Thanks

Have you ever run across a saying that is the EXACT way you feel?

Some random words put together in just the right way to finally give you meaning to your life? To surround you with a big fuzzy blanket. For you to say "OMG that is exactly correct."

I have.

Yesterday.

I have probably read, like a MILLION books, magazines, cereal boxes, billboards. All have enlightened me somewhat.

Yesterday, the whole friggin' sun landed in my living room.

Thank you Lee Child for giving me the sentence that has already changed my life.

Are ya ready?

"Everyone has a plan until they get punched in the face." I know, brilliant!

I have carried this around with me for two days now, two delicious days. Two days of feeling that finally I have been given the meaning of life. Not just life but MY life. My planned life. My fully planned, well thought-out, paved with nice new pavement, life

All day, I laugh and giggle. I had the plan for tea at Fred Meyer, all sold out. I like one kind of butter, not being carried in my neck of the woods any longer. Planned and Punched. Planned and Punched.

This has taken such a load off of me. I feel lighter, more carefree. Plus, it is just fun to say the sentence over and over again. Plan, punch, Plan, punch.

So, thank you Lee Child (and Jack Reacher), which by the way are absolutely great books and not just because he gave me the true meaning of life, but because he is a very good writer.

Thanks

Just thanks!

Porcupines

So having two dogs is a lot like having fourteen porcupines and a mongoose loose in your house. Ok, not the mongoose but I just reread Rikki-Tikki-Tavi and I am in a mongoose sort of mindset. And maybe a cobra or two, you know just for good measure. Anywhoo!

Talking about porcupines. They are sharp, not mind sharp, but pointy sharp. Olive is just like that, no mind that I can find but her toe nails slice up my feet every morning. That dog performs a toe dance like no other on my bare feet every live long day. The tops of my feet resemble an abstract painting of black, blue and yellow. Since it is not Halloween every day, this is not a look that I particularly care to sport.

I have now taken to flinging myself from my bed to the ottoman, then to the top of the tub, from there it is just a small scary shuffle to the shower, ALMOST home free, then a mad dash to the toilet, AWEEEEEE! almost made it, a thousand small needles are shoved into the top of my foot. Every day it goes like this, some days it is one foot, some days it is two feet.

And while I am trying to dance the jig away from 60 lbs of torture, the 17 lb sidekick is trying to scramble up my bare legs in his attempt to join the fray of fun. There is no glamorous way of systematically trying to leap into the air, yell "GET DOWN, DAMMIT (janet)", and hold in your bladder muscles that were the very thing that started this day of horror. Every morning it is a toss up to which catastrophe is most likely to occur; breaking my legs, killing a dog, killing my self, or my bladder just giving up idea that I may make it in time.

I feel like I am on an episode of man vs. beast and the man is loosing. In this case, woman. And I have opposable thumbs. I am supposed to be at the top of the food chain. The top I tell you! I don't drink out of the toilet, I remember the garbage man comes every Monday, I know when the heater kicks on we are not being brought down by invisible zombies and therefore I do not run head first into the wall.

So I guess the bigger question is "Who is really running this show? Me or the fourteen porcupines?"

I'm bettin' on the porcupines.

Here I come again

Starting on Monday, I am back. New and Improved. Ok, not really but at least back.

Relationships

I am in a relationship.

When I was younger, I used to dream about a guy that would make my heart beat faster, make my thoughts all steamy, make me draw little hearts on my pee-chee with our initials inside. I never found that, even when I was married my heart never beat faster and I am pretty sure I never drew a heart.

Now, finally, I have that. Finished pressure washing the deck, love cursed through my veins. New windows installed, I had the vapors and needed to lie down. The words "French Drain" mean more to me than the words "I will love you forever." I have dreams that involve driveway sealer that I swear are racy and frankly make my heart beat faster.

The words "I will start and finish in three days time" are equal to a three-carat diamond. The newly trimmed trees look like filet mignon without the calories. I draw little hearts with tile layouts in them. I look at new toilets and plan how to ask it for a date, a date with my house, a full time, lasting relationship. Is it appropriate to send out cards announcing the new relationship or is it too early still?

