Now I remember why I don't have dogs..
They poop.. and they pee and they whine ..
Previously on: Why I don't have dogs..
When I was married, my daughter and I wanted to adopt a miniature grey hound. My husband said there would NEVER be a dog in his house. Well, I could understand that, since when we entered the hallowed marriage thing, we brought a cat with us, he already had two and then when one was thrown out in traffic, we rushed to adopt it, couldn't because it had to be healed and stuff, but we fell for a cat that kept trying to claw at us from its cage.
Well, we thought it was cute, sadly, that was all this cat wanted to do: claw us. Then a friend had a beautiful cat called 'Pumpkin' that her mother had, but when mama passed away, the daughter was so allergic that her eyes swelled shut just getting this guy to us for us to watch and help find a home. We renamed him "Punkin Thomas' which sounded more manly than the original woosie name.
Then we adopted 'Dweezel' the Hemingway cat with all the toes and then a friend of ours gave us 'Kit' who was a little bitty thing, who went out and got pregnant by a HUGE cat, had three babies about the same size she was. My daughter birthed all the kitties at the tender age of about 12 and between that and at the age of about four helping to take the staples out of my stomach after a hysterectomy, she was on her way to a medical career.
One newly-birthed white cat was huge with a pampas grass tail (of the three Kit had, he was the only one that lived..) My husband, in all of his vast creativity named him 'Whitey'.
Oh, we'd also adopted a pig we named Kirby after we saw the movie, "Babe", but when he got so large that when I'd head for the kitchen for any reason, he'd knock us all over beating us to the punch in hopes that we'd drop food on him, we had to send him to be adopted by a place that promised that he'd go and live with lots of other piggies in a fabulous place that they never told us the location of. .. we hope he lived a great and full life after that.
In the middle of all of this animal adopting, there was never talk of bringing in a dog. It was verboten, a no-way-Jose sort of thing, and all was right with the world.
One day, in the middle of August (and this is Florida, so you know it was HOT HOT HOT..) the man is looking for a blanket. I was on the computer, in the middle of a great mental masterpiece of some sort when I came back to earth and noticed the rustling around in the linen closet, in the garage, in the clothes closet, under the bed and in all the drawers. As my eyes regained focus on my surroundings, I asked what he was looking for. And of course, the answer that I got was, "A blanket."
"Uhh.. for what?"
"The Dog." Ahh.. the dog. Ok. And I went back to my typing and whatever I was creating at the time. Shortly thereafter, my head snapped up and what he'd told me sunk in. A DOG????? What the???
Well, it seems that when he went out that morning, something drew him to the back yard. I never knew he even went to the back yard. I published magazines and in exchange for advertising, we had a yard guy.. HE went into the back yard and kept our lawn looking so good, it was an erotic experience for me just to look out at our miniscule acreage and see how beautifully well-tended it was. Between that and my other drugs of choice: Food and great books, I was a VERY contented woman.
But I digress.. the man had found a PUPPY in the back yard. She was not all that big, totally starved and had feet the size of dinner plates. Holy crap. He was holding and rocking his beast, declaring love for her (that he'd never gotten that excited about to declare to me, his wife) and that she'd never have to worry about a home or food again (ok, well he did declare that to me, but now it looked very suspicious in the 'maybe he thinks I'm a pet' mode). Who the hell WAS this man??? And this thing was going to grow up to be the size of a small horse! And smell like DOG. Ugh… no.
My adamant 'no way Joses' fell on deaf ears. Damn it. So, Ginger (since she had copper colored fur or hair or whatever dogs have) joined our merry menagerie. Oh, did I mention that we had an aviary of cool birds that chirped all morning long (I love that sound): 2 cockatiels (Storm and Key ~ Key learned the Andy Griffith theme song and then wrote his own concert around it. Storm was a girl who was just generally pissed at the world and ignored the concert); we also had 2 non-descript parakeets, which is why there is no description other than one was yellow and the other was blue); and a bunch of little finch things all in 3 cages denoting their genus. And the cats loved to lie between the cages and flick their tails and listen to the concerts with little cat-like looks of 'wow, this is a great life.. yawn'.
So, here comes this stupid dog. The man originally took her out every day (which totaled about three days in all, then my daughter took over for about two days and I never took over at all – not my dog/project) up until a new computer game came out. Then the dog was inside all day long. At that point, he designated the aviary as the dog poop room. And that's not the worst part (although some of you neat freaks might have already established several worst parts, wait! There's MORE!)
Ginger kept running out the door whenever anyone came or went. I guess having already tasted the outdoors, she grew bored with the a/c and the man yelling to his game people, "Suck on a flame strike M.F (fill in the blanks here)" and ignoring all of the rest of us. So, Ginger set out to have her own adventures without him. And from one of those adventures, he was too late in getting her neutered since a new game had come out, (I can only brow beat so much. I'm only one woman), she came home with child/children/pups.
Upon the glorious day of the birth of Ginger's litter, I returned home from being in town and picking up my daughter from school to find the dog up on my BRAND NEW FUTON, the man on the computer, and puppies and dog birthing and all sorts of crap spewing out on MY BRAND NEW FUTON. It must have been my ear-piercing scream and slamming of the front door that brought him out of his 'suck on a flame-strike' mode and bring his attention to the situation at hand on MY BRAND NEW FUTON.
At that point, he looks at the situation, blinks back to reality, is excited that he's winning the game and there is a miracle of birth happening right in front of him, and then he runs to the linen closet, gets out ONE OF MY BRAND NEW TOWELS and sort of shoves it up under her nether regions that's spewing the above-mentioned birthing crap .. and goes back to his game with a 'sorry honey! But I'm in the middle of a situation here'… yeah, he looked pretty good for a man that close to death and I DON'T mean on the computer game. Butthead.
Well, the old girl had about 8 or so kids. We took pictures, he took the pictures to work and throngs of his postal-worker-mate-guys came and took almost all the butt-headed dogs away. But wait! There's more! Until they could take them, that meant that they needed to stay with their precious mama for SIX WEEKS! And of course they needed to stay on something soft and comfortable, LIKE MY GRAMMA'S FREAKING HAND-APPLIQUED ANTIQUE QUILT! But wait! There's MORE!
When all the little guys pee'd and pooped and made a mess, the man decided that he'd surprise me and clean up! So, he gathered the quilt together, shook it out ON THE FLOOR, and tossed it, WITH BLEACH into our clothes-eating washer and matching clothes-melting dryer! He had his sad, "Honey, I'm sorry" face on upon gathering up all the little formerly brightly colored once-all-together-in-an -artisticially-arranged-design pieces that were now shriveled sort of white things with melted and burned places on them. BUT WAIT! THERE'S SO MUCH MORE!
When he dumped all the little, stinky baby puppy poops on the carpeting, that we ended up ripping out and tossing to the curb (much to our neighbors dismay as the winds changed direction.. down-wind was always relative out where we used to live..) he used my NEW $300 HEAVY DUTY COMMERCIAL VACUUM CLEANER to suck all the fragrant poopies up!.. but wait! There's MORE!!!!
He fell in love with the littlest runt of a puppy.. totally retarded on so many levels (not sure if I'm talking about the man or the baby dog here). Ok, the man became retarded too when we saw this puppy. And the puppy himself is also retarded. He WAS cute, like a little polar bear with an orange/ginger back end and tail. But one of the most stupid dogs I've ever seen in my life. Andrew still lives in the house with his mother and the cats and the man.
Now, being allergic to animals, all of this seriously had, in the six or nine years we were married (sort of a timeless blur of sneezing, swollen eyes and four hits of Primatene mists a day on my part) put a crimp in my love-factor for this man, the house and the local, in-house zoo. So, after a while we congenially (and from my end, with great relief) parted company. We still go to movies together and stuff, but in the five years since we've been apart, I don't think he's ever cleaned the house. Gak and double-gak.
Zip forward six years later: I live in a house with a dog groomer and she baby-sits dogs.
I needed a safe place to stay. An intruder into my life and home decided that he needed to do me harm. Not liking the aspect of dealing with another human being on that level, I figured it was time to blend into the scenery and just find a quiet, easy-going place to live. Henceforth, into my life re-popped up Linda, a lady friend of mine from the past. We'd been acquaintances for about 6 years and had re-acquainted and she mentioned she had a quiet, safe, off the beaten path room to rent. EUREKA!! This could work! Up until I walked into her home the first time. A BIG dog lived there too.. a shepherd. And I was only five feet into the front door when my eyes swelled shut, I was wheezing and breaking out in a rash.
