Excused Absence

Once again, I've been neglecting my blog.   *SIGH*   What can I say?  I've been distracted by all the usual insanity here at the asylum . . . again.  
Not only have I been busy tearing down and storing our yard haunt, but my youngest, my baby,  turned thirteen last week.  UGH, a teenager!  If things were crazy before, they are about to become completely out of control now.   I know this from experience.  Of course, this is the first time that I will be dealing with TWO teens at the same time.  In the past, due to the number of years between my children, I've always been fortunate enough to get one through the teen years before the next one reached the magic (or is it really a cursed number?) age of 13.  Silly me, my last two kids are only two years apart in age.  Of course, Jake and Heather are so close, they do everything together.  For the most part, that has been a blessing; I'll have to wait and see if I still feel the same way in the coming years.

Anyway, for Heather's thirteenth birthday she wanted to have a slumber party with 7 of her closest girlfriends.  Normally, that wouldn't be a huge problem;  except for the past several months, our little asylum has been running at full occupancy with Nick, Jenn, and the baby living with us.  Of course, I knew it would be total chaos ( as well as a probable violation of several city codes for maxium occupancy of a four bedroom duplex)  with that many teenage girls in the house.  But after all, it's just for one night . . .   The biggest issue was, where to bed down that many people.  Not that I expected them to do much sleeping, at least not until the wee hours of the morning.  It was finally decided that the only possible availible space was -  the garage.  The problem with that?  Heather's birthday is only 11 days after Halloween.  Not only was the garage still set up as a mad doctor's laboratory from Halloween, but on November 1st, everything from the front yard cemetery gets shoved into the garage until I can get it all packed away. (which normally happens over a span of months) So yeah, I've been extremely busy these past few days, tranforming our garage from a laboratory/storage space, to a party room for teens - all in less than a weeks time.
And because my husband has no idea what it takes to preform the sort of magic that I do on a daily basis, he scheduled Pete's neutering for the morning after the Slumber party !  Of course, we had Pheonix neutered the week before Halloween, and that made me a nervous wreck. Not only was I all strung out over the emotional guilt of abandoning my baby overnight at a strange place,  but I have to admit that dealing with a post-surgery animal was a bit more stressful than I had anticipated.  Not only are they unable to tell you if they're in pain, or if something isn't right, but they could care less about things like . . . surgical incision care, and infection.  They're just dogs, they aren't equiped with survival instincts that cover human situations like surgery.  I was actually amazed at how co-operative Pheonix turned out to be - the perfect patient.  In fact, as the days have passed, I am only sorry that we didn't have him neutered earlier.  I'm starting to think that most of his anxiety and bad behavior was testosterone induced.  He's just a happier, more relaxed, and contented dog.  He has actually become more playful and puppy like.

However, in comparison, Pete . . .   To put it as tactfully as possible, Pete is well, uh . . . psychotic as hell.  He has more issues than LIFE magazine.  Not only is he stubborn and willful, but he has separation anxiety, he's a fence climber with a wandering spirit, he's absolutely frantic when it comes to his fear of thunderstorms, and when it comes to licking and chewing . . . OCD doesn't even BEGIN to describe it !  He has done everything in his power to make his recovery time difficult for everyone; and as a result, it's taking longer for him to heal.  He refuses to leave his incision alone and he worries over it day and night.  We've had to put one of those goofy Elizabethian collars on him, keep him separated from the other dogs, and still, we have to watch him constantly. ALL he does is whinge and cry like a baby.  Once again, I've had to redecorate the garage, this time into a makeshift dog kennel.  Actually, it's more like a canine presidential suite!  And does he appreciate all that I've done for him?  Hell NO!  When I named our home haunt Howling Hollow Asylum, I had no idea that it would become so prophetic.  Pete's constant crying and howling is making everyone insane!!!  Every night when I go to bed, I pray that the hormones will work themselves out of his body quickly, and that the lack of testosterone will have the same effect on Pete as it's had on pheonix.  This really is our last hope.  If neutering him doesn't curb his dominance and his desire to fight with Pheonix, I have to find him another home.  It's going to break my heart, but I can't have that kind of violence and tension in my home.

