let us recap...shall we?

3:06am:  i hear Fat-Pat-the-Androgynous-Cat digging at the carpet under my bedroom door.  probably, her lard ass has eaten all of the food in the house, sampled a few non-food items and dammit she's not full.  i launch a roll of tissue missile-like at the door to scare her, where it lands after a quite-a-bit-less-than-spectacular *whuf* against the wall next to the door.  yea, i kinda rock my own world like that.  the ever-vigilant Winston goes on full alert and stands guard at the door, refusing get back to his bed.

3:08am: lights out, pillows in place, t-shirt over my face, all is right in my world.

3:08:15am: *scratch scratch*  fuck me.

3:19am:  i give up trying to sleep - it's hopeless due to images in my brain consisting of various methods in which to kill each one of my animals.  by now i'm stressed and pissed...sleep is not a viable option.  lights on, kindle out, glasses found - reading commences.

4:22am:  *YAWN*  sweet sleep is within reach...lights out, pillows in place...blah, blah, blah.

4:31am:  fuck it - laying here is stupid, i have things to do...i can always take a nap.  lights on...first things first; start coffee.  check email.  squirrel, even though i promised myself i was only checking my email.  read about something political and start to get stressed again...move on to frontierville.  sweet, brainless frontierville. algebraic equation of the day:  "coffee + sleeping children + frontierville = temporary sanity".

5:03am: i find myself in my closet wondering who the fuck bought all these clothes 2 sizes too small, i have nothing to wear.  screw it - i love my jams.  hey, while i'm in here...

5:27am: closet purged a bit - starting to wake up.  gonna start some laundry.  follow me here, this gets tricky:  having gathered a massive pile of things that need washing and balanced my coffee cup on top, using my teeth to hold it in place, i open my door and call to Winston to get his lazy ass off the bed...we're heading out.  he's rather exasperated with me...he must be - he looks at me with his "are you serious right now?  it's still dark outside and i just got comfy...are we going out and staying out this time, because this back and forth shit is for the birds.  make up your mind and COMMIT, woman" face.  a few more coaxing gestures and he resignedly drags his ass out from under his soft yellow (read: pussy girl) blanket, stands in the middle of the hallway (balanced equidistant between all bedrooms containing sleeping [read: QUIET] children) and does the world's most annoying shake known to man.  dog tags on a shaking dog make the most infuriating sound when your temporary sanity is being permanently threatened.

5:28am:  something falls from the laundry pile in my hands - of course.  i can't tell what it is - i'll grab it with my toes and kick/carry it to the laundry room.  still balancing my coffee, mind you.  i hit where the carpet meets tile in the entryway and feel what must be a 4 inch long rusty heroin needle (known in some circles as a carpet tack) drive through the heel of my right, probably-panty-or-sock-carrying, foot.  mutherfucker, i *HAAAAATE* that. i grab the coffee with a hand to keep from spilling it as i hop on one foot, hoping with very little hope that i don't bleed out right there where my children will find me buried under a heap of dirty laundry (which could take days...jus'sayin - my kids sure as hell steer damn clear of touching any form of dirty laundry).

5:28:52am:  and then more clothes fall to the floor.  blood pressure spike is definitely in the immediate forecast.

5:29am (time is approximate due to a temporary blackout):  the fucking PSYCHO orange cat has ONCE AGAIN pushed over the self-watering container in her attempt to "catch" the bubbles that appear in the jug as she drinks the water.  have i ever mentioned how my kitchen floor turns into a freaking sheet of ice with just one drop of water?  yea, well...jeebus, mark and christopher, my life is such a fucking joke.  the momentary lapse of consciousness comes from my head hitting the floor, as clothes and coffee spew into a roughly 5 foot radius before me.

5:35am (again with the time approximation): i laugh/cry/wimper/snort my way to my feet, gather the laundry - resourcefully using a dirty towel to mop up coffee - and make my way to the laundry room without further incident...which is truly amazing at this point given that it was a whole 3 feet away.

