Why the Dogs Got Nothing For Christmas

 In a nutshell: because they were BAD. They started out as good girls but then it all derailed!

They began the year loving each other. But then Lilly got jealous of Vivian because she created a new game called "Running Like a Crazy Girl". This involved when I got home, Vivian would run into the living room and then run at me and jump for me to pick her up. And I would because she's so tiny and cute. Lilly is cute but not tiny, so when she figured it out she would go maybe 10 inches from me and run 1 step to beat Vivian to me. I would pick her up and then Vivian would be jealous and go sulk. Then, it got to the point where they would greet me at the door, and then get into a fight with Vivian jumping on Lilly's back. Funny, but not appropriate!

Next, they began growling at each other: from opposite couches. So annoying when you're trying to listen to the TV! And this turned into Lilly attacking her sister just to be mean. That's what squirt bottles are for!

At some point Vivian decided she wanted to be pack leader and tried to bully ME. If she wanted a treat she would come to me, stand on her hind legs and push on my leg while verbally demanding a treat. That got old real fast!

But the piece de resistance (add your own accents) was their defiance if all 3 of us left the house and they were alone. I know they are needy and clingy and have abandonment issues. However, they started something new and a bit dangerous.

I was the first one home one day. They greeted me and we came into the living room. There, in the dog bed, was an opened package of dark chocolate M&Ms. Dark chocolate will kill dogs and mine are small! "Where did this come from???" I asked, like they were going to tell me. I snatched it up and threw it in the garbage. I also told them if they had eaten any: to pray to their God because Pumpkin used up all the emergency vet money. Thank God they were safe, although I had a sneaking suspicion that it was Lilly's doing and she was trying to kill her sister. Good thing there is no evidence that Vivian ate anything!

So over a few months we have come home to several unusual things in their bed. This includes a container of potato salad, marshmallows, popcorn, a strawberry Belvita biscuit, Hershey Kisses and other things that we had no idea where it came from. So we had to make sure everything was put away and there were no lunch bags left on the floor with leftover food. 

However, the best (or worst) thing I came home to was a chef salad in the dog bed. No lie! The container was bigger than Vivian so I know she didn't put it there. Thank God it wasn't open. But that one was my fault: I had gotten it the night before, didn't finish it and had put it back in the to go bag by my dining room chair: forgetting to toss it away. But still: the dogs knew we didn't serve them salad!

So there you have it: the first year our pets got nothing for Christmas because I don't reward bad behavior. Maybe they can redeem themselves for next year and make it back onto the nice list.

Like Living in a Belfry

 

The weather for the past week and a half or so has been unseasonably warm. We loved it! 70-degree weather in November is basically unheard of in upstate New York. I loved it: right up until last Wednesday.

I was at church practicing with the music director of our worship team. As usual, when we were finished with practice we sat in the sanctuary and chatted for a bit. I thought I heard something, but no one else was scheduled to be there. Out of the corner of my eye I thought I saw something near the ceiling. And then it took flight! Yep: it was a bat! I said, “Jim it’s a bat!” He said, “Are you sure it isn’t a bird?” Then it started swooping and he said, “Nope: it’s a bat.” No kidding!

At that point I knew practice was officially over but now I had a dilemma: how was I going to get out of the sanctuary without attracting its attention? “Jim I have to GO!” yet I continued to sit there watching it fly around the far reaches of the sanctuary. “Well yes we should get out.”  Yet we still sat there!

As I watched the acrobatic bat, it finally flew up to a large window that I hadn’t even noticed. It looked like a big square was cut out of a screen. The bat went into there but then came back out; then it went for the screen, appeared to slide down said screen and disappeared. This was my chance to make my break. “Jim, you’re on your own!”  “Let me just turn out the lights –“ “So it can fly back up into the darkness? Nope! Sorry Jim it’s every man for himself and I’m out!” I hightailed it out of there and into the night. I felt a little bad for Jim but not enough to slow down.

Oh how the girls chuckled with mirth when I told them. Brie said, “You seriously left Jim there?” “Yes I did! Survival of the fittest and he’s a man so if you’re slow you blow.” “Nice Christian words mom.” “God will forgive me and so will Jim!”

Thankfully the rest of the evening was uneventful. I was happy to fall asleep on the couch. But then I thought I heard someone calling my name. Regaining consciousness, it was Kitty. “Kitty were you calling me? What do you want?” “Mom, don’t panic but I wanted you to know that there’s a bat up here. I’ll take care of it.” “WHAT????????”

