Trip....UP

orbitz
Originally uploaded by mobpon

Stupid night.

Last month I made a reservation through ORBITZ for our 3 day stay in San Diego. Today, I found out that they made our reservation for THIS month - day. after. tomorrow.

After speaking to "Aries" (an Indian man) in Manila for 25 minutes, I was more confused than ever. And so was Aries. He had the reservation listed on his computer for next month as well.
He tried to contact the Marriott, but was unable to get through - even though it was 2 o'clock in the morning - not exactly "crunch time" for the front desk guy. Once I told him that I had already spoken to the man, he asked me to make a conference call so the three of us could work it out!

Idiot that I am, I woke Mark up. Turns out that we can't do a conference call using our good old home phone. I finally gave up on Orbitz and cancelled my reservation, then called James back at the Marriott and re-reserved!

Even though it was a huge hassle, it turns out that I got a lower rate ($18 less per night) than I had gotten through Orbitz. Now I can buy 30 churros at Disneyland!

My biggest problem now that the hotel is taken care of is that after being on hold for 20 minutes, I've lost my love for Pacabel's Cannon in D.

Made the Reservations!

University of California,San Diego
Originally uploaded by olasisucsd

Stephanie is graduating next month, and Sidney & Scott (DUH!) and I are going down for the gala. I booked our motel accommodations today, and wanted to show a photo of where we're staying. But I thought this photo of the University of CA San Diego library was a lot cooler.

Yeah. Good choice.

No scallops for me!

053/365 - Passport
Originally uploaded by armiller007

It was the trip we'd planned for months -

Mark has a yearly medical conference, and this year it is being held in Vancouver, BC, Canada. We had looked forward to it and were excited to have some time together away from 'reality.'

We were packing and preparing on Friday night to fly out on Saturday afternoon. The conference finishes up on Tuesday morning, but we decided to take an extra night for some "us" time, and fly back on Wednesday afternoon. I had checked the weather forecast and was really nervous because there was a chance of snow. SNOW. I haven't been in snow for 4 years, and my body starts to spasm when it hits 50, so I was preparing for the worst.

While I arranged the rows of thick socks and sweaters in my suitcase and pondered which coat to take, Mark opened our little safe to get my passport. Suddenly, he said, "Well, you don't have to worry about it any more" and tossed my passport to me across the bed.

So much for my evenings in a nice hotel, schmoozing with old friends, and dinners of scallops (I had actually dreamed about scallops!) in fine restaurants.

It expired in June 2009.

There are 2 very good things that have come of this:

1) On Saturday afternoon, I was hit HARD by the flu. The sobbing, cramping, feeling like death flu.

2) We're supposed to fly to Spain in November. If I would have found my expired passport the night before THAT trip, I would have jumped off a bridge.

So I'm looking at it like it's a good thing. And chanting, "Spain.Spain.Spain.Spain."

WasteVille

FarmVille
Originally uploaded by Games.com!

Oh, how I love farming.

I don't care if it's -20 degrees or a scorching mid-summer day. I can spend literally hours digging, planning the budget, seeding the soil, and purchasing outbuildings.

I happily move fence posts and corrals, check the barns for newborn calves, brush the horses, clip the sheep, and milk the goats. I gather eggs, share them with my neighbors, and pluck the feathers from my geese, turkeys, and ducks.

My neatly planted trees are harvested regularly, and I gather lovely bunches of flowers from my greenhouse and sell them from my stand.

Somehow I even find the time to tend to my own big yard - trimming the hedges and big evergreen trees, as well as tending the flowers - after shooing the cats out of their shade.

And all while sitting on my big butt - t.v. blaring in the background.

Aaaaahhhh, FarmVille-fantasy.

Forget the Chiuhuahua

Friday's "Huh?" Look
Originally uploaded by c h r i s t a b e l l e ✿

Well, this is what we got. Only a very, very sick one.

Her name is Andie, and we found her 9 days ago at the pound. She was spayed the next morning & we brought her stoned, limp, stinky body home.

Where she proceeded to pee, poop up Giardia parasites, and eventually cough up 1/2 of a lung. After a 2am trip to the 24 hour veterinary hospital, we found out that she had pneumonia and was gonna die like a dog if we didn't put her into isolation with an i.v. drip, yadda yadda for $2500 - $3500. And she might die anyway.

For the most part, we opted to care for her at home - pushing ringers lactate subcutaneously, feeding 'pill pockets' of antibiotics, sprinkling powder onto her food, and thumping her sides.

