Moon Valley? Or Summerwinds?

It started out as an ambitious day. I had to get up and out early for another (fasting) blood draw to see how the recently changed doses of meds were doing: too much? too little? Or a Goldilocks version of just right? 

Of course, when I started the car, the low tire light came on. They weren't that flat, and I'd just been through putting more air in them, so I resolved to look for a tire store on the way home. WalMart has closed all its automotive work departments (covid), so I needed to get actual new tires at a likely not-so-welcome price. I already knew they needed to be replaced, but had been putting it off due to property taxes, car license renewal, new dog, etc. I actually passed a tires place on my way to the doctor, but by the time I got out of there, the line for tires was about 8 cars long. I told myself this particular errand could wait till tomorrow.

After finally being allowed to eat, now that the blood draw was done, I had breakfast and returned home to plant some more of the baby octopus agaves. Much of what was newly planted already or being rescued from this summer's baking needed watering, so that got done as well. But the process reminded me that I had promised myself I was going to get a yellow version of what is called down here a Mexican bird of paradise. Caesalpinia mexicana if you want to look it up. I have the orange one - it came with the house - but the yellow is showier. And October is a great planting month if you want to spend a summer away and leave plants pretty well accustomed to the desert by then. That gives them 8 months.

A local nursery - Moon Valley - has a branch also on my route to and from the doctor's office. I looked them up from home, called, and asked whether they had my plant in a small size for a modest price. Yep. Off I went. It turned  into my kind of a nightmare. The site is huge, no indication of what is where, and I didn't even know what the foliage of my plant looked like. There were helpers around, and I spied one at a cash register, ringing one customer up, with another couple in line. I decided to make myself #3. That's when the cash register guy vanished, informing me he'd be right back in two minutes, after arranging assistance for the couple ahead of me. He never returned. (I looked for a deep sinkhole in the parking lot as I was leaving, wanting to be sure I didn't also vanish into one, but didn't find any.) There was no place to sit, the sun was hot, my legs had already been used enough, and I watched as a plethora of new customers  walked in and immediately received the attention of other staff while I was completely ignored. 

After a full twenty minutes of that, I said "To heck with this!" - literally - and returned to my car, where I called the nursery I was now sitting outside of, got passed from unanswered phone to unanswered phone while a recording asked me to be patient each time, finally asking me to leave a message. Boy, did I! In case they care, they now know exactly why they lost a customer who knew exactly what she was going to buy, and was now going to buy it elsewhere.

I have fond memories of another garden center, not quite so local, where I've shopped before, those few times we didn't get plants at the Desert Botanical Gardens semi-annual plant sales. It's called Summerwinds, and is a ways east on Bell Road. However, they have a large lot, and their entrance is organized so that you go in past the cash register where they have three cashiers assisting customers speedily through their purchases. By the time I walked up to them, all were available to be asked how I could get help. Immediately a young man was flagged down, we got a flatbed type cart, and he took me to the exact spot where my bird of paradise was waiting. He even picked out of the lineup the one with the best shape. By then I remembered I had wanted some aloe vera plants which bloom with orange blossoms rather than what my yard is already full of, the yellow flowering ones. He knew exactly where those were also, though the exact variety I wanted was harder to find. While he looked in one direction, I found two packed-full pots on the next table. Their version is a variety called Safari Rose Aloe. The tag informs me I can text #----- to ----- for more information. If I texted, of course. Luckily, it's an aloe. I'm going to treat it like ... an aloe. They like me. And rabbits hate them! Win-win.

They are no longer in the store. 

He stuck around until I had paid for them, then assisted me in getting them into the car, for which I thanked him sincerely. During our walk to each of the plants' locations, we'd had a chat about my earlier experience at Moon Valley. He agreed that they were terrible. Not only was the service nonexistent, but it turned out that the bird of paradise here at Summerwinds was $10 cheaper!

Tomorrow I'm getting up early and doing some more planting. Likely Saturday as well. You have to soak the ground in order to get anything through it, from a stake to a shovel, and it advances in about 3" depth increments. That's fine for the little pots of agave babies, but now we're talking dirt by the gallons!

