Bring It On!

So you probably know about my trials and tribulations with a leaky kitchen faucet. Trouble was, the insurance inspector couldn’t say for sure if that caused my hardwood floor to buckle but they refused to replace it just the same. I griped about it, threatened to go elsewhere, and the funds miraculously appeared in my checking account.

So off I went to look for new flooring, deciding on Luxury Vinyl Planks because it’s practically bullet-proof. That’s fine and dandy but what I wanted is flooring that’s pee-proof, water-proof, scratch-proof, and one that cleans itself. I got three out of four. Not bad.

You see, Taffy misses her pee pad almost daily. Callie, who is 13 this month, physically can’t make it out the dog door most days and try as she might to hit the pee pad, her foggy eyes mean her aim isn’t stellar. Then there’s Oliver with his luxurious long fur (which means constantly cleaning up hairballs) and Fat Jack who overindulges then promptly vomits his meal. Consequently, as much as I like it, hardwood flooring in my house is dumb.

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The Sweetest Gift

Here is my annual tribute to my mom, my best friend and the greatest lady I’ve ever known. How lucky was I? Happy Mother’s Day!

My mom, Loretta Rose, with Bailey

She gave me love as well as life; so whatever goodness I may bring to Earth began with the gift of my mother’s heart……Robert Sexton

At some point in our relationship, my mom transitioned from being my parent to also being a great friend. I’d say it happened in 1985, when she was diagnosed with incurable, inoperable lung cancer.

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Spring Has Sprung!

…in other words, it’s time to haul out the patio furniture (once our monsoons stop), grab the gardening tools, get ready to plant those annuals and gear up for summer.

But for me, this time of year also means organizing every closet, cupboard and drawer in the house. Not because I want to, mind you. I can think of 37 much more interesting things I’d rather do. But since I’ve been lax of late, my cupboards look like we had a recent earthquake. No longer are the cans and bottles lined up facing forward and boxes neatly stacked. It’s what you’d call a…

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The Kiss of Death

Have you ever driven down the freeway and thought to yourself: Wow, there’s hardly any traffic today. How lucky am I? And then you crest the hill only to witness a mass of cars seemingly attached like miles-long sausages. Or, if you brag to friends about rarely getting sick or injured, you’ve pretty much just guaranteed the next day you’ll get the flu and fall down the stairs.

Why do I bring this up? Because a couple weeks ago I had the audacity to actually say to someone, “I’ve been so fortunate these 39 years in my home because very little has gone wrong that needed fixing.” And that was, in 4 little words,

Now don’t get me wrong; a fire didn’t demolish my residence. The roof didn’t blow off during the huge storm we endured a few weeks ago. No trees fell on my car; nothing that bad. But apparently simply commenting about one’s good fortune just about guarantees it will soon change. I was never a true believer of that myth, until now. And here’s why…

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Down Memory Lane

Last week I had occasion to visit the neighborhood where I grew up in Santa Venetia, also derogatorily known as Scabo. I’m not sure what that stands for but since it’s an ugly word, I’m guessing it wasn’t known as the most desirable place to live. But I beg to differ.

Santa Venetia

Kids don’t know they don’t live in a mansion. I certainly didn’t. We had 4 bedrooms that weren’t much bigger than some large walk-in closets and closets not much wider than a refrigerator. Now don’t get me wrong; I didn’t care one bit. I had what I needed and that was enough.

our house

Our little house

To me, our Doughboy Pool was the bomb (better known as groovy back then). Other neighborhood dads helped my dad install it. That’s how it was; neighbors helping neighbors. On summer afternoons, being in that pool or playing ping pong on the patio were my favorite places to be.

me in pool

Even as a teen, still in the pool

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