A blog about "nothing"!

Saturday, November 29, 2008

Winter is Here!!

We've had a lot of snow already, it seems way too early. Luckily Lee thought to fill the bird feeders just in the nick of time, we've had a lot of activity since the snow. This little nuthatch was hanging out on Thanksgiving day, they are hard to photograph because they are so darned quick!



Sunday, November 9, 2008

I Love You To the Moon and Back

It's been a tough week around our house this week. We had to make the difficult decision to have our dog put down. He was 12 and had cancer, a very rapidly progressing type which made it even more difficult because we had only 2 weeks to deal with it all. In the past when we had pets put down, we always had another one to lavish the love and affection on during our period of grieving. This time we didn't, and I can't even describe the pit I've had in my stomach for the past week.

I got my first dog when I was 28. My parents wouldn't let me have a dog as a kid because of my various allergies and they were afraid that it would be another pet that we would have to find a new home for once the itching and sneezing started. Hattrick aka Tricky-Woo showed up on our doorstep in November of 1992, and wiggled her way quickly into our hearts. I had just come home from the grocery store and heard this noise at our door that I assumed was the neighbors cat who had adopted us. Lee looked out the window and said "hey, check out this puppy out here!" When I looked, my reply was "that is no puppy, that's a moose!" We thought she was chestnut brown, but a bath and a very dirty bathtub later, we found out she was a lovely, golden color. We asked around the neighborhood to see if anyone knew who she belonged to, only to find out that she had been wandering around the other end of our road for roughly two weeks. We ran ads in the paper, posted signs with her picture all over and all we got were a couple of phone calls confirming that she wasn't the dog they were looking for. We finally came to he decision that if no one claimed her by the new year, we would just keep her. When we had her put down 2 years ago, she was 14 years old, and had given us plenty to laugh and smile about. I still laugh when I think about how she used to wiggle her way up against one of us in bed, or when I remember nicknaming her "Tricky Flatley" one day after she did this little dance trying to get her point across to me that she wanted to go outside. She was a character.

Gilligan came in to our life in November 1996. It had been a very difficult time for us as my sister had become very ill and in addition to taking care of her business and medical affairs, we had to move her youngest son in with us. We had been thinking about getting a second dog before all this had happened and decided that it would be a good opportunity for Matt to learn about the reponsibilities involved in having a puppy. I'm sure our friends thought we were crazy, my theory was that come June everything would be simple, my sister would be much better, Matt would be able to move back home and the puppy would be well on the way to being an adult dog. I can't tell you what a great pick-me-up coming home to a puppy was after being at the hospital with my sister, seeing all those people who wouldn't recover.

When we had Trick put down, we were very concerned how Gilligan was going to take this as she had been a part of his life since he came home with us. He seemed a little down, but he eventually bounced back, reveling in his only fur-child status. And I swear that when she knew she wasn't coming back, she whispered in his ear that he needed to take up snoring. She snored like a chainsaw and all of a sudden he started, something that he'd never done before. Maybe that was her little sign to us.

In December of last year we came back from vacation to discover that he hadn't been himself while we were gone. After several trips to the vet, it was discovered that he had diabetes. I remember thinking "how in the world am I going to give a shot to a dog?" It turned out to be much easier than I thought because he was such a sweetheart. He responded very well to the medication and in no time at all, he was back to his old, sock-stealing self. He was showing signs of age, but nothing that indicated that the worst was yet to come. In August he had to have a tooth removed and the vet discovered a piece of suspicious stuff that she removed and sent out for tests. We were relieved when everything came out negative, but that relief was short lived. Shortly after coming home from Florida last month, something went horribly wrong. Even the vet was in disbelief at how quickly the cancer had spread, even going over the pathology reports to see if she missed something. Suddenly we found ourselves in the position of making a decision that neither of us wanted to make, but knew we had to.