In other news . . . I've decided to start looking for a job.  Roy has been laid off from his job (which really didn't supply him with enough hours or pay anyway)  and with the kids getting older, and the Holidays and the economy  being such a financial stress - well, I think it's just time for me to go back to work.  I've sent out a few resumes with my optical experience and I seem to be getting pretty good responses.  I know that over the past 20 years that I've been at home there have been a lot of changes (new equipment and products, computers, and worst bof all, insurance)  but the basics never really change much.  Besides, all the changes are really kind of unique specific to each office, so I would probably have to learn it anyway.  But I think I would much rather return to optics, than find work in my other area of training - teaching preschool. Not only is the pay and benefits better, but I think I've had enough of dealing with children. (or grown ups that BEHAVE like children)  Still, I'm really nervous and anxious about the whole thing - it just seems weird to imagine not being at home all the time, and I know that there will have to be new rules, and a lot of  restructuring at home  if I'm not here all day. ( my family doesn't exactly embrace change very well)   I know that in the long run, it will be a good thing, I just don't look forward to the short term stress.  So wish me luck, and keep my family in your prayers, please.
I'm still working on getting the Halloween photos uploaded to my other blog.  My stupid computer has been SO slow lately, I can only do a few each evening.  Hopefully, I'll have it done by the end of this weekend - I'll let you know.

Well, it's late and I need to sleep.  I'll try not to be so long between posts next time.
Good night  all.

*p.s. dog photo credits: my very talented daughter, Heather !

Gutenberg part 3

As time passed, Gutenberg became part of our family. Jake and Heather's fear of her quickly disappeared, as she became their playmate and protector. However, it was Nick that she loved most. Probably because he was the only one who could even come close to matching her energy level. They would tromp through the woods, wrestle, and sleep together. She waited for the bus to drop him off from school, and didn't leave his side until he got back on the bus the next morning.

We quickly discovered that Gute had a few . . . quirks ? She would bark and growl at anyone carrying any kind of stick. I don't know if she had been beaten, or if she instinctively recognised it as a potential weapon. It took her a while to understand that the broom and mop were just cleaning tools.

Likewise, she seemed to comprehend that guns, even squirt guns, were bad. The only time that she refused to accompany Nick, was when he took his B.B. gun to the woods.

She was also terrified of fire. Unlike Honey bear, who loved to curl up in front of the fireplace for warmth, Gutenberg would leave the room. If she couldn't find another family member in another room of the house to be with, she would sit outside the room and shake in fear. When she first came to our family, even the flame from a cigarette lighter would frighten her. Eventually, she learned to overcome most of her fears, based on the level of trust that she had for the person holding it.

Unfortunately, she was never able to trust anyone outside our family, and my mother. No matter how hard we tried, Gutenberg refused to see anyone outside our family as anything other than a threat. No matter where we lived, there always had to be a "safe place" for Gutenberg to go when guests arrived. Gute didn't really need a reason to bite a stranger in the butt. I always felt a little sad that she missed out on meeting new people and alot of family time; But when a guest arrived, and I took her to her safe place, (usually Nick's bed room) you could actually see the relief and tension go out of her body. It was obvious that her aggression was based on pure fear.

In alot of ways, living with Gutenberg was like living with an animal that could never really become completely tame. She always had an instinctual wildness about her. Her sense of smell and hearing, her protective instincts, even her prey drive, was alot stronger than most domestic dogs. I know that alot of people thought that we were crazy to have a dog like her in our home, but we didn't choose her, she chose us. I suspect that she had been surviving on her own for a long time. She needed the safety of being part of a family - or a pack. I think that everyone needs that.

She wasn't always easy to live with. While Honey bear had "special needs" as a three legged dog, she was always the typical happy, friendly, kind of goofy, Golden Retriever. However, Gutenberg was almost the complete opposite - very driven and intense ; but still , playful and affectionate with her family. The contrast between the two became alot more apparent when we moved out of our house in the woods, to the suburbs with my mom. Our entire family composition changed, both human and canine.

But that's another story.
It's late, I'm tired, and I'm going to bed.
Good night.

Love,
Susan

Gutenberg part 1

Almost a year ago, back in February of 2007, I wrote a blog about my Golden retriever, Honey Bear, who passed away in March of 2005. At that time, I had intended to also blog about my German Shepard, Gutenberg, who passed away a year later; however, it was just too emotional. Recently, a blogger friend, Sometimes Saintly Nick, began writing a multi part recollection of one of his former pets, which has been greatly enjoyed by many, myself included. I believe that animals, like people, come into our lives for a purpose, and that we can learn alot from them if we are willing to open our hearts, as well as our homes to them. Since the story of Gutenberg is one that I had wanted to share, I thought I'd give this method a try. I hope that you enjoy it.

