Library Art Show - Sept. Gallery Hop

A few pictures from my solo show at the Jacksonville Public Library during the month of September. The opening is tonight from 5-8 p.m.

Here a library patron walks across the lobby into the Period- ical Reading Room, which also shelves the library's Large Print Collection.

The lobby sits under the rotunda.  There are four 6' tall display cabinets which hold my paintings and photography.

Across from the circulation desk is a large 2-part flat display table. Inside are two 2-ft square works: a landscape painting of Sandy Creek, which borders our property on the north, and a blue collage. (The quilt isn't mine, wish it was!)

  

Beary Likes it!

We finally have our rock garden planted with ivy and ground covers we moved from the old garden flower bed. I'll have to take a pictures of it with grass growing and landscape plantings finished.

Here is a picture of Beary taken sitting beside the new & improved garden cairn we built.  Just so you get an idea of the monstrous size of those rocks, Beary weighs 120 pounds, so he's one jumbo-canine.

It's a Patio...FINALLY!

It's been a busy week. We celebrated our 30th wedding anniversary and Rich's dad's 90th birthday with dinner out on Tuesday evening. While we were at the restaurant, Rich got a call from the new concrete guy. He was planning to pour the next afternoon, instead of waiting til next week!

So that's what happened. And this is our new patio. Rich is shown taking a picture of the new fire pit he'd just finished today. 

We're ready to party, people!

A Blast from the Past!

Thirty years ago today I married my best friend / true love. I can't believe how fast those 30 years flew by!

Tonight we celebrated my father-in-law's 90th birthday too. We were married on his 60th birthday. This evening we had a lovely family dinner at a swanky restaurant. Even the dear old priest who married us was there to share our family celebration. How cool is that?

In trying to find an old photo from our wedding, I ran across this 1974 picture of me at age 21...
7 years before I met my husband-to-be. I can't believe those aviator glasses! (What was I thinking, or was that the fashion back then?) Ah, the 70's... a great time to be young!

Hopefully, I'll find the wedding pix tomorrow. I want to reminisce.

It's the Thought That Counts...

Even if it IS three weeks late!

I know the Ol' Man felt bad that I didn't get to have a big blow-out for my birthday because the guy never came to pour the concrete for the patio. And I was taking Sixty pretty hard anyway, and so today he saw this birthday card and bought it for me. (Gotta love him!)

I took elements from the front, inside, and back of the Hallmark card to put together this special birthday graphic.

So Gross!

I knew I had an aphid problem on my morning glories a week ago. I wish I would have taken care of the problem then! Now I have a nasty infestation of the little suckers.

Aphids are also known as "ant cows." These tiny bugs suck the juice of tender growing tips of leaves and then excrete "honeydew." The ants care for their own little herds of honey-makers. If you look close, you can see an attending ant keeping an eye on things.

Going...Going...Gone! SOLD!

"Fruitful"  12"x12" acrylic

This painting was inspired by the folk art of lumberjack Fred Smith (1886-1976) whose Wisconsin Concrete Park (near the town of Phillips) full of whimsical and historical sculpture, is one of the 7 Man-Made Wonders of Wisconsin.

"Tree of Life" by Fred Smith

This Fred Smith creation is called "Tree of Life." I've made it into a painting that I call "Fruitful."

Cool Breezes!

Enjoying a lovely break 

from the deathly heat and humidity 

of a central Illinois summer. 

Dawn Song - New Painting--- SOLD

"Dawn Song"

acrylic

7"x14"
***sold***

Moonchild Turns 60!

Wishing myself Happy Birthday 

with a song.

Photo courtesy http://pdphoto.org/  Thanks, Jon!

I hope you'll join me!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NrFCwvlw0cs 

OH! NO!  This song is no longer available. I hate when that happens!

A Bad Moon on the Rise

Zion N.P., Utah --- where I'd RATHER be on my birthday!

Phtoto courtesy http://pdphoto.org/  Thanks, Jon!

This coming Monday (which is a full moon BTW), I'll endure my Big Six-Oh. This is Saturday. I want to party TONIGHT.  Nobody will want to party on a Monday night. Right?

Weeks ago I kept saying things like, "I want to have a party for my Big Six-Oh," or "we need to decide what we're going to do for my birthday" or "we need to not wait til the last minute to invite people to my Bday".

As fate would have it, the guy still hasn't come to pour our new patio. It's just been too dad-blamed hot!  The concrete would set up before they could stamp the rock-like pattern in it. But this coming week is supposed to be cooler, so hopefully it will get done by next weekend.

So I guess it's understood that my party will have to be postponed until the patio is done. Which is stupid. We could still go out tonight. If Rich is trying to surprise me, he will have succeeded.

I'm feeling blue.

Patient, Heal Thyself!

Saw my orthopedist for the first (and I hope the last) time yesterday. Six weeks ago, his PA saw me and ordered 6 weeks of physical therapy (an ins. prerequisite before doing an MRI or considering surgery).

I chose this particular doctor because he was the surgeon who operated on our son the night of his near-fatal motocross injury. Our son really liked him, and I was going to ask if he remembered my son ---even though it was 10 years ago, he's the only kid I know of from this area that was involved in motocross racing.