I know the people at the Home Depot store on a first name basis and will name my next pet "Depot", or maybe myself, still unclear about that. I can daydream for hours in the caulking aisle. I do a happy dance going down the nail/screw section. Power tools make me drool. Don't even mention the words "electrical outside outlet" unless you want to see a middle-aged woman cry in joy.

Yep, this relationship is working out just dandy. Home repair relationships are the best.

Oh, and the guy I now see, pretty wonderful as well.

It is all good

Well, I am officially divorced. And officially no longer a homeowner in Seattle.

It feels different and good. Scary and weird. I have my own schedule and now my own life. This is a whole new experience. The last time I was on my own, I was eighteen years old. EIGHTEEN years old! A baby really. Now I am forty-six and still a baby.

I run a list of things I need to do. Of things I want to accomplish. I am starting out small, with baby steps. Little things that wouldn't mean much to others, but mean a whole lot to me. I feel shaky inside. Some days I feel absolutely terrified.

All these feelings are good, normal, to be expected but scary nonetheless. And exhilarating. And exhausting.

February 1st is the big kick off. A new last name, still not picked out. New credit cards in my OWN name. A vacation planned just for me. Home remodeling in just my style. New hair. New tattoo. A new me? nah, just an improved version of the same old me.

One thing I have discovered in this sea of confusion and disarray, is the fact that I like me. The flaws. The strengths. The scars. The whole package. It is all good.

Now, if I just had a last name, it would be perfect.

I'm baaaaaaack

Hello again.

I have been busy setting up for Christmas. This is my favorite time of the year and the fact that I have no cash has not deterred me from decorating. If you have glue, glitter, paper and ribbon, you can almost create the entire holiday from scratch.

I have gone a total vintage theme this year and I am in love with it. I will post pictures later this week. I have bought only two things this season. One is the color wheel for my aluminum tree and one giant apothecary jar (that was on sale!) to hold the fake snowballs I made. I want to show the tree with the color wheel, so that is why the pictures will be posted later.

In other wonderful news, my new relationship is going fantastic. I went to Los Angeles for a vacation and oh my gosh, it was nirvana. The sun, the sun, the sun! those people sure have a lot of sun! We spent most of our time in a town that I believe is called Channel Islands, it is by Oxnard or something like that. Anyway, it totally beautiful. It is right on the water and all these houses are located on little canals. I hope to live there someday, right after I win the lottery and can afford something. It was so relaxing and warm, plus the company was awesome.

The kid came home for Thanksgiving and that was just the icing on the cake. He returns home for the Christmas season this week and all will be awesome in my world.

The ex is still a dork. The money and job situation is worse than ever but I am remaining focused and positive. Maybe I will receive a Christmas miracle.

The dogs are both well and just as insane as always. Hope all is well with you and you are having a wonderful start to the holiday season.

Fun facts

Random fun facts of my life these days.

The shoe has decided to grace my life with its presence. I thank the home for returning my shoe right before the 40 days and 40 nights of horrible rain we are having arrived. I really needed it to start building my ark and getting ready for the swarm of locusts that I expect will also show up sometime soon.

My I-phone has decided to speak German and only German. No other languages shall be accepted. What happens if I don't speak German? Nothing. It is trying to teach me a lesson in how pissed off can one person get before they huck the phone into the ocean. What is has taught me is that apple SUCKS and I will never update my I-phone again.

Olive has learned to get into my bed. My high four poster beautiful linen covered sanctuary. I now may or may not be missing a kidney. Also, I will never sleep as deeply as I once did before 68 lbs of dog landed directly on my middle. In the dark. In the middle of the night. Totally unannounced and frankly, unwanted.

My garage has flooded.

My windshield wipers are broken on my car and my model of Range Rover is the ONLY year you need to have a service man put them on. I am number 62 on the wait list and scheduled for the first part of July. That is SO helpful.

I have had to touch goo to unplug the storm drain in front of my home. Of course, I waited until my driveway had flooded with enough pebbles and sand that I could easily open my own gravel pit. Funny enough, I thought the city took care of their own storm drains. Turns out, NO.