The first time that I ever saw Gutenberg was in August of 2001. My husband and I were driving past a house that we would soon be moving into. A house that I thought would become our dream house. It was a 100+ year old country house, at the end of a long gravel road. To the front and rear were acres upon acres of woods that eventually became part of the Wyandot County Park Hiking Trails. To the left, were almost thirty acres of farm land, and beyond that, barely visible, the highway. For five miles to the right, were a handful of homes each settled on no less than 5 - 10 acres of Missouri woodlands.

As we drove past the house, we pulled onto the dirt road to turn around. In the center of that road, was a scrawny, ragged, female German Shepard. Instantly, I could see that this dog had the potential to be a beautiful animal if she was cleaned up and fed. As we drove slowly past her, she drew back her mouth to show her teeth in a vicious snarl and growled deeply. I remember looking at Roy and saying, "If Nick goes tromping through the woods, he needs to be sure to take his BB gun with him." The idea of one of my children happening upon that dog, while alone in the woods, genuinely frightened me and brought out my maternal instincts of protection.

Almost two weeks later, we began moving in to the house. As I returned to my van to get another load of boxes, I saw this dog inside of my car, rummaging for food ! As I walked toward the car I yelled "hey!" in a sharp loud voice. Her head popped up out of a box and she was gone in a flash, disappearing into the woods. Over the next couple of days, I would catch a glimpse of her hanging around the edge of the property. The previous owners had left behind a 1 year old rottweiler mix female that Heather quickly adopted and named Minnie. In addition, we brought with us my 3 legged Golden retriever, Honey Bear. Both Honey Bear and Minnie were friendly dogs, but their presence seemed to keep the stray Shepard at bay.

After we settled in, occasionally, one of the kids would come running into the house in a panic because the "mean dog" was getting too close for their comfort. I would go outside, yell, and she would take off running back to the woods. After Nick told me that the dog had cornered him in the barn, snarling, and bearing her teeth, I began asking our neighbors who, she belonged to.

I learned that she just showed up, almost two months prior to our moving in. Apparently, the remote area that we lived in seemed to appeal to people looking for a rural setting to "dump" their unwanted pets. It wasn't unusual for stray and Ferrel dogs to suddenly appear, and then, just as suddenly, disappear. (usually, either a result of wandering too close to the Highway in search of food, or from bothering the livestock of the farmer to our left, who would shoot them.)

I considered contacting animal control, but hesitated, knowing that her temperament would result in her being euthanized. I knew that it was probably the kindest option, but I wasn't sure that I wanted to be the one responsible for this dogs death. I finally decided that as long as she kept her distance from my kids, I would let nature take it's course and hope for the best.

A day or two later, I was in the kitchen working, when Nick came walking through - with that evil German Shepard following behind him - with her tail wagging !! Even more amazing, she was followed by our other two dogs, who were behaving as if they had known her all their lives !! Before Nick was able to escape through the front door, I yelled, "WHOA !!!"

Nick returned with his parade of canines. I looked at this dog that everyone, including myself, had feared for weeks, and said, "What the hell is this !" pointing at her.

Nick smiled and said, "ah mom, she was just hungry."

I rolled my eyes and said, "I know ! She almost ate YOU last week!"

Nick looked down at her and started rubbing her neck, "Yeah, I know. But I started thinking about that, and I felt really bad about frightening her. So, today, I brought her some food, and she has been following me around ever since. She's a really good dog, can I keep her ?"

"NO !!" I responded, "And get her out of my house, and away from my babies."

"She's my dog." Nick said as he went back outside.

For the rest of the day, I watched her follow Nick everywhere. It was obvious that they both adored each other. She seemed gentle and respectful enough when Nick introduced her to Jake and Heather, but I still didn't trust her. Never the less, there were three dogs lying on the floor, gathered around the diner table by evening. Roy noticed the connection between the two of them, and as usual, took Nick's side. I finally told Nick that if she was going to be in my house, he'd have to give her a bath. And if she EVER showed even an ounce of aggression, towards anyone, she was gone !

Aimless

Hey there,





I woke up to a dark, cold, drizzly day. I just wanted to pull the covers up to my chin and sleep all day. I almost did. You don't even want to know what this weather has done to my dainty auburn tresses. I don't know, maybe it's not the weather, maybe I've just got so much stress that even my hair is fried. Can stress fry your hair ? I'll have to ask Jasmin.

