I know the "Old Farts" reading this will understand. You "kids" out there, don't worry, your time is coming!
It recently hit me, I'm "Old!" How did I figure it out? Well....
First, I get cold now. I used to keep the temp in my office on "meat locker," but now it's uncomfortable and I have been pushing the thermostat up to (GASP) 70! I'm pleased to say, I still don't enjoy the heat much higher than that, which means I won't be able to wear long sleeves all winter (again) since I have to keep the heat up to 74 for Pa.
I like gloves now. Until last year, I very seldom ever gave in and wore gloves. Now, my hands start to hurt when I'm out in the cold, and my gloves are in my coat pockets to make sure I have them. I'm thinking about getting one of those string things that goes through the arms of your coat to hold your mittens/gloves. I may have a heart attack if I lose them! I know my hands would fall off...
I used a hood! Traditionally, I hate things on my head. Have not been a fan of hats, hoods, any of that stuff. I left the office today with the temperature sitting at 29, the wind blowing like mad, and used the hood on my coat for the first time ever. Of course, I was also cussing the construction people who have the sidewalk blocked for the next 3 years which makes us have to walk way out of our way to get to the parking lot. (Just dawned on me, I will be retired before that stupid construction fence comes down!)
My feet get cold. OK, they got cold before, but now when they get cold, they cramp and hurt. Which means I can't run around barefoot in the snow any more. (Yes, I did.)(I know, Mom said that, too.)
My sciatic nerve is a pain in...well... the rearend. Literally. Yes, it's been a problem for the past, oh, 30 years, but when did it get to be better at predicting the weather than the "weather men?" It was not a happy moment when I realized the more my butt hurt, the better chance we had of having rain or snow.
My eyes. Oh, yes, let's not forget them! How nice it was to hear the opthamologist tell me my cataracts are getting worse. Cataracts? Worse? Excuse me? Seems he thought he told me about them last year. Nope. But thanks for letting me have one more year of ignorance. I'd really rather not know. I think?
But now that I know about the cataracts, I understand why some lighting conditions give me a fit. And why driving at night is a pain in the tush.
I used to be worried about "cute" clothes. We all know our parents told us that some day being comfortable would be more important than being "cute." Danged if it didn't happen. And even if they are comfy, if they aren't washable and permanent press, forget it! (Iron? What's that? Wait, I'm sure I have one in the basement...somewhere!)
Shoes and I have never been good friends. Even less so now. There will be no heels, no pointy toes, none of that "fashion" nonsense. I want comfort!
There are some little things, like balance, that I miss. OK, it isn't that bad. But when I was a kid, I could spin in a circle, stop, and walk a straight line. No more. While the doctor doesn't know the cause, I have this little friend "Vertigo" that visits occasionally. First time I noticed it, the [jerk] doctor said it was just because I am "old and dehydrated." Yep, found me a new doctor.
Is losing patience a sign of getting old? It never used to bother me when I sat waiting forever for someone or something. Which is really a good thing since during the past 30 years I have spent a significant amount of time waiting for attorneys, judges, criminals, or all three. It gets on my last nerve now, tho. I start fantasizing about what evil thing I might be able to do, and get away with, to get even. Wait, is that passive aggressive?
There are some things that confuse me, tho. I have a touch of asthma now. Why is it most "normal" people have asthma as kids and outgrow it? Not me, I first had that little issue a couple of years ago. Isn't that regressing?
And my face. Or, more specifically, the oil on my face. When I was a teen, everyone said when I hit 25, my skin would dry out, so I better enjoy it. Well, THAT was a lie. Then it was supposed to be 30, then 35... Now, most of you know how old I am (or have a pretty good idea) and danged if I still don't get zits! Sink an oil well in my face and end all oil shortages!
I know, I'm really pretty lucky, my health is pretty good, but some days you just need to vent!
Monday, November 29, 2010
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Kudos for On the Rocks
Wow, it's been a long time! I really don't know why. It certainly isn't because I have become any less opinionated. Maybe I just haven't thought of anything worth talking about for a while?
But now I have! Back to music! One of my favorite things. A few weeks ago, I saw a link on FaceBook for a YouTube video of an acapella group from the University of Oregon. On the Rocks. I always check out YouTube links, you can get some great laughs and find some seriously good stuff there. I checked out the video, and was absolutely blown away. We all know I was a "choir geek" in high school, I was a member of our "Acapella" choir (strangely enough, we seldom sand anything acapella.) I love tight harmonies, I love listening to male vocal groups. (I don't know why, but there really aren't many female singers I like.)
When I listened to On the Rocks, I was reminded of a group from a few years back, The Nylons. A Canadian acapella group. In 1989, The Nylons put out an album titled Rockapella. On that album, they talk about "taking acapella into the 90's." Yes, I know how old I am. Give it a rest! I love The Nylons, and yes, I had the pleasure of seeing them in concert twice. They are not only fantastic vocalists, they have a great rapport and are fun to watch. You know making music, singong with each other and entertaining their audience is fun for them. That's what makes it fun for everyone.
Would it ever be possible for acapella to break into "mainstream" music? I only wish! What is more exciting, more intriguing, or more impressive than a handful of guys getting up in front of an audience and using the original musical instruments, their voices, and only their voices, to make music?
I believe On the Rocks can take acapella into the new millennium! They have the outstanding voices, the showmanship, the instinct for entertaining their audience. I have spent hours listening to their YouTube videos. Oh, who am I kidding. I have ripped several of them to put on my iPod so I can torture people with them! I now have all of the albums they have produced over the years. On the Rocks has taken on a wide range of styles and moods. They have made me cry and laugh and amazed me by "out gaga-ing" Lady Gaga. (Yep, I think their arrangement and performance of Bad Romance is better than the original. Sorry!)
Perhaps when you think of acapella, you think of barbershop. Yeah, it's that, too, but these guys are so much more. Their vocal percussion is amazing. Using voices for the instruments is fantastic. This isn't grandma's acapella. This type of music deserves to be heard by a much larger audience. After their YouTube video of Bad Romance went viral, they seemed to be shocked at the attention. I could explain it to them. They are fresh, they are new, they are talented, they just plain ROCK! They do weekly concerts on campus during the school year, which is where a number of their videos originated. I confess, I like those weekly shows, just them hanging out and singing their hearts out, better than the "official" performance videos. I understand it's tradition for them to do a midnight concert at the end of the school year. I'm tempted to book a flight to Oregon.
