tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-21667253851689484752024-03-14T00:13:09.399-06:00It Is Interesting To Note...It Is Interesting To Notehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00970970839897478501noreply@blogger.comBlogger271125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166725385168948475.post-79096737131054751212022-05-12T22:02:00.005-06:002022-05-12T22:06:12.617-06:00Sometimes...<p> Sometimes bird pictures are beautiful...but sometimes they're funny. Especially since, after watching Purple Martins nest for hours, I'm pretty sure I've started to understand Martinese.</p><p>And here's a few things I've learned about Purple Martins:</p><p>They're really particular about their neighbors:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLqUuvy4SyAi6SbzwjURhCCb5pmBMYHLyQJvH6crqraFnvugPUSgSZJNkdFzfpKAytRlPJPUfQOXezEYuHOrkTrIn3AREJzTGvu_-1HfLqv2_ktbdTU-NItBkLdNf3XAljD0ljczNN2O743WU_NPMzOvM9CewIYAMHk7RFUy2BuCyugrB5Pmcn9vIm/s872/Martin%20Sparrow.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="593" data-original-width="872" height="435" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLqUuvy4SyAi6SbzwjURhCCb5pmBMYHLyQJvH6crqraFnvugPUSgSZJNkdFzfpKAytRlPJPUfQOXezEYuHOrkTrIn3AREJzTGvu_-1HfLqv2_ktbdTU-NItBkLdNf3XAljD0ljczNN2O743WU_NPMzOvM9CewIYAMHk7RFUy2BuCyugrB5Pmcn9vIm/w640-h435/Martin%20Sparrow.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><p><span style="text-align: center;"><br /></span></p><p><span style="text-align: center;">There's also some debate whether "I saw it first" or "I called it" is the best determination of ownership.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxpXfcg85yxxo7KfygvUPVDN5bE1kkIa9VHzTkPa54pPiR4e3bxQkHN4YDwmgmr-18S-eVhLD8kVi_qIHTFMHRBXsh_fQZ5_YDY0sxyAWlMjse0Jz8Q_C8PAkmprPL0DjUuJ8bQ3-9_GU_RV45d1sAoomvE_hRfc87PukFPVXcOfIJqJ5qNbpQbmIV/s3648/DSC_9045%20(2).JPG" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2431" data-original-width="3648" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxpXfcg85yxxo7KfygvUPVDN5bE1kkIa9VHzTkPa54pPiR4e3bxQkHN4YDwmgmr-18S-eVhLD8kVi_qIHTFMHRBXsh_fQZ5_YDY0sxyAWlMjse0Jz8Q_C8PAkmprPL0DjUuJ8bQ3-9_GU_RV45d1sAoomvE_hRfc87PukFPVXcOfIJqJ5qNbpQbmIV/w320-h213/DSC_9045%20(2).JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiETtAUU6WFCGt6qvqqV9ifpvVsoUaRRsoeNoa0xs00CA638134p3MOlGdPFPsLvALKeaaQkFU2MPFBe560prNmztOp3IBCIO9CCWSDs4iL2CP6kxnhu-L87LJ_KOL8VmAyRraalNjA_g4IZ8MjzyxKZThfsk14DywbcTW82eb8NX8OTMjiNP7Fu_d6/s3528/DSC_9046%20(2).JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2352" data-original-width="3528" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiETtAUU6WFCGt6qvqqV9ifpvVsoUaRRsoeNoa0xs00CA638134p3MOlGdPFPsLvALKeaaQkFU2MPFBe560prNmztOp3IBCIO9CCWSDs4iL2CP6kxnhu-L87LJ_KOL8VmAyRraalNjA_g4IZ8MjzyxKZThfsk14DywbcTW82eb8NX8OTMjiNP7Fu_d6/w320-h213/DSC_9046%20(2).JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhewc8JTWMzTzE1RLnQEgsSTgzK_z4Id0fFpMDwIsAKcGcTMWOzZM_nwPNNyO0Wznc3-8CtnF83yagfoUrXLUENSHWlynD5nIDjTDWEUqnUKca5TjJvUilO4kxxS6r25RlojZAFSgnBJWwJbqPapyt-JVC0BXgAUPp41RM9OW5rMoCnw-qmlAV1_U9g/s3524/DSC_9047%20(2).JPG" style="clear: left; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2349" data-original-width="3524" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhewc8JTWMzTzE1RLnQEgsSTgzK_z4Id0fFpMDwIsAKcGcTMWOzZM_nwPNNyO0Wznc3-8CtnF83yagfoUrXLUENSHWlynD5nIDjTDWEUqnUKca5TjJvUilO4kxxS6r25RlojZAFSgnBJWwJbqPapyt-JVC0BXgAUPp41RM9OW5rMoCnw-qmlAV1_U9g/w320-h213/DSC_9047%20(2).JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I'm sorry to report that the concept of "gracious winner" is completely lost on them.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHR6SR7XIDj8E50wLTu8i9nLUabbaao-oR53b_vWf9TdnTVsAfYBPNWDMoLexcnoGeWurTxkmnA7S9DWZjFImvoTbAWewpo4GvlaEhHMFRuFgt9GebeUNykg2szWryn79HzaxmlQek35iTL1cMQqSyNFs50mPuus_tqw-90SxCWnZeoj-I-E8HiB1u/s715/Martin%20Champion.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="647" data-original-width="715" height="580" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHR6SR7XIDj8E50wLTu8i9nLUabbaao-oR53b_vWf9TdnTVsAfYBPNWDMoLexcnoGeWurTxkmnA7S9DWZjFImvoTbAWewpo4GvlaEhHMFRuFgt9GebeUNykg2szWryn79HzaxmlQek35iTL1cMQqSyNFs50mPuus_tqw-90SxCWnZeoj-I-E8HiB1u/w640-h580/Martin%20Champion.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">But overall I've learned that, as in most species, you can only push the female so far...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgSMuoeITSum81u8sfnM78XLT815D6AJ0aLgD1bi6JoisaUJlBB94Rv8awPDKNmWEDVAYvId6Xxzljs2UgkaCvktqrilBZnIxZqDlyCqdHvXiuYoldPUm36sdaa7YYv0RQEjYaDd9QxVFXCYMZBOd7OrhAdWoJRjdbnIFJMFyUUJqppZ4LCcGurEFem" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="649" data-original-width="943" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgSMuoeITSum81u8sfnM78XLT815D6AJ0aLgD1bi6JoisaUJlBB94Rv8awPDKNmWEDVAYvId6Xxzljs2UgkaCvktqrilBZnIxZqDlyCqdHvXiuYoldPUm36sdaa7YYv0RQEjYaDd9QxVFXCYMZBOd7OrhAdWoJRjdbnIFJMFyUUJqppZ4LCcGurEFem=w640-h440" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjO8n2m7mxvt7dpVtvRD86ziB_vC7kiinXxpT2R-SVrmtJjv5KJ-bifDRlLIOMpFEb5TtKxwdPulhTWR3v3h9YNwDuTo2AdxTxaSLcCoDJO6dHwhgj5fDaf-1eHkUtH3ftFXKNX_Dyopyvrn1OsFT6S0m-txkdyMkxVmK3viSO5WFt66SSdkSy4Kd1R" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img data-original-height="628" data-original-width="914" height="440" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjO8n2m7mxvt7dpVtvRD86ziB_vC7kiinXxpT2R-SVrmtJjv5KJ-bifDRlLIOMpFEb5TtKxwdPulhTWR3v3h9YNwDuTo2AdxTxaSLcCoDJO6dHwhgj5fDaf-1eHkUtH3ftFXKNX_Dyopyvrn1OsFT6S0m-txkdyMkxVmK3viSO5WFt66SSdkSy4Kd1R=w640-h440" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguudBOoon03tEvFncpGCyCbkmwVRnt8Ph60UsUEiOrVUkTHFMcgiGve5sVtvrfeoE-l4TCjmy37pvXeBmrFyx1xZVNekgraTWNRb37Bqej9TCFvsWX7kfS4oYYRvXBwNo28JjwRzLqsxdHillMVYi4XSHEGgjxQwThY6mdI8DSjlmPmrNtMspax7_P/s937/Chirping%20word.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="585" data-original-width="937" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguudBOoon03tEvFncpGCyCbkmwVRnt8Ph60UsUEiOrVUkTHFMcgiGve5sVtvrfeoE-l4TCjmy37pvXeBmrFyx1xZVNekgraTWNRb37Bqej9TCFvsWX7kfS4oYYRvXBwNo28JjwRzLqsxdHillMVYi4XSHEGgjxQwThY6mdI8DSjlmPmrNtMspax7_P/w640-h400/Chirping%20word.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />At which point Martin wisely remembers he needs to see a man about a worm...</div><br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjErwkoweR6nfUuH1YwAWoa7Pc9DOltva_eGtE9hUkGB_Xu6NHi85HTUHY2LCxSXXECArxX6XJgnP4r9QDFhxdxJ-KIXC_uPdme7awtcexaD5VtQgwjUQ8QCPoD7pCea05tfnkpKxiZ4YRd_nZrTajkHrjClWuICiy_c4jOOPu15DXKqFWpF2BJ1Y-V/s3666/DSC_9229%20(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2444" data-original-width="3666" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjErwkoweR6nfUuH1YwAWoa7Pc9DOltva_eGtE9hUkGB_Xu6NHi85HTUHY2LCxSXXECArxX6XJgnP4r9QDFhxdxJ-KIXC_uPdme7awtcexaD5VtQgwjUQ8QCPoD7pCea05tfnkpKxiZ4YRd_nZrTajkHrjClWuICiy_c4jOOPu15DXKqFWpF2BJ1Y-V/w640-h426/DSC_9229%20(2).JPG" width="640" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br />It Is Interesting To Notehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00970970839897478501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166725385168948475.post-38917978120120920682022-02-15T16:39:00.000-06:002022-02-15T16:39:12.392-06:00Discombubulation<p class="yiv9589497742ydpa17504d9msonormal" style="background: white;"><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Discom<b>bub</b>ulated,
that’s how I’ve been feeling lately.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="yiv9589497742ydpa17504d9msonormal" style="background: white;"><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Which, in case you aren’t familiar with the term, is a lot like
being discom<b>bob</b>ulated. The main difference is that discombobulation is
the direct result of Bub Dog shenanigans.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="yiv9589497742ydpa17504d9msonormal" style="background: white;"><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Bub Dog, in case you aren’t familiar with the myriad of animals
who share our home, is our 16-year-old, half-Beagle, half-Rottweiler mix. <o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="yiv9589497742ydpa17504d9msonormal" style="background: white;"><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Bub, our
