To call or not to call... That is the question...

I drove over to this place to have the upholstery fixed on a car I'm hoping to sell and found this sign on the front door:

I felt that this was good information.  I'm not a thief, but now I know not to try to rip-off this place.

The guy inside was very nice and helpful.  However, I would certainly not want to get on his bad side.  He looked like he could most definitely follow through on the warning on the door.

My car will be safe there.  I wouldn't mind putting this same warning on my front window, but I don't think my HOA would appreciate that much.

Yes, it's about the dogs... again

It finally rained today... An actual storm.  Not the silly little few drops that have been happening recently.  It poured.  I was certainly happy about it.  The dogs, on the other hand... Not so much.

I walked to the back yard to feel the rain pummeling down on my face.  I wanted to make sure that it was actually rain and not someone standing outside making it appear to be raining and making all of those thunder sounds like the movies.  Alas, it was actual rain.

Remember I told you about Chloe?  She's the Pit mix that dives down to the bottom of the pool.  She ran outside absolutely positive that I was ready to toss that damn tennis ball in the pool for her.  Until she felt water... on her back... and she wasn't even IN the pool!

She looked at me as if I had ripped her skin from her body.  She yelped and ran back into the house. (With 5 dogs, it's much easier to leave the door open for a while so they can all come out.  One by freaking one)  She sat at the door completely astonished that the other dogs were able to take the absolute horrific knives falling from the sky.  It was torture for her.

So, being as I want her to get over her fear, I coaxed her to go outside.  I then wrapped her in a towel and figured that this would be a good time to have a rain coat for her.  You know how cute that would be?  Granted I am not the type to dress up my dogs, but this one seriously adores clothing and blankets and warmth of any kind, really.  For Halloween last year, my daughter dressed her up like a bumble bee... Wings and head gear, as well.  Pico, the cat, was a taco.  He wasn't as thrilled with the costume as Chloe was with hers, though.

Anyway, she walked outside, wrapped in a towel.  I picked her up and took her to the grass.  I knew it was her "time".  She's the only dog I have that does the potty dance.  It's a sight, let me tell you.  Her back legs go up and down and she puts her nose to the door.  Of course, she's also the only one who will hold it until she receives an engraved invitation to go.  As I set her on the grass, she jumped back up into my arms as if I was going to bury her alive.  She ran over to the table where the big ass umbrella was still up to shield herself from the hell of this crap falling from the sky.

Now, Chloe has no issues at all with thunder.  Just that wet stuff.  But she dives in the pool... Daily.  She will jump up and push herself off of my chest just so she can do a flip.  Just to show me how incredibly excited she is and wishes to share her enthusiasm with me about going in the pool.

Chloe is a sweetheart, though.  When I walked back inside, she slithered up into my lap as to tell me that she understands that I wish to help her, but keep her the hell out of that damn rain stuff.  If I can't jump into it, it's evil.

And you know what?  We went through this six, yes six, times.  Same reaction each time.  Now she is curled up next to my Rottie and the unknown puppy.  And by the way, she has yet to go to the bathroom.  I'm waiting for her bladder to explode.  And since it has stopped raining, let's hope that she will actually make it outside to the wet ground to pee.  If not, I have plenty of towels available.  Maybe I should just teach her to use the toilet.  Hmmm... Maybe not.

This is the typical, daily Chloe...

She's a nut about the water... As long as it's not falling from the sky....

A great thing for entertainment.....

I saw this on one of my many pages on Facebook (I look at this shit way too much).  I do think this is awesome though.

I have decided to start another company.  I'm going to call it "Haute Penis Couture".  I'm going to sell little bitty outfits for your man's penis.  I do like the idea.  Maybe I will also sell landscape settings for a woman's boobage.

I will, of course, label everything with a warning:

"Do not take pictures of your penis or boobage dressed up and send them to kids.  It's just not an ideal way to go down in history."

I think that sums it up.  Anyone want to help me figure out what outfits to make?  Anyone know how to sew?

Just a little thing about me, just so you know.....

In 8th grade, I was in Home Economics.  I failed the class.  Wanna know why?  I couldn't sew worth a damn.  Still can't.  I had to make a piece of clothing for myself or for someone else to wear.  Yes, actually wear.  I decided to make a skirt.  Can't be that hard, right?  Man, was I wrong.  It was a complete fail.  My midterm was baking something... I made a butter cake.  It would have been awesome, but I totally forgot to add the butter.  Another fail.  Yeah, my teacher just made me do other stuff that didn't involve sewing or baking.