I had just enough energy this afternoon, once I sat for a good while, to cut chicken wire cages removed from well established plants, now needing more room for growth and past the yummy-for-rabbits stage, into half sizes for the short plants remaining to be planted, with one tall and wide cage left for the bird of paradise. The number of cages and plants needing them now match exactly!

So, where's the ibuprofin?

Ya Just Gotta Love It

 email to club treasurer

subject: I'm finding this funny....


Hi _____,

I got this letter from the IRS today. Kind of a surprise, for many reasons. It's the second time in my lifetime when they "lost" one of my documents. Reason I'm telling you is the one they "lost" is the 1099 I sent along with a Schedule C. I know it was them, because I don't have theirs, just mine.

Reason I find this funny is it's so pointless. First, you sent in club info early in the year, and they should be able to instantly locate it via computer. It works for banks if you send in erroneous info.

Second, they insist on no staples, paper clips, or other fasteners, so loose things just... "magically" disappear.

And third, I didn't even come near to needing to FILE for last year, but did during that time when we were told it was necessary in order to qualify for those $1200 checks. (You know, because they couldn't manage to find us after sending us SS checks for years, right? Until they figured out they could.) I didn't even bother to claim any expenses on Schedule C, and commented on the form that I wasn't going to bother because I wouldn't need to pay taxes regardless.

So now, they need a copy of the 1099. Think I'll pop into the club and see if the copier is working, donate a quarter, and pop it in the mail to them. (Can't REALLY call it a club expense after all.) I just know they'll tell me it was the wrong one because it'll say it's taxpayer's copy of whatever the terminology is. And I still won't owe any taxes.

Anyway, hope you can appreciate the humor. Wish they could, but I doubt they'd be working there if that were the case.

So-o-o-o nice to be retired.

Heather

PS: I had almost as much fun applying for a loan once. In filing I'd run out of Schedule C forms due to mistakes, and filed at the very end. Back when forms were in P.O. and not online. So for my copy, I just put down "Line 1 _____, Line 13______, etc. Loan officer flipped his lid that it wasn't on a "real" form. I just told him to look one up and fill the numbers in their right places. They never changed the things. Got the loan too!

When Observation Changes The Results

I recall (dimly) that there is a law of physics (subatomic?) which states that observation of something changes what it is. Or maybe where. I never actually took physics in either high school or college, but still catch bits and pieces from reading various science publications. It only comes to mind since I realize it works on a macro level as well. I assure you, I don't go around idly tossing various obscure physics theories around in my mind.

I bet  you already guessed that, right?

I finally got my doc to re-prescribe me a blood sugar meter. In case you forgot - because why not? - I wrecked my brand new one the first time out of the box way back when because my blood thinners were way too efficient - or over prescribed? - and the blood ran down the test strip and into the meter. Instant death for the meter. I saved it in case somebody in the future wants to see if it can be taken apart, cleaned, and gotten working again. You know, during a very boring year or something. Oh hey....

But now I am able to track  my 1st-in the morning sugar levels again. And I'm adjusting my behavior because of it.

The first reading was depressing. This was the day I took several readings throughout the day to see how it changed. So I'm minding my carbs, both quantity and timing of last ones of the day. For example, ice cream is now likely eaten midday rather than bedtime. Each reading gets recorded, and if one is what I consider to be too high, say 120 or above, I make a mental note to have less of whatever and have it earlier in the day. I might also exercise more - some is more than none, right? - though that happens in the early mornings when it's cool outside these days, and I wind up trading it for pool walking, being too tired by late afternoon to head for the pool. Perhaps achey too, depending on the workload.

Steve is also tracking his daily, now that his doc is getting after him about it and just doubled his metformin. Whoever is first to do it reminds the other that they need to also. It's almost a competition between us, with Steve coming out lowest most days. But I console myself with two facts: my levels are dropping, and I'm still not on meds. Considering the side effects Steve is getting from the metformin, that is indeed worth fighting for.

Now, if I can just figure out what that physics theory is and whose, not to mention whether I totally screwed up what I think I remember. It was probably used in a science fiction book I liked a few decades ago, but since I read thousands.... 

