Duncan — Back By Popular Demand

I have been remiss.  A bad girl.  No treats for me.

Yes, it’s true.  Today I was reminded that I haven’t posted any pictures of Duncan recently.

You remember Duncan, don’t you?

Toy Basket

Here he is right after we brought him home, sitting in his toy basket.

He doesn’t quite fit inside it any more.

No Room!

Duncan is quite camera shy.  We get loads of pictures of his butt, which, in my opinion, is not his best feature.  The face doesn’t stay still long enough for photo-ops.  Apparently, he will never run for Congress.

But the little guy has had quite a good time.  He is love, played with, pampered.  He has even had a vacation at the shore.  Here he is on a rocky beach in Maine.  When the rocks are wet, looking for Duncan is very much like playing Where’s Waldo.

When the rocks are wet, looking for Duncan is very much like playing Where's Waldo

Got any Sushi?

Now, let’s see if I can do this.  I took some video inspired by Will of Marking Our Territory, alerted me to a fast and easy way to destroy my iPad.  So naturally I tried it!

And I uploaded my very first YouTube video.

Shit, I’m a rotten videographer …. but I’m a great dog mom!  How many dogs get $300 dog toys?

Anybody got an extra iPad?

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Filed under Bloggin' Buddies, Dogs, Duncan, Fashion, Health and Medicine, Humor, Pets, Wild Beasts

“Ill Be Rested (When The Roll Is Called)” by Mavis Staples

Elyse:

My friend John posted this, and it just seems like an important reminder.

Originally posted on :

We-Ll-Never-Turn-Back-cover

With all that has gone on in Ferguson, MO this past week, I kept thinking that there was a song I’d heard that seemed appropriate. It took me awhile, but I finally found it in my playlist– a song by Mavis Staples, from her 2007 album We’ll Never Turn Back, an album of both old and new songs about protest, equality, love. The album is both moving and comforting. Everyone should take a listen.

Then, I discovered this video (put together in the wake of the murder of Treyvon Martin) on YouTube. I like the video because it puts faces to almost all of the names in the song. If you don’t know all the names — do yourself a favor: Google them. The names deserve to be remembered.

While the song isn’t about anger or grief, it’s a reminder that although we’ve come a long way, we still have a…

View original 368 more words

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Filed under Humor

Self Protection for the Gun Control Crowd

My husband John believes that the whole reason that the NRA is bat-shit crazy about getting everybody guns is so that bit by bit, everybody will become afraid enough of their own shadows and/or that of their neighbors that they will have no choice but to buy their own gun to protect themselves from everybody else in the US who has one and is likely to come a-callin’.  And then, of course, the gun manufacturers would get even more blood money and pay more dues!  It’s a win-win for the NRA and the manufacturers!  The fact that the country will lose is just collateral damage.

John may be on to something.  Because just today I read that there are folks in the NRA who are advocating that non-eagle-eye folks have the right to guns, too.  Not only people who need corrective lenses, but folks who cannot see at all.  In a less politically correct time we might have called them “Blind Folks.”

Now, now, don’t get all worried.  According to Dom Raso, the guy in this video, since blind folks have such good hearing, they don’t need to see what they’re shooting at. 

So the logical conclusion is that they will not just randomly start firing their guns around like irresponsible folks.  (Not that there are any irresponsible gun owners out there, natch.)  That makes me feel much better.

Now I grant you, there is scientific evidence that blind folks can hear better than those with better vision.  Still, I’m really not at all comfortable with the idea that one of my neighbors who is vision impaired might have a gun.  Well, not if he can put bullets into it and fire it, anyway.

But this discussion led me to a brilliant idea.  Now I know how I will protect myself during the apocolypse and/or the rapture and/or when the guvment’s jackbooted thugs come to my house.

I’m gonna make a sign:

Beware of The Jumpy Blind Woman with The Gun 

 

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Filed under Adult Traumas, Conspicuous consumption, Criminal Activity, Disgustology, Elections, GOP, Gun control, Health and Medicine, Huh?, Humor, Hypocrisy, Law, Mental Health, Real Estate, Stupidity, Voting, Wild Beasts

Vive La France!

