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I should sleep like this more often

 

Holy Mickey Finn, Batman!  I have no idea where the day went but it went without me.  Here we go loop de loooo-oh boy.  Dear Hubby told me that I even dropped off to sleep in mid sentence more than once today.  I don’t care as long as this stuff works and clears the itises out.  At least I can talk now without feeling as though my throat is full of razor wire.

Now if I can only stay awake long enough toooozzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz…..Er where was I?  Oh yes, if only I can stay awake long enough to post this.

Need ten days of sleep?

 

     I now know why the doctor asked me if I needed a note for work.  Holy crap, these meds knock me ass over tin cups.  I struggle to keep my eyes open for more than five minutes.  I have nine more days to go on them. 

     Let’s see, that could mean nine days of sporadic and silly posts.  It could mean nine days of gibberish.  Gee, I like that word.  Gibberish, it sounds more interesting than rubbish or twaddle.

     You would think that with all the wonderful fresh vegetables and fruits my family plied me with while I was up there visiting that I’d have been bursting at the seams with great health.  There’s nothing like fresh cauliflower, carrots, zucchini, watermelon, red raspberries, and blueberries freshly picked.  I picked a quart of blueberries Sunday afternoon, packed it in the back of the van, and one of the cousins stashed a couple of large zucchinis in there too.

     Now, I’m going to go back to sleep.

I spent my anniversary in the doctor’s office

 

     Here it was, our 36th wedding anniversary and what did we do?  Nothing.  I was too sick to do anything other than sleep.

     I should’ve called and made an appointment to see the doctor.  I had no idea it would be so busy there today.  I sat in the waiting room for two hours, which is the longest I’ve ever had to wait as a walk in.  I was quickly diagnosed with pharyingitis, laryngitis, and bronchitis.  Oh joy. 

     The nurse came in and gave me a shot.  I was handed two prescriptions and sent on my merry way.  Truly not so merry since I’m feeling miserable.  Dear Hubby is a doll he kept getting me things to drink when I’d become conscious.  The cough medicine and the antibiotic are both taken once every twelve hours.  They are kicking my ass. 

     They told me if don’t feel better in three days I should go back.  As it is, I feel as though there’s an elephant on my chest and I have a throat full of feathers.  They are tickling me into coughing fits.

     We will celebrate our anniversary AFTER I get through this nasty crap.

Taking a break for the ROADTRIP!

 

     The suitcase is packed, the car will be loaded tomorrow, and then I’ll be on my way.  In the meantime, I hope you all have a good time while I’m gone.  I’ll post when I get home. 

     Dear Hubby is in charge of the house and dogs while I’m gone—I hope to heaven the dogs behave for him.  They can be a handful when I’m not around.  (When the alpha dog’s away…and all that.)  Hey, I even have an ‘Alpha Dog’ T-shirt and DH bought it for me.

     I’ve left DH a list—it’s not long, just reminders as to what to do with the dog’s water, the fish, and to remember to water the potted vegetable garden and the flowers in the pots on the front porch every afternoon once the sun is off them.  I know him, without a list he’d forget to water the plants.  He wouldn’t add the cider vinegar to the dog’s water, which, by the way, has cleared up Gavin’s chronic ear infection.  So we don’t want to stop doing that do we?  He’d also ignore the fish and they’d have to live on algae—they would not be pleased.

There’s nothing like a klutz owning a klutzy dog…

 

     I’ve said it many times I am a klutz.  Now I’m telling you so is Gavin.  Occasionally Gavin follows Dear Hubby upstairs when he comes to wake me.  Gavin loves the idea of a good bed bouncing wake up call for me.  This morning was one of those days.  Even Patty got into the act.

     So there I was, helpless, under my covers, with two dogs and a husband pouncing on me.  DH thinks it’s hysterical because when they get the chance it is dogs gone wild.  It is on the bed, off the bed, on the bed, off the bed, leaping higher and higher, getting wilder with each leap…you get the idea.  Meanwhile I’m getting bruised, bashed, and smooched on by the two idiot dogs and DH is giggling like a fool.