The push broom I own has the broom part but no handle. How exactly do you lose the handle to a broom?

I hope everyone is having as much fun in their day to day lives as I am.

Absolutely Nothing to Report.

We have officially entered the horrible rainy season at the coast. Not the kind of rain that actually waters stuff but the misting kind that makes my hair poof up and be seen from space. I totally hate it.

I have power. I now have had power three TOTAL days in a ROW. It is like winning the Power ball only with no money and instead a light bulb that works. Super!

The dogs have been very poorly behaved and I think Olive is going through her terrible two's at 8 months of age. In all things bad, she is well ahead of the curve. In two days, she has chewed up three rugs, 2 shirts, 1 pair of pants and 1 billion unmentionables. You can say "Why don't you pick up your clothes, you messy thing. Didn't your mother teach you any better?" And the answer would be no, she didn't teach me any better but I have picked them up and put them in the hamper. Only Olive has figured out if you throw your giant hairy body against the hamper, it falls over and Boom, all sorts of fun has just been scattered around the laundry room. I am looking for a heavier hamper or a lighter dog, which ever I find first shall solve the problem.

So other than that, it is a very boring mundane existence I am leading. And I am so FINE with that. After all the excitement of the last year, a little boring is nice. I am reading A LOT. I am crafting. I am calm and content. I really hope it takes for a while.

Happy Anniversary to ME!

Happy Anniversary to me! I am celebrating tonight. I am having wine and circus peanuts along with a mini-marathon of The Mentalist on the telly. What a party. Olive will go nuts, for some strange reason the voice of the guy who plays the Mentalist (Simon something or other) drives her into the other room. She is odd, just go with it.

I could show you some more craft projects, but that is boring to you.

I filled out some more job applications, that is boring to me.

It is raining here to beat the band, that is boring for EVERYONE.

I have spent the last few days cleaning the house to have it appraised. The appraiser never showed. I still have a clean house, so that will make the party even more fun.

Last night I went through the Julia Child cookbook that my wonderful neighbor bought for me, and I decided to cook something French to bring to the Halloween party. I hope it works out. It would be just my luck to send everyone to the hospital with food poisoning. Now I need to choose something. Something easy it goes without saying.

I had to call and explain to some companies that I can't pay them right now. They were all super, SUPER nice and extended my payment schedule.

I am selling on Ebay. Right now I am selling off my mermaids. It is hard.

In one year I have become a person I would like to know. In fact, I like me. This is a great anniversary!

Now if only the dogs had sent me a gift, it would totally 100% perfect. They are such lazy asses.

Spay

Today Olive was spayed. She had no clue what this meant, I on the other hand was overjoyed. I have never actually had a litter of puppies from any of the dogs I have owned over my life, but if they are anything like children I don't want to.

The last Bernese I owned, Alex, I bought to become a show dog. I had big plans. She (and I) were going to be famous. She, because of winning all the dog shows, and I, because I always wanted to run around the ring at the Westminster in a dress and strange flat shoes holding that leash high in the air with the dog prancing beside me. This was my dream.

I contacted breeders. I did my homework. I knew what it would entail and since it seemed harder on the dog then it did on me, I was good to go. I was put on the waiting list for the "perfect dog." I waited and waited and then just for good measure, waited some more. Puppies were born and deemed non-show worthy. Too much white, not enough white, too small, too large. More puppies came and went on to their forever homes, which was not my home. Finally, the call came in. A show puppy was available. I sped to the kennel and brought that little Westminster winner home, thoughts of grandeur occupying my thoughts. I couldn't decide between a shorter dress or a longer, below the knee look. Which would look better with the strange shoes? How should I wear my hair? Where do you buy those strange looking shoes?

I named the future winner Alexandria, after one of my favorite books. I thought that would sound grand when they introduced her to the audience. Her puppies would come from a regal hound with a great sounding name. Turns out there was one small problem with the lovely plan.

The regal hound was a dumb-ass.

