I’m heading to NY this weekend. Not for vacation, not because I want to, but because there’s a funeral I have to attend. I knew I’d have to do this someday, I just didn’t want it to be so soon.
I’m one of five girls, the youngest. Three are now in Heaven. The one remaining hasn’t spoken to me in 3 years and I’m okay with that, I will always love her but we just don’t like each other. (She’s voting for Ding Dong. Need I say more?) (There’s a lot more to it than that, but it pretty much sums up how different we are.) (I’m okay with someone being stupid enough to vote for the Cackler, she automatically hates anyone voting differently)
Last week the second sister, who was my second favorite, decided it was time to join her husband in Heaven. I know she missed him terribly, and I sort of understand, but that doesn’t make this any easier.
So her kids – who are not kids, but in their 50’s – are fighting like fools and I’m incredibly glad I don’t live closer to them. (I would get sucked into the drama and then I’d have to stop it and it wouldn’t be good) (For them) (I’d stomp a mudhole in their dumb asses)
So I’m leaving Saturday, coming home on Tuesday. I thought I’d have this week to mentally prepare for the coming chaos.
Maverick had other plans. Okay, it’s my fault. Don’t let your dog lick the plate when you’ve had hot roast beast sammiches for supper. Yeah, I didn’t stop to think that gravy for a dog with an iffy digestive system was really stupid. (Grief, I’m blaming it on grief) Yesterday he was fine until he had the blow out from his rear end.
Well. This means he can’t go to daycare because in spite of my assurances that it’s from the roast beast, the owner understandably has to be strict about dogs with diarrhea – it might be something he could pass to the other dogs there. (Not unless they too have roast beast gravy but I can’t convince her)
So there goes my week to prepare. Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe I just won’t be able to think so much about what might happen.
At any rate, if you see on the news that a brawl broke out at a funeral in Upstate NY on Sunday, yeah, it’s probably my family. Send bail money, Bear says I’m on my own. 🙂
Many years ago, my brother in law decided to clean out his liquor cabinet. He wasn’t a heavy drinker but he liked a good Scotch Apparently a good Scotch is supposed to taste like “peat.” I dunno, tasted more like feet to me!
At any rate. I digress.
He pulled out several bottles of various stuff that he no longer wanted. My mom wasn’t a drinker and I’m not big on the heavy stuff, so most of it was rejected.
Then he pulled out the bottle of Irish Mist.
We’re Irish – in spite of my sister’s claims to be Scottish – she’s the only one in my family who isn’t Irish (we humor her.) (With this one, it’s best to pick your battles) At that time, I was seriously into anything Irish so I had to taste this heavenly stuff. It’s a honey liquor, and it’s smoooooooth. He poured me a shot, and handed it over with a smile. “Sip that,” he said, “It’s strong.” So of course, me being me, I knocked that baby back in one swallow.
He stared at me. I handed the glass back and said, “that’s good, we’ll take that one home!” “Also, pour me another.” He did. I knocked that one back, too. I took a breath and said, “One more won’t hurt, “ and held out the glass.
“You’re driving!” said my sister. “Well.” Said my mother. “Nope she isn’t.” 😊 “Give her the shot”
They were in disbelief that I was standing
I have no idea why it didn’t hit me, but I do love me some Irish Mist to this day. It still doesn’t really affect me, but I no longer attempt to do more than one shot – I’ve grown a bit older and my tolerance has kind of diminished with the passing years. (Mostly because I hardly ever drink hard liquor, I suppose) (Because most of it tastes like gasoline)
On the random evenings when I feel having a shot of Irish Mist, I think of my brother in law, who died suddenly almost 5 years ago. He was a nice guy, and I miss him. After his funeral, we met back at my nephew’s house and my sister poured everyone a shot of some super expensive Scotch that is not pronounced like it’s spelled – Laphroaig is the name and it’s said “La-froy-ick” or something like that – to toast the man we all loved. We raised our glasses, said, “to D” and knocked it back.
And every one of us coughed.
Yup, it still tasted like feet.
And I know in my heart that he was laughing in the Heaven he chose not to believe in.
Yes, I miss him. And yes, I had a shot of Irish Mist tonight, and thought of him, and smiled. Thanks for giving me that bottle so long ago, and thanks for being one of the good guys.