So anyway, his PA saw me first, for about 5 minutes (or less) to ask how PT went, etc. Then he came in, said hi, manipulated my leg a bit, and said I was good to go. Whoa! I told him that PT had worked wonders, but that they'd concentrated on my bad leg.  Now my bad hip is good, but the other (which was over- compensating for years due to various injuries to the right leg) felt all out of whack.

Geez, he's a sports doctor!  I thought we could discuss ways to continue on with my PT, to get my other leg working better, to improve my cardio-vascular and upper body strength (which is zero right now), and to lose another fifteen pounds by Christmas.

He told me he'd order two more weeks of PT to strengthen my other leg, and that I could make arrangements with the PT clinic to use their equipment after that for a nominal (non-insurance-covered) fee. Then he was out the door. He spent all of TWO MINUTES with me!!! I mean, I meant absolutely nothing to this doctor as a patient, since it looked like he wasn't going to be operating on me.  Didn't even get to mention my son.

I realize that ins. companies dictate how much time a doctor spends with each patient, but still!  I'm sure he and his PA were both OVERPAID for the few minutes they spent with me.  I actually felt like crying when I left there, because I felt so useless. I'm telling you this, my DOG gets better treatment at the vet!!!

Oh, another thing! Usually when you see a doctor, they weigh you.  These people didn't the first time they saw me.  They just used the weight from my January check up with my family doctor. So yesterday, the nurse is going through the questions they ask.  She said is your weight still ___?  I said, no, I think I need to be re-weighed.  She said, well just estimate.  I said, well, I'd rather be weighed to be sure.  She acted very put-out that she was going to have to take me all the way to the other end of the big office and weigh me. But then she was astonished and amazed that I'd lost 15 pounds since January. I felt oh so vindicated then.

What's a person to do?  I've heard that many doctors treat their nurses like crap, but come on! Couldn't they at least show a little interest and treat their patients like human beings?  I do hope I get a questionnaire about my care with this particular clinic, because I have a lot of valid complaints!

So!  Is THIS Obamacare? Or has it even started?  What is Obamacare anyway? It somehow got passed without the lawmakers even reading it or explaining to the American people how it would affect them.

All I know is that here in America, we have the best doctors, hospitals, drug research, treatment options, etc. that money can buy, but if you actually have a doctor who CARES about you, takes time to listen to you, and explains things in a way you can understand, consider yourself one of the fortunate few.

Ain't Dead Yet

Design on my Grateful Dead T-shirt

"Aw, you're not so old."

My Achy-Breaky...

Monday morning, I came running out of the house, late for physical therapy, and did a face-plant in the yard. We have an old rug at the bottom of the porch steps, to wipe feet on. Over the years, it's grown a coat of slippery moss, and my feet went out from under me. I landed on my left knee, left shoulder and forehead, in that order. 

I layed there bawling for a minute or two, trying to decide on whether or not to go on to therapy. I had a dirty, skinned knee, but otherwise I felt ok.  So I picked myself up and went to PT.

Tuesday I could barely move any part of my body. My whole upper left arm was covered in blackish-purple bruises, and I'm sure I got whiplash from landing on my forehead. Anyway, I called in and canceled Wednesday's appt. Both Tues & Wed I had a bad headache.

Wed. I attempted my home exercises and stretches as best I could. Yesterday (Happy Belated 4th of July!) I was able to finally do my full workout --- but all day long, whenever I would walk, I'd get those painful glitches in my right hip.

So I felt like it was back to square one when I reported to PT today.

He's a Hard-Workin' Dog!

Not the German Shepherd. 

All he does is eat & sleep & poop & play.  

But my dear old husband is working like a dog 

to get the new patio done by my birthday, 

which is July 22nd, 

in case anyone wants to party with me.

3 Lives Down - 6 to Go!

Katmandu has been an outdoor cat for the entire six years of her life. She had her sister living here with her for a year or two, but they came to blows and KittenYahoo ran away from home.

Cats have nine lives, they say, and I actually have no idea how many times Katty may have cheated death.  Once for sure when she had some kind of brain fever that caused her to leap and somersault and fall down --- and left her a Lefty (ever since she got well, she walks and runs with her head canted to the left).

Another time Katty cheated the Grim Reaper was when I saw a copper-red-colored coyote (no, it wasn't a fox --- i know the diff) leaving our driveway. No doubt he was either looking for Katty or she'd already escaped.

Yesterday morning I woke up to a noise. At first I thought it was my tummy growling, but then I recognized that stressed-out yowling to be Katty. I ran to the back door and there was a BOBCAT standing with its head under the porch.  All I could see was its back and stubby, black-tipped tail. I could hear Katty spitting and hissing under the porch.

I ran and woke Rich. He slipped out the back door with his shotgun, but the bobcat heard him coming. It poked its head around the corner for just an instant and he got a good look at its bobby face. Then it was gone!

Poor Katty!  She's been a nervous wreck ever since.  We knew there are bobbies around here. Rich saw one at a distance when he was hunting last fall. But I've never seen one outside a zoo, so it was pretty exciting!