7:01am:  the chitlins have stirred without being shaken and i feel better having, once again, shared the ridiculousness of this moment in time in the Easy Life, and then eaten half of a bottle of aleve.  for the record - yes, i did consider the half-full bottle of wine sitting on my counter as my pain-reliever of choice, but figured with this kind of start, probably i will have an even stronger need for that in a few hours.

martinez-out, bitches.

more pics

uhm...possibly slightly inebriated.  don't really remember.

only the world's sweetest baby...lennie oden o'reilly.

news at 11: amazon woman chokes ass-dog at redding's sundial bridge.

you are just lucky he's tired right now.

winston is such a dick.

don't get me wrong...i love him with all the heart, but he's got an attitude the size of texas.

ok, so he's a little dude with a little dude complex. he despises the cats, but only shows it when they turn their backs. he growls at the birds when they squawk, but at a safe distance of 5 feet. he mad mugs buddy from 'his' side of the glass door, but curls his tail and cowers in fear when he's outside with him. he's a dick - plain and simple.

he and big bit (also known as fat-pat-the-androgynous-cat) have a love/hate thing going on...she loves to fuck with him and he hates the fact that she wastes oxygen by breathing it. she is always close by wherever he is...he watches her from the corner of his eye, constantly wary. when she gets up to move, he gets all bad-ass and lunges at her; stopping short, of course, of actually reaching her. she, being the smartass 'ho that she is, will often turn at the last possible second and lunge back...resulting in a shocked yelp from him, a i-will-fuck-you-up hiss from her and then the chase begins. usually her after him, but sometimes he 'nads up and gets her running. this is all cute and silly unless it happens to be 3am and they are laying on the bed with me.

he gets all shitty when something like a cat or a bird or another dog happens to even glance at his food dish. he races to it and stands there with his face buried in the bowl until the threat passes. keep in mind that the food that is in the bowl wasn't even mildly interesting to him 3 seconds ago, but now it's suddenly manna from Heaven. the food dish happens to sit next to the water dish, which everyone shares...God forbid a cat want a drink when there is food in winston's dish. after the threat is removed, he again wanders away from the bowl and returns to his couldn't-give-a-shit-about-that-crap-you-tell-me-is-food attitude, while sitting "pretty" for a bite of my fruity pebbles.

the birds really freak him out. cause they're LOUD. disturbing kind of loud, bleeding from the ears loud, especially when someone has flown the coop (and is running in circles on the floor trying to figure out how they went from their nice cozy home base to another planet in 2 seconds - good GAWD don't run past his food bowl, you idiot!) and they are tattling on them. sometimes larry bursts into his 'mockingbird' rendition of somewhere over the rainbow and the crowd goes wild...but i digress. winston will sometimes growl at them, but he generally keeps his distance. until i wheel their cage outside. as they are moving AWAY from him and out the door, he starts giving them the what-for about how lucky they are they he allows them to live...dancing around, barking at them and telling them to just get the fuck out.

then there's the car. winston LOVES to ride in the car. he's a little intense - leaping back and forth from window to window making sure he doesn't miss anything. will sometimes bark fiercely at particularly loud vehicle - of course he waits until it is almost PAST us before he starts talking shit. he growls at other dogs as we pass, letting them know that he IS a badass motherfucker and it's a good thing they are out there and not in here. cause...you know. "i could fuck you up. probably i wouldn't do it, cause that's not really how i roll...but i could if i wanted to. so just consider yourself lucky is all i'm sayin'." he also navigates quite divinely. he will perch by one of my shoulders (still vigilant of course, constantly looking around making sure he's detected all signs of danger and quashed them) to make sure i'm going in the right direction. he sometimes leans left or right, depending on where i should turn. he's only gotten us lost a few times and those were NOT his fault. he couldn't do two things at once, i guess and probably was off tending to some particularly nasty danger when i stupidly made a wrong turn.

but more annoying than being in the car with winston is getting to the car at all. he knows the signs; he hears the keys jingle, he sees the purse go over the shoulder, he knows which hat is for driving...he's verrrrrry observant. now, he does know to sit and wait to be invited to go and it's tough on him. one day he will probably have a heart attack from just that strain alone. he is pretty good about staying when i tell him to and when i give him the let's go, he unfailingly peels out, taking a full 5 seconds to even find traction as he races out the door. i generally open the back car door for him and he usually makes it in on the first jump...he has been known to ram into an unexpected backpack or kid that happens to be in the way, and when this happens he hits so hard he actually seems to hover midair before falling onto the concrete. he scrambles to get upright, shakes it off and does it again.

