Pack of Two

I'm sad because my brother who turns 50 years old this week has been diagnosed with Parkinson's disease. He said he was watching the movie Love and Other Drugs and that is how he diagnosed his condition. He has been going to the VA for different appointments with different specialists. He met with a neurologist who gave him the same diagnosis. Parkinson's.

Me and my peeps

When Bella and I went to the beach on Saturday, we were verbally accosted by a woman with a English bulldog on a leash. Bella attempted her usual cheerful Corgi greeting and Bella's greeting backfired BIG TIME. The woman hit me with a flurry of cuss words that in all my 55 years combined, I've never heard 'em all. I won't repeat them but will attempt a sort of recipe you too can follow when greeted by a corgi. First off,  use your imagination, considering the swear word possibilities. Begin with a loud shrieking bale starting with "You gawdamn blankety blank blank c*nt!" Then add the worst words you could call someone --- c*nt! unleash (pun!) a string of random name-calling Banshee wailing. Toss in words like 'stupid' and then add special phrases such as "What the eff is WRONG with you?"Add more screaming, tantrum-throwing, 30-something, short stocky woman, dragging her leashed bulldog, and quietly embarrassed husband, along for a lovely ocean stroll in the warm winter sun with tons of dogs and owners around, ranting at top lung power about *MY* being out of control. She screamed at me, "You think this is funny but you won't when my dog eats your dog!" And I said very softly, "I'm surprised you didn't eat her." That was pretty much all I said through the entire chaotic moment except when I bent over to pick up Bella, I asked the woman's husband if he could get some control of her?


The insanity ended with a final "I'm going to f*ck you up!"

I felt like I was in a gang. A gang of two. Later I realized that woman must have been really fearful. I couldn't think of any other rationale for her behavior because it sure as sh*t had nothing to do with me and my corgster, Bellybutton. 

Gib Me Sum Sugah

Last week I went to Costco for a few things - 1000 rolls of toilet paper and a triple pack of Pledge. On my way home I realized this triple pack could be my very last triple pack of Pledge that I buy in this lifetime. I'm not much of a duster and decided that a triple pack of Pledge would inspire me to dust rather than dust inspiring me to dust. I'm hoping that in my next life, when living in my mansion I won't have to buy Pledge or triple packs of anything though I also hope that in my next life I don't return as a particle of dust.


Bella and I went to the beach both days this weekend and didn't meet any doctors (that I could tell just by looking) (yet) though I met Peggy who told me she's 76 (and looks to be mid-60s). She owns a 7 month old Tibetan Terrier who's added "tremendous joy to [her] life."  Sunday I met Cathy who owns a corgi-humping mutt named Rufus. We had fun - mostly though I had to bathe Bella when we got home. Those humpers are really disgusting.


At Rio Del Mar, Bella still freaks about the hang-gliders so I have to watch out for them - springing off the cliffs, hovering over us, looming large and freakish, ready to attack my precious, frightened corg-ster. She hates kites too, and after a few vicious hang-gliders, she becomes suspicious of seagulls. One really can't avoid a seagull at the sea - I mean it's their main hang-out next to the parking lot at a ball game (where my friend Lib once killed a seagull by tossing it a gherkin). If the hang-gliders suddenly appear, Bella takes off down the beach like a rocket (on short legs) in the opposite direction (of me). Everyone watching on the beach most likely assumes I have beaten her while I shout "SHE'S NOT MY DOG!" as I chase after her.

Bella hurt herself running around, trying to herd all the other dogs. Today she's limping except when my sister took her for a walk - she appeared to be cured. Though as soon as she saw me again, the limp miraculously returned.

Late Sunday afternoon, Bradley came for a "bisit." He asked if we could go on a dwive on da woad to see the bon (barn) and the dinosaurs. First we went to the bon, as we drove by Bradley yelled out "Bye bye, bon, hope you don't get too skarwed." Then we drove to bisit the dinosaurs but some people were out there already bisiting the dinosaurs so Bradley yelled something about a Tyrannosaurus rex and roared at the bisitors outside the car window. 

Guess who should be inside the fenced area?