Oh well, maybe later. It seems I'm out of ice cream and it's that time.

Yard Games

 

The last two cool mornings have seen me - and the other Heather - out in the yard while the cool lasted, or about 5 hours total. Although I'm aching and whining from a whole lot of sore muscles, I still plan to be out tomorrow morning, finishing a row of 6 agaves lining a bed of flowering bushes along the back of the house.

In olden times it's a project which would have taken a single short morning's labor, but I wouldn't have been chopping my way through caliche or removing 3 " of river rocks from a wide spot for each, or needing to take breaks as frequently as I do now. No, I would have been in shape, digging in moist clay, no rock removal needed. Nor would the plants have been agaves, nor the sun beating down through cloudless skies. I probably wouldn't have needed to chase down and reconfigure 6 chicken wire cages to keep the rabbits out because the new plants were the only yummy food within blocks. I would have been able to kneel for the planting part, the caging part, and the moving rocks back into and around the cage to hold it in place part, rather than having to bend over to reach my hands to the ground. (Thank goodness for all the plants giving privacy from any early rising neighbors!)

On the plus side, there are no mosqitoes. That's a BIG plus. Of course, all the bugs are inside the house these days, so outside is a nice escape. For a bit. I don't actually see the house critters these days, except for dead bedbugs, trying to crawl away from the bed through the diatomaceous earth but bleeding out after a foot or so. I do, however, still feel them sporadically. For the bedbugs, it's the sharp bite on the back in the wee hours, waking me up. Before returning to bed, there's a shower to remove any still hitching a ride on me, plus a change of pajamas to rid me of anything they're currently hiding out in. The clothes hamper is slick plastic, no hiding places, but air holes allow escaping bugs to drop down the the floor to another lovely spread of diatomaceous earth. During the day there are the invisible crawlies to deal with, making yard work more attractive.

So are the plans we are generating for the back yard. Back in 2012 when we first moved down, we brought along a bunch of paving stones. We thought they would serve as a way to walk through the rocks without having to put on shoes every time we went out. Silly thought! First, those nasty rocks were pretty well cemented together (Why? Anybody? ) and needed both soaking and chopping to remove, or even move. After a few years both Fred and Ellie wore paths through them where actual dirt showed through, but the paving stones lay where they had been set, 2" higher than the ground. The supposed paths we were going to make became the places where walking was both difficult and dangerous, except for the dogs. Changing them would be work, and kept getting postponed. Besides, there was no concrete (!) plan for where and how they were to be placed.

Meanwhile, Steve had been commenting ocasionally how nice it would be to have a gas grill out in the yard. Many of our neighbors do. Of course, we have this ginormous pine tree covering the third of the back yard next to the patio, so no fires under there, thank you very much. Then we planted other trees in those three spots where the realtor had refused to pay for water to keep the former orange trees alive while the house was between owners. These new trees, when grown, will make up a canopy over most of the rest of the yard. A spot for a grill to cook safely didn't seem feasible.

However....

My resting spot between bouts of working was under the big pine. While sitting there, I noted there was a spot just at the edge of its drip zone where the only branches  extending overhead were at least 15 feet high, with nothing in any position to come and fill in lower. Hmmm.... After a quick consult with Rich, we mentally designed a rectangle of them which would not only hold a grill but have space on three sides for the person tending it to move around it as well, a nice stable platform. Without the hazardous blocks removed, walking out to it would no longer be a barrier. Sure, shoes needed, but when haven't they in any part of our yard? At least it will be level, itself, and to the ground.

We think it may be a lovely X-mas present to ourselves. Lots of work ahead, soaking ground, removing the green crap, leveling and laying the blocks. Rich says he sees lots of ads giving away gas grills all over the neighborhood on line, to keep costs minimal. (There's an app for that.) And that green crap, chopped into much smaller pieces, will be spread  under those three new trees, which each currently sit inside block rings used to keep irrigation water in place until it soaked in. Those circles are now bare dirt, so they get a bit of mulch, maybe even keeping some of those anonymous tunneling creatures making holes elsewhere. Even if that doesn't work, at least the stuff won't by under our feet any longer. Rich also says his app shows lots of locations giving away river rock fee, you just have to come get it. I used to hit the Washington County compost site back when we were needing garden and yard fill for the then new house up in Shafer. Having a hatchback doesn't sound like much help, but I lined it with a big tarp which came up the sides in the car, and shoveled in what would fit and the suspension would support. Did I mention I used to be in shape? Loads and loads and loads....

