Blue paint, viking horns and pussy hats

I read a post on Fakebook the other day from someone commenting about Memorial Day, and the Greatest Generation and the differences between then and now. A comment was made about “fake patriots in blue paint and viking hats.” Maybe my mind is wandering because I woke up an hour before the alarm and had to pee too badly to pretend that I could just go back to sleep -which means I tried to go back to sleep for about 15 minutes before giving in and getting up, and then there was just no point in going back to bed. At any rate, it struck me that the silliness of wearing Viking horns has been painted as the most horrible thing for anyone to do. I’m not saying that January 6th wasn’t serious, and it needs to be investigated for a lot of reasons – how in the hell did anyone get that far into the Capitol when Congress was in session anyway? It wasn’t like no one had a clue that people were planning to protest!

And then, because I was knitting I suppose, I got to thinking about pussy hats. Wearing a vagina on your head has to be one of the stupidest things I’ve ever seen anyone do. But the women who did that were considered brave and empowered. (Empowered is a word I seriously find annoying, by the way. It usually means that someone feels like they have to right to do something that most of us would think was probably not a good idea, like wearing a vagina on your head)

Blue horn Viking guy is still sitting in prison. People who burned down Portland and other cities all last summer were released within days, if not hours. Nobody got arrested for wearing a pussy hat, because apparently the fashion police had been defunded.

I’m of a generation that was raised to think of our vaginas as private, something that wasn’t to be shared with the world. Did this mean we were ashamed of them? I don’t think so, I kind of think that talking about your parts is like talking about pooping – we all have them, and we all poop, but do we really have nothing better to discuss? I’d really rather talk about a book, thanks.

And on a random note, becoming a student again is stressful!

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Thoughts while waiting and a minor rant

My great nephew, who is the joy of my life and has been since the day he first drew breath, is graduating from college tomorrow. He’s getting an award today so I’m waiting for the live stream to start. I’ll probably cry. I can’t imagine how the baby boy who wouldn’t stay with anyone but Auntie, who took every candle off my bookshelves and made caravans across the floor, who had to eat a fudgsicle whenever he visited, has grown into such a wonderful young man. I’m sure it’s totally because he takes after his great aunt. 🙂

We are very far apart in age and yet we have long conversations, sometimes late at night, about all sorts of things. He is the child of my heart, as is his brother (who’s studying to be a doctor, yeah, proud Auntie here)

So I’m sitting here waiting for the ceremony to start and tomorrow I will watch graduation as well, and probably cry for that one too.

I took Maverick for his walk this morning at the little park because he no longer is interested in walking further than it takes to poop and be done with it. The little park is only 1/2 mile around so I take him back home and go to the big park and walk my miles without him dragging me around – yes, loose leash walking is a work in process. Maverick is not a fan of meeting other dogs while on leash. He is especially not fond of dogs on flexi – leads. (I believe he’s gotten part of that from me, because those things were created by Satan) (Shutty, Maxwell) He also is not a fan of people who wear masks at the park, and I’m totally with him on that one. (I whisper as they pass, “curses on your cooties!”)

Owning a dog reactive dog is a learning experience. My first Golden loved every dog and every person he met. Maverick is far more selective. There are a few trusted friends we can pass at the park with nothing more than polite interest. There are a few that send us as far off the path as we can manage, and a few more that I actively get in front of and block Maverick’s view. I ALWAYS warn people to stay away. “Please don’t come close, he isn’t a fan of other dogs” is my go-to comment. I say this loudly and clearly. This does NOT in any way translate to “Please come over closer and make me say it again.” Today at the little park, I saw a man and woman approaching with a chocolate Lab. She’s a nice dog, Max played with her a few times at that park. Her owners are elderly. The gentleman walks the dog – on a flexi-lead – and has no control of her. I know this because I’ve interacted with this couple more than once.

Maverick and I headed to the field. I wear earbuds and listen to a book while walking. It keeps me sane during the endless sniff fests that Maverick enjoys. They’re wireless and I keep the loop in front because if I loop them around my neck, it annoys me and gives me a funny line in the middle of the tan my necks gets every summer. (Yup, right now I’m truly a redneck, I got the sunburn going on!) The old couple stopped on the path and looked over at us, and started in our direction. Lucy, the dog, was pulling at the end of the flexi-lead. (So she was about 800 feet out in front of the old guy) I pulled one earbud out and said, “Don’t come closer, please.” I’m polite, it’s how I was raised. The lady started towards us, saying, “what?” I moved further away saying “Please don’t come closer, he doesn’t like other dogs.” At this point Maverick was barking and pulling and generally being an idiot.