Ol' Beary Boy

Dogs have given us their absolute all.  

We are the center of their universe.  

We are the focus of their love and faith and trust.  

They serve us in return for scraps.  

It is without a doubt the best deal man has ever made.  

~Roger Caras

I CAN'T HELP IT!

I REALLY LIKE THOSE SANDALS!

My son brought his new girlfriend 

for a Father's Day cookout.

Well, she's new to ME, Jacob!

As soon as I saw these sandals,

I asked if I could get a picture of them. 

She must have thought I was nuts! 

She'll probably never come back,

and we'll never get to know each other.

You'd think by now

I would have run out of ways

to embarrass my son!

But I got to know Nicole's feet pretty well...

You Made it Right!

Photo courtesy: http://pdphoto.org/     THANKS JON!

This is my "signature song; 

the song that best describes me, 

how I try to look at life --- 

by a favorite band from long ago, 

the Ozark Mountain Daredevils.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IFvE2MPHDCA

Blest!

When such as I cast out remorse

So great a sweetness flows

into the breast

We must laugh and

we must sing,

We are blest by everything,

Everything we look upon is blest.

~William Butler Yeats

Spidee Update

Some few hours later (see photo below) Spidee had literally carried the imprisoned katydid to the upper left corner of the window, where she has her egg sack hanging. Do you know how strong spider web is??? ¡MUY FUERTE, MIS AMIGOS! How did Spidee drag her prey through that tangle of webs, back to her nest?

A few more hours later, I go back to look again. Spidee has been sucking the living daylights out of the katydid. It's not much more than an empty husk now, with Spidee resting in bloated satisfaction.

Spiiiiii-Deeeeeee!!!!!!!

Ok, what's going on here is this:

Outside (and sometimes inside) 

my kitchen window, over the sink, 

exists a small world unknown to many. 

A miniature metropolis, if you will...  

A nucleus in the very atom 

of the molecule of  life 

that we call

The Twilight Zone!

And PT#3

Today I had Sabrina again. She was a bit more friendly, but I don't think she understands the concept of fibromyalgia pain. It's not what she's doing to my hips that's hurting me...it's her gouging my fibro-points (the signal places on your body where the doctor presses to see if you jump outta your hide from pain... if you do, you are diagnosed.  There's no other test for it.). Geez, that's where she grips me to manipulate and stretch me... but is it necessary to latch onto me so hard?

I asked her, today, if I'm unable to continue with PT due to the fibro-torture, will the insurance company waive the requirement that I have 5 weeks of it before surgery. She just said I need to hang in there a few more weeks and see what happens. Try not to focus on the pain. So, OK...

@ VICKI: LOL! Karaoke, huh? I let my husband take me out about once a year for karaoke. Actually, I've only done it twice, but it's almost time to do it again! I better start practicing.

2nd PT Session

I got lucky and drew a cute, young physical therapist yesterday. Let's call him Alex (not his real name). I hope I have him again.

I wasn't looking forward to the young woman who served me on Friday. There must be a pool or something. Whoever's available, take the next patient. I was delighted when Alex came to the door and called my name. He was everything that (let's call her) Sabrina was not. He was polite, interested, capable, patient.  He ever-so-gently did some stretches to my hips and legs that I have to believe are healing me as we speak.  Even though I could barely walk yesterday and today's no better from the hip impingement. I have to starve myself to keep from gaining any more weight. I'm sore, my butt hurts so I can barely sit, I'm grouchy as a bear, it's supposed to get up to 90 degrees outside today, I'm reluctant to try to do too much (I might get hurt and undo any benefits that may come from PT) and I'm too unmotivated to take on the buffalo gnats and skeeters to go outside and let my dog play.

BOO HOOO HOOO!!!!!

Hello Old Friend!

Jacob with Kitten Nugget circa 1996

When I was in the waiting room for physical therapy yesterday, who should walk in but my son's 2nd grade teacher! 

I greeted her by name, and while she was signing in, I was racking my feeble brain trying to make sure I had the right name for her.  It's been at least 15 years since I've seen her. She looked the same, but lighter --- and she was walking with a walker.

When she came back to sit beside me and visit, I knew I had the right name on the right teacher. She had the waiting room in stitches, talking about all of her walkers, crutches and canes --- they were each named because they're old friends and they take good care of her.  But only one had a female name, though, because she does all the work. 

She asked about my son, by name, and told me she still has this precious little wooden cross he'd made her, painted gold (because gold is her favorite color), and edged in black. She's probably one of the few teachers who remember my son with any fondness, I'm afraid, because she had him in her class when he was still little and sweet and manageable. (Sorry, son...)

She mentioned surgery on her leg, and then proudly told me she's a 4-time cancer survivor.  She's one of the most beloved teachers at my son's school, who's filling her retirement years volunteer-teaching back in the same school. It was so good to see her again.

The Road to Recovery...Maybe

I had my first physical therapy session today.  
That involved being poked and prodded 
and twisted in various configurations.  
I didn't like my therapist, because 
I could tell she didn't like me. 
(Or maybe the young lady 
doesn't like working on old timers, 
or maybe she's just naturally stand-offish...) 
Maybe she didn't know how to deal 
with a fibromyalgia patient who howls in pain 
while she's poking and pulling and tying her in knots.