Now, on the other hand, these days I can cook up some pretty bad ass meals and cakes and shit.  The sewing, though, still sucks.  NO way in Hell will I be able to do that.  I can't sew a damn button.  I'm so glad there are little shops that will fix stuff like that for you....

Jillism... The newest form of politicalism and religious beliefs.. HA!

So I was talking to my mom about Facebook.  She refuses to sign up for it, but wants me to make sure to tell her what all the posts are from my family and even my friends.  So, I have two.  One for her to see and the other one for me.  Now granted, I haven't even logged into the one for me in over two months.  It has bored me to tears.  All I have on there now are invites for all sorts of games. That's just down right annoying.

Back to what I was going to discuss.... So my mother is looking at my Facebook.  She looks at my profile.  Under the Political part... It says Jillism.  It also says that under religion.  She was completely shocked and scorned me for being so rude.


Conversation:
Me: I hate politicians, so I figured the best political way to go is start my own political race, if you will.

Mom: Are you out of your mind?

Me: What kind of question is that? You should know by now that I'm not exactly in my right mind.

Mom: True.  And why can't you put Catholic???????? It is just wrong and rude to make yourself seem to be a God!

Me: Jillism is partially Catholicism, partially Atheism, partially, Buddhism, partially all other isms.  I'm a happy camper, well, okay, most of the time, and so why not follow my moral code?  Don't kill people, just torture them.  Killing is just wrong anyway.  Torture is better than feeding them and paying for them to sleep on a bed and watch tv! So, really it's a combination of political and religious beliefs.  I think it works just fine.

Mom: You need to go to church.  Go talk to the priest.  Say 100 Hail Mary's.  You just need to stop this nonsense.

Me: It's Facebook! For crying out loud.  It's a social site.  I can put whatever I want on there.  Now, if you would sign up for Facebook, you can block me.... For religious reasons.

Mom: I'm not talking to you for the rest of the day.

(Five minutes later)...

Me: Hello?

Mom: Can you tell me what your sister is posting on Facebook?

Me: I deleted my Facebook.

Mom: Have you lost your mind???

Me: No, I gave in to Jillism.  Completely.  I'm going to live electronics free and people free.  Vow of silence.. that whole thing.  So I have to get off the phone now.

Mom: You are such an idiot.

Me: I take after my mother....

Mom: No, honey... After your father...

So, yeah, that was our conversation about Jillism.  Funny thing is, my daughter and a couple of her friends have converted to Jillism.  Someone actually thought I should start this up.  The whole Jillism thing.. yeah, I don't think so.  Unless I can get someone to move me for free and without hassle and stress.  Then look out!  Jillism is coming!

I wonder what kind of logo would be good for that......

Hopefully I haven't completely lost it...

So I feel like moving. Just up and go. To where, I have no idea. No particular reason, either. Just have that wild hair.

So I start looking around my house. Trying to figure out what all has to be done so I can move. In each room, I imagine how many boxes that I would have to pack. Since I have a two-story, I would also have to carry all of that crap downstairs.

As I enter each room, my pack of dogs is following me wondering what the hell I'm doing walking into each room, standing there, checking out all the stuff, then walking to the next room.

I actually start dreading walking into the next room. Granted this was only after the first room, but still. Then I thought about hiring someone to do it. Then I thought about the cost of hiring someone. Now, I could pay my daughter's friends with food. But that would mean one of two things:

1) I would have to cook. A lot. I mean A LOT. So, nah, don't wanna do that.
2) I could order food. Easier, of course, but I would have to buy out a restaurant. Seriously.

Also add to that the fact that they are seriously slow and make everything into a game or party. Yeah. That's not gonna happen.

So back to the thought of hiring professionals. I call one mover place. I would have to black market my kidney and possibly part of my liver as well.

After all the stress, I pour a glass of wine, walk outside, and start with the dogs and their tennis balls. I think I will remain here for a while longer. Just the thought of moving voluntarily stressed me out. When I actually do move, I'm ordering a case of wine and putting myself up in a hotel. And the dogs? They'll go to their own hotel.

Maybe I should just order the wine and do all the other stuff and forget about moving....

Gardening and wine...

So today I decided that I was going to work in the yard. Yes, even though it was 200 degrees outside. I have these super awesome gloves. They are purple and just slide onto my hands. Awesome I tell you.

Anyway, so since I decided to work in the yard... The backyard to be more specific... I had the joy of having more help than anyone could possibly ever deserve. It was splendid. Well, until I put on the awesome gloves.