Of course, I want everyone to check out On the Rocks on YouTube. My favorites?
Kyrie Eleison
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VgvVme1zRB8
Bad Romance
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M8PAuvxCZuM&feature=related
Afloat (by Caleb and Sol Rexius, Caleb a former On the Rocks member)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nP0VVNebbSM
Eye to Eye
http://www.youtube.com/user/yankeessuck8991#p/u/4/73qNHYhfA3g
Lullaby
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iaQ51pOlJXM
For the Longest Time
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CbLgJTycnHA&feature=related
Ah, there are too many to list!
I truly hope those kids know how good they are, I hope their exposure with Bad Romance results in many new fans of the genre. I hope one, or some, of you reading this will "get it" and understand my excitement!
Now, I think I need to go make a donation to some school music program. Perhaps if more people appreciated music, the world would be a better place to live...
What was I thinking? I forgot the most important link, the link to their website!
http://www.uoontherocks.com/
Could someone please tell them their current group page needs to be updated? We also need new YouTube videos to see what they are up to this year!
But now I have! Back to music! One of my favorite things. A few weeks ago, I saw a link on FaceBook for a YouTube video of an acapella group from the University of Oregon. On the Rocks. I always check out YouTube links, you can get some great laughs and find some seriously good stuff there. I checked out the video, and was absolutely blown away. We all know I was a "choir geek" in high school, I was a member of our "Acapella" choir (strangely enough, we seldom sand anything acapella.) I love tight harmonies, I love listening to male vocal groups. (I don't know why, but there really aren't many female singers I like.)
When I listened to On the Rocks, I was reminded of a group from a few years back, The Nylons. A Canadian acapella group. In 1989, The Nylons put out an album titled Rockapella. On that album, they talk about "taking acapella into the 90's." Yes, I know how old I am. Give it a rest! I love The Nylons, and yes, I had the pleasure of seeing them in concert twice. They are not only fantastic vocalists, they have a great rapport and are fun to watch. You know making music, singong with each other and entertaining their audience is fun for them. That's what makes it fun for everyone.
Would it ever be possible for acapella to break into "mainstream" music? I only wish! What is more exciting, more intriguing, or more impressive than a handful of guys getting up in front of an audience and using the original musical instruments, their voices, and only their voices, to make music?
I believe On the Rocks can take acapella into the new millennium! They have the outstanding voices, the showmanship, the instinct for entertaining their audience. I have spent hours listening to their YouTube videos. Oh, who am I kidding. I have ripped several of them to put on my iPod so I can torture people with them! I now have all of the albums they have produced over the years. On the Rocks has taken on a wide range of styles and moods. They have made me cry and laugh and amazed me by "out gaga-ing" Lady Gaga. (Yep, I think their arrangement and performance of Bad Romance is better than the original. Sorry!)
Perhaps when you think of acapella, you think of barbershop. Yeah, it's that, too, but these guys are so much more. Their vocal percussion is amazing. Using voices for the instruments is fantastic. This isn't grandma's acapella. This type of music deserves to be heard by a much larger audience. After their YouTube video of Bad Romance went viral, they seemed to be shocked at the attention. I could explain it to them. They are fresh, they are new, they are talented, they just plain ROCK! They do weekly concerts on campus during the school year, which is where a number of their videos originated. I confess, I like those weekly shows, just them hanging out and singing their hearts out, better than the "official" performance videos. I understand it's tradition for them to do a midnight concert at the end of the school year. I'm tempted to book a flight to Oregon.
Of course, I want everyone to check out On the Rocks on YouTube. My favorites?
Kyrie Eleison
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VgvVme1zRB8
Bad Romance
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M8PAuvxCZuM&feature=related
Afloat (by Caleb and Sol Rexius, Caleb a former On the Rocks member)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nP0VVNebbSM
Eye to Eye
http://www.youtube.com/user/yankeessuck8991#p/u/4/73qNHYhfA3g
Lullaby
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iaQ51pOlJXM
For the Longest Time
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CbLgJTycnHA&feature=related
Ah, there are too many to list!
I truly hope those kids know how good they are, I hope their exposure with Bad Romance results in many new fans of the genre. I hope one, or some, of you reading this will "get it" and understand my excitement!
Now, I think I need to go make a donation to some school music program. Perhaps if more people appreciated music, the world would be a better place to live...
What was I thinking? I forgot the most important link, the link to their website!
http://www.uoontherocks.com/
Could someone please tell them their current group page needs to be updated? We also need new YouTube videos to see what they are up to this year!
Saturday, December 19, 2009
The Never Ending Tales (of John)
or What a Week it Has Been!
Monday started out normal enough. I went to do an interview at one of the jails, then came home to drag Father to the dentist for his check-up. He loves going to the dentist. (not) Got there, they gave him some antibiotics because his gums are awful, and the cleaning went fairly quickly and easily.
Go home, he ate his dinner, everything seems normal. Then he went to bed. And started dreaming, I think. He was yelling at people, telling them not to do things, said someone was earning $9.15 an hour, and he didn’t sound happy about it. Heard him complaining he was cold. About 4:00 a.m., he starts calling me, saying someone is starting a fire. Explained to him there was no fire and told him to go back to sleep. Not sure if he did, but I kept hearing him fussing at someone.
Tuesday, I got up at 6:30 a.m., as usual, I’m in the shower and he starts yelling for me to “Come here right now!” Told him to hang on to his shorts and I would be there when I got clothes on. When I got dressed, he is mad as a hornet because those guys had that fire burning, but they just put it out. Asked where the fire was, he said under the porch. Then he tells me he tried to put the fire out with the garden hose, but couldn’t and then said “those three guys who came in put the fire out.” OK. Three guys. What three guys? Told him there was no fire, he got angrier. I decided it wasn’t worth it and shut up. He sort of got settled down.