We then went out into the fresh air to a great swimming place and discussed the possibility of my moving in. Seeing what the dander did to me, she apprised me of the fact that she was re-doing her house and had already intended to tear up the carpet and put in tile. So, she asked me to return the next weekend after having done the carpet removal thing and see if I could handle the house after that. I walked in cautiously, was there for several hours without a sneeze! YES! And I moved in the next weekend and have been here about a year.
Now, about 5 months ago, a friend of hers decided to divorce her husband and since she could only take one dog to her new apartment, she brought a little black pug to come and live here. This was ok, once I got used to her looking at me and making snoring sounds. Now I snore like a freight train going through a tunnel, but this dog that weighs about 10 lb has me beat. And she loves coming into my room (this is MY room, thus, the NO DOG ZONE) and falling asleep standing up. Then she wakes up, lowers her head to one of my shoes and goes back to sleep. At that point, I click the volume up on my tv to compensate for her exuberant snoring.
Now, what really pissed me off was when my housemate went on vacation for a week and I had to deal with the dogs. Because this little weasel needs psychiatric help dealing with abandonment issues, she'd come to my room, where I keep the door closed, and pee and poop on the throw-rug in front of my door. Sometimes she did it in my bathroom, but at least I could see the poop nuggets on my light-colored bathroom floor.. I just never saw them in the dark on the floor on the WAY to the bathroom. Slipping going into the door in a nearly total sleepwalking experience, often woke me up. Waking me up in the middle of the night, having to hike my foot up to my waist and washing off the poop and THEN having to clean up the slid-in poop REALLY pissed me off along with the waking me up thing.
I searched the house for something to block her coming to my little end of the house and I located a folding, metal plant stand. HOW CLEVER! I said to myself. So I laid it down, only a little over a foot tall at that point, she's about that tall as well! This could work! So, I covered it with a light colored towel, and drug out my purple Christmas lights to illuminate it so, incase I needed to go into the main part of the house I wouldn't trip over it myself.
So, I'm sitting in my room, my housemate comes in to tell me something and behind her is the pug. WHAT THE….????? "How'd SHE get in here?" I quietly queried. "Well, you know she leaps up into the lounge chair to sleep, this was a small leap for her." CRAP! "Well, maybe she'll forget to come and poop in this end of the house." I hoped. "Right." Linda said and having asked her question, turned and left, the pug trailing behind her and I heard her little feet hit the floor as she flew like Flicka over the purple-lit doggie steeple-chase barrier. CRAP!
Two more poop nights and when my friend, Vera, and I went to Wally World (Walmart, for those of you not knowing the 'hip talk' used nationwide) and went to the baby department (never again.. that's too many babies and moms .. babies upset, moms ignoring them and having a coffee klatch, without the coffee, jamming the aisles) and found a baby gate for about $10 and I brought it home.
I installed this gate (only partially installed because there is base-board trim-work and a wall and the gate doesn't adjust to lock to both… CRAP!) and put the light-colored towel over it and draped the purple Christmas lights over it. Wow, the little creep SURELY can't jump that high! And I was right, only neither can I. And neither can Linda on a bad day if she needs to come back to my room for any reason. CRAP!
So, here I am, working out like a fiend, deep knee bends, jogging place, toe-touches just to lift my freaking leg over the damned gate to get to the other part of the house, which also houses the kitchen. CRAP!
Well, Linda went on a cruise this last week, so I was in charge of taking the two mutleys for their morning and evening poop-fests. I had to alter my life twice a day and although that might not be a problem of five minutes twice a day for some, it slowly eroded my love and joy for dogs, which was about non-existant before, reaching totally non-existant proportions since then.
Every morning for 8 days, I'd throw water on my sleep hair, quickly go to the bathroom myself, and throw my first leg over the gate, hang onto the wall and try to get my hind leg high enough not to snag the gate and totally pitch forward onto the concrete floor. Fear of actually having to land hard and then drag myself off the ground was WAY too much to think about just out of a sound sleep to wade through sand to have one dog poop and pee immediately and the pug have to say hello to every freaking blade of grass till she found THE BEST ONE to stop, squat and drop on or next to. And that was just to pee.. she repeated it soon after for the poop section of her day.
And I'd lose my train of thought and stare off at.. something .. nearly waking myself up snoring standing up, when I'd realize the beasts had woven their leashes around me like a may pole. CRAP! Then I have to unweave myself and guide the weasels back to the front door. Oh, did I mention that if I touch a pet of any sort, I break out in big welts.. Dog sitting has been a many-faceted experience..
The Dog Whisperer.
Linda got back Saturday morning. She had a date Saturday night that lasted through Sunday, when she and the date had to be on a private boat at 10 am in Marco.. my unholy dog incarceration continued a day longer than my excitement level for the task.
So, I drug my butt up AGAIN on my day off at 6, grabbed my leg and staggered over the gate, put the damned leashes on and thought, this is the LAST time!!! She'll be home this eve for SURE!!!! So, after I got back in with the weasels dropping their gifts all over my side of the house.. right under my window.. (I stood there in many a morning stupor in the near light and thought about that .. that I should take them somewhere other than where their delightful fragrance could waft into my room, but then forgot about it as soon as I thought about it and the deeds were done.. guess I was just grateful they stopped, squatted and dropped to be that concerned about WHERE..)
I was basking in the knowledge that I, the Dog Whisperer, was hanging up the leashes for the last time when Linda called later in the day while I was shopping with Vera asking what time I'd be home because DORIAN (I call him Damian, like the devil child in The Omen) was coming over at 5 and she'd forgotten about it and could I be there to greet him.
Now, Damian, er Dorian is a black standard poodle, about the size of a German shepherd.. has been fixed but has no clue that it happened, so he's still humping air and going around in a circle in the middle of the floor all day long. He's a total waste of dog fur, in my opinion, but I'm not his doting, adoring parents.. sheesh. And when he's not going in circles, he's agitated if you tell him to sit down and SHUT UP! And pees on a wall, the couch, the little dog.. it just dribbles out of him in his fear/panic/excitement/breathing .
Luckily, I'd already taken the other two out previous to Dorian's arrival, so all I had to do was let him in the house (I'd crated the other two by Linda's suggestion) and he started agitating the two in the crate. Whining, Howling Banshees comes to mind in regards to the wailing they put up. So, brandishing newspapers (also under Linda's suggestion) I waved it at Dorian, who proceeded to pee where he stood in fear, then turned, ran through it and went into tiny tailspin circles in the living room. The other two dogs just looked at me from the crate grate with their eyes glittering in the kitchen light. I could feel them flipping me off in their minds.
After threatening to find even MORE newspapers in a very loud voice, I dragged my legs over the darned gate and went to my room and shut the door, hoping I'd find dog fur slippers already made by non-dog appreciating little elves by the time I got back. No luck. The ruckus started again.
I called Linda and I think she could tell by the message that my Dog Whispering days were over and I was turning in my Give a Damn about the dogs when I said just that in my message to her, since she didn't immediately answer the phone. Little did I know at that time that the crab boat they were in to go out in to the gulf blew something mechanical and they were having to nurse it slowly back to shore.
Had I known that and the POSSIBLE thought that they'd be lost at sea, needing Coast Guard to find them after four days, my 'get your ass back home NOW' vibes would have been much stronger. But I do feel that even with the actual current strength of those vibes at the moment, the diesel engine angels were working to get the group back to shore to stop an even more heinous situation of my driving away in the car with the front door left open. I'd then arrive back at the house with a surprised look on my face when I came back three days later finding either all three dogs gone, or there waiting for me, pissed because I hadn't filled their dog dishes.
At 10 pm Linda finally got home. The dogs were alive and my door shut, not wanting to know about blood shed or rampant peeing throughout the house.. my watch was over. They were all alive. I did my job. The Dog Whisperer was retired.
I got a scratch on my door.. Linda's way of knocking.. and when I opened it, got a huge hug of thanks from her. "You did great, thanks SO much! I owe ya." (she has NO clue) So, I went to bed, not to sleep, but to have heart palpitations all night thinking about what would have happened if she HADN'T come home by morning.. two dogs I can sort of handle. Three.. I refuse. No-way-Jose. Don't make them hear about me on the morning news.. So I got up this morning, went in for a shower, said to hell with it, my eyes are too tired, I'm going back to bed.
