tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-271638492024-03-14T02:38:37.034-06:00Debbie Does DuluthLiving every week like it's shark week...Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704916453841215332noreply@blogger.comBlogger777125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27163849.post-3971887530265772902009-12-22T06:15:00.001-06:002009-12-22T06:18:13.798-06:00Onward....Still getting the new cyber home fluffed and ready but please find me <a href="http://onwardandawkward.wordpress.com/">here</a>.<br /><br />Put up your feet, pour some coffee, and don't mind the dog hair...Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704916453841215332noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27163849.post-11548882833699038672009-12-19T05:03:00.004-06:002009-12-19T05:03:00.461-06:00One YearFor a year, I've gotten to contemplate the idea of crime and punishment. Too bad I'm not a Russian writer soaked in vodka. It might have made the journey a little more coherent.<br /><br />Often I give myself homework. Often I say "I know this will piss me off but I should read it/see it/do it. I just might learn something." Such was my idea behind watching <a href="http://www.thewoodsmanfilm.com/">The Woodsman</a>. I thought it would push me a little too close to the edge but I thought I might also learn from it.<br /><br />Which I did.<br /><br />The movie centers around a pedophile getting out of prison and his attempts at reintegration into society.<br /><br />In all honesty, there have been times when I have been so financially stressed that I just sat down and though "Hmmm. All he ever did was sit on his ass. How is doing that exact same thing in prison any kind of punishment?" Hey, he's even going to get <a href="http://www.doc.state.mn.us/publications/documents/MNDOCPre-ReleaseHandbook12.08.pdfhttp://">tips </a>on how to write out a job application and a resume which will allow him to list the prison system as his EMPLOYER while he's inside working for a buck-o-five an hour.<br /><br />He will also never have a single obligation ever again for the kids. Life will proceed for him just like it always has...everything will be about him and him alone.<br /><br />One time during our marriage, he told me he could never handle the thought of ever losing me. If something were to happen to our kids on the other hand, he could handle that...just not something happening to me.<br /><br />Thankfully, I believe I responded to that statement with "What the fuck????"<br /><br />So, I'm still trying to understand the idea of punishment.<br /><br />He will only be able to live in certain places.<br /><br />He will only be able to hold certain jobs.<br /><br />Hmmm. Once again... how is this any different from the life he chose for himself before prison? He stayed in jobs that caused him to chafe and bitch at every human interaction. Unless he held a job that was just about him doing solitary tasks, he would never stop complaining.<br /><br />My only two glimmering lights are that he will have to report to a parole officer. He will have someone who is in <em>charge</em> of him. He will have someone that knows his history and won't take his bullshit.<br /><br />The other glimmer is that, as a convicted felon, he will never be able to vote again.<br /><br />As someone who would often spout paranoid drival reguritated by the latest nutcase that he had listened to, voting was something very important to him.<br /><br />Voting was a hell of a lot more important than his wife or kids.<br /><br />I guess it's the little things that count.Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704916453841215332noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27163849.post-65754163258282909522009-12-18T07:25:00.003-06:002009-12-18T07:37:05.690-06:00Mother's Little HelperI am choosing not to medicate myself with anti-anxiety meds this morning. They have a tendency to make me slow and stupid, like I'm swimming through jello.<br /><br />A year ago, my doc gave me this prescription to help me through the madness. He warned me that they can be addictive and that I should only take them when I REALLY NEEDED THEM.<br /><br />Well, on the first anniversary of the two anniversaries over these next two days, I'm still on that original prescription.<br /><br />There were a couple professionals that tried to get me to take anti-depressants instead but the last thing that I thought I needed was to feel numb, no matter how much I really wanted it.<br /><br />Walking into the courthouse? Yep. I was medicated. It's a good thing that I was drugged at the attempted name change because it slowed me down a bit when I ran screaming after him at the elevator. Had it not been for the intervention of chemistry, I very well might have leaped onto his jugular and feasted on the refuse of humanity. I am, after all, a<a href="http://tardis.wikia.com/wiki/Krillitane"> Krillitane</a>.<br /><br />So, I guess the medical community and the criminal justice community can stand down. I'm not addicted to their pills and I didn't act upon the darker impulses in my heart.<br /><br />Now if I could just kick that black tar heroin habit, I'll be golden.Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704916453841215332noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27163849.post-52420961500282739862009-12-17T07:31:00.002-06:002009-12-17T07:36:59.919-06:00Not ImpressedThere are certain people in this world that you just don't want to imagine them coming in last in their class.<br /><br />Like, your brain surgeon.<br /><br />or perhaps, your lawyer.<br /><br />Since my lawyer gave his lawyer all the paperwork and said "just fix the typos and submit it to the courts" and he did, I received a cc'd letter from my lawyer to his lawyer telling him there were still minor errors that needed to be corrected. Nothing earth shattering, nothing that changes any legalese in the document, just a couple of formatting issues basically.<br /><br />The thing is, it was already submitted to the court.<br /><br />And as I reread her letter this morning, I noted that in paragraph two? There is a typo.<br /><br />Is it possible to have two lawyers that have graduated last in their class at lawyering school on the same case?Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704916453841215332noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27163849.post-4595764014040969432009-12-16T06:17:00.008-06:002009-12-16T07:02:21.899-06:00Low Rider<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnunnLeLNjMnEHMYbRCv7TTi8HLK0uxIOitbol5ijOmOlphAH6-bGfgflanyM4gdaMfyxe44Ur9FQhgXCRVf2Vf2g9hJ-jaPDFC-RuSzF5EBQO6YVrruzqDaxBT7iZnJcUNmrEcA/s1600-h/LAZY+KIRBY.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnunnLeLNjMnEHMYbRCv7TTi8HLK0uxIOitbol5ijOmOlphAH6-bGfgflanyM4gdaMfyxe44Ur9FQhgXCRVf2Vf2g9hJ-jaPDFC-RuSzF5EBQO6YVrruzqDaxBT7iZnJcUNmrEcA/s320/LAZY+KIRBY.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415809324125964658" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Dear Winter,<br /><br />I am not a fan.<br /><br />Your snowbanks are ever so high and as you can see, my legs are ever so short. The phrase for the season? Frozen balls.<br /><br />The dumb one? Yeah, Shuggie?...he doesn't seem to mind your evil machinations. He's also got the benefit of being fat and furry whereas I am sleek, sveldt, built for speed and picking up sophisticated chicks at jazz clubs in Harlem.<br /><br />In other words, I am not built for winter.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMqpJ3kEGErc_d5l_RLpT_BmmnkWRZf0_RHxvLN8Kkjsk5JeAUq03AKPBmWf1sXA3aTyoNbC4fZ_1DtSi0IHwu2xgGrH5obEdTLZpSuJXEtY_amfEolHa-LIMb8GqTaRP-Ry0_Wg/s1600-h/Shuggie.