I decided to drive to nearby Summit store and buy Bradley an ice cream because a 2.5 year old needs more sugar. In the store parking lot there was a woman and a young girl yelling, "OMG it's a corgi!!" (Corgi-cheerleaders!) We left the corgi in the car and walked into the store and found the woman who screamed out OMGaCorgi! Bradley started yammering to the young girl about the dinosaurs, the dinosaurs egg, the baby dinosaur and the pterodactyl all the while the girl was looking at him, mouth agape. He w/could not shut up. Then he started jumping up and down which I think is OCD behavior. - He jumps up and down a lot. I. mean. a. lot! I'm not sure he can be stopped from jumping up and down or  talking about the dinosaurs to strangers. Finally the OMGaCorgi woman realized she had a life and a daughter who was in shock, and they left Bradley and I standing in the frozen food aisle, jumping up and down, talking about pterodactyls and dinosaur eggs and roaring. We picked out ice creams (3 of them) and walked towards the cash register where Bradley, for good measure, tossed in a Cadbury egg because even though we've not endured the full brunt of Valentine's Day with it's hearts and candy and flowers and Valentine cards and the billion commercials about all those things to purchase to make a person's life momentarily spectacular, and if-you-don't-have-a-date-you're-a-loser-so-face-it, it's Easter already and a two & a half year old boy can't get enough sugar, bons or dinosaurs.

Not a Cadbury

Party Time

Modeling my niece's prom dress.
Will someone please ask me to the prom? 

As a part of the Living Life Well, I've been busy living my life well instead of writing. Though I need to set some time aside to bore you with my tomes. I should have made this my resolution for 2012. 
I'm grateful that I didn't. 


Part of living life well includes enjoying my pets. My cat and Bella are in cahoots. The cat visits her litter-box. Bella watches the cat "litter." The cat howls (like she does all night long, every night - for hours on end ever since I had her diabetic sister-kitty put to sleep a few years ago) and jumps out of the box having done her "doody." Bella clamors like a short-legged corgi inside the litter-box, tosses the cat poop out onto the carpet in a scattering -- like a tray of horses-doovers at a classy party. Then in place of the poop, resting  just so, like it seems to do - on top of the litter, Bella leaves a Made in China chicken jerky treat that we aren't supposed to feed our pets any more because they found out that the Chinese provide most of the chicken in these "treats" but someone found out that the chicken is made out of melamine or something awful and can kill your dog instantly. This cat-poop-jerky trade says a lot about those treats. I mean, when a dog prefers actual animal poo over what passes for purchased food -- the food must. not. be. edible. It's worse than crap.


I attended another neighborhood gathering a week ago. I met new people who's names I will never remember and saw people I've noticed driving down the road for years though rarely  speak with because we live somewhat secludedly which is why we live in these mountains -- so we don't have to see people.


I took a small tray of Trader Joe's mushroom something or others inside a packet of foil because I gave away all my dust-gathering party-type dishes years ago - and foil is so shiny, like a crumpled, shiny party in my palm. When I arrived at the gathering I unfolded the warm foil packet and put the mushroom clumps on a paper plate because paper plates are so papery. My food tribute felt a bit pathetic. I quickly walked away from the table because food isn't important to me (any longer). Plus I was trying not to feel embarrassed by my attempt at "plate-ing" which has become so important in the food industry, nearly as important as the actual food on the plate. I wanted to announce to anyone within sight of my dumping the mushroom wads on the paper plate "Those aren't mine!" Which is similar to what I say about my dog when she runs away from me when I call out her name or she stands in front of the school bus as it attempts the daily drive by my house with all the kids inside screaming "Don't hit the dog!" I say to anyone within distance -- "That's not my dog." Or "This isn't my dog." Or "See that dog way down there on the beach about a mile away? She ran away because she hates those hang-gliders. But she's not my dog. I'm walking her for someone else." 


At the party I  announced, "Those old mushroomy things... I brought those on the suggestion of my dog, who is a food critic, caterer and a big time foodie." 


Enjoy!

BellyJean is Not My Lover

Wow, already January 10th, 11th 2012!? I'm stunned how quickly time passes. Pretty soon it will be next year and I'll be wondering where the year went, writing a boring blog post about how quickly time flies.