I have a couple stretches to do twice daily 
and see her again on Monday. 

I feel like I've been beat up!

Why Do They Call Them Dear?

photo courtesy http://www.ForestWander.com

Twice this week I went to town, and both times I saw a doe and her fawn in the same place on our road. I drove slowly behind them.  The sweet little newborn fawn was barely old enough to be dry, and tried to keep up with its mother on long, wobbly legs. When the doe jumped into the woods, the little guy made to follow her, but as soon as it got off the gravel road and into the tall grass of the ditch, it immediately dropped and lay motionless, as flat as it could press itself to the ground. It happened exactly like this both times.  It's an inborn instinct for all fawns to drop and freeze when in danger. Because it's born with no scent, many times a fawn will escape an almost-certain death as it lies still, while its mother lures the predator away from where her baby is hiding.

I sat in my car for a few minutes, looking at it --- then drove away. One should never touch a fawn, as your scent would be left on it, which might cause the doe to abandon her baby. It's hard, though, to look but not want to hug.

SO! This morning I went out to the garden --- muddy, weedy mess --- and discovered gargantuan deer tracks (if I didn't know better, I'd guess it was a moose). Also, what I discovered was that said deer had pigged out on my baby tomato, cabbage, and sunflower plants. I WANTED TO KILL!

I give up! I couldn't be a market gardener if I wanted to. Each year I dread starting a new garden. Last two years I had to deal with drought; now weeds are taking over, because it's been too muddy to work. And I'm getting all crippled up and slow. If gardening, a lifelong joy, no longer gives me pleasure... let it go! Sow the whole meadow in rye and take up wildlife watching.  Transform the place into a Pony Park and make some money  ... Move to town! Rrrrrrrrrr!

ME AND DEER?

IT'S A LOVE - HATE RELATIONSHIP!

This Week's Rant-a-Rama

What do you guys think of storm-chasers? 

Photo courtesy Jon Sullivan http://pdphoto.org/

I know there was a time when they were valuable look-outs for dangerous storms and contributed vast amounts of info about what goes on inside a tornado, but with today’s Doppler radar, weather satellites, and computer technology --- are they really necessary?

What burns me up --- I mean really sets my ass on fire! --- is how the Weather Station announces Tornado Week, the Great Tornado Hunt, etc. etc., like tornadoes are some form of high entertainment!  You can just hear the glee in the storm chaser’s voice when he says it looks like a good day for spotting a tornado, or the disappointment when it never materialized.

It seems like every TV station shows storm photos that viewers send in. So besides all those professional storm-chasers, the roads are also busy with amateur lookie-loo’s. Talk about the ultimate in distracted driving! 

The other morning, when they predicted more tornadoes for Oklahoma, right after that bad one in Moore, I told my husband, “Just wait. One day a car full of storm-chasers will get killed. Then will they finally put a stop to this insanity?”  That evening 3 pro-storm-chasers lost their lives.

I just think it’s the utmost insensitivity and stupidity for the Weather Channel, Discovery Channel, etc. to make such a sport of storm-chasing --- adrenaline junkies are going to be out there on the roads cruising for the ultimate thrill, and believe it or not, sometimes they even have their kids with them!!! And get this: they even have tour companies now that offer the best in storm-chasing adventures! [Free Depends for all Passengers!]

Hopefully, after seeing dramatic footage of storm-chaser vehicles plowing through blown- apart barns, slammed by round hay bales that can weigh up to a ton, and tumbled over and over like an insane carnival ride, folks will realize that cars are the worst place to be in a tornado! 

PEOPLE! 

GROW A BRAIN & LEARN TO USE IT!

So, that’s my rant for the week. With a sincere prayer added for all those who are suffering and faced with the overwhelming task of rebuilding their lives after this latest round of super-cell tornadoes. My heart goes out to you.

I'd Rather Take My Chances with an Earthquake or a Volcano

After two weeks of serious storms and way too much rain, we’ve finally had a couple dry days here. My husband went back to work on the farm today (finally!). They were able to get the corn planted during an earlier, drier spell, but now it’s standing in flooded fields. They’re way behind on planting soybeans, and if this rainy weather keeps on much longer, the wheat crop will be ruined. Not to mention they haven’t been able to do any haying. Farmers just can’t seem to catch a break any more.

We live in Tornado Alley. I HATE living here.  Where can I go to live out the rest of my days not having to worry about tornadoes? Seeing the destruction others (especially in Oklahoma) are faced with from the outbreak of twisters this past week, I feel very fortunate. I’m just devastated looking at all the tornado damage, because I think that would be the worst thing --- one minute you have your life and home and family, and then suddenly it can all be gone, with your most treasured and personal possessions scattered all over the countryside.

 

I just about go crazy when a storm approaches, as it did a few days ago. I wanted to jump in the van and run away from here, but Rich said, "There's no place to go. The storm front stretches all the way from Texas to Canada." 

 

Our dog goes and hides in the bathroom when he senses a storm coming.You can almost predict the weather by where he's napping.