The past few days have been spent remembering all his little funny habits. I remember the day we brought him home like it was yesterday, holding him in my arms the whole way home from Ohio. Lee crawling on the floor and barking at him as a puppy and later as an adult dog (I guess I am the apha dog in this house!). Him stealing my friends gloves one day when she stopped by for a visit. His love of sticks. And most of all that kind, warm face that used to come over and nudge a hand when he wanted petted.

Last week if you had asked me if we would have another dog, my answer would have been no, probably not. But over the past few days I've come to realize what a big part of our lives these two furry creatures have been. We've done a lot of talking about what kind of dog we'd want, and the things we would do differently this time around. I've even contacted a local club for one of the breeds we are considering so we can be sure that we aren't getting in over our heads. It won't be right away, but come spring there will more than likely be the sound of little paws running through our house again. In the meantime I wil cherish the memories I have of the two of them, and only hope that they loved us as much as we loved them. To Trick and Gill, I hope you know that we love you to the moon and back, even if you aren't with us anymore. I know when you think that we are ready, you'll send us the right puppy ;)

Saturday, November 1, 2008

Where Everybody Knows Your Name

Yes, I've been MIA on my blog for a while. It's been a busy couple of months, but now that the weather is turning colder, I hope to have more time to write. What's new? Not a lot. We went on vacation, I sprained my ankle, we had a bad windstorm thanks to hurricane Ike. Oh, and a bar opened in the town I work in.

Now to most people in most places, that wouldn't seem like anything major, but in the town I work in, that's a BIG deal. You have to keep in mind that it's a very conservative Christian town, with a small, very conservative Christian college that tends to dictate what goes on. It has been dry as long as I can remember, with the exception being a couple fraternal organizations that were allowed to serve alcohol. That all changed last year when a petition was drawn up to get a referrendum put on the ballot. It was interesting to see how it all unfolded, neighbors against neighbors, rantings in the local "letters to the editor" section of the paper. When all was said and done, it passed, much to the surprise of everyone. Of course then all the rumors started about who was going to get the first liquor license and such. Finally two guys were announced to have it and work began on their bar/restaurant. Many hours of work later, they were ready to open, but in the meantime the grumblings had started about how it was going to turn our little hamlet in to a place with a bad reputation. I just chuckled and rolled my eyes.

My experience in a bar started very young. My dad used to take me when I was little (6 or 7) with him to his local hang out once in a while. It was an old bar a few miles from our house that everyone called the Shandagan. Never mind the fact that it hadn't been the name for years, that's what everyone remembered it as from years past. It was actually called Jack's Place after the owner, Jack Parker. Along with his wife Madeline, they made everyone feel welcome, including me. I don't remember seeing anything illicit, no fights broke out, no wild women came walking in. About the only strange thing I remember is reading the sign "No Minors Served" and being very confused about why they wouldn't serve coal miners (admit it, you've had moments like that too!). I sat there at the bar with my dad, while he and the others discussed the worlds problems over a beer. I always had a ginger ale with Snyder's potato chips, once in a while a Hershey Bar. To this day I can't eat Snyder's potato chips without thinking of ginger ale.

Now I'm sure there are people thinking "how terrible that he took a kid to a bar!" I don't feel that way at all. I was never in any danger and Madeline always made me feel very special. I'm not in therapy for anything that happened when I was there. To me it was time spent as father and daughter, and I looked forward to getting to do that. In fact, I remember reading the obituary in the paper when Madeline Parker died, and being a little sad that a part of my childhood, albeit small, was gone.

I don't know why everyone assumes that a bar is a bad place. For some it's a refuge, a place to unwind. In England the local pub is the focal point of the community, the meeting place for the residents. No one thinks ill of the pub or it's patrons because most everyone goes there. You can even take your dog with you. And we certainly don't think badly of places like Applebees, Olive Garden or Longhorn Steakhouse, all places who serve alcohol and have bars in them. I guess because their primary focus is on the food, we tend to overlook that little detail.