Thus ends my Dog Days of September.. October is a brand new month. Amen and good night..
Bekki J.Shanklin, Copyright 2006, from her "Thinking all the time" series
Monday, October 12, 2009
I'm so glad I never had boys
I'm so glad I never had boys..
I live in a house and rent a room from a very nice lady and good friend of mine. She was gone all last week and it was SOOOOOOOOOOoooooo quiet and peaceful, I just stretched, snuggled down in my bed and listened to the silence.. I could do what I wanted to do and enjoyed every minute of it.
I have found that I used to be a social being, but now enjoy solitude and it being all ME ME ME!!!!!! Well, that ended last Tuesday evening.. My friend, who'd been on vacation came home.. with her two grandsons who are 11 and 13. Oh. My. God..
Back in the day, I'd wanted to sell my most-precious-being-in-the-whole world, sweetest daughter to anyone who came by with $5 from the age of 13 to 16.. and I'd have packed whatever clothes she wanted to take with her on that journey.. but I had no idea about boys..
These two bicker, whine, battle and tattle, pick on each other and talk louder and louder and louder and fight to get computer time. One is a geek and the other is an 'I can give you a smartass answer to whatever you're saying, right in the middle of what ever it is you ARE saying' kind of kid.. they're not evil, they're just trying to find their path.. while kicking rocks into mine..
Are more than one kid in a family like this? Having had just the one (see 'now darling' comments above), and I had previously, while pregnant, refused to have a boy (she was lucky she was a girl or I'd have traded her for a girl at birth to someone who'd wanted a boy if I'd indeed had a boy .. sort of like bringing a covered dish to a gathering.. everyone trading for someone else's food..)
Boys also don't bathe that much.. I guess the fear of water is more prevalent in boys than in girls (unless there is a swimming pool handy, then you can't get them OUT of the water) .. but these two sure know what they want at this age.. the geek states that he'll never have a girlfriend, especially if she would take away from his computer time. And the younger one wants 4 kids.. one of each (huh?).. he backtracked on that one after I actually did say, "Huh?"
But, I HAVE instilled in them many little nature nuggets on how to comport themselves in the future that will win them more friends (including future wives and live-in girlfriends) and influence more people than the way they were going when they got here on Tuesday.
Rule number 1: When you use my bathroom, you flush (didn't know that needed reminding, but there you are), you put the lid down (foremost rule.. if you watched Myth Busters you know that flush sends crap ~ and I mean that ~ up 6 feet which floats all over the area for the next two hours and DOES land on your toothbrush.. gak..) ok, it's for the gak factor and the fact that I could, at any or several times in the night (damned older age) and drop for more feet than I'd like (you know that fear of falling dream?) and end up in icy and perhaps gakky water.. double gak.. and wake up the whole house with my screams and cursing.. don't worry, they already know those words..
Rule number 2: Still bathroom rules, dry off IN the bathtub and don't sop up my throw rug. It's ok, it CAN be done..
Rule number 3: Still bathroom rules, but shake the curtain to get rid of the excess water, then close the curtain after you turn off the water.. it helps also to help dry and not corrode or mold the curtain before its time and I don't have to wear out my arms stretching to replace the liner before it's time, or I'm ready to do it.. once a year works well for me..
And rule number 4: Quit bickering, whining, battling and tattling, picking on each other and talking louder and louder and louder and giving smartass answer to whatever someone's saying, right in the middle of what ever it is they ARE saying.. it's unattractive and doesn't win friends and make people like being around you on any level... until I leave the room.. which is often and for great lengths of time. Luckily they leave (hopefully alive) on Wednesday morning.. it will have been a LONG week..
And for those of you with little boys.. or more than one kid in general.. god bless ya and good luck.. I can see if they have Over the Counter Children's Chewable Valium, orange-flavored, Flintstone-shaped, in bottles of a couple of thousand or so.. not sure who it would be for, you or the kids..
Until then, please, my precious baby girlie.. I'm too young to have grandkids.. for about another 49 years or so.. ok? (Hoping that goes from my lips to my girl's earrings..)
But I love you, my girl!
Mama
Bekki Shanklin, copyright 2006, from her 'Thinking all the time' series
I live in a house and rent a room from a very nice lady and good friend of mine. She was gone all last week and it was SOOOOOOOOOOoooooo quiet and peaceful, I just stretched, snuggled down in my bed and listened to the silence.. I could do what I wanted to do and enjoyed every minute of it.
I have found that I used to be a social being, but now enjoy solitude and it being all ME ME ME!!!!!! Well, that ended last Tuesday evening.. My friend, who'd been on vacation came home.. with her two grandsons who are 11 and 13. Oh. My. God..
Back in the day, I'd wanted to sell my most-precious-being-in-the-whole world, sweetest daughter to anyone who came by with $5 from the age of 13 to 16.. and I'd have packed whatever clothes she wanted to take with her on that journey.. but I had no idea about boys..
These two bicker, whine, battle and tattle, pick on each other and talk louder and louder and louder and fight to get computer time. One is a geek and the other is an 'I can give you a smartass answer to whatever you're saying, right in the middle of what ever it is you ARE saying' kind of kid.. they're not evil, they're just trying to find their path.. while kicking rocks into mine..
Are more than one kid in a family like this? Having had just the one (see 'now darling' comments above), and I had previously, while pregnant, refused to have a boy (she was lucky she was a girl or I'd have traded her for a girl at birth to someone who'd wanted a boy if I'd indeed had a boy .. sort of like bringing a covered dish to a gathering.. everyone trading for someone else's food..)
Boys also don't bathe that much.. I guess the fear of water is more prevalent in boys than in girls (unless there is a swimming pool handy, then you can't get them OUT of the water) .. but these two sure know what they want at this age.. the geek states that he'll never have a girlfriend, especially if she would take away from his computer time. And the younger one wants 4 kids.. one of each (huh?).. he backtracked on that one after I actually did say, "Huh?"
But, I HAVE instilled in them many little nature nuggets on how to comport themselves in the future that will win them more friends (including future wives and live-in girlfriends) and influence more people than the way they were going when they got here on Tuesday.
Rule number 1: When you use my bathroom, you flush (didn't know that needed reminding, but there you are), you put the lid down (foremost rule.. if you watched Myth Busters you know that flush sends crap ~ and I mean that ~ up 6 feet which floats all over the area for the next two hours and DOES land on your toothbrush.. gak..) ok, it's for the gak factor and the fact that I could, at any or several times in the night (damned older age) and drop for more feet than I'd like (you know that fear of falling dream?) and end up in icy and perhaps gakky water.. double gak.. and wake up the whole house with my screams and cursing.. don't worry, they already know those words..
Rule number 2: Still bathroom rules, dry off IN the bathtub and don't sop up my throw rug. It's ok, it CAN be done..
Rule number 3: Still bathroom rules, but shake the curtain to get rid of the excess water, then close the curtain after you turn off the water.. it helps also to help dry and not corrode or mold the curtain before its time and I don't have to wear out my arms stretching to replace the liner before it's time, or I'm ready to do it.. once a year works well for me..
And rule number 4: Quit bickering, whining, battling and tattling, picking on each other and talking louder and louder and louder and giving smartass answer to whatever someone's saying, right in the middle of what ever it is they ARE saying.. it's unattractive and doesn't win friends and make people like being around you on any level... until I leave the room.. which is often and for great lengths of time. Luckily they leave (hopefully alive) on Wednesday morning.. it will have been a LONG week..
And for those of you with little boys.. or more than one kid in general.. god bless ya and good luck.. I can see if they have Over the Counter Children's Chewable Valium, orange-flavored, Flintstone-shaped, in bottles of a couple of thousand or so.. not sure who it would be for, you or the kids..
Until then, please, my precious baby girlie.. I'm too young to have grandkids.. for about another 49 years or so.. ok? (Hoping that goes from my lips to my girl's earrings..)
But I love you, my girl!
Mama
Bekki Shanklin, copyright 2006, from her 'Thinking all the time' series
Listen to the Silence
Listen to the silence..
I have heard music all my life.. I’ve heard loving words, yelling, laughing, sirens, talking, birds chirping on a beautiful spring morning. I am a vocalist and musician. I have four octaves and have been told I have an amazing voice. I sing and listen to music all the time.