That's How It Always Goes

Are you like me? You put off going to the doctor til you're nearly dead, finally make an appointment (for a week away) and suddenly, you're all well!

Last weekend (Mem. Day), I COULD NOT WALK for about four days! I've always had this little glitch in my right hip joint. And really, that's no surprise. My right leg has taken quite a beating over the years.

About 30 years ago, on the farm, we used cattle panels as gates between pastures. (Cattle panels are long sections of stiff wire fencing.You wire them to the fence posts.) Anyway one day, while opening one, it got caught in the tall grass. I tugged and tugged and when it finally tore loose, it came down right across the top of my right foot. I'm sure it broke every little bone in my foot, and I literally "saw stars," the pain was so acute.

Not long after that, I accidentally stepped in a bucket in the barn, and the far side swung up and whacked me a good one in the right shin.

Not long after THAT, I was kicked in the pelvis (right side) while trying to load a horse in the trailer. Saw stars with that one too! I'm sure most people have no idea how hard a horse can kick. I didn't either until one connected with my mid-section. The ER doctor said if it'd been an inch to the left, I would have sustained serious internal injuries.

About 25 years ago, after we moved up here, we were having trouble with trespassing hunters. I heard one's truck coming up the hill one day, so I ran out to try to apprehend. It was a January thaw, so the ground was greasy. I slipped and my right leg went straight out sideways at a 90 degree angle at the knee --- messed up something, meniscus, I think --- that was a bad one.

Another time I went to step off the porch and sprained my right ankle. Just this past winter I slipped on ice and landed, yes, on my right hip. When I have gout, it's in my right big toe.  Because of all this trauma to my right leg, I think my left leg is shorter from taking my weight when I limp.

So, anyway, I've always had this occasional glitch in that hip. I can be walking along and BAM! My hip freezes up, very painfully, and I have to stop dead in my tracks til the pain passes. Then I'm usually okay.

Last weekend, I couldn't walk at all. I couldn't walk from the living room to the kitchen without almost falling in the floor. Hip impingement?  Arthritis? Bone spur?

Even though I've been walking fine all day, I think I'll keep the appointment and have them take X-rays. It's bound to return.

That ON TOP OF another fibro-attack. For the past four or five days I've barely been able to get out of bed, my legs hurt so bad from hips to toes. Fibro is a form of nerve damage: no known cause and so far no cure. Forget about Advil, Tylenol (with or without codeine), Vicodins, Oxycontins, morphine. Nothing (and I mean NOTHING) touches the pain of fibro. It's like a migraine of the body, instead of the head. I just spend a lot of time writhing in bed, crying, trying to sleep it off.

Today, for the first time in two weeks, it didn't rain.  Today was a beautiful cool, sunny day.

And I felt GOOD for a change!

And the Winner Is...

Largest Morel of 

the 2013 Spring Mushroom Season

6.5 inches tall

Fear THIS!

 
My toothless 
German Shepherd!  

Okay, you might not bleed --- 

but his jaws could break an arm.

More Uninvited Visitors

It’s the heat of the day. My husband, who’s deathly allergic to bee venom, is out mowing the meadow.

I’m pottering around in the afternoon shade by the greenhouse, and my eyes are scanning (as they always do) the edges of the woods that surround the meadow. I have to be on the look-out for deer, because my dog loses every shred of intelligence when he sees a deer, and the chase is on.  And this time of year, I’ve seen little spotted-fawns scamper out of the woods, right into our back yard --- then stand there, dumbfounded, “where am I?”  It would have a short life if my dog saw it first.

I’m scanning the woods and I see something that doesn’t belong: this thing looks like a remnant of somebody’s dark brown shag carpet hanging in a high branch of a tree. But we haven’t had any high winds to leave debris in a tree, so I ran and got the binoculars out of the truck.  Turns out, it’s a swarm of bees!

I hollered for Rich to stop and showed him the bees in a tree that he had just mowed under. Bees are supposed to be real sensitive to loud noises, like lawn mowers. I came in the house and did a quick internet search on bee swarms and found out that they're not that aggressive when they swarm. They're just out searching for a new place for their queen to set up her royal nursery.  So I got my camera and took some pictures.

A little later we came in the house for a break.  When we went back out, the bees were gone --- moved on. In the 25 years we’ve lived here, I’ve only seen a swarm of bees once, and it was just passing over.

A swarm of bees in May is worth a load of hay;

A swarm of bees in June is worth a silver spoon;

A swarm of bees in July, let them fly.

  ~old English rhyme

My Arachniphobia

I don't like spiders. Snakes I can handle, literally, but insects (especially spiders) just creep me out to the max! My fear goes back to my childhood in California. I was only 5 years old when my family was returning home after dark from next door, after an evening spent with our neighbors. I skipped on ahead, and as I rounded the corner onto our patio, there it was! 

A huge tarantula was positioned between the porch light and the patio wall, so it threw this monstrous spider shadow onto the wall. I immediately went into screaming hysterics. I've never been the same.

This morning, when I got up and staggered out of my room to make coffee, I almost stepped on our latest wild visitor! He was right outside my door, on the floor. What if I'd squished him with my bare foot when I made my way (twice) in the dark last night to use the bathroom? Or worse, what if he'd crawled into bed with me in the night?

