Splish splash...

Wish I was still there...I'm just so happy that my Hunky Man got to get in the ocean. He loves it...until it hits us both in the heiney and we have to run back to shore...

Unimpressed

Daisy, at a reading from "her" book, Proud Racer: Half Crazy...

Hello from Myrtle Beach, Finally!!

Simon and I left Greenville yesterday around 11:30. The plan was to leave at O. Dark. Thirty, but when the alarm went off my "vacation head" took over and I just turned it off. We only had to repack the car once, thank goodness!

The trip was un-eventful until we actually got to Myrtle Beach. Let me rephrase that...when we got to North Myrtle Beach, a town in it's own right, and not the NORTHERN part of Myrtle Beach which is where Beach Bound Hounds actually is happening. We drove all over North MB until finally I called Leah and she directed us back toward the hotel.

Thursday night we left Daisy with a babysitter and H and J in our room and went out to eat. Lemme clue you in...after a long day in the car, a dinner of a foot long hotdog covered with french fries, chili, and two kinds of cheese is not always the best option.

This morning we got up and headed to the state park for the day at the beach. Hunky LOVED the water and he and Simon had a good time. Daisy didn't like the water, and she backed up as fast as she'd run towards it when the tide came in.

We ate lunch, we hung out, and my book reading was a lovely intimate affair with only a few die hards staying at the state park till 4pm to hear me.

I'm uploading pictures to my Flickr album so please check there for more! I've only just gotten on the internet tonight, and we're about to rush out to Barefoot Landing for dinner and a stroll about.

Are we there yet?

I think the dogs know something is up. I mean, they've known that for about five days now because Simon is here, but I think they are learning the word "beach" means that we are taking a trip. Well, at least H and J know that. Daisy joined our family at the beach last March so she most likely has not made that connection yet.

I can't wait to see Hunky in the water again! It's been way too long. For those of you reading this blog because you couldn't make it to BBH, I hope that it will help you feel like you're there!

A New Level of Professional...

...when you are sitting behind a microphone, voicing a presentation for a deaf mental health professional who is presenting to other mental health and random social services professional peers, and suddenly "Rehab" by Amy Winehouse is playing in your pocket because the button that you hit to keep your phone on mute was clearly, in fact, the volume button that cranked it up to VERY VERY LOUD. Have mercy.

Things that don't help insomnia.

1. Mosquitos that appear in your house and disappear into thin air just before you swat them.

2. Spiders that saunter down your couch cushions while your cat watches, doing nothing.

3. Finding evidence of rodents in the bowl you popped into the sink while finishing an online class.

I swear, it's like the universe picked one of my most hormonal days to spring everything that creeps me out on me and land it all in my house. There isn't a bit of me that isn't itching with crawly skin right now, and I while I know it's just fatigue and stress and the fact that it's 1:00 in the morning but keep seeing things out of the corner of my eye on the walls, floor, and my legs. Oh, and don't forget checking the cabinets, counters, and behind the stove (where I found more evidence where the baseboard is removed from the wall of said rodents).

I think it may just be time for some Tylenol PM.

Helpful Reminder

And just as I'm sitting here winding myself up, thinking about how much I hate this or resent that or am tired of these...Daisy quietly enters the room and rests her chin on my hand and shyly casts her gorgeous brown eyes up at me. She sighs quietly but doesn't move. Just like Profile used to do...

Y'all excuse me. I have a tennis ball to toss and a life to enjoy living.

They're my dogs, thank you very much!

This is mostly a rant, but I think that it extends beyond the individual circumstance and encompasses who I am and the way I live my life. I don't like being told what to do.

Those that know me, stop laughing. Seriously. You're getting stares.

It goes further than that, though. I don't tell others what to do (Susan, hush) and I don't like it when one person/group/agency/whatever tries to tell another what to do. Makes me uncomfortable. Hey, maybe that's why I'm sometimes uncomfortable in church! Oh but that's another blog for another day...

Anyway, I was on one of my greyhound message boards recently and came across a post talking about a "stupid" person who had left a dog in a car. Granted, I might think worse things than just "stupid" about a person who left a dog in their car in this weather, considering I moved off the surface of the sun (Montgomery) to a side of the sun (Greenville) and have yet to see a day where the temp is 88F or below. What bothered me, though was how FAST others on that board were jumping on the bandwagon, offering suggestions about phoning the police or trying to get the poor dog out of the car. I'm all for animal welfare, don't get me wrong, but I'm also all for my own welfare. Who is going to feed my dogs if the 300lb muscle man that owns the car I'm so thoughtfully rescuing Fluffy from comes along, sees what I'm doing, and beats me to a pulp?

I recalled in my post how I went to the grocery store once during the colder months and left the dogs in the car for about five minutes or so while running in to get something FOR THEM. I returned to find a note on my car that said "Shame on you for leave dogs in hot car."