Sure enough, she had found a sleepy little bat outside of her room door. Of course I wished she had just gotten rid of it and not woken me up, but that’s Kitty! She came downstairs and headed out the door with it. And naturally she took a picture of it for Facebook. She put it on a tree, did the photo op, and then it went up the tree: presumably to nap. When she came back in I said, “Aren’t bats supposed to be hibernating now?” Surprisingly, Brie piped up with, “The weather has been so warm that it confused the bats. That’s why they are out now and confused.” Ugh!

Now that the weather is cold again, I hope that I don’t get chased out of the sanctuary during this week’s practice. I also saw that Kitty had reinforced her prior efforts of keeping out any flying visitors. What would I do without her?

Why I'm Not Having Surgery

 

So after over three years of caring for my mother at my house, she is in a really good nursing home. I just couldn’t provide 24/7 care for her anymore and had to finally admit defeat. But she is being well taken care of, they have had NO instances of COVID and she has a wonderful view of the mountains from her room. That’s the good news.

The not so good news is that with these years of helping her, especially if she fell or needed help up from her chair: my left shoulder and low back are jacked up.  When I went to the ortho after I had new x-rays taken, he showed me the x-ray from 2017 and the new one. “Good grief, what kind of abuse have you been experiencing?” he asked. “You have bursitis, calcium deposits, a torn tendon and bone spurs.” Yep: all that damage from taking care of my mother. And yes: it hurts like a mother! But it’s what you do for your parent.

Anyhoo, I’ve been going to PT which I dislike intensely. I have pretty much no range of motion (without excruciating pain) when I try to reach behind me or raise my arm past a certain point. So what I like about PT is the heat pack, the ultra sound and the ice pack at the end. Any actual exercises just make me mad because it hurts. But I do them to the best of my ability and then go home and whine to the daughters who roll their eyes and tell me I need to do them. Haters!

I recently had an MRI done and the ortho set me up with an appointment to see the surgeon because he really feels that some arthroscopy to clean up my shoulder will go a long way towards helping me. I see the surgeon in four weeks. I asked my ortho how long the healing process is and he said 12 weeks. I said, “Out of work????” and he said no, I could probably go back to work after 4 to 6 weeks. Small consolation: that’s all of my vacation and sick time!

So here’s the reason why I’m not having surgery: because there is no one to take care of me while I heal. Sure my girls say they will. LIES! And here’s how I know.

Right now, since I can’t reach behind me, I cannot unhook my b-r-a. If I ask Kitty to help me, she looks like she expects me to flash her afterwards. I have to reassure her that she only has to reach under the back of my shirt and do it. She is still very squeamish about it and tries to do it without actually touching me.  Sheesh, I changed your diaper but you don’t want to help me with this small task??

Brie, on the other hand, acts too happy to do it. She tries to creep me out by doing the porn music while she’s unhooking it. She thinks she’s funny but she is not! At least she gets it done without acting like I have cooties.

When I am getting dressed I can at least put the b-r-a on backward, hook it, turn it around and then try to slide the straps over my arms. But I can’t exactly do the left side so again I have to ask creepy Brie for help. Which involves waking her up, which is an adventure all by itself. Once I get her cognizant and coherent she is good about it. The only unfortunate thing is that once I get my arms in and the straps up, (gentlemen close your eyes for this part) sometimes all of my naughty bits are in the b-r-a and sometimes they aren’t. Then I have to do this move that hopefully shakes everything into place.

But the best part is my hair. I can’t do the left side correctly because I can’t raise my arm. So again: time to wake up Brie. Sometimes I am successful: sometimes not so much. She was sleeping on the couch one morning and I said, “Can you help me with my hair?” “Sure momma.” She then proceeded to not only not turn her face from the back of the couch: she also just moved her hand in the air like she was actually touching my hair. “Brie, you’re supposed to be doing my hair!” “I am momma.” Still waving her hand in the air. “It looks really nice.” “You haven’t even touched it nor looked at it!” Still facing the couch: “Yes I did and you look beautiful momma.” Seriously! I cannot make this stuff up.

At least the one thing they will do is spray or roll icy hot on me. Not because they love me: oh no, it’s because they don’t have to touch me. Rude! It isn’t like I have crocodile skin: my skin is actually quite nice since I take good care of it. Well, most of it. Sorry left side! Guess I’ll have to keep on with the PT and maybe consider the arthroscopy so I can stop torturing the girls into helping their mother.  

So until I can find someone, other than the dogs, to take care of me during a convalescence: say a prayer for me healing and not needing surgery at all!

Gypsy Rose Rita

I had thought all summer about doing a blog discussing my beginning club days. I was 16 when I started going out dancing and I was immediately hooked (love you Lisa J!). But since its mid September that boat has kind of sailed. But due to some recent events here's a memory that has come back to the surface.

End of summer 1976. My parents decided to take the change-of-life kids, Clancy and Robin, on vacation to Maryland for a week. The rest of us couldn't go because we all had to work. So you know what that meant: PARTY TIME!!