Like you've read before, I have five dogs and a cat. Three of them are always together: Jezebel, Chloe, and Munchkin. I call them the good, the bad, and the ugly or the three flamingos. (side note... When my now college age daughter was young she loved the movie the Three Amigos. But she said flamingos instead, so that's the story behind that one). If you've never seen that movie, you so should.

Anyway... The Three Flamingos decided to help me. That was until I put the awesome gloves on. I believe the dogs would call them the demon gloves. I am fluent in Fido, so I explained to them that they are good. They didn't believe me. Well, until Munchkin made the first move. She's fearless that one. She walked up and slowly crept her way under the demon gloves where they would touch her, but ever so gently. She paused for a moment while the glove was touching her back. She then backed up, still with the glove on her back. Then forward again. Then back again. She began to just move one or two steps up and back all the while licking her lips.

Once she discovered that those were no demon gloves, she persuaded the other two to come try them out. These to her were now the awesome gloves. Chloe has extremely short and thin hair, so there's no brushing her... Ever. So Chloe walked over to me to check out these things I placed on my hands. She tried to pull them off with her teeth until she realized that part of my body was inside of them. She looked at Munchkin and Munchkin walked over to me to repeat her steps above. Chloe watched and then tried it herself. All the while I am sitting there with my hand sticking out, completely still. Once Chloe tried out this whole walking forward and backward under the gloves, she then decided that this is how she wants to be brushed. She leaped around as if she struck gold. If the gloves were on, her body was there... Ready to be brushed. Then here comes Jezebel. Now, Jez is 70 pounds. Her version of wanting to be gentle is tackling you. That's fun... Right?

Well, she wanted me to scratch her butt withe those gloves. So, I did. Chloe had other plans. Apparently Chloe has decided that those gloves are hers. Period. Chloe slithers her body under the glove that is scratching Jezebel and starts brushing herself. Yes, the gloves are still on my hands.

This continued for about fifteen minutes. Then, in my best Fido accent, told them it was time for me to actually do something in the backyard. I start removing dead branches and leaves from around the landscaping. I'm on my knees to get to the real mess. Here comes the good, the bad, and the ugly. (side note... Jezebel is the good one, Munchkin is the bad one, Chloe is the ugly one. She's not ugly, but she's not good or bad, either). Chloe grabs the very tip of one of my gloves and takes off with it. At the same time, Munchkin and Jezebel are trying to get scratched with the other glove. Chloe tosses her glove on the ground and starts rolling around on it. I'm thinking she's trying to brush herself since I'm so busy. That's nice of her.

Needless to say, I didn't get much done in the backyard. But now the three flamingos agree.. Awesome gloves.

You complete me...

Time and time again I see lots of younger guys walk up to each to greet.

First guy: "What up daw?"
Second guy: "What up g?"

I finally figured out why they greet each other is such a manner... Someone must complete the word! The word is Dawg. So, since the first guy doesn't say the "g", it's up to the second guy to complete the word!

One day I will have a couple of dogs that I will call "Daw" and the other "G". I think that would work. They will then complete each other...

I wonder if there are other words that they must complete for one another.... This is going to become my new research project... Oh, yes.

A little bit about me...

I'm going to write this because, well, I can!

Okay, so here's a few tidbits about me and if you have questions or want to know how to block this from your memory, just ask away!

I'm a single mother of an awesome college student. She's awesome because she's just like her mother. Well, in many ways, at least.

I'm a complete goof. I make faces at myself in the mirror. Remember when your mother always said that your face would stay that way? I'm still trying to prove that theory. I am a night owl. I don't have trouble sleeping. Quite the opposite. I am a sleepaholic. It's one of my favorite hobbies.

I am a professional photographer of animals and buildings. Yes, buildings. People like buildings. They're pretty. Well they are when I get through with them anyway! Kidding. Not really. I also build websites so, as you can, I am a total nerd. The kind of nerd that is totally cool. I volunteer my time a lot with rescue groups in the Houston area. I know what you're thinking, and the answer is yes, I am a saint. The Vatican just hasn't recognized me yet since, well, I'm not dead yet. Kind of a bummer when you think about it.

I'm a complete psycho when it comes to details and organization. I even trained my dogs to put their things away in the "appropriate" bucket. See, I'm the kind of person that has this strange gene that tells me that every dog must be saved. That's probably why I have five right now. Though, two are technically my daughter's dogs... They sleep with me. So they are mine I tell you! MINE!