When things started to look pretty hopeless, she ended up spending 2 days (with a night at home in between) in the hospital where they did the same thing. For a lot of money.

She liked us better.

Unfortunately, our house smells like an infected spitoon because for 2 days she choked and choked and choked and choked and we wiped and wiped and lysoled and scooped and hosed and bleached and cried and yet....

SHE LIVES!!!

Potty training aside, things are looking up.

Repentance

Presley Paige
Originally uploaded by KariMogensen

I'll come clean.

I prefer big dogs. I have always considered any dog under 20 pounds a 'drop-kick dog.' Not just useless, but unworthy of the breath that they steal from REAL animals.

I've especially despised Chihuahuas. I've always found them yappy, unsmiling rodents who dart up to you so fast that your ankles are bloody before you've had time to take evasive action. Unless they are mincing and wiggling on your lap, slathering kisses into your mouth as their smiling owners say, "Oooh. He LIKES you!"

Kill them all. Stupid dogs. Stupid owners.

But then I met Mocha. My cousin's totally, un-nasty TINY dog. I had no idea that Chihuahuas can fetch little balls. That they are fierce and fearless at tug-of-war and play-growl like they can whip a 200 pound man. That they really CAN be taught not to eat the neighbor lady.

And they are soooo stinkin' cute when they get sleepy and their yawns are so big that they almost turn inside out.

I want a Chihuahua. And I would only let it bite mean people who call them 'drop-kick dogs.'

I guess you can teach an old lady new tricks.

HOLY CAKE CUTENESS, BATMAN!

leopard print bag
Originally uploaded by CAKE Chester

Oh, how I adore cute cakes.

Actually, not so much the cake part. But the sculpting, shaping, frosting, fonting (?), accessorizing, and general cute-ing-up of the cake makes me werry, werry happy!

That's all.

My new addiction . . .

'I Love You' Hearts & Flowers
Originally uploaded by ConsumedbyCake

No, it's not the eating of the cupcakes. It's looking at pictures of them.

I stumbled on the website Cakewrecks.com and have found a new reason to live - and troll the net.

There are bazillion cupcake sites - meaning there are bazillion little shops that specialize in only cupcakes. Yes. Only. Cupcakes.

Check out the following:

cupcakestakethecake.com
bakerella.com
ditsydaisie.com
(and all of their links)

You'll be touched by the artistry, creativity, and basic temptiness/ation of these creations. And if you're delusional like me, you'll say,
"Pffft. I could do that."

Naturally, since I don't have a history of baking - or cooking, for that matter - I've obviously decided that I would be a perfect maker of cupcakes. So I begged for a mixer for my birthday. And not just any mixer, may I add. I begged for the best. And after much cajoling and whining, Mark told me to "go ahead and order what you want."

So in 2 weeks, I will open a brand new KitchenAid mixer, already wrapped in gift paper and delivered by UPS from Amazon.com. Of course, it will be accompanied by a sweet card from my supportive spouse, who has learned after 27 years of marriage that reasoning does not work.

Let's see:
Great husband.
Wonderful kids.
Lovely home.
KitchenAid & pictures of cupcakes.

Life doesn't get any better than this.

Scott's Surgery

It's OVER!

For the past 6 months, Scott has been anxiously awaiting jaw surgery. I, on the other hand, have just been anxious.

He's been in braces for about 9 years, but he still had a severe underbite - only his back teeth touched, and he had to "chew" with his tongue. Every few months he's had x-rays taken to find out if he'd stopped growing - finally at the age of 22, he's full-sized!

So 9 days ago, Dr. Felice O'Ryan and Dr. Hendrickson performed the surgery at Kaiser Hospital in Oakland, California. The surgery was supposed to take 4 or 5 hours, but was completed in 3 1/2 because everything went smoothly and 'picture perfect.' When we were allowed to see him after he got out of recovery a couple hours later, he was alert and not in any pain. That's partly because of the meds, but mostly because the nerves in the jaw are cut during the operation.

I spent the night on a cot next to him in the hospital, but he was able to get up, move around, and gently brush his teeth by morning, and was released at about noon the next day.

We were warned that there would be horrible bruising, but the only visable sign that he had surgery is that his cheeks are swollen - he frequently wears huge ice packs. He is frustrated because he is always quite tired and naps a lot, but otherwise, he's doing so much better than we'd expected. And I was able to avoid the fetal position completely!

His jaws have to be wired for 14 days, and he's only able to drink fluids. He learned the hard way that jell-o is too thick to make it through the wires & ended up looking as though his entire mouth had been bloodied. Cherry teeth.