Anyhow, I managed to make it through the day. Roy came home a little early to take the kids and I to see a house in Parkville that he did some work on a couple of weeks ago. It's for rent, and. . . . I guess it's okay. It's got some really nice things that I like. A huge back yard with a two car garage. It also has a dinning area, which is one of the things on my wish list. However, the bedrooms and kitchen are small, and it only has one bathroom. The neighborhood seems good - lots of kids. It could work.

Unfortunately, the guy who showed the house is not the owner. The house belongs to his brother, who is blind. He will have to talk with him and get back to us tomorrow. In the meantime, I'm going to see if I can get a hold of Tina tomorrow, (our land lord's rental person) and see if I can work something out. I really don't like dealing with her, but I REALLY do not want to take Jake out of school and move him, when we only have four months left on our lease. Whatever they have planned for this property, it can wait four months.

Anyway, as we were driving to Parkville this evening, the rain changed over to snow. We now have about an inch of the white stuff, and it's still coming down. The dogs are making me crazy with their in and out routine. Out to play and roll around, back inside to warm up, then back out. . . They are worse than the kids ! At least it gives them something to focus on besides Princess.

Yes, it's that time of the season for her - UGH !!! And no, I haven't gotten the boys fixed yet. It's a good thing that she's such a mean little bitch ! She won't have anything to do with these monster doggie boys. She has been seeking comfort and refuge with Angel this week. Angel is such a nurturing soul, she lets her snuggle beside her and growls at the guys if they get too close. Of course, if Angel is somewhere else, Princess has no problem defending herself. I'm just tired of all the crying from the boys - what boo-babies ! Princess is saving herself for the right dog - her prince. It just scares me to think of what kind of dog would actually tolerate her crap. She is like the canine equivalent of Roseanne Barr with PMS.

Oh my Gosh, I am so tired of all this insanity. Part of me just wants to escape to somewhere quiet and peaceful, but my heart knows that there can be no happiness without all the people who make me crazy - my family. I am such a sick, twisted person.

I just made a batch of pumpkin muffins. They're SO yummy with honey-nut cream cheese on top ! Not exactly healthy, but it could be worse. I could eat the whole batch. I could, but I won't. Even if I did, I'd never admit to it.

Okay, I'm just rambling now. I need to get myself to bed.
Good night.
Love,
Susan

* Why do fools fall in love ?

Hey there,



Well, I went to go see my mom today. I have concluded that this woman is crazy. According to her, she became seriously distressed over her breathing on Friday. She came home from work and sat in her big comfy bed room chair, where she sits to read her paper and do the crosswords, and stayed there all night. Why ? Because she was completely unable to breathe when she laid down in bed, and she was waiting for the urgent care to open at 9 AM.

It seems to me, that if a person is unable to breathe, they would either go to the emergency room, or call someone to take them - not my mom. She sat there trying to breathe until 9 AM, then drives HERSELF to urgent care ! I asked her how she managed to get there with such a low oxygen level ?

Her response, "I took two deep puffs off my inhaler, jumped in the car and drove there."

Then she added, "Oh yeah, I smoked two cigarettes on the way there, and then two cigarettes on my way to the hospital, because I knew that they wouldn't let me smoke when I got there."

I just shook my head and sighed. I know that she's just waiting to be released tomorrow so she can light up a smoke, go home, change clothes and head straight into work. She has already made it clear that she HAS to go to work tomorrow. I don't know what I'm going to do with this woman - except, to get close enough to check on her on a regular basis.


As soon as we left the hospital, we went straight over to Jasmin's house to look at a few houses over by her and my mom. I don't know, I have to have a place that's big enough for us, and alot of the houses in that area are older. Many of them are beautiful, but the rooms and the lots are small. I've got a few numbers that I'm going to call tomorrow. I'm just hoping that we can find something soon. Jasmin wanted us to stay and hang out for a while, but my hubby was in one of his poopy moods, so we headed home, feeling kind of disappointed.

I got home, checked my emails to find that Roy's mom will also be released tomorrow. In spite of the fact that she just had a serious surgery, and she's 89 years old, I worry about her less than I do my mom. Two of her daughters are living with her, she takes what the doctor tells her seriously, and she's got a fantastic attitude.

