Another season – Another reason

Turkey and chilli should never be mixed together                            nor even be associated with each other.

Before cell phones, we would let our parents know we arrived safely at a destination by calling collect and asking for ourselves.

I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this.                   There are no choices. Just silent voices.

Wind blows through me.

What’s up with that?

Remember when watching television was free? Now I pay $85.00/month for commercials and shopping channels. When the contract expires, DirectTV can stuff their “Schiticky” up their “Aspray”.

Why is this happening to me?

Cherry Point, McKeesport, Pleasant Hills, State College, Mt. Washington, Houston, Sugar Land, Paris    ???????????

If all of your dreams crash screaming into the fires of hell……….

Dumb ass squirrels chewed the ropes holding up the bird feeder.

We love dogs because they act like little people in pajamas.

Pita chips are as tasty as sucking dry flour down your throat.

A seat sniffer on public transportation gets more respect than retail employees.Be kind to the associate fitting you for foundation garments or penciling in your bushy brows!

“The older you get –  the more invisible you become”

Rainbows are still magic

Being politically correct is really making my ass ache. Get the chip off your shoulder and lighten up. A decent human being knows the difference between assault and an innocent gesture. Move on.

Where are you? Jesus Christ, where did you go??????????????

Instead of joining a health club – cut your own grass, wash your own car, clean your home and cook your own food. Your weight bearing exercise, running and squats will be covered.

Live without a television for a month and watch your life happen.

For the life of me, I never know how much a postage stamp costs? It used to be printed on the item until “forever” stamps came into vogue. Someone should tell the USPS that nothing lasts forever….

No one says, “groovey” anymore.

When the horrific fright slams me and the world stops, I close my eyes and imagine putting my face in your neck and feeling your arms encompass me.

Can’t sleep – write

Can’t eat – write

Can’t talk – write

Jails and prisons are full of people unable to conform with the rules of society. This behavior is an exhibition of mental illness. If these facilities aren’t structured to address mental illness, a better idea would be to let these folks form their own society in their own city. They won’t have laws to break. Just drop their asses off and let life happen.

You sell me a non-functioning PC and charge me a restocking fee! Really?

Mushrooms are my favorite meat

Come on         Come on             Come on                           Come on

Tooth enamel paint, eye vitamins, Viagra, nostril salt water rinse, plucking, shaving, 4 different soaps & cleansers, exfoliation, foot genie, do the roots, gel nails,  false lashes, fake boobs, imitation truths – Is there any time left to give to others?

It’s all about me

Now, here’s the deal…

Entitlement:    creates a mind boggling whirlwind brain tornado – Just don’t understand it


“Let it be”

Get off of yourself

Put all of your cards on the table

Love, Me xoxxoxooxxx

Naked in the wind is not always your best look

“And the forest will echo with laughter…”

oh god – here goes

Another season - Another reason

Another season – Another reason












Rescue dogs

The most intelligent dogs I’ve had the privilege of living with have been mixed breed rescue dogs. This is not to say that the pedigreed dogs were stupid. It is a comparative observation. It doesn’t lessen the love. The mixed breed dogs were quick to learn commands and would do anything to please. There were a lot less health issues as well as being a lot less maintenance. Rescue dogs are capable of having as much high heart value as an expensive, paper’d, pedigreed dog.
The CockaDocker and Beagle-Basset were not the dogs mustering attention during long walks. The Dachshund and Cocker Spaniel were always the relatable dogs. “Oh, we had a dog just like that.” The Cockapoo was always mistaken to be a Terrier and the CockaDocker was always thought to be a baby Lab, Most of the time, there were multiple dogs in our household. When one dog garners attention, it was as if to say, one child is beautiful and the other two are homely! Just like a jury of your peers, we did work hard at creating personality for the quiet puppy or the one with an “up front” personality.
Texi, our Beagle-Basset was a notorious bitch, to say the least. At the time, she was the lone female with two male cohorts. She was amicable and well behaved but did like laying on her duck rug in the corner of the breakfast room. I made her a red lace dress out of fabric printed with a young Elvis Presley on it, for Halloween. This was almost an exercise of desperation to liven this young lady up. Believe me, with an active young family and a couple of jobs, I was lucky to pluck an eyebrow let alone make a dog dress! Femininity blossomed from her spirit when I gave her a middle name, Texi Anne. A resident Diva Dog with a bark like a Basset Hound was akin to an unattractive, diamond decorated aunt who always brought candy but bitched about the entrée served for dinner. This precious rescue dog ended up being a savior when someone, uninvited, entered our home. Texi Anne took a mega bite out of the intruder. She came to us, on ‘Go Texan Day” from a friend who witnessed Texi being thrown from a car on FM 1960 in Houston, Texas, one sleety, rainy night. We had her for 12 years. She is still missed.




