MAKING MAGIC ONE DAY AT A TIME

There are no words. A day at the park with all five of my poodles and mutts. The air was sprinkled with magic dust as their laughter bellowed a symphony. Thank you Father, for all these blessings I have so graciously received.

ALLIE BOONE and WHITTY --You two melt my heart. 

BRITTON, KENLEY AND RAYNES --My heart runneth over.

TINY TREE, GRAND FOREST, & ME

I posted this on Facebook one night, too excited to sleep, after typing the words "The End" to my finsihed manuscript.

After almost four years, three computers, two espresso machines, three writing conferences from LA to NYC, 14 pitched agents and five long and difficult manuscript revisions I am done. It is a good feeling, an accomplishment I never thought I would reach. Thank you to Steve, an accomplished writer and editor who has graciously provided me feedback, confidence and support. A Pushcart 2013 award winner himself, I value his critique of my work.

But, I am wise enough to know-it's just the beginning. My story tree is standing alone, buried in the middle of a huge forest. Now, I have to find a way to show its individuality, and in the eye of the beholder, its worth, as they pause to take a look.

So, above is the little ole tree........

And here is the great, Big FOREST.......

As for ME -- I have read the books, attended the workshops,listened to lectures and studied the craft inside out. I could have chosen law school, maybe medical school. Okay, that's stretching it, I know, I know. But I am a writer at heart-- poetry to my memoir -- and stuff in between. Next, maybe a children's book for me. Hint: my keywords are Sassy, poodles, mutts and parlor. I have it outlined in my head already. For now, I will be busy clearing the path to help others see my tree, standing tall, nourished, and so wanting to be seen and admired.

Tender Love + Tween Adoration = Priceless

The chair may be small since she's growing up, yet, she still enjoys the comfort of my arms, our snuggle, the quiet whisper of a Sassy praise -- so deserved -- and my soft kiss against her forehead.  Britton, my first poodle, now age ten. How many ways do I love you?

GRANNIES AND NANNIES

It was “Sassy Take Care of Babies’ Day” –age one and two -- on Friday. I assured everyone I could to it – all day, one day -- I’d be fine. Clearly, Sara Britton’s fantastic nanny of 18 months –Lindsey -- worried about my capability sanity.

That girl does it all, even understands the language Allie Boone speaks -- long sentences in a gibberish dialect. It’s like this two-year-old lived in a foreign country in some previous life. Heck, I’m from Lake City; I should be able to understand any dialect.

Any who, I get text from Lindsey -- the fab nanny -- evening before my summons sitting. The following conversation was entirely text. Everyone should be lucky enough to have a nanny like Lindsey. You rock girl, this one’s for YOU!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lindsey: Are you watching the babies tomorrow? Would you like to know what to do/schedule?

Me: Yes, indeed. Would love to know. Taking them to gym at 9. (Translation- they have babysitters thereJ. Shame on me already.

Lindsey: Perfect –they will love that. Hopefully, they will both have had breakfast by the time you get them and Whit should have had his bottle. Take them to the gym. I would put pull-up on AB while she is at the gym. When you get back around 10, give them a snack. Whit needs a bottle around 11 (7 - 8 oz.) Lunch around 12:15. And then diapers and naps. Whit had his sound machine on. AB doesn’t like hers anymore.  And she goes on… Whit will poop after each bottle. Poop bags in his dresser top right.

Me: Whit may miss his nap at 10, I might be late. Hope I can get him there close enough. Thanks so much. I have everything in writing now. I am already shaking, knowing I WILL be off Lindsey’s schedule.

Lindsey: For lunch make AB a PB&J cut in 4ths, grapes and a granola bar (which are in canister on counter).Whit can have a grilled cheese (bread in cabinet pantry and cheese in fridge-assemble and toast in toaster. He LOVES grapes- cut them in 8ths. Cheerios in bottom of pantry for him too. Whit only takes one nap. Same time as AB. After lunch.

Me: Great! Thanks”J Are you kidding me, I’m not making all that stuff. Do I look like a short-order cook?