Beautiful, yes. Sweet, Oh, yes. Stupid, Oh My God, absolutely.

She was unbelievably dumb. She peed on herself. She ran into the sliding glass door so often, we had to have a curtain made for it. We had to run her to the vets for exams because she cut her head so often. She ate everything she found, keys, coins, small pieces of bark, larger pieces of bark, rocks. X-rays became our gift of choice. Every holiday we exchanged trips to the vet certificates. We broke down and hired someone to help us, since there was no way that dream of taking a victory lap was going to die so easy. They came, they tried, they failed. We hired again. They failed again. We sent her away to become housebroken. She came back, happy, healthy and still able to pee in the house at will.

Then she had her first heat. OH MY GOD! The nightmare still haunts me. I can feel the hives returning to my arms. She was fine with it, after all this was a dog who could happily sleep in her own urine. I was not fine with it. Having white carpet did not make me fine with it. She couldn't go outside. Even though the yard was fenced, every male dog in a 100 mile radius was camped out in our driveway. Vocal complaints about the lack of services provided to them was my daily conversation. The neighbors complained. The front yard started to look like some sort of compost experiment, in fact the inside of the house looked the same. She wanted out to meet her fans and boy did those fans want to meet her!

I was going insane. No longer did visions of trophies occupy my mind, instead it was filled with how much is new carpet, a new yard, bribes to the neighbors going to cost me. How much longer until my house is egged. How much longer can my home smell like a barnyard.

She started pooping in the house.

I shot myself and that dog down to the vet so fast that the pack of suitors were left wondering if the love of their life had been a dream. I had her spayed. She never became housebroken. She never gained an ounce of sense. Running around in circles in the back yard was the closet she came to a winners circle. She never had suitors again. I purchased new carpets for my Valentine's Day present and signed the card "Love Alex." She was a lovely dog. We had her for twelve years. I sometimes miss her when Olive looks at me as she runs into the dining room wall.

No more thoughts of show dogs. I still love Bernese's. They are sweet, kind, beautiful, have a heart of gold and have the silkiest coats EVER. They are however, dumb asses.

Thank Goodness I roll that way.

Thank Gosh for Seals

The last few days of sun have been shining brightly and so I have taken to doing my morning run down the beach. It is cold, which makes me run faster or sometimes turn around and go home faster. Either way it is faster.

The only other nutcases out there are the shell gathers and other joggers. Sometimes the surfers if the waves are doing what they need to do to be ridden. And seals.

The last few days, seals have come to lay on the beach. They catch some rays. Watch the birds. And nap. And watch joggers. I feel like I am in a movie. Jogging next to the ocean, beautiful sun, hard slightly wet sand and now seals. It seems so unreal.

This afternoon I took the dogs down to the beach for their annual frenzy of the day. They yank me down the rocks. They deposit all sorts of dead, smelly things in front of me, in the hopes that I may be up for a game of catch. They chase the waves and bark at birds. The seals were unimpressed, though I had leashed the dogs up before we arrived on the seals. Still there. Still sunning.

Herbie marched on by and didn't even make eye contact. Olive, well, she is quite the loon. Olive is afraid of many, many things. Things that make absolutely no sense to be afraid of. Opening of the bag cupboard in the kitchen will require a mad dash of flight to the safety of the couch. Boxes of any size, empty or full, and she is gone like the wind. The bird eating his seed. Her leash touching her tail. The dude on the Mentalist tv show. The broom. My coat. Oh, the list is varied and really just endless. Today, the seal. She almost ripped her head off her body leaping backwards. The seal didn't move. Olive howled. The seal didn't move. Olive threw her body on the ground. The seal didn't move. She looked around. Herbie marched over and growled at her. She closed her eyes. Open. Seal. Closed. Open. Seal. You could almost see the wheels in her head turning. I was laughing. Finally, I picked her up and set her on her legs. Started to walk. She followed.

The entire rest of the way home, she was certain we were going to be devoured by a seal. She was the most well behaved dog I HAVE EVER SEEN.

I am going to get me one of those seals permanently.