Okay, so he's no tarantula, 

but in my opinion, 

he's far bigger than he oughtta be!

A Vet Proves a Deadly Point!

Please check out this video. 

A veterinarian sits in a closed-up car for 30 minutes on a hot sunny day to demonstrate what a poor, helpless dog suffers in such a situation:

http://www.ebaumsworld.com/video/watch/82689781/

Besides a stiff fine for this cruel treatment of an animal, the perp should be forced to endure 60 minutes in a hot car like this, with a paramedic standing by to bring him/her back from the brink of death as they succumb to heat stroke!

Most people just don't think! They love their dogs and want to take them everywhere they go. Tragically, a lot of dogs that die in overheated cars were beloved pets. Their owners would NEVER have done anything intentionally to hurt them! But they made a stupid mistake about something so obvious:

HOT CARS ARE 

TORTURE CHAMBERS 

FOR INNOCENT PETS!

HOT CAR FACTS --- PET PARENTS!

According to the ASPCA website:

"Automobile temperatures can very quickly rise to dangerous levels; the average temperature increase in a parked car is 40 degrees, and the majority of this increase occurs in the first 15 to 30 minutes," says Dr. Louise Murray, Vice President of ASPCA Bergh Memorial Animal Hospital. When it’s 80 degrees outside, your car will be a staggering 114 degrees after 30 minutes!

IF YOU SEE A DOG (OR A CHILD) LEFT ALONE IN A HOT CAR:

DO THE RIGHT THING!  GET INVOLVED!  CALL 911!

14 states (AZ, CA, IL, ME, MD, MN, NV, NH, NJ, NY, ND, SD, VT, and WV) have statutes that specifically prohibit leaving an animal in confined vehicle under conditions that pose a threat to the life of said animal.

What is WRONG with People???

Q: What is WRONG with people? Are they just clueless?

I went to the library today, then stopped at Steak N Shake for a bite, before going to get groceries at Walmart (directly across the street from St/Sh).

So I eat, come out to go to my car, and right there in front of the door, in a handicapped space, was a big white car with tinted black windows, and a poor little fluffy white dog inside howling like a banshee. I was just so upset, but what to do? I called 411 for St/Sh's phone number, then called them. I told the girl who answered what was going on and she said she'd tell the manager. I said to be sure and do it NOW because I'm sitting out here in the parking lot and I'm getting ready to call the police.

Nothing happened. Granted, this was the lunch rush and the place was packed. So I got out my little spy-girl notebook and my cell phone and marched over to the car, took down the license plate number, and went over and stuck my hand in the open-cracked window to see just how hot it really was in there. HOT! The little dog is going bananas, which only makes him hotter.

I went in and asked for the manager. I apologized for disturbing him at such a busy time, then explained the situation. He went out, looked at the dog, came back in and shrugged. So I said, "well, I'm not going to let this little dog suffer. I'm calling the police."

"Oh, no, don't do that! I'll go ask around." He wandered around the restaurant asking everyone if it was their car with the dog in it. Finally, it was the last couple he asked and he told them "This young lady is concerned about your dog out in the hot car." (I wanted to smack him. Young lady! Dude, I'm old enough to be your granny. Don't condescend to me!)

The woman says "Oh, we cracked the windows and he has water. He'll be ok." So, I very gently but urgently explained that "it's 80 degrees outside right now, and I stuck my hand inside your window and I can guarantee it's at least 90 or 95 in your car. Your dog is close to heat stroke." She just gave me this sour smile and said, "We're about done here. He'll be ok." I said, "OK, I'm calling 911." And I marched outside and faked like I was dialing right in front of her car and then walked up and down gesturing like I was talking on the phone.

She came flying out there and unlocked the back door and crawled halfway in to soothe her howling doggie, and she was saying, "Oh, my goodness, Honey! It IS hot out here! Oh, no! I didn't know! Oh, Honey, I'm sooooo sorry. I'm so sorry!" 

So she tries to make excuses: "it wasn't that hot when we went in" (DUUUUUHHHH! Did you happen to drive up with your A/C on, do you think?), etc. etc. I put on my best teacher voice and educated her about how much smaller dogs are than people, so they succumb to the heat quicker, and those black-tinted windows soak up the sun and heat the car up like the inside of an oven. Etc. etc. I'm proud of myself for handling all this as calmly as I did, because I can get really nasty when I'm upset.

So she said she'd stay outside with the dog while her husband finished eating. I offered to walk her dog for her, so she could go back in and finish her meal. But no, she said that wasn't necessary. I think she just wanted me gone! I told her she could trust me, and she said she's sure she could, but her dog isn't good with strangers. So I wandered off and went across the street to Walmart where I sat watching her walk her dog up and down the street for the next half hour! I wanted to make sure she didn't just put him back in the hot car. 

Finally her husband came out --- all-in-all that dog would have been broiling in that car for almost an hour if I hadn't caused such a ruckus and ruined their meal.

And don't it feel good  
to be so mean  
to them that deserves it!