Maverick has managed to generate a sore spot on his back paw, which is causing a good deal of drama in my life. I do not do well when my puppy is injured. I do not do well when well meaning friends offer stupid advice like, “Put ice on it.” Umm, have you ever attempt THAT? Yeah, not happening
He was fine at daycare all week, last night he went ballistic when my friend was here and then suddenly wasn’t putting weight on his paw. Ummm, what? So I called the daycare lady, M, and asked if he was okay all day. She reviewed the videos from yesterday and all week, and said he was fine, not favoring that paw at all. She gave me some advice – I will take advice from her because she knows what the f**k she’s talking about most times.
He wouldn’t let us look closely at the paw. She suggested we bring him back to daycare, it’s about a mile from my house. Off we went. Her husband was able to hold Maverick while she examined the paw. As soon as she touched the spot, we knew. She separated the fur and we could see that it was red and sore looking, not open or oozing or nasty, just sore looking. She trimmed up the fur and rubbed some salve into it. Phew.
We came home and I tried to get my nerves to settle, which would have been easier if he hadn’t insisted on licking the damned paw. And my friend kept telling me it was itching and he needed ice. No, he needed a calming pill and I needed a shot of Irish Mist, both of which happened when she left.
So today he’s being babied a bit, no walk for him but one for me.
It feels like life is throwing a lot of shit my way these past few months, so while I’m not happy about this paw situation, I’m grateful it’s nothing worse
I got into a brief discussion today on Threads – which is a site I rarely visit because it seems to be full of Branch Covidians (I just got my 12th booster and now I have Covid AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!) and Trump haters. Today someone posted that Kamalama-Ding-Dong frequently seems drunk in videos.
Yeah, this isn’t exactly news to me. I grew up in a family of drinkers – none of them hard core, no alcoholics except my niece’s husband and he’s a jerk sober or drunk, so he’s not worthy of mention. (Seriously, there isn’t one person in my entire extended family who can tolerate him except for my niece. I can’t count how many times I’ve told him to sit down and shut up because no one likes him. ) (After close to 40 years, you’d think he’d get the message but noooooooooooooo)
I digress
Most of the family enjoys a cocktail or three. Sometimes we’ve all been known to enjoy a few more than 3.
The point of this is not to tell you all that I come from a family of drunks. The point is that I know what a person sounds like when they’ve been drinking and are trying to cover it up.
Every single time I hear Ding-dong talk, I hear the tell tale sounds of a person who’s had a nip too many. Every single time.
So I was told to produce video proving this. The problem is, unless you’ve experienced the way a drunk and trying to appear sober person sounds, she may sound totally normal. Well I wouldn’t ever ascribe “normal” to that woman, (Except, what IS a woman?0
The discussion quicly devolved into “well, your guy is worse!” At no point had I said that I supported Trump. He also says stupid shit and sounds like a raving lunatic at times, but that has nothing to do with the Chosen One quite possibly being a closet drunk.
So once again I’m wondering why every time someone questions her capabilities, it devolves into a discussion of the other guy?
If you’re only voting for her because you hate him, please don’t vote.
I’ve been pondering many things lately – probably the result of having a lot of time to myself.
First – President Trump got shot, narrowly missed getting killed, and we’re supposed to believe that a 20 year old kid somehow managed this all by himself.
Second – the Resident resigned his position as a contender for the Presidency, and anointed Kamala-Ding-Dong as his successor. I have many questions about this. Is this legal? Shouldn’t there be another primary? Who gave him the right to do this? What about the people who voted for him in the primaries? Just because they voted for HIM, doesn’t mean they want HER, does it? I would be royally pissed if my vote was basically just thrown out and someone said, “oh, by the way, this is who you’re getting because we don’t care what you want.”
I don’t like Joe Biden. I’ve never made a secret of that. I’ve also never wished him harm. I believe he’s suffering from dementia and I totally blame his family for pushing him to stay in politics, stay in the race, even stay in the White House. It’s been very sad to watch this frail old man paraded out and it’s veen infuriating to be asked to ignore what was obvious and pretend he was completely fine. Had anyone treated my father like that, they would have seriously wished they had never met me. If there was anything left when my mother got finished with them. (Never a violent family, but we can cut you to the bone with words alone)
I don’t like Kamala-Ding-Dong, also for many reasons. The first one is that she slept with a married man. It’s been well documented, so I’m pretty certain it’s true. I take my marriage vows very seriously. I actually take any vow seriously – if you’re making a promise to God, you better be prepared to keep that promise. Also, as a witch (and not a Wiccan, by the way, the two are not the same) I understand the very real repercussions to breaking a vow. You just don’t do it. Not only that, you respect the vows of others. I blame the guy, yes, he was an equal partner. But she did it to advance her career. We’re telling young women they can compete with a man as an equal – sort of doesn’t seem to me that we want a role model who competed by dropping her drawers.