A weekend

I would love to give you a post of the meaning of life and some beautiful rambling prose of the oceans wild, instead I have been dealing with home ownership crap. Which no matter how you write it will never sound beautiful.

I know I am luckier than some to own my home and in such a spectacular setting, that being said, it is hard work to keep this sucker up and trying to hold its own against the elements. We are losing. Though after this weekend, we have made up some ground.

This was a weekend/summer home. If there were problems, people came and fixed them, I just wrote the check. That has changed. I could write the check, there are just no funds to cover it. Plus, since I now live here full time, I want to learn some of this stuff. Though not ever the gutters, AGAIN. Seriously, this is a disgusting job and I really felt quite faint throughout the ordeal. Also, I got all wet. And cold. And covered with goo that I DON'T even want to know its origins. It ended up with a little bit of the gutters that I can't reach, even with a ladder and now the weeds that are flourishing there, have been taunting me all day. ALL DAY I SAY! And for some small weeds they can really talk smack. I tried putting the hose on the super powerful stream and was promptly rewarded with a face full of goo but the weeds are standing tall.

I moved on.

Moved on to washing the deck. This deck is very slippery when wet. I have floated across it many a time in my flip-flops, hoping that I won't take a header over the edge before I gain some sort of traction. I bought the 30 second cleaner at the hardware store, that I went to totally forgetting I still had a face full of goo from the gutters. I know that the guys in my town can hardly wait to start dating a chick that leaves her home with wet moss on her face. So the 30 second cleaner, cleaned just like it promised. What it forgot to say was that your deck will become more slippery than anything ever seen when applied. Good news, the railing stopped my free fall. Deck cleaned.

Today I spent the morning applying the stain. I bought a tool that made it easier, supposedly. Of course being such a genius, I first stained my feet, my shoes, my pants, and a good portion of the lawn before getting the hang of the on and off switch. Tonight it is drying and looks ok.

None of these things are amazing events. They won't make the paper or the news, but tonight drinking my latte and staring out the window at the deck, I am proud. I did this. I saw. I conquered. Sure the gutters can say they kicked my ass but they would be wrong. I am strong and powerful and those weeds are GOING DOWN.

Early afternoon buffet

So here at the coast we are yet again having some sort of fish run. Earlier in the summer we had herring and anchovies. Now it is something larger and equally as gross as the early fish. The birds love this and that makes me happy. They leave a trillion disgusting fish skeletons with the heads still attached EVERYWHERE, this makes me not happy.

Now you might say to yourself "why does this have anything to do with you, birds need to eat too, you selfish horrible hater of nature?"

The reason would be that since I own the bird brain of dogs (cute, the way I threw in bird there! just keepin' ya on your toes) Olive will eat the remains, free of charge, happy to do it.

Not just one, or two, or twenty, or 100 but every single one she finds. I've yet to see her not eat one. Again no need to explain that fish bones are not good for dogs. I'm all over that page. Explaining it to Olive, a whole different ball game.

Yesterday I thought it was a fluke. She saw, she scarfed, she waited until she got home to puke, she is kind that way.

Today, same thing, only now she is on to me and while she can't remember we have a dining room wall and runs head first into it every morning on the way to breakfast, she can remember that if you get to close to me I will put the leash back on and that will close down the early afternoon buffet. So she dances and prances and wags her tail all with a horrible fish skeleton dangling from her mouth. Luckily I have a heavy constitution, even so it is truly one of the most disturbing sights you will see.

These are remains that not even CROWS will eat and I thought they ate everything. Yet, there is my dog chowing down and hoping to find some dipping sauce to go along with the meal.

We cut our walk short. We will not be walking on the beach until whatever is vacationing here is gone. Soon I hope.

Of course, walking home a gull flew overhead and dropped a skeleton in front of the worlds dumbest dog. I think I may have a dislocated shoulder from her lunging for the dessert that plopped right from the sky. Now she sits in the front yard, scanning the heavens, in the hope that a small evening snack will appear.

Creativity

Here we are all adjusting to living without a school schedule. I have started to try and get up at the normal time. Do my normal things. I'm not quite there yet but I have made a good start.