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMqpJ3kEGErc_d5l_RLpT_BmmnkWRZf0_RHxvLN8Kkjsk5JeAUq03AKPBmWf1sXA3aTyoNbC4fZ_1DtSi0IHwu2xgGrH5obEdTLZpSuJXEtY_amfEolHa-LIMb8GqTaRP-Ry0_Wg/s320/Shuggie.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415811583404187778" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />See what I mean? Look at this picture! He's packed with insulating fat! He's probably contemplating how he can lure me away from my bowl and eat all my food.<br /><br />He does that.<br /><br />And he sticks his entire head in the snow when we go outside. I just look at him and wonder how he is allowed to go outside without his helmet and ticket for the short bus.<br /><br />He just doesn't get it.<br /><br />When the owner takes us on our walk, he doesn't protest at all. He just barrels ahead with his empty head and his enormous stomach.<br /><br />I, on the other hand, let my displeasure be known. I will walk one block and one block only and then I sit down.<br /><br />This is the signal that the owner needs to call me a cab. I am through.<br /><br />Winter? You will not defeat me. And I'll be damned if I'd be caught dead in those nerdy <a href="http://dogbooties.com/">dog bootie</a> things. I have my pride.<br /><br />I am currently investigating whether or not Petco offers a taxi service.<br /><br />Sincerely,<br /><br />KirbyDebbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704916453841215332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27163849.post-39092309017876052842009-12-15T05:26:00.004-06:002009-12-15T05:26:00.099-06:00The New NormalAt one point in this last year, my lawyer told me “You’re going to have to realize that this is something you’re always going to have to live with.” This was her response to my pointing out her incompetence which was wasting my time as I wait for my divorce. My pushing her had nothing to do with psychology and everything to do with getting his name off the title of the house so I could refinance and hopefully not lose my home. Hmmm….still hasn’t happened yet.<br /><br />This last year has been one long experience in perpetually slipping on the ice and trying to find my feet.<br /><br />It comes down to the fact of finding “the new normal”.<br /><br />The “new normal” is the daily struggle of not thinking about what happened right off the bat in the morning. I’m not asking to be oblivious; I’m not asking to forget. I’m just asking my brain to let me get to at least ten am before I feel the weight of it all.<br /><br />The “new normal” involves watching every single parent-child interaction in public with suspicion.<br /><br />The “new normal” involves walking through my neighborhood and thinking about all the awful things that are probably going on behind all those closed doors.<br /><br />The “new normal” involves not speaking his name. A name gives a person power. That is what I have learned over the past year. That is why he has fought our name change so vehemently. Even as a convicted pedophile, he thought he still had power over us by denying our name change. By forcing the kids to keep his name, he was exercising his power over them, even after doing everything, by his choices, to destroy them. One day, when our name change actually happens, we will exercise our power, the power to say “no”. In the mean time, he will remain nameless.<br /><br />This has caused some interesting verbal exchanges: sentences are left hanging, the air thick with pain and discomfort. “Well, we did it that way because your f…….well, we did it differently back then…we’re going to do it this way now…” It’s a dance. A dance around the center which is filled with so much darkness.<br /><br />The “new normal” involves scribbling my still legal last name illegibly every time I am forced to write it. It involves repeating it in quiet tones when forced to say it.<br /><br />The “new normal” involves seeing the humor in my kids as they combine their last names to be “Sharkness”. It’s the one gray area that I can appreciate.<br /><br />The “new normal” involves seeing a lot of empty cupboard space. Mother Hubbard had nothing on us. I think I could develop a career on the food network sort of like Rachel Ray except my tag line will be “how to pull dinner for two out of your ass when you only have three food-like ingredients in the house.”<br /><br />The “new normal” means that when I am feeling unsure if I am up to a certain task, I look back on the last year and say to myself “If I could make it through that, I can do anything.”<br /><br />The "new normal" is at times terrifying, heart wrenching, and wonderful.Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704916453841215332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27163849.post-85695463599265927152009-12-14T18:35:00.005-06:002009-12-14T21:04:05.124-06:00Knitting Without The VampiresRemember how I was all gung ho on figuring out my own <a href="http://doingduluthmn.blogspot.com/2009/12/youve-knitted-this-one-back-together.html">Norwegian Sweater pattern</a>?<br /><br />Hey Look! Mittens! The pattern is Bella's Mittens <a href="http://subliminalrabbit.blogspot.com/2008/11/bellas-mittens.html">here.<br /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSJAVDGjea5EpY1bJjpyo8hPkXcs_zReULV47m-2Kz6fT17Y4DPnJbLCuMwWrImViavgyOTaFFScoiF_yxzgrOtrFwDVRRc5DYy5LAgzJFZ_AuXHfR_lEzbWZR3I-v41Fzc2lQ9w/s1600-h/Picture+029.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSJAVDGjea5EpY1bJjpyo8hPkXcs_zReULV47m-2Kz6fT17Y4DPnJbLCuMwWrImViavgyOTaFFScoiF_yxzgrOtrFwDVRRc5DYy5LAgzJFZ_AuXHfR_lEzbWZR3I-v41Fzc2lQ9w/s320/Picture+029.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415255697253138658" border="0" /></a>No, they are not knit because I like Twilight. The whole phenomenon makes me want to vomit. The last thing I need is a bunch of screaming fan girls swooning over teen age angst, and their daughters are really annoying too.<br /><br />I knit them because I like a long cuff. And I had the yarn in my stash.<br /><br />And because my sweater is in time out. I screwed up two inches into the ribbing.<br /><br />I have been knitting for 31 years.<br /><br />For non knitters, screwing up a knit 2 purl 2 ribbing is like Danica Patrick failing drivers ed.<br /><br />It's like Magic Johnson missing a slam dunk on a Little Tyke's basketball hoop.<br /><br />It's like Tiger Woods being dateless on a Friday night.<br /><br />I thought I could live with the indiscretion. I thought the sweater and I could come to a mutual understanding and I would recognize that yes, it had its faults but we could always call that part of the sweater the back and no one would know.<br /><br />No one except me that is.<br /><br />Yeah, the counseling didn't go well. I tore it back and now it's sitting on the naughty step.<br /><br />But hey, look!<br /><br />Mittens!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjliGUhj9oNCr7zfNpejSrZ99WHtJjykyvXzn6PDpYXpKRJtnT1DQlrt12PurL_lN_nf4vjWaLcJug-ZftNdSAY-piBAgFJQeAMJDDj-v1jOGRglqV8LZVvjU4KNpTVmT2rBYCFOw/s1600-h/Picture+037.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjliGUhj9oNCr7zfNpejSrZ99WHtJjykyvXzn6PDpYXpKRJtnT1DQlrt12PurL_lN_nf4vjWaLcJug-ZftNdSAY-piBAgFJQeAMJDDj-v1jOGRglqV8LZVvjU4KNpTVmT2rBYCFOw/s320/Picture+037.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415292115047281090" border="0" /></a>Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704916453841215332noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27163849.post-69645682578640656102009-12-14T06:29:00.006-06:002009-12-14T06:57:42.748-06:00360 Days of Fun Fun Fun!We're heading into the anniversary weekend. The one year anniversary of when the shit hit the fan.