And we’re off

After months of “I’m going to NY, no, shit, I’m not” I’m finally going. I told the Bear, “come Hell or high water, I am going to NY!”

I get to drive all day tomorrow, and then visit relatives till my head falls off, go back to the motel where I always stay, get a shower, drink a beer, go to bed and start all over the next day.

I can’t stay with family although I have a plethora of relatives there. I love them, or I wouldn’t visit, but I need to decompress after I spend a few hours with them!

They never stop talking

Never.

Also, they never stop talking over me. Apparently there’s something about me because this is a common thing in my life, people talk over me all the time. I don’t tolerate it from anyone but my family, only because I’ve given up trying to change them. There are occasions when I’ve yelled “LET ME FINISH A SENTENCE!” but that usually leads to “why are you being such a bitch?” so I rarely do it.

It’s exhausting after a while, and it makes me remember why I so rarely get homesick and never regret having moved away. I look forward to the visits, but I also look forward to the return to the privacy of a motel room every night.

And it’s a much nicer motel than the one in Schitts Creek, by the way.

Maverick will be beside himself. He already is, he’s been watching me pack and bring stuff to the car and now he’s just kind of moping. Laying on the guilt, yes he is. On top of this, his favorite treat was just not the same. Max was the first to get a Woofer every night. It’s a dried beef patty made by a company in Illinois, he would stand on his head for one of them. We continued the tradition with Maverick, who usually gets a couple at night because Dad is a pushover.

Check them out: https://www.jonesnaturalchews.com/

I opened a new box last night and thought they looked different. Much thicker and darker. I gave one to Maverick, he took it to his rug and dropped it, then looked at me like, “what the hell is this thing?” And refused to eat it. The Bear tried to break it after I was unsuccessful, He couldn’t break it either. He put it in a vise and hit it with a hammer to finally get through it and then basically tore it in half. It was strange looking inside, like paper.

Maverick got a different treat.

Today I emailed the company, not expecting much. They responded with a request for the lot number so they could further investigate. I sent it to them, and they responded by thanking me and offering to send a replacement box. What????? This kind of customer service is unheard of these days! I am very pleased, and impressed.


So if you get a chance, check them out, because a company like that deserves our business. And meanwhile, I’m going back to packing the car

Posted in dogs, family, home, Maverick, my life | Tagged , , , | 10 Comments

Back to the Future

Yeah, that happens to be one of the many movies my husband has ruined for me.

But I digress. My back is wrecked. My granddaughter is almost 16, and when she was 6 months old her parents separated. Don’t tell me babies don’t know what’s going on, she picked up on the stress and was affectionately known as “Sarah the screamer” for months. She could cry for hours. There were only two things that could calm her.

One of them was Josh Groban.

I adore Josh Groban and only partly because his voice could calm the screamer

The only other thing that worked was rocking her, in my arms, bouncing till she finally fell asleep It broke my back I told her that when she was about 6, she cried and cried that she didn’t mean to break my back! Oh stop, I know it was horrible, but not nearly as bad as when Bear told the kids they couldn’t watch Harry Potter again till they were 40! (One forgets how literal small children are!)

So for almost 16 years, my chiropractor and I have been fighting the good fight. Lately, we’ve been losing. I mentioned to my family doctor that the back pain was getting worse, so off he sent me for x-rays, which showed some lovely mess caused by aging and by stress and off I went to a spinal specialist SHE said it was a mild mess and sent me off to be tortured by the therapist.

One of the first questions she asked was if the pain was in my “butt-ocks.” I replied, ‘Why, yes, Forrest, it is!” And hilarity ensued. I honestly asked at one point how many people break wind doing this stuff. She replied, “only the old farts.”

this may be subject to copyright – I am clueless about that stuff!

I made a valiant – but unsuccessful – attempt to not snort. Oh what did you think? Stop! I have class!

I now have exercises that must be done at home. They involve laying on the floor – so Maverick thinks that he should join in the fun. This is gonna be a party – but hopefully it will help. I’m tired of hurting.

P.S. The Screamer is a really great kid now that she’s kinda growing up. Amazing how that happens.