Today was the first day I went back to crafting. I have no crafting talent anymore. I don't know what has happened. I guess it fell out of the moving truck on the way here, or maybe I didn't pack it at all.

I sat and looked at my supplies, all in a big mess. I pulled out my projects that I had started for Halloween, they were horrible. I now craft in the basement. It is bigger than my last space but it is not filling me up with creativity.

I'm hoping that this is all temporary. After all I have gone through some major changes all at one time, at least that is what I am telling myself.

Could it be that talent evaporates? You have a finite amount and once it is gone, Good by! Can it be that you just feel overloaded and tired? so creativity just takes a back seat? or in my case, no seat at all. It missed the bus altogether.

I hope not. Crafting is what I am good at. Not just good, great. I will be heartbroken if it is gone.

So I guess I will watch tv, read a book, walk on the beach and maybe, just maybe, when I least expect it, Creativity will tap me on the shoulder and want to walk with me for a while.

Older, happier me!

I have gained some weight. Not a lot, not like, oh, say 80 lbs or anything, more like 5 or 8 lbs.

One of the key aspects to getting older, is the notion of not sweating the small stuff. Shrugging your shoulders and just letting go. Whatever!

The younger me would have had a fit. Would have fought tooth and nail over everything. Must win the battle, the war, and everything in between. The older me, not so much. Am I tired? Am I wiser? Am I laying on the ground with the stuffing beat out of me and I just can't rise anymore?

No. I'm just smarter.

I know the treadmill is waiting in the garage. The I-pod is loaded with fast paced songs that equal the amount of time I need to stay on the treadmill. The fridge has spinach, carrots, and a chicken breast awaiting a salad to be made. The 100 calorie packs are lined up like little ducks all in a row. The new exercise outfit is one size too small, so it squeezes me in all the wrong places.

All this I know. Just like I know that the weight will go back down and in all honesty will probably go back up sometime as well. Just like I know that I will feel like death on the treadmill the first few times.

Because I am older and wiser, I am content with the knowing and the doing. I don't spend so much time fighting against the ropes, I just put on my big girl panties and DO it. I know I will succeed and be happy because of it. This is what getting older has taught me. Patience, perseverance, ability, and the knowledge of how to put it all together.

Youth is good. I am reminded of youth, when I sit cross-legged for too long and get up to the sound of some large crackle sounds, which I am pretty sure, can't be good news. I like youth but truth be told, I like the age I am now just fine. I like the face that stares back at me from a mirror, lines and all. I like the body I have, even heavier than I would like to be.

I like the whole package of me. It reminds me of where I have been and where I am going. I like the comfort of age, the acceptance that I will never be a ballerina or a trapeze artist. I like knowing I am funny and kind, that I am not patient, and I tend to talk over people.

The youthful me would have been bothered and fretful about the things I am not. The older me is happy that I am here, right here and now, flaws, treadmills, salads, and all.

Internet

So hammering, sawing and punching new holes in my walls have ensued.

Since I was in for a penny, in for a pound kind of mood, I decided to get internet. I have internet, I think. Though it seems to come and go at will, and it is not my will that it is interested in. During the day, when I am busy and not on my computer, full speed internet. At night, when I have time and am on my computer, no speed internet.

I have bought new modems and new routers. I have changed from one company to the next and back again. I have purchased upgrades for computers. I have tried laptops and desktops. All have been to no avail. Sometimes it is on and sometimes it is off.

The kid can't get it in his room, which is right off the kitchen, but we can get it in the back yard. We can get it down the hall but not in the room where the router resides. We are in quite a pissy mood about this, well, mostly me and I'm pretty sure it is because I am in a pissy mood about everything.

Lovely internet dude shows up today. He is also the tv dude. We have tv. We have internet, as long as we ARE SITTING RIGHT ON THE ROUTER. What the hell! I don't own a mansion. My walls are not made of heavy steel. Crap, when it rains and the wind blows, you can feel it right in the living room. This house is not air tight. Yet, we are locked up like the federal depository when it comes to internet. Yep, that internet is NOT traveling.

