It Had Been On Its Last Legs...

But its legs fell off.  RIP little non smart phone, you were one of the last of your kind...

This is my husband's non-work phone, so he gets a partial pass on being one of the last humans in America to not have a personal smart phone. 

Here it sits, eking out every last inch of its life. The rubber band alone holding the charger to the phone wasn't doing it anymore, so it had to be perched in a Kleenex box, "just right" so it could charge overnight.   

Then we went out of town and forgot the Kleenex box, the one that had just enough Kleenex in it to hold the phone - again "just right".  Three days with no charge sent it to its well overdue grave.

It had a useful life, feel no need to mourn this sad occasion of not only one of the last non-smart phones in America, but also one of the ever increasingly rare and disappearing breed of the flip phone.   I have heard that was an American thing, giving a nod to the Star Trek Communicators.  Do you know the original series only ran three seasons??  Incredible how many followers the everlasting Mr. Shatner has, even to this day.

Hmm, three seasons, a damn good clue for how long the above flip phone should have been in use, but my husband took it to "The Next Generation" - and for that he should be proud!

I wonder if the Smithsonian would be interested in this fine specimen - I think I'll package it up and send it off, a generous donation on behalf of our family.  I'll even include the red rubber band - unfortunately the Kleenex box has been put to use, its hay fever season you know....

Out Strolling With The Baby???

Ah, beautiful sunny day, shorts and a tank top, out for a stroll with your little one......

Why isn't anyone looking at the beautiful baby in the stroller?  Isn't it human nature to peek in the stroller to see if the baby is cute?  C'mon, you know you check on cuteness...

Many, many years ago I used to work in a bank with a lady who would say "Oh my, what a pretty dress" or something to that effect when she didn't think the kid was cute, that was the clue to all of us, quick look at the homely baby...

No one here seems to notice the stroller, the lady reading the paper, the man walking by - even the mom, she is looking at the postings on the board.  Maybe the blue of the stroller is blending in with the blue of the storefront.

Or maybe the baby is a DOG!!

People, people, people, it has always been my understanding that dogs like to go for walks and well, actually walk. They like to smell things, pee on trees and fire hydrants, catch bugs, pull your arm out the socket when squirrels and bunnies are spotted. 

Now I know, technically this is going for a walk - but when the dog is on wheels, in a stroller, then term "walk" kind of loses its meaning, don't you think?

I hear pet Halloween Costume sales are up 65% this year... I'm so in the wrong business..... 
Get me some felt and a glue gun, stat!  I'm going on Etsy - anyone need a doggy (or kitty) sunflower costume?? How about a pirate eye patch and hat with a feather?  Yeah - pet boutique items, apparently that's where it at!

Have No Fear

Spider Man is alive and well and on the job, right here in the flesh - well, whatever his Spidey flesh is made of.

So we were out and about with the family and we spot this guy.  Looks like he's on top of something there in the weeds, and good thing, because look how close we were.  My goodness, we could have been in grave danger if Spider Man hadn't gotten there first!!

I don't know about you, but I feel so much safer knowing there is a dude dressed up as Spider Man roaming about the country more than a month before Halloween.  Yes indeed, nothing odd here...

It's a good thing his camouflage would only work if he were hanging sideways, spread eagle across a giant flying Union Jack.... England, let this be my warning to you, you could be caught off guard if you aren't paying attention.

Unless of course this is the real Spider Man and in that case, I'm sorry Spidey - please keep up the good work, here and abroad!!

It's Terminal

So I’m using a line I heard while at an Irish pub the other day.  I was hanging out with some Marines and one said, “Flying any more really is terrible, that’s why airports are called terminals” Hahaha - I laughed, it was funny.

Then I flew home a few days later, went to pick up my car in the parking structure and spotted this little scene.  OMG, he was right, it is terminal!  

Here sits two empty wheelchairs, alone in a parking spot, with a case of Coors Light and what looks like a bag of snacks, occupants are missing…what happened to them?  Do they need their chairs, who wheeled them out here and really, did they get enough to drink??  

 I can’t make this stuff up – there it is, as found in the Big Blue Lot – Level 5, Green Section… 

My husband loves airports for the people watching, that realm has now been expanded to be all encompassing - shit you see at an airport you would never see anywhere else… 

 

Maybe they were having race in the parking lot and got pulled over for drunk wheeling, or open intoxicants, or both?

Possibly they were pilots who needed a lift back to their cars after their international flight, where they had picked up the Coors Light in the duty free earlier.

Or maybe they were passengers that heard about the hospital garage sale and once they finished their Coors Light were off to get their free popcorn? (referring to post 9/10/12 - "What Kind of Garage Sale Is This"?)