dog sitters used to tell us, is the easiest dog in the world. He’s not crazy about strange men and he has
been known to kill the occasional squirrel…but all in all, he’s a sweetie and has
even been nicknamed “Love Bub” by my friend Martha after he obsessively snuggled with her
during a weekend visit.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgtRP33CGJK2hXdXRYZAk44VCaDtjyfRueIog9_2H97wDNL6rJk66OT9ux5SWKypDA1QNhTCjOTBAaKzeptOD-KDAYJ9iVHpNL4awiKS3fkvzBtjD5_EE8S2_I62viCXmpGHO4tBnWue4YeV1u3SyeLnOSnjeIL79_hZuLjYnvRCemhjpHMdawZiao4=s1440" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1440" data-original-width="1440" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgtRP33CGJK2hXdXRYZAk44VCaDtjyfRueIog9_2H97wDNL6rJk66OT9ux5SWKypDA1QNhTCjOTBAaKzeptOD-KDAYJ9iVHpNL4awiKS3fkvzBtjD5_EE8S2_I62viCXmpGHO4tBnWue4YeV1u3SyeLnOSnjeIL79_hZuLjYnvRCemhjpHMdawZiao4=s320" width="320" /></a></div><br /><o:p></o:p><p></p>
<p class="yiv9589497742ydpa17504d9msonormal" style="background: white;"><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">And then
he turned 16.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="yiv9589497742ydpa17504d9msonormal" style="background: white;"><span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">At which
point he not only turned into a cur<b>bub</b>geon but also decided, after a lifetime
of putting up with small dog and kitty cat shenanigans, he was ready to do a
little shenaniganizing of his own.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So, here’s how a typical day with our beloved Bub goes now:<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="background: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">4:00 PM - I give Bub one of his
nightly medicines, the one that he needs about 90 minutes before eating.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">4:01 PM - Bub mentions that these pills are a
delicious amuse-bouche but he’d prefer to go ahead and eat his actual meal and
could I please go get his food right now?</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">4:10 PM - Bub wonders if I have perhaps
misunderstood his request and helpfully goes over and starts licking his bowl
and pushing it around the room. Then, fearing that I’m not the brightest
biscuit in the bunch, goes over and starts pushing Sassy’s bowl around the room
too.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">4:25 PM - Bub gets on the couch, heaves a big
sigh and announces that he’s hungrier than he’s ever been in his entire life,
possibly hungrier than any dog in canine history, he’s probably starving to
death before my eyes and it will be a barking miracle if he can make it back
over to his bowl, much less nibble a few pieces of kibble.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">4:26 PM - Bub promptly falls asleep and starts
snoring away like a snoring snorapotamus.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">5:15 PM - Opie starts getting the animals’
evening meal together. </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">5:16 PM - Bub wakes up to the glorious sound of
food hitting the bowl but then, horror of horrors, remembers he can’t get off
the couch on his own anymore.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">5:17 - 5:30 PM Bub resists all attempts to help
him off the couch, miraculously turning to stone and gaining 7000 pounds every
time we try to pick him up. He also adamantly maintains that the $70 ramp we
got him for just this reason is wobbly and weak and the scariest thing EVER.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">5:30 PM - We wave the white flag, put the ramp
aside, pull the cushions off the couch, and use them to build a mini staircase.
Bub tiptoes down and immediately demands to know why his dinner is late.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">5:45 PM – With dinner but a distant memory, Bub
goes outside to do his nightly business. Since part of his new shenanigans includes
eating anything he can get his paws on in the yard and subsequently puking all
over the house, one of us goes out with him and spends an entertaining 15-20
minutes shooing him away from bird seed, rabbit poop, wood chips, cat poop, sticks,
poop of unknown origin, and various other delicious yard-related delights.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">6:00 – 10:00 PM Bub is a mutt on a mission, a
dog with a destiny, a pup with a plan…all of which involve going outside and continuing
his gourmet journey around the yard. He whines to be let out, we let him out on
the deck, he walks the perimeter of the deck in case an escape hatch will
miraculously open, comes back to the door and barks to be let back in.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">He alternates between these behaviors for
most of the night.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">At this point, some of you are wondering if Opie
and I are some sort of evil puppy parents and are deliberately starving this
poor, abused animal. Let me reassure you that Bubba is NOT underfed. We have
talked to the vet, we have monitored his weight, we have even bought him the
most disgusting-smelling wet food in creation to supplement his dietary needs
(he loves it!). Plus, I fling treats at these animals with reckless abandon.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">The cat’s getting his nails cut?</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Everyone gets a treat. Sassy’s getting
brushed? Everyone gets a treat. Everyone is sitting around looking adorable?
Treats all around! In short, this dog does NOT need more food…and he certainly
doesn’t need more food that he is only going to puke up all over my floor.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">But I digress…because Bub’s routine doesn’t end
at bedtime.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> 1</span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">1:00 – 1:00 AM At some point in this window, the
Bub comes to my side of the bed to wake me up. He whines, chuffs big lungfuls
of delightful doggy breath in my face and insists that he needs to go out
immediately. It’s an emergency, he can’t wait until morning, he isn’t even
thinking about eating something in the yard, he just really, really, REALLY
needs to go.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">I get up, struggle into my coat etc and sleepily
wander outside with him. He does make a good show of lifting his leg – he doesn’t
always go but he does at least pretend – then invariably catches a whiff of
something disgustingly delicious and we start running around the yard much more
quickly than a chubby middle-aged woman and a 16-year-old dog should,
especially in the middle of the night. This is often followed by hushed cursing, loud barking, and a mini-wrestling match to get him back in the house.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">On a good night, this happens once. On a bad
night, we repeat this 2 or 3 times.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">Why do I keep getting up? Because this is a </span><b style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">16-year-old
dog</b><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> and sometimes - just often enough to make me nervous - he really does need to go.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">1:00-3:30 AM – During this time frame the cat stops
prowling around the house and gets in bed – which doesn’t seem important but
trust me, causes all sorts of issues.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal" style="background: white; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 0in;"><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;"> </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">3:30 – 4:30 AM Bub wakes up, wonders if it’s too early for
a snack and then suddenly realizes that he is the ONLY ANIMAL NOT IN THE BED. This
is, of course, a tragedy and a travesty and must be addressed immediately. Not
by actually getting in the bed – that’s too high for him and we’ve already discussed
the ramp controversy – but by making sure he gets equal snuggle time.