When we lived in Switzerland and just across the border in France in the late 1990s and early 2000s, one of the biggest problems was finding healthcare.  Now I realize that I worked at the World Health Organization, but the docs there were researchers, primarily, meeting goers-to-ers.  They weren’t your every day heal-the-sick kind of doctors.

In addition to not knowing the ropes of a foreign system, there was the language barrier.  I mean, frankly, it is difficult to describe illnesses in English — I always feared that I would go in with a sore throat and end up without an important body part.  I didn’t realize that that could happen right here in the good old U.S. of A.  In fact, that just happened recently when a man went in for a routine procedure and, ummm, had a life changing event.  Allegedly.

So in 2002, we moved home to the U.S. where I could communicate and get medical treatment for $197,238.73 per word.

Today, though, I’m rethinking that decision.  Maybe we acted in haste.  Maybe we should have thought twice or three times.  Maybe we should go back.

No, I’m not sick.  In fact, with my English-speaking doctors I’m doing quite well.

But there is one thing that I could get in France that I cannot get here:  wine.

French hospital to open wine bar to cheer up terminally ill

PARIS – A hospital in the French city of Clermont-Ferrand is to open a wine bar where terminally ill patients will be able to enjoy a “medically-supervised” glass or two with their families.

Vive la France, where the terminally ill can get “medically supervised” alcoholic beverages.  I hear the wine is to die for.

UPDATE!!!

If I DO go back to die with wine in my hand/throat/tummy, somebody else needs to pick it out.  I have an amazing skill crafted while living inside of or within spitting distance of France.

I can go into any store in France and leave with a bottle of awful wine.  It’s a talent.  A gift.  Not many folks can claim it.

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Filed under Adult Traumas, Crohn's Disease, Hey Doc?, Huh?, Humor, Mental Health, Taking Care of Each Other

People Are Strange

A fellow paralegal I didn’t particularly like gave me a memorable piece of advice over thirty years ago.  And I remember it clearly to this day.

“Never get a vanity license plate,” she said, “Because if you rob a bank or are involved in a hit-and-run accident, witnesses will remember it.”

In spite of the fact that I have never actually robbed a bank or run anybody over, I’ve followed that piece of advice.  But mostly it’s because I tend to change my mind about stuff.  (Like the time I decided that I really didn’t like my choice in between special ordering a new sofa and when it was delivered.)  So if I get a vanity plate, I’m pretty sure I’ll have to go to the DMV weekly to change my special plate when I decide that it isn’t quite as clever as I thought at the time.  [See:  Stupid blog name.]

But I love vanity plates.  I missed them when I was overseas.  I search the road for them while commuting and on road trips.  Sometimes, I laugh at the cleveness.  Often I try to figure out what a message might mean.  Sometimes I shake my head and try to figure out what insanity might possess someone to saddle themselves with such a stupid plate.

The one I saw tonight though, made all others pale in comparison.  It reached an entirely new dimension.  Beyond the earth’s stratosphere, mesosphere and thermosphere.  To Infinity and Beyond.  Literally.

It said:

EWE NEXT

OK, so that doesn’t seem all that ground-breaking, now does it?

The plate was on a hearse.

About this vintage.*

About this vintage.*

The hearse itself had seen better days, but it was pretty much like this picture that I found at this website, where they sell hearses, should you be at all interested in procuring one.  It was not at all like the fancy schmancy hearses I see regularly leaving this appropriately named local funeral parlor:

Photo from (I kid you not) Moneyandking.com

Photo from (I kid you not) Moneyandking.com, a Northern Virginia Funeral Parlor

My hearse, I mean the one I’m talking about, had broken down in the left turn lane to get onto a major highway.  I drove past as the traffic in my lane flowed by, cursing myself for having my camera/cell phone in my pocket instead of ready for this photo op.  [Curses, foiled again.]

That was when I saw the pièce de résistance!  The driver stood in front of the hearse (making it far more likely that HE, and not EWE would, in fact,  be NEXT).  He was dressed in black jeans, black shoes and a black Panama hat.  Oh, and a black Blues Brother T-shirt.

