Category Archives: Other Stuff

Darkness

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Courtesy all4desktop.com

This post in response to the prompt a few weeks ago, “Darkness.” The first thing I thought of was emotional darkness, which was extremely depressing. Last night I thought of a new angle. What about literal darkness?

Nighttime. Astronomy has always fascinated me. Trips to Griffith Observatory, in the hills of Los Angeles, were always a treat. There I saw objects millions, maybe billions, of miles away (I never understood the concept of light years).

And is space really infinite? If not, where does it end? What’s on the other side? It’s not like I think there are little green men walking around, but in the entire solar system there has to be like a cell or something.

I know one thing. Whenever I look at the night sky it increases my faith. Only some kind of holy being could create something so wonderful yet so mysterious.

Ah, The Memories…

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I was born in the eighties. Hair was high and the “fashions” left something to be desired. The nineties weren’t much better fashion wise, but the nineties were where I spent my childhood.

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Courtesy hercampus.com

I am about to turn 33 (how is that possible!?) and for readers around my age, I thought I’d take you on a journey along memory lane.

Do you remember:

  1. Sturrip pants
  2. American Girl dolls (My sister is always looking to make a quick buck. She wants to put hers on Craigslist, but Mom refuses.)
  3. “Where’s Waldo”
  4. Koosh
  5. “Goosebumps”
  6. Polly Pocket
  7. Zoobooks
  8. LipSmacker
  9. Mini backpacks
  10. Friendship bracelets
  11. Pogs
  12. Squeezit
  13. Scrunchies
  14. The Oregon Trail game
  15. Sanrio Surprises
  16. “Operation!”
  17. Lunchables

What are some of your childhood favorites?

The Birthday Girl

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Sorry–Maggie wouldn’t hold still for a birthday photo.

Today Maggie is 11. Though she doesn’t act it, technically she is 77. Although she would have qualified for an AARP card 23 years ago and countless other senior discounts long ago, my daughter doesn’t act her age. Sure, she has gray on the tips of her ears, but if I didn’t know, I’d never guess her age. She plays with Pippa, often instigating the play like she were still a puppy herself.

How fast 11 years have gone. I was a child of 22 when I got her. Both she and her brother were available. The breeder put both dogs on my wheelchair tray. Sweetie climbed my shoulder, and that was that. I was smitten.

Happy Birthday, Maggie. You’ll always be my pup.

Why Can’t We Be Friends?

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When you think of buddies, you think of human friends. The Ricardos and the Mertzes, Doug and Deacon from “The King of Queens.” The cast of “Friends.”

But do all buddies need to be human? Not even a week ago (oh my gosh) our family got another dog since we lost Wayne in December and Maggie is technically mine. The new puppy is a mutt, although a cute mutt. I forgot about how mutts could be. And how, let’s say, exuberant, all puppies are.

Pippa (named after Kate Middleton’s sister; my sister who absolutely loves the Royals) is definitely into absolutely everything and finds entertainment in anything. Anything that isn’t a dog toy is fair game for one. This could be my shoes (more than once I have felt sharp puppy teeth on my toes) or the tassels of my backpack.

On imagining how the two dogs would get along, I thought being 11, Maggie would have no patience for a puppy. But I was wrong. I’m sure Pippa presses her buttons because she just doesn’t take “no” for an answer. Although Maggie takes it and takes it, you can sure tell when she has had enough. There is a warning bark and Pippa calms right down.

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What I imagined. Courtesy 1.bp.blogspot.com

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What we got. Courtesy screenrant.com

Here’s a sample of their thoughts about the situation:

Maggie: One question: When does she go back? I thought I would spend my senior years in peace and relaxation. I don’t ask for much; naps in my favorite corners. My ratty stuffed animals. My people.

Pippa: I LOVE IT HERE…. Wait… I see something fun….a sort of jug. It says “MILK”. It’s empty so I beg my parents to toss it here. They do. That’s some fun. For now. Wait! I didn’t see that rug by the front door! Let’s go see…

Stay tuned. Hopefully Pippa and Maggie can reach a middle ground.

Me In A List

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Courtesy 0.s3.envato.com

If you have been reading my blog for a while, you know some things about me. You know that I’m disabled, that I have two younger sisters, and that I have a canine daughter named Maggie. For this post, I thought I’d tell you a little more about myself.

  1. Pansies are my favorite flower (they look like they are smiling).
  2. I took two years of French in high school, but other than merci and bonjour, the only thing I remember is pig. (Not very useful in a conversation. Unless you were talking about sandwiches. Or farm animals.)
  3. My 13/14-year-old “celebrity” crush was Prince William (that was pre-bald).
  4. I think about 95 is the perfect temperature.
  5. I think hobos are scary. Clowns too.
  6. I have never seen “Star Wars.”
  7. I have done several 5ks.
  8. I need a white noise machine to sleep (it drowns out Maggie’s snoring).
  9. Our family has never been without a dog.
  10. My favorite pizza topping is pineapple.
  11. I never learned to whistle.
  12. I think I’ve seen “Toy Story” at least 100 times.
  13. I love tiny houses, but couldn’t ever live in one.
  14. My family and I were guests at the White House.
  15. I could live in Target.
  16. I love “Say Yes to the Dress,” but don’t get how anyone could pay $10,000 for a dress you wear once.