<br /><br />In retrospect, it feels like a horrible Dr. Seuss book that never quite got published: "Oh What A Year You've Had!"<br /><br />Complete with Trompsnuzzles and Wangdoodles and they all either end up going to prison or to the poorhouse.<br /><br />Yeah, we'll call that Dr. Seuss's blue period.<br /><br />All I can say is that I've never had a more life altering year. For someone stuck in a horrible rut, this last year has been dynamite.<br /><br />It makes me wonder if people in prison actually wake up in their cell with thoughts such as "Hey, ten years ago, I killed my next door neighbor with an ax! How 'bout cake???"<br /><br />Do anniversaries count when you're in prison? And if so, what is the typical Miss Manners gift agenda for prison? Does it follow traditional guide for the folks on the "outside"?<br /><br /><p><b>1st WEDDING ANNIVERSARY</b><br />Traditional Anniversary Gift: Paper<br /></p><p>Prison Anniversary Gift: Toilet Paper<br /></p><p><b>2nd WEDDING ANNIVERSARY</b><br />Traditional Anniversary Gift: Cotton<br /></p><p>Prison Anniversary Gift: Cotton Balls<br /><a href="http://honeymoons.about.com/cs/beaches/a/usabeaches.htm"><br /></a> </p><p><b>3rd WEDDING ANNIVERSARY</b><br />Traditional Anniversary Gift: Leather<br /></p><p>Prison Anniversary Gifts: Bondage Leather (also known as "shower accessories")<br /><a href="http://honeymoons.about.com/od/luggage/"><br /></a> </p><p><b>4th WEDDING ANNIVERSARY</b><br />Traditional Anniversary Gift: Flowers<br /></p><p>Prison Anniversary Gift: Marijuana (Prisoners are known for suffering from open angle glaucoma)<br /><a href="http://honeymoons.about.com/od/hawaii/index.htm"><br /></a> </p><p><b>5th WEDDING ANNIVERSARY</b><br />Traditional Anniversary Gift: Wood<br /></p><p> Prison Anniversary Gift: It's the gift that keeps on giving, just ask your cell mate.</p><p><br /></p><b></b>Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704916453841215332noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27163849.post-16367427117754753332009-12-13T08:55:00.004-06:002009-12-13T09:21:08.099-06:00Eating ChristmasA couple weeks ago I hooked up with a blog reader (Hi Jon!) for a donated little Christmas tree. At four feet tall, it is a perfect addition to our living room. I have another little tree coming from my holiday posse in Michigan (Hi Lu!) which will go in our dining room. Two small trees equals Christmas, right?<br /><br />The little tree in the living room is covered with red and white lights which match our new paint job with an appallingly Martha Stewartesque charm. After the Great Purge, I saved about ten tree ornaments, all of which have something to do with the kids: Baby's First Christmas, handmade ornaments from preschool, et cetera. In other words, the little tree is a concentrated bolus of holiday cheer.<br /><br />The concern with such a small tree and two very active dogs was of course, canine holiday annihilation.<br /><br />Thing is? The dogs are supremely unconcerned.<br /><br />Thing is? It has become a feline jungle gym.<br /><br />I remember when I was a kid and we had a tall tree and one of our cats decided to climb it. It was at least possible to extract the cat from the branches with relatively little harm. In this instance though, the cat is fat and the tree is small.<br /><br />It started with ornament hide and seek. The first few days of having the tree up resulted in finding ornaments in strange places, behind the sofa, under the table. I'd walk into the living room to find the knitted Santa that I made years ago lying splayed on the floor like a victim on "Christmas CSI".<br /><br />The thing is, I'd never catch him at it. I would be upstairs and I'd hear ornaments being battered around but the second I came downstairs, he would vanish.<br /><br />Cats are like Baptists. They raise hell but you can never catch them at it.<br /><br />But yesterday morning was a little different. I came downstairs to discover the entire tree on its side with the ornaments all over the living room and the cat lying directly on the tree in an intoxicated state of misbehaving bliss.<br /><br />He looked up at me and meowed happily. He was very proud of his achievement, why, he had even eaten a glittered pine cone that was probably fifteen years old! Delicious!<br /><br />I figure it will at least make cleaning the litter box interesting in the next couple of days.Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704916453841215332noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27163849.post-27741696002601064342009-12-12T21:52:00.004-06:002009-12-12T22:20:24.116-06:00Perhaps Adding A Festive Disco Ball?It's ten o'clock p.m and I'm finally cozying down after a productive day of finishing up the majority of the painting, laying the stair runner, and doing a little holiday decorating.<br /><br />And now I'm listening to my rock star neighbor.<br /><br />By rock star, I'm referring to the throbbing synthetic beat that comes pulsing through our house every evening as he practices on whatever type of drum set that he recently acquired. He has yet to entertain scantily clad groupies or pass out on his front lawn after baying at the moon until 2 a.m, but if that starts to happen, I'm going to investigate. The music might be horrible but hey, perhaps a few proffered beers could keep me from calling the cops?<br /><br />I feel like I'm in a gay club on Fire Island in the 80's...<br /><br />And the ambiance of our neighborhood is certainly down with a rockin' club with an ever so white 30-something skinny boy laying down the beats. I know he appreciates the fact that I do my best in getting funky; why just a half an hour ago I walked the dogs half way around the block before I realized I had my pajamas on.<br /><br />Perhaps I'll gather a posse of women in black suits with ear pieces and Matrix sunglasses and we'll put up a velvet rope in front of his house.<br /><br />If you're on the list? You're golden!<br /><br />And if you're out walking your dog with your pajamas on? Keep moving baby...Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704916453841215332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27163849.post-73708536505915850822009-12-11T05:09:00.001-06:002009-12-11T14:46:25.141-06:00Before And AfterMany years ago, I listened to readings from "<a href="http://metapsychology.mentalhelp.net/poc/view_doc.php?type=book&id=207&cn=389">The Disappearance</a>" by Genevieve Jurgensen on <a href="http://www.thislife.org/">This American Life</a>. It was on an episode called "<a href="http://www.thislife.org/Radio_Episode.aspx?sched=792">Where Words Fail</a>". I purchased the book, read it, and placed it back on my book shelf.<br /><br />I used to have a lot of books but now? Not so much. I recycle books. I find them in odd places and pass them along when I'm done.<br /><br />Except for a few. The books that I have kept are littered with marginalia and underlined passages. I have a couple of index card files filled with quotes that I have copied down, words and phrases that roll around in my head and heart.<br /><br />I never realized that The Disappearance had a subtitle until I pulled it off the shelf yesterday. "A Primer of Loss".<br /><br />Sometimes, the things we need most are right there in our hands.Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704916453841215332noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27163849.post-76469744703471037832009-12-10T05:16:00.001-06:002009-12-10T06:44:32.720-06:00Oh Tukufu, Only You Would UnderstandDear <a href="http://www.pbs.org/opb/historydetectives/about/tukufu.html">Tukufu Zuberi</a>,<br />I need a little help and I'm thinking that only you will understand.