Again she says, “What?” I pulled out the other earbud. “DON’T COME ANY CLOSER!” Finally it sank in. She shooed her husband on down the path and decided that SHE would come over. “HE’LL KNOCK YOU DOWN!” I said, as I’m trying to move him along in the other direction.

Finally, we were back on the path. They were moving the other way and no harm done other than me being annoyed. I reached down to my neck to put my earbuds back in and they were gone. I searched through my clothes, thinking they had fallen and were hanging off my bra or something. Nope, they were gone.

They were not the most expensive of earbuds but they weren’t cheap either. I was pissed. Trying to search for them in the grass with Maverick pulling on me was an exercise in futility. I took him back to the car and walked back to the spot where we had gone off the path. I searched the grass, nothing. After going back and forth several times, I gave up, in tears, and headed back to the car. “Please show me where they are, ” I said, as I walked on. Lying on the path half way around were my earbuds.

A happy ending. And still I wonder why people just don’t listen. Not every dog is friendly. Not every person is friendly. If someone is moving away from you, don’t move closer to them.

Is that really so hard?

Meanwhile, Alex is making me proud and that’s a good thing today

Posted in dogs, Maverick, my life | Tagged , , | 14 Comments

Suddenly it’s summer and other random thoughts

We’ve gone from having the heat on to having the A/C on in the space of a week. I love Summer, I love the heat, I don’t mind humidity, I could cheerfully live in 80 degree weather year round and you’ll never hear me complain it’s too hot. (I may be preparing for my future life, who knows? But in my view, Heaven is hot and Hell is cold, so there’s that)

Maverick, on the other hand, does not understand that he doesn’t get to shed layers of fur like Mommah sheds layers of clothes and he really should not be outside for long periods of time when it’s 80some degrees out there and he can’t stop moving long enough to even get a drink.

We’ve taken to walking at the small park – a half mile – with him, because he’s just too hot. I take him home, then go to the big park and do my miles. I like to eat and that means I need to walk at least three miles a day or I turn into a balloon. I don’t like myself when I’m fat. I also like ice cream so I do what I have to do to have both – me sorta not fat but able to eat a fudgesicle when the mood strikes.

(It strikes almost every day)

I’m heading to NY again in a couple of weeks. I’m kinda dreading this trip – because I’m not getting this experimental vaccination and most of my relatives are convinced I’m an idiot. I’m also sort of an anti-masker, and when I mentioned to my sister that I rarely wear one, her reaction was “WHAT ARE YOU THINKING?” Ummm, I’m thinking, that’s what I’m doing. I will bend enough to wear a face diaper when required while there, but I will not be pressured into a vaccine. I’m afraid it’s going to lead to arguments. Le Sigh.

I’m teaching two nights a week. And I signed up for a computer science course, so I have homework of my own – I finished the first chapter today (yes, I know it’s only Monday and the class opened at midnight last night, I’m a nerd, k?) but I’m stressing about the quiz on this chapter because it’s an adult student thing – (and I’m a nerd) – that I have to get an A. (But it is fun to be a student again. ) I’m going to be busy with that, and it may just be my excuse should the family pressure become unbearable.

Today I decided to make molasses cookies. My dear departed friend Cindy would say, “Mole Asses?” She was a character and is much missed but that’s another story for another day. I’m using my mom’s recipe. She didn’t write down directions, only ingredients. This is interesting. They smell good, they look funny, Bear will eat them and all is good

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How do you define “Cluster***k?”

Today was not Monday but it should have been. We got up to the phone ringing – my brother in law had taken his car in for inspection and it needed a ball joint. I think I need a few of those myself, but I digress. (Maxwell, shutty) He’s deaf so the repair guy was calling to tell Bear that this part wouldn’t be in till noon and this was 9 am, so M didn’t really want to hang out at the garage till then. Bear went out and picked him up and brought him to our house, where he promptly spilled a bottle of soda (I don’t know why he was drinking rootbeer at 9 am) (I went outside) (MASH and M are more than I can handle on one cup of coffee) all over the table.