Lindsey: Also-you will need to give him a bottle before he naps. (Yes-right after he eats a big lunchJ. AB will need a pull up at nap time too. What! He eats too much.

Me: Holy Cow! Ok.

Lindsey: AB will watch TV all day if you let her. I mostly tell her no. Close all doors-let them play in main areas –it will save your sanity.

Me: Exactly, I got it. No TV unless I am looking for vodka and need a minute to find it. I hope she knows I’m kidding. There is a long pause until her next text. AGAIN, I hope she knows I’m kidding, or am I?

Lindsey: Movies on DVR, or channel 360, Sprouts which will have Calliou at noon (I usually let her watch it through lunch). AB Translations: “Spider”=Charlotte’s Web; “Mouse”= Ratatouille; “Up” =Happy Feet”; “Paint”= watercolors. Just get a dish where plates are and put a little water, ask her to get paper-she will. I think I am done-call with questions. GOOD LUCK!

Here’s how it really went down…..

·        Gym with built-in babysitters (1.5 hours= $6.00)

·        Garrett attached for support (1.5 hours= indoor a/c playground) “Fried chicken house of heaven” –Chick Fillet. Thank you Auntie G!

·        Finally DONE with help outings, we head back for naps-- texted instructions from Lindsey still embedded in my head.

·        Praise the Lord! Daddy Matt in drive-way, waiting to relief relieve me from duty: no diapers, sound machines, DVR settings, or poop bags. No need to search for vodka either, breaking those TV rules. They only drink wine anyway, the kind loaded with tannins. I have GERD, so it all worked out for the bestJ

 Lindsey and Whit

Lindsey and Allie Boone

SOY Terrific -- SOY Ingenious -- SOY Worthwhile

     I seldom endorse products by pen, but do occasionally share -- by mouth -- something wonderful I might stumble upon. Well, stumble I did, so sharing by pen I shall….

     On a regular trip to Walgreens with my mom last week we separated for shopping. She had her list: cat litter, magnifying mirror, alcohol (3 bottles), and peroxide. I had no list. The combination of products in her cart looked like some upcoming science project.  I lurked around the aisles while she continued shopping for a few more weird necessities...  

     I have curly –seriously curly –hair. This is not as asset by the way. One of my poodles asked me once. “Why does Mary iron your clothes Sassy, why can't you iron?”

“Well poodle, Sassy only irons her hair.”  Yes, true, I iron my hair every other day. Shocker!

     Any who, I found myself in front of the hair help products, an aisle I frequent: There she it was in front of me -- Remington Wet Straightening Iron --- infused with SOY. It looked so delicious, tempting in its  Eco-packaging, a recycled brown box, inscriped in blue lettering: Patented Soy Infused Plates.

     Okay, I eat soy, drink soy and now my hair could get infused with soy. They had me at hello SOY. I know, it sounds like complete B.S. Seriously, Remington is crazier than me saying that sH**.  BUT, it was patented so it must be sort of something, right? Would they lie?  There was more tease for Prissy too  --“this product DRIES, INFUSES SOY, STYLES all in ONE step. Can you believe it? Me neither. But I bought the sucker home ( $29.99) deciding it was so worth it. My time is too valuable to spend on a head of hair.

      I admit it, I was nervous -- a tiny bit -- afraid it might fry my soaking wet locks. No blow drying first, just straight to the iron –yikes! 

      I calmed my fear with a BIG glass of Chardonnay while I proceeded. Ugh, there was this LOUD hissing sound when the hot blade hit my wet hair. I turned my music up really loud, then the hissing became inaudible. I worked it, piece by piece.  Guess what –HOLY COW –it was true. My hair was softer than ever and stick-straight, PLUS full of yummy soy. Can you believe it? Me neither. Still, if I think it, maybe, just MAYBE, it could be true. I remain Pollyanna.

Happy, Happy July 4, 2013

I love this painting by artist, Gary Bodner. It is called Stars & Stripes, done in mixed media. It is such a happy image. What I love most though, his Made in USA stamp. Clever, unique, important, and close to my heart.
A Happy July 4th to everyone.....