Immediately. On the couch.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I used to argue, I used to try to make him get in his own
bed and hold out until morning. I used to think if I just ignored him long
enough, he’d settle down.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But, as Bub has explained multiple times, he’s an old doggo
with nothing to lose. He’ll whine, he’ll cough right in my face, he’ll cry, he’ll
bark, he’ll walk out of the bedroom in hopes that I’ll follow, then he’ll come
back and start all over again.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">What he won’t do is give up.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Now, most nights, I just grab my pillow, stumble to the
couch with all three animals at my heels, and try to sleep while contemplating
whose bright idea it was to have all these pets in the first place.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So if you're wondering why I haven't blogged much lately or why I wander around staring into space and talking to myself, it's because </span><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">most days, I’m completely discom</span><b style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">bub</b><span style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">ulated.</span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And tired.<o:p></o:p></span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span></p>
<p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span> </p>It Is Interesting To Notehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00970970839897478501noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166725385168948475.post-24225657001229346762020-06-17T15:38:00.000-06:002020-06-17T15:44:25.740-06:00Furious Foos Fight Back<div dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; color: #1d2228; font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;">
The most important thing to note in this blog is that I'm ok.<br />
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The second most important thing is that the Foos are clearly conspiring to kill me.</div>
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Basically, what I'm saying is that the following things may or may not have happened:</div>
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The Foos, in their rotten Foo-ness, may have decided to spend yesterday morning scampering in and out of the garden, into the flower beds, and all around the hosta, searching for and munching on any scrap of plant that hadn't been coated with the incredibly fetid Bunny-B-Gone.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjotpBesm4I8RtAwa0t3L9WfqgZ9nOijnKVEIDENA506twwI6DANzuiuhTD8BAPDupga6pM_Ah2ApcuPufinJRgEhb2wY3VlAKKVS5GPtOkg5j-p5CCx32y8emMGigc3nh8Zw8bJASNEW8/s1600/Foot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; display: inline !important; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1497" data-original-width="1600" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjotpBesm4I8RtAwa0t3L9WfqgZ9nOijnKVEIDENA506twwI6DANzuiuhTD8BAPDupga6pM_Ah2ApcuPufinJRgEhb2wY3VlAKKVS5GPtOkg5j-p5CCx32y8emMGigc3nh8Zw8bJASNEW8/s200/Foot.jpg" width="200" /></a>It is also possible that, enraged beyond reason, I may have run over to chase them off...and I might have been wearing flip flops...and, in spite of my natural grace, I may have tripped and, ever so gracefully, fallen off the deck.</div>
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At this point the Foos DEFINITELY DID take advantage of my obvious incapacitation to scamper around the yard in what can only be described as an aggressively exultant manner, snacking on plants in a Foo Feeding Frenzy, stopping only long enough to shoot occasional glances in my direction and laugh at me behind their paws.</div>
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It is also possible that I am now, with the incredible agility and skill of a Ninja warrior, hobbling around with my poor left foot encased in a huge walking boot.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXbke12YdaS21wOYoTF3uhgsdD0p6B1wIxEO3kHIoSp-VomYVHmnZzXdOPXsMrq-AfJLWooDQHpz0YhqgJQLyVLWulgWYuDYzYU4zwT08jnHGV59x8KXytm6Nm2YY5yKFAI1wbzw6z8Rg/s1600/Foot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-="" data-original-height="1497" div="" id="fb-root" /></a></div>
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This, I'm sure, puts several questions in everyone's heads...</div>
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1. Am I ok? Yes, mostly. The doc thinks it's sprained not broken...a diagnosis I agree with since I consider myself something of an expert on broken ankles after the unfortunate Redbull Incident of 2002.</div>
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2. Am I in pain? Yes, my foot hurts.</div>
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3. Have I gotten my revenge on the Foos for their ferocious foraging? Not yet. I've been dreaming of new and possibly violent ways to keep them out of the garden but I have been unable to implement them because, as I may have mentioned, my foot hurts.</div>
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4. Am I at all concerned that we are almost out of milk, coffee, and dog food and am thus planning a quick trip to the store? No, my foot hurts.</div>
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5. Will I be making dinner in the foreseeable future? Only if I can do it from my chair because my foot hurts.</div>
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So the long and the short of it is that the Foos have won yet another battle in our ongoing war for control of the garden. I have been removed from the battlefield, bloody but unbowed and I am determined to triumph in the end....though not today because my foot hurts.</div>
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It Is Interesting To Notehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00970970839897478501noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166725385168948475.post-64321933950695941092020-05-20T20:19:00.001-06:002020-05-20T20:21:55.955-06:00Bunny Foo-Foo and Who Flung Poo<br />
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<span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">A lot of people have been
asking about the possum problem. I’m pleased to report that it has been solved.
There’s not an epic tale involved in this solution; he’s just not living under
the porch anymore. This could be because possums, according to the National
Humane Society, don’t stay the same place very long. But I like to think it’s
due to my vigilant efforts of constantly spraying water into any crevice a possum
could be hiding, shining light into said crevice and stomping around the porch
in front of the backdoor like I was trying to break through.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLFV33NOfXwgnqx2Z-0_FaA7dtWgammxHJ8slG9or_bbpxbh34smyFx-U67p6p__m4Cay85PZgIOLW8nHZEpL6wwfhUzpZ6tuvxv1tIry56hA_URWSVMT2yewPER3eeODM4ks3pP85Eo8/s1600/squirrel+fence.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1578" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLFV33NOfXwgnqx2Z-0_FaA7dtWgammxHJ8slG9or_bbpxbh34smyFx-U67p6p__m4Cay85PZgIOLW8nHZEpL6wwfhUzpZ6tuvxv1tIry56hA_URWSVMT2yewPER3eeODM4ks3pP85Eo8/s200/squirrel+fence.jpg" width="196" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is the evil, unnamed squirrel leaning<br />
over the fence, gauging when he can<br />
make a run at the feeders.</td></tr>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">But please don’t think
that just because we didn’t have to fight the possum as much as I had
originally feared that this spring has been free from fighting. We’ve had a
shocking number of wildlife battles in the last month or so. First this is the
first of these is very common: the squirrel Who has decided his life’s mission
is to empty my birdfeeders as quickly as animally possible. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">His newest trick is to climb up to the supposedly squirrel-proof suet
feeder, hang on it upside down, grab suet chunks with his grubby little paws,
and shove them in his grubby little mouth. My newest trick is to sneak out
while he’s doing it, try to turn on the water without him seeing, then spray the
hose in his general direction while shouting at the top of my lungs.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">It hasn’t exactly been a success.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Even worse are the bunnies.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">If you ever watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer, you might remember
how Anya, the former vengeance demon, thought bunnies were terrifying and even
dressed as a big white bunny for Halloween because it was the scariest thing