There will be three differently shaped blocks left over from that grill project but still in the way, Planting the baby agaves gave me an idea. They border the front edge of that bed, but also leave a gap where we can walk between them and between the bushes to reach the hose. I can fairly easily rake loose rocks away enough to set those blocks in level to them for ease of walking and as an indicator of where to walk through there without messing with the plants, or having the plants messing with you - an important consideration down here where most everything growing is prickly, and can and will.

My resting spot also gives me lots of time to watch Heather explore the yard. It took her several days to approach the fence. Her favorite first potty spot was 6 feet off the patio. Then she ventured to the back fence, but only straight out, then out to the sides a few feet. Local dogs barking first got her scurrying for me, but now she's a combination of barking and trying to figure out who that voice belongs to. The neighbors' lot lines do not match ours, so we have two back-door neighbors. The one on the east has a large furry dog residing inside its own fence feet inside the yard boundaries. My first thought when I saw it was St. Bernard, but it's smaller and only black and white. It always barked at us when we came out, not recognizing that we were here first. As if! With Heather here, when it was let out it first barked and she cowered. Eventually she figured out she was safe here, and barked back just a bit. That of course was accompanied by scent marking (I didn't realize females did that too) and using her back feet to kick up and cover... well, whatever you can do with cemented rocks in place. Instincts don't care about the picky details.

Today there were two new behaviors which assured me she is feeling this is her home.  For a bit, she and the big dog declared peace, and it whined a few times while trying to get closer to her despite the separated fences. She was perkily attentive on her side of the fence, looking ready to play if such a miracle could happen. Later this afternoon, she decided to chase two rabbits out of the yard, in two separate directions. Now this is my kind of dog!

She apparently has finally decided she is also Rich's dog and Steve's dog. Or do I have that wrong, and they are her persons? It does seem one at a time, although usually just when she is denied access to me, like right now with  my lap full of laptop. Yesterday, when I was unavailable, she hopped up in Steve's chair for an hour or so of petting. When he left for a nap shutting his door, she paced up and down the hall a few times waiting for him to relent and let her in. (That won't happen because he keeps food in there.) I was the afterthought for a person to snuggle with then, even though I was finally accessible.

Later that afternoon Rich needed a ride. He got to hold her (leashed) in his lap for the ride. She wanted me for about the first two seconds in the driveway, then settled in to him. At our destination, Rich handed me the leash and stepped out, crossing in front of the car and further left to where he was going. As soon as he started moving, she wedged herself behind my back, forcing herself forward so her nose rested on the window ledge, looking for  him to return. Now this left me pretty immobile between her and the steering wheel, which made it very interesting when I had to rearrange my shirt bottom to reach my phone under my seat belt (still fastened) in my jeans pocket when it rang! There was no way the nearest hand to my phone was going to let go of that leash, after all. The second Rich was back on the right side of the car, she was gone back to his side. 

Breathe....

Updates From Last Two Posts

First, voting. Our ballots went out in the mail last Saturday. Arizona has a "where's my ballot?" site connected with the Recorder's office. It sucks. It keeps telling you to "pick one" of a list of four identifiers, last 4 of your SS number, voter Id number, state Id number, or drivers license number. When I get that far in my information, my voter Id number fills itself in. I always get bounced back to that section. I tried deleting that one, adding each of the others in turn, (I almost know my DL by now!), and still got bounced.

Aaaarrrrrgggghhhhh!

I gave up for a while, then went back and googled for another option. What I found was simple and functional, informing me in a couple seconds that my ballot was mailed on this date, received on that date, had the signature verified, and has been counted! Whew! Bookmarked that one for my computer for 2022. I also emailed that site to both of my guys and a few friends.