All I know is that this proves there are no bums at the airport – otherwise those returnables would have been snatched immediately!  $2.40, that’ll get you two more cans of Coors at the Kroger, with deposit and 20 cents to spare….

Cat On A Hot Tin Roof

Ok, well not exactly tin, asphalt and tar may be more accurate, but I bet it was still hot...

So the hubby and I are getting ready to go somewhere and we hear this horrendous commotion of birds, screaming and yelling.   I wander over to the edge of the yard to see what is going on with this new very large and very loud foul collection that has gathered in the yard.  Then I spot this little fella up on the roof of one of garages at the end of the cul-de-sac.

Look at him, can't you just hear his brain spinning, trying to figure out how to jump up into that big oak tree for a little Tweety Bird snack.  I know those mind gears are grinding and it's very impressive that he is even up on that roof.  Could not have been an easy task to get up there. 

Plus to add to the difficulty of the maneuver of trying to jump into a massive tree to get to the birds off that roof, we have a koi pond just under that large dangling branch to the right.  Which also could have made a tasty little kitty snack, big colorful koi fish, but if he missed it would have involved an unplanned cannon ball jump into the water below and cats are not known for their fondness of the water.  Whew, good for our fishies!  I bet that wet cat screech would have trumped the bird hollering....REEOOWWWW!!!

Anyway, we do not know if the kitty found his tweety, but judging from the mass of birds that had gathered in the tree, one had to be silly enough to make a bad judgement call to taunt the cat by flying near him and it is my guess he may have accomplished what he set out to do, one quick swipe and "it tastes like chicken".  Gotta have big goals you know!

Hey, I thought I taw a puddy tat, I did, I did see a puddy tat!!!

One of These Things is Not Like The Other

I just came back from a great weekend in Philly with a great group of people and I stayed at a lovely hotel that provided us with the above concoctions.

It being fall and all in the Midwest, my skin needs a little more lotion than in the summer and I was happy that the hotel provided me a cute little bottle to use.  Lord knows it’s impossible to take anything in your carry-on luggage anymore except the basics and in this house we use giant bottles of lotion, so thinking of taking a little one along did not even occur to me. 

I don’t know about you, but to me the two little bottles above look remarkable alike – except that they are not.  

And this is something that I did not notice on the first day of my stay.  On that day I popped open the cap of a bottle and slathered the contents onto my arms, legs, hands, feet, chest, neck and headed on my merry way out to see the town and get a bite to eat.

And here’s what I noticed when I slathered the lotion on, that it was REALLY, REALLY LEMONY.  I thought – hmm, odd, this really is fragrant – I hope people aren’t offended by my newly acquired scent “Eau Du Mr. Clean” (AKA Mr. Proper for all my Irish family out there). 

As far as I know, people weren’t offended – no one said a word about my lemony fresh scent.  But they may have been thinking – note to self, don’t use cleaning products for perfume….

The next day I’m getting ready to get in the shower and grab the shampoo and the “conditioner” except, it’s not…  This time I am looking at the label and see it says lotion, than I look at the bottle I used yesterday (see above – opened and showing usage at the cap) and it says conditioner.  OOOHHHH, OOPS, AHHH, that explains the heavy scent – you are meant to rinse the concoction off you after usage, not parade around in it.  Yes, thank you, got it.

Now, beauty and health care product industry, I have a request – two really:

1) Please make your labels different on the baby bottles you supply to hotel chains, not just change the tiny font from black to white, apparently I cannot tell the difference. 

  2) From previous experience of a similar nature, could you mark the shampoo bottles with a big S and the conditioner bottles with a big C on top – you know, like salt and pepper shakers? I can never tell the two apart when I’m in the shower.  I’m wet, there’s water in my eyes and I can’t see – give me a hand here.

I hate it when I squirt a glob of conditioner in my hand when what I really need is shampoo – It’s completely in the wrong order and I have to waste the conditioner and rinse it down the drain, yes I’ve tried to put it back in the bottle, but really the bottles are meant for one directional usage – out!

So there you have it, apparently I can’t read in the bathroom and need an idiot proof method to make sure that I am not rinsing my hair in Ty-D Bol blue. Ohhh wait, that explains it – I never understood why little old ladies had blue hair – wow.

Dear Proctor and Gamble, please stop the blue madness - Now!

Golden Bullet of Fur

Remember how I told you we watched the neighbor’s doggie for a couple of weeks this summer, well I didn’t fully mention her energy.  Since she’s a sleek little wiener dog, it would make sense that she had bullet like tendencies, although I had never really met a bullet dog in person before. 

