24 September 2007

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...

BBH2007 005

21 September 2007


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.

19 September 2007

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!

13 September 2007

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.

12 September 2007

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.

06 September 2007

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.

Music Monday: Still Unwritten

This has been a weird couple of days, culminating in Music Monday almost being forgotten. Last Thursday I went to my appointment with "...