Seriously, if you're not going to be brave enough to stay around and confront me for leaving my dogs to warm up a car when it's COLD outside, at LEAST learn to use proper grammar. I don't want to have to put forth the effort to translate your sad attempt at chastising me into proper English before I crumple it and throw it in a bin. Further, if English is not your first language, write it in your first language. Then I can have the nerdish joy of translating your note before I crumple it and toss it in said bin. At least my mind will have been stimulated along the way.

I then went on to say that I didn't agree with the poster that stated that things come up and you may get stuck in the store longer than is safe for your dogs to stay in the car. I'm sorry, unless you've got me hand-cuffed or hog-tied, if it comes time to go back to my dogs and I'm not done in the store...well...I'm done in the store. If what you are doing in the store is so much more important than paying attention to how long your dogs have been in the car, perhaps you should have gone home before stopping. People who have been to my house or been anywhere with me and my dogs can tell you that I am always aware of where they are and what they are doing. Sometimes I think that the world would be better if parents of human children kept tabs on them the way I do on my dogs, but again, another blog post for another day.

I guess I'm different, but I feel like my dogs are my responsibility. That means knowing where they are and what they are doing at all times. Not really hard if you love your animals and want what's best for them, especially for families with single pets. I have four, and I can tell you as I'm typing this that two are on the dog beds and/or sofa in the den, one is on the futon in the rec room, and the cat is under my comforter hiding from the GE repair man that left four hours ago. Not tough.

I hear it all the time...people who clearly know better than I do telling me what to do with/for/about my dogs. The man at Publix comes to mind that told me I was killing my dogs by feeding them a raw diet. Until you live in my head and my house, you can't know what is best for me and my furry family and I simply won't tolerate you repeatedly telling me that you do. I don't care how many greyhounds you've found homes for or that you know the inner workings of a dog's GI tract OR that you graduated from X, Y, or Z with a degree in WHATEVER. Unless you know me and my dogs and respect how I take care of them as well as how I live my life, you can bet on the grain of salt that will be accompanying your advice in my mind.

Wow. I feel better.

Soon and Very Soon...(as borrowed from ebeth)

Just under a month until I'm...





Get your own cool name here.

Over one million insomniac minutes served...

When you purchase your allergy medicine and you decide on the store brand because it is a bit cheaper than the real thing, please make sure that it's not the kind that dissolve in your mouth NOR the 24 hour non-drowsy kind. I mean come on, 24 hours of non-drowsiness?

I've had insomnia something AWFUL off and on for about two weeks now. Not so much while I was in San Francisco but I think that I was just exhausted then. But just before I left and now that I'm back I don't even get TIRED (with or without a nap, doesn't seem to matter) before 11:30pm and lately haven't been falling asleep before 1am. That doesn't work so well when one has to be up at 6:45am the next morning.

So as I'm about to pop my allergy pill in my mouth I notice that the box says something about dissolving...pop pill, drink water, turn over box. Oh, look at that. Fast dissolving, non-drowsy, something about 24 hour relief. Hmmm. Here's hoping it will do what all the other "non-drowsy" antihistamines do and zonk me out...but so far no good.

Ugh. I guess I could do my dishes.

Three years old and the light bulb hasn't switched on just yet...

Today the Leelos (Daisy's litter)turn three years old, and yet my Daisy is still very much a puppy...God help me. Their birthdate on Greyhound Data is 8/14, but I remember it to be the 12th because I was among the folks on GreyTalk "watching" them be born.

wmlcml6 Posted: Aug 12 2004, 09:37 AM
"Baby Daisy has arrived. 9:37 am EST!!!! Leelo is a fantastic mom so far. I think she is a fawn, but is kind of wet and dark right now."

So happy third birthday to my beautiful and perfect Puppy-Girl who will always be my puppy girl, no matter how old she gets...my Daisy Mae Mae...



Happy birthday to Casey and Bonnie...to Angel Sophie Sox...to the ever handsome Dodger Long Legs...to Hallie Jalepeno, the firecracker mountain goat...and of course, Windy-Bear, the first of the LBs to discover what retirement is like...

Daisy, I'm so glad you were born and even more glad that you're mine. If the rain stops today we might go take a little walk downtown later. If not, we'll snuggle on the couch and watch movies and I'll tell you over and over how much I adore you, just so you won't forget.




Happy birthday, my precious PuppyGirl...
love, Mommy

On Families and Over-reacting

I've been thinking a lot in the past few days about what the word family means. I've spent a lot of time with my family and have come to several realizations.

You may not be in the same geographical area with your family, but you are still a part of it. My cousin Carol made that point quite well when she spoke at my aunt's funeral. One thing my aunt loved were children, and since she didn't have any of her own she more or less "adopted" me and my sister and our seven cousins. We weren't always right there with her, but she never forgot a birthday or an anniversary. She made arrangements to attend plays, musical recitals, and other important events. I would imagine that it means even more now to my sister that she was at Susan's ordination as a minister.

I'm not sure which stage of grief I'm in at the moment, really. I think it's anger. I have some very clear opinions about the series of events leading to my aunt's death, and while I won't stoop to the level of some and point fingers I will say that I think had one particular thing not happened my aunt would still be with us. Am I delusional with grief? Possibly, but I don't think so. Am I looking for a scapegoat? Possibly, but I don't have to look very far.