So tomorrow could become a very interesting and crazy kind of day. I've already got enough craziness in my home and my life. One of the newest, craziest things is that Midnight, my black lab pup, has fallen in love with - of all dogs - Princess! She doesn't seem to be in heat. None of the other dogs are paying any attention to her, and Midnight's overtures toward Princess are not along those lines. He just loves her. Who knows what goes on in the hearts and minds of dogs ? Midnight has always been the sweet, gentle, soulful type. When the other dogs go running along the fence line barking at some stranger on the other side, Midnight goes running for the door for protection and safety. Midnight is everyone's favorite play mate because he's just so happy and gentle. However, we have all noticed that he's really NOT the sharpest tool in the shed. He's a little slow, but that's part of his charm. He's the pup that always wants to be close to me. Where ever I go, he is at my feet. When Roy climbs out of bed in the morning, it's Midnight who claims his space, and I wake up every morning with his chin resting on my neck.

I have no idea why this sweet pup would choose the meanest, crankiest, feistiest dog in the whole state to fall in love with. Maybe, he's attracted to that little tiny head, with a sweet face, stuck onto that round plump body ? Maybe he thinks that his love will melt her heart and subdue that savage, bossy, mean streak in her ? Maybe, he's just a romantic ? All I know is that he is obsessed with nuzzling her. He approaches her with a soft whine, and wants nothing more than to cuddle and lick her face. Of course, It could be that Midnight's tongue is bigger than Princess's whole head, but I doubt that is what she objects to. It's a known fact that princess spends most of her time looking for a warm body to snuggle with. But she is just mean enough to reject Midnight's repeated invitations to cuddle. She would prefer to grab hold of his upper lip, and bite until he cries out in pain, and runs to me for comfort. But still, he persists in his gentle wooing of the little beast.

It would be nice if Midnight could tame her with his love . . .but, I just don't think that's going to happen. Princess is just too rotten. And it breaks my heart to see the hurt, confused look in his eyes when she rejects him in such a painful way. They say that opposites attract, and that love hurts, but I don't think Midnight has any idea what he's in for. It's so sad - she's so mean.

Oh well, My kids are going back to school tomorrow, and even my late night wanderer, Heather, is finally asleep. So I better get myself upstairs too and get some sleep.

Good night all,
Love,
Susan

* What to do....

Hey !

So. . . I have to be completely honest right now. I ran out of Cymbalta today and I'm feeling just a little . . . what the hell do you call it? Uhhhh. . . . manic . . . No, bi-polar, I think. Whatever. Maybe I'm dyslexic or I've just lost my mind. Anyway, I feel like crap. But don't worry, my dealer, I mean doctor, has got some waiting for me at his office, and if I can ever get five minutes without someone wanting something, I can go pick them up. (provided that happens between the hours of 9am and 5 pm.)

But in the mean time, I have to amuse myself with tossing peanut butter cookies at the dogs while I am stuck eating a salad with not enough Ranch dressing on it. It's not as bad as it seems because the dogs are really funny. Pete and Angel know how to catch things in mid-air. Because I teach all my dogs how to do cool stuff like that - thank you very much. But I've got these two puppies that have yet to become educated in such silliness. I've been busy lately, okay ? So in between bites of rabbit food, I'm trying to teach them a thing or two about becoming "cool dogs". I've got a big tin of peanut butter cookies that have already caused me a great deal of. . . internal grief and because I am no longer pleased with these cookies, they must go. Anyway, Phoenix, my brown pup - the one withOUT brain damage- is at least trying. However, Midnight, the sweet black pup - with obvious issues - just looks at me expectantly, then seems puzzled when he is hit with a flying cookie which slides down his nose and onto the floor. After a few moment of cautious inspection, he eats it. (If he can get to it before my 20 pound miniature pincher does.) As much as it pains me, I'm afraid that Midnight might never become a cool dog - not enough oxygen to the brain at birth, I'm afraid. It's very sad, but at least it brings me a few late night chuckles. ( And he has a heart as big as the world, so I can forgive him anything.)

