More Bull than Pit

I've had a difficult time thinking about what to write about this weekend.  Not that I haven't had things happen. I have definitely had things happen.  First, I got bite by a dog.  That in itself was enough to write about because the sheriff's deputy that came out was kinda' cute and hit on me. He insisted I go seek medical treatment "cause he would want his wife to be careful" and do that, wink, wink.  So I had to go to my doctor and get a tetanus shot which really hurt like everything and made my arm sore. Then the guy who's dog bite me was a jerk and said he wouldn't pay for my medical treatment.  He said his dog wasn't vicious, just another misunderstood pit bull.  Then the sheriff's deputy called me that evening to make sure I was doing OK and asked if I had gone to the doctor.  I said "yes" and he said he was really glad because he wanted to make sure I took care of myself.  He said I looked so young for my age, couldn't help but notice when I showed him my driver's license. I had told him when he asked for my license that I wasn't driving when the dog bite me but he said it was "regulations 'mam". Then he asked if he could call back later and check on me?!  Then the guy who's dog bite me got cited by the Animal Control Officer for not keeping the dog up for the required l0 days when a neighbor saw it running around again the next morning.  I was glad because my arm hurt all night and kept me awake.  Then the bill came by email from my doctor's office and it was $l20.  When handed to the guy who's dog bite me, it was promptly thrown back at me.  Then when the sheriff's deputy called back I told him. And he said "That's too bad".  Now I don't think there's a chance in hell that I have a future with the deputy after that, but my arm is fine and my insurance paid most of the bill and the Animal Control Officer said she expected the guy who's dog bite me will have a check to me pretty soon.  So, all in all it was a really nice weekend and I think I will come out almost $l00 ahead and I have no desire whatsoever to get a pit bull, a sheriff's deputy or another tetanus shot for l0 years.

Sailing Off into Disaster

About a week ago I read an article on AOL that stated that the average 50 year old women's greatest fear  is being broke in her old age.  I never imaged that I would find myself fitting into main street American in such a way.  As a young woman, I always thought that I would marry my childhood sweetheart and stay that way for life. I did in fact marry him, but he's been married to his second wife now for 25 years so I kinda' let that dream go. So here I am almost 60 and I realize that I will grow old alone and that I will be part of that growing number of women who do it broke.  I can look back at the choices I made and the mistakes and kick myself into the next decade or I can do what my father taught me to do, work.  My father believed first in hard work, and second, in hard work.  He wasn't one to sit around and talk, instead he was a man of action and always had a project going.  I swear I think he poured concrete on every inch of land he ever owned.  He's still the only person I know who had one of those little personal size concrete mixers.  Every time he sat down, he jumped up and did something.  I've tried to remember if it was because my mother told him to, or if he just did it on his own.  Either way, every time we went to the lake as a child, something got covered in concrete. My mother would sit in the swing in the shade and my father and his hired man, Tommy, would pour concrete.  Concrete patios, driveways, boat ramps, walkways.  For a man who admired nature and a pretty lawn, he sure covered up a lot of it with concrete.  I am a lot like him.  I work a lot and I work hard.  The only problem is, I don't make any money. So maybe work is not the solution for me any more than getting married to a man who I thought would take care of me was. Its too late to inherit my wealth. I doubt I will be adopted by someone rich; although a 40ish year old woman I knew in Fairhope did arrange such a thing.  But, she still had a really cute body.  My chances of marrying for it are pretty much as shot as my knees.  If I watch the news I know I don't just have to worry about whether I can live on my social security, I have to worry if I will every see it.  So what's a girl to do?  The article suggested that women should consider a "Golden Girls" solution. Move in with a group of like minded women friends.  Only problem,  most of my friends are married.  That, of course is prone to change in the next few years as the men find younger wives and/or die off.  With any luck all my friends will find that they are in the same boat as me and we will climb in it together and steer it to the nursing home. Isn't that a pretty picture.  Four or five, love starved old women clinging to each other and their social security checks sailing off into the sunset. I hope one of them can see well enough to steer and I sure hope that some of them are funny.