Hello, Little Darlin'

I woke up this morning and stumbled into the kitchen to make coffee --- and I just about jumped outta my skin!  Scared the living daylights outta me! There was this cute little froggy sitting in a puddle on a plate in the sink looking up at me. Where did he come from???

See, this is a bad habit I picked up from my Auntie Almeda many years ago when I was a kid. She loved to have big feasts for the family, but she refused to do the dishes afterwards and wouldn't allow anyone else in her kitchen to clean up either. She said she had all day tomorrow to do the dishes. We'd just clear the table and sit back and drink beer and visit. (Miss you, Auntie!)

I'm the same way.  Fixing supper is hard enough work. I can always do the dishes in the morning when I'm feeling more energetic. So I usually stack them in the sink for an overnight soak.

We had spaghetti last night. Wonder how our little friend liked the sauce! (I know, this is kinda gross!)

Sick of 'Em!

Morels! You gotta love 'em.  But you can also get sick of them when you eat them night after night.  I have bags of them in my refrigerator. Bags ready to fry. Bags of mushrooms that need to be cleaned yet. I hope they hold til Friday --- we'll take them over to our son's and cook them up for him and his friends.

 I can't tromp around in the hills and hollers any more to hunt them like I used to. But maybe that's for the best: I hate getting ticks on me. But my husband is a 'shroom-nut, and he has plenty of woods to hunt in, because he works for a farmer. 

When we first moved here, this was a morel paradise. But the last 3 or 4 years, we haven't found many on our 35 acres. Rich probably hunted them to extinction here.

People go CRAZY over these little fungi! They drive out in the country, see a woodlot that looks promising, hop out of their cars and tramp all over private property, trying to catch 'em a mess of mushrooms. They're going for $30 a pound (a pound being about enough for two people to make a meal of)! We saw people asking $45 a pound on E-Bay. We could go into any bar and sell out in a matter of minutes. We used to pull into the Kmart parking lot, let down the tailgate and set out our bags of mushrooms --- they'd be sold almost instantly, before Kmart even knew we were out there peddling them.

A Fine Mess

My flower beds, up along the house, are the first things I planted when we moved here a quarter of a century ago.  But, over the years, they've suffered from neglect, as we made an ever larger vegetable garden.  I really don't know what to do about them now.  They're full of weeds, poison ivy, tree seedlings, etc.

Yes, it's a mess... but a pretty one... 

My grape hyacinths look so colorful with the dandelions!

Correction

The story I reported on a couple days ago is starting to change from what the news had originally reported.  I hate when that happens, but it usually does at a murder scene when there's no one left to witness what happened.  Just want to clear this up on my blog.

The 23-year-old murdered woman was the killer's ex-sister-in-law. He was in a custody dispute with his ex-wife (her sister) over their 6-year-old daughter.

In an early TV interview with a family spokesman, even before the killer was caught, it was stated that she'd recently found out she was pregnant again.  And the police thought the massacre was either drug-related (yes, the guy was a druggie, no surprise there) or over a custody dispute. So everyone was assuming the worst of the poor girl, that she had been carrying his child.

Now they're assuming that he killed his ex-wife's sister and her family because if he couldn't have his baby, she wasn't going to have hers either.

It is also speculated that when he saw that the 6-year-old girl (his niece by marriage) was still alive, he may have started to realize the awful thing he had done and was perhaps thinking of his own 6-year-old daughter when he handed the little girl over to a neighbor to call 911 before he fled the scene.

The child's condition has been upgraded to fair.  What a horrible, tragic thing this child will carry with her the rest of her life.  It just breaks my heart!

Too Close to Home

A terrible thing happened this morning in the neighborhood. There's a small town south of here, and at 4:30 this morning a deranged 43-year old man, bipolar & off his meds for a year, burst into an apartment and massacred a family: grandmother (66), her grand-daughter(23) and her 29 year old live-in boyfriend, their 5 year old son and 1 year old baby. Their 6 yr old daughter is in critical condition.

For some reason he handed the little girl to a neighbor before he took off in his car. He was eventually caught by police on a road just 5 miles south of us. There was a shoot-out, he was taken into custody and died of his gunshot wounds at around 10:30 this morning.

Motive is not official, but some in the village said that the granddaughter was pregnant with his baby and they were going through some kind of legal thing about that, which might have set him off.

At least there won't be a trial for this slimeball loser. I'm just stunned! What is this world coming to???

Went Visiting

Today, we actually DID something for a change, besides sitting around here moping in the rain. We went down to Rich's parents for lunch and card-playing. They've been trying to teach me to play euchre for over a year now, and I'm finally catching on. Grandma and I beat Grandpa and Rich 2 games to 1. I was smokin'!

I think Rich will return to work tomorrow. It's still too wet to plant corn, but there's machinery they can work on in the shed. This is just a terrible spring. Last spring was so mild and dry that they got everything planted early. It's been nothing but cold and wet and windy all throughout April --- plus that huge snow we got from Winter Storm Virgil. There are floods everywhere. All the creeks and rivers have been out of their banks, and some haven't even crested yet.

IT'S ALWAYS SOMETHING, ISN'T IT?

You Know What They Say About Books?