My older brothers were notorious for the parties they threw. All of my girlfriends knew this. So with no parents around, and their parents not knowing it: we planned to go to the Airport Inn at night and then they would stay at my house and party with the older fellas. Sounded fine to me as long as a i got my fix of dancing with guys from New York City and Montreal first.

I didn't smoke or drink or do drugs. Dancing with hot guys was my drug of choice! We girls would go out until one or two a.m. and then beat it back to my house. I'd say hi and goodnight to the guys and go to bed upstairs: leaving my girls to...whatever they were doing! Then in the morning I would get ready for work and step over the bodies sleeping on the floor as I left for work!

And then Thursday night rolled around. Out to the club as usual and then back to the house. But this night I stayed up a while to be social; finally heading upstairs later than usual and knowing I would be a sleepy unit at work.

Upstairs there were two large bedrooms but I used the bed in the hallway. I was exhausted and only had a couple of hours to sleep. I slipped out of my skirt and pulled my top off over my head. I hung the clothes up on the clothing rack and finally slipped beneath the sheets, turning over to sleepily face the wall.

Suddenly: I wasn't alone! Someone had slid into the bed with me! I hurriedly turned back over and it was my brother's best friend who shall remain nameless. "What are you doing???" I asked.

He looked confused. "Um...I was in the bedroom and i thought you were undressing for me. "

"No, I was undressing for me. I have to be at work in like 3 hours. I had no idea that anyone was up here."

A crestfallen look came over his face. "Oh. So you want me to go?"

This was a really good-looking guy that I had had a crush on for two years and NEVER thought I'd ever have a chance with. Healthy, tall, tan, smart and only dressed in his underwear. I honestly paused for a moment. But then I remembered who I was. I wasn't like my friends, I was only 16, went to church every Sunday and was planning to hold on to my virginity until I was married. Yes I went clubbing and occasionally kissed a guy or two (it was the 70s!) But I knew who I was. Regretfully (hey I was still a human teenage girl!) I said, "Yeah, I think its best if you go back to the room." He kissed my cheek. "Okay goodnight." Then I watched him go back into the room.

Yes thats right I watched him. I was 16 and he was fine and only in underwear! But seriously as I think back on that a lot of things could have gone wrong. He could have refused the word no. He could have cursed at me and called me a tease. Or he could have gone downstairs and lied to everyone about bagging me. But he did none of those things because at the end of the day he respected my wishes: something that doesn't always happen in situations like that.

When I recounted this to my girlfriends (come on, you knew I would!) they couldn't believe I turned him down. "You did a strip tease for him and then turned him down???" one friend asked incredulously. "I didn't know he was there!" I insisted. "House rules were no one upstairs." Another girl said, "I wouldn't have said no!"  Few girls would have but I'm thankful that even though I was naive back then: I was still smart enough to keep my reputation intact. Thankfully that was also the last night of notorious parties so I wouldn't be tempted again.

And thats my Gypsy Rose Lee story: the closest I ever came to being a stripper!

Still Saying the Darnedest Things Part 3

My darling Kitty has one of the sweetest dispositions of anyone I know. She's generally cheerful and everyone loves her.

But what most people don't know is that she has a bit of a macabre side. She collects Living Dead Dolls, which are dolls that come in a casket complete with a death certificate. They are eerily beautiful, but can be a bit frightening. Just ask Brie's friend Jennifer, who is terrified of them. Especially since there is one that looked just like her named Tenebrae!

When Jennifer spent the night once: in the morning she heard something scratching at the door and swore it was one of Kitty's dolls. We told her it was just Victoria the cat wanting to get in, but to this day she doesn't believe that. 😂

Kitty doesn't have the dolls to scare people: she finds them intriguing and uses them to make stop-motion videos that she puts on YouTube on her kaiennasunshine5000 channel. Please check it out! She does music video covers (Addicted to Love is one of my favorites!) and she also does mini movies. She is so talented! Here's a shot of some of the "backup dancers" from one of her videos.

Frozen Charlotte doesn't get to be in videos much because she has on ice skates.

Anyhoo, so sweet Kitty loves these dolls and uses them in very creative ways. They are on a stand in her room and now there are 50 of them...so we tread lightly when we have to go in there!

Here is a picture of Sadie, she's the one on the right, and she's the ringleader. This was actually a shot I had planned to use as the cover for one of my books. Then I thought better of it!

With all this being said, and in case you don't believe how dark Kitty can be: let me tell you what she said to her sister 2 days ago. Unfortunately Brie had a growth removed from her leg. The biopsy results came back that there are abnormal cells and they need to go in again. Of course this just devastated us. But God is on the throne and we know it will turn out all right.