I was in a relationship with a man who is deaf. He has never heard the emotion of music. He will never know that some music is so wonderful and amazing that will break his heart and bring tears to his eyes because of its beauty and emotion. He will never hear me sing.
When I moved to south Florida with its subtropical climate, I started getting severe earaches. Each time, antibiotics cleared it up from the pain, to that rolling metal ball feel and then suddenly I noticed that it was just .. gone .. and my life went on as usual but with only a loud surf in my head. The louder it got, the louder my voice got in my head and I started to speak very softly. My husband would touch my hand and I could see his lips ask me to speak up. When I did, it was shouting in my head.
One time, though, I never felt the pain, and for a month and a half I was deaf. When my husband and I were in the store, he’d touch my hand and mouth the words asking if I needed whatever was on the shelf. One morning I woke up and my daughter came out of her room with her hands over her ears as a water heater has burst in the apartment above, there was water flowing out of all of the electrical outlets and the smoke alarm was going off incessantly. I didn’t hear it. But I also didn’t think about correcting it but somehow, deep inside, I knew it wasn’t permanent.
The final straw was when I took my daughter to school and when I got home my neighbor came up to me telling me I was about to blow my engine because there was no oil in it and it was making horrid sounds.
I immediately went in and got my husband and went back to the clinic and in two days I had my hearing back. I’d had the surf in my ears and head for so long that the silence of no surf sounds was deafening.. I could hear birds and sirens. I could hear my beloved daughter talking to me and I could hear her laugh.
My friend, Greg, will never get antibiotics to make him hear. Going to movies in theatres for him is very hard work. He has to watch lips and actions and the actor is speaking with his back to the camera, what he’s saying is lost.
I had my Josh Groban CD playing in my car and knowing how his music was affecting me wrenched my heart that Greg couldn’t hear his words of love that he was singing. I switched to Kenny Loggins. I kept putting in more and more touching music. Paul Potts.. Greg will never hear ‘Nessan Dorma’. Greg will never be able to go to Dinner Theatre with me and enjoy the productions as I do. But.. Greg has more to him than just not being able to hear. Greg has the joy of life. So many people don’t. They just ‘get through’ the day.
My friend Linda and I were talking about what would we do with ourselves if we lost our hearing.. as you read, I’ve sort of been there.. our sight .. I did a little bit of that as well. Once, in Salt Lake City, where I ran a sod yard and had to be on the lot by 6 am. So as not to waken my roommates, I learned to take showers, get dressed, etc (including shaving) in total darkness with my eyes closed. I could do it, but I’d hate every second of it.
But if it really would happen, what would we do with our lives? I’m a musician, artist and photographer. What would I do? What would I do if I couldn’t hear OR see? The mind boggles.
I enjoyed having this man in my life for as long as we were supposed to hang out. He and another disabled man were both in my life for a major reason. Both are nearly mensa with their intelligence. The other man, Tony, gifted me with a production computer where I can do my part filming and editing documentaries. I can create gentle meditations. We can do so many wonderful things with this medium I’ve longed to have in hand for decades. My gratitude in knowing these wonderful people is endless.
And we are all in this together to do great works. We are here to bring awareness to others what I had no clue of. And it’s going to be amazing.. and truly humbling. Especially for me.. I am blown away with what I’m learning and I will bring to you all what I learn as the adventure goes on.
Copyright 2008, From Bekki Shanklin’s “Thinking all the time” series
I have heard music all my life.. I’ve heard loving words, yelling, laughing, sirens, talking, birds chirping on a beautiful spring morning. I am a vocalist and musician. I have four octaves and have been told I have an amazing voice. I sing and listen to music all the time.
I was in a relationship with a man who is deaf. He has never heard the emotion of music. He will never know that some music is so wonderful and amazing that will break his heart and bring tears to his eyes because of its beauty and emotion. He will never hear me sing.
When I moved to south Florida with its subtropical climate, I started getting severe earaches. Each time, antibiotics cleared it up from the pain, to that rolling metal ball feel and then suddenly I noticed that it was just .. gone .. and my life went on as usual but with only a loud surf in my head. The louder it got, the louder my voice got in my head and I started to speak very softly. My husband would touch my hand and I could see his lips ask me to speak up. When I did, it was shouting in my head.
One time, though, I never felt the pain, and for a month and a half I was deaf. When my husband and I were in the store, he’d touch my hand and mouth the words asking if I needed whatever was on the shelf. One morning I woke up and my daughter came out of her room with her hands over her ears as a water heater has burst in the apartment above, there was water flowing out of all of the electrical outlets and the smoke alarm was going off incessantly. I didn’t hear it. But I also didn’t think about correcting it but somehow, deep inside, I knew it wasn’t permanent.
The final straw was when I took my daughter to school and when I got home my neighbor came up to me telling me I was about to blow my engine because there was no oil in it and it was making horrid sounds.
I immediately went in and got my husband and went back to the clinic and in two days I had my hearing back. I’d had the surf in my ears and head for so long that the silence of no surf sounds was deafening.. I could hear birds and sirens. I could hear my beloved daughter talking to me and I could hear her laugh.
My friend, Greg, will never get antibiotics to make him hear. Going to movies in theatres for him is very hard work. He has to watch lips and actions and the actor is speaking with his back to the camera, what he’s saying is lost.
I had my Josh Groban CD playing in my car and knowing how his music was affecting me wrenched my heart that Greg couldn’t hear his words of love that he was singing. I switched to Kenny Loggins. I kept putting in more and more touching music. Paul Potts.. Greg will never hear ‘Nessan Dorma’. Greg will never be able to go to Dinner Theatre with me and enjoy the productions as I do. But.. Greg has more to him than just not being able to hear. Greg has the joy of life. So many people don’t. They just ‘get through’ the day.
My friend Linda and I were talking about what would we do with ourselves if we lost our hearing.. as you read, I’ve sort of been there.. our sight .. I did a little bit of that as well. Once, in Salt Lake City, where I ran a sod yard and had to be on the lot by 6 am. So as not to waken my roommates, I learned to take showers, get dressed, etc (including shaving) in total darkness with my eyes closed. I could do it, but I’d hate every second of it.
But if it really would happen, what would we do with our lives? I’m a musician, artist and photographer. What would I do? What would I do if I couldn’t hear OR see? The mind boggles.
I enjoyed having this man in my life for as long as we were supposed to hang out. He and another disabled man were both in my life for a major reason. Both are nearly mensa with their intelligence. The other man, Tony, gifted me with a production computer where I can do my part filming and editing documentaries. I can create gentle meditations. We can do so many wonderful things with this medium I’ve longed to have in hand for decades. My gratitude in knowing these wonderful people is endless.
And we are all in this together to do great works. We are here to bring awareness to others what I had no clue of. And it’s going to be amazing.. and truly humbling. Especially for me.. I am blown away with what I’m learning and I will bring to you all what I learn as the adventure goes on.
Copyright 2008, From Bekki Shanklin’s “Thinking all the time” series
The Power Girls Day Out
The Power Girl's Day Out!
What a cool day we had today!
Last Monday, I went to my friend, Lois’, house and helped her set up a blog and did some website work for her and in the meantime, since I had to register her for an email address, I learned that her birthday was that following Thursday. Pocketing this information quietly and sneakily into my memory banks, I just didn’t say much, but kept a secret smile on my face for the next couple of days.
Upon returning home, my little devilish horns came out and I alerted our other two close gal pals, Vera and Sally, that Lois’ birthday was Thursday, what should we do about it? Once the news was out, we started planning a big surprise for her for that following Saturday.. but wait! We should probably find out what Lois was actually DOING that Saturday, April 1st, which would make or break our little surprise.
Putting Vera and Sally into a sort of ‘holding pattern’ I told them I’d get back with them. Calling Lois, I did find out that after her usual, successful yard sailing morning, she was ‘at her leisure’ for the rest of the afternoon.. ‘why,’ she asked? ‘Oh,’ I said, ‘Vera and Sally wanted to know if we all wanted to trek to Sally’s and have a Power Girls Afternoon of lunch and chatter!’ Lois said to count her in! Whoo-hoo! The sneaky stage was set!
Getting back with Vera and Sally, we quietly and with determination set the stage for a day of surprises!