Now for the dog. Heather is definitely a lap dog. My lap. She has decided I am her person. She sleeps on my bed, follows me everywhere, jumps into my lap either by invitation or on her own, though she recognizes "No!" and "Down!" quickly. Mostly those happen when I'm on the laptop or eating. If I'm unavailable for a brief time, the couch works for her. If it's a long time, she'll check if Steve has a lap available, so long as he's in the living room. She'll follow whoever is moving around to see if there's some attention forthcoming, but as soon as I move, she's right there.

Out in the yard, she doesn't go far away. She has yet to explore out to the limits of the fence, mostly, I suspect, since I rarely head out wandering the yard myself. That will change real soon, since temperatures are supposedly about to stay under 100 after today, and I'll be out working on planting some baby agaves in the back yard. There's also a need to remove some dead ones (!!) from this summer's record heat sans rain, but that's another story. Those particular buggers are very spiny, lots of reverse curve along every leaf edge so hard to handle, and being dead means leaves are lying separated around the yard. Rabbits? A solution will arise... eventually. They were a lovely shade of light blue, and cut off a neighbor's offshoots and given away free. My perfect kind of planting. Four survived initial planting. but now we're down to two plus a "maybe."

I considered starting the planting this morning, but the tools have only just been located and it's already getting a bit hot for hard work. Besides, this morning is Heather's free well-visit with a vet, one of many who coordinate with the county shelter for post adoption checkups. I also need flea control, have a couple questions about other things, and presume actual money will be spent at the time. Good for the vet. When I contacted this vet, I was informed that I should call them once I'm in the parking lot, then wait in the car until they had an open exam room for us, so they can keep their lobby clear of multiple customers. Sounds good to me, and now their number is in my phone.

Transferring her microchip info is another animal. I contacted the company her chip is registered with, and talked to a lovely woman working with transfers out of her home. In Canada. That turned into quite the conversation, which we had time for because her computer kept freezing up. Apparently Heather started life "way up north", as Lena stated, sounding amazed she'd wound up in AZ. I reminded her that lots of people come down here to snowbird, retire, even to die, any of which might lead to a chipped dog being unclaimed. Border closings might further complicate things, leading our conversation to turn to the virus and a brief acknowledgment of political complications. From there we dipped into the issue of homelessness. She commented that she knew the problem needed solving, but that she wasn't sure if everyone "deserved" helping, that for some it was their own fault. I returned with, "It may or may not be 'fault', but it certainly was 'fact'. She liked that way of thinking about it. 

By this time her computer wasn't about to be helpful, so she gave me an email address, and requirements for making the transfer, including a picture of the dog. Let's see, either she'll be a round black ball of sleeping dog or a prancing - thus blurry - black silhouette with a few white bits. Hmmmmmm.... We'll work on that.

 Then there's the need for an emissions test for the car, so long as I'm out and about, and it's that time again. Long ago I heard that emissions tests are best done on a warm car, so best to drive somewhere else first. The vet stop seems ideal, and the emissions location is right near a Wendy's for my favorite salad and maybe burgers for the guys. I think we've got us a plan, eh? Time to get busy.

Let Me Introduce You To... Heather!

Confused yet?

Does it help if I let you know we just (finally!!!) adopted a dog? And oh, was it a struggle.

We found the county adoption website, which doubles as where strays are turned in. After getting mildly excited about three different options, all small varieties, we signed up for a mandatory appointment and drove in to south Phoenix. Dog 1? 2? 3? All not adoptable, still needing training, already gone, and other reasons. But we could look around. 

What they had was a small-dog building full of ... other peoples' dogs. Either they were already adopted and waiting for, say, neutering, or they were strays waiting for their previous owners to have a chance to claim them. We returned to the front desk to inquire of the staff how could we actually find an adoptable dog. He gave us a 10 minute lesson on policies, and codes in the animal description page which gave us clues as to any dog's real status. Plus, you know, first come first served, etc. No reserving a dog until you could actually drive the 40 minutes to get there.