she could think of.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">And then you probably laughed at Anya.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Newsflash: ANYA WAS RIGHT.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Oh sure, they look cute with their fluffy tails, their floppy ears
and twitchy little noses…but this is all a disguise to cover up their evil
hearts.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSwblbbBtwys7h1vN_xMnEd3uGlri9Btoe75U-z4sINEyzfGR3YcNJ-FE4C-7zHgInNTonLOSZvawqtT0-60foM_9Mie4igTifz42YMIfb4fqAj1DaLUP9dT2UV1PXM-AWx4-N9bPSaFk/s1600/Bunny+Foo+Foo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1444" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSwblbbBtwys7h1vN_xMnEd3uGlri9Btoe75U-z4sINEyzfGR3YcNJ-FE4C-7zHgInNTonLOSZvawqtT0-60foM_9Mie4igTifz42YMIfb4fqAj1DaLUP9dT2UV1PXM-AWx4-N9bPSaFk/s200/Bunny+Foo+Foo.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bunny Foo-Foo</td></tr>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">It wasn’t so bad last year when we only had one of the demons living
under the far side of the deck. </span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">We chuckled at its antics, carefully shooed it
away before we let the dogs outside, and even named it Bunny Foo-Foo after the children’s
song…and just like that, we were lured into Bunny Foo Foo’s evil web. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Because this year, there is a new Foo in town. In fact, there are
two new Foo.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpIRcUY_G5QeI_xJXaYQQzNJxIBkx15pXNeiW16CIh1ClkesdX8L53AjKxpR7fkSUpF1_4aa8hsOveUfRhUfpqtWlk7JrYMwKrCO1lFIoj_P4rCL6vUXcFQScMjgWD5REhBOF3pRFIyng/s1600/Little+foo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1045" data-original-width="1600" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpIRcUY_G5QeI_xJXaYQQzNJxIBkx15pXNeiW16CIh1ClkesdX8L53AjKxpR7fkSUpF1_4aa8hsOveUfRhUfpqtWlk7JrYMwKrCO1lFIoj_P4rCL6vUXcFQScMjgWD5REhBOF3pRFIyng/s200/Little+foo.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Little Foo</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5thIYL-f9dLstIZWwdiUEfmsdnlZGdKBRzVAV9n1Gm2v3n5ca9H6bERZM3qe9U6YSG9CX4UH3CDT7WSizSKdRkMGJihlvhFjmwbBuDqaVzlt7D_4mGXz-OtcR0hyphenhyphenQAkTRtaqiwi0BVRw/s1600/Mini+Foo.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1133" data-original-width="1600" height="141" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5thIYL-f9dLstIZWwdiUEfmsdnlZGdKBRzVAV9n1Gm2v3n5ca9H6bERZM3qe9U6YSG9CX4UH3CDT7WSizSKdRkMGJihlvhFjmwbBuDqaVzlt7D_4mGXz-OtcR0hyphenhyphenQAkTRtaqiwi0BVRw/s200/Mini+Foo.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mini Foo</td></tr>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">This, if you’d like to see photographic evidence of their evil
hearts, is Mini Foo having a chew.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3gQ6SKmSbi6SKMg1sBqTidBHa7ab2W7nCbazfKLmjG-FnbqfNXBRo9PV0uczRsTVVSoIBYHyjK-ymC-FwvZda-t55u_rsWjfiSEVtOwGblCyS_Z7uL9u3ZNOLnUtaDPOYpGDz5UHRfqc/s1600/Min+Foo+Chew+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1092" data-original-width="1600" height="136" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3gQ6SKmSbi6SKMg1sBqTidBHa7ab2W7nCbazfKLmjG-FnbqfNXBRo9PV0uczRsTVVSoIBYHyjK-ymC-FwvZda-t55u_rsWjfiSEVtOwGblCyS_Z7uL9u3ZNOLnUtaDPOYpGDz5UHRfqc/s200/Min+Foo+Chew+3.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Which, in a nutshell, encapsulates the problem with bunnies: they are
EVIL EATERS OF ENVIRONMENTAL ORNAMENTS!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Or, in slightly clearer terms, they eat everything!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">They nibble on my nasturtiums, lunch on my lilies, hunger for my
hosta, snack on my snapdragons…they especially love the huge number of native
plants I’ve put out, like coneflowers and blanket flowers, but that didn’t
quite work from an alliterative standpoint.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">In any case, I have tried everything with these ridiculous rabbits.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I put cayenne pepper on all the plants – please notice how red the
hosta is in the picture above while Mini Foo blissfully has a chew.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I covered the little seedlings with pla</span>nters every night and
uncovered them every morning…the bunnies bravely brunched on the blooms and
buds.</div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I attempted to bribe the bunnies with delicious carrots and
lettuce left in an enticing pile far from the flower gardens. The bunnies
treated this as an amuse bouche, chowing it down then heading back to </span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">the flowers
to fill up.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">I even resorted to reason, explaining to the Foo Family that they
were perpetuating the worst kind of bunny stereotypes, giving a bad name to
bunnies everywhere, and should consider how they ould improve bunnies’ standing
in the gardening world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">But these are the most self-involved, socially irresponsible
bunnies imaginable…proven by the fact that that very night they responded by
eating EVERY SINGLE ONE of my Stargazer Lilies.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">To say I didn’t handle this well is an understatement of EPIC proportions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Let’s jump over the histrionics that occurred when I discovered
the carnage and fast forward to my furious rant to Opie a little later when I
vowed that I would get those bunnies to leave our yard if it was the last thing
I ever did and that they didn’t know what they were in for because I was going
to give them the “possum treatment!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Opie allowed as how he had no idea what I was talking about but
that it sounded impressive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">First, I bought this highly recommended (and environmentally
friendly!) bunny repellent and doused the plants with it…which, honestly,
smells so foul, it’s possible that it will also keep humans and dogs from
spending too much time in the yard…not helped by the fact that I also added a
thick layer of cayenne pepper and garlic to the perimeter of each garden as a
double whammy of protection.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">But that wasn’t the possum treatment…the possum treatment means
making their little bunny abode under the deck as uncomfortable as possible. I spray
water under the deck from all angles every night, shine bright lights under the
deck to illuminate their hidey hole, and stomp back and forth like a toddler
having a tantrum.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;">Then, in a disgusting show of desperation, I actually scooped up some
of the “dog dirt” from the yard and tossed it under the far side of the deck
into the bunnies’ abode.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">It’s interesting to note
that, when I told Opie this part the story, he stared at me in what I thought
was a shocked silence for a long minute. Only to realize that he was instead
relishing the chance to make a joke he may have been saving since the second
grade.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">“This finally answers the
question.” he said in an almost reverent tone. “Who flung Poo? It was you. You
flung Poo!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">I don’t like to think this
was the happiest moment of his life but it wouldn’t exactly stun me to learn it
was in the top 10.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";">In any case, that is what
quarantine has reduced us to: poop jokes and animal abuse. Hope the rest of you
are holding up better…but if you have any sure-fire rabbit repellent tips, let
me know!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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It Is Interesting To Notehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00970970839897478501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166725385168948475.post-73941801487252722472020-04-16T15:51:00.000-06:002020-04-16T16:01:19.100-06:00Mystery Solved!<div id="fb-root">
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Well the Mysterious Mystery of the Midnight Marauder has
been solved.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Spoiler: It wasn’t a skunk.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Double Spoiler: It wasn’t a bunny either.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I mean, I did get some video of a bunny scampering by the
first night I put out the GoPro and this did make Opie think he had called it.