BIRTHDAYS, DOUGHNUTS, and endless EARACHES

 What the heck is this thing?

 Let me just take a lick and see.....

 OMG---it was so good. I love sugar now..

 But, this ear has been hurting for days people. Can you please HELP me!

Whitman Jacobs turns one. My baby -- Sara Britton -- celebrates with her baby, Allie Boone, and daddy, Matt  (oh so cute himself ) sits close by. Beautiful family, inside and out. Life is good for Sassy.....

DUCT TAPE—WHO KNEW?

Somehow, LIFE and the quirking way we live NEVER cease to surprise me.

Let’s talk duct tape for just one minute here. It is the Modus Operandi of all deviants on Criminal Minds, Law & Order and Disappeared, right?  Those poor DEAD women: duct tape stretched across their lips, throats and bound hands, policemen standing over them shaking their heads. And the tape has always been an ugly grey color, matchless against their pasty white corpse.

Well, here’s a NEWS FLASH! Duct tape is newly designed: glittered, hot pinks, orange and more, paisley, check, and stripe. You can make a wallet, purse, Barbie dress or car –well, that’s a stretch --- with DUCT TAPE. Seriously!

I took two poodles out to spend their allowance and what did they want -- the only thing they wanted –duct tape.

I swear, I’m going to invent something this week. I am.  It must be ridiculous though, or it will never sell.  That makes it easy for me; I love me some ridiculous!

So from this day forward, when I have my occasional nightmare –a mean man grabs me from behind and throws me in the trunk of his car -- ready to do some unmentionables -- before dumping me in the green dumpster - I will now have my Technicolor dream showcasing a new version of duct tape covering my mouth. And, it will have sparkles and be hot pink.

HAPPY DUCTING EVERYONE….

 

EVEN NOW --26 YEARS LONG --HE IS REMEMBERED

 

 

An article was in the Lake City Reporter this past Sunday -- June 16, 2013 -- which happened to be Father's Day.  My father died almost 26 years ago, and yet, he is still being remembered.  Not just by me, my sisters and my mother.  But others it seems.  Thank you Mr. Williams, whoever you are, for your special gift of words. Mostly though, thank you for remembering.

GONE BUT NOT FORGOTTEN by Morris Williams

Dr. Lou Landrum: Both a general practitioner and a general surgeon, he practiced in a time when physicians made home visits.  He was known as being excellent at quickly and expertly diagnosing the cause of an illness and helping people get well.  He delivered countless babies and had "special pricing" for those unable to afford medical care.

He was still doctoring full time at 65 and gave this explanation:

"I keep working because a person has to have a goal to justify his existence on this planet."

I only hope I can live up to his mantra......

 

Enough Already!

 

Garrett's much better at photography than ole' Sass A Fras:

 

I know, I know!  You've seen enough, read enough and heard enough from me. But seriously, how cute are they?  I even dressed my Mutt up for just a minute, okay two minutes.  He hated it by the way.  Imagine!  There is now a "no vacancy" sign at my poodle parlor.  No sleep over with the older poodles, no boarders at all(guilt, guilt, guilt). This old gal is tired I'm  telling you. No more Sassy Day until --probably as soon as they ask me.  I am a YES slut.

Tomorrow -oh yeah!! "Mine, Mine, Mine!"  Maybe a massage, library, Starbucks(wet non-fat espresso with splash of steamed soy milk ( high maintenance diva), gym (ugh, doubtful), see my shut-in friend and maybe take her prettiness some food, visit my mom, water my plants, and send out get-well and sympathy cards. Now that sounds like a Prissy- Oh- So- Fun- Day to me.

SASSY'S "OH SO FUN DAY"

 Princess Kenley and Princess Avery with their polished nails and make-up faced smiles

Allie Boone, Poodle #3 trying to get it right girlfriend

 Pinky's up for High tea

 Kenley, Poodle #2, making sure no one is cuter than her

 #1 Poodle -Britton, with her beautiful sass

Allie Boone Poodle #3

Sassy's Just Not Right

Seriously!

Something is just not right about me.

It’s okay to say it with me, I understand.  Here’s why, well, at least one reason why.