<br /><br />See, I'm getting close to calling my remodeling project good. It's been a really long and awful year and this place? This place is a different place than it was last December. This place has been reclaimed. This place has been renamed. This place has been turned upside down, shaken, stirred, fluffed, and straightened.<br /><br />And even though it doesn't mean anything to anyone but me, once the paint is dry and the carpet is down on the stairs, I will be performing a <a href="http://www.ehow.com/how_2181048_perform-smudging-ritual.html">smudging ceremony</a>. This goes down a lot easier with my hippie bon vivant than getting a priest in here for an exorcism. (Then again, having a priest in here might add a little <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IsQRZ4TsljI">nom</a> to the larder.)<br /><br />But Tukufu? I want to add a little something for the next people that live here. Or perhaps the next, next, next people that live here. Something that might not be discovered for a long time but would be neat to find when you're remodeling a house.<br /><br />That's where your expertise comes into play. Out of all of the History Detectives, I think you and I would come up with similar ideas. <a href="http://www.pbs.org/opb/historydetectives/about/elyse.html">Elyse</a>? I think Elyse would stand in our house and be quietly judgemental. She would be all smiling and charming and in the back of her mind, she would be thinking "I'll bet they got those drapes at a two for one sale at Wal-Mart." <a href="http://www.pbs.org/opb/historydetectives/about/wes.html">Wes</a>? Wes and his lisp would try to find something from the Civil War in my attic, all the while I'd be offering up feeble protests that really Wes? This house isn't THAT old. And <a href="http://www.pbs.org/opb/historydetectives/about/gwen.html">Gwen</a>? I would have to offer Gwen some calcium supplements and a glass of milk before I could even begin to listen to her theories on how a gang of drunken monkeys managed to build this house. I could snap Gwen like a twig (and I will if I'm ever forced to).<br /><br />But you Tukufu? You would come into my house in your fabulous hat, with your gentleman's swagger and you would look me in the eye as I told you my story. When I wrapped it up, you would shake your head and say softly, "Maaaaaaaaan. That is <span style="font-style: italic;">screwed</span> up!"<br /><br />And then you would come up with some beautiful quote or great story and you would scribble it down on a sheet of paper and we would slip it under the carpet runner on the stairs.<br /><br />Just a little note for posterity. Just a little wave from the past.Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704916453841215332noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27163849.post-27163452178577809622009-12-09T06:29:00.003-06:002009-12-09T06:57:57.928-06:00Laying Down The LawThere are times when I just need to lay down the law with myself.<br /><br />Myself can be quite the handful.<br /><br />I need to finish painting the actual stairs (as opposed to the abstract stairs???).<br /><br />It wouldn't take too long and I'd really like to be able to lay the carpet runner this weekend, it's just that I have zero tolerance for much of anything once I get home from work. Dinner? Dogs? Vegetating on the sofa? Check.<br /><br />Anything productive? Uncheck.<br /><br />So I'm going to tell myself that I'm going to meet a friend and go to <a href="http://www.bentleyvilleusa.org/">Bentleyville </a>on Thursday night. I really do want to go and she has a small child. Holiday lights are no fun unless seen through the unjaded eyes of a child. Me? I would no doubt spend two seconds admiring the lights and two hours wondering just how many hours you need to burn those lights to hasten the utter destruction of the habitat of the polar bears.<br /><br />"See that cute light display with the funny polar bears Johnny? Well, admire them now cuz the real ones are drowning as we speak!"<br /><br />Yeah, I can be rented out to kids parties to tone down any level of frivolity. I do believe I am known as a "wet blanket".<br /><br />But if I go with a child I'll keep my damn mouth shut. I'll be able to see the lights as they were intended. My sarcasm will be held in check.<br /><br />In other words, I will behave.<br /><br />AND it will force me to realize that if I don't paint the stairs tonight, I won't be able to do it again until Friday and that is when I need to do the final touch ups with the other color on the stairs.<br /><br />I am holding myself up against the wall and shaking a finger in my face.<br /><br />PAINT, DAMN YOU! PAINT TONIGHT!Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704916453841215332noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27163849.post-87737587015377117612009-12-08T05:06:00.000-06:002009-12-08T05:06:00.880-06:00You've Knitted This One Back TogetherI love my local <a href="http://www.yarnharborduluth.com/">yarn shop</a>. Every Sunday I go there for a little high fiber therapy.<br /><br />There are usually ten or so that come nearly every Sunday and as one person noted last Sunday, "I don't come here for the knitting."<br /><br />During the last year, I had many individual friends that helped me through the worst year of my life. A couple even knew the code phrase that I would occasionally force myself to admit "I need to be among the living today."<br /><br />I'm not one to run around and threaten to blow my brains out and be the drama queen. I'm not one to look another person in the eye and say "Please hold my hands for the next five minutes so that I won't do something to hurt myself." I had my code phrase and there were a couple people who knew exactly what I meant.<br /><br />There were times when going out on a Sunday was a chore. It would have been easier to crawl back in bed. It would have been easier to have a pity party. But I knew what I needed in my heart of hearts. I needed to be in a crowd of people that talked about their kids and their spouses (although that was always a painful thing) and their jobs and the reasons why they got out of bed everyday. I needed to stand next to their bright glow and try to feel a little warmth.<br /><br />There were times when I didn't even knit. Having whatever causes my joints to be stiff and painful usually only allows me to knit a couple times a week and if I was having a bad hand day, I would go to just sit. There were times when I was glad that I didn't have to contribute to the conversation because I would have just started to cry like a baby.<br /><br />I just needed to recharge my batteries with the wonderful women who perhaps don't even know how wonderful they are.<br /><br />Many of them showed up to the sentencing and I think a couple might have even had their knitting out. (For all her faults, <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Madame_Defarge">Madame DeFarge</a> has always been my secret fascination.)<br /><br />The knitting part of my brain has been in such a fog for such a long time that whenever I do knit, it is brainless scarves and simple sweaters. Certainly nothing that requires an ounce of gray matter.<br /><br />But Sunday? Sunday I went in and saw the "retro" Dale of Norway trunk show. (For the non-knitters here, a trunk show is a bunch of knitted up items from an artist or a company and they are usually trying to entice you to buy their patterns or yarn or whatever.) They even have a book out of "retro" patterns that is beautiful.