And I had some pretty deep-seeded concerns that I would have to admit he was
right all along.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzOT0yrtfxShRdN2d52hRaY0bBphb41ehKkZCZbQQL-l_1uJNknMvYsr19XNamVruLgHjOz5ufLZyGOONI4tg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But then this morning all was revealed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I got up around 5:30, like I always do, and took the dogs
out back. Again, like I always do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I
knew immediately that something was wrong, that the jig (or critter) was up
because instead of going into the yard, the ridiculous dogs ran around the deck,
sniffing and scratching, scratching and sniffing, and generally causing a
ruckus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sassy ran back over to the area
in front of the back door and, just like a few days ago, began digging and
barking at the flooring.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">I snatched her up and got her inside only to realize that Bubba
had darted off the porch and was charging across the yard exactly like a dog
who doesn’t realize he’s 14 and should therefore have his critter hunting days
behind him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So, I grabbed a flashlight (it was 5:30, people, it was
still pretty dark!) and charged out after him exactly like a woman who doesn’t
realize she’s not so young herself and should therefore have her critter hunting
days behind her.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Then, when I caught up with the Bub, I realized he was
pawing and nudging this big lump of fur with his nose. And, at first, I was
horrified because I thought that he had killed a bunny.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Until I took a step closer and saw it wasn’t a bunny at
all. It was a possum!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In related news, as I was writing this blog I started
wondering if it was opossum or possum or both and, being the research nerd that
I am, immediately stopped writing so I could find out.</span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm37cys57BDMDy4mT36_zN5Edx1PDKAgfpLD5-UKmvA4XAck2BV2KFVbzmU5cbuDzagmabYvJe_Qn9Q53qcU_39ndboKmSgZBkpfkQexTUZ-TUaXopFUn1mhSqpeatx6QuLLGTE4ythWM/s1600/Phalanger.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="897" data-original-width="1200" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm37cys57BDMDy4mT36_zN5Edx1PDKAgfpLD5-UKmvA4XAck2BV2KFVbzmU5cbuDzagmabYvJe_Qn9Q53qcU_39ndboKmSgZBkpfkQexTUZ-TUaXopFUn1mhSqpeatx6QuLLGTE4ythWM/s200/Phalanger.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This, in case you're wondering,<br />
is a phalanger.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">According to the Merriam Webster Dictionary, both are
correct when referring to the marsupial that meanders around North America. It’s
interesting to note that in Australia and New Zealand, there is a similar
creature referred to as a possum that is actually a phalanger. Seeing as this
blog is written in North America, that’s probably not relevant but honestly, I just
can’t help myself. Anyway, what is relevant is that in the US, <i>possum</i> is the
common usage while scientific journals etc. prefer <i>opossum</i>.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;"> </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt;">However, when referring to the act of lying
on the ground pretending to be dead, the expression is always “<i>playing possum</i>”
not “<i>playing opossum</i>” Probably because alliteration is awesome.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In any case, now you all know all you’ve ever wanted to
know about the etymology of possum, opossum, and phalanger.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">You’re welcome.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But, to get back to the overall point, I ran over to the
side yard, saw the poor possum lying on its side, mouth gaping open, and had to
literally wrestle Bubba away from it and in the house.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Then I ran back outside…I’m honestly not 100% sure why. I
mean, Opie is usually firmly in charge of carcass removal. But he was up most
of the night working and I was trying to let him sleep a little later and I guess
I thought I was going to see if there was anything I could do before dragging
him out of bed…<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But none of that mattered because the possum wasn’t dead…it
was, you guessed it, PLAYING POSSUM!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU_Efa8xouYrpsw4k9d9fMmy_3vmRhjkoT0ymwCV_mc26njccTj6TXMOwLj3LElRn0safJ00BVLNFpVBWv6AelX94uGYOAowo-CUaIJaZV_pw29O60N3ZWPsrZdS1T0HaCTKnZkjUPpGM/s1600/Playing+possum.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="768" data-original-width="1024" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU_Efa8xouYrpsw4k9d9fMmy_3vmRhjkoT0ymwCV_mc26njccTj6TXMOwLj3LElRn0safJ00BVLNFpVBWv6AelX94uGYOAowo-CUaIJaZV_pw29O60N3ZWPsrZdS1T0HaCTKnZkjUPpGM/s320/Playing+possum.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This isn't the possum in question. It's a totally different possum<br />
playing possum. I'm including it to show you, they really<br />
LOOK DEAD even though they're faking.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And when I shone my flashlight on him, he jumped to his
feet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In other related news, we are now very grateful for social
distancing as this may be the only reason the neighbors haven’t come over to
complain about a woman screaming profanity in the backyard at 5:30 in the
morning.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">But, horrified neighbors notwithstanding, this leaves us
with the problem of what to do about the possum that is currently squatting
underneath our deck.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Because, tree-hugging, animal-loving, bleeding-heart
liberal that I am, I don’t want to kill the possum. They don’t carry rabies,
they eat a lot of ticks, they’re good for the environment, they’re cute in
their own ugly way…but he’s not paying rent plus he’s bigger than Sassy and,
tough as she THINKS she is, I don’t see her coming out on top in a possum vs puppy
brawl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, I don’t want to kill him but
I really don’t want him to live here any more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">My first step was to text my fellow tree-hugging, animal-loving
bleeding-heart liberal and now possibly ex-friend, Eric, and ask what he
thought I should do with a porch-dwelling possum<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">He said they really like
cuddles and kisses.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Which kind of reminded me
of the time I called Eric to find out what to do about the snake that was in
the compost bin. That time he said, “You’re so lucky! You must have a really
healthy ecosystem going!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Which makes me question
why I continue to call Eric in these situations at all.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">In any case, Opie and I
have come up with two very distinct plans. Opie‘s plan is to do nothing until I
run out of plans. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">My plan is to use water
and light and loud noises to effectively convince the possum that our porch is
no place to raise a family.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Failing that, I guess we
could get some live traps put them out and trap the thing and then try to
relocate it. At which point I will, obviously, take the day off work, drive to
St. Louis and deposit the possum in Eric’s garage. Partially because you have
to take them pretty far away if you don’t want them to come back. And partially
because I really want to give Eric useless advice when he calls.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The long and the short
of it is that the possum won the first battle but I fully intend to win the war.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ll keep you all posted!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p><br /></o:p></span></div>
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This, sadly, is the only picture I got of the possum...and, yes, I know it's terrible. But it's not as easy to manage a flashlight & take a photo in the dark while also running away cursing as you might think.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7KgC2DdF6ZFEKRNe3B9d6yLpKZV_OylIRtFgo1xDorPd19pTiLSl3E50u_5nEcodQyGUmGAv0mW9rCyqeUchglwmc8KpYUoKNSKQxoZoSW8Jcmv2wqHd-0r1BwbrYZhbWUH5qpk98sNk/s1600/Possum+in+yard_LI.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="664" data-original-width="774" height="274" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7KgC2DdF6ZFEKRNe3B9d6yLpKZV_OylIRtFgo1xDorPd19pTiLSl3E50u_5nEcodQyGUmGAv0mW9rCyqeUchglwmc8KpYUoKNSKQxoZoSW8Jcmv2wqHd-0r1BwbrYZhbWUH5qpk98sNk/s320/Possum+in+yard_LI.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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It Is Interesting To Notehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00970970839897478501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166725385168948475.post-4213122694001018052020-04-13T21:20:00.001-06:002020-04-13T21:23:23.146-06:00Critters, Creatures and A Little Bit of Craziness<br />
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We have a critter living under the deck.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And I know some of you are saying “Yes, we know, you’ve
talked about that stupid bunny 10 times. Nobody is really interested in your
bizarre bunny banter!”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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First of all, while I am always a helpless slave to
alliteration, that’s just rude. This is my blog and I can talk about whatever I
want. But, more importantly, this is NOT the bunny but an entirely new critter.