I watched the debate and tried to be unbiased, even though I really hate DingDong’s voice. It was pretty apparent that the moderators favored her. it was very apparent when she got fact checked once and Trump got nailed on stuff we all know is true.
Are they really eating pets in Ohio? I don’t know, but I think it should be investigated. I think someone should actually talk to the people there and find out what’s going on instead of just taking the word of someone who may not want the truth to be known.
I think it would be great if there was a way for ordinary people to send in questions that anyone running for office has to answer. Don’t tell me WHAT you’re going to do, without telling me HOW you’re going to do it. I can tell you I’m going to Ireland next year – and you might believe me – but I have no real plan to go to Ireland next year, Bear would never fly that far so that’s not even a question. But I could tell you I’m going to – would you believe me?
I’m heartily sick of campaign commercials. If you really want my vote, quit it with the relentless ads. Unless they’re funny. Then you can run them a few times a day. I’m almost missing the damned Jardiance commercials. (That’s a lie, I HATE those! And Wegovy. Just go away with the dancing and singing over a damned drug)
I’m about to make a batch of peanut butter fudge. I thought I’d end this on a good note. 🙂
On Sunday night, I went to the basement to peruse what we had in the freezer. Note the word “had.” Everything was fine, I brought up some tuna noodle casserole, which, by the way, does not freeze well, and that was that.
Monday morning, I went for my usual walk, then went upstairs to do my back exercises. I was lying on the bedroom floor when Bear yelled, “Susan, come help me!” I flew down the stairs, he was leaning over a chair in the kitchen and my heart stopped. I was about to dial 911 while asking what was wrong. He said, “The freezer. The green light on the bottom is flashing and the warning alarm is going off and stuff is starting to thaw.” Well. That’s not good. Better than Bear needing an ambulance, though!
We commenced calling around for freezer space – good friend had plenty, thank God. Loaded up stuff and took it up to her, then came home. Meanwhile the repairman called and he can’t come till tomorrow. Yep, a whole week. Oh well. At least the food is hopefully saved.
So Bear went to work an hour late, I went to get food for Maverick. I decided to bring up a baggie of frozen pumpkin that I had left in the freezer and use it instead of letting it just thaw and tossing it – we had run out of patience while loading up all the food and I said screw that stuff, it’s been there forever. So I went to the basement.
Let me remind you that there are frequently spiders in the basement. It is not somewhere I like to go on a regular basis. There is a large broom at the bottom of the stairs and I am not afraid to beat a spider to death with it, since Bear says I’m not allowed to shoot them in the house. I think that’s a stupid rule but since he so rarely tells me no, I suppose the broom will have to do.
Shock and awe ensued. The light was no longer blinking, the alarm was no longer blasting. The pumpkin was feeling pretty darned solid. What the actual F***? I messaged Bear. His reply was “What the F***?” (We curse too much. Deal with it)
I went for dog food, and when i got home, put a bowl of water in the freezer. On a side note, no spiders dared make an appearance, it was not the day for that nonsense! Later we checked, water was frozen. We’re having the repair guy come anyway and not bringing home the food till we know the bloody thing is definitely working correctly.
On Tuesday, Bear went to the doctor – Maverick took him down about a month ago, he landed on his left arm and the next day his hand looked like a cartoon balloon. He came home from the doctor wearing a brace. Well. That’s nice. Apparently it’s some weirdness and he has the brace for a few months along with Voltaren and prednisone and will be re-evaluated when he goes back
Wednesday I took my neighbor to a meeting of the Friends of the Library. She’s 89 and hasn’t been to a meeting in ages, so that was a lot of fun, she was the definite star of that show. However, on the way in, another lady fell and broke a rib. CFSS, I tell you!
Thursday was actually calm,
On Friday, I posted a picture of a wall hanging I made on the Nextdoor Neighbor app in an attempt to sell it. I got a hit really fast, super excited! This person wanted to pay through Zelle. I checked it out, my bank participates, so I thought okay. I sent her my name and phone number and she said she had sent the money. I checked. I had a message saying they couldn’t complete the transfer because it was less than $150. Hunh? So I told her this and said, just meet me in town with cash. Nope, she wanted to do it this way. She would send me $100 and I could then send that back. Seriously? I don’t think so. I said no, blocked her, called the bank, set alerts on all my accounts and thought, “get a real job, bitch.”