<br /><br />But there are a few hitches here.<br /><br />I've been knitting out of my tiny little stash for nearly a year now. The yarn that I have purchased for a sweater has been the less than stellar stuff but I'm ok with that. I wasn't looking for a sweater, I was looking for something that I could make for myself, something to comfort myself. It is the fiber equivalent of a chocolate sundae. I made the sweater and everything worked out just fine.<br /><br />The retro book is full of patterns that I actually have equivalents at home in the "original" books. I just need to rewrite them a little to make them more "convenient".<br /><br />The yarn? As much as I love Dale of Norway sweaters, I hate their yarn! A big part of yarn for me is how it feels in my hands when I'm using it and their yarn is "squeaky".<br /><br />Don't ask. I can't explain.<br /><br />So on Sunday, I splurged and bought a couple skeins of the cheapest yarn there. It is not all wool but I can make it work.<br /><br />And I looked at the retro book.<br /><br />And I looked at the sweaters.<br /><br />And something in my brain went, "hmmmmmm. I can do that!"<br /><br />So now I have cast on for a sweater that I'm writing half the pattern for and using a couple other patterns from a book from 1946 for ideas.<br /><br />Maybe, just maybe, the fog is starting to lift.Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704916453841215332noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27163849.post-67158485699178464662009-12-07T06:13:00.005-06:002009-12-07T10:02:34.341-06:00Attack Of The Killer ReindeerSo, this is supposed to be the season of giving right? The season when we all embrace our fellow man/woman/pets and say "Yes, I know that I treat you like shit 345 days a year but hey, 'tis the season!"<br /><br />Well somebody needs to sprinkle that fairy dust around this place because someone has failed to tell the pets.<br /><br />The dogs are having a snit with each other, the cats are having a snit with each other and occasionally a dog/cat combination will have words. Thankfully, both dogs don't throw their weight around when it comes to the cats, they just look at them in puzzlement as the cats hiss and slap them across the face.<br /><br />Perhaps it was the full moon last week?<br /><br />I'm working with my "personal dog trainer" (Hey Amy, it makes BOTH of us sound posh!) on the Shuggie issue.<br /><br />Problem: Dog has been a rat bastard.<br /><br />More complete problem: Dog has become possessive of his food and will lash out at Kirby if Kirby gets too close while he is eating. While they romp and play rough, I can always tell that they are playing. This though? This is wild eyes and snapping teeth and growling.<br /><br />Last night though, in the midst of their running around the house and playing, Kirby jumped on Shuggie's back and how shall I say it? "Assumed the position"?<br /><br />Shuggie might be acting like a rat bastard but Kirby has always been the "cool jazz"dog that will quietly make his point.<br /><br />I had a mental image of a hillbilly prison guard with a billy club, entering the cell of a non compliant inmate: "You wanna screw with muh food boyh? Let me tell you what we do with your kind around here..."<br /><br />Yeah, I've got the house all spiffed up and pretty, just in time for it all to go prison gay.<br /><br />And the cats? The scrawny cat whom we affectionately refer to as Gollum cannot enter a room without walking up to the fluffy fat cat and hissing and smacking him upside the head. Of course, that just makes the fluffy cat roll over on his stomach and give his best "But really? How can you hate something as ADORABLE as me????" Gollum also goes into high end hissy fit anytime she walks into any room and finds that she is not the only pet.<br /><br />Can you guess which pet in this house used to be an only pet?<br /><br />So, I started taking steps to alleviate the food issues this morning. I moved the dog bowls further apart and stayed in the kitchen to monitor the "mess hall" during breakfast. If needed, I will bring my sidearm and my kung fu moves.<br /><br />And perhaps, just perhaps, a little of the testosterone was drained away last night for Kirby (unfortunately NOT the one who needs it most). As we went for our evening walk, we passed a neighbor's house who has a lit up animatronic reindeer. Kirby was extremely wary of it as we started to walk by, growling just a little bit, sticking right by my side...and then it moved.<br /><br />The hardest thing was getting him to actually keep walking as he was having an absolutely hysterical shit fit and I was laughing so hard I almost peed my pants.<br /><br />Shuggie just watched us and wondered to himself "And these are the idiots who are trying to steal my food????"Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704916453841215332noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27163849.post-17902840507944579252009-12-05T05:19:00.000-06:002009-12-05T05:41:04.485-06:00Note Left In An Empty Paint Can By The CurbPainted in the bathroom Thursday night.<br /><br />Painted in the bathroom Friday night.<br /><br />Painting in the living room Saturday.<br /><br />Painting will be done soon.<br /><br />Send cheese and Triscuts.<br /><br />And perhaps another bottle of <a href="http://www.winelegacy.com/ItemDetail.aspx?Item_ID=361">wine</a>.Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704916453841215332noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27163849.post-34011059362841937682009-12-04T04:03:00.002-06:002009-12-04T06:11:40.722-06:00There's a Test Tomorrow??? What??? I CAN'T HEAR YOU!!!So here's the plan. Gather 'round everyone. Stand in a circle so their quarterback won't read our signals...<br /><br />I tell the college that I am disabled somehow. Probably deaf as the fact that I drove there to sign up for classes yesterday was a dead giveaway that I can see.<br /><br />So, I tell them that I am deaf and thus need to bring a translator with me to my one class that I am taking on campus: Algebra.<br /><br />I then bring my son to every class with me.<br /><br />My son that gets straight A's in everything.<br /><br />Especially math.<br /><br />The benefits will be twofold: I won't have to answer any questions in class because I will be sure to lay the gutteral utterances on especially thick, and I will have a human powered calculator sitting next to me who will not only be able to answer my questions RIGHT NOW but who will also be able to load up the blow gun and shoot me in the jugular with curare if I get too out of hand.<br /><br />So, if you think this is a good idea, make sure to start talking to me in a most animated way, gesture a lot, and play it reeeeaaaaaallll cool.<br /><br />I'm thinking I'd better brush up on my sign language though. The only communication I know how to do with my hands involves the middle finger and I'm thinking I shouldn't flash that on the first night of class.Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704916453841215332noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27163849.post-90978413137719107682009-12-03T05:09:00.001-06:002009-12-03T05:09:01.030-06:00Low FidelityEveryday I check to see if I’m divorced yet.<br /><br />I can sense it. It is getting closer and closer.<br /><br />Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus and he will be pulled in his sleigh by eight lawyers. The team will be led by a red nosed judge, lighting the way through the fog of legalese.