See, the deck runs the entire length of the house and the bunny lives on the
far right end. The new critter, the critter of unknown identity, lives on the
far left end of the deck. The end, might I add, that is closest to the back door.</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdI2OGJnRip5GzVIVwqSJqNLtP9jXXE1Yh9wGtnnP8-9GRWQDbEYWvluSh5n9jEmkZjbh_7qlCiqDvZNPmbyF0sfFG7zhYvPaKowcq8L-0cZ156ZURIndvSneSoRyc3Uj2wxC-y2gwWIc/s1600/Pip+Easter+2020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdI2OGJnRip5GzVIVwqSJqNLtP9jXXE1Yh9wGtnnP8-9GRWQDbEYWvluSh5n9jEmkZjbh_7qlCiqDvZNPmbyF0sfFG7zhYvPaKowcq8L-0cZ156ZURIndvSneSoRyc3Uj2wxC-y2gwWIc/s200/Pip+Easter+2020.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">No, this obviously isn't a real<br />
bunny and this blog has nothing<br />
to do with Pipsqueak Meow...but<br />
this is a hilarious picture and<br />
marginally relevant.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<o:p></o:p><br />
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Which means every time I step out of the house,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I keep imagining some practically preternatural
monster sticking a claw up through the boards of the deck, grabbing my ankle and
dragging me down to its lair.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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And if you’re scoffing at the idea of my slightly chubby
frame being dragged through the tiny space between deck flooring, then you obviously
haven’t read Stephen King’s short story The Raft in which a very similar thing is
described in horrifying detail.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Since I have read The Raft, I can (and DO!) imagine my bloody,
painful death every time I step onto the back porch. Plus, I’m having horrible
flashbacks to <a href="https://kimbo325.blogspot.com/2005/03/wildlife-in-walls_1.html" target="_blank">2005 when the vicious, mutant-sized raccoon</a> and I battled for possession
of my house.<o:p></o:p></div>
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An experience that should have taught me never to do critter
research on the Internet.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But I get ahead of myself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> I should probably start by explaining how I </span>discovered the presence of the critter. What happened was,
I was out in the yard with the ridiculous dogs and I noticed a hole in one
corner of the flower bed in front of the left side of the deck. I inspected said
hole and thought to myself, “Self,” I thought, “those look ever so slightly
like claw marks in the dirt around that hole.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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I consulted with the dogs and they not only agreed that we
had a mysterious mystery on our hands but immediately began sniffing around the
hole and then all along the side of the deck in their best imitation of drug dogs
on the job.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Unfortunately, these are NOT drug dogs so they don’t realize
that alerting the suspect that he (or it) is under surveillance is sub-par
police work. Instead, they sniffed all along the left side of the deck, right
up to the house, and both began barking and digging and running around like a
couple of lunatics. Then they ran up the steps toward the back door and resumed
barking and digging at the deck right in front of the back door.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Then I – also woefully poor at hot pursuit and thinking only
of keeping the deck from doggy destruction – ran over, pushed Bubba out of the
way and reached down to snatch Sassy up in my arms. And that’s when whatever is
currently lurking under the deck growled at us.<o:p></o:p></div>
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At this point, I walked the dogs calmly in the house and
told Opie we might need to call an exterminator.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Or, as he tells it, ran in the house with the dogs yelling
about monsters and using the F word like a comma.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“It’s the bunny,” he assured me when we all calmed down.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“Bunnies don’t growl!” I retorted.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Except, of course, I have no idea if bunnies growl or not. I
mean, I’ve never heard one growl but I don’t get into violent arguments with
bunnies very often so I guess I can’t be sure.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And that’s when I made my biggest mistake: I started
researching on the Internet. Which is not, you’ll be stunned to hear, filled
with sweet stories of critters and and canines and Kimberlys living together in
joyous harmony. <o:p></o:p></div>
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It is interesting to note that even in an urban setting,
there are an alarming number of creatures that have been known to make their
home underneath people’s homes…which means Opie had an entertaining evening in
which I randomly shouted out possibilities, rabies statistics and other informative
information.<o:p></o:p></div>
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“It’s the bunny!!” He kept insisting. <o:p></o:p></div>
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Which just goes to show you Opie doesn’t really understand
the wily ways of wildlife. Plus, he wasn’t at all interested in listening to
the various recordings of different animals growling and was unimpressed when I
told him the skunk sound on this website: <a href="https://www.crittercontrol.com/wildlife/skunks/skunk-noises" target="_blank">Critter Control</a> sounded the closest to
what I’d heard. He even went so far as to imply it sounded more like a whine
than a growl.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
Which also goes to show you that, as much as I love him, Opie
isn’t really at the top of the animal identification game.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
This is probably also why he didn’t want to come outside and
help me tie the GoPro to the deck post above the hole in an effort to time
lapse video the creature’s egress and ingress throughout the night. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
So, the long and the short of it is, there’s a critter
living under the deck, it might or might not be but probably is a skunk, and if
I manage to get video evidence, I will only mention it to Opie once a day for
the rest of our lives.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
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It Is Interesting To Notehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00970970839897478501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166725385168948475.post-91431851221757322372020-04-06T19:52:00.003-06:002020-04-06T19:53:54.539-06:00Lock Down and Looney Animals<div class="ydpe2a43b7dyiv3746063473yahoo-style-wrap" data-setdir="false" dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;">
In case any of you are wondering how things are going over here at the Yates Estates during all this lock down, I've put together a little Q&A that should give you some insight into the wild world of Kimberly.</div>
<div class="ydpe2a43b7dyiv3746063473yahoo-style-wrap" dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ydpe2a43b7dyiv3746063473yahoo-style-wrap" dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;">
And, no, don't worry, you don't have to come up with any questions or answers. I am putting together the things that you SHOULD be asking to get a clearer picture of the scene on the ground, as it were.</div>
<div class="ydpe2a43b7dyiv3746063473yahoo-style-wrap" dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ydpe2a43b7dyiv3746063473yahoo-style-wrap" dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ydpe2a43b7dyiv3746063473yahoo-style-wrap" data-setdir="false" dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;">
1.<b> Did the sprinkler system go completely wackadoo, turning the backyard into a squishy swamp and necessitating prayer that sprinkler repair was an essential business?</b></div>
<div class="ydpe2a43b7dyiv3746063473yahoo-style-wrap" data-setdir="false" dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ydpe2a43b7dyiv3746063473yahoo-style-wrap" dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;">
Yes...and, luckily, they are an essential business because they got over here pretty darn quickly, we shouted at each other from an appropriate social distance and they went right to work.</div>
<div class="ydpe2a43b7dyiv3746063473yahoo-style-wrap" dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;">
<br /></div>
<div class="ydpe2a43b7dyiv3746063473yahoo-style-wrap" dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;">
2. <b>Did the dogs assume the Sprinkler guys were virus-carrying miscreants or otherwise deadly criminals who were intent on killing everyone in the vicinity and were thus forced to run around the house barking a loud warning for the ENTIRE TIME THE GUYS WERE HERE?</b></div>
<div class="ydpe2a43b7dyiv3746063473yahoo-style-wrap" dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;">
Yes.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="ydpe2a43b7dyiv3746063473yahoo-style-wrap" dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;">
3.<b> Are these same dogs fazed by threats of violence and/or loudly shouted profanity?</b></div>
<div class="ydpe2a43b7dyiv3746063473yahoo-style-wrap" dir="ltr" style="font-family: "Helvetica Neue", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal;">
No, definitely not.</div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br /></div>
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4. <b>Did the Sprinkler guys hear the screamed profanity and assume the woman inside the house was having a nervous breakdown?</b></div>
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Unclear - they certainly didn't burst in to see if the woman was all right....though, to be fair, might be because they are from a Christian company known as the Living Water and it's possible they heard and were just too horrified to react.</div>
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5.<b> Did the cat take advantage of all this mayhem to see if he could actually leap from the top of the cat tree onto the lamp above the kitchen table and subsequently hang there like a naked spider monkey?</b></div>
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Not at first...but he made it on what I assume was his second try.</div>
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<br /></div>
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6.<b> Is the cat similarly unfazed by threats and profanity?</b></div>
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Based on the fact that he not only strutted around the house proudly but also proceeded to jump on the table and leap at the lamp from a variety of different angles, I think I can say with certainty Yes, 1,000 times YES.</div>