I’m in Fresh Market, strolling along, enjoying the classical music, the fabulous boutique foods (my word, btw), and throwing one selectable after another in the cart.

Really hungry, I shouldn’t be shopping according to Dr. Oz and Oprah, but I am anyway, so get over it. I threw a frozen entrée --stacked eggplant lasagna -- in the cart.  Doesn’t that sound yummy, along with a fresh pizza (FM). I’m thinking I could have a sleep-over tonight with Poodle #1 & #2. They’ve been begging. Stop packing their bags Garrett; I’m still thinking about it. Okay, I’m just a nanosecond off in my story but stay with me.

Came home, unloaded said groceries and I was 1000 times hungrier than when I shopped. 
Well h-e-l-l-o!  Of course I was.  Nothing in that cart to really eat but bird food, except of course the frozen entrée. It said I could zap it right on in the microwave for only six short, little minutes.  Done!

So good, and it was crunchy too.  I’m wondering, “How did they make it so crunchy, maybe nuts, seeds, or seasonings? Remember I’m the organic Nazi.  I read the list of ingredients, nothing crunchy there.  I couldn't make this up.....

 Cardboard! That was the crunch I loved.  I had scraped and eaten the bottom of the nasty carton. I guess it’s what I deserved for eating like a dog and not transferring my food to a bowl like most humans.  Hence, Sassy's Poodle Parlor suits me to a T.  I guess those two poodles should do a "sleep over" after all.

 

Maybe tomorrow some cute pictures from yesterdays "Oh So Fun Day".  Lord, I want to thank you.  It was oh so fun!

SLEEP HAS LESS VALUE THAN YOU THINK -HONESTLY!

I don’t sleep much.  Well, I do, but only after pulling out my arsenal of props: the white noise from my sound machine, four pillows (two under the head, one under the knees, and one wrapped in my arms like a good lover), 2 magnesium tablets (one is never enough), a Xanax (Thank God I grind my teeth; my dentist suggested that sucker J) and here's the most important of all --- my pitch a*s black room -not a ray of light anywhere. 

Once all the characters are in place, I begin the next process: those prayers the nuns taught me three life-times ago: Our father, followed by three Hail Mary’s and The Act of Contrition. No matter I haven’t been a Catholic for forty years.  Sister Conception convinced me if I forgot one night, or God forbid, died in my sleep, I would never leave purgatory.  She’s been dead three decades and I’m still scared of her.

 Even after all that, no sleep comes. So, I start my meditation chant : Open heart; quiet mind; relax the body.  I say it over, and over, and over and over. 

I do finally sleep.  I know this because that’s when a chin hair grows.  Seriously, all women get them -- young women too. I know a twenty something gal who has them.  Relax, I’m not naming you. They must come at night because they aren’t there during the day.  Weird suckers!  I have to keep going to the gym for weight training just to have the strength and energy to pull it out.  It’s like a piece of fishing line or dental floss.  I think it’s the testosterone they prescribe in my natural bio-identical hormones.  I can bench press some heavy weights, okay, not that heavy, but I can’t get out one dang chin hair.   I'm going to all that trouble to sleep, just so it can sprout.  Does that make any sense at all? I'm not convinced there's that much value in a good night's sleep.  There are so many other things I could be doing besides nurturing this flesh garden.  Lord, what is the sense in it all?  Maybe this should follow my Act of Contrition.  My prayers need updating.

 

 

 

 

 

 

BOYS --MUTTS ---BOYS - OH MY!

It's pouring rain today, not enough boy toys, and way too little caffeine for Sassy.  Having my mutts boys for some visiting and babysitting.  It's a delicious mixture of Heaven and Hell, can I just say?  Well, dang!  It is.

Honestly, sweet Jesus! I just don't know what to do with them.  I never had brothers or sons, certainly never climbers.  I hate heights and have nightmares someone is throwing me off a bridge  six out of seven nights a week.  Granted, it's usually after watching Criminal Minds.  But, still....

