There, I said it. I’m not exactly proud of it, but I’m not embarrassed by it either. It is what it is. To be honest, I’m actually okay with it and I’ll tell you why.
As you know, I’m an animal person. I’ve had many cats and dogs in my lifetime so I can’t imagine not having pets living with me. Working in cat rescue, I’ve fostered 272 kittens to date. Over the years, my menagerie grew as I’d add a cat to the count here and there when one of my fosters wasn’t going to be adoptable. I ask you,
So what could cause me, a normally even-tempered, happy-go-lucky gal to feel this way? Two words…a dishwasher. God help me (and everyone around me) if another of my appliances bites the dust. I’m at the point with this Bosch dishwasher that I’d throw it through a window if I could lift it. Which I can’t. So I won’t.
Continue readingOriginally posted in 2018
Let me repeat: My pets are weirdos.
So what does that say about me? After all, I’m the common denominator. That doesn’t mean I think Nellie, Callie, Skip, Wally, Oliver, Savannah, Tippi, and Jack are flawed. Quite the contrary. They may be odd but they provide endless entertainment through their weirdness. And anyway, aren’t we all a little odd? Therefore, I’ll gladly take credit for their, shall we say, unique qualities.
As you all know, Nellie eats poop so I’m used to that weird trait of hers. But another thing she does (when she thinks I’m not looking) is to leap onto the bed immediately after I’m done making it. She gathers the sheets and comforter into a tiny mountain in the middle of the bed, then plops herself on it and promptly takes a nap. A particularly annoying weirdness.
My mom was the strongest woman I’ve known, not in physical strength, but in fortitude. Still, in 1985 she was diagnosed with six months to live. But being who she was, it didn’t surprise me she lived another 19 years.
My mom had inoperable small cell lung cancer, congestive heart failure, and severe osteoporosis. Although challenging for her, she never complained; her will to live was amazing. She simply refused to die until after my dad passed, then she joined him a week later.
How my mom managed with her condition is beyond me; she just accepted what comes with the joys of aging. I, on the other hand, will likely keep griping. However, toward the end of her life she said, “Janie Mae, getting old isn’t for sissies.” Now that I’m 71, I’m beginning to understand what she meant.
If ten years ago you read my blog post titled, FDA, How Stupid Do You Think We Are?, you’ll know my belief in them, or lack thereof, hasn’t changed a whole lot. Let’s just say I don’t have a ton of trust in their decisions to approve certain drugs.
If you watch television or listen to the radio, I’m betting you’ve seen or heard the abundance of commercials touting any number of drugs for any number of ailments. Sure seems to be an epidemic of ailments, don’t you think?
Anyway, I saw a particularly disturbing commercial last week, so I started paying better attention. At the end of it, a narrator quickly reads a list of the not so great side affects, probably hoping nobody was paying attention— except this nobody was.