Saturday in Florida dawned bright, warm and beautiful. Lois had decided to come around 12:30 and pick me up first, then drive across town to gather up Vera and then we’d pick up lunch and head out to Sally’s house. Sally lives in what used to be ‘the country’ part of Lee County.. now she’s surrounded by new highway and home building and we never get to her house the same way because of all the construction.
As we drove out we were just chattering away, like girl friends do, when I looked up and said, “Turn right HERE!!!!!” So, being the quick and great driver that she is, Lois wrenched the wheel and made the turn onto a sort of service road that would take us to Sally’s little house. Since we’d stopped at The Colonel’s for chicken and sodas, the sodas went air-borne and THANKFULLY.. and with much surprise .. the lids stayed on and there was no great crash and splash with the turn.. the Universe was totally looking out for us today!
But I digress.. we got to Sally’s house and said hello to her husband, who decided that being scarce was the better part of valor.. so we didn’t see him again as he quietly made his way to the computer room and stayed there quietly.. (we were teasing him about getting into a thong and being a Chippendale dancer, because we’d all brought dollar bills! LOL.. but alas, it was not to be.. ) I’m sure we heard a sigh of relief when he was creeping quietly and unobserved into the other room and we were distracted by Sally bringing out Lois’ birthday cake.
About my birthday card to Lois .. I stopped at a grocery store that was closing and saw just the card.. checking my watch.. grabbed the card and an envelope.. it was only today that I found that the card was about an inch larger than the envelope.. but she loved the card anyway and got a nice envelope that she can use .. for something .. Thank heaven I’m cute.. LOL
Anyway, after the cake we were having a wonderful conversation when my cell phone rang. It was my beautiful daughter, Anjelica, who is in the Orlando area and an Athletic Trainer. And uttered horrific words.. “MOM!!!!! I just had a horrible accident.. I hit someone and my car insurance lapsed! What should I DO???”
Lois, who was sitting across from me said I went white as a sheet .. with holes for my eyes and my mouth was a big O. Suddenly all four of us were in ‘protect the kid’ mode. We were all thinking what she needed to do next.. how to protect her from a law suit making her pay someone for the rest of her life, or worse! Four executives, educated, maternal, with protective and cunning minds trying to plan instantly what to do to save our Universal baby girl.
And then came the laughter. “APRIL FOOLS!!” And then we four executives, educated, maternal, protective mamas got pissed!!!!! I just passed the phone to each.. after we determined that she was truly safe, had her insurance paid up and hadn’t wrecked the car, we each told her that paybacks were just waiting to happen! There was a lot of mentioning of spankings and butt kicking.. (now remember, Lois just turned 70, Vera is 67, Sally is 61 and I will be turning 57 this August). I passed the phone to each of the others, in turn, and all spoke to her threatening reciprocation with the possibility of us all working-out to practice getting our legs high enough to kick her cute little tushey! The little wench-lette was still laughing uproariously. (We’ll get you, my pretty, and your little dog too! Remember, old and cunning outwits young and cute, every day!!!)
The thought of her being in trouble scared each of us. At that point, it was necessary to rejuvenate ourselves with another small piece of cake and the fanning of our hot, ‘coming off a huge fright’ faces with our napkins in fear for her, which quickly turned to ‘why that little pest!’, totally wore us out.
Soon after, with much relieved laughter, gratefulness of such a wonderful day of camaraderie, fine food and the need for Lois to get back to her place for a couple of rounds of Texas Hold Em with her park friends, broke up our fabulous afternoon.
Vera, Lois and I hugged and kissed Sally goodbye, and promptly got lost on our way back to the highway at the front of her house and waved all three times we passed her house trying to get back on the road .. and finally were on our way. We then dropped off a still-chuckling Vera, who began planning paybacks for the chicklette. Then Lois dropped me off. Hugs and kisses all around.
What a fabulous day with some of the most wonderful women on the planet. We’re planning another Power Girls Day Out Saturday afternoon again soon in the future.. we won’t tell my daughter.. we need it to be a quiet, non-stressful time to laugh and have lunch and yammer-on afternoon.
Bekki Shanklin, copyright 2006, from her “Thinking All The Time” series.
What a cool day we had today!
Last Monday, I went to my friend, Lois’, house and helped her set up a blog and did some website work for her and in the meantime, since I had to register her for an email address, I learned that her birthday was that following Thursday. Pocketing this information quietly and sneakily into my memory banks, I just didn’t say much, but kept a secret smile on my face for the next couple of days.
Upon returning home, my little devilish horns came out and I alerted our other two close gal pals, Vera and Sally, that Lois’ birthday was Thursday, what should we do about it? Once the news was out, we started planning a big surprise for her for that following Saturday.. but wait! We should probably find out what Lois was actually DOING that Saturday, April 1st, which would make or break our little surprise.
Putting Vera and Sally into a sort of ‘holding pattern’ I told them I’d get back with them. Calling Lois, I did find out that after her usual, successful yard sailing morning, she was ‘at her leisure’ for the rest of the afternoon.. ‘why,’ she asked? ‘Oh,’ I said, ‘Vera and Sally wanted to know if we all wanted to trek to Sally’s and have a Power Girls Afternoon of lunch and chatter!’ Lois said to count her in! Whoo-hoo! The sneaky stage was set!
Getting back with Vera and Sally, we quietly and with determination set the stage for a day of surprises!
Saturday in Florida dawned bright, warm and beautiful. Lois had decided to come around 12:30 and pick me up first, then drive across town to gather up Vera and then we’d pick up lunch and head out to Sally’s house. Sally lives in what used to be ‘the country’ part of Lee County.. now she’s surrounded by new highway and home building and we never get to her house the same way because of all the construction.
As we drove out we were just chattering away, like girl friends do, when I looked up and said, “Turn right HERE!!!!!” So, being the quick and great driver that she is, Lois wrenched the wheel and made the turn onto a sort of service road that would take us to Sally’s little house. Since we’d stopped at The Colonel’s for chicken and sodas, the sodas went air-borne and THANKFULLY.. and with much surprise .. the lids stayed on and there was no great crash and splash with the turn.. the Universe was totally looking out for us today!
But I digress.. we got to Sally’s house and said hello to her husband, who decided that being scarce was the better part of valor.. so we didn’t see him again as he quietly made his way to the computer room and stayed there quietly.. (we were teasing him about getting into a thong and being a Chippendale dancer, because we’d all brought dollar bills! LOL.. but alas, it was not to be.. ) I’m sure we heard a sigh of relief when he was creeping quietly and unobserved into the other room and we were distracted by Sally bringing out Lois’ birthday cake.
About my birthday card to Lois .. I stopped at a grocery store that was closing and saw just the card.. checking my watch.. grabbed the card and an envelope.. it was only today that I found that the card was about an inch larger than the envelope.. but she loved the card anyway and got a nice envelope that she can use .. for something .. Thank heaven I’m cute.. LOL
Anyway, after the cake we were having a wonderful conversation when my cell phone rang. It was my beautiful daughter, Anjelica, who is in the Orlando area and an Athletic Trainer. And uttered horrific words.. “MOM!!!!! I just had a horrible accident.. I hit someone and my car insurance lapsed! What should I DO???”
Lois, who was sitting across from me said I went white as a sheet .. with holes for my eyes and my mouth was a big O. Suddenly all four of us were in ‘protect the kid’ mode. We were all thinking what she needed to do next.. how to protect her from a law suit making her pay someone for the rest of her life, or worse! Four executives, educated, maternal, with protective and cunning minds trying to plan instantly what to do to save our Universal baby girl.
And then came the laughter. “APRIL FOOLS!!” And then we four executives, educated, maternal, protective mamas got pissed!!!!! I just passed the phone to each.. after we determined that she was truly safe, had her insurance paid up and hadn’t wrecked the car, we each told her that paybacks were just waiting to happen! There was a lot of mentioning of spankings and butt kicking.. (now remember, Lois just turned 70, Vera is 67, Sally is 61 and I will be turning 57 this August). I passed the phone to each of the others, in turn, and all spoke to her threatening reciprocation with the possibility of us all working-out to practice getting our legs high enough to kick her cute little tushey! The little wench-lette was still laughing uproariously. (We’ll get you, my pretty, and your little dog too! Remember, old and cunning outwits young and cute, every day!!!)