when i DON'T want him to go and i'm already outside, having given the stay order, and a kid comes out to get in the car, he takes full advantage of what he must consider to be the 'simple' ones, by barrelling past them and leaping into the car. sometimes i let this pass, but rarely because it just pisses me off. getting him out of the car at this point is a real bitch. he will get as far away from me as possible (uhh...it's a suburban, i've lost kids in there), and i generally have to climb in and drag the little fucker out.

this morning (wow...took me awhile to get here, LOL!) the girl and i head out to go to school, winston gets to go and is, in fact, already in the car when my neighbor comes out and suggests he take brynn because he's taking his daughter and might as well, right? cool...save me a trip i can get started on my chores. well, winston doesn't buy it...he's sure i am once again reneging and just trying to get him out of the car so i can leave without him. so over to the other side of the car he goes, telling me "you go to hell, you promised me a ride and i. am. NOT. getting out!" my hands are full of shit like coffee, keys, purse, paper whatever, and i can't drag him out, so i just slammed the car door, and went into the house. i waited a couple of minutes, put my keys and my purse away and went back out...i see him standing in my seat, paws on the wheel, ready to drive if he has to, gawd dammit and as soon as he sees me he scrambles to the far left back of the car. OH-EM-GEE he's a fart. i ended up leaving him in the car for about 30 minutes, after which he happily agreed to get out in exchange for a big dog biscuit...

it's a really big biscuit which he can't eat - it's too big and i gave it to him just to fuck with him. before you go all whiney and call PETA on me, know this: he is perfectly happy guarding it with his life against any and all domestic and/or global terrorist attacks that may occur, even though he can't enjoy it himself. so see? i gave him a PURPOSE. my work here is done.

here we go again...

i was asked by ms b and her dad about the possibility of adopting another pup and the one sentence i did utter was: "maybe i'll think consider it, if it was house-trained and if it was a girl pup." the one thing i didn't say was: "no."

after a lucy-mourning period of approximately 4 days, d-dad and the girl brought home winston. sigh. winston is a male dog, approximately one year old and very much NOT house-broken.

so goes the story of my life. now i realize he isn't the most handsome boy - he has a serious underbite, he has a really meaty butt and a slightly little head (i'm thinking weiner/terrier/chihuahua mix maybe)...but he's quiet and very eager to please and seems pretty smart. he also just happens to be a remarkable camper...the shot would have been a good one if i'd cut off the camp-coffee after say, 7 cups. heh heh heh.

but, but, but...

friday morning and things are settling...

company left yesterday afternoon, after a grand week of laughs, love and relaxation.

my dot seems to be doing better every day. i think she feels bad about healing, as she mentions how she misses lucy constantly, but just in a passing kind of way. like it hits her that her pup is gone and oops she had been having fun, so she'll take a moment to kind of sigh and say, "mom, i really miss looby" and then jump into the pool and go back to being the sweet carefree girl that is my daughter.

she has begun "just looking" at puppies on-line. God, kill me now. no, really. just kill me...i SO much don't want to go through another year of raising a puppy, but how do i tell her no? anyone?

because normal is anything but...

