Thanks a Lot!

You all were supposed to stop me.

I’m going to blame the lack of comments for the reason that I now seem to have a dog.

Not that I'm in love, and love is blind and stupid just like me!

Hey, at least it's not a man! A dog is WAAAAAY better!

Love At First Sight=Stop me, please!

Last month one of my friends called me and said, I got puppies. And I'm going away this weekend. Can you keep them for me?
Puppies? Say no more. I love dogs.


I went to my friend's house to get a look at the creatures who would soon be peeing all over my carpet. There were two dogs, but I'm sorry, I saw only one, falling instantly in love:

The owner has no terrier experience and is overwhelmed. I could have this dog. But sailing is in my future, and while there are certain situations where one can have cake and eat it too, sailing and dogs simply do not mix. I know, I tried it. After too many days being chronically seasick, my two Jack Russells packed their little bags and jumped ship.

For all of those who know me and love me, please please please, comment now. Keep me from saying to the owner, when she comes to get her dogs, why don't you leave Roxy with me. Stop me now, or this poor beautiful dog will have to go sailing, something no dog should ever have to experience!

The Great Man Deterrent (hopefully)

Today it finally happened. Before I tell you what, let me set the scene a bit: My bathroom has soft mood lighting and a 3x5 inch mirror. That’s it. There’s another, larger, mirror in the closet, but that lighting is worse. I haven’t really seen myself since I moved in three months ago.

I have always looked a whole lot younger than I really was, and wondered how that would play out as time went by. I was carded twice at age 40, a scant three years ago. Would I still get carded at 50? Or would old age hit me all at once, like a blast of wind from a hurricane?

This morning I got my answer. I was sitting on the couch in bright sunshine, holding that little mirror from the bathroom, trying to get that damned tick off my neck using tweezers. (reminder-get a lyme’s test) The light hit just right and I was awestruck at what I saw. Tiny, fine lines all over my face. Surely it must be the light? I tilted the mirror this way and that, focusing the sun, and only saw more evidence of that dreaded American disease: aging.

Well then. That was rather abrupt. How rude. What happened to an occasional laugh line, followed by a few gray hairs, adding in a crease by the eyes, all slowly building to old hag? How do I feel about this sudden shriveling? Well heck, since recent events have left me feeling old, I guess I may as well look the part. Thing is, I know the feeling is temporary and will pass once I go sailing again. The wrinkle bit, well, I don’t believe in artificial ingredients, so there it is.

There are plus sides to this. Time and again, in bars and restaurants all over this great land, I have watched men well into their 60’s or better, bypass groups of women their own age, heading straight to the tables filled with much younger women, to drool all over them. Both groups of women wonder what the hell is wrong with these guys.

Well, they’re guys, they can’t help it. I have been saying that men are like flies, barely brush one off and another one lands. I can’t squash them fast enough. But now that it appears as though I’ll be crossing over to the ‘old’ category sooner than expected, I can be hopeful that finally, after all these years, the pests will bypass me on their way to make fools of themselves on fresher fruit, leaving me in peace.

If that turns out to be the case, glory halleluiah, bring on the pruneage.

Your Tax Dollars at Work

Not mine; I don't earn enough to pay taxes. See, there are some advantages to living in a car!

While driving that car, I was so impressed to see brand new, bright and shiny street signs installed in front of the elementary school. How wonderful!

Just one thing: that school has been closed since 2005. The town had to close it in order to afford the annual fireworks display. The building is now just an empty shell, nothing whatsoever in it, not even a stray yoga class.

Road crew work=job security.

Oh Deer!

Yesterday there were ice balls on my deck. I never once dared to open the door to go outside. Later it warmed up enough that mass quantities of rain washed away the evil ice, reactivating the mud bath that is my yard. I spent the weekend safely inside, warm and toasty, happily making Christmas gifts, with absolutely no fear of being murdered by impatient, irate shoppers.

Weather variety amazes me. One year, Thanksgiving weekend was so very mild that I decided to make the six hour trek to West Virginia to camp and hike. I departed early Sunday morning, beating traffic, arriving to discover what I’d hoped would be the case: there was no one in the campground besides me and my dogs. Early Monday morning, driving the sixteen miles to the trailhead, I wondered about all the pickup trucks scattered along the roadside. There were eight more in the parking lot when we arrived. What the heck, don’t these rednecks have jobs? Shouldn’t they all be at work today? Why are they out here on ‘my’ trail? Sigh. I let the dogs out, donned my red sweatshirt, and off we hiked on this lovely 60 degree day.

The forest was littered with hunters. Not just sitting in trees, but riding mountain bikes along the trail! Near the end of the twelve mile hike, I accosted a hunter on foot, and asked if it was a tradition to go hang out in the woods instead of going to work, or was the economy really so bad out here in the sticks that they had nothing else to do? Looking at me as though I was a complete imbecile, which given his answer, I was: “it’s the first day of deer season.”

It’s amazing that I’m still alive to tell this tale. Not wanting to ask any more incredibly stupid questions, I went on my way at an accelerated pace, hoping no one would mistake my Jack Russell Terriers for deer. But I did wonder, how could one manage to sneak up on and shoot a deer from a bicycle? And if by some miracle you bagged one, then what? None of the bikes I saw appeared to be equipped with any type of deer carting equipment.
What did I find when the dogs and I reached the van late that afternoon, happily unshot, not once hearing a single gunshot near or far? The ground was littered with tons of deer feet prints that hadn’t been there that morning! At that moment I felt better, because while I may have been stupid enough not to know it was hunting season, at least I hadn’t just been outsmarted by a load of deer who knew the safest place to avoid death on this day was in the parking lot!