My car was at another garage, having a something or other replaced so it would stop rattling and there would no longer be a threat of it leaving me along the road somewhere, or of me leaving it because said rattle was very annoying. It was meant to be finished by 10

It was not

Bear goes to work at 2

I went to the patio to escape MASH and M, but delayed our morning walk in case my car should miraculously be finished soon. Or in case Bear had to go to work before M’s was finished because he would need a ride back to THAT garage.

M’s car was done at 12:45. Phew. All the usual morning stuff was completed early, for justin. (Justin Case, my favorite person) I had made Bear’s lunch, he had showered. Yes, I make his lunch. No, I don’t have to. I like to make his lunch. We don’t just say the words round here, we show love in little things like that. (I get defensive because people get judgy) (None of my faithful readers would, but you never know)

Bear called about my car. It would not be done till 3ish. Horsepuckies. He told me to go pay the bill (he left a check) when it was done, and when he got home from work we would go get it. He gets home at 11:30. He’s tired. He doesn’t want to drive another 15 minutes to get my car, and 15 minutes home. But he would because, see above.

I called my best friend and asked if she was free. Yes, she was, and because (see above) she’s my BFF, she picked me up and took me to get the car. Bear can now come home and relax.

Maverick and I went for a walk, or more accurately, Maverick took ME for a walk. Le Sigh. He will someday walk nicely on leash. Then we shopped. I planned to weed and plant flowers today. We have a long line that we hook Maverick out on, it’s connected to a stake in the ground. Bear thought the ground was too soft and that Maverick would probably pull out the stake and I’d have to chase him through the woods, so I didn’t get the flowers in. I couldn’t find my gardening gloves. I looked in about 84 places and found one. So we stopped at the store. No gloves. Le Sigh.

We came home and I finally got a shower. Yes, that was me you could smell earlier. Then I counted my zippers. No, that’s not code, I’m making baby buntings and they have a zipper. Being short a couple, off we went to the store again. I stopped at Tractor Supply and got gloves.

Perhaps tomorrow I can weed. While Maverick is at daycare.

Oh, and I hear there will be gas shortages because apparently the CIA was too busy making woke videos to pay attention to some serious cyber threat. Welcome to CreepySnifferMan’s America

Posted in family, home, Maverick, my life | Tagged , , | 14 Comments

It’s Wednesday – because I can’t think of a cute title today

It’s been busy around the kingdom lately. The semester is done, seven wild weeks of five classes but I made it through without too many scars or too many alcoholic beverages. (hush)

My schedule was class from 2-3:30, and again from 6-7:40, every M/W and then office hours from 4-8 on Thursday. Maverick was not impressed.

Maverick has been with me or the Bear every minute of his life, except for the few hours that he’s gone to the groomer. He doesn’t know what to do with other dogs, I think. He sees dogs at the park, from a distance, and sometimes tells them to keep that distance, quite rudely. I am at his beck and call 24 hours a day. I love him more than I ever thought possible – after Max died, I didn’t think I could love another dog. I was wrong. I’m not built for 24/7 attention to anyone or anything. I need my me time and when I don’t get it, I get incredibly crabby. I know hard to believe. (Maxwell, shutty)

So last week I made the decision that Maverick was going to daycare. Our groomer/trainer runs daycare and I trust her with him like I wouldn’t trust anyone else. He is doing extremely well, meeting other dogs in a safe environment – from the other side of a fence if she’s not sure of them – and playing with a couple of dogs who are very sound and no worries at all. He is also involved in a budding romance, he tells me, but I’m sure he’ll blog about that himself.

And Mommah’s getting some time to relax and get some stuff done around here.

Which leads me to knitting. A wonderful person sent me a wonderful gift yesterday. My morning was not the best today, because mornings! I sat down to check email and found that I had been given a present, a pattern for slippers that I had admired on this blog: https://cosmicknitter.com/

I shall be smiling all day from this act of kindness.

(Also, I get to see the perfect baby this afternoon, and the sun is out, so pffffttttt to mornings, this afternoon will be lovely) (And I’m going to find yarn for slippers too!)

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One more time…………..