in the easy life, one's dog doesn't always die a quiet, peaceful death after living a nice long life consisting of beloved car rides, chasing mourning doves and snoring on the couch without a care in the world. no...because nothing is "normal" in this particular life that leads me from one day to the next. here, my dog dies at barely one year old, sprawled out on the garage floor, strewn garbage around her, with her head stuffed as far as she could get it into an empty beef jerky bag. i so completely shit you not. i'll fill you in on the story, as sad as it is, rather quickly as the easy life waits for no one and i have out of town guests due to arrive in approximately 6 hours. i have a million things on my mental to-do list...the least of which is picking up approximately 5 cat food laced horks that are scattered about my house in neat little mushy shit-looking piles. on my carpet, of course - easy life cats never urp on the tile. got home from isabella yesterday around noon-thirty after picking up the kids from their dad's house. go to back my car into the garage, as i have a ton of shit to unload, and see two of the three dogs run out into the driveway in a happy slobbering greeting. hmmm...big surprise, lucy seems to be busy in the garage eating something. lucy is ALWAYS busy eating something. she lives her life to eat. she is the top scrounge in a world of really scroungy things. i jokingly ask the kids, myself, whomever if she's freakin dead or what - pup better move, cause mama's backing up. nope, pup doesn't move. pup is definitely otherwise engaged. oh look at that, pup has her head stuffed into a bag of jerky. what the fuck, over? it seems that pup has forsaken her very life for what may or may not have been a sliver of beef jerky left in the bag. she is in a sort of crouched down position, legs sprawled in all four directions and she just looks like she just fell asleep while munching away on a delectable, forbidden treat that she, and she alone, managed to discover while rummaging through a bag of garbage that i was in too much of a hurry to toss into the main can last friday on my way out of town. my assumption, after going over and over it in my head, is that she was so intent on cleaning out the bag that she was unaware of the carbon monoxide building up in her little scavenger lungs. maybe thinking "hmmm...this was truly delicious, i'm feeling a bit like a little nap right now. oh yea...right here, right noww-zzzzzzzzz..." pup is now and forever running through the fields of doggie heaven, where pups get to eat whatever and however much they want to. i sure hope pup is fucking happy and oblivious to the mess in my back seat of my car that is my daughter. there is nothing i can do to help my child. she sobs. and sobs. she wraps herself around me as tight as she can and gasps out things like "i just never thought she'd die so soon." and "mom, do you think God will let her eat jerky in Heaven?" i vaguely hear jonsie saying to me, "uhm, mom...i think that was my jerky bag." omg. this isn't really happening, is it? because the way i deal with death seems to be running from it, i simply close the garage door, gather up my child and take her into the house where we rock back and forth and cry. disneyland dad has been summoned, because if nothing else, he is awesome in a pinch that involves a stiff and his near-hysterical daughter. he arrives in tears feeling that if he had only gone back to pick lucy up the night before... they had taken her to the dog-park sunday afternoon and brought her back to the house so they could go for a swim and not have to leave her in the apartment by herself. the plan was to return before dinner and take her back with them. but, starving and exhausted from swimming, they later decide that they would just leave her at the house to play with the other two dogs as ms b would be back home by noon the next day. it's all good. to wrap up this really really sad story, the girl insisted on keeping a sleepover date with her friend alysha because, in her words, "...i think i really need to be distracted, mom." omgomgomg. my heart is just shattering into a million pieces for this child. upon my return from delivering her to her friend's house, i discover that mike, with the help of brader, has already buried lucy with her baby, her bone and her ball out by the pool - it becomes my understanding that braden had to convince him that burying the jerky bag with her was NOT "the right thing to do". thank you God that this man is the father of my children. he has built a crude marker to put by the grave and we go out to say our last goodbyes to the stupid little dog that gave her life for what i hope was an actual bit of beef jerky. to think that she went through all of that for just a bit of juice is just too sad.

in the heat of the night...

found this way cool old Royal typewriter at the thrift store the other day, brought it home and set it up on my way cool desk that i found at the same thrift store. the desk is across from my bed next to a window in my room... sleeping peacefully at around 3am tho nights ago when my cat decides to begin working on her kitty-memoirs. tap-tap-tap-click-click. tap-tap-click-tap. click-tap-click-tap-tap-tap. WTF...are you serious right now? she is tapping on the typewriter keys - walking over them, pushing them with her nose? i yell at her to stop and throw a pillow at her. i hear her bell tinkling as she jumps to the ground, so i know i startled her...hopefully for good. cheese an rice...GOOD NIGHT! tap-tap. click. OMG, what a snot! i yell at her and chuck another pillow in the direction of the desk as i roll over, finding myself face-to ass with the cat. hunhh? if she's right next to me...? OMG my new typewriter is HAUNTED!!! uhhh...yea, that actually went through my head just before i reached for the light to discover that i had left the window open and what i was hearing wasn't, in fact, my brilliantly gifted cat, but the wind tapping the blind against the sill. duh. i knew it all along. for rice sake, how have i lived this long without being officially committed?

baby, baby don't get hooked on me...

where has the time gone anyway? ok, so it's been awhile since i blogged and instead of wasting space giving a buncha bs reasons why, i'll just move forward with a quick little story that i call: "some of my friends are shitheads..."

background check: i have cockatiels that lay eggs every once in awhile - well, one of them does for certain (she's hot for me - what can i say?), not sure about the other one - i'm assuming that they are both females, as i've never actually seen them have bird-sex and the eggs have always been sterile. anyway, she lays them and then stresses out over them for weeks, so for shits and giggles, i usually put a nesting box in there when someone starts to lay and whoever's laid it goes a bit bonkers for the next couple of weeks continuing to lay eggs, rolling them around with her beak to get them in the perfect spot and then sitting on them and puffing up whenever anyone comes near her nest. eventually i take out the nesting box, fry up the eggs and feed them to the dogs, then all in our little bird-world is right again.