I went to do another interview. Got home just in time to get his lunch from the Meal on Wheels guy. Go in the house, and he is all put out, wants to know who those three guys were. What three guys? He doesn’t know who they were, but said they came in while he was taking a shPOOPt, and were sitting in the living room when he came out of the bathroom. He said the men wouldn't talk to him, just sat there looking at him. Oh, good. Nothing is out of place in the house. Nothing missing. I’m thinking he is still crazy, and I was right. He ate dinner and took his customary afternoon nap. I decided I wasn’t going in to the office with him acting goofy. He is asleep a little while and starts talking again. Then he is arguing with someone, can’t quite figure out what’s going on, so I asked him who he was talking to. He said “That guy standing over there” and points at the piano. Now, unless there was an invisible man, there was no guy on the piano. I told him there was no man. He got really mad.
By now, I’ve decided something isn’t right (ain’t I smart!) and decided he was going to the doctor Wednesday (Wednesday is one of the regular days they have someone in the office near us.) Also got chicken and gave him another dose of the antibiotics they use before his cleaning.
Tuesday night, he was up about every 90 minutes to 2 hours. He would get up and start walking into the living room. I’d get up and ask him why he was getting up in the middle of the night. He would get disgusted and go back to bed. About 3:00 a.m., I hear him complaining his back and hips hurt. This is not a surprise to me, he went to bed before it even got dark, I would think he would ache from lying there that long! About 4:00 a.m., he got up, said he was going to sit in his chair ‘cause his hips hurt. And he did. I didn’t hear another peep out of him the rest of the night.
Wednesday I call the doctor’s office and discover the person we wanted to see wasn’t in that day, and the other guy was double booked. Told me to call the Broomfield office and get a message to the one we wanted to see. So I call, leave a message, and of course, the didn’t call back until after 5:00 p.m. By then I had already made an appointment for Thursday in Thornton. Jerks. I prepared for another fun night.
But the fun night didn’t materialize. He was quiet, slept through the night, no yelling and no wandering.
Thursday we go to the doctor. He is no longer talking crazy. She can’t find anything wrong with him. No urinary tract infection. No real answers. If is was a mini-stroke, there appears to be no loss of motion. That was the strangest thing. He was never unsteady (well, any more than usual) on his feet, was talking as well as ever, no physical signs of anything.
I was too chicken to leave him and go to work Friday. He was fine all night Thursday night and Friday. Anyone have a nice padded cell I could borrow? I think I need one.
The big question remains, what was that all about? Did getting his teeth cleaned shake his marbles loose temporarily? We have no idea, but I’d really not like to do a repeat of this week in the near future!
Monday started out normal enough. I went to do an interview at one of the jails, then came home to drag Father to the dentist for his check-up. He loves going to the dentist. (not) Got there, they gave him some antibiotics because his gums are awful, and the cleaning went fairly quickly and easily.
Go home, he ate his dinner, everything seems normal. Then he went to bed. And started dreaming, I think. He was yelling at people, telling them not to do things, said someone was earning $9.15 an hour, and he didn’t sound happy about it. Heard him complaining he was cold. About 4:00 a.m., he starts calling me, saying someone is starting a fire. Explained to him there was no fire and told him to go back to sleep. Not sure if he did, but I kept hearing him fussing at someone.
Tuesday, I got up at 6:30 a.m., as usual, I’m in the shower and he starts yelling for me to “Come here right now!” Told him to hang on to his shorts and I would be there when I got clothes on. When I got dressed, he is mad as a hornet because those guys had that fire burning, but they just put it out. Asked where the fire was, he said under the porch. Then he tells me he tried to put the fire out with the garden hose, but couldn’t and then said “those three guys who came in put the fire out.” OK. Three guys. What three guys? Told him there was no fire, he got angrier. I decided it wasn’t worth it and shut up. He sort of got settled down.
I went to do another interview. Got home just in time to get his lunch from the Meal on Wheels guy. Go in the house, and he is all put out, wants to know who those three guys were. What three guys? He doesn’t know who they were, but said they came in while he was taking a shPOOPt, and were sitting in the living room when he came out of the bathroom. He said the men wouldn't talk to him, just sat there looking at him. Oh, good. Nothing is out of place in the house. Nothing missing. I’m thinking he is still crazy, and I was right. He ate dinner and took his customary afternoon nap. I decided I wasn’t going in to the office with him acting goofy. He is asleep a little while and starts talking again. Then he is arguing with someone, can’t quite figure out what’s going on, so I asked him who he was talking to. He said “That guy standing over there” and points at the piano. Now, unless there was an invisible man, there was no guy on the piano. I told him there was no man. He got really mad.
By now, I’ve decided something isn’t right (ain’t I smart!) and decided he was going to the doctor Wednesday (Wednesday is one of the regular days they have someone in the office near us.) Also got chicken and gave him another dose of the antibiotics they use before his cleaning.
Tuesday night, he was up about every 90 minutes to 2 hours. He would get up and start walking into the living room. I’d get up and ask him why he was getting up in the middle of the night. He would get disgusted and go back to bed. About 3:00 a.m., I hear him complaining his back and hips hurt. This is not a surprise to me, he went to bed before it even got dark, I would think he would ache from lying there that long! About 4:00 a.m., he got up, said he was going to sit in his chair ‘cause his hips hurt. And he did. I didn’t hear another peep out of him the rest of the night.
Wednesday I call the doctor’s office and discover the person we wanted to see wasn’t in that day, and the other guy was double booked. Told me to call the Broomfield office and get a message to the one we wanted to see. So I call, leave a message, and of course, the didn’t call back until after 5:00 p.m. By then I had already made an appointment for Thursday in Thornton. Jerks. I prepared for another fun night.
But the fun night didn’t materialize. He was quiet, slept through the night, no yelling and no wandering.
Thursday we go to the doctor. He is no longer talking crazy. She can’t find anything wrong with him. No urinary tract infection. No real answers. If is was a mini-stroke, there appears to be no loss of motion. That was the strangest thing. He was never unsteady (well, any more than usual) on his feet, was talking as well as ever, no physical signs of anything.
I was too chicken to leave him and go to work Friday. He was fine all night Thursday night and Friday. Anyone have a nice padded cell I could borrow? I think I need one.
The big question remains, what was that all about? Did getting his teeth cleaned shake his marbles loose temporarily? We have no idea, but I’d really not like to do a repeat of this week in the near future!