Post date May: I was absolutely over the moon that the thing I had worried about for 5 years didn't happen - we had been warned that he might be nauseated and would vomit while the wires were on. I thought that they would send a pair of wire-cutters home with us, but we were assured that he could spew the vomit between the wires and not choke to death. Mommy might have passed out, but Scott would have been just fine. But luckily, there was no vomiting, no spewing through wires, and no smelling salts for me!

Strudel Stress Management

Toaster Strudel Art 2
Originally uploaded by Cloud2296

The realtors are coming to look at the house on Thursday.

There is a bucketload of stuff to do.

But I am too stinkin' overwhelmed to clean/straighten/fix.

So I am eating.

And checking facebook.

And playing Mah Jong Medley.

And eating.

Being in denial sure packs on the pounds.

Paint Wrist

Paint Cans in La Paz
Originally uploaded by thinklia

The outside of the house is done:

Stucco Walls: Green
Garage Door: Darker Green
Trim: Chocolate Brown
Door: Bright Red
Equals: Mint Chocolate Chip with a Cherry on Top House

The 'computer room' is done:

Slick Dark Green 'accent' wall
Cowboy Painting & Paraphernalia
Dad's Recliner
Gramma & Grampa's Indian Print
Equals: A real 'room' rather than a garbage can.

Sid's garage sale headboard is almost done:

Puttied holes & cracks
Sanded sticky-out splinters
White accidental 'primer' layer
Second coat is finished
Equals: Sore knees and wrist & a vow to use spray paint 'next time.'

The house we pick out better look exactly the way we want, cuz I don't want to do this again.

Whadda Ya See?

Random abstract design
Originally uploaded by Treehouse Collective

I was just trolling along on Flickr and came across this design.

I thought it was a cat.

I still think it's a cat.

I mean, I can't see ANYTHING else.

Does this mean something?

Rest In Peace, Michael

micheal jackson quick sketch
Originally uploaded by Thomas churchwell

Yesterday was the memorial service and burial of Michael Jackson.

He had many faces - literally and figuratively.

The little boy with the big voice, fronting his brothers' band The Jackson 5. His sad, sincere singing would make us fall in love with a rat named Ben.

The teenager with the mile-high afro and dance moves in sync with Diana Ross and Cher.

The young man who began to look just a tiny bit effeminate: the first nose job, the smooth, short curled hair. And the lighter skin.

And then there was Thriller! And Michael Jackson became the King of Pop. He introduced a dance style and a backwards "moon" walk to screaming, crying fans who would eagerly practice not only his clothing styles (including the iconic white sequined glove) but his famous moves.

His life became a circus as rumors of skin lightening swirled, and it seemed as though he had truly lost his way when his face began to take on strange and hideous changes. The results of his many plastic surgeries left him with a tiny, toy nose; a cleft chin; womanly eyebrows. Combined with red lipstick, Kohl-rimmed eyes and penciled eyebrows, the face became truly clownish. Michael, and Michael's life became a joke - tabloid fodder.

He was acquitted of molestation charges, but the little-boy Michael who opened his home, Neverland, and shared his bed with children because it was nurturing and loving was now a monster.

But a week ago, all was forgotten and forgiven as Michael Jackson left this world. Suddenly he was remembered for his music, love of life, and kindness. And people were singing, crying, and copying their idol's famous moves as they listened to his music piped across the loud speakers of the world.

And we realized we were too late with our love and respect.

Dear Sarah & Jed

Dear Sarah & Jed,

Today is your wedding day. Sarah, I feel as though one of my own little girls has grown up. I'm not only thrilled for you, but I'm proud of your - well, your life!

Your dad asked me to give you two some words of wisdom. As you know, I'm never at a loss for words, so his request was a walk on the wild side. But I've given it some thought, and here are a few of the things that have made Mark and my 26 year marriage one of learning, growth, and joy.

1. This one is not in the #1 position by accident:

Remember that even though you are very much alike, the two of you come from very different places. They are places mostly created by the opinions, habits and folklore of generations of ancestors - i.e. strangers to you. Neither place is 'absolute.' Liking Miracle Whip instead of Mayo is not a moral failing.