Posted in home, Maverick, my life, pain | Tagged , , | 8 Comments

Nervous Nellie

Yeah, that’s me. So the Bear works second shift, which means I’m home alone for the bulk of the evening. I’m actually okay with that, his choice of TV shows quite frankly sucks, so having the TV all to myself and not being subjected to smirking Hawkeye or fake dumb hick smiles of Andy Griffith and the accent of Gomer Pyle that makes my skin crawl, is not a bad deal.

I live in the country. It’s beautiful back here, quiet, isolated, home to many an axe murderer. Keeping me safe from those axe murderers, or murderers of any type, is Maverick’s mission in life. However, my choice of TV shows tends to run to the Investigation Discovery channel which is full of, you guessed it, axe murderers.

(this may be copyrighted, I don’t know, I’m clueless about that stuff)

Happily sewing away upstairs tonight, I was rudely interrupted by fierce barking, the likes of which would scare the most intrepid ANTIFA member into setting his own pants on fire.

I’m no longer upstairs. Thanks, Maverick, Mommah is now downstairs where the guns are and the doors are and the keys are close at hand in case we need to make a fast exit.

Oh, and if we do? Don’t give me this, “I’m not getting in that car!” routine or I might just leave you to face the axe murderer on your own.


Oh hell, you could probably take him on and win.

Posted in dogs, family, home, Maverick, my life, Uncategorized | Tagged , , | 9 Comments

Dear Maverick

You came into my life when I was one hot mess, my heart was shattered into a million (at least) pieces, painful shards of memories stabbed me every moment, tears were constant, laughter and joy were foreign concepts. From the second you wrapped your paws around my arm, the light came back into my life.

It had been ten years since I had a puppy. Max was 7 weeks old when he came home to us, and he was an old dog in a puppy body even then. He was calm, and loving and gentle, and while he had his moments – and I had some bruises to show for them – he was not the typical Golden land shark, holy terror.

I was not expecting Tiny Terror. I was totally clueless when it came to a high energy, very smart, very active little dog who not only needs but demands my attention pretty much 24/7.

And there you are. It was a rough go for several months, and we still have our bad days when I just wish you would settle down for more than 10 seconds at a time. You don’t know that I worry that you’re living so fast, too fast, and I fear you’ll use up all your time too quickly.

I thought I knew a good bit about dogs. Max was a Certified Therapy dog and we spent many hours visiting nursing homes, schools, even going to the hospital when Bear was sick. (He was knocking on Heaven’s door and you turned him away from it and back to us. ) (He agrees with this completely)

I found out that I knew a ton about Max. I don’t know nearly as much as I thought I did about other dogs. And so the teacher has become the student. It’s taken about a million dollars in books, a gazillion hours of study, countless hours of crying to a dear friend (thank you, Mattie) and more hours of talking to our trainer. I’ve taken courses online, listened to podcasts by my favorite trainer (Ian Dunbar, I could listen to him read the phone book) and I think it’s finally sinking in.

This past week, we’ve been able to go to our own private dog park every day. Okay, that sounds fancier than it is. It’s our trainer’s field, which is fenced in and she’s allowing us to use it in the morning. I throw the ball and Maverick runs and runs. He roams and sniffs and I throw the ball some more and then finally, I can get him to focus on me, and listen to me and training has become a game.

Dear Maverick, thank you for teaching Mommah to lighten up and have some fun. And thank you for making Mommah spend all that money on books (but if you tell Dad how much, your cookie allotment will be cut in half) and thank you for teaching me some stuff about myself along the way.

I know we’re not there yet, I know we have a long road of work and training ahead of us for you to be the dog I know you can be, but for today anyway, I feel a lot more confident that we’ll get there eventually.

And I love you, Little One. You healed this shattered heart and made Mommah smile again, before you stepped on my sore toe and made me swear because dear JESUS, watch where you put that big paw! 🙂

Posted in dogs, home, learning, Maverick, Max, my life, training | Tagged , | 13 Comments

2 weeks has become 6 months

Two weeks to flatten the curve. That’s what they told us. Two weeks, we just had to stay apart and wash our hands till the skin fell off and everything would be fine.