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Greyhound "Adoption" Idiots
This is an old rant, many have heard it, but it feels good to vent. Again.
I’ve been involved in greyhound adoption since 1994. Adopted my first two greyhounds then. Got involved with Rocky Mountain Greyhound Adoption. Got conned into helping run the adoption group. Got conned into helping with the blood donor program.
Fifteen years and twelve of my own adopted greyhounds later, I still love the dogs, but some of the people give me a major case of gas.
I started out anti-greyhound racing. I was stupid, had no clue that a lot of the garbage people told me was a bunch of lies. I believed the greyhounds were abused, mistreated creatures. What I didn’t know in the beginning was that the bad impression I had of the greyhound racing industry was really a very bad greyhound adoption person.
See, the adoption kennel I first adopted from was disgusting. Filthy. The dogs were dirty. Didn’t wear muzzles during turnout. One of my first greyhounds, ShyFly, had a huge hole in her neck from being attacked by the other dogs in the kennel.
Made for a very bad first impression, to put it mildly. Yeah, I was very anti-racing, and very vocal about it.
Boy, was I stupid. Finally agreed to meet Torri, (our adoption coordinator and someone I consider an adopted little sister), and I cannot tell you how embarrassed I am that I was “drinking the koolaid.” Over time, I met many of the greyhound breeders in Colorado, and I am proud to call a number of them friends.
There was the old guy who cried when his adopted former racers would jump up and give him kisses.
There was the guy the dogs would knock their adopters over to get to.
There were the owners who cried when their dogs were injured.
There were the owners who begged us to take pups for adoption that had medical problems. Who offered to pay the vet bills.
I spent nights in the race kennel with Torri when she had sick dogs, giving them IV fluids, praying they would live.
I was there when race pups were born. Watched owners sit with the broods during difficult deliveries. I saw owners cry when newborn pups didn’t take that first breath. Watched them patiently bottle feed the weak pups.
Our adoption group operated out of Torri’s race kennel for several years. When she was forced to move from the farm she was renting, it was racing greyhound owners who offered her, and our adoption group, space in their kennel. Who offered to let us build an adoption kennel on their property.
It was largely racing greyhound owners who helped us fund that adoption kennel. It was a scary, and awesome, experience. Building that kennel with space for 18 dog runs, a kitchen, storage area and bathroom for our adoption operation.
Yet, despite the positive experiences we have had with the greyhound racing industry, there are those who believe anyone involved in greyhound racing is nothing short of a relative of the devil, himself.
There was a greyhound adoption person in New Mexico, Candy, who also started out very anti-racing. She and I had many nasty e-mail exchanges. Then the adoption group she worked with decided their primary mission would no longer be placing greyhounds. Candy and her husband started a new adoption group, and over time, she had a very similar experience to mine. She met a number of racing people who were good, kind folks who loved their dogs and wanted the best for their dogs. I now consider her to be a good friend, and I hope she feels the same about me.
Recently, her adoption group made arrangements to adopt two greyhounds to a university in New Mexico as mascots. The adoption plan is very comprehensive. It includes where the dogs will be housed, which veterinarian will be providing medical care, who will be exercising the dogs during the day, from the outline of the plan, I wouldn’t mind being the school mascot!
Yet those who are anti-racing, and therefore oppose Candy’s adoption group, have been on a campaign to torpedo these adoptions. The stupidity is pretty unbelievable.
Thankfully, the folks at the university are not being intimidated by the stupidity. I’d like to say kudos to Greyhound Pets of America-New Mexico Greyhound Connection and Eastern New Mexico University for sticking to their guns and doing what’s right for the greyhounds.
And shame on the anti-racing fanatics who cannot see beyond the tips of their noses and who cannot understand that the human beings involved in the greyhound racing industry are just that: human beings. Good people, bad people, smart people, not so smart people. But overall, they are people who care very much about their greyhounds and are willing to work hand in hand with greyhound adoption to insure they are all placed in good homes when they are finished with their careers as canine athletes.
If you have a minute, go to the GPA-NMGC website, http://www.gpa-nm.org/ and let them know you appreciate their efforts for the greyhounds!
I’ve been involved in greyhound adoption since 1994. Adopted my first two greyhounds then. Got involved with Rocky Mountain Greyhound Adoption. Got conned into helping run the adoption group. Got conned into helping with the blood donor program.
Fifteen years and twelve of my own adopted greyhounds later, I still love the dogs, but some of the people give me a major case of gas.
I started out anti-greyhound racing. I was stupid, had no clue that a lot of the garbage people told me was a bunch of lies. I believed the greyhounds were abused, mistreated creatures. What I didn’t know in the beginning was that the bad impression I had of the greyhound racing industry was really a very bad greyhound adoption person.
See, the adoption kennel I first adopted from was disgusting. Filthy. The dogs were dirty. Didn’t wear muzzles during turnout. One of my first greyhounds, ShyFly, had a huge hole in her neck from being attacked by the other dogs in the kennel.
Made for a very bad first impression, to put it mildly. Yeah, I was very anti-racing, and very vocal about it.
Boy, was I stupid. Finally agreed to meet Torri, (our adoption coordinator and someone I consider an adopted little sister), and I cannot tell you how embarrassed I am that I was “drinking the koolaid.” Over time, I met many of the greyhound breeders in Colorado, and I am proud to call a number of them friends.
There was the old guy who cried when his adopted former racers would jump up and give him kisses.
There was the guy the dogs would knock their adopters over to get to.
There were the owners who cried when their dogs were injured.
There were the owners who begged us to take pups for adoption that had medical problems. Who offered to pay the vet bills.
I spent nights in the race kennel with Torri when she had sick dogs, giving them IV fluids, praying they would live.
I was there when race pups were born. Watched owners sit with the broods during difficult deliveries. I saw owners cry when newborn pups didn’t take that first breath. Watched them patiently bottle feed the weak pups.
Our adoption group operated out of Torri’s race kennel for several years. When she was forced to move from the farm she was renting, it was racing greyhound owners who offered her, and our adoption group, space in their kennel. Who offered to let us build an adoption kennel on their property.
It was largely racing greyhound owners who helped us fund that adoption kennel. It was a scary, and awesome, experience. Building that kennel with space for 18 dog runs, a kitchen, storage area and bathroom for our adoption operation.