<br /><br />The biggest holiday gift would be a divorce by December 19th, the anniversary of the beginning of the end. I’d also happily accept a divorce by Christmas.<br /><br />You know, cuz I have so much SAY in the matter.<br /><br />It’s kind of interesting though. I find myself surrounded by many people who have been commenting on the current Tiger Woods drama and they all seem to be of the mind that “Of course he’s cheating. When you marry a celebrity and you live in the big house with all the diamonds and riches, infidelity is the price you pay for living the high life.”<br /><br />So, I’m wondering what their excuse is when a normal average joe/jane cheats? When a person isn’t surrounded by beautiful people telling them that they walk on water and there are no crowds of people throwing themselves at the person, when it is an anonymous act of infidelity, is that ok with them too?<br /><br />I’m really not the person to lay that out on the table as I’m trying not to let the freak flag fly too high. What I feel and frankly, what they feel, is irrelevant. Infidelity comes down to the three (or four or ten or two hundred) people involved.<br /><br />But my ideas on fidelity seem to be old fashioned. You’re married? Screw away! Chase the skirts, chase the suits, chase any willing human being down and screw them till your blind because being married DOESN’T MATTER.<br /><br />So then, I propose (pardon the pun), why get married in the first place?<br /><br />Speaking from the other side, from someone who doesn’t subscribe to the whole infidelity schtick, why would someone put up with a spouse that is unfaithful? I can’t wrap my head around one slip up but I know that perhaps, just perhaps, I’m a bit out of the norm there. OK, your spouse cheated on you and you took them back. Did you at least go to counseling? Did you at least try to figure out why? Or did you just push it under the rug and pretend that it didn’t happen. When you lie in bed with your spouse, do you feel like you’re sharing it with all their recent conquests?<br /><br />But then, they cheat again. And you take them back. Again.<br /><br />Now I’m getting really confused.<br /><br />I just don’t understand the mentality.<br /><br />But then again? I’d be the screaming meemie swinging the golf club at 2 a.m.Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704916453841215332noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27163849.post-74422335726366917922009-12-02T04:28:00.002-06:002009-12-02T06:45:22.494-06:00From The Mental Mail BagDear ITunes:<br /><br />Pardon me but I didn't get the memo, you know, the one that told your customers that you were offering a new service? I'd like to personally thank you for wiping my 80 gig Ipod when I synched it last night. I understand that you must hold a great concern for those 399 podcasts that were cluttering up my device and yes, I guess I really didn't need those movies, especially the ones that I purchased from Itunes. Thanks for having my back!<br /><br />Sincerely,<br /><br />Your Customer With A Very Expensive Doorstop<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">**********************************************************************************<br /></div><br />Dear waiter at the Duluth restaurant with the great steak fries:<br /><br />Sweetheart, I have no idea what the heck your gig was tonight but just because I was dining alone doesn't mean I was lonely. I timed you. Coming up to check on me every 4.5 minutes was a bit excessive. Standing guard across the dining room and boring holes into my forehead with your attentively creepy stare was a bit trying as well. And at the end of the meal? When you told me "My night was <span style="font-style: italic;">far</span> more interesting since you were here", I actually stopped in my tracks and gave you my best "perplexed vulcan with one raised eyebrow" look. Since you didn't even look old enough to be working at a bar I very nearly reached over and patted you on top of the head and asked you about your Lego collection. Allow me to introduce myself...I was the half of the equation that DIDN'T get off on children.<br /><br />Sincerely,<br /><br />So Not A Cougar<br /><br />**********************************************************************************<br /><br />Dear WDSE (PBS Duluth) :<br /><br />It must be pledge week! All the shittiest of shows are on.<br />Frankly, I think <span style="font-style: italic;">you</span> owe <span style="font-style: italic;">me</span> money.<br /><br />Sincerely,<br /><br />Not Amused<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">**********************************************************************************<br /></div><br />Dear Woman I Ate Lunch With:<br /><br />Really? So, any intelligent woman would know that her husband is a cheater before they got married?<br /><br />Really?<br /><br />I very nearly blurted out "And does that go for pedophilia too?"<br /><br />But we were at a full table and I thought that might be a bit of a conversation stopper.<br /><br />Actually, I thought it might be a bit of a conversation starter...and you would tell me how stupid I was...and then I'd have to take you out to the parking lot where you would proceed to whip my ass seven ways till Sunday.<br /><br />Yeah. I kept all niiiiiiice and quiet.<br /><br />*<span style="font-size:78%;">bitch</span>*<br /><br />Sincerely,<br /><br />Your silent companion<br /><br />**********************************************************************************<br /><br />Dear Neighbor:<br /><br />I apologize for saying hello this morning at 5:20 a.m.<br />It didn't occur to me that you were trying to be covert. It didn't even dawn on me that a person lurking in the shadows of her own house in her housecoat, waiting for the dog to do her business, wouldn't want to carry on a conversation with yours truly.<br /><br />I am, after all, at my most charming in the wee hours of the morning.<br /><br />Charming, but a bit thick.<br /><br />You really needn't run in the opposite direction or clutch the neck of your robe in fright.<br /><br />I promise, I'll never speak to you in the morning again.<br /><br />Sincerely,<br /><br />Your Two Inch Tall NeighborDebbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704916453841215332noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27163849.post-40861749380272411582009-12-01T06:13:00.003-06:002009-12-01T06:43:31.789-06:00I Teach Home Repair Clinics At Home Depot, Stop By For Some PointersI think my standards must be just a little too high. That's what I'm telling myself anyway.<br /><br />I mean, why would one expect that when their windows are "finished" and the guy hands you the tube from the caulk gun and says "there's still some left so you might as well have this", I mean, why would I assume that was code talk for "I caulked one side of the window and now it's late and I'm really done here so if you want to finish off that 1/2 gap that goes all around your window? Use this caulk."<br /><br />Really?<br /><br />Really??<br /><br />So after coming home with a migraine a little early yesterday and getting just a little toasted on headache drugs, I proceeded to finish off the window after the window guy left. Needless to say, this morning dawned to the apparent evidence that my second career as a window finisher might not be the best option. Was it a bad thing that I used a half a tube of toothpaste when I ran out of caulk? It was the kind that sparkles! (When it comes to home decoration, I am ON FIRE!)