And we did it. And it worked. Two weeks, and the curve was flattening.

And then it became a month. That month became another. And another.

My college shut down over Spring Break. We spent two weeks frantically trying to figure out how to teach subjects online that were never meant to be taught that way to students who don’t know how to learn that way.

We did our best, praying that Summer session would be back to normal.

Nope, this, we’re told is the “New Normal.” I suppose if you had diarrhea every day for 6 months you would consider it normal to poop 8 times a day, but it’s not something I would like to see happen. (Had that for two weeks, I know, TMI) (Thank goodness it was after the toilet paper panic)

Hey, if you can’t learn online, take a semester off! Not a big deal, right? Well, yeah, it kinda is but you’re being a hero here, and saving Grandma. Feels good, doesn’t it?

Yeah, I didn’t think so. So your kids can’t learn because the internet sucks where you live, or you don’t have a computer to start with (seriously, this is a thing), it’s not a problem because you’re saving a life!

Your kid’s life may be ruined for a few months, maybe years, maybe forever, but what the hell, you SAVED A LIFE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’m pissed. We’ve been mostly living the same way we always have, except for the stupid face diapers that we tie on when we have to – and “have to” always brings out the rebel in me. I tend to forget that this shit is going on. (Stay off social media and turn off the news and life is a lot better, trust me on that one.) And then I get an email that my college is now going to remain closed through next May.

Let that sink in. Next May will be over a year since the initial closure. A year of our lives that we can’t get back. A year of our lives that was taken for a disease with a less than 1% chance of killing most people. Don’t tell me that this sacrifice was worth it. It wasn’t.

Posted in Corona virus, home, learning, my life, politics, teaching | Tagged , , | 9 Comments

Murphy hates me

And yet another roadblock to my trip has appeared. My sister thinks she has the virus and went to be tested. If it comes back positive, I can’t go. No question, I can’t be quarantined for two weeks up there. If it comes back negative, that would be nice.

And yesterday my hip decided to act up. This would not normally be a big deal but my chiropractor was with someone who tested positive and she’s out of commission for two weeks herself.

I’m about to give up and reschedule the whole damned thing for the next full moon that falls on a Friday in October. (I don’t know if there is one. Probably not.)

I am seriously pissed and tired of this shit. I want normal back, and not this stupid “new normal” crap where people are scared all the time.

My husband told me it will all be over after the election. Really? Because if Biden wins, we’ll all be miraculously cured? And if Trump wins, the same people who wailed and carried on for the past four years will suddenly pick up their toys and go home?

I’m tired.

Posted in Uncategorized | 16 Comments

Google is not your friend

Well, not mine, anyway. I’m a hypochondriac. I get a pain, and I know I’m dying. Seriously, I’ve been at death’s door so many times that Death is probably ready to just boot my ass through to get it over with.

I know better, but I do it anyway. I google my symptoms. You know, there’s not a single thing that is not a symptom of cancer? I swear! Cough once at 3:00 pm and you’ve got cancer. That little toe hurts? You’ve got cancer.

It might be Covid

Nope, it’s cancer.

Maybe it’s Covid. Hell, even if it’s cancer, they’ll put it down as Covid.

I’m screwed, either way.

I digress. There is a point to this. Well, there usually is, but I like to take the scenic route, okay?

I go to NY every summer to visit family. There was a period where I didn’t go – about 6 years passed – because family stuff gets stupid, especially with my family. But since the family members I like are all aging, I’ve been trying to go every year for the past 10 years or so. Last year, I made three trips. Technically, two trips were in 2018 and two in 2019, but one of those was in December so it felt like three in one year. I usually go in June or July, depending on when I have to teach. This summer everything was online because we were all going to die of Covid, or cancer, or both. And everything was shut down because we were all gonna die, which was kinda stupid because since we were all gonna die, why not make our last few days one hell of a good time?

I digressed again. I put off my trip because of all this stuff. (Didn’t want to die stuck in a motel room in Upstate NY because of quarantining and stuff) I finally said screw it. No, I said far worse than that but you all think I’m a princess and I don’t want to spoil your vision of me. Stop laughing now.