Yet, despite the positive experiences we have had with the greyhound racing industry, there are those who believe anyone involved in greyhound racing is nothing short of a relative of the devil, himself.
There was a greyhound adoption person in New Mexico, Candy, who also started out very anti-racing. She and I had many nasty e-mail exchanges. Then the adoption group she worked with decided their primary mission would no longer be placing greyhounds. Candy and her husband started a new adoption group, and over time, she had a very similar experience to mine. She met a number of racing people who were good, kind folks who loved their dogs and wanted the best for their dogs. I now consider her to be a good friend, and I hope she feels the same about me.
Recently, her adoption group made arrangements to adopt two greyhounds to a university in New Mexico as mascots. The adoption plan is very comprehensive. It includes where the dogs will be housed, which veterinarian will be providing medical care, who will be exercising the dogs during the day, from the outline of the plan, I wouldn’t mind being the school mascot!
Yet those who are anti-racing, and therefore oppose Candy’s adoption group, have been on a campaign to torpedo these adoptions. The stupidity is pretty unbelievable.
Thankfully, the folks at the university are not being intimidated by the stupidity. I’d like to say kudos to Greyhound Pets of America-New Mexico Greyhound Connection and Eastern New Mexico University for sticking to their guns and doing what’s right for the greyhounds.
And shame on the anti-racing fanatics who cannot see beyond the tips of their noses and who cannot understand that the human beings involved in the greyhound racing industry are just that: human beings. Good people, bad people, smart people, not so smart people. But overall, they are people who care very much about their greyhounds and are willing to work hand in hand with greyhound adoption to insure they are all placed in good homes when they are finished with their careers as canine athletes.
If you have a minute, go to the GPA-NMGC website, http://www.gpa-nm.org/ and let them know you appreciate their efforts for the greyhounds!
Sunday, November 22, 2009
What Am I Thankful For?
Been trying to decide what sort of verbal (written) diarrhea to subject the world to next, and thought maybe a sensible, seasonal topic would be good.
What am I thankful for? And not in any particular order....
Obviously, I’m thankful I have a job! It’s been an ugly time and so many people have lost their jobs, I have to be thankful I have mine, even if I often think it’s gong to be the death of me before retirement gets here. Working for judges isn’t always the easiest thing to do. There is a joke one of the supervisors told me my first day in the office, a guy goes to Heaven and meets St. Peter at the gate. St. Peter greets him and invites him in. The man says he would love to enter, but he cannot imagine spending eternity with lawyers, so he needs to know if there are lawyers in Heaven. St. Peter laughs and says, of course there are no attorneys! Never had any. So the man enters Heaven and one of the first people he sees is wearing a black robe and has a gavel. The man is very upset and goes to find St. Peter. He says, “St. Peter, you lied! Not only is there an attorney in Heaven, he’s a judge!” St. Peter chuckles and says “That’s not an attorney, that just God! He thinks he is a federal judge!” Yep, we all like it...
I’m thankful Pa appears to be in good health. As crazy as he makes me sometimes, I’m thankful I have this time to spend with him. (Also thankful I got to spend a couple of years with Mom here before she died.) Sometimes, he will tell me stories from back when he was working and usually they are hysterical. I wonder if Kenny and Calvin and Andy and Whitey and all of the rest have told as many stories about him? I wonder how they all didn't kill themselves...
I’m thankful for my dogs. Yes, they make me crazy, too, but they are also the epitome of unconditional, unlimited love. I have also met some wonderful people through the greyhounds. Strange, but wonderful!
I’m thankful for my friends:
Lil & John, I don’t know why, but whenever I have a melt down, they seem to be there to give me a hand. I've known Lil since grade school, so I guess she is one of my “oldest” friends! (Don’t you love that, Lil?)
Diane & Steve, also always there when I need a hand, or a shoulder to cry on! I don’t know what I would have done had you guys not been there to help with the house in Illinois. Diane is another one of those “old” school friends...
Torri & Judith, both “greyhound” friends, but sort of more like little sisters now. Wow, how many times have we cried on each other’s shoulders? Linda & Herb, also “greyhound” friends, but they sure came through when we were losing our minds!
Donna, my former neighbor and now Guardian Angel, what would I do without her? She is always there when shPOOPt happens!
Robin & Joe and their kids, Zakary, Kayley and Brennan. They are fairly recent “adoptions” to my family, I never had a little brother, so I adopted Joe and his family! They have really been there, too, when the shPOOPt hit the fan!
JoAnn, she sort of fits in the “friends” and “family” category. We have so much in common, and can sit and talk until the wee hours of the morning. If we can both stay awake! (Now, if we could only get Joey to get a computer!)
I’m thankful for the Internet! It has allowed me to reconnect with more old friends! DJ & Ann & Merridy, I really want to get together with you guys in 2010! Pam! It’s been a long time since high school, and boy, have we both changed?!
The Internet has allowed me to reconnect with family! Aunt Rosie & Millie & Tisha & Cheryl & Diane & Harry & Gerry & Jill & Beverly. We know how bad I am at letters, so it’s a good thing!
I’m thankful for the Internet introducing me to new friends:
Diego, we couldn’t be more different, yet there is a common bond. You know why I think we understand each other.
Tor & Jenn, you continue to amaze me. I’ve never had a lot of patience and forgiveness hasn’t always been my forte, either! You show loyalty I only wish I could emulate!
I’m even thankful for Carol & Phil & Kathy, my sister, brother-in law and niece. Mom always said Carol was thrilled to have a little sister. Some days I wonder if Carol would have been as “thrilled” had she known what she was getting into...
I’m thankful for re-discovering Music this year. You may not understand that, but music has always been something that touches me deeply, makes my life happier and more complete. I’m thankful for discovering Adam Lambert, Sam Sparro, Ferras, and Cassidy Haley this year.
I’m thankful to live in the United States. I’ve met people from many other countries through my job, and you don’t appreciate what you have until you hear what it’s like to live in some of those places. There is a reason people will chance death walking through deserts, hiding away on ships, jumping on moving trains, trying to make it on rafts.
I’m thankful for all of the members of the armed forces, past and current, active duty and reserve, who serve our country. Thanks to their families who have also sacrificed for all of us to have this great country in which we live. There is that saying, “Freedom Isn’t Free,” and you all know that better than anyone.