<br /><br />Also? My career as a curtain hanger might not be the best choice either. I did hang a set of curtains in the window of my kitchen that has not had a set of curtains since we moved here fifteen some odd years ago. It had a shade. An awful shade.<br /><br />The shades in this house came in three different categories: Awful, dreadful, and DEAR SWEET JESUS WHAT WERE THEY THINKING?????<br /><br />Anyway, not having a drill makes hanging curtains a challenge. Oh, STBX had a drill but it was sitting with his other tools, in a puddle of water in the garage, totally rusted out and disgusting.<br />This means that I end up putting the screws in the wall by hand. It involves the liberal application of profanity and hand strength, only one of which I have in abundance. (If you guessed hand strength, you haven't been around here much, have you?)<br /><br />After fighting with the screws for awhile, then the hammer comes out. Very little in life can't be mitigated by the application of a hammer. It's good at making pilot holes, it's good at getting attention when you're drunk at a party, and it's good at breaking down the skull bones when you are desperately trying to hide a human head .<br /><br />But I digress.<br /><br />So my kitchen now has a real curtain. Unfortunately, I need to return the curtains and get shorter ones for the bedroom as I was sort of guestimating at their length. (Rumor has it, there are these highly sophisticated instruments called "measuring tapes" that "professionals" use to actually find out the length of whatever they need.<br /><br />Yeah, sounds like voodoo to me to. I think it's a right wing conspiracy to make us hippies out to be inept at home repair or something.Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704916453841215332noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27163849.post-12829581168996815502009-11-30T06:09:00.003-06:002009-11-30T06:28:58.268-06:00Perhaps Quasimodo Just Needed A Good Pair Of CurtainsI desperately need to hang up my curtains.<br /><br />If you were to poll my neighbors, I'm guessing that they would feel the same way.<br /><br />Since Home Depot, in its infinite wisdom, failed to dot all their I's on the work order for my window, the window guy needs to come back today and finish the job. Thus, I am waiting on hanging my curtains.<br /><br />As a matter of fact, the shades that once hung in my bedroom (circa 1970?) no longer fit the window. DAMN! And they looked so "retro" and "cool".<br /><br />Jinkies Thelma! I'm thinking Old Man Hanson needs to get some new curtains!<br /><br />As I was moving my bed away from the window and taking down the shades for the window guys to come, I looked down to find the hopefully last bastion of anything to do with STBX. His dusty dress shoes that were tucked under the bed.<br /><br />I threw them, along with the old shades, onto the floor and proceeded to have a lengthy conversation with all three of them. I stopped when I realized the cat was staring at me with all the wisdom that cats have. Yes, he finally realized his owner was insane.<br /><br />If talking to the shoes weren't bad enough, I've also taken to slinking around the house, trying to duck down low enough so that I'm not on display for all the neighbors to see.<br /><br />Not being normally paranoid, I spent yesterday painting in my living room with all of the curtains taken down in there as well. As night fell and I finally stopped painting, I went upstairs to take a shower and had to beware of that window. I then went into my bedroom and flicked the light on long enough to orient myself and then flicked it off so I wouldn't feel like the Old North Church.<br /><br />Then when I went downstairs in the morning, I stood in the middle of the living room again and finally resigned myself to feeling like an animal in the zoo.<br /><br />All I know is that I have developed a decided hunch in my back from trying to go undetected around here.<br /><br />Tonight? There will be curtains. Tomorrow? Perhaps a visit to the chiropractor.Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704916453841215332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27163849.post-17974339695385908252009-11-27T08:45:00.003-06:002009-11-27T15:42:37.526-06:00Puppy PulmonologyIt was evident that there were issues within the first few hours of bringing Kirby home from the shelter, some sort of bronchial spasm I’m guessing.<br /><br />I went directly from the shelter to Petco to outfit him with a new leash and a bowl and as we wandered the aisles, he started wheezing with a noise I can only equate to a constipated elephant trying to, how shall I put this delicately, clear the chute?<br /><br />The leash from the shelter was basically the cheapest form of clothes line and I can’t begin to tell you the self esteem boost I got when I was walking around Petco with my wheezing dog on a white trash clothes line.<br /><br />“Hey lady, I think you need a better leash,” was the verbatim sentence I got from three different customers.<br /><br />I fought the urge to say “No shit Sherlock, I’ll bet you work for CSI Duluth.” I explained that we were fresh from the shelter and I was at Petco precisely for that purpose.<br /><br />The thing is, he wasn’t really straining against the leash. He just started making the horrible constipated elephant sound as we were walking around. He didn’t stop in his tracks, he didn’t act distressed, he just kept on going. He was the elderly male neighbor that comes out onto his porch every morning with that hacking smokers cough that you desperately wish would JUST WEAR A SASH ON THAT HOUSECOAT! Either that, or realize that a ratty old housecoat over your naked withered body that is allowed to flap in the breeze is what is known as BEING A FLASHER.<br /><br />Ahem.<br /><br />In other words, he was seemingly oblivious.<br /><br />I mentioned the elephantine condition to the vet when I took him in for his post-shelter visit and she looked him over and said that yes, perhaps he has some sort of respiratory spasms but since he looked healthy and sounded good, it probably wasn’t anything to worry about.<br /><br />Since then, he has only had a couple incidences of the wheezing, both times when straining on his leash.<br /><br />Until about 3 a.m this morning that is.<br /><br />That’s when I was awoken by the elephantine ruckus directly in my right ear.<br /><br />He usually sleeps next to me and I’m assuming that’s where he was all night but for some reason, he became discombobulated during the night. Perhaps he was sleeping with his head in an unusual position but after he calmed down and stopped wheezing, he started again when we went on our morning walk.<br /><br />It didn’t last for more than a minute but I’m finding it troubling. Even if I could afford a vet visit, if he isn’t actively wheezing, what are they going to do? X-rays? Bronchoscope? Nebulizer treatment with a big cone shaped mask?<br /><br />So far I’m just going with the good old treatment of calmly rubbing his throat and snuggling with him when it happens. I suppose I can run a hot steamy shower if it gets too prolonged and have him rest in the closed off bathroom.<br /><br />I’m hoping that it’s just a passing thing but any other “natural” treatment ideas would be appreciated.<br /><br />*Added Later: I just found out what it is! Thanks be to the interweb! It is called "<a href="http://books.google.com/books?id=1UCOeQcgupQC&pg=PT346&lpg=PT346&dq=reverse+sneezing+in+corgis&source=bl&ots=9BDObZW_Ho&sig=fh7jMWBe0OF4hbApvPK2h4nO1jQ&hl=en&ei=1UYQS9SPJYuCnQe_rInOAw&sa=X&oi=book_result&ct=result&resnum=2&ved=0CA0Q6AEwATgK#v=onepage&q=reverse%20sneezing%20in%20corgis&f=false">reverse sneezing</a>" but really is just a laryngospasm. It's more common in Corgis and Beagles and rubbing the throat is one of the cures!