2. You can live on lentils.

3. Always check the seat/lid position before you go.

4. Don't tell him to put the cap on the toothpaste unless you put your socks in the hamper .

5. Love doesn't conquer all, but it means the world while you get whatever help you might need.

6. Don't ever, ever, EVER involve your families in your disagreements. Did I say ever?

7. If he tells you not to buy him clothes, don't. Even if he looks hot in them, he won't wear the brown Dockers.

8. Although it looks as though your friends' marriages are perfect, they have some pretty tough times, too.

9. Don't assume. Even after 25 years, that one can bite you in the butt.

10. Tough times teach you more than the trips to Disneyland.

Best wishes for a wonderful eternity.

The Underwoods Love you.

Patty

"A Special Memory"

photo taken in Las Vegas uploaded by purpletwinkle flckr.com

Smells, Scents, and Odors.

IMG_6805.jpg
Originally uploaded by Arkie G

I was trying to come up with something to write about. Suddenly I thought about my habit of smelling my socks when I take them off. Okay, I know it's weird and gross, but it somehow makes me think I'm staying in tune - with what I don't know.

Since I didn't think talking about how my feet smell would be very interesting, I started to think about smells in general. Smells such as Coffee. Grass.

Then there are the scents that sort of give a gift. A little extra blessing from Heaven that when combined paint a picture - tell a story.

Cinnamon, Clove and Pumpkin.
Old Spice and Cigars.

Campfire and Hotdogs.

Roses and Perfume.
Crayons, Playdough, and Pencil Shavings.

Wet Dog. Tomato Sauce. Skunk.

" A Nice Place to Visit "

The Twilight Zone
Originally uploaded by ipwallpapers

There's nothing like a 1960's episode of The Twilight Zone. Especially one that features a smiling, gratuitous Sebastian Cabot who comes to the aid of a hoodlum who is shot by the cops.

Taken to a beautiful mansion by the portly Cabot, who is impeccably dressed in an immaculate white suit, the hoodlum (played by Larry Blyden) is at first incredulous, then leeringly overjoyed.

First, he's presented with new clothes ~ "Hey, Fats, your man knew my specs!" then a sumptuous meal, which he quickly assumes is poisoned. When reassured by Fats, who then prompts him to recall that he was shot by the police, he is surprised that even after his unsavory life, he has been welcomed into Heavenly bliss.

Soon, though, when his every whim is granted ~ 'dolls' and cars, gambling tables and parties ~ he becomes bored with his perfect life. Every pull of the one armed bandit is rewarded with buckets of quarters, every pool shot sinks all of the balls.

Complaining to Fats, he asks if it wouldn't just be possible if he could arrange a bank heist. Fats assures him that it would be just fine. Which bank would he like to rob? What kind of getaway car would he like? Frustrated, Byden says, "I'm sick of everything going my way! Now that I know how boring it is here, I wanna go to the other place! I don't care if it isn't Heaven!"

And Fats leans back and laughingly roars, "Why Mr. Jones. Whatever made you think you were in Heaven?"

I know that this was supposed to be about Hell....

But this episode made me grateful that Heavenly Father doesn't give me everything I want, and that His plan is that each of us can learn by our own choices and consequences. Otherwise this life would truly be a Hell on earth.

Take THAT, buddy!

Pepper spray - aftermath
Originally uploaded by vhallgrimsson

I'm home alone.

Mark, Sid, Scott & Stephanie have gone off to Utah for various nefarious purposes. I thought it would be really fun to be alone. I thought I'd eat junk, go to a couple of movies, read late into the night, and sleep in without guilt.

Instead, I'm terrified of the night. When I went to bed last night - after eating junk and reading as late as I could manage - I was too scared to turn the lights out, so I left one on in the upstairs bathroom.

I also "slept" with my cell phone, our land line handset, and pepper spray on the bed beside me. Every sound totally freaked me out, and I truly, literally, had little panic attacks every time the house settled.

So I decided to be proactive and plan what I would do if an intruder intruded. Oh, the pepper spray is a wonderful reassurance - until I think about how I'D get away with pepper spray 'smoke' floating around me. I mean, clearly, it'll knock out the bad guy. But it's not like it disperses with perfection. And I wouldn't be so tough that it wouldn't affect ME. What if it knocked me down, too? And we both recovered at the same time? Breathe, Patty, breathe.

And when you consider that you can hide while you're phoning 911, you have to remember that the phone makes a little beep every time you press a button. So here I'd be laying in the bathtub with the curtain pulled closed (nobody would look there cuz they'd be looking in the closet or under the bed) and the guy would hear 'beep beep beep' and know I'd called 911. So....where would he go??? Uh, not the closet!