really wanting to raise baby cockatiels, i borrowed Al, a cantankerous male cockatiel, for a couple of weeks in the hopes that his presence would get my girls going and we could have some babies. Al was just spitting mean. had to wear leather gloves to rescue him whenever he jumped his dumb ass off of the cage because he bites - asswipe. anyway, the girls didn't seem to care much about Al one way or another...towards the end of his stay, one of them started sticking her hoo-ha into the air and most definitely begging for some lovin'. unfortunately we had at least one or ten of many possible roadblocks: maybe there are gay cockatiels out there and i found at least one; maybe the girls just weren't sexy enough for Al; maybe Al was a typical male-creature and couldn't read the oh-so-obvious "give me babies, please" signs and thought she was just bitching at him; maybe she was just bitching at him and that rendered him a limp noodle as he just couldn't be expected to actually perform under those stressful conditions; or maybe...just maybe my girls didn't care for Al's big i'm-a-bad-ass attitude. as i said, could have been many things. regardless, i reluctantly took Al back to his real home in isabella and resigned myself to no baby birds.

upon returning from the weekend, i found an egg very ungracefully plopped at the bottom of the birdcage. GASP! could it be? could Al have been the stud i had hoped for? i need to get busy and get her nesting box ready! yay, i may have babies after all! whoo-hoo!

long story short, i had trouble creating my usual nesting box, as i have given them a new cage recently...so off to petsmart to get a "real" nesting box. still excited! bring it home, stress everybody out setting it up and then sit back to watch what happens. mama bird gets in the box and i can hear her pushing around the egg - back and forth, back and forth it rolls until she gets it where she wants it and sits on it, all puffy and protective. waiting, waiting - should have more eggs soon - tap, tap, tap. nothing. week goes by. shit, should have more eggs. mama is sitting plenty, but not laying more eggs. hmmm, egg does look a bit bigger than usual, maybe that's all she could do this time...maybe she put all her eggs in one basket, heh heh heh. well, guess there's just the one this time. that's cool, better than none - now let's wait to see if it's fertile.

every couple of days i check the egg with a flashlight in the pantry. should soon be able to see activity in there...you know veins and such. getting kinda impatient. nothing. tap, tap, tap. hmmm...been about 10 days - should definitely be seeing something by now. sigh. guess i just wasn't destined to have a baby Al after all. brynn still wants to bring in her friends to look at the cute little (kinda big) egg, no problem - hurry cause i'm gonna toss it. kiki from next door comes in all oohing and awwing over the egg and says, "huh, it looks a lot like that mourning dove egg my mom found laying out in the street and put in here a couple of weeks ago when you were gone - weird huh? i guess they all look the same..."

bitch.

it's a great day - to wipe some kitty's ass...

anyone else spend 20 minutes this morning trying to cut fresh shit out of the ass-fur of a wildcat?

no?  what a surprise...just me.

bitch.

i have three dogs. sutter is old. and blind and deaf. but overall, she's healthy as a freaking puppy. she's a great dog, but has developed uhm...shall we call it "selective hearing"? i have buddy (aka ASSMUNCH) who is an obese, highly anti-social kennel fighter, but super sweet to people. then there is lucy. lucy is still a pup, so i keep getting told to cut her some slack...she has my neighbors pissed off at me because she's a barker ---no, she BAYS. why in God's name didn't someone tell me that beagles were BAYERS before i got her? she's really cute and really smart, but stubborn as a mule on steroids. also, she's a runner. little bitch.

yesterday morning dale and i were getting ready to make a home depot run for a few things i needed to fix up a few things around the house. i'm inside cleaning up and he's outside looking at my back gate. the door opens and he pops his cute little head in and rather timidly says..."hey sweets, can i get a little help rounding up three dogs, please?"

greht. just fooking greht.