Yesterday, I took Maverick for a long walk in the morning. It was all good – we’ve been working VERY hard on that loose leash thing and making progress, I’m proud to say. Later, I decided a second walk was a good idea. We got maybe 1/4 mile in and he started limping. We went home. I watched him like a hawk all evening. He seems fine today – interestingly, he always visits every tree and bush at the park, all of which are surrounded by mulch, and he always kicks the mulch around. Today, he avoided all of those spots. I realized that he started limping right after he visited one of the trees yesterday. I’m wondering if he got a piece of mulch between his pads and now associates that with his paw hurting.
At any rate. I’m praying that the CFSS is over. I have a baby quilt to sew for my BFF’s new grandbaby and it needs to get done before she goes to Iowa to visit for the first time!
*For anyone who doesn’t know, CFSS stands for “cluster fucking shit show!”
I admit to being confused about this, I’m not sure who is taking away anyone’s right to reproduce.
I’m old enough to remember when there were only a few methods of birth control. Rhythm – which we joked about. “You know what they call people who use the rhythm method? Parents.” or the guy pulling out – and that one didn’t work any better than the other one. And then in the 70’s along came IUD’s and the pill and holy cow, no one really had to get pregnant if she didn’t want to.
(Please don’t think I don’t realize there are moronic men who want their women barefoot and pregnant, and there are cases of rape, and there are cases where it is indeed a health issue. These cases are a totally different thing from using abortion as birth control)
I’m from a generation who viewed getting pregnant outside of marriage as something not very desirable. Most of the time, and no, I don’t have statistics, but my experience showed that most of the time, the guy and the girl got married. If the girl had a reputation, then maybe she went away for a few months and came back a bit thinner, and no one really talked about that – except in whispers. Getting pregnant unmarried was definitely not something to be celebrated.
Birth control gave women the ability to have sex any old time and not have to worry about getting pregnant. It also gave guys the ability to screw ’em and walk away. Somehow, women got the idea that having multiple partners with no consequences to anyone was a really great idea. Young men, who essentially think with their dicks, also thought it was a great idea.
This was the “freedom” that came with birth control
Yes, people made mistakes. Women, girls, got pregnant. I went to college with a girl with got drunk, slept with a couple of guys in the same night, and ended up pregnant. Abortion was a new thing – well, not new, but newly legal in NY. We sent her off to the City to get this done, and she was honestly devasted by the whole experience. There was no “shout your abortion” or celebrities extolling the virtues of sleeping around and damn the consequences.
I don’t think sex is something to view with shame. I think it’s something that should be a loving expression of committment to your partner – the one you share your life with, not the one you share the evening with.
Call me old fashioned but I miss the days when people didn’t tell you who they wanted to screw before they told you their names.
I never was interested in politics, really, till DJT came down the escalator – I turned to the Bear and said, “He’s gonna win this thing” and when the media went nuts about what a horrible person this previously beloved reality star was, I started to pay more attention.
Covid woke up the small part of me that still trusted the media, science, pharma and government.
That said, one more campaign commercial and I’m about to throw the TV over the front bank. Well, Bear would have quite the fit if I did that, so there’s that, but it’s close. Might be worth it if I didn’t know he’d just go buy another one.
Please, you want me to vote for you? Stop lying and stop being assholes. Also, one ad a day and a box of government cheese a month, and I might be bought. (It’s known as “gubbmint cheese” and if you’ve never had it, you’re lucky to not know anyone who needs help with food, but oh you’ve missed some of the best cheese ever.) (We’re not getting it, a friend is)
So, much as I hate their political leanings, it’s Netflix for me till November. Umbrella Academy is my current evening fare. I know there are other streaming services, but I really don’t watch enough TV, nor does Bear, to justify paying for anything beyond Dish Network. (I wouldn’t even pay for that but Bear needs his ancient bad shows)
So if you have any suggestions for Netflix series, drop them below.
In other news, tomorrow is Bear’s birthday. I’m making him a Boston Cream Pie. The cake is baking and once cool, I’ll make the filling. I’m not quite sure I have enough milk so that may require a trip to the grocery store. I will not be indulging in this creation, by the way, too many calories!