Only now, in the ebb tide of my life, am I blessed with these Lambs of Jesus.  Writing and painting, well, I can forget it --they want no part of my pleasures.  They want me on the damn floor, rolling the ball, chasing them, pulling them off the tables, chairs, sinks and out of my dryer.  On top of that, the youngest little mutt - Whit - started walking and he's not even a year old.   I wanted to knock him down but his mother was watching me.

We are a new generation it seems, unlike our own parents.  Certainly, my parents!  I've repurchased car seats (expensive suckers), cribs (ditto), layettes, clothes, toys, bottles, diapers and monitors: full circle.  And so, as I create, borrow and steal ideas for entertaining, educating, or just plain handling my own poodles and mutts, I will share the same with you. 

One of my dearest friends --who wishes to remain nameless -- gave her suggestions.  I'm posting for anyone lucky enough to have some of these rascals running around their own house.

RAYNES

This is just the beginning. You just have to wear him out and keep him outside. Give him the hose or a sprinkler. Get him a truck and walk with him as he will push it up and down the street.

Move anything breakable you treasure out of sight. His curiosity will get the best of him,  he doesn’t want to break it,  he just has to mess with things.

Boys get busier and busier and just can’t sit still

Build forts inside with sheets, get him a flashlight, lots of legos, but that’s about it.

They just have to be moving all the time and their minds are conjuring up what they can create: potato guns, bombs, etc.

Lots of sports, etc. You just have to wear them out physically.

I didn’t ever read a book till the boys were in college, I don’t think!!!!

It’s just so different, but they are so sweet and no drama and love their mamas – think dirt and noise.

                                                                                         WHIT

My first thought, after her wonderful email.  Honestly!
"Ain't nobody got time for that!"

 

 

Mutts with Poodle Names

 

 

My Poodle Parlor welcomes the two newest non-poodles for boarding.  Boys, I know, crazy huh?  Such a swing for the normal Sassy stride.  Have no idea what to do with these guys, a couple of mutts.  Raynes, what a great poodle name, I think. Or a poet, maybe. Yet, he is a mutt. I'm not even allowed to dress him as my poodle.  Strict rules from his parents.  He loves high tea,serving from the poodle tea set though. He's such an adorable apricot non-poodle. 

 Whitman, another great poodle name is the other mutt allowed to board inside Sassy's Poodle Parlor. He's a big one, weighing in at 30#s and not yet a year old.  Boys! My Mutts! What will I ever do?

A Story

 

 

One of my favorite books is titled, A Million Miles in a Thousand Days, by Donald Miller.  It is a simple book with a profound meaning.

Books can be entertaining, suspenseful, funny, sad or reflective. Some are everything combined. I like the real page-turners myself.  But, who doesn’t?

I read a lot.  Some books I forget a day after finishing and others hang on forever.  I know this to be the latter of those two sceneries.

This pretty much sums up the message in his excellent book, the take away without having to read it, though you really should. 

Life is a story and how it is lived makes it either interesting or boring. 

So, I’ll live my life in hopes it will be a good story.  Pain, suffering, loss and grief are already in my story.  But, it humbled me and gave me the grace, character and empathy to help others who have and will walk my same path in their own story. I should reach for the stars, even if they are far, far away and seem unreachable.  I will be the protagonist who is fearless and willing to take chances in life, stepping away from my comfort zone and in to the unknown. I already have and I will again.  That's what makes a good story.  Who wants to read the mundane of someone uninteresting, unchallenged and unharmed?  Bring it on life…. 

Thank you, Donald Miller.  You inspire me to live in awe of the beauty everywhere and to notice everyone around me. In the end, I hope my life story is worth reading and remembered by those I’ve left behind. A page turner, that’s what I want.

 

 

 

Resorting to our back yard. Maybe stay-ca-tion really is the best vacation! It sure feels that way to me.....