all three pups are about halfway down my road - now i live on a cul-de-sac inside a development surrounded by pretty busy streets. only two ways in or out. my dogs are heading for way out #1. fortunately i was dressed (things like this usually happen to me in my jams), but still had my slips on - i can run in them, but i run like a special person; incredibly special. i yell for my dogs and the only that stops is buddy (have i mentioned what a good boy he is, why yes he is a such a good boy.) lucy is beside herself, drunk with the freedom, going wherever her stupid nose takes her. sutter has her head down and is making a beeline for absolutely anywhere but here. the good dog came right to me and dale put him back in the yard, the two bad dogs might have glanced at me for a second and quickly dismissed any ideas of willingly returning home - i can see it in their eyes - the moment that they decide the pleasure will definitely be worth the pain.

i am at the circle-drive entrance to the neighborhood and the bad dogs have stopped to sniff and pee, i'm gaining ground all the while yelling at both of them to "COME!" i get down on my knees on the sidewalk and start being as sweet as i can be to get lucy to come. kissy noises, patting the ground, sweet baby talk, bribes of prime rib and broccoli - you know, whatever it takes. WHOO-HOO! it works, she sees me down on her level and is so overjoyed that i don't sound mad anymore, that she's a running up the sidewalk towards me as fast as she can go. no wait, now she is going as fast as she can. huh...still picking up speed - she must really want a hug from me and to tell me how sorry she is for being a bad bad girl! racing right at me and, i swear not 3 feet in front of me, she cuts just enough to her left to shoot past me at, oh i dunno, maybe 73 mph? shawna, with absolutely no mind to what the hell the neighbors are seeing and absolutely no fear for her own safety, lunges to her right as hard as she can from her knees, right arm outstretched and in slo-mo she grazes (yes, grazes) the little snot's back with her fingertips...in a flash i see lucy's mouth wide fucking open in absolute, complete and utterly hysterical ecstasy. as i land with an "OOOOOOOF!" flat out on my side on the neighbor's lawn, slippers having flown off long ago, baseball cap still laying in the middle of the street, i swear i heard her laughing. [who'll be laughing when the garbage truck pancakes your ass into the concrete in about 3 seconds from now missy? hmmm...yep, pretty sure it won't be you."]

oh wait, no that wasn't lucy laughing...that was my neighbor stacy (the one who's hubs is pissed off), who was heading out for a walk, only to be treated to the site of me rolling around (for no apparent reason i'm sure, from her point of view) on someone else's lawn. she crouches down and calls for lucy, who joyfully runs to her and leaps into her arms, all lickey and happy and cute. omg, i swear, this dog is going to be the death of herself. you'll read all about it and IT WON'T BE MY FAULT.

now, PRIOR and UNRELATED to this incident, i was getting her a static (read: SHOCK!) collar to help curb her incessant barking at anything that appears to be any different from anything else she might have seen at any time in her life before. (again, with the pissed off neighbor) so, needless to say - i'm doubly determined. in fact, give me extra batteries and lots of extra shocker remotes - i'm handing them out to all my neighbors.

heh heh heh.

Yellow River by I.P. Freely

good GAWD what is wrong with me? this pup is like a newborn - cheese n rice!

briefly (cause i'm tired and want a nap) she has been named and renamed. she is now and forever lucy-lou (ok, i add in the lou part) and she is sweet. very sweet. but a pup and a young pup at that. a young stubborn pup named lucy-lou. did i mention she's sweet?

i know pups are easily excited and generally balls of energy following up with the sleep of the dead. this one is no exception, but add to that STUBBORN AS HELL. wow. good thing she's sweet. i know she's not stupid- girl learned to sit in 15 minutes - but she is absolutely C-L-U-E-L-E-S-S as to the potty training. she will play outside for an hour, come inside and pee. she pees anywhere. she doesn't try to hide it, she doesn't sniff out a spot like when she's outside. she just squats and pees - whenever, wherever. i yell at her to stop and she looks at me as if to say "yo, peeing here, be with ya in juuuuuuust a minute."

did i mention she farts and eats her own poop? sweet-sweet-sweetie-sweet.

oy.

for the love of fresh air.

holy crap where the hell have i been?

i didn't realize it's been a couple of weeks since my last post. what a freakin slacker, LOL! bennett and i are chillin' at the lake this week while brynn and braden are enjoying knott's berry farm with their dad. all of us are heading for home tomorrow and will attempt to ready ourselves for the new school year that starts monday morning. gah.