I’m one third of the way through the 5th Cormoran Strike novel – this one is over 900 pages long! I was told that I need to read Louise Penny – so once I’m through all the rest of the books I need to read, I’ll start on that series.
Back awhile ago, I weighed a whole lot more than I liked. I managed to knock off a good deal of weight by walking every day, miles and miles every day. I whined about it a lot but I honestly enjoyed it most of the time – the day of the gustnado when I nearly got blown into the field, was soaked through in an instant and thought I was going to land in Oz (which wouldn’t be so awful, I’m a good witch, but still) – was not one of my favorites, although I’ve gotten a good bit of mileage out of the story of that experience.
Then along came Maverick. Mr Tiny Terror did not take kindly to spending hours in a crate while Mommah walked for 3 hours alone. He wasn’t able to go more than a mile – if that – guilt set in and I stopped going for my long walks daily. I went from 5 miles to 3, then to 2. By then he was able to go that far, but loose leash walking is an art I’ve yet to master with Maverick. (I never managed it with Max, either).
And then my back got the stupids, and all bets were off. So the pounds have taken the opportunity to take up residence on my hips once again – not as many but more than I like.
I know how to fix it. I just need to do it. So the “eat less, walk more” program starts anew. It’s too hot still for Maverick to go far, but once it cools off, he can easily do 3 miles with me. I just need to figure out this loose leash thing.
Yesterday some guy posted a video on Twitter (X) of J.D. vance getting on a plane with his GSD. I seriously want to meet the person who trained that dog! He had one finger loosely hooked in the loop of the leash. ONE FLIPPIN FINGER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The comments were priceless, the original poster (Took me ages to figure out that “OP” meant “original poster” by the way) was not a fan and stated that anyone could see “that guy never walked a dog before.” He got schooled. Probably didn’t listen, but at any rate. The dog, I believe his name is Atlas, is beautiful and very well trained. Pretty sure he won’t go around biting any Secret Service men! (Or women) (That’s a topic for another day)
Our walk today was not an example of good loose leash walking. However, we aren’t as bad as we used to be and that’s something. The only real pulling was when he insisted on going to say hi to two boys, probably 10 – 12 years old. Yeah, he’s my social butterfly at times.
Tampons. Can we please go back to a time when such things were not discussed in polite company? No woman, and I swear by that statement, wants to make it public that she has her period. No woman. And I don’t mean someone who “identifies as” a woman, trust me, if you’re a guy who thinks you want to have periods – I had cramps that would put me in bed for a couple of days, so you’re welcome to that shit.
2. I was not aware that one could choose to stop menstruating. (Yes, I know, I don’t want to talk about this but I’m doing it anyway because…..) Apparently one can take endless birth control pills and never have a period. Is this possibly healthy
3. Wegovy commercials. They are right up there with Jardiance commercials. Maybe spend money on teaching people how to lose weight in a healthy manner instead of having them dance around singing an obnoxious song?
4. Why in the heck are the soaps so dumb? Really, is it necessary to turn Hope into a Brooke Jr? And why is Katy being such a snit about Poppy? geesh!
5. Why in the heck would someone who served 24 years in the military – something to be proud of – choose to lie and embellish that record, knowing full well that the truth was bound to come out?
6. Why the heck can’t I get a straight answer about my future at the college? Sent one last email today and hopefully I’ll get an answer. And then I can plan for the rest of my life.
7. Why are people starting to talk about Fall and Halloween already? Can we please enjoy the Summer while it lasts?
8. Can we bring back public shaming? Blue hair looks stupid. Nose rings make you look like an animal that needs to be led around. Stop it, you look ridiculous.
9. Can we get back to basics in school and stop all the nonsense? We really don’t need drag shows in kindergarten, and if you want to take your child to one, you should be visited by CPS. Or some old fashioned grandmothers.
10. Why am I so bloody shy that I really hate trying anything new or doing anything new and my default is to say no. (Peachy will laugh at this one but it’s really true, I have to make myself say yes to things)
11 Why is it so difficult to decide what to have for lunch?
12. Why are there so many books and so little time? And so little room in my house for more? Why do I have so much yarn?
13. Why do people cancel stuff on the threat of bad weather – when it’s 24 hours or more away? Maverick is home today, mostly because no one else was coming for daycare so if he has no friends to play with, he may as well stay home. And we’re meant to get thunderstorms so he’ll be hiding upstairs with me.
Suziecreamcheese Sings the Blues 