She and Kitty had some sister errands to run. On the way home, Kitty says to her, "Your leg will be okay." Brie thanked her for the sentiment. Then Kitty followed that up with, "But just in case they have to amputate it: will you see if  you can bring it home for me?" Brie was not amused; but when she recounted this to me I laughed out loud. I'm sorry: funny is just funny and at least it lightened the mood!

So that's our Kitty 😄 You gotta love her!

Harder Than I Thought

This isn't anything I've broadcast, but Marie has been declining health-wise this year. I took care of her for over three years. I'm not going to go into detail, bur her diabetes has gotten harder to manage, she has some dementia, diabetic neuropathy and was having trouble walking. She knew that if it got to the point where she couldn't walk: I wouldn't be able to take care of her.

Sadly, we hit that point last Monday at 3 in the morning.  She didn't want to go to the hospital but I knew she needed to go. There wasn't much I could do for her because my left shoulder and lower back are jacked from years of getting her or my father up if they fell; or helping them up from a chair. Bone spurs, a torn tendon, calcium deposits and bursitis: I hope somehow I can avoid surgery. But I digress...

I was able to go to the ER with her. No good news there: I was told that I could no longer care for her at home and she needs 24/7 care now.

It's weird: in the back of my mind I had wondered if I would "get my life back", so to speak. But now that it's imminent: it isn't what I thought it would be. I've become so used to seeing her in my house that it's hard not seeing her there, and knowing she won't be back. I have been sleeping on the couch for a year so I could hear her if she needed anything in the night. I'm still on the couch when I can finally be in my room. I still wake up at 1:30 a.m. and don't fall back to sleep until 3 or 4 a.m. Every night. Her chair is empty. Her sparkling waters are still in the grocery bag. And her snacks from Schmoop-Dog are still by her chair.

Last Thursday she was transported to a facility up north for rehab. But the doctor has already said the dementia will be a big detriment to rehab. So I will have a conference call this Thursday to discuss a plan going forward.

And what does "getting my life back" consist of? Me, like Bella from Twilight, sitting and staring at her empty chair. Yeah: not having Marie here is harder than I thought...

Fashion During the Pandemic

Goodness, I could barely type the title with a straight face! What fashion? Yes I started out with the best of intentions, but you know what they say about that.

All the experts said that just because you're home: do the same things you would do as if you were going to the office. So up early, shower, get dressed and head for my workspace and working at 8.

This worked for about a week, and then my will got less and less. Up not as early, bird bath, leggings and sweatshirt and working at 8.

Then, as the shelter in place dragged on, some mornings became roll off of couch, stumble into the work area and hope there were no Zoom meetings scheduled. If there was a virtual meeting, 15 minutes before I would go into the bathroom to make myself presentable from the waist up and be camera ready by the time I logged into Zoom. I was doing...okay.

But as the pandemic wore on, the hardest hit for me was hair salons being closed. This was not good news for my hair. After a while it looked like Victoria was curled up on my head, which was not the look I was going for. I continued to moisturize and brush and what not but my hair waved the white flag and said 'good luck'! Thank goodness my salon finally reopened and I was able to tame my mane.

However, when the weather turned sub-Saharan and stayed that way: I knew wardrobe was going to be an issue. Even though my normal body temperature runs low, I run warm. So when the heat index is over 100, humidity is high and it's in the 90s finding something to wear is problematic. After all: if you're cold you can put on more clothes but if you're hot there's only so much you can take off in public before you're arrested.

Thankfully I have a lot of tank dresses and sleeveless dresses. But some of them are knit and no one wants to wear that fabric when it's 94 degrees. The ones that are cotton should be cooler, but that material sticks to you and heaven forbid you forget to un-tuck whatever got molded to a crevice! I have no idea why I have summer maxi dresses, when that's like wrapping your whole body in a sheet. Not refreshing! And then I was looking for a certain black and white print dress and thought I saw it through the side of a tubby. Yay! I lifted the lid a crack and pulled it out.

What I actually pulled out was a dress I had never seen before. It was a blue dress with white stripes. It looked like a beach cover up but I don't go to the beach. There was no price tag on it; and without my glasses I couldn't even read the label. So I asked Brie, "Is this yours? Have you seen it before?" She answered, "Nope! When did you buy it?" "I don't think I did!" But you know what? I threw that mystery dress on and kept it moving!

Even though the college is closed right now, I am able to work there a couple of days a week. The first day I was there I saw the Business Manager and she was wearing jean shorts. Eureka!! If that woman can wear shorts on campus, so can Rita! Until we reopen, that is. Dilemma solved!

Now I just need to hope that the weather cools before we actually reopen to the public. Otherwise I'll have to take scissors to those maxi dresses!