     Finally, after I’ve suffered enough DH yells, “downstairs!”  And the pups are off down the hall and the steps like a shot.

     I weakly crawled out from under the covers and I notice a bit of blood on my bottom sheet near where they’d been hopping about.  Great, I strip the bed so I can get the bloodstain out of my BRAND NEW sheets.  I get dressed and carry the bedding down the hall.  I notice more blood—not a lot just spots of it on the floor. 

     I called downstairs, “Honey, check the dogs someone is bleeding.  Better check Gavin first.”

     I was right it was Gavin.  He broke a claw again.  Normally when Gavin does it, it means a vet run because the broken claw is never completely broken off.  At least this time he did it right, and we were easily able to stop the bleeding—dang, broken claws bleed like crazy.  He does this often, don’t know why, how, or how to stop it from happening.  It’s like me spraining ankles—I do it with great frequency.

The gardens needed the rain

 

     It was almost time to drag out the hose and water the gardens.  After so much rain there for a while, we had a nice dry spell, but we were due for some rain.  The rain began around seven tonight and I’m jumping in here in between storm cells.

     During one break between downpours, I went outside with the flashlight and checked around the pond.  Dear Hubby calls this doing my frog count because I always tell him how many I’ve seen after I do my walk around each night.  They certainly were active in the yard tonight.  I think they were enjoying the rain.  I counted nine bullfrogs.  I don’t often see more than four or five most nights.

     One small bullfrog took my presence as a threat.  He panicked, screamed, and took off as if the hounds of hell were on his water tight butt.  The poor thing careened into a plastic coffee can (we have it near the pond for the worms I catch to feed the fish), then he bounced off of a piece of slate, took a high flying leap, and landed with a loud splash in the pond.  The bigger frogs have more sense.

It is a long trip but worth it!

 

     In seven days, I’ll be driving three hundred and fifty miles by myself.  I’m driving that far to attend my cousin’s wedding.  Gee, last year I did the trip twice (once by plane) to attend his brothers’ weddings.  I wouldn’t make a trip like this for just anyone but I do adore my cousins and can’t wait to get there.

     I was supposed to have a friend drive with me but she’s injured, and she can’t travel.  Dear Hubby can’t make the trip because he doesn’t dare leave his mother alone for four days in a row.  She’s not up to that yet.  He calls her every day and goes over to her house every other day now.  Therefore, once again I do the trip alone.

     I don’t mind.  It’s a lovely drive and I’ll get to see all my aunts and many of my cousins.  Since I’m a night owl I’ll be traveling at night and arrive there in the morning the day before the wedding.  My dear, sweet Auntie, the mother of the groom, promises she’ll have coffee ready for me when I get there.  I’ll need it and a nap.

You know the animals are spoiled when…

 

     The dogs bark at you when dinner isn’t in their dishes by five-thirty at the latest and you hurry up to give it to them. 

     The neighbor’s cat looks at you, at his treats, then at you again, and you give him some.

     The Koi beg for worms as soon as you walk near the pond so you go dig some out of the compost heap.

     The frog expects you to throw him some worms when you are feeding them to the Koi and you do it.

     The squirrels jump on the neighbor’s screen door when the corn cob she puts out for them is empty and she brings them a fresh cob.

     The poodle across the street expects you to have cookies in your pocket and you do.

     The basset hound whose owner walks him by on a regular basis wants to take a water break at your house on hot days and you have the dish filled and ready.

     The cat birds clean the blueberries off the bushes right under your nose, and you don’t chase them away.  Instead, you sigh, and think it’s a good thing you have bags of frozen blueberries in the freezer.

Kiss my arse Martha Stewart!

 

     Dear Hubby is often frustrated that he can longer do the things he did years ago.  Sometimes I share that frustration when I need something done around here. 

     I’ve found that if I can’t find help, I have to adapt, improvise, and overcome.  Today I overcame the broken table out in the yard.