The dude moves this and that. Unplugs this and that. Pushes this button and that button. Nothing. I can get the internet, the kid cannot. The kid can get internet, I cannot. On and on it goes. The dude starts to get annoyed, as if I had planned this very fun activity for his Thursday ON PURPOSE.

Finally, he decides he has done his level best to get us internet and so his job is done. As a parting gift, he explains he gets the internet AT HIS ENTIRE HOUSE and good luck to us. If we need additional service, please just give them a call back. ADDITIONAL SERVICE my ass! I need the regular service. I want internet in my whole home. The internet that I am paying for.

Now I have two internet companies. One so I can have internet and one so the kid can have internet. It is costing me a friggin fortune. I will just live with it for the time being since I have so much other stuff on my plate, but man, I really, really wish something, ANYTHING, in my life would have a easy button attached to it.

Sickly

For the last few days I have been sick. I have enjoyed this. It wasn't the sick where you are REALLY SICK and FEEL YOU MAY DIE AT ANY MOMENT. More of the kind where you just feel run down and that life is totally kicking your ass!

I assign time limits to my being sick. A cold - 1 hour. A headache - 30 minutes. A stomach ache - 15 minutes. Anything blood related - like a paper cut - 5 seconds (I really hate the sight of blood). It has been so long since I had the flu (knock on wood) or anything major that I have no time references for those. These time limits in no way work but I feel more in control if I tell my body to stop acting like a big cry baby and get well.

My body pretty much replies the same way every time - "SUCK IT!" and then it continues on its sickly way.

This time I just went with the flow. I wore sweatpants and a tank top. Put my hair up in a pony tail. Had a glass of water. Watched my delightful la femme Nikita (that Michael, what a very yummy man! - I'll take one to go, please) and basically played slug for two days.

I did nothing but sleep and lay in bed while whatever it was beat the stuffing out of me. Then like it had arrived, it was gone.

And I lost weight. What a deal!

My new BFF

I have been spray painting plastic outside furniture.

This is the best invention EVER. It seems all the outdoor furniture you buy, is some horrible color of black, or dark green, or even worse, WHITE. I have the dark green color. It was Costco, circa 2001. It has seen better days but I can't afford anything new right now, so I have just sucked it up.

Until a few days ago.

I stopped at the local hardware store the other day to pick up primer. On the way out the aisle, I saw plastic spray paint. I stopped. There was the normal colors, white, black, dark green, BLACH. But right below it, lovely colors, blues, light yellows, purple, pink, mint green. Just lovely. I picked up the hydrangea blue color. It was a lovely light blue, so I bought a can.

I first tried it on the dark green chair, the color ended up being a little darker because I didn't prime the chair first. I'm sure if I had primed it white, the color would have been a lovely light shade of blue. The darker color is fabulous though. Today I am doing the white chair, and it is turning out just wonderful.

It has made the chairs seem so beachy and new! I just gave them a quick wash outside with soap and water, then went to town. In a beach environment, I am going for a casual, comfy look, so I wasn't too careful with the paint. After the chairs, I am doing the little table that goes between them pink with a hydrangea blue middle. Then the dining table is going to be yellow with blue hydrangea chairs. The cushions are green and white, so I will have to find something to cover them in, maybe a white chenille.

My deck will look festive, and new and the best part is that it didn't cost an arm and a leg.

My new BFF is spray paint for plastic.

Love that puppy away

Delicious weather we are having. Sunny, warm and it is just wonderful to go for long walks on the beach. We bring the dogs.

Everyone wants to talk to us about Olive. We are going to have a t-shirt made up for her to wear that states:

• Why, yes, I am going to be a big dog!
• Oh My, thank you I do have big paws.
• Why, really! truly! I am going to be a big dog!
• Yes, I do contain quite a bit of fur.
• Enough already, I am going to be a ginormous dog!
• No, I am not an Australian Shepard, A Newfoundland, or from the Samoa Islands.
• Yes, eventually I will be big enough to bring down a buffalo.