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<br /></div>
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7. <b>Am I now considering Day Drinking as a valid life style choice?</b></div>
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Also, 1,000 times YES.</div>
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<br /></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg16yMm47hcH8qDEtVaSSa9kuHpaEs8K755RxFen1HQcl8SoKd0LR4PHNfsg9ds4B33EDVfscaLy_JkyAUpIAlA7C1oHBg1w72RTBwgjhapHp8A-Ak_CeOQ995RAP37Z-cCJ54wB_gHQ1k/s1600/Sassy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg16yMm47hcH8qDEtVaSSa9kuHpaEs8K755RxFen1HQcl8SoKd0LR4PHNfsg9ds4B33EDVfscaLy_JkyAUpIAlA7C1oHBg1w72RTBwgjhapHp8A-Ak_CeOQ995RAP37Z-cCJ54wB_gHQ1k/s200/Sassy.jpg" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">Don't let the innocent face fool<br />you - she's 9 pounds of fur-<br />covered steel!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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8. <b>Did the bunny who lives under our deck decide to scamper across the deck in an enticing fashion seconds before I finally was able to let the dogs out back and then run under the steps leading to a short hysterical chase in which 2 dogs crashed into each other and rolled off the deck in a flailing tangle of hysterical barking, snarling, and flailing paws?</b></div>
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Yes.</div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br /></div>
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9. <b>Can either dog fit underneath the deck to attack said bunny?</b></div>
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Bubba - no, though he gave it the old college try. Sassy - probably could but was unceremoniously dragged away by her harness as she was wriggling her way underneath then was carried into the house in disgrace.</div>
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10. <b>Did either dog exhibit remorse for their crazed bunny-chasing behavior or did they subsequently see the mail person approaching the house with a package and decide that she, too, had nefarious motives and needed to be scared away and therefore positioned themselves at the front windows, barking the bark of hounds that have killed a mail woman for less?</b></div>
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The latter.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEscXwMPJsGAkEhfUgW9MLwWiHaPN3coh32Q-6HtHMe6kV233_cZdKBhr5X3l_KHoU8iH09GbVDN6HlWsiPrFMhL2GRiIMLVoTJ18sNqSnVp9r9gNtzk1Fs7ICCZkQX12bxG3NFcyY8yo/s1600/Pip+Blinds.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1404" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEscXwMPJsGAkEhfUgW9MLwWiHaPN3coh32Q-6HtHMe6kV233_cZdKBhr5X3l_KHoU8iH09GbVDN6HlWsiPrFMhL2GRiIMLVoTJ18sNqSnVp9r9gNtzk1Fs7ICCZkQX12bxG3NFcyY8yo/s200/Pip+Blinds.jpg" width="175" /></a>11.<b> Did the cat take advantage of this new mayhem to see if he could use the blinds as a ladder only to tumble down to the floor where he pretended that this was all part of some kitty calisthenics routine and totally on purpose?</b></div>
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Yes, but never fear, he wasn't hurt...as evidenced by the fact that when I ran over to see if he was hurt, he dashed past me, jumped up on counter and stuck his face in my coffee. Getting caffeinated, I assume, for his afternoon workout.</div>
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12. <b>Did I fortify myself with a glass of wine after all this drama?</b></div>
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Sadly, no, but only because I had to work.</div>
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So, in summary, our dogs are as crazy as ever, our cat either has a future as a daredevil or has a death wish and I'm beginning to worry that we don't have enough wine to make it through lock down. And we might need a new kitchen lamp soon as I'm pretty sure it wasn't designed to hold the weight of a leaping cat.</div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br /></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br /></div>
<div class="fb-like" data-href="https://kimbo325.blogspot.com/2020/04/lock-down-and-looney-animals.html" data-width="" data-layout="standard" data-action="like" data-size="small" data-share="true"></div>It Is Interesting To Notehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00970970839897478501noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166725385168948475.post-70067139393053440442020-03-20T12:30:00.001-06:002020-03-20T12:32:46.728-06:00The Peanut Butter Battle of 2020<div id="fb-root">
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In case you’re wondering how my life has been going in the last few months, I think you can get a feel for it when I share this important information with you: If a woman is standing on one side
of the kitchen, filling her water bottle at the refrigerator and a slightly spoiled kitten is
sitting on top of an enormous cat tree on the other side of the kitchen and
there is a plate of scrambled eggs on the bar between them…the kitty will
ABSOLUTELY get to the scrambled eggs first.<o:p></o:p></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfrL789crlToWxSz4u9-koOmFjthgE4YMCu9RVeD7APY1DtWFAPkz_5HXhefhY39s4Tm6WyjAYdSSAkaokOgfqgPfVxGqxITfYajzneGhCfuabggX7zO6pwDdZy6QAjECFSbyd8JNdzpo/s1600/Pip+cat+tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfrL789crlToWxSz4u9-koOmFjthgE4YMCu9RVeD7APY1DtWFAPkz_5HXhefhY39s4Tm6WyjAYdSSAkaokOgfqgPfVxGqxITfYajzneGhCfuabggX7zO6pwDdZy6QAjECFSbyd8JNdzpo/s320/Pip+cat+tree.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lurking on the cat tree, ready to strike.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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He will also exhibit NO remorse in spite of shouted recriminations
and threats of violence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He will,
instead, grab a mouthful of eggs, knock most of the rest of the eggs to the
floor as a diversionary tactic, then make a run for it, swallowing what he could but essentially dripping chunks of eggs far and wide throughout
the house.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I suspect the cat in question may be in cahoots with the equally spoiled dogs who live here because instead of helping, they ran around, barking joyously, and devouring eggs
with reckless abandon.<o:p></o:p></div>
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They maintain that they were just helping me clean up like
responsible canine companions but, I’m sorry to report, these dogs are lying
liars.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Then, as if that wasn’t enough drama for one day, we also
had a little catastrophe I like to call the Peanut Butter Battle of 2020. </div>
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</div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1O0GLeZIwgIKN1q0LeFPljl2Sa2s6Um29-_A9KIUmDDyHhf7ZTc4gN_b77iAcVd7cj48OExJjy5G0PZgIF371w_0oau1SPnKdhS74FVin0hY4A9pNk6xKMal2vumS7ZYlldxVp9KPBqs/s1600/PB.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1O0GLeZIwgIKN1q0LeFPljl2Sa2s6Um29-_A9KIUmDDyHhf7ZTc4gN_b77iAcVd7cj48OExJjy5G0PZgIF371w_0oau1SPnKdhS74FVin0hY4A9pNk6xKMal2vumS7ZYlldxVp9KPBqs/s320/PB.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sharing peanut butter on calmer days</td></tr>
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Right now both dogs, in their quest to be the most expensive animals ever to draw breath, are being treated for different non-life threatening issues. Which means that, after the unfortunate egg event, I still had to give them both their medicine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I did what I always do:
put the pills in a little bit of peanut butter and let them gobble it off my
fingers. But Bub was worn out from his wild egg-devouring dash around the
downstairs and had flopped down on the couch, too exhausted to move. So I gave
Sassy hers first, then walked over to the couch to give Bub his…blithely
unaware that the cat had sneaked back into the living room and was lurking on
the other side of the couch like a Peanut Butter Bandit. </div>
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As I reached down to
give Bub his pills, the aforementioned cat jumped up like a Ninja, paws flailing, trying to get
his claws on the peanut butter.<o:p></o:p></div>
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He later claimed that he was afraid I was poisoning Bub and
was simply trying to rescue him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But this cat, unfortunately, is also a lying liar.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In any case, he smacked at the peanut butter at the exact
same moment that Bub was reaching his mouth out to eat it…basically, what I’m
saying here is that worlds collided and peanut butter coated pills went flying across
the room.<o:p></o:p></div>
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At this point Bubba, with the energy of a dog who is
imagining a Peanut Butter Bandit absconding with his treat, jumped off the
couch and lunged for it. Sassy, with the zeal of a dog who wants every treat
ever invented, also lunged for it. The cat, still allegedly attempting heroic
poison salvation, lunged for it. <o:p></o:p></div>
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And in the middle of all this mess was one slightly hysterical
woman, terrified that the wrong animal was going to swallow the medicine, screaming
every curse word she’s ever heard and shoving away any paw or snout in her
immediate vicinity.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Yes, as a matter of fact, that woman WAS me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And, by some crazy miracle, I prevailed. I got everyone
separated, got the pills before the wrong animal ate them, and managed to get
them in Bub’s mouth.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWQr0OuVR8KtkeJGc0XfcT5rVbEEit6HXLq7LniKMKg1wpJN4tl8qCTzy2xI10OpcpGokvEHafNQMak7dlaYIgo3zxSu7KFAFcVAWE_8SEuM5bKtvUgLA830jmiBVc3VVqaWlLveLYTWk/s1600/Pip+claws.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1331" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWQr0OuVR8KtkeJGc0XfcT5rVbEEit6HXLq7LniKMKg1wpJN4tl8qCTzy2xI10OpcpGokvEHafNQMak7dlaYIgo3zxSu7KFAFcVAWE_8SEuM5bKtvUgLA830jmiBVc3VVqaWlLveLYTWk/s200/Pip+claws.jpg" width="166" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I guess I should be glad he got<br />
the peanut butter off his paws but<br />
I'm kind of afraid what he's <br />
planning next</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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At which point, the completely remorseless cat, stomped
off in a rage to the top of the cat tree, leaving little peanut butter pawprints