I did know that she could jump vertical while on a leash to a height of two or more feet above what she would stand if she were on her hind legs.  This is something she would do to greet you when you visited her on her zip line runner when she was outside at her house.   This talent would also come into play say for catching moths, flies, hornets, imaginary dots in the air.  I have never seen a dog wiggle airborne, vertically, two feet off the ground, while attached to a leash, in sheer ecstasy at the prospect of catching a little white moth.  Off you would be on a walk and bam, vertical leap, bug gone!  If she weren’t less than a foot tall, she would be a great addition to anyone’s basketball team, as balls are a part of her entertainment area as well.

Now on to the furry golden bullet bit…

Do you know that comic in the Sunday papers about the pirate ship and the Golden retriever named “Louie”? Well, that is not an exaggeration.  I now know that dogs can fly and apparently it has something to do with having Golden Retriever bits mixed in your genetics.  In the comic, every time the pirate brings home the groceries, the dog flies through the air and knocks his favorite owner pirate guy down, and everything he has in his hands goes down too – so presumably the dog can get at the groceries spread out nicely on the floor and have a little snack. 

Every morning around 6:30am, not my best time of day, I would go over to Suzie’s house to let her out and give her breakfast.  I figured in a house that normally has kids zinging through it on a regular basis, Suzie might be used to an early morning routine.  

The first day I came by, Suzie barked (i.e. howled) when I came to the door and put the key in, after the first day, she only cried while waiting for me to turn the locks. Smart dog, learned my key turning noise in a day.  She was always very, very excited and did that vertical thing jump when you came in.  You had to move her outside quick to avoid the “happy to see you piddle” in the house and she cooperated with this thought process for about the first four days. 

Day five, it’s 6:30, I’m basically in a walking stupor that early in the morning, but I’m settling into this routine: Open door, get her outside asap, walk her around the neighborhood, go back to her house, feed her, go back home for three hours, sleep, awake again, go over and walk her again, bring her to our house, kiss my dog on the noggin and tell her it’s temporary, brew a cup of coffee, start my day.  

But no, day five I’m on my ass in the neighbor’s driveway.  Some sort of Neanderthal grunt escapes my groggy system and Suzie’s on my chest.  Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, big brown eyes greeting mine.    I’m stunned now sitting in the driveway, trying to get her on a leash and I realize I’ve just been hit by a horizontal flying golden bullet of fur, rocket launched off the top step on the landing; she’s Louie in the flesh!  

She is a rescue dog, maybe the comic strip guy lost his puppy and he keeps including her in the strip in case someone recognizes her and sends him an email saying –“Hey, I found your missing pirate dog.  She’s alive and flying high in the metro Detroit area”!  

Our dog doesn’t fly, in fact, none of the dogs we have ever had flew and I bet if Suzie straightened out those floppy ears, she might land a little more gracefully.  I think I’ll go over and offer that thought up to my neighbors right now.  Then again, they never warned me about her aerial acrobatics, maybe I’ll just open the window a little wider the next time I see them pull in the driveway and listen for the THUD!

Flying dog indeed.

Doggie Habitrail

We have built a doggie habitrail in our house, doggie usage shown above.

This is how it is, your puppy is now 14 years old.  She's a joyful, happy, former tennis ball chasing soul (tennis balls have all been hidden now).  She has no idea she is 14, so when she gets excited and tries to jump around, she falls down.  When she tries to run, she falls down.  The fabulous tile floor the former owners installed is great for keeping the house cool and clean, but not great for 14 year old doggies when their heads bounce off the floor with a horrendous THUNK! 

Yeah, exactly - OWWW and oohhh, my poor doggie.

So, one day I showed the hubby these great little green tile squares that were in a Flor catalog and said, "We should build the dog a trail, so she can keep her grip when she gets excited.
He said, no way, they'd be tacky.
I said, but look, they are a great happy color green, they would go with the house.
He said, nope".

Two months pass; dog keeps wiping out, my heart aches. She on the other hand just brushes it off and stays happy, like the great dog that she is.

I'm in Sears, they are going out of business in our local mall and they have these industrial garage usage, puzzle piece put together floor tiles with edges.  Eh, not a happy green, but cushiony and probably good for traction and the occasional hip crash.  Plus anything I can later convert for use in the garage is good with me (we might have a garage bigger than our house, yeah - I know - cool!)

Price is right, 30% off, so we find ourselves lugging out four packages to the car.  I then come home and put my youthful puzzle skills to work, building the above habitrail.  I cut edges so the saw edged  bit's don't show, put a piece and half down where she likes to lay by the cupboard, build through the kitchen, living room, hallway and to the bathroom.

I stand back and admire my work and think - great job, hubby should be thrilled.

