Category Archives: Uncategorized

SoCS-Reservation

Funny this is the Stream of Conscious Saturday post prompt. (I reserve the right to spell it out and not put #SoCS. See what I did there? 😁 ) I have to make reservations for my birthday as oh my gawsh I am stressing out.

It is not so much that it is my birthday or even that it is in a couple of month. I am scrambling so hard to figure out how to make it work. People think I am silly when it comes to planning a trip. But jeez! So much to do! The dogs, the kids, the house sitter, the contingency money for the house, the mail, the paper. That is all before we leave home! Not to mention the car, the flight. The … wait … OH YEAH! The reservations!!!!

I really gotta go. I have my own reservations about making this so short, however, how about reading another post and leaving a thoughtful comment? It would be greatly appreciated. Also, don’t be so reserved in your comments. I accept any comment and will reply … within reason. Haha.

Have a great Saturday!

As always, what do YOU think?

This short post is brought to you by Stream of Consciousness Saturday. Click the following link to check out all the other posts (which you can find in the comments) and join in! It’s fun! https://lindaghill.com/2018/06/15/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-june-16-18/

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Pigeon Preventers And The Hangry Cats

My new favorite dog blog!

It's a Dog's Life

This week’s Guest Blogger: Everyone Has the Best Titles

I am very grateful to feature an adventure of our favorite resident of Maine, mainepaperpusher, her dogs Walter and Greta, and other critters.    

Pigeon Preventers And The Hangry Cats

IMG_6030 Enter a Echo and Lily doing what they do best!caption

One might think that keeping cat food where it should be would be an easy task. Even with dogs in the house, most people are quite successful in keeping their cats well-fed and happy. Our cats, however, are food insecure. When I first heard the term “hangry” I thought of my cats. Putting the words ‘hungry’ and ‘angry’ together was brilliant and a perfect way to describe what my poor felines felt about their disappearing meals and the dog burglar who committed these crimes. You’ve heard of cat burglars? Leave it to us to have a dog burglar. His name is…

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The Beach Has Eyes

Last week Dear Hubby and I took a walk through the city. We happened by a 5-gallon bucket that seemed to have something in it. Sitting in the border of a lot that belonged to the city and the sidewalk, we peered inside. It was approximately 1/3 full of clear water. There were several pennies, a couple dimes, and an handful of goldfish. We don’t know how long it had been there. I made a comment in passing that they were not going to live in that bucket very long. DH tapped the bucket with the toe of his boot and exclaimed “But they are alive!” To prove his point he did the same again. (Mind you, I almost wrote “kicked the bucket” but that would have been funny and sad at the same time….ah, but I digress.)

We continued our walk and I couldn’t help but to think about those poor goldfish. They were in prison! They even had money! Just….wow. Oh I had a great post to write about it but that inspiration was gone by the time I had an opportunity to write.

Today, we walk by the same place and there is something new. It would have been hard to write about. (Unfortunately, my laptop went to techie heaven and I am composing on my phone.) Ergo here is a picture:

For those of us who have seen the movie, you can see the amusement this brings. Further, it is in the city so there are no hills. Although, there are a lot of strange southern folk around here. Being in the Deep South, there are people around here who have never been out of this county!

Just sharing a little humor from our walk…

What do YOU think?

Do You Feel Like a Stop Sign?

Today is my mother’s birthday. She is officially an Octogenarian….or however you say it. I called her this morning and asked her if she felt like one yet? I mean, it must be an honor right? Personally, I aspire to live as long as possible. Do I emulate that in my daily habits? No. Honestly, though. My mother smoke. She drank. She spent hundreds of thousands of hours inhaling second hand smoke in bingo halls and sitting in the same room as my father when he smoked his Vantage cigarettes.

And here she is…80. Quite an amazing feat to say the least. She is still living on her own. She drives herself. She travels. She does all the things a younger woman does. Certainly not anyone or many of anyone who are 80. Gosh I love that woman. She is nowhere near perfect but she is my mom.

On top of turning 80 this year, she has buried two of her children. No easy feat for someone her age. In the last decade, not only did one of her sons pass away in her living room. She watched my father collapse in the same living room…on more than one occasion. Talk about you don’t want to walk a mile in her shoes. For the frosting on the cake? She also buried one of her sisters. She certainly is one tough cookie. I admire her for that. This is why it was not funny (but it was) when I asked her if she felt like a stop sign yet. “Yo Mom, tell me, do you feel like a stop sign yet?”

If I were her, I would have seriously said yes. I mean it. NO MORE! Can ya dig? I can only hope the next decade brings her joy and happiness.

And Bingo. Lots and lots of Bingo.  HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!!!!

What do YOU think?