Harley, a pure bred mini Dachshund, was delivered to our door by a neighbor. He was a puppy, as big as my hand. This dog had been bred to be sold, as in money making profit product. We were the last chance to take him because the families he had previously been sold to brought him back because he kept crying. Being the runt, the breeder family didn’t want to deal with him. Mr. Runt was obviously cutting into the bottom line. It was either we take him or he was going to the pound.
Harley possessed an uncanny and comical personality. He’d do laps in the bathtub and take the king size comforter off of our bed and drag it through the house. His legs were exactly one inch long and at his heaviest, he weighed 10 pounds. Har was an alpha dog with the management style of a Harvard Business School graduate. If the doorbell rang, Harley would lie in his dog bed and bark for one of the other dogs to rush the front door to announce the visitor or dinner delivery. This dog would come when he was called and show up at meal time. That was the extent of his disciplines. He ran our home like a drill sergeant and we willingly fell for his every whim. He was happy being carried around and loved on constantly. We didn’t have favorites but Harley was a remarkable treasure of the heart.
Our smartest rescue dog is a Schnauzer mix. Vincent Star (Vinnie) is addicted to television. His favorite show is “Lucky Dog” and anything on Animal Planet is a strong substitute. If allowed, he’d monopolize the TV with his programming and forfeit PupCorn, his favorite treat, at the instant he hears Brandon McMillon’s voice on Saturday mornings. Vinnie is extremely disciplined and rarely misses a command. His life purpose is to please and be loved. Except for lying on a freshly painted baseboard, I can’t remember any other instance of him being subjected to dog jail. Vinnie is the poster puppy for play, performance and pleasure. Approximately 12 years ago, a neighbor rescued Vinnie from the local animal shelter. The neighbor died 2 weeks later. Instead of returning the 12 week old puppy to the shelter, Vincent became the third Musketeer of our gaggle of dogs.
I read an article in The Dallas Morning News, Sunday, August 5, 2012 in reference to a photographer in Taiwan, making a social statement by photographing dogs immediately before they are euthanized. The article prompted me to write the blog entry, Dogs to advocate for 4 legged furry friends. Again, if you are unable to give a home to one of God’s innocent creatures, please advocate for them.

The things our children’s father did that pissed me off

Happy Fathers Day, PawPaw xx

Happy Fathers Day, PawPaw xx

I’m trying to use some humor here. I loved my kid’s Dad with all my heart, even his faults. It made up all the pieces of his gracious heart and loving disposition. We laughed a lot.

The things our children’s father did that pissed me off:

Lover would take apart the boat, the jeep and parts of the house to remodel, restore and to repair, all at the same time. He was excellent at tearing stuff apart. His schedule to put things back together was not the same as my schedule.

Lover refused to call a contractor to make a household repair. In his defense, they always did a half assed job and he would end up doing it over himself. A fine example is the Hurricane Ike damage to the dining room ceiling that started to disintegrate on Christmas Eve.Hours before we had invited guests to arrive, a great talent, Lover artistically cut the mess out and restored it perfectly. That said, it took 9 months to finish laying the ceramic tile flooring through out the entire house.

Lover never took time to find something. He would just go out and purchase 10+ more! I am now the proud owner of 8 coolers, a guzillion grinding wheels, countless cans of spray paint (lots of the same colors), dozens of pairs of work gloves, tons of nails and screws and every girl’s dream – multiple gas cans and containers.

More is so much better than less. If Lover was sent to the grocery store with a short list, you can bet the farm he would return with 15 bags of salami’s, cheese, beer, hot peppers and a piece of meat I’d never heard of . When I’d ask where the list items were, he would tell me pastrami cost $7.95/pound and he forgot the list in the truck!

Though his pagers, cell phones, Bluetooth, etc., were usually attached to him with some kind of case or clip, Lover always failed to be able to locate them at 5:30am each morning when exiting the house. They were usually found underneath the seat in his truck. The truck keys were usually on the lost list when the panic attack started. One time the entire truck was stolen from a work site with the personal cell phone, checkbook, wallet with credit cards, pager, a very expensive loaded toolbox, 15 pair of Levi’s that had just been picked up from the cleaners and his Whataburger lunch. That was the last time I told him to keep all of his things in the truck where he could find them!

