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!"