Clearing Obstacles

The rain has stopped for the time being though not before there was plenty of damage to Scotts Valley, Capitola and surrounding areas. The sun is out and the weather-folk say the air should warm to high 70s by the end of this week. I'm grateful for this glorious sunshine.


Sunday we walked at the cement boat beach (Seacliff) and climbed among the logs, trees and tires that had either washed up on the shore or washed down off the mountain. I spent some time wondering whether it was possible for a whole tree to swim down a creek (it must have at some point) or float onto the shore from somewhere off at sea. The amount of trash that had washed onto the beach should not surprise me though it always does. I expect one day to discover a body in that mess. That should be an interesting day unless the body is mine.


Bella has become filthy from the mud so much so that she has natural gray-colored ring around her collar. I've had her groomed several times this winter though she never stayed clean for over an hour or so. There's something not so great about owning being a short dog in relentless rain storms except Bella loves the water and the rain doesn't seem to bother her. She hits puddles full force; leaping and bounding through creeks. She waits hopefully in the foamy froth at the ocean's edge knowing some day she'll be swept out to sea on the next wave on to her next watery adventure.

Since I've lost (so much) weight, have loads of energy and less body to lug around I'm spending time hanging out in the forest behind my house. There's a steep hill leading down a path covered with branches and forest debris although I've been clearing the downed branches and attempting to keep the scotch broom off my property completely, which entails secretly hacking down scotch broom from other people's property too mostly because it reseeds on a light breeze. Do you suppose my neighbors mind if I hack out their thistles while I'm at it? One thistle head is worth 20 thousand seeds/plants. Each time I heave a branch off of the side of the trail, Bella thinks I'm playing her favorite go fetch game and chases after the branch. A good many of those branches could be the death of her. I try to be extra careful but she is a nutjob.


When my husband was alive, he spent hours in the forest often cutting fire wood though there were times I didn't hear the chain saw and he's still be gone for hours. He seemed to appreciate the forest for the trees while I was too fat to get up and down the hill, refusing to   walk down that steep hill except for possibly 2 - 3 times in 15 years, each time the labored hike back up to the house, wishing to be air-lifted (but by what!?) in order to get back home, flop down on the couch and praise haysus that I was still alive after my contribution to this feat of human endurance and suffering, and then feast on a box of See's.

Weighing much less now, I sprint up and down the trail, tossing logs and branches off the side, clearing rock, reshaping a place my husband held dear; a contemplative (when not employing the use of the chain saw) time in the forest. Bella exhausted, heaving a breathing drama - her short-lived burnout caused in part by petite legs and quite possibly an occasional klunk to the side of her head from a tossed tree limb.


It's safe to say we are both filled with gratitude that the rains have stopped.

Waiting for a Flood

I am praying for the rain to stop. It has been a disaster around here the past few days though like any disaster, it's relative. I had an appointment in town yesterday that I'd wanted to cancel because if there's one thing I'm afraid of in this world other than being served meatloaf at a dinner party, it's driving around in (what I deem) treacherous conditions in a car that's low to the ground as opposed to the non-existent Jeep Grand Cherokee that I will never own. I get into my VW, immediately strengthening a nebulous belief in a supreme being, and drive down the driveway into a flood of mud and brown rain water shooting down in torrents from, I think, highway 17. I made it easily to Scotts Valley, when I get a phone call that the appointment has been cancelled because they have no electricity. I drive to the store, grab a couple of items, get back into the VW and drive back up the hill toward work. I want to pick-up Bella and get home asap. 

When I got nearby work, Angie, a close neighbor and friend was standing in the middle of the road holding herself up with some sort of sticklikething or maybe a shovel without the shove part. She highly recommended I not drive back up the hill due to fallen debris, boulders, bricks, dog-poop etc. though I was really anxious to pick up Bella. Angie offered rain-boots but since I have huge feet, I had to politely refuse, plus with compression garments under my pants, well, it's just really icky to be so inconvenienced and wetted by wet weather. I asked Angie to drive me up the hill in her truck but she was too afraid. A couple of years ago she drove off the side of the mountain and still hasn't recovered mentally (which probably helps explain why she was standing in the middle of a deluge of rock, mud, water and doggie fecal matter with a pole in her hand.) Then Angie offered to walk up the hill in the flood and debris and pick up Bella. When she came walking back about 45 minutes later, she was carrying Bella in her arms because if she had let Bella walk, Bella would have floated away. But Bella really loves the water so she would have been happy.

The 2nd photo shows another neighbor who owns vicious poodles. He and his wife live in a trailer in the shade. He keeps an old broken-down Fiat parked in the rain under a wet blanket. He paid a fortune for his property at the height of the market and now he probably can't sell it for a buck. His trailer area smells like the county needs to come out and condemn the place. Strange material mixes with mud and rainwater comes primarily from his dogs because my Bella is a sweet little lamb who only poops inside of black recyclable bags while the two poodles poo in poo-dle piles. In the photo I blurred this guy's face because he's wearing crocs but one good thing about crocs is with the holes, they allow for the free-flow of flood waters and around here lately, that's an excellent idea.