Conversations: A Day in the Life of a Social Security Office

Holy Cow!  It's the only way to describe last Thursday when I made my first visit to a Social Security office.  I pushed open the glass doors smudged with multiple hand prints, finger prints, and I swear I saw a toe print.  Hubby Dale told me I should be collecting since I was now old enough.  I thought he was kidding, I really did, but he wasn't.  I am old enough. Barely.  Dang it!
I tried to handle this business over the phone, like with every other business in the world.  They wouldn't and couldn't. "Have to come in.....need to see your marriage license from last marriage."  Like I had  multiples marriages. Geez, people!  Can I just say I felt like an elites simply for having all my teeth.  It was a carnival, with more colorful characters than a Pat Conroy novel.  We waited our turn.  Dale listened for our name.  I listened to the people and their stories. I slipped my shining diamond off my finger and into my wallet.  It was seriously out of place. Me too.
Window #1 (a glass petition between applicant and SS employee)
Applicant : This is complicated, you hear me? Stop with the run-round."
SS: "What's the problem exactly?"
App: "Its complicated. Why you typing, stop typing, you  making it more complicated."
SS: "Well, I have to pull you up and see what's going on?"
App: "I'm telling you what happening. You people got my money and near five months. It be complicated."
SS: "Well, it seems we overpaid you by mistake and now we are just holding the money until it is recovered.  You have one more month."
App: "Who fault is that? It ain't my fault, it your fault, ain't it?" ( I think she's right, BTW) How am I suppose to eat? Stop that typing, you making it worse."
I felt so bad for the poor woman.  I wanted to argue her case-- Dale held me down. She needed her $$.  It was their mistake, they could take out a few $ a week from her money and get theirs money back, I say..
Window #2
Applicant: "I got nothing in child support, not one penny."
SS: "How many children should be supported, mam?"
Applicant: "Five in all, but each one has different daddy so you need to get after all of them."
Window #5 our turn: 
SS: "Mrs. Elrod, I see you married Mr. Elrod in 2000. Is that correct?"
Me: "Yes, it is."
SS: "That eliminates you then."
Me: "Eliminates me from what?"
SS: "Your collecting your late husband's social security. You would have to have married your second husband after you turned sixty."  Who knew?
Me: "You mean I could collect from 2 husbands if I hadn't married when I did? Maybe I could annul the second marriage, collect the first social security, and then get remarried?"
She didn't laugh.  The woman next door at Window #6 did.  She liked listening to others conversations too!

WRITING, PAINTING, POODLE PEOPLE, ME and now some MUTTS.

 

Well, here I am again after a L-O-N-G spell away.  Been so dang busy though and so have my peeps daughters.  They've been busy being rabbits and giving me baby boys. 
As you recall, I started this blog because my house was full of little people -- baby girls -- who I call my poodles.  They call me SASSY, hence, the name SASSY'S POODLE PARLOR.  I just don't think SASSY'S POODLE AND MUTT PARLOR does it for me.  Do YOU?
I have thought about it AND I think the boys can be poodles too.  After all, my daughters named them Raynes and Whitman.  Now, if they don't sound like poodles, who the heck does??

Been really busy, busy, busy writing my memoir.  What the heck does she have to say, you ask?  Plenty, I say.  Just way too much.  This memoir started in my head over a decade ago and it gives me no peace.  It wakes me up during the night, my characters talking to me making sure I don't forget them.  "Prissy, what you mean leaving this out? You best get it right, girl!"

Guess this could be the jacket flab, as they say.
As a conservative, southern housewife of twenty-five years  -- called Prissy --, if someone had told me I would one day be driving around town with a drunk, stoned black man named Willie sitting in my back seat, begging, - no ordering him into my house for the night, I would tell them they were nuts.  It happened though, after moving black caregivers into my house to help with my husband's end of life.  Simultaneously, I became an innocent character in a tragic, but often comical series of events: three separate robberies, attempted murder and other such goings-on.

Also, if someone had told me only fifteen months later, I'd be standing at the gate at London's Heath- row airport, my tragedy behind me and a love story beginning, or, I'd be wearing a clinging black dress, wobbling in my stiletto shoes, waiting for a fifty-year-old, workaholic and life-long bachelor I'd dated three decades earlier, I would've told them they were nuts. Yet, here I am.

This is a story about second chances with your first love.  Mine had blue eyes and I'm waiting for him to step off of the Concord.

Later on my painting.  It's a surprise!