YOU KNOW WHAT THEY SAY ABOUT BOOKS...

They don't grow on trees.
A book a day keeps the doctor away.
Throw a handful over your left shoulder for good luck.
A book in the hand is worth two on the shelf.
A rolling book gathers no moss.
Books bound in leather stack together.
Don't count your books before they're written.

Scent-sational Idea!

With all this modern technology we enjoy in the 21st century, wouldn't it be great if you could buy a TV that has Smellavision.  Wouldn't you just love to smell Paula Deen's tantalizing sticky buns? LOL. Or inhale the aroma of Rachel Ray's stewp (or is it stoup?) as it bubbles on the stove.

Of course, the TV remote must have a button for shutting off the Smellavision feature when Andrew Zimmern does a foodie excursion to some 3rd-world-country fish market. Or in case a wet, muddy, stinky dog comes on a commercial begging for Beggin Strips.

My husband watches a lot of cooking shows. I wish there was a delivery slot for ordering samples of the food they cook. I'm telling you, Smellavision and SampleVision could be the next new technology crazes! I'd buy stock in it.

Day Three

This is Day Three of My Damn Cold!  Don't get too close, I may still be contagious!

It all started when Rich got home from his annual fishing trip to Mississippi in the middle of March. When he got back, he came down with a real doozy of a cold. After 7 days, and getting no better, he went to the doctor, who gave him an antibiotic for his sinus infection and some cough medicine (the REAL kind that actually helps). Ten days later, he's wondering if he's completely well. Still not up to par. Hopefully he won't have to go on a second round of antibiotics.

All winter (from Christmas onward) I was scared to death I'd get that awful flu that wasn't covered in the flu shots this year (which, BTW, I don't believe in, refuse to get, and am instinctively afraid of) or that equally horrendous stomach virus that was going round. So I stayed home ALL winter!  Rich did my shopping for me. (Remember, I suffer from fibromyalgia, so I'm in horrible pain all over my body more times than not.) I stayed away from crowds and gave up my expectation that I deserve to eat a meal in a restaurant at least once a week.

And then my husband goes and brings a cold home to me. The incubation time for a cold is from 2-5 days. After all this time (17 days), I was hopefully optimistic that I wouldn't catch his cold. But I guess there are enough of his cold germs still around to take me down.

Gee, CC!  What a fascinating topic to blog --- now GET WELL!  You don't have time for this!

Roadhouse Review

Decor at my own End-Of-The-Roadhouse

*ROADHOUSE: Not to be confused with "Roodhouse," an old railroad town in central Illinois.  My computer gadget dictionary says a roadhouse is "a tavern, inn, or club on a country road. This "roadhouse" is on a busy commercial thoroughfare in a big city. No, you can't sleep there (so it's not a genuine tavern or inn), and you can't play poker or golf there, (so it's definitely not a club). But there's a bar and good food --- everybody I know thinks it's a pretty hot-dam place to eat.

 My friends from Texas will probably groan about this one: a dining review for a franchise steakhouse.  But until we get sick of it (not likely to happen, since we dine out so seldomly in our poverty-stricken retirement), it's a hard place for us to pass up if we're in Springfield at the right time of day with hungry bellies tugging at us.

THE TEXAS ROADHOUSE REVIEW

The Texas Roadhouse Steakhouse is a hoot! It's definitely not a quiet dining experience, so be forewarned. Personally, I have a low tolerance for noise of any kind (probably from my early years of working audio/quality control at Capitol Records), so I just mostly ignore the hooplah and keep on eating.

If you come in celebrating a birthday, five or ten of the servers will escort you and your party to your table with staccato hand-clapping loud as gun-fire. Then they will loudly announce your big day to the entire restaurant, ending with a resounding Texas YEE-HAW! that nearly brings down the critter heads hanging on the walls.

We've also been there when the whole wait-staff line dances, when a certain song comes on. Their hand-clapping makes the palms of my own hands sting!

Needless to say, this place is popular with families and fun-seekers alike. But you'd better get there when it opens, at 4 p.m., or you're likely to find yourself waiting for a table. The service (despite many side-tracking performances) is fast and friendly. And the food is not only good, but also abundant for the price.

I always get the Chicken Fried Sirloin with mashed potatoes and gravy and a side Caesar salad. The salad is ample, and it comes with delicious bread rolls (all ya can eat, pard-ner!), so by the time I get to the main course, I'm stuffed and end up taking half or more home with me. The next day, when I chop the leftovers up for lunch, it fills an entire dinner plate.

Seriously, you don't go away from Texas Roadhouse hungry OR empty-handed.

Yes, I KNOW CFSteak is BAD! Oh, the gravy! Oh, the crunchy, fried-chickeny coating! Oh, the bliss! I don't eat like this at all, most of the time --- so a little comfort food in a high-energy setting, once in a while...when I really need it, work wonders!

 

Spring Fever

Stained Glass Tulip by My Sister Debbie

It's spring fever.  
That is what 
the name 
of it is.  
And when you've got it, you want - 
oh, you don't quite know what it is you do want, but it just 
fairly makes 
your heart ache, 
you want it so!  

~Mark Twain