My Furry Children and Work

We have four dogs in our family right now. There have only been two instances where they were not lifelong family members. Those two instances were not long enough to have a detrimental effect on neither me or the dog. No worries there, folks. I was watching a program on television this morning where a Chihuahua was rehomed to a lady who had a stroke and didn’t want a service dog. She wanted a companion and it was a good show. It made me think about the relationships I have had with my furry children over the years. Each one was special and different in it’s own way. The same is with the furry children we currently have.

Of course each one has their own story. Our Roxie, for example. She is officially our “old girl.” She was brought to us at 3 months old already housebroken and with all the accessories. Cal had wanted a Jack Russell and a friend of mine knew someone who had purchased one and didn’t think she was a good fit with their toddler. So we took her in and she has been amazing. Now nearly blind and half deaf, she is still spunky and prefers to lean on you compared to most lapdog or other touchy feely stuff. It works for us and her favorite person in the house is the 9 year old. He is the only one she doesn’t randomly warn about invading her space. (Yes, we are the invisibubble type of people here. Ah, but I digress… a story for another day. Our next oldest is Mollie. Mollie was a neighbors dog and I asked to have her when they became too busy to give her the attention her bold spirit required. She is about 5 or 6 years old (I forget) and is what I would like to call our hippie. Mollie likes to chill on the other side of the room watching the entire activity of the room from afar. If it suits her, she will come and join us. Otherwise, she won’t bother you unless she wants a brain massage or to go out. One of those “if I don’t have anything to say, I will keep my yap shut.” Those are our girls.

Our boys are relatively newer additions to the family and while both are still learning, I have never had a dog with such personalities as these two. Luchador was chosen from a litter of Chihuahuas that a family member had. Born with blue eyes, his eyes are a beautiful hazel and you cannot help but notice them in stark contrast to his labrador yellow fur. He is a sweet, snuggly dog and quite smart. He is one of those dogs that has so much love he fills the room with it upon entry. Luchador is daddy to our Courage. Appropriately named, Courage is quite the chicken and has some strange behaviors like the dog from the cartoon show. He is learning what his place is and it is quite helpful that he tries to mimic his daddy’s behavior. It is appropriate to note that Mollie is the mamma dog.

Thinking about our little pack, they are all important to my sanity during my workday. Working from home can make one feel quite isolated. From a professional point of view, the dogs post no security threat as they are not able to understand any thing I am saying to customers while working and certainly cannot write down any company secrets. Further, they have been taught that my office is a no bark zone. I like this because they can alert me when someone is near the house without making any noise. It makes me feel quite safe. I also refer to them as “my assistants.” Sometimes I tend to get so drawn into my work that I will forget that it is time to get up and take a stretch or that it is lunch time.

Let me stop for a minute. Luchador wants a head pat. Pat Pat pat. 🙂

Ok. Yes, they remind me to get up and stretch. Remember, it is not healthy to sit at your desk for hours and hours. I am a big advocate of taking full advantage of those breaks and lunches. If you work at home, you should too. My furry children help me get through my day and, to be honest, help me keep my sanity.

What saving grace do your furry children provide for you? Are they chock full of personality?  Let me know!

What do YOU think?

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Parlay with Death

It is not very often that people are given the opportunity to experience something ethereal. Death is something that many a scientist an after life expert have opinions on but, unless they experience it themselves and come back, there is not much premise to go on. This is where our story begins, and ends…sort of. In my life, I have bore witness to 3 deaths. One was from afar, and the other two were in a hospital room. The first one, in the hospital room was my Aunt Maggie. It was nothing like the second experience and she just ceased to be present in her body and all the machines around her stopped their busy, white noise. I imagine this is typical of what most people experience/witness when they are gathered around the death bed of a loved one.

However, is the experience ever different? I like to think so.

When my father died, it was different. It was one of the most difficult and easiest moments in my life. I seen things that are hard to translate into words but I will try my best for the purposes of this blurb. For lack of a better description, his last moment was sucked out of him. Plain and simple. I don’t understand how nor do I want to try and comprehend what it was that moment meant. But for me, it was peace and terror all in one breath.

I don’t recall who was in the room when Dad died. I remember calling his siblings in Washington and letting them talk to him through the phone while he was still breathing. I remember whispering in his ear. The content of those whispers now leave me and only me and a dead man know what those words consist of. I remember I was standing to his right. They had just leveled the bed. It was in the ICU unit of the local hospital. I also remember that he was fine when we were put out for the half hour that ICU requires all visitors to leave for their daily reset. From 6 to 6:30, everyone in the ICU that was not assigned to that room had to leave the ICU ward. It was hospital rules. So we left. Dad was alright as alright could be when we left. We had all planned on coming back and pick back up where we left off. But, when we came back, his bed was tilted so that his feet were up in the air and his head was near the floor. At this 45 degree angle, it was supposed to be easier on his heart. I remember thinking, “Jeez, they are serious about the health benefits of laying with your feet above your heart.” I vaguely remember my mother’s distraught voice “What did you do to him?” The nurse replied it was to help his heart as his heart rate dropped right after we left.