I decided I was going, come hell or high water, as my sainted mother would say. (She had a million sayings and I wish I could remember them all.) It’s been a huge hassle, Bear works for the school and first couldn’t get the time off, which is necessary because we won’t leave Maverick alone all day – that’s not fair to him and I won’t do it – and then he got the time off and I made plans and then they decided to change the day that school starts, so he can’t get the time off, so I had to change my plans (I may punch someone, let the kids go back to school, dammit) And then they changed it again on us.

Today I decided to cancel the trip. Then he came home and said he got things worked out and I should go. I’m gonna pack and hope for the best and if I have to cancel, I’m gonna cry a lot and scream a lot and probably kick something and hurt my toes – and then I’ll google toe pain and know I have foot cancer.

Or maybe Covid.

Posted in Corona virus, family, home, my life, vacation | Tagged , , , , | 10 Comments

Masks

I spent a few hours the past couple of days making masks. I honestly hate them. I’m not really sure they do a bit of good, but they’re “required” in some places and I have friends and family who will always follow rules, even if the rules don’t make sense (I’m the rebel who says, when told that something is going to save lives, “prove it” because I do not like to be inconvenienced in any way. ). I’m the one who inherited the crafty gene – if something needs to be made, they look to me. We all inherited the gene that says if you can do something to help, you do it, and you don’t ask for accolades – actually, you do it and shut up about it.

So I’m not going to tell you about the number of masks I’ve made, or to brag that I won’t take money for them. I’m not about to profit from a pandemic.

I’m also not going to tell you that I think the whole mask thing is a blatant attempt to control the masses. Wait, I think I just told you that I think that. Oh well, never mind, I didn’t sleep last night and I’m drinking a beer so I can be excused.

Tonight one of my friends commented that her two year old wears a mask – and actually asks for it when they go out. I nearly cried. A two year old. He’s way too young to be masked. Yes, I know the CDC says he should be. I trust the CDC about as much as I trust Maverick to not beg at the table when it’s time for dinner. (Maverick begs every time I sit down even though I never – okay, hardly ever – okay, nearly always – give him something. )

A two year old. A child is being raised to socially distance himself from others. A child is being raised to not see the smiles of friendly strangers in a grocery store checkout line. (One of my favorite things to do before this bullshit hit was to make a baby giggle while waiting in line at the grocery store. I can be incredibly silly with children. I know, hard to believe) A child is being raised to never smile at a stranger, or a loved one, because he can’t see their face and they can’t see his. And when he looks at people as less than human, will it be because he was never allowed to see their smiles?

It breaks my heart.

And I go back to my sewing and I use the cutest fabric I can find – puppies and baby animals, butterflies and flowers. Perhaps they’ll smile inside when they see the puppies. I can only hope so.

Posted in Corona virus, family, home, my life | Tagged , , | 16 Comments

Who’s walking who?

Maverick pulls. He pulls on leash like he’s the lead dog and I’m the sled. We work on this little quirk every single freakin day. We go to the park, and we practice “Mommah doesn’t move when you try to pull her arm out of the socket.” Every single day.

We are apparently notorious at the park because sometimes Mommah loses patience with “I’ll sit here till you take a step and then it’s on, bitch!” and says, rather loudly, ‘Jesus H Christopher Christ on a pogo stick, that’s enough!” (H stands for Harry, according to my sainted mother)

Dog training is a fascinating subject. I read dog training books like some people read Harlequin romances. The best piece of advice I’ve gotten from my books is this – the hardest dog to train is your own. I can teach dogs to sit, stay, roll over, take a treat nicely from my hand, and a whole lot of other stuff. I can even take stuff from my BFF’s dog, who was abused as a pup and doesn’t trust many people.

I fail miserably with Maverick. I love that kid so much, just thinking about him makes me smile. He is so smart and so funny and so frustrating all at the same time. He’s indulged and spoiled and he blows me off when he doesn’t feel like doing what I ask. I would never accept that from another dog but this kid – I’m putty in his hands.