Oh Yeah! Image from http://www.honcho-sfx.com

Oh Yeah!
Image from http://www.honcho-sfx.com

 

I’m pretty sure it was the reincarnation of John Belushi.

Honestly, I don’t know where I’d get my entertainment from if I worked at home.

 

 

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Filed under Driving, Huh?, Humor, Traffic

Monsters’ Throwdown — A Blogger Book!

As a person with Crohn’s Disease, I have seen my fair share of toilets, and my experiences there have been memorable.  And sometimes life threatening (especially if Goliath was involved).

And while I fully expect to die on a toilet, I was not born in one.

The same cannot be said of Eleanor Tomczyk, who writes a terrific blog called How the hell did i end up here?  If you don’t already know Eleanor, go on over.  She always brings a smile, makes you think, makes you laugh.

The story of her life is written up in her memoir, Monsters’ Throwdown — from her disastrous beginnings being born in a toilet, through her triumphs.  Eleanor always managed, somehow, to keep her head above water.

Monsters’ Throwdown will make you cry, make you laugh, make you thank your lucky stars that you didn’t have to go through what Eleanor did to just survive.  But Eleanor did much more than that — she thrived.  And we are all the better for it.

Monster's Throwdown

Available at Amazon — which, coincidentally, is where I got this image.

In today’s world, where racism has become, once again, less hidden, Monsters’ Throwdown is a book worth reading, and its lessons of survival, people helping people, love and triumph leave me very hopeful.

The book is available in paperback and on kindle through Amazon at this link.

Well, what are you waiting for???????

 

 

 

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Filed under Bloggin' Buddies, Books, Childhood Traumas, Family, Humor, Taking Care of Each Other

Did I Miss a Contest?

It’s John’s fault.  Not long after we started dating, John got me hooked on contests when he won one.  A free, all expenses paid trip for two to the UK in 1986!  Seriously!  It was right after the Lockerby bombing, and nobody was going to England.  So British Airways held a contest to give away all tickets to London on one day in June.  And John won.

I didn’t win.

I never win.

I always enter, though. No matter what the contest. As soon as I find out about a raffle, a sweepstakes, a lottery, I’m in.  Take my money.  Please.

So I must admit that I was a little bit miffed when I logged on to one of my favorite news websites — Talking Points Memo today.  Because apparently there is a contest I missed.

A contest to see who can be the biggest asshole.

Did you see some of the things that were done to “celebrate” Independence Day?

There was the editorial in the WestView News — a New York newspaper (WTF? — New York?)

Charming.  Even if it was meant ironically.  Photo credit, West View News.  Assholes

Charming. Even if it was meant ironically. Photo credit, West View News. Assholes

 

Then, there was that parade in Nebraska.  Now tell me, what parade is complete without honoring our president:

Nope.  No racism here.  No disrespect meant, I'm sure.  Assholes.

Nope. No racism here. No disrespect meant, I’m sure. Assholes.

 

But to me, at least for today, the folks who win the contest for the biggest asshole in the country are these guys:  the “Coal Rollers.”  Assholes who modify the emission controls on their diesel vehicles to spew huge clouds of exhaust — ON PURPOSE!  As it says in one of the articles I read on TPM,

Truckers essentially trick their vehicles into thinking they need to use more gas than it actually needs. The more fuel that’s used up, the more exhaust comes out thus the big plumes of dark emissions from a “rolling coal truck.”  According to Daily Digest News, turning a truck into a rolling coal truck can cost as much as $5,000.

Just how much money would you be willing to spend to show just how big an asshole you can be?

They direct their exhaust towards Prius drivers, bicyclists, well, really towards anybody who might not be burning quite as much fossil fuel and/or emitting quite so much CO2 as they are.  They’re doing it because they hate Obama and want to demonstrate just how much.

Yup.  Today, Coal Rollers win the prize.  They are the biggest assholes.

And they’ve cured me of my fascination with contests.  Because I’m never going to top these assholes.

 

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Filed under Adult Traumas, Awards, Climate Change, Conspicuous consumption, Criminal Activity, Disgustology, Global Warming, GOP, Huh?, Hypocrisy