The thought of her being in trouble scared each of us. At that point, it was necessary to rejuvenate ourselves with another small piece of cake and the fanning of our hot, ‘coming off a huge fright’ faces with our napkins in fear for her, which quickly turned to ‘why that little pest!’, totally wore us out.
Soon after, with much relieved laughter, gratefulness of such a wonderful day of camaraderie, fine food and the need for Lois to get back to her place for a couple of rounds of Texas Hold Em with her park friends, broke up our fabulous afternoon.
Vera, Lois and I hugged and kissed Sally goodbye, and promptly got lost on our way back to the highway at the front of her house and waved all three times we passed her house trying to get back on the road .. and finally were on our way. We then dropped off a still-chuckling Vera, who began planning paybacks for the chicklette. Then Lois dropped me off. Hugs and kisses all around.
What a fabulous day with some of the most wonderful women on the planet. We’re planning another Power Girls Day Out Saturday afternoon again soon in the future.. we won’t tell my daughter.. we need it to be a quiet, non-stressful time to laugh and have lunch and yammer-on afternoon.
Bekki Shanklin, copyright 2006, from her “Thinking All The Time” series.
I sold my lawnmower today
I sold my lawnmower today
About 3 years ago, I decided, because I was living in a house with a yard and had roommates that wanted to do yard work, I'd whip out and buy a lawnmower. A really nice one. A red one. I was told on the tag that when you hold the little bar up tight against the horizontal handle, it would help propel the mower and if the one pushing the mower, fell, slipped, stepped in a rabbit hole or in any other way passed out and let go of the handle, the mower would stop immediately.
I took this as gospel, since I was never going to be the one pushing the mower, in any way, for any reason. My roommate, although he would have probably appreciated a John Deer mini-tractor of some sort that allowed you to sit on it, turn on a dime and had a cup holder that would fit a Big Gulp, but he just got a mower that cost a little over $100.
Well, he used the mower about 4 times, and then decided that he'd just sink his money into a yard man to come every week, whip out HIS riding mower, take 10 minutes to do the largess of my small yard, ride the thing back up on the trailer. And go away.
So, to store the mower after each time it was used (remember, all four times), he washed, polished, took tweezers to any stray piece of grass that tried to hide from his discerning eye. He didn't want to use the mower, but he felt he would be abusive to it if he didn't clean it like new each time (remember, all four times) that he broke it out and wandered around the yard with the mighty red beast.
He did enjoy the mowing, when he was in the mood, but he really hated making ever-diminishing squares, so every time (remember, all four times) he'd mow, after the first time, which means all the rest of the time.. three times.. he'd do a figure 8's, circles, and triangles (which when butted together were really squares, but I didn't want to ruin his fun), and that was the extent of his yard mowing.
He would sit and watch the yard guy and his assistant, a really sturdy, well-molded woman that would come with the yard guy. She turned out to be his girlfriend, but my roommate would take them water and then talk to the girl as she did the trim work around the house. He would tell her how he loved being in the outdoors. He stopped talking to her when she told him she hated working in the outdoors, but her 'old man' lost all his help and she had to drag with him each day. He said, "oh." And came back in the house, and got lost in his computer game. But I digress...
I moved to a mobile home park and had a little yard, so I thought, 'What the heck? I'll get the lawnmower out of storage and mow this puppy myself!" So, being the Amazonian woman I felt I was at that moment, I drove my car to the shed, folded the mower handle back on itself, hoisted it into my trunk, all by myself. Then I stopped at the gas station and got 2 gallons of gas, got everything all ready .. and the darned thing wouldn't start.
A helpful neighbor came over, cleaned the spark plug, primed the little pump (where the heck do people learn to DO this stuff???), and vaVOOM! The little red beast cranked right up! Whoo-hoo! The neighbor looked at me with a question in his eyes, and I stepped up and said, "Thanks so much! I'm going to mow the yard!" He stepped back, still holding the bar up against the handle and I took over. The captain of my own ship, and facilitator of making a beautiful yard! Here I GO!!!!!
Dang. About 50 steps into this project I was silently begging for someone to shoot me now. But, seeing my neighbors, including the one who got the darned thing going, were bent over a car engine as if they were really trying to fix it, but every time I'd stop to wipe sweat out of my eyes and happen to glance over, they quickly looked back earnestly at the car engine instead of flat out watching me.
I noticed that they'd put the cell phone right on the fender next to where they were working. I later found out that my face was so red, my face with such a grim expression on it and my arms shaking more than the vibration of the mower itself, that they thought they'd have to call 9-1-1. About 40 minutes later, seemed like three years, I staggered through the last width of grass and let go of the handle and the mower stopped short and there was quiet. Except of course the thundering in my ears and I kept trying to wipe the spots that kept swirling around in my eyes away.
I dragged the mower back beside the steps to my door, sat down and breathed deeply and willed my heart to slow down.. not stop.. but just ease up just a little. The black spots were moving straight to the iridescent. The neighbors, by that time, were asking me something. When my throbbing heart slowed and my hearing came back, and my glasses unfeigned, I smiled, wiped my forehead on my grass-shredded forearm and said, "No, I'm fine! I DID IT!!!! Whoo-hoo!!"
What I can't understand was, after I grooved on mowing my own yard that first time, and I would get gas at the station on the corner and get home with it, my yard was mowed, weed-whacked, leaf blown.. and I never got another chance to mow my yard again.
So yesterday, I happened to mention that I was selling my mower to a co-worker and he jumped right on it. He wanted the mower for his son so the son could start mowing yards and making spending money for his x-box stuff.. whatever that is, heck, I just learned to start up the lawnmower.
Bekki Shanklin, copyright 2006, from her "Thinking all the time" series
About 3 years ago, I decided, because I was living in a house with a yard and had roommates that wanted to do yard work, I'd whip out and buy a lawnmower. A really nice one. A red one. I was told on the tag that when you hold the little bar up tight against the horizontal handle, it would help propel the mower and if the one pushing the mower, fell, slipped, stepped in a rabbit hole or in any other way passed out and let go of the handle, the mower would stop immediately.
I took this as gospel, since I was never going to be the one pushing the mower, in any way, for any reason. My roommate, although he would have probably appreciated a John Deer mini-tractor of some sort that allowed you to sit on it, turn on a dime and had a cup holder that would fit a Big Gulp, but he just got a mower that cost a little over $100.
Well, he used the mower about 4 times, and then decided that he'd just sink his money into a yard man to come every week, whip out HIS riding mower, take 10 minutes to do the largess of my small yard, ride the thing back up on the trailer. And go away.
So, to store the mower after each time it was used (remember, all four times), he washed, polished, took tweezers to any stray piece of grass that tried to hide from his discerning eye. He didn't want to use the mower, but he felt he would be abusive to it if he didn't clean it like new each time (remember, all four times) that he broke it out and wandered around the yard with the mighty red beast.
He did enjoy the mowing, when he was in the mood, but he really hated making ever-diminishing squares, so every time (remember, all four times) he'd mow, after the first time, which means all the rest of the time.. three times.. he'd do a figure 8's, circles, and triangles (which when butted together were really squares, but I didn't want to ruin his fun), and that was the extent of his yard mowing.
He would sit and watch the yard guy and his assistant, a really sturdy, well-molded woman that would come with the yard guy. She turned out to be his girlfriend, but my roommate would take them water and then talk to the girl as she did the trim work around the house. He would tell her how he loved being in the outdoors. He stopped talking to her when she told him she hated working in the outdoors, but her 'old man' lost all his help and she had to drag with him each day. He said, "oh." And came back in the house, and got lost in his computer game. But I digress...
I moved to a mobile home park and had a little yard, so I thought, 'What the heck? I'll get the lawnmower out of storage and mow this puppy myself!" So, being the Amazonian woman I felt I was at that moment, I drove my car to the shed, folded the mower handle back on itself, hoisted it into my trunk, all by myself. Then I stopped at the gas station and got 2 gallons of gas, got everything all ready .. and the darned thing wouldn't start.
A helpful neighbor came over, cleaned the spark plug, primed the little pump (where the heck do people learn to DO this stuff???), and vaVOOM! The little red beast cranked right up! Whoo-hoo! The neighbor looked at me with a question in his eyes, and I stepped up and said, "Thanks so much! I'm going to mow the yard!" He stepped back, still holding the bar up against the handle and I took over. The captain of my own ship, and facilitator of making a beautiful yard! Here I GO!!!!!