And You Are…?

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Courtesy: colenesmith.com

St. Patrick’s Day was yesterday and I’m happy to report that besides my name (which actually means Ireland), fair complexion, and green eyes, I actually have Irish ancestry on Mom’s side. Also Scottish, a tad French, and mostly English, but that doesn’t count on St. Patrick’s Day. On Dad’s side it’s some German then a bit from here and a bit from there (my sister’s boyfriend got her a DNA kit for Christmas, although the thought that she and I share the same DNA is scary). It was her gift, but I had fun with it, too.

I think that stuff is so interesting. How did your family live, such a long time ago? My great-great grandma, who passed away days after I was born, came to California from Kansas in a covered wagon. I think one of my ancestors was one of the people who, during the Boston Tea Party, dressed as an Indian and threw tea off the ship from England. On Dad’s side, somebody fought for the Union army. He actually said above the bed at his great grandparent’s was a sword from the Civil War. Dad is also distantly related to Amelia Earhart.

Now, who are you? I recommend “Genealogy 101” from Universal Class if you enjoy the thrill of the hunt. It’s an instructor-led course. You go at your own pace and have six months to finish the class. Or Ancestry.com. I’m enrolled right now. It’s neat how you get to see the actual documents on the computer screen.

If you are trying to find out your ancestry, I hope that was helpful. Happy hunting!

Halloween, Circa 1994

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Erin the Picnic, Kelley the Hula Girl, and Sarah the Bag of Jelly Belly's.

Erin the Picnic, Kelley the Hula Girl, and Sarah the Bag of Jelly Belly’s.

Ah, Halloween. It was the one night when bedtimes didn’t matter (within reason), and a sugar rush was acceptable—almost expected. And for one night you could experience being somebody other than yourself.

Then comes the year when you stop trick-or-treating altogether (I was probably in junior high). I felt so grown up—trick-or-treating was so juvenile! But being on candy patrol wasn’t as much fun, as it turned out.

Today, HALLOWEEN, PERIOD, even if I dressed up, just isn’t the same. There are just too many creeps who are ready to “pounce” on unsuspecting children partaking in an innocent pre-November tradition. You see on the news the stupid people hiding razors and things in candy or lacing it with drugs.

I know I sound like an old geezer, but I miss the innocent days. My sisters and I got costume ideas from American Girl magazine, Dad was the designated pumpkin carver, and a fun-size Reese’s Cup made my night.

I’m now 32 and my sisters in their late 20s. I’m positive they would wholeheartedly agree when I say I wish I appreciated those days of trick-or-treating, when my only problem was which candy bar to eat first.

To Mom

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Here’s the assignment for day 2 of Poetry.

Courtesy: womenshealthmag.com

My mom, my hero and fellow blogger, is a marathoner. She has a race this Sunday, where she hopes to qualify for the Boston Marathon. Here is my way of wishing her good luck.

Robust sense of determination, like a kid learning to ride a two-wheeler.

You trUly inspire me, like on January first, anything is possible for you.

I caN’t imagine running 26.2 miles; kind of like thinking of infinity.

WheN you cross that finish line an ice-cold fountain Diet Coke will be waiting, which is like liquid heaven to you.

Your caninE supporters will get so excited when we get home, like at dinnertime.

I guess what I’m saying is, no matteR your place, for us, it will be like you won.

Good luck, Mom!

I’m Not Crazy–Really!

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Contrary to what my family would tell you, I am not crazy—maybe a tad on the eccentric side, but not crazy. Another word for me is probably is quirky. Yes, definitely quirky.

This is most evident in my eating—mostly eating lunch. I have some form of peanut butter sandwich every day (I was thrilled when the doctor said that I needed more protein, which peanut butter is a good source of). My sandwich could be peanut butter and jelly, peanut butter and honey, or occasionally almond butter and banana slices.

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Exhibit A, although I was a bit wild today and had a turkey sandwich for lunch. And now that I look at it, the sandwich is pretty close to the 9 o’clock position also. Disturbing.

The sandwich is cut into bite-sized pieces so it’s easier for me to pick up, and I must eat my sandwich row by row, not picking pieces up willy-nilly. The sandwich has to be at 6:30 on the plate. It’s essential. Nothing can be blocking the sandwich. Also essential. Vitamins, calcium, multivitamin, iron, omega-3, and vitamin C: They must be at 9 o’clock.

Chips (a figure of speech—actually either pretzels, string cheese, almonds, popcorn, or some combination thereof) are at either 11 or 2 o’clock, interchangeable with dessert. I’m more lenient with them.

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Exhibit B. Note the tidy row-like consumption of sandwich, sort of like corn on the cob. Sort of.

A psychologist would have a field day with that! Ask me if I care; not in the least, as long as I can have things just so.

P.S. In reading this back, I sound nuts!