Lover was extremely experienced at driving on the Houston freeways, during rush hour, while talking on the phone, taking notes on his famous steno pad, smoking a cigarette, drinking coffee and steering with his knees as he swore out the window at some moron who had just cut him off. I sometimes was the witness to the “moron holler”. The kids wonder why I’m high strung and nervous!

Lover was very particular how his Levi 501’s had to be creased. When holding the jeans upside down, the side seams are matched from top to bottom with the pockets equal distance apart  from the center creases. I screwed up, before we were married, and didn’t fold and press the Levi’s to spec. I did it once. For over twenty years, Violet, at the dry cleaners on Eldridge Road, Sugar Land, Texas, became Lover’s Levi angel. She had those Levi’s starched, pressed and hanger folded to Lover’s exact requirements.

When the Sunday Houston Chronicle was left all over the ceramic tile floor, the room became a slippery health hazard

Too many times, one of the pickup trucks were overloaded. I’d be told, “Don’t worry about it. It will be okay. You worry too much”. We, at times, resembled the Beverly Hillbillies.

I worked from home during the majority of our marriage. If he was home, the rule was not to swear at the dogs while I was on a conference call. Harley, our dachshund, never failed to pee on the floor when Lover was home. He would step in it and proceed to swear in his beautiful booming voice as I was trying to wind down a million dollar commitment with 7 programmers on the speakerphone in my home office.

The boat was always a bone of contention. It was like Lover’s lover. It always needed something that cost bucks. It had to have pricey accommodations. If there was a weather alert, extreme strides were taken to go to the beach and bring it to our primary residence. The HOA would be typing the violation letter as it was being parked in front of the house. The motor, boat and trailer had to have registrations at three different state agencies. “Someone” was always taking it through an oyster bed or trying to sink it off the Gulf Coast. (You’re supposed to put the plugs back in it before it is launched!) God only knows how much he enjoyed being out to sea and running out of gas as a Carnival Cruise ship was coming straight at us! Taking that walk on the wild side.

Happy Fathers Day, Lover

The father of my children has been gone for two Fathers Days. Last Fathers Day, I didn’t even know what was going on. I was lost and it was the first day I was totally alone since his death on June 1. I transplanted a tree in the backyard. It quickly died within weeks. I took it as a sign that there was no hope in the world. Through a lot of trials and tribulations this past year, a grip on my life, as it is now, has taken a lot of turns.

I miss my husband. Our kids miss their father.

What I would give for him to leave his dirty socks on the living room floor or empty beer cans on the table on the back porch. It would thrill me to see a broken carburetor on the glass top dining room table or to hear him singing a George Jones song from the garage.

Hold your Dads close. Tell them now how much you love them and appreciate them – everyday. We did.


October is Adopt a Shelter Dog Month

Not wanting to sound like George Carlin, but if everyone waited to adopt a dog in October, there would be a lot more dogs seeking shelter. George would ask, “Why only in October?”

July brought a German Shepherd mix dog visitor to our property. She, found out later the nature of her feminism, would sleep under our outbuilding during the scorching heat of the day. Our territorial yard-Nazi dog, Vincent, would have no participation in the “share your yard” campaign. He was like a persistent 3-year-old child who absolutely thinks you have no right to sleep more than 5 minutes per session. The second he would discover the German Shepherd sleeping under the outbuilding, Vince justified his position as yard-nazi and chased this tired, ragged dog to the edge of the property. She would actually climb the cyclone fence to escape his yapping. Refuge was the yard behind us.

In the oncoming weeks, we discovered the German Shepherd was pregnant and delivered a large litter of pups, on our neighbor’s property. Vincent still had no regard for the antics he made her perform while she was “with child times many”.

Our neighbors are compassionate and caring people. A new home was created for the mom dog and her big brood. Early morning flood lights illuminated their yard when Mr. Neighbor would check on the newly established dog family. Mom dog is fed regularly and puppies are comforted to quiet their squeaks and squeals.

The puppies are now big enough to receive homes of their own. A homemade sign is posted on a pole in front of our neighbor’s house which simply states, “Free puppies to a good home.” A few times, we have witnessed families visiting the yard to play with the puppies and choose the lucky winner of the “take me home” contest. It appears, there is only one or two puppies remaining. I am not nebby enough to know if I am seeing the same puppy once or in duplicate. They are adorable, either way. Mom dog is content and obviously doing a great job.