Daisy Does a Doe

Last night I slept with a dog. If someone else said that you would probably think they were making some kind of sexual overtones. I am, in fact, telling you that either I have mellowed in my OLD age or I really am lonely. Right after I turned the lights out, my sweet female golden, pounced on top of me in bed.  I have had dogs all my life and except for allowing my grandpuppy, Cha-Cha, to curl up with me in the mornings when visiting, I have never had a dog in my bed.  Believe me, she is not the worst thing I have let in my bed as my recent unpleasantness will attest to. My pups have been here a week and this was the first time she'd even made any slight request to join me in my bed.  After thinking about it, I am sure it was her way of apologizing for a real blunder on her part earlier in the day.  Every morning I walk the dogs and Daisy the female almost breaks her neck either taking off (with leash attached) after a squirrel or a deer. Big Waldo would love to do the same but he's heavy and old and its hard enough for him just keep up on the hills and winding roads here in the mountains.  Daisy knows no such bounds and loves the chase.  Yesterday I let them into the back yard to do their business then called them right in.  Waldo headed to the air conditioning of the house but something caught Daisy's eye.  I saw her head turn and her ears pick up only a moment too late.  Before I could say "fat chance" she was gone.  The little doe's white tail disappeared about the same time Daisy's head did.  She doesn't bark so the only way to know the direction they were heading was to listen for all the other dogs in the neighborhood to sound the alarm as she and the doe rushed by.  I could hear the King George Spaniels on the next street as I ran out the door.  By the time I reached the top of the hill behind me the Corky was yelling "here she is".  But when I rounded the corner to his house, I could hear the golden who lives across the street telling me they had made a circle and were heading back.  The Shi tzu was barking by this time but she barks all the time so I couldn't be sure that Daisy and the Doe were on the right or left side of the neighborhood. I had on flip flops and my feet were killing me. Thank God, I was wearing a bra.  Finally I made it back to my house and saw Daisy sitting in the yard intently studying a hole in the ground.  The deer was no where in sight.  I planned on killing her but to my surprise the little doe came back down the hill and stood and looked at us both. Her tail was straight up in the air and she kicked her paw against the ground and blew.  She shook her head at us almost as if teasing Daisy to get and do it again. I don't which one of us, Daisy or me, was more awe struck, but neither of us moved an inch. Instead I sat down on the ground beside her and watched a sight I will never forget. Daisy had made a friend and I had witnessed a wild animal be tamed by the sweet loving nature of my dear dog. She can sleep with me again tonight.

MIracles and Dogs, God's Big Blessings

I believe in miracles. I know, that sounds like a song, but its the truth.  I have seen them in my life and in the life of others. They happen. Not as you expect, or when.  That's why they are called "miracles".  I went to a writing group last week and the assignment was to write about your passion. I couldn't think of what to say.  I have passion, don't get me wrong.  I am a very passionate person. I just don't know about what.  When it hits me, then I know it.  When I am in that mind frame, and I am struck by my complete belief in a cause then I feel it.  Then I could pick up a sign and march for it. Then I would die for my belief. I just don't know what it is until it happens.  Today I know what I am passionate about. Stubbornness.  I passionately believe in being stubborn.  I could be more tactful and say perseverance or tenacity. I could quote Winston Churchill, "Never, never, never give up".  I could talk wisdom and strength of resolve. Fortitude. Truth is,  most of its just plain mule headed stubbornness.  I am a stubborn person and I am grateful for it. For one year I have been whining, praying and carrying on about my dogs.  I have asked nicely to see them, with salt and with vinegar, with sugar and with syrup.  Nothing.  Then out of the blue - my dogs are here with me. That is a miracle.  The thing about dogs is that they love you.  They love you when they are scratching your hardwood floors, scratching themselves all night long, destroying your sofa, rolling in the dirt then heading to your off-white carpet, throwing up the grass they insisted on eating on your just mopped kitchen floor. They love you when you are fussing at them for any or all of the above.  They don't lie to you.  They don't use you except where treats are involved.  They want to play when you want to and they want to play when you don't want to. Given a chance they will nap with you, especially on that newly ruined sofa.  They don't make up stuff to make you feel bad about yourself.  In fact, they love you exactly like you are and think you are so special.  Or at least have the decency to act like it. They lay their sweet noses up against your arm,  rub their butts against the toe of your shoe when you cross your legs and they never make you feel fat, old or dried up.  They make you feel you are the best thing in life.  And if you love them back,  you are. I am so glad I didn't give up.  I am so glad that I am stubborn.