<br /><br />I'll be jiggered.Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704916453841215332noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27163849.post-18119608533624239362009-11-26T14:29:00.005-06:002009-11-26T14:54:38.163-06:00Philosophical Meanderings While Making DinnerI believe life is to be learned from.<br /><br />I believe it is human nature to formulate and perpetuate whichever myths support your personal outlook on the world.<br /><br />I believe my myths are neither superior nor inferior to the myths I am surrounded by.<br /><br />I believe some people call them myths, I believe some people call them religions.<br /><br />I believe that some people call them shit.<br /><br />I believe that none of us really know now, do we?<br /><br />I believe that the concept of unknowing makes a lot of people uncomfortable.<br /><br />I believe people that are strident and militant in their beliefs make <span style="font-style: italic;">me</span> uncomfortable.<br /><br />I believe I have been here before.<br /><br />I believe I will be here again.<br /><br />I believe that when we die, for a brief and shining moment, we know all the answers in the universe.<br /><br />I believe we will understand the reason for the existence of the cockroach.<br /><br />I believe we will understand the depth and breadth of the suffering and the goodness that exists in every person.<br /><br />And then, I believe, that knowledge is taken from us.<br /><br />If you have led a noble life, a good life, you will be granted access to that knowledge. It will be lurking beneath your spleen, playing peek-a-boo behind your liver and common bile duct. It will exists within you and you will, at some point, realize it. You will have the ability to quiet your mind and listen to the voices of the universe. You will realize that it is more important to be still than to shout. You will realize that the universe is very large and you are very tiny. You will realize that there are so many things to learn and never enough lifetimes to remember it all.<br /><br />If your existence has been more like the wake of a hurricane and, as you look over your shoulder you see the wreckage that you have left by the machinations of your choices, you will lose <span style="font-style: italic;">all</span> that knowledge when you come around again. You will live your next life like you lived your last life. There will be pain and turmoil and you will be screaming at the blackened cosmos, all alone.<br /><br />It is the examined life that breaks the cycle. It is the realization that we are but pebbles being thrown into a pond. You ripple back to me, I ripple back to you.<br /><br />I believe I have been here before. I believe I will be here again.<br /><br />I am thankful for the ability to listen, learn, love, hope, and trust.<br /><br />And I am thankful for all my other pebbles in the pond.<br /><br />They are all so beautiful.Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704916453841215332noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27163849.post-61572875800149982362009-11-25T15:22:00.001-06:002009-11-25T15:31:49.891-06:00The Ghost Of Books PastDear <a href="http://www.amazon.com/">Amazon</a>:<br /><br />Stop it. Just stop it.<br /><br />Stop with all the automatic recommendations!<br /><br />While you may think that you are being helpful, you are not.<br /><br />Yes, I did order that Harry Potter book in Spanish five hundred years ago.<br /><br />Yes, I do check out your low low prices on knitting books.<br /><br />Yes, I did order that book on “keeping your shit together when you are a non offending parent”<br /><br />Yes, I did order that book on sexual addiction.<br /><br />But STOP WITH THE RECOMMENDATIONS ALREADY!<br /><br />I am not interested in knitting books for incarcerated offenders with sex addiction problems written in Spanish!<br /><br />JUST STOP!Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704916453841215332noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-27163849.post-31891190462759049602009-11-25T04:21:00.001-06:002009-11-25T06:06:51.597-06:00There Will Be Roast BeastFor awhile, my version of Thanksgiving was going to be bowls of cereal while watching tv in our footie pj's.<br /><br />Completely low maintenance.<br /><br />Then I decided to splurge on a <a href="http://www.farmerdoug.com/index.htm">chicken</a> from the Farmer's Market. Roasted paprika chicken with Parmesan potato rounds is always a favorite.<br /><br />And the boy asked for pie. It is the ONLY time of year when the boy wants pie.<br /><br />Little did he know, I am a former test pilot for Sara Lee.<br /><br />Sara Lee pumpkin pie it is. For him and only him.<br /><br />Then I realized how much I enjoy cranberry orange relish. I wish I could buy 40 individual cranberries because I am the only one who will eat it.<br /><br />Me. Only me.<br /><br />That's a lot of relish.<br /><br />After going to the farmers market and grocery store, I ducked into the bottle shop because I wanted to treat myself to a bottle of wine for the mini festivities.<br /><br />The best thing that the booze emporium does is to have a dude standing there behind the mobile mini bar with open bottles of wine.<br /><br />One of my favorite indulgences is to flip on the radio early in the morning on the weekend and listen to <a href="http://splendidtable.publicradio.org/">The Splendid Table</a>. I will listen to the <a href="http://splendidtable.publicradio.org/souptonuts/wine.html">wine guy</a> and I will make a groggy note on his "cheap but good" picks and then I will go to the booze emporium and stand bewildered.<br /><br />I will then pick out the wine with the most entertaining label or the funniest name cuz who has the brain space to remember all that expert advice shit?<br /><br />That is why I love the wine dude at the booze emporium. I can give him my robotic answers and he will let me taste the wine of the day.<br /><br />One of these days I will just go through the whole line and do shooters of wine and then leave without buying anything. Kind of like visiting my <a href="http://doingduluthmn.blogspot.com/2009/07/this-post-smells-deeeelicious.html">expensive perfume</a>.<br /><br />But not this time. He asked all the right questions to determine that yes, I was trailer trash with a very unrefined <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2239/2265340125_43211005b7.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 260px; height: 351px;" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2239/2265340125_43211005b7.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>palate and I would be totally happy with purple kool aid spiked with vodka.<br /><br />He then let me sample my sweet fruity wine.<br /><br />I agreed that it was delicious and said "GIMME A BOTTLE".<br /><br />He then paused and asked if I would be offended by the name<br /><br />He quickly flashed me the label.<br /><br />"Damn son!" I informed him. "That's what I get called on a good day!"<br /><br />The bottle was for Thanksgiving.<br /><br />Unfortunately, the bottle is now gone.<br /><br />Thankfully, I did realize that a bottle of wine does not have to be considered "single serving size".<br /><br />That's why it took me two whole nights to finish it.<br /><br />Now I need to figure out what to drink with my chicken on Thanksgiving Day.<br /><br />Got any purple kool aid and vodka?Debbiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00704916453841215332noreply@blogger.com2