Okay, here's a thought that has occurred to me recently. One of the contributing reasons for moving my blog to this site, was to obtain more freedom to blog. Well, actually, I didn't want my mother, or my mother in law, or every single member of my husband's family to be privy to every random thought that I had. That doesn't mean that I'm not still a sweet, wholesome, sensitive girl from Kansas. But there are some people, who might be shocked to learn that I throw stale peanut-butter cookies at a retarded dog's nose late at night, just for a good laugh. I'm not proud of myself, I'm just saying that it's funny. Anyhow, I've finally got some space to blog without the judgement of in-laws and family members, and I have done nothing with my freedom. So I ask myself, why this is ? (when I talk to myself, I don't worry about using proper grammar.) The answer, of course, completely escapes me. Which is why I have changed the title and look of my blog. (Do you like it?) I love wolves, and I feel happy when I pull this page up. Therefore, I've decided that my New Year's resolution will be to claim my blog. I am going to write what I want , when I want, the way that I want. Of course, I'll still use spell check - I don't want to make a complete ass of myself. In fact, I am feeling so rebellious, that I am starting today, instead of waiting until New Year's! I know, it's a daring move. . . I'm going from The Yellow Brick Road, to Howling at the Moon, in one giant leap. Gosh, I hope y'all can keep up.

Okay, Here's an example. of real life. My husband, the big ol' bear, just wandered out of his sleeping den to go pee. (that's right, I'm talking about bears urinating.) I'm really pissed off at him, and I don't know what to do. Here is the situation. My husband is a hypochondriac. I'm fairly certain that he spends every moment mentally examining himself for any possible pain or symptom that might exist. Since the day I met him, he's been whinging about his back. This is NOT a result of all his hard work on a daily basis, although, he does work hard. This pain is the result of years of wild living, and hard drinking that he did as a teen and a young adult before he met me. Depending on his mood, it's either the result of falling off a horse, or it could be from the time that he wrecked his motorcycle, or possibly from a soft ball pitching injury - all of which probably occurred during a drunken stupor - hence the lack of clarity regarding the issue. In any case, he has been to many, many doctors to have it fixed. They either tell him that they can't find anything wrong, or they want to do surgery to find the problem. Neither answer is a solution to his problem.

Let me tell you what the problem is. The problem is that my husband refuses to discuss, or deal with, issues that upset him, or cause him stress. The result of stuffing all that anxiety down inside, comes out in the form of back pain. One of the reasons that I fell in love with him was because he is such a calm, gentle soul. However, I have discovered that the flip side to that is that he is painfully non-confrontational. Which is a problem when you are raising children. Children require rules, and boundaries, and sometimes, discipline. He would rather tell them "yes" out of fear, than "no" out of love. I am absolutely certain that yes, his pain is real. However, since medical doctors have been no help to him, for 30 years, he chose to medicate the problem with alcohol, which has resulted in him becoming an alcoholic. After much heartache, and almost 12 months in jail, he gave up alcohol. That was almost 7 years ago.

Since he quit drinking, he's been doing what seems to be the right thing, which is go back to the doctor. Unfortunately, since surgery isn't really an option, and years of physical therapy hasn't helped, all they can really do is give him pain pills when it gets bad. Being married to a person who is on pain pills, for long periods, is alot like being single. There is a warm body in my bed most of the time, it just doesn't do much. Even when he's awake - he's a zombie. And when the doctor finally decides that he can't continue prescribing pain meds any longer, it's too late - everyone has to endure the withdrawls.

So, I've been feeling very frustrated and cranky lately. He always seems to have some level of back pain - usually, it's manageable with over the counter pain meds, but even that is having an effect on his stomach. It's becoming more and more obvious to me, that his most of his major back pain flare ups occur when life gets stressful for him.

I've talked to his doctor and had him cut off, but he just goes to another doctor. I could bitch and scream at him, but that's not going to relieve any one's stress. Being sweet and understanding doesn't fix addiction. I'm not a psychiatrist, I can't get him to talk about things that he has been avoiding for the past 47 years. And since it really is painful for him, Roy has a hard time believing that his pain can be anything OTHER than physical - what a surprise ! I don't know how to deal with this. It's frustrating, but I'm not the kind of person who gives up. People in my life are NOT disposable. I just need to figure out the appropriate tact to take. I'm thinking maybe something sneaky and underhanded might do the trick. I just hate to resort to that. I have to think about it some more. Am I the only person who believes that stress, anxiety, and other negative emotions can result in real physical pain and illness?

Okay, I'm done howling for tonight. I need to get some sleep. But I'll be back later.

Love to all,
Susan

* Pre-Christmas Craziness

Hey there !