Into Each Life Some Rain Must Fall

Fallen twig

We had a big, bad ole rain storm over this past weekend. Saturday night, just when I was getting maximum comfy on my thumper-pedic, a redwood tree branch crashed into the roof just above my head making a horrific scary noise, causing the house to shake. The next morning I was wondering if that branch floated gently down to the roof like a butterfly taking wing from a flower or if the branch charged, dagger-like trying to make me into human shish kebob?  Wouldn't that be a hoot if they found me stabbed into my bed by a tree branch? Whenever we're going to have a big bad ole storm, I get philosophical about trees landing on me. Please land on my head and not just my foot or my leg. That is my big wish in life. Make this tree falling in the forest my final act.

Deck with crashed tree branches

On Sunday while Bella and I were strutting our stuff at the blue ball park track, off in the distance a child innocently attempted to fly a kite in-between frequent storms. This was Bella's very first kite sighting so she went completely insane, pulling and tugging at the leash, acting like she saw the infamous corgi slasher murderer. I could not get her to calm down so like any well-trained dog owner, I picked her up and carried her to the car all the while her clawing to get further away from the corgi-assassin kite. Once inside the car, Bella calmed somewhat though she was still shaking from her initiation of this harbinger of springtime splendor. 


When that branch crashed into the roof, Bella didn't even make a woof.

I've mentioned Bradley. Well, he is my new personal trainer. Every time he sees me, he says he wants to go on a walk. Then he holds my finger which he says is "too cold." ("Pull my finger, Bradley!") We originally started our walks with Bella though when a car (beep, beep) passes Bella (woof, woof) moves into a corgi frenzy, and becomes difficult to control unless you think controlling a corgi who's spinning at the end of a leash *is* control. I can't risk injury to a 2 year old or a 55 year old. At 20 lbs, Bella's two big handfuls of attack corgi and she has been brought to this earth to ensure that cars either go the speed limit  on our road which is zero MPH, or said cars clear out all together. 


In this photo Bradley is wearing a fashionable froggy raincoat (inside my house, go figure. I think it's his way of waiting for the next tree branch to float out of the sky). 


Bradley's birthday is today. He turns two years old. 

Do Not Disturb - Turkeys at Work

I haven't written lately because I've been very bored busy stuffing envelopes developing a marketing campaign at work.


Bella is fine. She had a sanitary trim which I think is another name for a doggie Brazilian. On the other hand, I did not have a sanitary trim though I did have my nose hairs waxed again. I highly recommend this if you've a hairy nose. The 23-year-old esthetician told me that many of the middle-aged men who come in for their troll-doll ears and nose hairs to be waxed ask her if she is married? We had a good laugh over that one. How is it that as some men age, they become as transparent as their skin?

Marketing Meeting - Hold our calls!

Hannah is fine. We saw turkeys at work. I took photos. She told me she was not afraid of them anymore but then she asked if she got close, would they bite her? I dunno. I think they'll bite. I've seen those turkey attack videos on youtube. Remember when Hannah was traumatized by watching the turkey chase her grandmother around the Prius -- which I understand we may have trouble purchasing in future due to the tsunami. I feel so awful for those folks in Japan. I can't believe no one has blamed the earthquake, resulting tsunami and pending nuclear disaster on the gays yet. Maybe by the end of this week...I hear some of the radiation will be hitting California some time tomorrow. No doubt radiation will be strongest in Hollywood where those free-thinking, left-wingers live.


Soon I'll be writing about Bradley who will turn 2 years old on March 22. He's a red, curly-headed cutie pie who loves me. I can just tell. Mostly his conversation revolves around "Why" so I tell him why and he says "why" and we go around in circles which is similar to a lot of conversations I've had win past relationships. I don't mind conversing with Bradley. I still have time to change him.


I have to get back to my envelope stuffing marketing meeting. I need to get the time to write more posts and have the time to comment on your posts this campaign off the ground soon. 

No Country for Old Fat Ladies

The big b-day is over. I went out to lunch with a friend to Jia Tella in Scotts Valley. Got back to work to find Hannah with her mom, the wicked step-sisters and my fave cake from The Buttery. Had a tiny piece. Was completely grossed out so I had a 2nd tiny piece to make sure it was the cake that made me sick. Sure thing - it was! The wicked step-sisters complained non-stop about the cake too. They don't like lemon curd. They don't like poppy seeds. They don't like cake. They don't like frosting. What's this weird frosting stuff? We can't eat this! Why does Hannah get to hold Bella? Why didn't you buy chocolate? Why is Hannah alive? We need to buy Jan some new glasses instead of a cake for her birthday. Her glasses are crooked and cheap looking on her face. Look at how funny she looks! Why is Jan still alive?