There is no account titled “profit and loss.” It didn’t exist for the past three weeks, so why do you keep putting it in your journal entries?

Cost of Goods Sold has nothing to do with Supplies. It hasn’t for the past three weeks

You can’t credit an asset when you depreciate it. You couldn’t three weeks ago, two weeks ago, last week, and you can’t this week either.

I’m not accepting your latest homework submission because it was due two weeks ago, and the answer dropped open a week ago.

I’m not accepting your homework submission that you created in some format that only someone with an advanced degree in computer science and possibly access to government super computers can open.

Nor am I accepting your homework submission that you created with some format that comes off so small on my computer that I have to enlarge it 500% to even think of reading it.

I’m not thrilled that you decided that the template I provided for you wasn’t good enough so you created your own that makes absolutely no sense and since you won’t change it, I’m not accepting that submission either.

Your final closes on Sunday at mignight. No, I’m not going to extend it. I’m not going to give you an extra chance because your friend let me know there was an issue and you decided to just sit there and whine until your time ran out.

Can you tell it’s the last week of class? Can you tell I’ve been grading homework for several hours and answering emails in the middle of that? Can you tell that I’m tired of the “you may have 85 students but none are as important as I am so drop everything and do what I want now, bitch!” attitude?

I wonder if it will get better or worse when we start having students who have been “learning” online for the past year?

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Today’s dose of what the ………….?

I signed onto Facebook this morning – I haven’t posted anything there since December but I like to keep tabs on the few friends who still use that hot mess. One of them is from Canada, so she posts stuff about what’s going on there. Today it was an article about Halifax shutting down. People were commenting about how this is just wonderful and the way to end this problem and along with the vaccine, maybe “by summer we’ll be allowed to go out and play a little.”

That was my WTF? moment.

They’re CELEBRATING the government AGAIN telling them they can’t “go out and play?” I am so not a rebel. Okay, maybe I am. I never thought of myself as rebellious, I don’t like getting into trouble, I follow rules and in my entire life, I’ve been pulled over ONCE for speeding – and didn’t get a ticket, by the way. (okay, we won’t discuss the time I got a ride home because I was a wee tad tipsy – there are benefits to growing up with the chief of police in a very small town) And yet, I am astonished at the willingness of people to allow the government to take away their rights and not make a whimper, and then thank them for MAYBE giving back a crumb!

My second WTF moment came after reading a book review. I finished We the Living the other night, posted it on Goodreads, which I pretty much do only so I can keep track of how many books I read in a year. I posted about this book the other day so no need to revisit my review, however I was totally astonished to read a review written just recently – and be aware this book was published in (I think) 1936, that said that the author knew nothing about the topic and was obviously just pissed off that she had lost her privilege when the Russian Revolution happened. She also damned near lost her life, many people were starving or damned close to it, but apparently eating is now a privilege? Seriously?

And my third WTF moment came when Maverick decided that every guy at the park was his new best friend. HE DOESN’T LIKE MEN!

I’m living in the Twilight Zone. Oh, and then I saw that we’re supposed to only eat one burger a month, according to the CSM who is not my president but currently resides in the White House. Yeah, not happening. Guess I am a rebel, cuz when you tell me something like that, it makes me want to say, “you want fries with that?” Yes, as a matter of fact I do.

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I just want to read

I learned to read before I went to kindergarten. (Trust me, this will piss off a teacher no end) My oldest sister – aka Satan – was in college, learning to be a teacher, and she practiced on me. Actually, all the kids did, I was the youngest so when we played “school,” I was the one who learned something while they were just being bossy. 🙂

When I got to first grade and was totally bored with See Jack Run (yes, I’m old, as my friend Kristy says “shutty.” ), the teacher was equally bored with me and didn’t exactly encourage my prowess. It didn’t matter. My parents were both readers, and all of us in my family share a love of books to this day.

I read everything that looked like a good story, and some that were not so great. It didn’t matter, really, it was a book, and it was a ticket to an adventure, and another world, and I can’t tell you how many times I was told to go to bed and I begged for “just one more chapter!”

I think I was in high school before I paid attention to the name on the front of the book, the name of the person who actually wrote these stories that took me to far off lands and wonderful adventures. I had never paid attention to anything but the story itself. I think it was J.R.R. Tolkien who changed that for me, I tore through The Hobbit and the trilogy and what the heck? People actually write series? I can read more than one book about a character? Holy cow, who knew?