After that, it was like it was in slow motion. Somehow the room became cold. I chalked it up to being August in the deep South. Air conditioning and such. In those moments it never occurred to me that it was not the air conditioning coming on as it was already blowing and had been at a steady enough pace to keep things comfortable. Aside from the possibility that my mother was on the other side of the bed, I felt as if I was the only one in the room at that point. I felt a chill come over me when I pulled the phone from my fathers face for the last time. I stood there for a minute. Something told me to focus on his face. It seemed peaceful enough. They had turned off all the machines and it was just the fading beep beep of the heart monitor that sort of faded into white noise. My surroundings faded into a blur.  It was me and dad and…Death had made its appearance.

Dad had begun to take a breath as if he were coming up for air while swimming. He was a mouth breather when he slept and my mind told me it was him preparing him for that final nap. One breath. Two breaths. Three breaths. Then something happened. I don’t know if it was my mind doing this or if it really happened, I just don’t recall the lighting in the room. I remember when they came to put the white circles on his eyes that the room was dimly lit. But, in the moment that Death had arrived, I don’t remember how the lights were in that room. It was a corner room. The part behind me was part wall and part glass wall and I think there was a window across from me. I am not sure. That part doesn’t matter. That fourth breath Dad took was his final breath. To me, it got dark and cold and his face contorted into an expression I had never seen before. It was not an expression that one can describe as there is not an emotion to attach it to.

c Dad’s last breath. That expression, coupled with the chill in the room and that noise that I heard (or maybe my mind fabricated it) was me watching the life being sucked out of my fathers body by Death itself. His face contorted and twisted up in a way that can only be described as “leaving.” It was every human emotion wrapped up in one second.  I remember taking a step back after that. I looked at the air above my father. Human observers would say it was a moment of shock that Daddy was gone. It was not that. Not that at all. There was something there and it fled. Just like that. The hours after that have since been blocked out of my mind and no matter how hard I try, they still flee any recollection.

In the months that followed, I had nightmares of this black shadow of a creature standing on my fathers chest pushing down and sucking the essence out of him. It turns to look at me as if it were a child caught doing something it shouldn’t and then it turns to flee as only a ghostly apparition can do. Leaving behind only the shell of what I identified as my father, the dream ends when I try to run to the body. Same dream every time. I used to wake up with a start when these first happened. But now, I just stand there as if I had been desensitized to it.  Sure, I wake up. But I simply roll over and go back to sleep.

When my sister passed away this past Winter, I wanted to be there and see if I could meet Death once again. However, I didn’t want to be. It would turn into some sort of sick hobby and I wanted no part of it. I shared a moment with Death. I watched it at work. I seen every detail in hyper focus. I felt and seen its presence. There is nothing that can change that. I am not special. I don’t claim to have a sixth sense. However, I know when it came and when it fled that hospital room. Honestly, I don’t want to see it again until it is my time to walk with it. However, I still try to grasp the concept of why I was one to be allowed to see the apparition at work. People are often granted permission to see things that mortals should never see. There is ultimately a reason. I have yet to figure that out.

Maybe I will find out one day. Maybe I won’t. They say that only use a minute part of their brain. How does that relate to this experience? Only me and Death know that answer. Unfortunately, I don’t have the key to that door in my brain that contains the answer. I know I will never find it. Maybe that is a good thing.

What do YOU think?

Reshare: Smartazz Hippie

Interesting to note that we still have true hippies in this world. Although, I am not sure it is cool that they feel they have something to prove? What ever happened to the peace loving ones that loved to live and let live?

It all started when I came home from work and found a butterscotch-colored VW microbus in my driveway. I pulled in and as soon as I got out of my car, the door of the microbus swung open and a most interesting character appeared. He was short with salt and pepper hair with a beard […]

via From Mushrooms to Moonshine — Everyone Else Has the Best Titles

Reshare: Insanitybites.

I am woman. Hear me roar. Know what? Yes. I make my husband a sandwich from time to time. Know what else? He does it for me too! Marriage and relationships are about team work and not who is wearing the pants or who is in control. It is about give and take. “For better and for worse” means that when he is down, I step up and drive this boat. When I am tired from cleaning, working, caring for the kids, and, God forbid…making sandwiches, he steps up to the plate and does the same. My husband can clean house every bit as well as I can. He can run this house and keep everything running if I need to sleep a day a way or I am ever ill. He doesn’t do FOR me and neither I him. We are in this together and we are equal. When the world, especially the damn internet figures that out, there may be something similar to World Peace happening in the domestic arena.