I could always lock myself in Sid or Scott's bedroom, but I'd have to knock over a dresser or something and pull it over to block the door. But the bathroom opens into each of their rooms, so I'd have to block that door, too. Or block both of the kids' doors and lock myself in the bathroom. But the bathroom window is too small to get out of. Plus it's a 2 story drop. There's just no damn way to win.

This is what I go through every night - family here or not, actually.

I'm sleeping on the couch tonight. Really.

With the pepper spray, and both phones.

After the Bath

After the Bath 1890-95, by Edgar Degas
Originally uploaded by saimo_mx70

I just think this is beautiful.

Edgar Degas is one of my favorite artist/sculptors. We were blessed to see many of his works at the Muse d'Orsay in Paris a few years ago and it's impossible to choose either a favorite work or media. His paintings are so skilled and detailed that it seems possible to reach out and touch the fluffy tutus on his lovely ballerinas.

The sculpture of the Little Dancer of Fourteen Years is lifelike that she looks ready to step back onto the stage.

And I just sounded like Wikipedia.

Kick it OUT, already!

Mourning Dove in Nest
Originally uploaded by ladyinpink47

A cute little mourning dove built a nest in our massive cactus. It sat there patiently for weeks. The other day there were suddenly 2 birds in the nest. Turns out one was the alleged 'baby.' It was massive.

Today, the painters' stuff got too close to the nest and they both left. It was about time. I mean, sheesh, mom! Let's just give your nest to your hatchling!?

Unique is Good

'Hey..what's hanging?'
Originally uploaded by peace1374

We used to have a cool Jackson's chameleon like this one.

Mark & I were in Hawaii and we had been looking around in a tiny little pet store in Lahaina on Oahu. They had the usual assortment of parrots, snakes, goats (yes, goats), and several kinds of lizards. Mark got tired of wandering around and went for a walk while I talked myself into why it was okay to purchase a jungle creature, keep it in a motel for a few days, then fly it across the ocean. And how I would explain it to Mark.

I chose my little friend and forked over my $65. Once he was boxed up (the chameleon, not Mark - he was boxed 'in'), I walked to the park where I surprised my patient spouse with the most bizarre creature we'd ever seen. It took him about 2 minutes to fall for him.

We named him Kili (Kee-lee) and he became one of our most interesting and funny pets ever. He traveled in slow motion with a kind of step-sway forward and back, step-sway forward and back movement. He loved to s-l-o-w-l-y climb up cords and curtains, and found popcorn ceilings to be quite the adventure. He was used to employing his prehensile tail as another hand/arm, so when he was losing his grip or sensing he was in danger, he would wrap his tail tightly around his leg. He'd inevitably fall - but we always caught him or prepared a soft spot for the landing.

He had 2 amazing, protruding eyes - each moved independently and looked like little beady telescopes.

His home was an old bird cage fitted with a big plant and a rabbit water bottle that hung down for him to lick. I also had a little bottle that dripped onto the plant, and I would mist it often with a squirt bottle. We'd take him out every day or so for his fill of meal worms or crickets. Problem was, the meal worms smelled awful, so I'd usually opt for the noisy, nasty crickets. But the crickets would get out of the cage, so we had to put them in a tall box, drop Kili in, and let him go to town. His tongue would zip out about 8 inches and snag a scurrying cricket, then he'd slowly, slowly chomp it down.

He loved to go outside on my hand and catch flies on the side of the house. He tried a Box Elder bug one time - a common and plentiful beetle in Montana. He clearly didn't like it and never, ever forgot what they looked like and never ate another one.

He also liked spending time on the lawn and once in a while I'd sit and read while he lounged in the sun. I came close to losing him a couple of times and spent some frantic minutes searching the area for a patch of green that had legs. Luckily, he couldn't move fast enough to get far. The funniest time was when I found him laying on the line where the sunny lawn met the shadowed. He was half bright green, and half forest green.

He became a favorite - we had friends who would bring thier friends over just to see him. One time, a family we knew purchased one for their teenage son, and I got a phone call from their veterinarian 2 weeks later. Evidently, Johnny's had died and the vet wanted to know how I took care of Kili. Evidently Jackson's are one of the hardest lizards to keep alive, and he was very curious about his habitat and diet. The vet was absolutely stunned to learn that my poor little tropical reptile lived in a bird cage, was fed random bugs outside, chased by the kitten across the top of our curtains, and often popped onto the dusty fake ficus tree in the living room for an hour of 'free play.'

I guess ignorance is bliss.

Kili died nearly 2 years after we got him. The very day Mark & I were in Lahaina, Hawaii.