The Shandagan is still there on the corner where it's been all these years. I haven't been in it as an adult, and I don't even know the name of it anymore. I'm sure it has it's regulars though, and I'm sure in time, our new little bar in town will have them too. I wish them lots of luck and I'm sure if they don't succeed, they won't be the last to try. I haven't been there yet, but maybe I'll stop by and see if they have ginger ale and Snyder's chips. And maybe, just maybe, those naysayers will see that a bar isn't necessarily a bad thing.

Saturday, July 12, 2008

Planes, Trains and Automobiles

Travel season is upon us, and along with it, travel horror stories. This thought has come to mind because a friend recently returned from a not so great vacation, I can certainly feel for her. I think everyone has had at least one bad travel experience in their lifetime, and if they haven't, lucky them! When I think of my own bad trips, a trip to Virginia comes to mind. Before it was over with I had an allergic reaction to something, thought I'd lost my keys, and we ran out of gas 15 minutes from home--ugh! My first experience flying wasn't all that great either, my boss and I had overslept due to our alarm clock not going off, and after running like O. J. Simpson through the airport to catch our plane, didn't get to take off because the airplane equivalent to the oil light coming on happened. We went back to the terminal, and while we sat on the plane waiting for the crew to decide what to do with all of us, I look over at another plane that was also supposed to be heading to NYC 15 minutes after we did, and they can't get the door shut on it. So there we sat, two planes full of people, NOT going to NYC, several missing connecting flights-it was not a pretty scene. We finally did get another plane for the 30 or so of us that were left that they hadn't re-routed at that point, only to have it be an extremely bumpy ride, the flight attendant screamed and three people threw up before it was over with. 5 overseas flights since then, and I have yet to see someone throw up!

I think the award for the worst travel experience goes to my friend's former boss. Don decided to take his wife and two children on a family vacation, something they didn't do often. Their destination was only about an hour and a half from home, should be simple--yeah right!!! They were almost there when the car broke down. They had the car towed to a garage not far from the motel, and were told it would be ready in a day or so. No biggie, they could work around this, and the good part was that they could actually see the motel just a little ways down the street, across the road. Shouldn't be too bad as far as getting the kids and the luggage there--WRONG!!! The road was one that you couldn't cross just anywhere, and the nearest crossover was about a mile down the road. So with kids, luggage and whatever else they had in tow, they started walking and eventually got there, a little worse for wear. This was not going to ruin the trip. They did get the car back in a reasonable amount of time and for the most part were able to continue with their plans. There were some minor issues here and there, but nothing horrible, until a couple nights in to the trip when the fire alarms went off at the motel in the middle of the night! Everyone poured out in to the parking lot while the fire department showed up, and Don and his wife spent most of their time convincing their daughter that if her new tennis shoes burned up in the fire, they would buy her new ones. In the morning, Don decided he'd had enough of this whole trip and they were going home early. They packed all their stuff in the car and headed home. The fun was just beginning.

As they were heading down the road, they got behind a truck carrying a mattress. Don didn't give it a second thought (isn't hindsight great?!) and followed behind at a normal pace. All of a sudden the mattress slides off the back of the truck, and before Don could get his car stopped, he drives up on to the mattress and gets stuck. To make matters even worse, the vehicle carrying the mattress doesn't stop! Don gets out to see if he can figure out how to get the car off the mattress, but realizes he can't do it by himself, so now what? In the meantime, someone must have seen what had happpened and called for help because just then a state police car pulls up, the officer gets out and says................................"Is this your mattress?" By this point Don's wife has about had it with all the things that have gone wrong and says to the officer (in a rather sarcastic tone) "yes, we always drive with a mattress strapped to the BOTTOM of our car!" At this point Don explains to the officer what had happened and starts giving him a statement. As they are doing this, the truck that started this fiasco drives down the other side of the highway! He doesn't stop though, I sure hope the police caught up with him further down the road. Don finishes giving his statement, when he and the officer realize that they smell something burning--the exhaust system of the car is igniting the mattress! They do manage to get the car pushed off the mattress before anything horrible happens. The silver lining to this story--Don said that it was actually kind of interesting, it burnt a perfect image of the exhaust system on it and he knew where all the holes were that needed repaired.