I’m thankful for all of our law enforcement community. I’ve known those crazy people who go undercover, who put themselves out there to bring in the “scary” people I only have to talk to with bars and bulletproof glass between us.
I’d like to be thankful for attorneys, but... I’m kidding! Their's is very difficult job, whether it’s from the prosecution side or the defense side. Our criminal justice system does not work without both.
And I’m thankful to be alive! Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to subject you to these ramblings!
What am I thankful for? And not in any particular order....
Obviously, I’m thankful I have a job! It’s been an ugly time and so many people have lost their jobs, I have to be thankful I have mine, even if I often think it’s gong to be the death of me before retirement gets here. Working for judges isn’t always the easiest thing to do. There is a joke one of the supervisors told me my first day in the office, a guy goes to Heaven and meets St. Peter at the gate. St. Peter greets him and invites him in. The man says he would love to enter, but he cannot imagine spending eternity with lawyers, so he needs to know if there are lawyers in Heaven. St. Peter laughs and says, of course there are no attorneys! Never had any. So the man enters Heaven and one of the first people he sees is wearing a black robe and has a gavel. The man is very upset and goes to find St. Peter. He says, “St. Peter, you lied! Not only is there an attorney in Heaven, he’s a judge!” St. Peter chuckles and says “That’s not an attorney, that just God! He thinks he is a federal judge!” Yep, we all like it...
I’m thankful Pa appears to be in good health. As crazy as he makes me sometimes, I’m thankful I have this time to spend with him. (Also thankful I got to spend a couple of years with Mom here before she died.) Sometimes, he will tell me stories from back when he was working and usually they are hysterical. I wonder if Kenny and Calvin and Andy and Whitey and all of the rest have told as many stories about him? I wonder how they all didn't kill themselves...
I’m thankful for my dogs. Yes, they make me crazy, too, but they are also the epitome of unconditional, unlimited love. I have also met some wonderful people through the greyhounds. Strange, but wonderful!
I’m thankful for my friends:
Lil & John, I don’t know why, but whenever I have a melt down, they seem to be there to give me a hand. I've known Lil since grade school, so I guess she is one of my “oldest” friends! (Don’t you love that, Lil?)
Diane & Steve, also always there when I need a hand, or a shoulder to cry on! I don’t know what I would have done had you guys not been there to help with the house in Illinois. Diane is another one of those “old” school friends...
Torri & Judith, both “greyhound” friends, but sort of more like little sisters now. Wow, how many times have we cried on each other’s shoulders? Linda & Herb, also “greyhound” friends, but they sure came through when we were losing our minds!
Donna, my former neighbor and now Guardian Angel, what would I do without her? She is always there when shPOOPt happens!
Robin & Joe and their kids, Zakary, Kayley and Brennan. They are fairly recent “adoptions” to my family, I never had a little brother, so I adopted Joe and his family! They have really been there, too, when the shPOOPt hit the fan!
JoAnn, she sort of fits in the “friends” and “family” category. We have so much in common, and can sit and talk until the wee hours of the morning. If we can both stay awake! (Now, if we could only get Joey to get a computer!)
I’m thankful for the Internet! It has allowed me to reconnect with more old friends! DJ & Ann & Merridy, I really want to get together with you guys in 2010! Pam! It’s been a long time since high school, and boy, have we both changed?!
The Internet has allowed me to reconnect with family! Aunt Rosie & Millie & Tisha & Cheryl & Diane & Harry & Gerry & Jill & Beverly. We know how bad I am at letters, so it’s a good thing!
I’m thankful for the Internet introducing me to new friends:
Diego, we couldn’t be more different, yet there is a common bond. You know why I think we understand each other.
Tor & Jenn, you continue to amaze me. I’ve never had a lot of patience and forgiveness hasn’t always been my forte, either! You show loyalty I only wish I could emulate!
I’m even thankful for Carol & Phil & Kathy, my sister, brother-in law and niece. Mom always said Carol was thrilled to have a little sister. Some days I wonder if Carol would have been as “thrilled” had she known what she was getting into...
I’m thankful for re-discovering Music this year. You may not understand that, but music has always been something that touches me deeply, makes my life happier and more complete. I’m thankful for discovering Adam Lambert, Sam Sparro, Ferras, and Cassidy Haley this year.
I’m thankful to live in the United States. I’ve met people from many other countries through my job, and you don’t appreciate what you have until you hear what it’s like to live in some of those places. There is a reason people will chance death walking through deserts, hiding away on ships, jumping on moving trains, trying to make it on rafts.
I’m thankful for all of the members of the armed forces, past and current, active duty and reserve, who serve our country. Thanks to their families who have also sacrificed for all of us to have this great country in which we live. There is that saying, “Freedom Isn’t Free,” and you all know that better than anyone.
I’m thankful for all of our law enforcement community. I’ve known those crazy people who go undercover, who put themselves out there to bring in the “scary” people I only have to talk to with bars and bulletproof glass between us.
I’d like to be thankful for attorneys, but... I’m kidding! Their's is very difficult job, whether it’s from the prosecution side or the defense side. Our criminal justice system does not work without both.
And I’m thankful to be alive! Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to subject you to these ramblings!
Friday, November 6, 2009
The Tale of the Basement Dweller
When I moved to Colorado, I initially needed someone to help with the rent for a while. Met the person I “fondly” call the “Basement Dweller.” For simplicity’s sake, I’ll refer to him as BD. Now, there was an interesting person!
Lesson No. 1: Do not use a roommate finding service.
My first clue should have been that he described himself as “semi-retired” while in his early 40's. Second clue should have been the “extreme comb-over” that took about half a can of hair spray to keep in place. Third clue, well, when someone tells you they are creating a “light center” so aliens can find him... but I’m getting ahead of this story.
When BD came to meet me as a potential rent sharing person, I’m sure I did a double-take when he said he wasn’t working, but was living off a sizeable settlement he received from a former employer. He even produced a bank statement to prove he had the financial ability to pay rent for an extended period of time. Since there were no other potential roomies, I let him move into the basement bedroom of the house I was renting. My parents were not thrilled I had a man living in the basement. I think they worried about my “virtue.” After meeting him, they no longer had any of those concerns.