 

 

 

There’s a real spiritual war going on within our culture right now that some may be blissfully unaware of, the battle of the sandwiches. I too was unaware of it until it began to encroach upon my life. The meme about “making sandwiches” is about far more than the superficial, it is an outright attack […]

via Making Sandwiches — See, there’s this thing called biology…

This Morning, I Squirreled

As we all know, I have my “writing days.” This means general laziness and lack of the elixir of life (caffeine.) To begin with, I worked late last night. This, of course, horribly threw off my weekend sleeping schedule. As a result, I ended up oversleeping. I know what you are thinking. How can you over sleep on a sleep-in day?  Sadly, I had to work for a couple hours this morning.

Bottom line? I was tired, I overslept, and I had no choice but to have a couple cups of Java. No, I have not been squirreled yet, I have just begun my day! Groggily, I meander into the office and get my couple hours out of the way and then brush my teeth. Yes, normally I am ready and the brushing of the hair, brushing of the teeth, beating of the boogey man are all done before work. Like I said, I overslept. Anywhoo…I went to brush my teeth and made the mistake of looking up. Toothbrush and toothpaste in hand, I notice a couple of dots on the wall above the lights that are above the medicine cabinet. I know, why in the sam hill would I look up there? I don’t know. Maybe it was my body finding something to do with an extra dose of caffeine for the week cuz BOY WAS I AWAKE! Instead of proceeding to put the toothpaste on my brush and go about my day, my brain said that I absolutely had to see what those two dots were.

OOOOKAY! I was too lazy to go get the utility bench and stand on it so I just went for it. I climbed up on the counter and stood up. So here I stand, on the counter, without my glasses on, and my face is about 8 inches from the wall so I could determine what these little dots were. Here is what my brain is saying: I don’t know why I never seen these things up here before. But dang….its dusty up here and I need to get a wet rag and wipe the top of the cabinet and the light fixture down because; oh…ick. What are those two dots?  Squint. Squint. Think. Squint. Damn, its dusty, let me grab the hand towel and put some water on it because the dusting wipes are in the kitchen. *Looks down* Let me grab my phone by my foot and take a picture and send to Cal because WHY THE FLUCK AM I STANDING ON THE COUNTER? It would be hilarious if he were to walk in the house at this moment from picking up breakfast. Hehe *Click…Send*  Where is that towel, there it is. Lower yourself to get water carefully Micaa, that floor is concrete and you might break something if you fall. How would you explain THAT?!”

Let me step back from this thought process.

At some point in all of that noise, it occurs to me that the dots on the wall were ants from an infestation we had originating from the open bathroom window about 4 or 5 years ago. We sprayed ant spray all over the bathroom and there was a line of ants going from the bathroom window to the light fixture above the medicine cabinet. These two guys must not have been wiped off the wall during any subsequent cleaning adventures. Oh, they were crunchy. I imagine there was nothing biological left of those guys except the fact that they were just there. Mummified so to speak. Ultimately, I wiped the entire wall above the medicine cabinet, dusted the top of it off, cleaned the light fixture, and started laundry.

Yea, I started laundry. Then I brushed my teeth. Whew! That took about an hour. All I was going to do was brush my teeth. I have come to a conclusion about this situation. I am either suffering from busy mom syndrome or I truly have ADHD. That was tiring.

What do YOU think?

 

The Opposite of Writer’s Block?

All weekend I have had a feeling that I absolutely must write. The only problem is that I did not know what it was. I did get a couple of good posts out of it but the satisfaction one gets after forking out a blurb did not last. I almost felt like it was a drug and it had ceased to work its magic for me. It reminded me of that little “Nugget” cartoon that is going around social media that shows what drugs will do to someone. (Here it is in case you need a memory jog…  see below. ) Mind you, I am normally satisfied to do 2 posts a week and then  wait until the next weekend. However, with this posting on a Monday, you must know that the need for that satisfied feeling has yet to come. I have also felt the need to read something and everything I pick up, with the exception of one book was simply not good enough. I don’t know what it is. I have never felt this way before and like most things that interfere with my rut, it sucks. It sucks a big old fat one and I don’t know what to do.

I have tried all my outlets. From my idea and personal journals, to my book, to my next non-fiction work to my blogs. NOTHING seems right! What is a girl to do? I even thought that if I did this small post that it would satisfy that. Oh no. Like so many other things in my life recently, that was a good idea as it bounced around in my brain but not very fruitful once it came out. Ah, but I digress.

Such it is that we are….

What do YOU think?

 

 

 

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