     Less than two summers ago, we bought a Martha Stewart table for the outdoors.  What a huge mistake!  Here we were thinking how great it was that we bought this lovely, large wood outdoor table on sale.  Well, kiss my arse Martha…it has fallen apart in less than two seasons.  (I’m so glad we bought it on sale for a super cheap price, it certainly wasn’t worth the regular price.)  Today, since I couldn’t find anyone to help, I took it apart.  It took me a bit of time, some struggle, the right tools, and brute strength, but I managed.  Then I had to carry the darned unwieldy thing out of the yard.  It is sitting against the side of the house with its removed legs and will go out for garbage tomorrow night.

     DH was very surprised and quite pleased to have the table gone because he can now run the riding mower over the spot where it stood.  I’m pleased to have it gone because I don’t have to run the weed eater underneath it any more.

I’m no sugar and spice girl.

 

     I’m not a girly girl.  I never have been, never will be.  Proof of that hit me yesterday when my neighbor’s son came to the gate and told me he’d found a bunch of worms for the Koi.  I let him in, we went over to the pond, and I asked him if he wanted to feed the fish.  Nope, he didn’t want to handle the worms.  He handed me the large plastic drink cup in which he had them contained.  I giggled.  I couldn’t help myself.  I was trying to figure out how he’d picked up the worms without handling them.

     I was always a tom boy.  I started fishing as soon as I was able to hold a fishing pole.  If we went fishing with Grandpa or my Father, we had to bait our own hooks.  Worms don’t bother me.  I remember chasing a cousin or two with a nice big night crawler. 

     I remember when the boys in school would try to scare me with a snake or a mouse and I didn’t scream and run.  Instead, I’d squeal, “Oh, how cute!  Can I hold it?”  Picture their disappointed little faces.

     When I came in from playing outside, much to my mother’s chagrin, I was as filthy as all the neighborhood boys were.  Dad thought it was a hoot.

Have a happy and safe 4th of July!

Skunky? Here are some odor removal formulas.

 

  Clipart - animal, skunk,  stink, stinky,  trade, cartoon.  fotosearch - search  clipart, illustration,  drawings and vector  eps graphics images

 

My friend in OK sent me her skunk out formula.  Her Husband is a cop and she’s mentioned in the past that this formula also gets rid of that decaying dead body odor…

1 lb box baking soda, 16 oz hydrogen peroxide, 3/4 cup gentle shampoo, 1/4 cup liquid dish soap like dawn or joy.  Mix and use immediately.  Something in it evaporates off so you can’t mix it and store it.

MJ sent me her formula which is white vinegar and peroxide for those who are sensitive to shampoos and/or Dawn dish soap.

Then there is a commercial product put out by the people who make Nature’s Miracle, Nature’s Miracle Skunk Odor remover and it’s available at most retail pet stores.

By the way, Nature’s Miracle is great for getting rid of blood stains, and pet odors and stains.

A skunk by any other name still stinks

 

     Mr. Skunk, Mr. Polecat, or (my mother’s favorite name for the darned things), Mr. Sachet Kitty is back. 

     Somewhere out there he’d let loose and the stench drifted into the house.  EW!  Dear Hubby and I both jumped up from our chairs, he ran to close the front door (short run of three steps), and I dashed to the back of the house to close the back door.  Out came the pet odor deodorizing spray and I lit some incense. 

     At least Mr. Skunk hadn’t let loose because of our dogs or me being outside.  Last time it was too close a call for me.  Our only hope is that he moves on—which I doubt will happen, or a car hits him—hopefully on the far side of the neighborhood.  I know that sounds nasty but I don’t want him back in my yard again.  I have two dogs that have no fear when it comes to chasing a strange critter. 

     My neighbor’s Standard Poodle would also chase it down.  I’m certain she’d not enjoy having a stinky dog leap into her bed.  Surprise Mom! 

     Then there are the two tiny dogs next door the smaller of the two has no fear either.  Little Demonica…er Angelica is less than half the skunk’s size but has the temperament of a Doberman when it comes to protecting what’s hers.  This includes anything she can see from her yard including my yard, the alley, and the street out front. 

     Which reminds me,  just in case one these dogs meets Mr. Skunk, I’ll have to E-mail a friend of mine for her skunk out formula.