  This does hold promise for DH and others who have MS, especially those who have SPMS and PPMS.

 

Accentuate the positive…

 

     We didn’t hit the lottery this week.  One hundred and seventy four million would have been nice.  However, the sudden change to an entirely new tax bracket would’ve been mind blowing.  (Imagine how popular one becomes when one wins a pot like that.)  The phone rings off the hook, friends and relatives you never knew you had, crawl out of the woodwork, or out from under rocks.  Makes me glad we didn’t win.

     The weather is getting warmer and although we may have one or two more snowstorms sneak in here, spring is just around the corner.  Yes, spring!  The yard may be all mud but that means the fertilizer will sink in faster and the grass will be greener this summer.

     Money is tighter so we’ll be home more.  Less driving equals less pollution, this is good.  We’ll shop at the farmer’s market more often because it’s closer than the supermarket, which means we’ll keep the local farmers in business. 

     The price of our electric is going up so that means we’ll turn on fewer lights, evenings will be more romantic by candlelight.  This could be very good.

Who is the ghost who did my writing?

     I’m not talking about hiring a ghost writer.  I’m talking about reading your manuscript and wondering where in the world did that (paragraph, page, chapter…whatever) come from? 

     You’ve rolled along on your writing for days, and then you hit a bump that made you stop.  You decide to go back and read over what you’ve written.  Strange sentences jump out at you.  It seems that someone else took over your keyboard and did the typing for you.  Your characters are clumsy, their dialogue is stilted, the scenery has lost its luster, and everything that you thought was brilliant looks dull.

     Do you stop and fix it?  Sometimes if it’s bad enough, you might.  Otherwise, it might be better to mark the spots where things took a downhill plunge to fix up later, and push on. 

     What do I do?  I hit the ‘text highlight color’ and highlight everything that is weak.  This way I can go back later and easily spot the areas I need to fix.  When do I fix them?  I fix them on those days where I am having trouble moving forward in the book.  I find that if I go back and do my corrections I can often find the insight in my characters or their motivations that I need to continue.

Out of my mind, back in five minutes

     Do you ever have those days where you’d like to hang a sign on your door telling people to go away?  I do.  Not because I’m mad at people, but because I need to keep my butt installed in my chair and write.  I’ve tried the ‘writer at work, do not disturb sign’ and most people think it means everyone else but them. 

     Worse than neighbors and friends is Dear Hubby.  I could hang the damned sign around my neck, add blinking lights, large arrows pointing to it, put obvious (neon orange) earplugs in my ears, and he will still insist on disturbing me.  It is difficult enough to sit down and write when I have two dogs bugging me every five minutes to go out, but they’re dogs and they live in the now.  What part is it about ‘I’m working’ that the man can’t understand?

     Dinner is in the oven, the dogs have been out several times, DH is up for a nap, I’m on a roll…, and, and, and the phone is ringing.  Dang, time to hang up the sign.

 Out of my mind!

Back in five minutes…

Using your dog’s behaviors in training

     I’ve said before that Gavin was a real handful when we got him at the age of eight weeks.  I wasn’t kidding in the least.  Mr. Dominate was a nipper, jumper, and hated the word no.  He was not a dog for the faint of heart.  But then, no Bull Terrier is. 

     He would jump at me and nip my clothes leaving me with quite the holey wardrobe.  I finally hit on a way to funnel his love for jumping into a trick he’d enjoy and would save me buying all new clothing.  I bought a Hula-hoop and began to teach him to jump through it when I said ‘hoop’ and would reward him with a treat.  He learned it quickly and loved the attention his new trick brought to him.  He enjoyed it so much he forgot about nipping.

     We’d invite Cleo the standard poodle who lives across the street over to our yard for play dates.  We didn’t have a second dog at the time.  He taught her how to jump hoops.  I had to buy a second Hula-hoop so they didn’t clang into each other trying to jump through the same hoop at the same time.  It looked like a circus act.

     After Patty arrived, he showed her the ropes and now she does good hoop jumps.  Maybe we should take the act on the road…

Update on MIL

 

     Since it was Sunday, my mother-in-law had a break from her rigorous schedule of physical therapy today.  Dear Hubby made a special stop at a local restaurant known for its home made ice cream and picked up some for her, raspberry his favorite of their flavors.  This woman has a passion for ice cream no matter what time of year so I’m sure the gesture pleased her.  Mom was in good spirits but didn’t have much of an appetite so she insisted DH share her treat.

     I can’t eat ice cream in the winter time.  I find the only time I’m hungry for it is when the mercury climbs above eighty degrees.  It certainly wasn’t near that today.  Now it’s snowing—DANG IT!

     Hope you all had a very good day.