Lucky Me

I’m sitting here writing next to my best friend of late. My best friend being a box of Kleenex. My third box, to be exact. Nearly 195 supposedly ultra soft facial tissues have been my constant companion since I contracted Covid 2 1/2 weeks ago.

I guess I’m officially an old lady now since a sure sign is when one stuffs a Kleenex up a sleeve or keeps it within reach in the car. I always wondered why that was. Do old ladies get runny noses more often than young ones? Perhaps. But in my defense, I plan to go back to being Kleenex-free once this awful illness decides to leave my body.

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My Work In Progress

I’m on the comeback trail from Covid so expect a new posting next week. In the meantime, here’s one from 2020….

A couple Sunday’s ago you met my latest addition to my furry family. At that writing, this cross-eyed feline was called Trinity, the name Marin Humane gave her because she came from northern California. Since that day, her name has changed no less than 4 times. Hey, it’s not so easy naming someone you’re still getting to know.

For instance, when I decided to keep this semi-feral, I made a list of possible names with help from my friend Loretta. After all, she was spot-on naming Dash…entirely apropos for that madman. So for a couple days Trinity was Willow. But as I got to know her better, she wasn’t exactly graceful or willowy. This girl has a touch of crazy.

Then I called Trinity Sadie, although she didn’t look like a Sadie (whatever that looks like). That name soon became Chloe. But no matter how often I said it, it made absolutely no impression on her. In fact, I believe she ignored me even more than usual. Besides, Chloe is one of the top 10 names for female cats and she doesn’t strike me as a particularly trendy feline. So I went down my list of 12 names and said each one to her while looking for some sort of approval, maybe a look my way, a blink. Anything. But I got nothin’.

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Who You Callin’ Irritable?

Since I’m dealing with Covid and have been prone for days, here’s a posting from August 2019.

Hold on a second while I scream at a fly dive-bombing me in my bedroom.

If you don’t get out of here this second and leave me alone, I’m gonna send you sailing into that wall and I’m afraid you won’t be getting back up!fly2

Okay, I’m back. Forgive me for that little tirade, will you? It’s not like me to want to hurt anything, even a fly. It’s just doing what flies do — being annoying. They can’t seem to help it. But did that stop me from screaming at it? Obviously not. And I’ll tell you why.

A couple weeks ago I posted, Help, I’m Crumbling, about my achy breaky back. The MRI disclosed a herniated disc and 2 collapsing vertebrae. As an added bonus, I’m now blessed with sciatica and a dollop of arthritis in my spine. In other words, I’m a mess. So the next step is an epidural injection of cortisone.

Great, let’s do it. I’m ready!back pain

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Meeting the Boogeyman

I don’t know, maybe I watch too many of those true crime programs that feature crazies committing horrendous murders. Or worse, seemingly sane individuals who murder. Not even the gal next door is safe. And that gal could be me. For instance, one night not long ago, I was in my office on my computer around 1:00 a.m. when I heard a car pull up.making a murderer

As you know, when we’re in a lighted room looking out into the night, we can’t see anyone. But they can see us. Spooky, huh? That night I saw only head and tail lights as the car idled in place for seemingly several minutes. That’s when I imagined the occupant of said car was likely plotting my demise.

Pretending not to notice, I kept typing when I heard the car door slam shut, meaning someone exited the vehicle. Trying to discern what was going on without telegraphing panic, I caught a glimpse of a figure, illuminated by the moonlight, walking up the edge of my lawn toward my house. My heart raced and for a moment I wondered why it is I don’t own a gun. Just then, my home security alarm went off…meaning my 4 dogs went ballistic.

Taffy and Wally playing2

Wally and Taffy


Skip and Callie in kitchen

Skip and Callie

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Woman’s Best Friend

Previously posted in 2013

I had a confetti-filled homecoming last night; my house was TP’ed with a mega roll of Charmin Ultra Soft toilet paper. I know this because I bought the paper myself. You see, the scene of the crime took place inside my home.

Upon walking through the door, I spotted the evidence strewn about like mounds of paper snow. I immediately suspected the culprit was my border collie mix, Callie. She’s a chewer and she bores easily – two rather unfortunate traits in a canine. Continue reading