Discouraged, once home I started searching for dogs for sale in our size range. The prices didn't even stop at $3 grand! Yikes! Now we're even more discouraged!

We agreed to make a couple first-time-slot-in-the-day reservations, one Thursday, one Saturday.  Meanwhile we'd pour over the county dogs with more enlightened eyes. 

This morning 8 more small dogs appeared on the site. Two were actually shih tzus, so I hit the phone. Nope, already had owners pending even as they came on the site. Somehow it seemed that previous clients of the shelter could actually put in request reservations for certain dogs. Like shih tzus, of course. Just before lunchtime, a wheat terrier came up on the site. Cute little dickens, a bit shy but friendly. Jotting down a couple more ID numbers for dogs that were "possibles", I made a reservation for driving time plus 10, and hopped in the car. Steve declined to come along this time. Yesterday's walking had done him in. I asked did he trust me to choose, and he said yes, adding which of the three was his least favorite.

No problem there, as.despite what we could glean off the website, it wasn't to be fit for adoption for another week or more. You also have to know, considering how this had been going, that the wheat terrier pranced out of the doors on his leash with his happy new owners just as I pulled in to park. The third choice was Heather.

I arranged a meet-and-greet, and while initially shy, she wound up in my lap. Plus she was a quarter of the price we were quoted for small dogs yesterday. BONUS!

She is approximately 11 pounds of hug-seeking chihuahua, 8 years old, and brought in as a stray. Although already microchipped, her previous owner didn't claim her back. She's nearly all black, white single hairs on legs and white toes on three feet, with a muzzle also starting to whiten. She's had some training, and we'll be finding out how much as we go. She'll come to me, can even jump up into my chair over its arm with an invitation, and nudge for a scratch or a pet. (I even got a kiss!) While she sat on Steve's lap after we put her up there, and she got all kinds of loving from him, she's leery about jumping way up into the noisy chair. Rich is currently introducing her to his mess in the lanai, and we're all still waiting till she decides to avail herself of the backyard potty. Maybe not enough dog scent is left out there.

She's way better at finding crumbs on the floor than we are. Another bonus, especially after this morning when my bare feet found a bunch of very crunchy ones along my path to my chair: ouch hop ouch hop ouch hop hop.

As for the name, our initial thought was to change it. Various terms circulated. Then again, for now we just may keep it. After all, Rich calls me "Mom" and Steve mostly uses endearments, so not too confusing yet. We'll see though.

Steve has canceled Thursday's and Saturday's appointments to go back there. We've got our new family.

Voted! And Now... A Story About A Dog

We all three have. Rich also signed up to be on the permanent early voter list, so all our ballots arrived in the mail yesterday. Thanks to information from our favorite political party, passed along from a friend who's active with them, we even knew quickly which judges were not "in need" of another term on the bench. And just in case you wondered, nobody claimed to have used their secret ballot for tRump.

It was quick, it was easy, and all three await on the clip outside the door for our mailman to pick up. I even added a stamp to each - though I didn't really have to, but now they have to be treated as first class mail, despite any ongoing shenanigans proposed by DeJoy. I had planned to drop them off at a nearby drop box, but that doesn't open until late in the month, and stuff can happen. You know, the dog could have eaten it by then. If we had one.

We've been trying. Unless you want a chihuahua or a pit bull, (NO!) they are awfully hard to come by these days. You need to make an appointment to enter any of the shelters that haven't been closed down by the pandemic. It starts by finding shelters online, then perusing their pictures and descriptions to find what you think you might want. That done, you need to fill out a slew of paperwork online, and heaven help you if any glitch occurs between your software and theirs. For example, one form wants you to check some boxes but nothing will go in them, and while you are trying the box disappears. I can't type a box back onto the form, so....