I never cared about the author, except if he or she had a new book coming out, or if the last one was as good as the others, or dear Jebus, does the library carry them? I didn’t care about the author’s skin color, or race, or nationality, or religion. I didn’t care about the characters skin color, or race, or nationality, or religion unless it was pertinent to the story.

I still don’t care. I just want to read a book, If the book is about something abhorrent to me, if the main character were a horrible racist and described as a hero, I wouldn’t read further. I’m an adult, I can figure out that I wouldn’t enjoy that story. I don’t have to agree with someone to enjoy their work. I might not like the guy who plows the roads but I’m damned happy if he does a good job! (It snowed here this morning. In April. Don’t get me started on global warming.)

And in today’s world, children – and yes, they seem to be children to me – are cancelling authors who may have written wonderful, amazing stories, that would be a life line to a child in need of one, They’re cancelling authors for any number of reasons. I saw a sad post from an aspiring writer the other day – she said she loved to write stories but as a white person, she felt terrified that she would get some detail wrong if she wrote about a character of another color, as a heterosexual female, she felt she had no right to write about a character who was of another gender or who was perhaps bisexual or gay, and that no matter how much research she did, she would never feel that she wasn’t making a mistake, some tiny mistake, that would destroy any work she might have done. She said that she was thinking of giving up her dream because there was no longer any joy.

I just read We The Living, by Ayn Rand. (Speaking of authors, this one I never read till college and then was forced into Atlas Shrugged at a time when it made no impression on me at all. Or did it? I returned to her work at the suggestion of Peachy (aka, my enabler) and it’s certainly making an impression on me now) Some of the characters in this book experience this same despair – for those of you who haven’t read it, it’s set in the early days of the Russian revolution and the Communist takeover. It saddened and frightened me to see this same despair playing out in a young person today. In America – where I grew up believing you could be anything you wanted to be if you just tried hard enough.

What’s the point of trying if you’re going to be cancelled for a “micro-aggression?”

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One step away from my own episode of Hoarders

We are keepers, my husband and I. We keep everything and store it and never look at it again. We have a storage unit that’s filled with stuff we rarely ever think about, but we pay the bill every month without fail because it’s our stuff, and it’s our past, and it’s not hurting anyone by living in that unit, is it?

We got a letter a couple of weeks ago that the rent on that unit is going up. Not by a huge amount, but it’s an increase that made me stop and think about how much we’re paying each year to keep stuff that we never use. It’s not a huge amount of money, but it’s money we could use for something more productive than stuff we don’t need.

So the cleaning out bug has hit. We’re planning to move all the crap we really can’t live without to the house, but the house is already full of stuff we really can’t live without! Yesterday was hoe out the computer room. Files and papers from 2015 were tossed into the box to be burned – we have a burn barrel, that’s something that living in the country lets you get away with. Next up is the box of books I bought at a used book sale about 5 years ago, I spent $6 and each book was a quarter, so there are 24 books in that box that have been sitting there for 5 years. It’s time to decide if I’m gonna read them, take them to NY or redonate them. And then the room will actually be usually as my office, as was intended when we built this house.

I suppose I have to tackle the craft room next. It’s totally out of control. I’m heading to NY for my annual trip soon and one of my friends is going to be the recipient of every partial ball of yarn I can dig out, and her daughter is getting all the trims and fabric bits I’ll never use. That will knock it down a good bit. Sewing and knitting for the most perfect baby to ever grace the world is also knocking things down – who knew I had so much fabric perfect for little boys?

So you won’t be seeing me on Hoarders this season. I think. I hope. Keep your fingers crossed!

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Priorities

I have about 5000 homework papers and midterms to grade. I should have done them yesterday. However.

Yesterday I went to visit the most perfect baby ever born.

And so today I play catch up and do the laundry that I didn’t do yesterday, clean the bathrooms I didn’t clean yesterday, sweep the floors and vacuum, make lasagna, make Maverick cookies and then when I’m done with that, I shall grade.

But I’ll be thinking about the buntings I want to sew for said perfect baby, and the hats I want to knit for him

Probably not a good idea for students to test my patience today.

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