the kids and i went camping at greenhorn last weekend and had a lot of fun, well...until it was time to break camp. that gets me crabby. plain and simple. we brought sutter down with us - she is still recovering from her surgery - and i'm thinking she won't be wanting to go home anytime soon. she loves it here. she chases lizards and bunyas. she watches the coyotes from a safe distance and seems to enjoy just roaming around. she is healing nicely and there is no sign of any new lumps. she got her first bath in about...oh, i dunno - 8 years...the other day. she was so filthy from camping, i had no choice. she is definitely being spoiled though, she slept in a tent with the kids up on the mountain, and here she is quite comfy indoors with a big ole comforter and her own fan. sheesh, even the dog has an easy life.

i wish i had tales of shawna-style camping to tell you. nothing incredibly funny happened, nor did i do anything particularly stupid. my girl did not bellow across the campground this year, wondering if i was ready to tie one on at 7am. no one put anyone else's eye out with flying woodchips and/or horseshoes. it was simply relaxing and beautiful. the weather up there (at appx 5500 feet) was absolutely gorgeous - around 83 while it was 100 down in the valley.

we didn't have any interesting visitors in the night, although we were awakened a couple of mornings by some seemingly pissed off chipmunks. oh and by the daily warming up of the meat-bee indy 500. we saw a gorgeous doe (a deer, a female deer) and her twins - spots and all, OMG they were adorable. they were very casually wandering through the backside of our camp in single file stopping to nibble flowers here and there - very peaceful and calm. we tried to follow the movements of a couple of combative squirrels up in the tree tops. they would squawk at each other and the take off running, leaping from tree to tree, knocking crap down all over everyone. only twice this year did they attempt the art of murder-by-pinecone...i'm happy to report that they missed both times, but they definitely managed to skeer the bejeebus outta me. these cones are probably a foot long, maybe 5 inches in diameter and they are green so they weigh a TON. drop that pup from a height of about 70 feet and they become dangerous little bombs. little furry bastards.

anyway, sorry i haven't posted, i still have stories to tell from my trip to the coast. ugh. hopefully i can transition back to the school-year routine easily enough and get back into a schedule of my own. i love the freedom of summertime, but look forward to the FOOTBALL and cooler weather that fall brings.

back soon.

oh beautiful, for spacious skies, with loud noise up above...

my poor dog. i don't remember when it started, but was very early on that i noticed her freaking out when she heard fireworks, thunder and/or gunshots.

when i say freaking out, i mean completely muy loco. she goes out of her mind. first she retreats to some far corner in the garage, but soon realizes she can still hear the pops. then she hangs out by the door to the house in the hopes that some weak, unsuspecting child will open it. when they (inevitably) do, she barrels past them at the speed of lightening, with the weight of a black bear and the determination of a killer whale to devour a penguin. there is no stopping her, even if you think you are prepared before opening the door. she forces her way in, panting ferociously, and races to a dark, hidden corner of the house. getting her out after that practically takes an act of God. i find her panting, shaking and making herself really really small. it is really pathetic and pulls every heart string i have. because she is such a good dog inside, she always gets to spend the night indoors on july 4th, on a stormy night or anytime some dickwad decides to shoot his stupid gun in the air. by morning she is fine and ready to go outside again. she greets dumbass---i mean buddy--- and teases him with her tales of being comfy and cool (or warm and dry) on braden's bed all night. he never understands - he's just happy there's a "new" dog in his yard again (yea. he's that stupid)

shortly after we moved into this house in november of 2001, the kids and i left for the thanskgiving holiday weekend to a relative's home 3 hours away. sutter was left in the care of the Dad, in her new backyard with plenty of room to play and explore. a storm came in a day later while the Dad was at work and the dog went absolutely ape-shit. she was in a strange yard, with no kids or nice Mom to comfort her when the thunder rolled in. i can't tell you exactly what happened; i can tell you that i came home three days later to a destroyed gate - when i say destroyed, i mean she managed to rip off the boards along the bottom of it in her desperation to get out; i came home to shredded moulding all along the outside of the back porch door - her nails repeatedly digging at it, trying to get in the house; i came home to a doorknob (yea, the metal-brass-round-outside kind of doorknob) with punctures in it from her teeth. she freakin' tried to open the door using her teeth - think she wanted in...? my poor old sweet sutter.

now, in anticipation of a storm or fireworks, i cancel any plans to be away from the house and let the old girl in early on. i figure each time i probably add a couple of years to her life in doing so and that's just fine with me.