I soon learned the reason he decided to stop working and live on his savings was because he was educating himself in everything and anything “new age.” That isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but when that is your sole occupation...
I eventually bought a house, and decided it would be financially to my advantage to let him move with me. OK, I thought I still needed the money. In retrospect, I don’t think I needed it all that bad.
Lesson No. 2: Beware of pyramids.
BD would spend time lying on the roof, contemplating the universe. He would go out in the back yard and hug the trees. Literally. The best one was when he built a pyramid out of pipe in the basement, drew a five pointed star inside it on the floor, and added crystals, rocks, candles, “stuff,” along with a cushion so he could meditate. In the pyramid. After he got it finished, he came upstairs into the living room, and started crawling across the floor, holding his hands about two inches off the floor. Of course, I had to ask what he was doing. (I’m sure you already know!) He was trying to see if he could feel the “energy” coming up through the floor from the top of the pyramid. Then he told me that he was building a “light center” in the basement (now, I have to think a basement would not be an ideal place for “light” anything.) Of course, I asked what might that mean. I learned he was trying to send a signal to the aliens. I was never sure if they were just coming to visit, or coming to take him away.
Then there was the day I came home from work and found he had shaved his head (which was a good thing since it was about 1/3 bald in the first place) and had face paint on. Can I say he scared the devil out of me? Yep, that’s putting it mildly.
I did like his cat. Was a very nice cat. Well, I liked him until he started, um, peepeeing on the carpet in the basement. I sort of lost my fondness for him then.
Lesson No. 3: Always have an exit strategy.
Exit for the renter, that is. After a while, I really didn’t want to deal with his eccentricities any more, but let’s be honest, he had no incentive to leave. So I gave him incentive. We had a guy helping at the greyhound adoption kennel who was truly a PITA. (If you don’t know what that means, I’ll explain it some day.) He needed a place to stay for a short time, I figured BD would not appreciate having to share the house with someone who was actually at the house during the day. I was right! Less than a week, and I found him packing up his stuff and moving on to who knows where. Not too long after that, roomie number 2 moved on. I finally had peace and quiet! I had my house to myself!
It was one of those experiences that you look back and laugh. You also think “whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” And finally, you think, “Ain’t never gonna do THAT again!”
The pyramid is long gone. The basement is now full of books and furniture. I haven’t gone out to hug the trees, I hope they can forgive me. I am a little concerned that the aliens will get a belated signal from the “light center” and stop by. I don’t know what I will tell them, he didn’t leave a forwarding address!
Lesson No. 1: Do not use a roommate finding service.
My first clue should have been that he described himself as “semi-retired” while in his early 40's. Second clue should have been the “extreme comb-over” that took about half a can of hair spray to keep in place. Third clue, well, when someone tells you they are creating a “light center” so aliens can find him... but I’m getting ahead of this story.
When BD came to meet me as a potential rent sharing person, I’m sure I did a double-take when he said he wasn’t working, but was living off a sizeable settlement he received from a former employer. He even produced a bank statement to prove he had the financial ability to pay rent for an extended period of time. Since there were no other potential roomies, I let him move into the basement bedroom of the house I was renting. My parents were not thrilled I had a man living in the basement. I think they worried about my “virtue.” After meeting him, they no longer had any of those concerns.
I soon learned the reason he decided to stop working and live on his savings was because he was educating himself in everything and anything “new age.” That isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but when that is your sole occupation...
I eventually bought a house, and decided it would be financially to my advantage to let him move with me. OK, I thought I still needed the money. In retrospect, I don’t think I needed it all that bad.
Lesson No. 2: Beware of pyramids.
BD would spend time lying on the roof, contemplating the universe. He would go out in the back yard and hug the trees. Literally. The best one was when he built a pyramid out of pipe in the basement, drew a five pointed star inside it on the floor, and added crystals, rocks, candles, “stuff,” along with a cushion so he could meditate. In the pyramid. After he got it finished, he came upstairs into the living room, and started crawling across the floor, holding his hands about two inches off the floor. Of course, I had to ask what he was doing. (I’m sure you already know!) He was trying to see if he could feel the “energy” coming up through the floor from the top of the pyramid. Then he told me that he was building a “light center” in the basement (now, I have to think a basement would not be an ideal place for “light” anything.) Of course, I asked what might that mean. I learned he was trying to send a signal to the aliens. I was never sure if they were just coming to visit, or coming to take him away.
Then there was the day I came home from work and found he had shaved his head (which was a good thing since it was about 1/3 bald in the first place) and had face paint on. Can I say he scared the devil out of me? Yep, that’s putting it mildly.
I did like his cat. Was a very nice cat. Well, I liked him until he started, um, peepeeing on the carpet in the basement. I sort of lost my fondness for him then.
Lesson No. 3: Always have an exit strategy.
Exit for the renter, that is. After a while, I really didn’t want to deal with his eccentricities any more, but let’s be honest, he had no incentive to leave. So I gave him incentive. We had a guy helping at the greyhound adoption kennel who was truly a PITA. (If you don’t know what that means, I’ll explain it some day.) He needed a place to stay for a short time, I figured BD would not appreciate having to share the house with someone who was actually at the house during the day. I was right! Less than a week, and I found him packing up his stuff and moving on to who knows where. Not too long after that, roomie number 2 moved on. I finally had peace and quiet! I had my house to myself!
It was one of those experiences that you look back and laugh. You also think “whatever doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” And finally, you think, “Ain’t never gonna do THAT again!”
The pyramid is long gone. The basement is now full of books and furniture. I haven’t gone out to hug the trees, I hope they can forgive me. I am a little concerned that the aliens will get a belated signal from the “light center” and stop by. I don’t know what I will tell them, he didn’t leave a forwarding address!
Saturday, October 24, 2009
I’m Not Getting Old
Yes, I realize that getting older happens every day. That isn’t really what I mean. It’s late, and here I sit contemplating whether it’s safe to go to sleep. See, my 81 year old father lives with me, and he has been making me crazy today. OK, crazier than I usually am. It started last night, or rather, early this morning...