Dang. About 50 steps into this project I was silently begging for someone to shoot me now. But, seeing my neighbors, including the one who got the darned thing going, were bent over a car engine as if they were really trying to fix it, but every time I'd stop to wipe sweat out of my eyes and happen to glance over, they quickly looked back earnestly at the car engine instead of flat out watching me.
I noticed that they'd put the cell phone right on the fender next to where they were working. I later found out that my face was so red, my face with such a grim expression on it and my arms shaking more than the vibration of the mower itself, that they thought they'd have to call 9-1-1. About 40 minutes later, seemed like three years, I staggered through the last width of grass and let go of the handle and the mower stopped short and there was quiet. Except of course the thundering in my ears and I kept trying to wipe the spots that kept swirling around in my eyes away.
I dragged the mower back beside the steps to my door, sat down and breathed deeply and willed my heart to slow down.. not stop.. but just ease up just a little. The black spots were moving straight to the iridescent. The neighbors, by that time, were asking me something. When my throbbing heart slowed and my hearing came back, and my glasses unfeigned, I smiled, wiped my forehead on my grass-shredded forearm and said, "No, I'm fine! I DID IT!!!! Whoo-hoo!!"
What I can't understand was, after I grooved on mowing my own yard that first time, and I would get gas at the station on the corner and get home with it, my yard was mowed, weed-whacked, leaf blown.. and I never got another chance to mow my yard again.
So yesterday, I happened to mention that I was selling my mower to a co-worker and he jumped right on it. He wanted the mower for his son so the son could start mowing yards and making spending money for his x-box stuff.. whatever that is, heck, I just learned to start up the lawnmower.
Bekki Shanklin, copyright 2006, from her "Thinking all the time" series
At the Batting Cage
An Interesting Day at the Batting Cage
A good friend of mine was in town yesterday afternoon and where did he want to go? not to the new butterfly garden with the flowers and stuff.. not to a movie where sitting down in the dark appeals to me, not a cool restaurant (again with the sitting down thing).. but to Mike Greenwell's to play the arcade, go into the batting cages and play miniature golf.
So, I thought to myself, ok, I'll play your silly reindeer games and I met him there.. first of all .. the arcade.. smelled pretty good.. fragrant disinfectant smell-good.. but then I remembered that a LOT of ppl/kids/etc touch all this stuff and I don't see the attendants running around with clorox wipes cleaning up after everyone's touching the stuff.
I survived the boredom of two air hockey games. HINT: do NOT put your hand on the railing w your fingers hanging over it.. it's a magnet for that puck-thing.. but I was able to use both hands, alternatingly to work the muscles on both arms, so that was cool.. Then we raced souped up cars.. I chose the baja run a couple of times and kept hitting coyotes.. the graphics didn't seem to mind running over the cacti and coyotes and big rocks..
My top speed was 58mph.. felt at LEAST like 59. But I digress..
I did like the toss the ball up a 'thing' and under a net to see what hole it went into.. the more points I got to, the more tickets rolled out.. I was then able to attain the epitome of 9 tickets.. thus got 3 tootsie roll minis and it was all good.. But THEN.. I wanted to go to the batting cages.. I had to don a helmet that only 1220000000 other people had previously donned, but they sprayed it w lysol for me.. whew.. did I feel better! and she asked what bat I wanted.. I said 'one of those there on the wall'.. she asked, 'softball or hardball?' I said, "gimme a bat".. she handed me one. My friend got a heavier one.. we went out and kept walking around until we got to the 'grounders' cage.. ok, slowpitch maybe it was listed.. but I did pretty good.. I hit some right-handed, then I switched arms and hit some left-handed. With whatever action sport I do, I alternate hands/arms so that I'm sore on both sides as well as 'worked out' vs just in major pain on one side only.
I discovered I'm an equal opportunity ball misser.. but some actually connected.. and the more I swung and played, the more connected. The more my body hurt.. but the action of hitting the ball.. oh, yeah, I had a REAL hitter stance.. pfft.. but I did get some movement in that I'm not used to, as witnessed trying to roll out of my waterbed this morning.. a sad and sorry sight.
But I'd love to go back to the batting cage, missing the previously touched 'stuff' inside the arcade, and keep the exercise going.. luckily I had taken off my glasses as when I did it before 30 years ago, they fogged up and I couldn't see the ball coming.. and this time, I could see it and didn't get all sweaty. I passed on the miniature golf.. I was done..
I just don't compete and he was trying to get me to the fast ball cage to see how many he could hit vs me.. I passed when I heard the sound of the ball hitting the pad on the back of the cage and if I'd be hit, it would hurt FAR more than 'my love of the game'.. and frankly, my give a damn is broken when it comes to how many points someone makes vs another .. pfft.. next.. then he punched my arm saying 'come ON!!! get INTO it!!!' I punched him back and said, "NAH.. where should we eat?" but I jogged over to my car! man, I felt SO good!!!!!
Anyway, on a side note, my peace sign bags seem to the first choice for most ppl.. and Whoopie Goldberg is wearing a shirt w a big one on it today too! Interesting..
Copyright 2008, From Bekki Shanklin’s “Thinking all the time” series
A good friend of mine was in town yesterday afternoon and where did he want to go? not to the new butterfly garden with the flowers and stuff.. not to a movie where sitting down in the dark appeals to me, not a cool restaurant (again with the sitting down thing).. but to Mike Greenwell's to play the arcade, go into the batting cages and play miniature golf.
So, I thought to myself, ok, I'll play your silly reindeer games and I met him there.. first of all .. the arcade.. smelled pretty good.. fragrant disinfectant smell-good.. but then I remembered that a LOT of ppl/kids/etc touch all this stuff and I don't see the attendants running around with clorox wipes cleaning up after everyone's touching the stuff.
I survived the boredom of two air hockey games. HINT: do NOT put your hand on the railing w your fingers hanging over it.. it's a magnet for that puck-thing.. but I was able to use both hands, alternatingly to work the muscles on both arms, so that was cool.. Then we raced souped up cars.. I chose the baja run a couple of times and kept hitting coyotes.. the graphics didn't seem to mind running over the cacti and coyotes and big rocks..
My top speed was 58mph.. felt at LEAST like 59. But I digress..
I did like the toss the ball up a 'thing' and under a net to see what hole it went into.. the more points I got to, the more tickets rolled out.. I was then able to attain the epitome of 9 tickets.. thus got 3 tootsie roll minis and it was all good.. But THEN.. I wanted to go to the batting cages.. I had to don a helmet that only 1220000000 other people had previously donned, but they sprayed it w lysol for me.. whew.. did I feel better! and she asked what bat I wanted.. I said 'one of those there on the wall'.. she asked, 'softball or hardball?' I said, "gimme a bat".. she handed me one. My friend got a heavier one.. we went out and kept walking around until we got to the 'grounders' cage.. ok, slowpitch maybe it was listed.. but I did pretty good.. I hit some right-handed, then I switched arms and hit some left-handed. With whatever action sport I do, I alternate hands/arms so that I'm sore on both sides as well as 'worked out' vs just in major pain on one side only.
I discovered I'm an equal opportunity ball misser.. but some actually connected.. and the more I swung and played, the more connected. The more my body hurt.. but the action of hitting the ball.. oh, yeah, I had a REAL hitter stance.. pfft.. but I did get some movement in that I'm not used to, as witnessed trying to roll out of my waterbed this morning.. a sad and sorry sight.
But I'd love to go back to the batting cage, missing the previously touched 'stuff' inside the arcade, and keep the exercise going.. luckily I had taken off my glasses as when I did it before 30 years ago, they fogged up and I couldn't see the ball coming.. and this time, I could see it and didn't get all sweaty. I passed on the miniature golf.. I was done..
I just don't compete and he was trying to get me to the fast ball cage to see how many he could hit vs me.. I passed when I heard the sound of the ball hitting the pad on the back of the cage and if I'd be hit, it would hurt FAR more than 'my love of the game'.. and frankly, my give a damn is broken when it comes to how many points someone makes vs another .. pfft.. next.. then he punched my arm saying 'come ON!!! get INTO it!!!' I punched him back and said, "NAH.. where should we eat?" but I jogged over to my car! man, I felt SO good!!!!!