I have to hold to my belief that what goes around comes around, and that the deeds that may have hastened my aunt's death if not caused it outright will be rewarded in kind. It's funny, my sister and I differ on this...while she is able to hold her composure in check and never stoop to their level, I'm staring people down at the funeral and just waiting for my chance to express how I'm feeling. (ex: I told my mother that if a certain person said boo to me, "it's on.")

What has become apparent is that I have neglected my family. One of my father's sisters actually said to me that she thought I was a stranger to them. While that might be a bit of an exaggeration, it holds some truth. I've been told in the past few days that I over-react to things that happen to me and maybe that's true, but I react to things following how I feel. While that particular person can't possibly know how much my aunt meant to me and how tough this past week has been, he has let me know how I come across to others, and that's what I need to keep in check.

Man. What a week.

I know a woman

I know a woman who was as tall as a tree, or at least seemed that way to me when I was a little girl.

I know a woman who knew everything there was to know in all the books in the world, because she worked with CURRICULUM, or at least that's how it seemed when I was a little girl.

I know a woman who loved children, even children who did bad things like take the batteries out of her clocks or not eat all their green beans or talk during the church services at camp meeting, not that I ever did any of that when I was a little girl.

I know a woman who was devoted to her family, especially her little brother, and who was an example to all those that knew her of what faith was and meant.

I know a woman who was a breast cancer survivor.

She was the same woman that let me walk behind her while she picked beans out of the garden, feeding me one or two raw because I wanted to know what they tasted like without cooking. She was the same woman that made me purple cows to drink (Welch's grape juice and milk with a dash of vanilla ice cream, don't knock it till you've tried it!), and always remembered that I was the one that liked apple pie while my sister was the one that liked pumpkin pie.

I know a woman who had strong hands that would gently hold my tiny little girl's fingers in hers. I remember tracing the outline of the logo on her signet ring, and thinking when I got my own Maryville College ring that it made my hands look a lot like hers...only not so strong.

I know a woman that was stubborn, independent, and is now free. She's free of a body that wasn't working as it should. She's free of worry. She's free of pain.

I knew a woman, and she was my father's sister, my grandmother's daughter, my mother's sister-in-law, and my aunt. I love you, Aunt Inez and while my heart is breaking for losing you it is also singing that I got the chance to know you, learn from you, and be loved by you.

It's just turned dark here in San Francisco, so I'll look for your new star in the night sky.

This is for Katy.

-Registration was a breeze. Pre-registration is the way to go.

-I clearly need someone to look after me when it comes to arriving at the airport on time. Larry the Cable Guy that I sat next to on the way to San Antonio (after arriving at GSP at O Dark Thirty) was nothing compared to the poor folks that have to work at Hartsfield and deal with shmucks like me that arrive at baggage check two minutes after their plane is done accepting checked baggage.

-I made it to the opening ceremony, and saw everything from the Village People to men in drag SIGNING Dude Looks Like a Lady. Top drawer, foh-sho.

-It has been ten years since my first RID conference. I think I'm now easing into the category of interpreters with salt and pepper on their heads. (think of that one in ASL, it will make more sense)

-I miss my roommate. It's not the same. Think Kurt will send ME roses this year? :)


Just kidding, I'd be totally mortified if he did. :D Simon, on the other hand...doesn't read my blog. Anyway...

I have NO idea what time it is...my watch and laptop say that it's 12:34 am. My blackberry says that it's 9:34 pm. The part of my brain that lives in Yorkshire says that it's 5:34 am tomorrow morning...but I'm not sure what day that is, really.

It's going to be a good conference, and I'm sure that my workshop will be fine.

This is for Katy.

Philly in 2009, baby!!!

Poetic...License?

Twas the night before conference and all through the manse
Not a human was stirring, they all seemed in a trance.
While Davey snoozing on the four poster bed,
Our Susan had visions of Days in her head.
My case was all opened, it covered the floor!
My laptop a humming, plugged in near the door,
I sat on the bed, wishing dearly for sleep
But it came not, not even after I'd counted sheep.

Why was I nervous? What could be the matter?
I'd spring from my bed, but that would cause a clatter.
So I'll sit here and surf, the internet awaits
Till my alarm sounds in five hours, the sound that I hates!


Yeah, why am I still awake, and further, writing bad poetry? 8 hours from now I'll be on a plane, headed for San Francisco to the RID, Inc conference where I'll be with people like me...people that get me...people that live the double life I lead as an interpreter...and I'll have to stand up in front of them and give a presentation when my mind is still in Georgia, Alabama, and South Carolina...with my aunt, my dogs, and my new job, rather than focused on Interpreting for Deaf Professionals in Clinical Settings. As Liz says from time to time, Oh, the GLAMOUR!

Maybe if I had this curling iron masquerading as a laptop off my legs I could actually get some sleep...Next post from San Fran!

(or at least from the airport...)