I have a feeling that it's going to be one of "those" winters. We are in the midst of another weekend snow storm. I love the snow, the kids love the snow, they're just not crazy about the timing. As everyone knows, snow should only fall in large amounts, Monday through Friday, NOT on the weekends ! I think that we have had significant snowfalls every weekend this month. Of course, it's always nice to have snow for Christmas, but kids know that we are only allowed so many snowfalls per year, so it's important to make the most of each one. Snow on the weekend, and during Christmas break, is just a waste, in their opinion. And I have to admit, that it's a pain in the ass for Christmas shopping.


I finally got out on Friday, and got a few things accomplished while the kids did a bit of their own shopping at the mall. Roy and I had planned to do the bulk of our shopping today. And we did get most of it done, but then, the roads got so yucky that we had to head home. We're hoping that the road crews will have a chance to get the roads cleared by tomorrow, so that we can finish up. The last thing that I want to do, is to be out in all the insanity on Monday. I'd much rather be home with my family on Christmas Eve. Unfortunately, it's starting to look like Roy has a few service calls scheduled for Monday. It's going to be chaos. I suspect that with all the snow that we have had, alot of people are behind on their shopping.

I haven't heard from Jasmin the last few days. I'm guessing that she's pulling her hair out by now. I remember what it's like having little ones at Christmas time. Even kids that are normally "nice", become "naughty" the few days before Christmas - Christmas Eve is the worst. It's just more excitement and anticipation than any kid can handle. It's a little easier for me, now that Jake and Heather are older. So far, my biggest concern has been getting them over their flu. (yup, they caught my virus after all.)
Jake came down with it on Thursday, and was in and out of bed all night long. Heather got it the next day, and the "bathroom relay" was repeated last night. She wasn't able to eat much of anything until this evening at dinner - and she went to bed early. Heather, my little worrier, spent most of today fretting over "what if I'm not better by Sunday ?!" (As if the world just might reschedule Christmas for her. ) I finally got her to take a nap and she woke up feeling better - and a little less anxious. They should both be back to normal by tomorrow, so things could still get interesting before Christmas.

Since Roy and the kids have gone to bed early tonight, the pups are doing their best to take up the slack and keep me busy. They feel that it's their duty to periodically interrupt my quiet time with their needs, so that my butt doesn't grow roots on this computer chair. I'm being a push over because I was too busy to get them out for their walks today; also, the winds are just a little too chilly for me. Roy got them riled up after dinner with an insane game of ball - INSIDE the house !! Roy is actually worse than a kid because....well, mostly because he's too big for me to kick his ass, or to be intimidated by my threats. Playing fetch with the dogs (inside) has been one of his annoying hobbies for along time now.

This is a game that started before we had this particular pack of dogs; back when we just had Guttenburg, Honey Bear, and Angel, was just a pup. Guttenburg, my German Shepard, and Honey Bear, my Golden Retriever, were pros at playing ball. They always caught the ball and brought it back. They were quick and agile, and rarely knocked things over. (also, our house was alot bigger.) I also think that they were alot smarter. I worked with them during the day and taught them all kinds of tricks with the tennis ball. Even so, about four years ago, I managed to end up with a back eye from one of Roy's inside Tennis ball games with the dogs. In those days, I had no concerns about laying on the floor, as Gute was flying through the air to snatch the ball. The collision occurred when I raised my head to tell Roy to "Please, don't play ball with the dogs in the house," at the same time that Gute was leaping over me to catch it. At that moment, Guttenburg's back leg smashed into my head. It's true, when you get whacked in the head. . . you see stars. It hurt so much, I almost forgot to breathe, but Guttenburg caught the ball !

With this goofy group of canines, Angel, is the only one who really understands the "magic" of the tennis ball. The other four, just run amok, and do their best to knock over as many people and things as possible. Still, Roy continues to play the game, trying to recapture the past. The truth is, they aren't ever going to get it. When I can get Angel alone, without the other four lunatics, I play ball with her because she truly loves it. I think it reminds her of her old friends. At least it reminds ME of my old friends, Honey Bear and Guttenburg.

Anyway, the pups are still trying to use up their excess energy by playing in the new snow. The problem is that the cold, isn't as much fun, as the snow. They play for a while, come inside to warm up, and want back out 5 minutes later. This little routine has been going on since I sat down to type. I think I'm done. Almost an hour of getting up, opening the door, sitting back down, only to repeat the process every 10 minutes, has finally relieved me of all my guilt. I'm going to turn out the lights, and go to bed.

Hope that you all have a wonderful day.
Love ya,
Susan