On another shelter's form, they asked for loads of information on every pet you've ever had. Both of you in our case. You can't just tell them you've had a score of cats who've sometimes had kittens, but have to give information on every single animal and then swear at the bottom that everything's honest on the form. We've both had a score of dogs, filling most of our lives. I've also had snakes, dogs, a turtle, hamster, a white rat, a guinea pig, and lots of mice I raised up to feed the snakes. ("And how did they die, eh?") Those rabbits in their hutches didn't count because they were delicious, so never mind adding them to the list. There was no possible way I was going to describe a fish room full of tropicals we were breeding or ponds of koi and goldfish, not to mention the frogs that hopped in for some fun. And while you could select that you gave pets away to a friend, sold it, or whatever, there was no box to select for the fall pond cleanout where the frogs got dumped in a local lake before freeze-up. Of course, that was only after that first year when the next spring we found some had crawled back in from swampy areas just down the block before our pond froze and were only found after pond thaw as piles of grey slime and bones. The next years they were "rehomed"  - current jargon - further away. Imagine explaining that on one of those forms!

How about those yard toads we made homes for around and in our gardens, but much too often were found by the lawnmower?

Like that should disqualify us to have a dog!

By the time I got through as much information on that form as I could tolerate, and moved on to some final details,  just before I got to the end, the whole screen vanished! I was trying to actually move the cursor to the next and final "submit" page link but was still over an inch away and...poof!

How much you want to bet I was willing to repeat that process?

One other thing I am finding down here these days is a requirement for a home evaluation. Yikes! What have they been running into and what do they expect? All the messes are put away? (Like that will ever happen!) Proof of our chain link fence? No kennel with 54 more dogs and a puppy mill? No doggie graveyard? No dog-fighting ring?

Finally, even if we find a dog we like, submit the paperwork, and "pass" a home evaluation, our application goes in a pile of others for that same animal, and somebody decides who gets it. If that dog is gone, a whole new process starts, because each application is geared to a particular animal.

Oy!

Anybody remember the good old days when you could walk into a store or shelter, look around, pet the animals to see if they were friendly and get information on how big they'd get and how much exercise they'd need, and walk out with the dog of choice? Or somebody would set up on a corner with a box of pups and be glad they got homes? Or a coworker had a dog they "had" to get rid of because of a move or another baby or whatever? Or a stray ran into your yard and stayed, unclaimed?

Sigh......

Meanwhile we only dream of a little small, non-shedding pooch, preferably mutt style, who wants to love us as much as we want to love him/her.  Housebroken is a plus, but we know how to kennel train. I still have the equipment to groom one. And we can locate a vet, actually pass one on the way to a friend's house. If you know of one.... I could drive a few days....

Open Letter To tRump

to President* tRump:

I heard you got your wish, what you've long been courting: the coronavirus. I just want you to know I do not want you to die of it. (Hear that, Secret Service?) Instead, I hope you are as miserable as possible for as long as possible from it without dying, so you can fully realize that you will never have a second term besmirching this country, and so, on January 22, 2021, spend the rest of your miserable pointless life in prison! Perhaps you can be kept company by all those crooks who happily enabled you in your many crimes while lining their own pockets illegally.

As far as my wishes for Melania, I yield to her inspiration to the country: "I Don't Care, Do You?"

Sincerely...

Really, sincerely!

Oh, and for any of you Secret Service reading this? (Yeah, as if I'm that popular...) I sincerely regret that you have to work for this turd stain who makes your lives so unsafe by exposing you to the virus. I hope those of you who have caught it are recovering nicely, that those of you who don't wish to catch it can find better jobs elsewhere, and all of you recover from the threats to your sanity from having worked for this piece of work.

Taking A Moment

The news - if it is actually news, since who can tell? - greeting us as we first connect with media is that both Trump and Melania have tested positive for coronavirus.

Why the questions? Start with 22,000 lies, including those from the White House doctor, garnish with a major roll out of right wing political messaging, sprinkle with a dash of likely debate avoidance, and smother with all the unfavorable poll numbers and his inability to hear any bad news about himself.  Consider also the timing of the release of an audio clip of our First Lady saying "F**k Christmas and F**k those kids in cages.

What is known is that Hope Hicks is ill with it and while at her most contagious shared a flight on Air Force 1 with Trump and company. All maskless, of course.

The country is again split, one half in disbelief and the other crying for Dear Leader. As one who's waiting for definitive news, if it is true, let me just say that Karma's a bitch.

Are bitches all bad?