Hubby walks in, "What's this?
I say, a padded carpet trail for the doggie.
He says this is exactly what I didn't want, industrial carpet tiles in the house.
I say WHAT?  The stuff I showed you originally from the Flor catalog is anything BUT Industrial.
And he says, but this certainly is.
Yes - this is, but she was wiping out and she's not a surfer, the house should be safe for her".

What this proves is that I should have ordered the expensive cool happy green stuff from Flor, because really, the habitrail works well and my neighbor complimented us on it the other day (I should state his garage is also bigger than his house, so yeah - we agree this is cool).  And it proves my husband and I don't speak the same language - his mind went to industrial right away, while mine was in an interior design catalog....   

Either way - I think we may be on to something - geriatric doggie floor tiles, since they can't wear those alarm buttons to tell us "I've fallen and I can't get up"  at least there is a floor pad to catch her when she slips.... and if you listen, there's no more THUNK!

What Kind Of Garage Sale Is This?

This required a second drive by, a pull over and a walk back across the street to take a picture.

I'm baffled at where to start first - so many things are going through my mind I can't type fast enough - your mind racing too?

I have a garage sale every year, I never offer beer and popcorn - are you supposed too?  Isn't it illegal - I mean the beer thing - not the popcorn - other than unpleasant tooth kernels - you'd probably be ok there...

But why would you want to?  Unless you  have one of those fancy machines - you'd be running in and out of the house all day popping bags in your microwave and really, people are only giving you a quarter for your shit (I mean valuable goods), so technically it would totally be a bad business proposition all around.  The idea of the garage sale it to make a couple bucks in return for the removal of your formerly beloved items, not negative cash flow.

Another thing I do when I have a garage sale is tell them where it is.  You know, provide an address.  So what this actually may mean is the name of the bar is "Garage Sale" and they have free beer and popcorn?  Now that's a bit confusing isn't it, wouldn't you want to name your bar something cool like the Flying Whiskey Bottle or something? And not to belabor a point, but an address really would be good.  And again, the negative cash flow thing, wouldn't stay open long...

Ok, wait, maybe the Cottage Hospital was having a garage sale and they were offering free beer and popcorn.  Then if anyone had a real problem with one of those nasty popcorn kernels, one they couldn't wash away with the free beer - they were conveniently at a hospital so they could go in and get that pesky kernel removed with a scalpel or something else pointy that would clean out your gums?

Because really, no one is at a garage sale long enough to get drunk and need the services of a hospital, it's a fly by thing.  Except the lonely hangers-on, but it has been my experience they are more preachy than drinky, so they aren't getting drunk at the hospital garage sale.  Has to be the popcorn and honestly I don't think that's a good enough draw.

Free money on the other hand would work much better - and since it's been a negative cash flow thing all along, might as well make it a successful one!  I'll just take a tenner for my time - thanks!

 

And What Do You Call That?

Well, personally I call it breakfast, I have one every morning slathered in real butter and honey.

So, a while back the hubby and I were on vacation in San Francisco – yippee!  

Currently I have a thing for Holiday Inn Expresses, most of them are less than six years old, (i.e. modern and clean) they have a great reward points system (i.e. free nights) and they all have pools (no extra comment needed for a pool!!) Really, what more could you ask for?  

Oh, you could ask for more and there is more…. they also offer free breakfasts!!  Yeah free and sometimes there’s hot stuff like eggs and sausage, yummy.

Now, if you were ever to vacation with us you would know just how important breakfast - right away - is, one of us gets a bit grumpy without food (it could be me).  By the time we are both fully awake, there is no time to nicely negotiate “Where should we have breakfast?”, if you are asking that question, it’s already too late.  The better question is “Where should we sit?” because we are already there, ready to eat.

Anyway – this particular Holiday Inn Express was on the Fisherman’s Wharf, right in the heart of tourist town, and boy did it cater to tourists.  Bus Loads.  Many, many, bus loads.  Therefore every morning it was a jam packed affair to get to the breakfast area and despite their best attempts, the pickins were usually slim – take what’s out now, because you will have to get back in line to see what will be out again in 15 minutes – that would be when you got back to the front of the line. 

This particular weekend there seemed to be a lot of Europeans traveling in those bus loads, so we shared the breakfast lounge with a lot of lovely accents, always very pleasant.  As I’m toasting up my ritualistic English muffin, it pops out of the toaster and the lady behind me leans in and asks me - in her English accent - “What do you call that?”

I stop and stumble, feeling a bit silly I answer “Ah, we call it an English Muffin??”  Great another thing we Americans got wrong – faced with a true Englishman, my favorite breakfast is a made up thing.  

Wait, that’s great - long live Thomas’!!   Thanks for my imaginary breakfast – now I can eat them without any worry of calories or carbohydrates, since they really don’t exist after all.  Jolly good fellow that Thomas man, woohoo!!