When I arrived home, the front door of my house was decorated with balloons and a package of home-made, decorated cupcakes. The decorating/baking culprit was my son's girlfriend. I was completely blown-away mostly because when I backed into my driveway, I sat in my car for a few minutes and at some point, turned around and saw this door covered in celebratory stuff. I hardly know this young woman (she is afraid of me) and this was really a thoughtful way to help me feel celebrated. Too bad it was a complete (almost) stranger but hey, I'll take it where I can get it. 


A good friend sent me a birthday card that read Happy F*cking Birthday only there was no asterisk. The sentiment made me smile. Thanks, Lib!

There's an article in the L.A. Times today called 'Obesity: 'Like the new smoking'. If you're still chubby or thinking of eating that last hunk of birthday cake, you might want to read the article first. One tidbit the item states is "the death rate from uterine (endometrial) cancer was 525% higher for very, very obese women than for women of healthy weight." I did not even know we could have percentages in the 500 range but then I was never any good at math. When I was fat(ter) I had uterine cancer and that diagnosis was 4 years ago now. That means I had (and probably still have) a 525% chance of croaking of uterine cancer over a skinny woman. If that fatoid factoid doesn't make you want to lose some poundage, I don't know what will. Oh, wait! I know what will. Gastric bypass or maybe you can employ the Duck tape diet or you might want to wait until you're dying of cancer because cancer will help you lose weight near the end when you can't eat any longer because you know you're dying and eating becomes pretty pointless when you know you're going to be dead soon. I know this from watching Greg die. He stopped eating in August and died in October. He didn't eat for almost two months. When you think about it, that's kind of a diet though I am not sure of there's the quality of life in that diet that some people seem to selfishly crave.


Enjoy the photos (and be jealous) of the pretty home-made cupcakes (because that's as close as you'll ever get to them). Admire my b-day decorated door which I've decided to leave on display permanently, until the streamers rot into bits of slime muddling colors on the doorstep where I'll   smear (what will look like dog-poop stains) on my carpet when I walk into the front door some years from now. When my neighbors walk by the house and notice the decorations, they can ask with enthusiasm "Hey, I didn't know it was your birthday!?" and I can say, "Yes, it was my birthday in early March 2011." (Also in early March 1965 and early March 1960 and so on.)


In the photos, please ignore the lovely pink propane bill laying ever so discreetly upon the doorstep courtesy of Mr. Propane Man, (who's about as sensitive a birthday gift-giver as most of the men I've known), the spiderwebs and other assorted door filth, and the assorted red-ish paint colors with which I've been trying to decide over the past few years to paint my door. 


Under no circumstances should you ignore Bella, my vicious attack corgi. She was really eye-balling those cupcakes though she abstains (mostly because she's a very picky eater, Thank Haysus!). We watch her girlish figure with a staunch desire to keep any obesity and cancer stats below 525% unlike someone she knows. Plus we can't afford one of those custom corgi wheel-chairs made out of plywood and used roller skate wheels that you have to tie the dog's belly into. We are working on a top secret prototype for other chubster (not my Bella) dogs. 

Thank you for all the good wishes!

An Impromptu Birthday "Wrap"

First thing out the door
I grabbed poison oak.
Thought it was a stick.
Eyesight is broke.
My face and head itches.
You bitches!


When you reach 55 - be glad you're alive.
Now shut up.

Tutti Frutti

My birthday is coming up. I'll be more than half 100 years old and almost exactly half of 102.5 years old. Because my sister will be spending most of this month celebrating her SIL's birthday, she wanted to do something special for me. We are taking me out this weekend for some pre-birthday fun. The remainder of the month belongs to SIL, Vegas baby! They do a lot of "celebrating." I am mostly jealous. They already have several cruises and vacations lined up for the year. I think my sister's 2011 calendar resembles a chess board more than a calender.


We're going wine tasting and may(!?) get some food. We'll visit Storrs, Bonny Doon and Bargetto though there are numerous wineries much closer to home. I even have a winery within walking distance if I'm drunk enough. I'll drop Bella at the boarding/training, GITMO.

I took Bella to be bathed late yesterday. When I picked her up, she looked angelic and smelled of strange smells. They sprayed her with cherry-vanilla flavoring or perfume. It was a free service. I don't really like perfumes. I can't use perfumed clothes soap because it makes me sick to smell it on my clothing. I think it's chemo fallout though I'm not 100% sure. I don't understand why they sprayed my dog with this smell. If I wanted to smell cherry vanilla, I would have never gotten a dog. 

This morning on our early walk, Bella rolled in something dead on the road (squirrel, bat, deer). Now she looks like she's wearing a special kind of collar only it's a collar made of animal parts, blood and sinews, tendons. She smells like cherry vanilla and dead carcass. She smells like a dog.