This is what we spend our entire walk stating. Every person says the same thing. The EXACT same thing. Yet, I answer with a smile and keep my opinions to myself. But it is annoying.

Herbie just marches on and pays no never mind. As far as he is concerned, Olive is a nut case and he lives for the day she disappears from his sight.

Today we stopped and had pizza in town. This is the only restaurant that has tables outside for the morons who bring their dogs into town. Also, it is a lovely place to stop and pollute the world with cigarette smoke while people eat. When lo and behold, we ran into another couple that had a Bernese Mountain dog. It was a male, about 5 months old. The look on Herbie's face was priceless.

Oh, what has the world done to me, THERE IS ANOTHER ONE. It is coming BY ME. It is STOPPING BY ME. It is SMELLING ME. SAVE ME.

When all of a sudden a change came right over Herbie. He started whining and leaping and just making the biggest fuss over that puppy. It was like he had just won the lottery, received the best Christmas gift ever, and his food bowl was NEVER ENDING. That puppy didn't know what to do, he had never been loved like this before. Frankly, it was a little frightening both to us and the puppy. Olive stared at Herbie, why he could be friendly! to a strange dog! not the dog that resided in the same home with him. The dog that sucks his head to get to the creamy center, the dog that yanks Herbie's leg while he sleeps to wake him up, the dog that will drink from the water bowl and dry her face on his back! The dog that thinks Herbie rises and sets with the sun. Her face registered disbelief.

Then it dawned on us. When Herbie first met Olive, he was the crankiest, meanest pug. He snarled and growled. He refused to be nice, or even tolerate her being in the other room. He was horrible. Still she stayed. Now it was like a light bulb had gone off in his head. I know YOU BE REALLY SUPER NICE TO PUPPIES AND THEY GO AWAY. If YOU ARE MEAN, THEY LIVE WITH YOU FOREVER!. I AM GOING TO LOVE THAT PUPPY AWAY.

The look on his face when that puppy continued down the street was priceless. Then he turned around and bit Olive's face.

Olive was happy to know the old Herbie was back.

The end.

pain

I took yesterday off because I finished my tattoo.

It HURT. A BOATLOAD! I because why, yes, I am an amazing woman, thanks for asking, sat for over two hours while they filled in the color.

Yes, it was my decision to get it. I am re-thinking the idea of getting another one. It hurt. A lot.

The first time they drew the outline and did the shading. That was more of an annoying sensation than an actual pain sensation. Yesterday, no annoying sensation, just pain.

At first, I'm like, WOW! good lord that was slightly painful. Then it was OH MY GOD, that is pretty painful. Then it was I AM FOR SURE GOING TO DIE RIGHT HERE IN THIS CHAIR. Yet, I stuck around. I sucked it up, didn't say anything, plastered a smile on my face and tried to find my Zen.

No Zen was to be found. He had left the building. Apparently he was pretty irate.

I laughed and joked. Told interesting tales of the moronic ex. Watched the people come in and out for piercings. Watched the people come in and make appointments for tattoos. Clenched my teeth so hard, my jaw aches today.

Now why I didn't leave? Other than the fact that my arm would have looked totally stupid with half an octopus colored in.

There was one other person in the room getting a tattoo. It was a guy. A guy who had the most amazing arm tattoo going on. A guy who never flinched or wiggled or moaned or asked repeatedly, HOW MUCH LONGER. A guy who was facing MY DIRECTION. I was in his direct line of vision. I didn't know him. I wasn't going to ever see him again in my life. Yet, for some odd reason, he wasn't going to see me act like no girly girl. No way, I don't care if that tattoo was going to take 5 hours, I was going to sit there until he either left, at which case, I would fling myself out of the chair and run screaming out into the street, or that tattoo was going to be done.

Being done came first. THANK GOODNESS. I paid with a huge smile and explained, Why that wasn't as bad as I had expected, it was a walk in the park, a piece of cake, a day of sunshine. AS LONG AS ALL THOSE THINGS INCLUDED MY ARM BEING EATEN BY A WOOD-CHIPPER. I left and whined my way through the evening.

I never said I wasn't a girly-girl in my OWN HOME.