Sorry, I go off on tangents. It's a quirk. And a good one at that.

I love to write, as this plainly shows. I also like reading, long walks on the beach, candlelit dinner by moonlight. Oh wait, this isn't the personal ad. A candlelit dinner on the beach is like an invitation for bugs to come feast on you. Who is the dinner for anyway?!

When I clean up, the music is blaring and I seem to do more singing and dancing around with my dogs than cleaning up. I won't lie, I have toys everywhere. Dog toys. I seem to keep bringing dogs into the house, so toys are a must. And rawhides. And dog beds. Well, you get the idea.

I am a sincere movie buff. I like forensics, too. And all the shows that involve forensics. Especially NCIS. I would love to have the entire collection, but I spend most of my money on my dogs. Well, and new camera stuff. What I wouldn't give for a new camera dlsr body and some seriously awesome lenses.

You will see more of who I am with each post. I have very few, okay, I lied... A ton of quirks. Maybe that's why I can relate to these dogs? Who knows. My daughter thinks I'm a nutcase as do her friends. But that's another story...

Tennis ball syndrome

I'm sitting outside by my pool, enjoying some deliciously delectable wine, trying to wind down from the weekend. My five dogs have other plans for me.

First, let me run through my zoo:
Lola. She's 10 this year. She's a Rottweiler mix with what I believe is a German Shepard. She's one of the most awesome dogs. She has this amazing trick that my teenage daughter taught her. Attention guys who want to visit... Wear a cup. Or don't wear one if you think you can take on Lola. I will tell you more about her awesome trick later.
Coco. Coco is a tiny toy Poodle. However, if she were actually as big as she thinks she is, she would be in doggy jail for the rest of her life. She hates anyone who dares to even breathe in the same country. You are taking away from her precious fresh air. Stop or she's coming to get you. I like to think of her as Hannibal Lector or maybe Doggibal Lector.
Jezebel. She is a Black Lab/Blue Heeler mix. Completely obsessive compulsive. She's super smart, always behaves, and minds her manners. Until you go out in the back yard... Then it's a free for all.
Chloe. The sweetest dog on the planet. She is a Pit Bull/Lab mix. Talk about a problem with fixation. That's for another post. I can tell you she is a total and complete cuddle bug. She must touch you when you sleep. Yes, I said must. You have no choice in the matter if you want any sleep at night, so just go with it.
Munchkin. Honestly, I have no clue what she is. All I know is that she is 6 months old and starting to be more and more like Coco daily. This can't be a good thing.
Pico. Pico de Guyo (yes, that's how his name is spelled) is a cat. When my daughter first brought him home, she was positive that he was a girl. No such luck. She called him sugarplum. When his little balls of wonder started showing, she freaked. Thought "she" had cancer. Again, no such luck. He's an outdoor cat. Loves, loves, loves, to ride in the car. Doesn't matter whose car it is.

So, back to my original thought. Damn, this wine tastes quite yummy. What was I saying? Oh, yes... My dogs' plans for me. As I try to enjoy my now second glass of wine, I feel like that kid is dodge ball who always got hit with the ball. Jezebel and Chloe are actually throwing tennis balls AT me. Yes, you did read that right. AT me. Not dropping the ball at my feet looking at me with the ever lasting look of "will you be so kind as to toss this ball out into the yard or pool so I may retrieve it for you, my lady?". Not a chance. Now it's gotten to the point of "if you don't throw this damn ball for me right fricken now, I'm going to dig up your hydrangeas, bitch!!".

People always talk about the unconditional love of a dog. I would like to meet this person so I can shove this tennis ball up his/her ass. My dogs love me as long as I feed them when they are ready to eat, let them swim in the pool on a daily basis, and throw tennis balls to them until my arms are as muscular as a pro baseball pitcher. Oh, and let's not forget... As long as they can ALL sleep on the bed with me.

I have to admit, I love my dogs. Even the cat. And I'm not a cat person unless we are talking about panthers. I don't really care to find a decapitated rat on my back doorstep as a gift. Give me flowers! Give me goodies! But I guess he's working with what he's got.

So now, my hydrangeas that I worked so hard to keep alive are now spread out on my pool deck as if another hurricane hit. And the tennis balls? Placed strategically on my lap just in case I ever decide to actually throw the ball into complete darkness for Jezebel or Chloe to gratefully bring back to me since, as always, we can go through the whole process again.

Yep, love those dogs.