At 4:25 a.m., I hear his LifeAlert alarm go off. It’s a little button he wears around his neck that he is supposed to push that will signal the phone to call the LifeAlert people. It makes a really loud screeching noise. It’s enough to bring you straight up out of a sound sleep. The LifeAlert people, in turn, check to see if he needs assistance and call for help, if needed. I get up, I’m half-asleep, hear the phone dialing, can’t quite figure out what’s going on. Father is in bed, has the LifeAlert button held up to his ear, and he is clicking the button. The LifeAlert guy is now talking over the phone, I’m trying to get Father to stop pushing the button and tell the guy on the phone that we are OK at the same time.
The guy on the phone laughs and tells me to have a nice night (yeah, right!). I foolishly ask father what the devil he was doing. He says “I dunno!” Oh, good. Ask him if he feels all right, if he was having a bad dream. “I dunno!” Then he says he needs some toast. It’s now 4:45 am. I make toast. He has toast, then needs a drink of water.
I go back to bed about 5:20 am. About 6:00, I hear noise in there, again. He appears to be dreaming, and is having one heck of an argument with someone. For my sanity, he needs to wake up. He doesn’t wake up gracefully, (I come by that honestly) get him settled down and try again to go back to sleep. Gave up about 7:30, got up and decide to go out to the adoption kennel. Go check on him. He is snoring up a storm. Figures. He can sleep, I can’t. He wakes up before I leave, and he appears to be fine.
Get back from the kennel, feed Father, then settle down to read and, hopefully, take a nap. Of course, since I want to nap, he wants to talk. Eventually, he gets up, heads down the hall, and I hear a crash. He has decided he is going back to bed. At 3:00 pm. He tried to sit before he was close enough to the bed (did I mention that he has really bad vision, has had a stroke, and his balance stinks?) Pick him up off the floor and try to convince him it’s too early to go to bed. No dice. He is going. End of story.
I sit and read and wonder if I should be concerned. About 9:30 pm, I go check on him for about the 10th time. He is getting undressed. Asked him what the devil he is doing, he says he is cold and he is going to put his clothes on. He wears a sweatshirt and sweat pants for pajamas. Told him it’s 9:30 at night, and he decides maybe he will just go back to bed.
Now it’s almost midnight, he is talking in his sleep again, and I’m wondering if he will stay in bed, or if he will be giving me more excitement that I don’t need. I can’t get mad at him, I know he can’t see, doesn’t hear well, and while he is still able to do the basics, he doesn’t get around well. I know he is frustrated at his life, and there really isn’t much either one of us can do about it.
Don't misunderstand. I don't regret for one minute having him live with me. I just worry about him. A lot.
Then I wonder, how will I handle life if my life becomes like his? Hopefully, that’s a long way down the road yet, but it’s something I think about. How would I handle being forced to leave my home. Not be able to drive, to go where I want to go. Couldn’t cook my own meals. What if I couldn’t see well enough to watch the 42" TV I have hanging on the wall about 10 feet from his chair? Couldn’t hear well enough to listen to TV or the radio?
Many have heard me say, in jest, that I’m saving a .38 bullet in case the time comes when I just can’t stand my life any more. I’m not so sure I’m kidding.
At 4:25 a.m., I hear his LifeAlert alarm go off. It’s a little button he wears around his neck that he is supposed to push that will signal the phone to call the LifeAlert people. It makes a really loud screeching noise. It’s enough to bring you straight up out of a sound sleep. The LifeAlert people, in turn, check to see if he needs assistance and call for help, if needed. I get up, I’m half-asleep, hear the phone dialing, can’t quite figure out what’s going on. Father is in bed, has the LifeAlert button held up to his ear, and he is clicking the button. The LifeAlert guy is now talking over the phone, I’m trying to get Father to stop pushing the button and tell the guy on the phone that we are OK at the same time.
The guy on the phone laughs and tells me to have a nice night (yeah, right!). I foolishly ask father what the devil he was doing. He says “I dunno!” Oh, good. Ask him if he feels all right, if he was having a bad dream. “I dunno!” Then he says he needs some toast. It’s now 4:45 am. I make toast. He has toast, then needs a drink of water.
I go back to bed about 5:20 am. About 6:00, I hear noise in there, again. He appears to be dreaming, and is having one heck of an argument with someone. For my sanity, he needs to wake up. He doesn’t wake up gracefully, (I come by that honestly) get him settled down and try again to go back to sleep. Gave up about 7:30, got up and decide to go out to the adoption kennel. Go check on him. He is snoring up a storm. Figures. He can sleep, I can’t. He wakes up before I leave, and he appears to be fine.
Get back from the kennel, feed Father, then settle down to read and, hopefully, take a nap. Of course, since I want to nap, he wants to talk. Eventually, he gets up, heads down the hall, and I hear a crash. He has decided he is going back to bed. At 3:00 pm. He tried to sit before he was close enough to the bed (did I mention that he has really bad vision, has had a stroke, and his balance stinks?) Pick him up off the floor and try to convince him it’s too early to go to bed. No dice. He is going. End of story.
I sit and read and wonder if I should be concerned. About 9:30 pm, I go check on him for about the 10th time. He is getting undressed. Asked him what the devil he is doing, he says he is cold and he is going to put his clothes on. He wears a sweatshirt and sweat pants for pajamas. Told him it’s 9:30 at night, and he decides maybe he will just go back to bed.
Now it’s almost midnight, he is talking in his sleep again, and I’m wondering if he will stay in bed, or if he will be giving me more excitement that I don’t need. I can’t get mad at him, I know he can’t see, doesn’t hear well, and while he is still able to do the basics, he doesn’t get around well. I know he is frustrated at his life, and there really isn’t much either one of us can do about it.
Don't misunderstand. I don't regret for one minute having him live with me. I just worry about him. A lot.
Then I wonder, how will I handle life if my life becomes like his? Hopefully, that’s a long way down the road yet, but it’s something I think about. How would I handle being forced to leave my home. Not be able to drive, to go where I want to go. Couldn’t cook my own meals. What if I couldn’t see well enough to watch the 42" TV I have hanging on the wall about 10 feet from his chair? Couldn’t hear well enough to listen to TV or the radio?
Many have heard me say, in jest, that I’m saving a .38 bullet in case the time comes when I just can’t stand my life any more. I’m not so sure I’m kidding.
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