Tequila and Pork Chops

I have two words for you: LAKE TAHOE. That  means I didn’t get any writing done this week. But here’s a post from 2012 that you won’t remember because, well, it was 6 years ago! Happy reading…

There are few things of which I’ve been certain. I’m the queen of indecisiveness. Mexican or Italian for dinner? Hmm…maybe Italian? Wear the beige or blue skirt? I guess the beige? What color should we paint the house? Don’t even go there.

In fact, one decision that actually came easy for me was to adopt our buff-colored Cocker Spaniel, Tequila. I suppose, to be truthful, it wasn’t actually my decision. Knowing my history and the fact that I would waver between dogs for days, my husband picked her and I nodded in agreement and relief. Good choice, Jim.

We had good intentions from the get-go and decided not to feed her fattening table scraps. We bought the best dog food we could find and congratulated ourselves on not giving in to those pleading brown eyes under the dinner table.

Cocker Spaniel puppy

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That’s Just Jack

Marley and Me

I just watched the movie Marley and Me with my fat cat, Jack. Yes, Jack watches TV. He’s a very observant guy. But if you haven’t seen the movie, I’m about to ruin it for you so you should probably skip the next paragraph.Spoiler Alert

Marley and Me is a comedy about a dog but also a tear-jerker because Marley dies, as dogs will do. I’d already seen the movie but I still cried like a baby. I’m talking crocodile tears that spilled from my eyes, missed my cheeks entirely, then landed on Jack, who lounged on my lap. Pathetic? Yeah, I’d say so.

Now that you Marley and Me virgins are back with us, let’s continue.. Continue reading

Be Careful What You Wish For

I’m driving along, again wondering what I should blog about this week. What can I write that you might want to read? So I thought, I wish something interesting would happen so I don’t resort to posting a previous blog out of desperation. Word of advice:

be careful what you wish for

Recently I’ve undergone some procedures: a bone scan for oldies like me, a pap smear, mammogram…all the fun stuff. So I’m getting my pap when the doctor says, “I see you have osteoporosis.” What? Appears my bone scan showed I’d graduated from soft bones to full-fledged-about-to-crumble-bones.

Oh the joys of being short, small-boned and Caucasian (risk factors for osteoporosis).

Then the next day I had a mammogram even though, as I’m pushing 63, they suggest doing it every 2-3 years. They can suggest all they want; I get one every year.

better safe than sorry

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The New and Improved Tippi

I believe I’m destined to be forced into wearing a rather gaudy accessory, one which promises to be exceptionally unflattering. Especially when I’m wearing a dress and heels. Wait, who am I kidding? That scenario only happens at weddings and funerals. But I digress…

What’s this accessory I’m referring to? A neck brace, that’s what. Now don’t get me wrong. I didn’t fall over the doggie gate (again) and wrench my pencil neck. No, it’s much worse; it seems my cat Tippi prefers to sleep across said neck every night, as opposed to snoozing in one of many pet beds spread about the house.

neck brace

It’s my fault. I’m a big push-over, unwilling to insist my cat slumber on a body part impervious to suffocation. Owning a cat weighing the equivalent of a 10 lb. sack of sugar draped across one’s windpipe, is not exactly conducive to a restful night’s sleep. Consequently, I have a rather annoying neck kink.

Tippi on my neck

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Lessons Learned

So Monday I’m driving in the rain, tending to the usual feral cat stuff. And even though my blog runs on Sundays, I started thinking about my next topic. It’s never too early to plan, especially since I’m a last minute kinda gal. (Sometimes I’m writing at midnight Saturday night.) So I’m thinking and I’m thinking. But…

I got nothin again

Now don’t get me wrong; I knew something would come to me (and probably Saturday around midnight). But then, there ya go. Just like that, something came to me. And here it is:

Monday’s weather was weird. Rain one minute, sunny the next. Surprisingly, I actually remembered to bring my raincoat. For my last errand, I headed to Home Depot for tin garbage cans to store excess cat food since rodents have discovered my garage is a culinary gold mine.

Home Depot

The garbage cans were outside in the garden section but the lids sat on a top shelf. (Naturally.) So to reach them, I placed my purse on the lid of one can and used another can to hoist myself up to grab the lids. I thought, okay, now I’m outta here. Except my purse was gone. It had slid into a can where 3 inches of rain water sat waiting to soak my Baggallini .

wet purse

The evidence

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