Three American Girl dolls.

A few people have inquired about Hannah. Seems our together days are mostly in the past since she now has the wicked stepsisters living with her. Competition is fierce. They all received American Girl dolls for Christmas even though one of the sisters is 17 years old and immediately threw them in a heap on the floor with the rest of their loot. Merry Christmas, baby Jesus! The wicked stepsisters then asked where my gift to them was hiding? I didn't buy them a gift. Well, I bought them Lifesaver® packets because I have no money and Lifesavers® aren't that expensive. But then I gave the Lifesavers® to my neighbor because he had threatened suicide -- plus a pound of coffee! Stay awake and eat! My solution to many of life's problems.

This is the first Christmas I bought Hannah a present - a tiny knitted sweater and pants for her American Girl doll. For some strange reason I've yet to determine, she got the American Girl® wheelchair and crutches kit to go with her doll. As if life isn't difficult enough in reality, now we pretend to be disabled, less-abled, wheel-chair bound with our dolls? I don't get it. What ever happened to Barbie, her three wigs, the Corvette and the hot-tub? Maybe to some those items might seem like disabilities, however, those are the kinds of perks with which I might fantasize. Not a wheelchair. Give me the American Girl doll with lymphedema in both legs and a cancer- filled uterus in a bucket next to the hospital bed any day over perfection. Give me the American Girl doll who is HIV positive.

Two American girl dolls and their ticks

Yesterday Hannah came over to the office and laid in Bella's dog bed with Bella (reluctantly) on her lap. A not so subtle note to The Reptilian race -- because the global warming is real, I've been pulling ticks off of Bella, right and left. I'm sure the dog bed has its share of ticks too. We've had a very warm winter so far without rain. Last year I remember whining about everything the rain because it seemed to never stop. This year every weekend, Bella and I go to the beach, both days. (We have no life.) The sky is blue, - sun, warm and lots of stinking animal carcasses for Bella to wiggle inside. She is my flower blossom! With all the carcasses on the beach now, I predict in 20 years or so, we won't refer to the beach as the beach because the beach as we have known it will be covered with bones, feathers, and other miscellaneous body parts which as a scientist I must inform you  -  are the basic ingredients in sand.

 

Last week Bradley said to me, "Do you have any belly-jeans?"  I immediately felt defensive because I thought he was making fun of my pants (aka mom jeans) when all he wanted was some candy.

The Promise

One of my most fave things to do with Bradley other than wrestle with him is to go for a drive on the woad (as he says.) We load up Bella (who would rather skip it) and with Bradley sitting on my lap, we go for our drive. Below is a video where I make him promise me not to drive like a maniac.




If you see us coming, stay off the woad!

See? I Told You

Through all the ancestry work I've been doing the past many months, ancestry and history with which I've become addicted -- I've discovered a tragedy. Since this discovery I've felt crushed, however, I imagine that I will survive (until I croak).


I am related to Jacob See. Jacob was my second great grand uncle. He spent a few years in San Quentin for sheep rustling back in the days of yore. He ran for sheriff after getting out of prison. That takes some kind of nerve though politically, this path is on par.

Jake See - he was as colorful as his past

But, and it nearly makes me weep as I write this...I am not related to Mary See of See's Candy fame (and fortune!). Rumor has it that she came to this country from Canada. (BL!!!)




So see? Mary See is nothing to me. And although I have been a huge (both in girth and enthusiasm) advocate of her wondrous candy goodness my entire life -- ever since having had WLS the thought of eating that candy kind of makes me want to RALPH. And that makes me sad. Alas I'll choose to suffer occasionally in order to keep peace between our countries.

Traitor!

The Best Gift of All

Last night I got everyone on my Christmas list the same gift. The idea came to me in a flash. I felt the idea was just this side of genius.


I had my eyebrows, chin hairs and nose hairs waxed so anyone with any kind of eyesight won't have to feel as if they are watching a Bravo reality show about hunting for Yeti when they see me on Christmas day.


This gift cost $36.00 plus a tip. I was generous with the tip too. This time of year I find myself feeling more compassion. I give a lot of thought to the gifts that benefit the most recipients while still keeping finances in check.