Anyway, on a side note, my peace sign bags seem to the first choice for most ppl.. and Whoopie Goldberg is wearing a shirt w a big one on it today too! Interesting..
Copyright 2008, From Bekki Shanklin’s “Thinking all the time” series
The day I won the DAODD award
Guess who's the DAOTD award? yup.. me
Well, today started with my waking up w a scratchy throat, which threw off all my mental capacity for reasoning, logic and memory. Today was another instance of when I side-stepped my IQ.
Let me tell you what happened: I work for Kodak and today I went into the walmart that I was assigned to and hung out for my hours.
When I first got there, I laboriously set my mind-particles to remember how many places from the door I was.. which was 5 after the disabled places and the tree. I walk straight up to the door, go to sign in at customer service and walked back to the back of the store to go hang with my camera buddies who hate working at walmart.
When I was finished, I walked back up to cust service to turn in my required 'vendor' tag. I was happy to be going home b/c my throat continued to be scratchy.
I went out the door, counted the 5 places after the disabled parking and the tree and my car wasn't there.. HOLY CRAP! I can't find my car! I wander around in 100,000,000 degree heat holding my key thing up on the air and clicking it, waiting for my girl.. (my car) to beep and wave back at me saying, "I'm right here, mama!".. nothing.. zip.. not a peep from the girl.
Still wandering around after about 10 min that seemed like all the rest of the afternoon, sweat coursing down my back and running down my.. well, you know.. I expected to turn around to see where I was walking and find a sweat trail.. I was lucky.. it all puddled into my underpants.. sheesh..
So, not shaking too badly, I bit the bullet and went in and called 9-1-1.. "Hello? I'm so sorry to bother you, but I think my car's been stolen." "No problem, where are you located?" "Walmart".. long pause where I'm sure she covered the mic and yelled "We've got another noodlehead who lost her car at walmart". But at that time, I was oblivious to anyone else's problems but mine..
A short time later I see 3 sheriff's cars pulling into the parking lot like they were doing a shoot for a scene on Flashpoint, where the SWAT team is called in. I went out and flagged down one that slid up next to the building on the tarmac and not the parking lot.. he was serious about not making me walk any farther in the heat..
"Could I see your driver's license, Ma'am?" .. "Sure, but if there are wants and warrants, I'll go quietly b/c you have your a/c going in the car.. I'll sit on your lap now for some of that.. " He laughed nervously. I was serious.
He pulled up my info and saw what my tag read (I could only give him the 3 of the 6 numbers).. and he turns to me and said, "We found it ma'am".. HOLY CRAP !! that was FAST! He said, "do you realize that there are TWO ways to get into walmart? We're in front of row 4, your car is exactly where you said it was.. on row 12.. in front of the other door.
I'd already called my friend, Linda and daughter, Anjelica.. they were freaking out waiting for me to call back to see if my car was, indeed, stolen.
I said to the cop, "wow, is my face red".. he said, "could be the heat, Ma'am" .. I agreed w him.. so I hoofed it all the way across the parking lot and POUFFE! notice I didn't say POUTTE! (that's another embarrasing tale).. there was another cop sitting in his car.. in the a/c .. behind my car, pointing to it. And I thanked him and told him to hug the other guys too.. then rescinded it, knowing that deed would never be done. But the one cop said that this happens in big parking lots sev times a week.. glad I could help with the percentage for the week.. duh..
So, I quickly called my daughter and she laughed her buns off.. thus awarding me THE DUMB ASS OF THE DAY award. I accepted it and thanked all the little people who helped me win it.. mostly me..
thank heaven I'm cute..
But WAIT!! there's more!! the other week when I went to spend time with my daugther, she had her apartment temp down to 70 degrees.. other side of the spectrum from the above story. And we were laying on her bed and she'd pulled up a corner of the comforter and pulled it over her legs and my feet.. but we kept being cold, so I snuggled closer, she pulled more inches of the comforter over us.. then she got up to go to the kitchen for something and came back and I'd taken her place and pulled more of the comforter over my legs..
When she came in with her hands full.. she said, "hey, ..... why don't we get UNDER the comforter?" we laughed so hard she's lucky she didn't have to change the sheets, too.. we accepted the DOUBLE DUMB ASSES OF THE DAY award.. It was a double-cup on that trophy.. I rest my case that only one person can win it at a time..
Copyright 2009, From Bekki Shanklin's "Thinking all the time" series.
Well, today started with my waking up w a scratchy throat, which threw off all my mental capacity for reasoning, logic and memory. Today was another instance of when I side-stepped my IQ.
Let me tell you what happened: I work for Kodak and today I went into the walmart that I was assigned to and hung out for my hours.
When I first got there, I laboriously set my mind-particles to remember how many places from the door I was.. which was 5 after the disabled places and the tree. I walk straight up to the door, go to sign in at customer service and walked back to the back of the store to go hang with my camera buddies who hate working at walmart.
When I was finished, I walked back up to cust service to turn in my required 'vendor' tag. I was happy to be going home b/c my throat continued to be scratchy.
I went out the door, counted the 5 places after the disabled parking and the tree and my car wasn't there.. HOLY CRAP! I can't find my car! I wander around in 100,000,000 degree heat holding my key thing up on the air and clicking it, waiting for my girl.. (my car) to beep and wave back at me saying, "I'm right here, mama!".. nothing.. zip.. not a peep from the girl.
Still wandering around after about 10 min that seemed like all the rest of the afternoon, sweat coursing down my back and running down my.. well, you know.. I expected to turn around to see where I was walking and find a sweat trail.. I was lucky.. it all puddled into my underpants.. sheesh..
So, not shaking too badly, I bit the bullet and went in and called 9-1-1.. "Hello? I'm so sorry to bother you, but I think my car's been stolen." "No problem, where are you located?" "Walmart".. long pause where I'm sure she covered the mic and yelled "We've got another noodlehead who lost her car at walmart". But at that time, I was oblivious to anyone else's problems but mine..
A short time later I see 3 sheriff's cars pulling into the parking lot like they were doing a shoot for a scene on Flashpoint, where the SWAT team is called in. I went out and flagged down one that slid up next to the building on the tarmac and not the parking lot.. he was serious about not making me walk any farther in the heat..
"Could I see your driver's license, Ma'am?" .. "Sure, but if there are wants and warrants, I'll go quietly b/c you have your a/c going in the car.. I'll sit on your lap now for some of that.. " He laughed nervously. I was serious.
He pulled up my info and saw what my tag read (I could only give him the 3 of the 6 numbers).. and he turns to me and said, "We found it ma'am".. HOLY CRAP !! that was FAST! He said, "do you realize that there are TWO ways to get into walmart? We're in front of row 4, your car is exactly where you said it was.. on row 12.. in front of the other door.
I'd already called my friend, Linda and daughter, Anjelica.. they were freaking out waiting for me to call back to see if my car was, indeed, stolen.
I said to the cop, "wow, is my face red".. he said, "could be the heat, Ma'am" .. I agreed w him.. so I hoofed it all the way across the parking lot and POUFFE! notice I didn't say POUTTE! (that's another embarrasing tale).. there was another cop sitting in his car.. in the a/c .. behind my car, pointing to it. And I thanked him and told him to hug the other guys too.. then rescinded it, knowing that deed would never be done. But the one cop said that this happens in big parking lots sev times a week.. glad I could help with the percentage for the week.. duh..
So, I quickly called my daughter and she laughed her buns off.. thus awarding me THE DUMB ASS OF THE DAY award. I accepted it and thanked all the little people who helped me win it.. mostly me..
thank heaven I'm cute..
But WAIT!! there's more!! the other week when I went to spend time with my daugther, she had her apartment temp down to 70 degrees.. other side of the spectrum from the above story. And we were laying on her bed and she'd pulled up a corner of the comforter and pulled it over her legs and my feet.. but we kept being cold, so I snuggled closer, she pulled more inches of the comforter over us.. then she got up to go to the kitchen for something and came back and I'd taken her place and pulled more of the comforter over my legs..
When she came in with her hands full.. she said, "hey, ..... why don't we get UNDER the comforter?" we laughed so hard she's lucky she didn't have to change the sheets, too.. we accepted the DOUBLE DUMB ASSES OF THE DAY award.. It was a double-cup on that trophy.. I rest my case that only one person can win it at a time..
Copyright 2009, From Bekki Shanklin's "Thinking all the time" series.
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