I don’t mind so much except that his bad behavior is making me look bad. My friends call me the Dog Whisperer – don’t get me started on Cesar Milan, k? – and I can’t even get my own silly pup to walk on leash nicely. And I probably wouldn’t even mind all that much that I look bad if it weren’t for the totally wonderful people at the park who find it necessary to comment – every. single. day.

“wow, I guess you know who’s in charge here!” No, seriously, who is in charge? I had no clue that being dragged into the bushes meant I was not in charge! Thank you for making me aware!

“He’s taking YOU for a walk!” Wow, how original! I haven’t heard that one since, oh, yesterday?

“Have you considered a prong collar?” Well, no, because I’ve considered the damage they do to a dog’s neck. (Nothing that works by causing discomfort is going to actually work – take it off and he’s gonna pull just as hard as he did before.)

“Maybe you should get a shock collar for him.” Maybe you should get one for yourself, asshole.

“Have you tried treats?” No, this bag on my hip is just for decoration.

“He needs a drink.” Apparently he doesn’t think so because water is anathema to him at the park. But yeah, since you’re worried, I’ll make sure I once again attempt to get him to drink.

And my favorite – “why isn’t your dog neutered?” What I want to say – “why are you looking at my dog’s ass?” What I do say – “because I’ve researched and learned that early neutering increases the chances of cancer in Goldens by a very large percentage and also affects their hips and knees and having lost one Golden to hemangio, I will move Heaven and Earth to keep it from happening again.” And what I also don’t say – “it’s none of your freakin business.”

I’m going to start telling people I’m training him to be a sled dog. (That was suggested by a friend and I like it.)

I think I’ve become a complete curmudgeon. Also, get off my lawn.

Posted in dogs, learning, Maverick, my life, puppies, training | Tagged , , , | 12 Comments

It seemed like a good idea at the time

Back when the world was normal – and don’t ever say “new normal” in my presence, or I will cast you out of my life so fast your new normal will be to spend every day in tears of sorrow at my absence – my department chair decided to change the accounting curriculum. We’ll be going from one 16 week class to two 8 week classes, essentially breaking Accounting 101 in half. It’s worked well for math classes, where students did well for the first half of the semester, fell hopelessly behind the second half and failed the entire course miserably. Breaking it in half allowed them to still fail miserably the second half but only have to repeat that half and not the first part, which saves them money and makes them more willing to give it another shot.

Great idea. Since it’s such a great idea, let’s also change the text! Well, the one we were using was a pretty good book but the website was a nightmare that gave us issues every single semester, to the point where I opened my classes a week early to give the students time to get registered before the inevitable overwhelming of the system the first week of school.

The IIC (Idiots In Charge) decided to go with an OER (Open Educational Resource.) Didn’t know that academia has as many alphabet thingies as the Feds, did you? Well, we do. We like to think it makes us special when no one knows what the heck we mean. We also like to tell people to “just effin google it!”

This lovely text has only been made available within the last couple of weeks, and then only as an e-text. I am not 21. My body feels like I’m 91, especially on days like today when Maverick has felt it necessary to drag me to every bush at the park. And under trees. But I digress. I love to read on my Kindle, I am not averse to electronic books at all, but when it’s a text book, I need to hold it in my hands, mark it up, highlight it, stick cute little sticky notes on the pages, and just totally make it my bitch*.

I asked for a physical copy. Nope, sorry, can’t do it, not happening. Yeah, I don’t think so. I don’t do well with being told no. I found a website that will print OER’s for a reasonable price so I ordered a copy and a week later, had it in my hands.

Building an online class is not something that happens overnight. I have one month before classes start. I’ve read the book and started creating slides and I am totally overwhelmed with the amount of work that needs to be done to get this in any form that will actually be beneficial to the students.

And I don’t have any motivation. I would much rather be quilting. Sigh. Back to the grindstone. Pray for me.

*(The last time I heard that expression was from a student who was telling me about her little dog making her big dog its bitch. She regretted telling me that when she dragged me before the Dean later. Long story, perhaps I’ll share it sometime)

Posted in my life, teaching | Tagged | 15 Comments