October is “Adopt a Shelter Dog Month”. I also think everyday needs to be Christmas and one’s wedding anniversary. Lift the October only restriction and think about adopting a dog any of the other months, too. It makes my heart happy to know we live among benevolent people.


Vincent – a dog tale

Vincent is our 95% Schnauzer and 5% something else dog. He came to us kind of accidentally. Our next door neighbor is Lucy. Her oldest son, Colby, is best friends with Jacob. Jacob’s father had made a trip to the animal shelter and brought Vincent home when he was 8 weeks old. Vinnie has a breeder tattoo on the inside of his leg. Obviously, the breeder was upset because there was a break in the purebred cycle. The litter of puppies had been dumped off at the shelter. Jacob’s father had Vinnie for a couple of weeks and then Jacob’s father passed away.

Lucy took care of Vinnie during the funeral and wake. A week passed and finally Lucy asked Jacob if anyone was coming to pick the puppy up. Jacob’s mother didn’t want him and the maid didn’t want the responsibility. So, Lucy called me and asked if I would go with her to take the puppy back to the animal shelter.

We already had two dogs. One was a high maintenance, totally neurotic mini-dachshund, riddled with separation anxiety and pancreatitis. Harley was eating prescription dog food as well as constantly being treated for back injuries, allergic reactions, unexplained seizures and a heart murmur. The other dog, Sydney, was a dachshund mix with the most precious face and perfect disposition. Our household was extremely busy and I was the only member with patience enough to take care of the dogs. I absolutely could not and would not participate in taking the little black puppy to the pound. I told Lucy to bring him over to our house.

Vinnie was now about 12 weeks old. He had a very tiny body and long lanky legs, curly black hair and a little head. We had no idea what he was or how big he would get. I almost named him after my prospective divorce attorney! It would definitely be the end of a long-term marriage if this dog was half Mastiff and half Basset hound.

The vet took one look at Vinnie and immediately stated he was definitely a Schnauzer but with a round jaw instead of a square one. As previously stated, someone back in the lineage stepped out for a fling one evening. I remember looking at that little 5 pound dog and trying to imagine him turning into a Schnauzer!

Vincent’s appearance changed into a Schnauzer at about 6 months of age. His face changed dramatically, resembling the Star Wars character, Chubaka. Vince’s first trip to the groomers did not fare very well because he exhibited anxiety while getting his hair cut. Is it me? Why are my dogs nuts, except for precious Sydney? Needless to say, Vinnie’s photo hangs at the groomers’ reception desk with a sign simply stating, “no longer welcome here”. Because he is uncooperative and looked like he had been shaved into a Schnauzer with a lawnmower. His appearance now is constant bed head.

Vincent, named for art and not a divorce attorney, turned out to be Mr. Personality. He is the happiest dog on the planet. Devotion and eagerness to please are his focus in life.

The purpose of this blog entry is to urge people to pay attention to and care for their dogs. Abuse is intolerable. Ignoring them is just as bad. If you don’t have the time to interact and truly get to know them, please find someone who will.

Shelters are full of dogs like Vincent. Please know the amount of  responsibility and patience it will take to open your home to a dog or puppy. Words can not describe the gifts you will receive in return for letting one into your heart.





The Dallas Morning News, Sunday, August 5, 2012 had an article in reference to a photographer in Taiwan, making a social statement by photographing dogs immediately before they are euthanized. It is haunting, horrible and difficult to understand how he is able to do this. He wants people to “feel” not view the portraits he is creating. The project is to teach people their dogs are more than toys and shouldn’t be discarded without  thought to the end demise.

I love dogs – or at least, my dogs. It is unrealistic to even fathom a fleeting thought to running down to the pound – or as now called, animal shelter, and adopt all of the dogs down there. The words, animal shelter, are a lie unless it is an organization that does not ever put the animals to death. Dogs take a committment.

They are entitled to food, shelter, attention and love. Even working dogs deserve a pat on the head and a biscuit once in a while. It is as disheartening to see a dog ignored and mistreated. They are innocent and dependent on us to provide the basic necessities. In return, they are eager to please, have great “tail wag” and will be loyal to you forever.

If you are unable to make a positive committment – Visit a dog. Volunteer at a shelter. Raise funds for a shelter. Start a dog walking business. Don’t bring one home to throw in the backyard and ignore. You go out and stand in the backyard, in the summer heat , for 15 minutes and tell me how happy you are! I’d rip up the lily pond and eat the privacy fence, too! If you are committed to caring and loving one of God’s greatest domestic creatures, please visit a shelter and find your newest best friend.

Rescued and Beloved