I'll Have What She's Having

While sitting in my doctor's office skimming a medical publication, I read an interesting article that said plastic surgery was rebounding after being hit hard by the recession.  The writer did not live in Alpharetta, Georgia. I do not believe anything ever is allowed to lag, sag, or fall behind in Alpharetta.  Alpharetta has the most perfect people in the world living there. No doubt some of them are that way by birth. The article stated that 13.l million procedures were performed in the U.S. in 20l0. A few of those were outside Alpharetta.  Topping the list of surgical procedures was breast augmentations at almost 300,000.  Silicone implants accounted for 60% of those procedures.  Face lifts have "sagged" behind with no growth reported since 2007.  Body contouring procedures  (making your butt bigger and your boobs lifted)  showed marked improvement, in more ways than one.  There were 11.6 million minimally invasive procedures done with, of course, botox leading the way at 5.4 million injections.  Soft tissue fillers came in second with l.8 million lucky participants.  Mostly done to pucker up your kisser.  The big surprise for me was the number of people having their calf size increased. Who would have thought it?  I can't say I wouldn't like to have all these things done, I can just say, I can't afford to and I'm chicken.  The next page was an article devoted to the pharmaceutical industries darling, Viagra.  Interestingly it was concerning  whether Obama Care would cover Viagra for our increasingly large boomer population.  England's government ran health care system spent 58 million covering Viagra during 2008.  That figure had tripled in 6 years.  In 2006 General Motors generous health coverage spent l7million making sure its retires were "up".  I am further amazed.  I turned the page to read that the Alzheimer's (ALZ.org) Organization was showing a marked decease in availability of funding for research and grants. The recession had made a significant impact on research on this and many other illness that are sure to plague the boomers.  About this time the receptionist called me in and I did not get to finish the rest of the publication but I did come home completely convinced that within the next 20 years there should be an extremely large elderly population with perky boobs and nice erections and absolutely no recollection of what to do with them. I feel better already.

Lord, Knows, I'm Southern and I Thank Him For It

This past weekend was the most northern of all holidays, The Yankee Memorial Day.  When I said this to my daughter, she looked at me like I was crazy, but I explained that my parents actually had grandparents that had fought and died in the Great War of Northern Aggression.  I do celebrate Memorial Day in memory of WWI, WWII, Korea, Viet Nam, and all the other recent messes, but still cling to Confederate Memorial Day in my heart because as a child I loved taking yard cut flowers to Elementary School and crying around the flag pole. In celebration of the Day, I went to God's Country.  My friends in Georgia know I mean Alabama.  If Alabama is God's Country, and I have no doubt that it is, Lake Martin is God's bathtub.  You couldn't ask for more pristine water or a more beautiful and peaceful setting. Until my recent unpleasantness with my now ex husband, I had never had a bad moment, an unpleasant memory or unlucky day on Lake Martin. Growing up on Lake Martin is part of my heritage as a Southern Belle and it definitely shaped my thoughts on what is proper, fitting and downright Southern.    For those of you who are not so blessed to be Southern I have made a few notes to help you through what I no doubt is part (or a handicap)  of your upbringing which makes "us" Southerners say, "You just weren't raised right".  First of all, y'all is both singular and plural, so if the shoe fits, buy it  and apply it. At Lake Martin I learned the following: 
l.  In a room of Southerners, when given time, half will learn that they are related, if only by marriage.
2. Only Southerners order "sweet tea" and ask for "sweet milk".
3. A true Southerner knows you can say anything, about anybody, at anytime, if proceeded by "bless their hearts" and followed by "God love 'em".
4. A true Southern lady can make friends while standing in line, anywhere, and with anyone. Especially at the Ladies Room in Jordan Hare Stadium.
5. A true Southern lady loves a man in uniform, military, police officer or fireman. And Rhett Butler. But not necessarily in that order.
6. Only a Southerner can have a hissie fit or a connipition fit, and understands that you "pitch" them.
7. Only a Southerner understands that grits are the fifth food group and that they are suitable to serve at breakfast, lunch or dinner; e.i. breakfast, dinner, and supper.   I have tried a grit pie for dessert by even I have had to draw the line there.
8. If a Southern gent says "Gimme some Sughar" he ain't asking you to pass the bowl.
9. If you are a little embarrassed by your Southerness: Take two tent revivals, pour gravy on it and go to Bear's grave and ask forgiveness.
l0. If any of you didn't understand this, well, bless your hearts, I am fixin' to have a class on Southern as a second language, and God love ya'.
My thanks to Susan for an email that inspired this and my family who shared Memorial Day with me at the Lake!