So, as all of you head out on your summer travels, think of Don, and count your blessings. And beware of trucks hauling mattresses!

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

Big Damned Bugs

I'm not a bug person. Especially larger bugs. I've got a definite issue with spiders over a certain size, no chance of a tarantula as a pet in this house anytime soon. Rodents I don't give a thought to, in fact I've been known to play with a couple that have gotten in to our house (much to my husband's dismay). Keep those bugs out of here though!

Last week my co-worker Becky comes over to my desk with these two Ziploc bags and says "what do you think these are?" I'm not normally a squeamish person, grew up in dairy farm country, have watched chickens being butchered, have smelled the aroma of organic fertilizer, but when the realization that "they" were two really big bugs hit me, I about gagged on my Rice Krispie cookie. We're not talking big like horse fly big--these things looked like walnut shells with legs. Big, fat, roundish bugs--and then the ultimate, they had egg type things coming out of which Becky told me came out when they stepped on them--oh yuck!!!

I had absolutely no idea what they were, my first thought was a roach of some sort, but too round, then I looked up cicadas, wrong year for this area. I told her to take them to see Fran, another co-worker who gardens a lot. I could hear them discussing them when I heard a scream, and saw the bag airborne. Apparently one of them was still alive after being stepped on AND spending all night in the Ziploc bag, he wiggled a leg. These were bugs to be reckoned with.

We asked around to several people we work with who we thought might have enough expertise to identify them, only to get a lot of "I don't know's". It was time to bring in the big guns. My friend Maureen is very in to gardening and her husband Terry (aka T. C.) is very knowledgeable to the extent of writing a gardening column for the local paper. I decided to call him. I told him we had these large bugs we couldn't identify and I could immediately hear the excitement in is voice. He wanted to know when we would be going to lunch so he could get further details from Becky. These were bugs he wanted to see!

Anyone who watches CSI knows how Grissom is with bugs. This was like having Grissom in person. He played with the bugs, he photographed them, he compared them to pictures in his bug book, he took notes, he asked Becky a zillion questions. When it was all over with, he asked Becky if he could have them. "Uh, yeah, they are ALL yours". Turns out our bug "buddies" were a ground beetle which isn't dangerous, actually good for the environment (okay Becky, no more pouring gas in a hole and lighting it!) and the eggs he suspected were layed on them by another bug, they were only serving as hosts for their "guests". He was going to post them on a bug/gardening forum to get some confirmation on his suspicions. Who could have thought two bugs that completely grossed us out could create so much joy for someone else? Beauty truly is in the eye of the beholder. Bring on the mice please!

Sunday, July 6, 2008


I took about 100 pictures when we went to see the fireworks, this is one of my favorites. Happy Birthday America!


What's In A Name.............

I've been debating on starting a blog for some time now. I had the basic misgivings about it-- What would I write about? Would anyone read it? Would I have time to mess with it? But the big ? I had was "what would I call it?" I thought several times about different names, and then I thought I would try out some of my favorite sayings. Of course, there's "This Has Disaster Written All Over It", a favorite Seinfeld line, which led to even more Seinfeldisms ("YADA, YADA, YADA", "I Don't Want To Be a Pirate") but none of them seemed to work. Finally, "More Fun Than Humans Should Be Allowed To Have" popped in to my head. For those of you who don't know where this originated, it's something that Dave Letterman used to say years ago on one of his earlier incarnations of his talk show. A guy I worked with used to say it all the time when we were bored out of our minds, and it just fits so many situations.

So, here it is. I hope I don't bore you to death and find you saying this. And I hope I have enough subjects to write about to keep up with this, and not let it stagnate. Everyone has to start somewhere though, this is it!