all over the floor in his wake.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Where are we now, you might be wondering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, Bubba has essentially collapsed from
excitement and is in such a deep sleep it’s entirely possible he won’t wake up
until dinner.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Sassy is suspicious that everyone else has somehow had more
peanut butter than she did and is sulking under the bed.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Pipsqueak Meow is modeling extreme social distancing and is
sitting on the cat tree, triumphantly licking peanut butter from his paws.</div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
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As for me, I’m wondering if it’s too early to start drinking.</div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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For other stories of Pipsqueak Meow's crazy adventures, you can follow him on Instagram at pipsqueak_meow or on Twitter <a href="https://twitter.com/MeowPipsqueak" target="_blank">@MeowPipsqueak</a> or check out some of the links below</div>
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<a href="https://kimbo325.blogspot.com/2019/10/curiosity-killed-cat.html" target="_blank">Curiosity</a></div>
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<a href="https://kimbo325.blogspot.com/2019/10/national-cat-day.html" target="_blank">National Cat Day</a></div>
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<br />It Is Interesting To Notehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00970970839897478501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166725385168948475.post-69745776992675094572019-10-29T16:39:00.000-06:002019-10-30T08:57:57.747-06:00National Cat Day<div id="fb-root">
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Today is National Cat Day and in honor of that I thought I'd share a valuable lesson about the difference between dogs and cats that I recently learned.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7SgN_8XOpgNjFUP4ipn5872BNy7LELV3VwO3aY9gEgZOmyvFVm6gPl0szySWhqcOu7HfG6sB2IvEkG943fFMPI59xdxWVZ2YsShK57W95wxsKn7RZUsu1BvlUAAQjaepmoJhwssn9-Hw/s1600/Pip+close+up+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1007" data-original-width="1600" height="125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7SgN_8XOpgNjFUP4ipn5872BNy7LELV3VwO3aY9gEgZOmyvFVm6gPl0szySWhqcOu7HfG6sB2IvEkG943fFMPI59xdxWVZ2YsShK57W95wxsKn7RZUsu1BvlUAAQjaepmoJhwssn9-Hw/s200/Pip+close+up+%25282%2529.jpg" width="200" /></a>Here's what happened:</div>
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I went out of town for a few days last week to watch my nephew play football and visit with my family.</div>
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However, the animals had very different reactions to my return home. I walked in the door and the dogs went, in a word, bonkers. They were running around, jumping up and down and barking out a veritable litany of joy. Which, thanks to my amazing animal communication skills, I can translate here:</div>
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"You're home! You're home! You're home!" Bubba shouted. "You left and then you came back and this is the most exciting thing that has ever happened to any dog EVER!"</div>
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"You're home!" Sassy agreed. "You're home and we should celebrate! With treats! And belly rubs! TREATS AND BELLY RUBS FOR EVERYONE!"</div>
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Pipsqueak Meow, though, was much more restrained. He meandered over to see what all the fuss was about then deliberately turned his back and sauntered into the bedroom. "I didn't even realize you were gone," he said.</div>
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He continued to ignore me for the rest of the afternoon, until we sat down to watch a little television. Then he ran out, flung himself on Opie and began a litany of his own.</div>
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"Do you know who I love? THIS GUY! I love him with a love that's more than love! I love sitting on his lap, I love rubbing against his face. I love him! And you know why? Because he never leaves, that's why."</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dyxoiauCn25onCPE_Nno8ElL28WgP7c_xtWvgkYWp-fFQWvdA-1kaHrWyqZdXC_vk1l8EeExq1X0hfF5MCzPA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>"He leaves to go to work every day," I pointed out.</div>
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But Pipsqueak Meow is the Earl Landgrene of cats: He doesn't want anyone to confuse him with the facts.</div>
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"I love him," he continued. "He is not a leaver. He is not an abandoner of kitties. He doesn't disappear without permission or explanation for days at a time. He stays where he is supposed to be and I LOVE HIM FOR IT!"</div>
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"I thought you didn't even realize I was gone."</div>
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"NO ONE'S TALKING TO YOU, FOOD LADY!" He yelled.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3C6_dvHKho3cemoGKWc2cm0ApemDy6WKHhDlTtjDfYgphB3TsAC1ArlL-eTSVVOjt-O7pLAprhSqk__p8oNGWOWmRUeqXdYnOkLxxzx45cpv_2chzcUg0nQaHAdm1Xqm6DPqjA61Oa1U/s1600/Over+the+shoulder+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1210" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3C6_dvHKho3cemoGKWc2cm0ApemDy6WKHhDlTtjDfYgphB3TsAC1ArlL-eTSVVOjt-O7pLAprhSqk__p8oNGWOWmRUeqXdYnOkLxxzx45cpv_2chzcUg0nQaHAdm1Xqm6DPqjA61Oa1U/s200/Over+the+shoulder+2.jpg" width="151" /></a>For the rest of the night, he would take occasional breaks from showering Opie with love to come over and sit near me on the couch but I'm pretty sure that was just so he could continue to give me "the cold paw." By which I mean he would sit a few feet away, close enough that I could pet him but no so close that anyone would confuse what was happening with kitty cuddling.</div>
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But he saved the big guns until two in the morning when he decided to once again illustrate his displeasure by deliberately stomping across my face.</div>
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"Oh, so sorry," he said when I jerked awake and shoved him off. "I didn't realize anyone was using this pillow; it's been empty for days."</div>
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"Get off me, you ridiculous cat!"</div>
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"Question: are you at all interested in seeing a trick I learned in the last few days?"</div>
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"Does the trick involve SLEEPING? Because it's TWO IN THE MORNING!"</div>
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And he allowed that the trick would, in fact, work better if I was sleeping. "Just relax," he said soothingly, jumping off the bed. "Close your eyes...Pay no attention to the cat on the floor...Pay not attention to the cat under the bed."</div>
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This must have lulled me into a sense of false security and (or maybe just because it was TWO IN THE MORNING!!) I started to fall back asleep.</div>
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Which is when Pipsqueak bellycrawled to the foot of the bed like a Ninja kitty, clawed his way up the bedskirt, managed to wriggle under the cover and POUNCED on my feet in whirlwind of claws, teeth and ferocious meows.</div>
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What followed was a similar whirlwind of shouts, cursing, sprays of water and flung blankets...and more Ninja kitty moves as he flung himself off the bed and raced over to the top of the dog crate in the corner.</div>
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"I don't suppose you'd believe there was a monster under the covers?" Pip asked.</div>
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"You are a lying liar of a cat!"</div>
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"I saved your life."</div>
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"You're a ridiculous, lying liar of a cat and if you ever do that again, I'm going to freaking lose it, do you understand me?"</div>
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"You're welcome."</div>
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Still muttering angrily, I flopped back down and tried to go back to sleep, bracing myself for another onslaught of feline foolishness. But, as always, he seemed to sense my breaking point. He trotted back over, jumped into bed and snuggled next to Sassy and me, purring contentedly.</div>
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"Just promise you'll never leave again," he said.</div>
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And I still don't know how to break it to him that we're going on vacation soon!</div>
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It Is Interesting To Notehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00970970839897478501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166725385168948475.post-84728094280503874522019-10-22T15:09:00.000-06:002019-10-22T15:11:49.752-06:00I Love The Word Bacchanal<div id="fb-root">
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<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Now that all the drama
of Skin Cancer Recovery has died down, you all will be pleased to know that the
drama of my everyday life has perked back up…and not just because we got our
ridiculous cat. Mostly because weird things seem to happen to me in locations
that shouldn’t be weird.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">For example, you would
think one place that would be somewhat drama-free would be the gym.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">It is interesting to
note that, if you did think this, you were horribly wrong.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">The gym SHOULD be a
drama free sanctuary where you can exercise and feel good about your dedication
to physical fitness…even if the fruits of that dedication are noticeably and
constantly sabotaged by your equal devotion to chocolate and wine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">And, to be honest, the
gym itself and the pool where I swim laps usually is a sweet nest of serenity.
It’s the gym locker room that presents difficulties. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Because the gym locker
room is filled with women, of all ages and sizes, who clearly don’t share my
body image issues.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">By which I mean they
prance around the locker room as bare-assed naked as nymphs at a Bacchanal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOki4OnKsytELDDCLGXjmmMpPRZDUD29lJTzEHqLcbNPuxn9YN1SxIO2cfC88g_ohR8ZV5CN1TL3Ogj817D9mLYdD138unwBiXE1ABf5kgKoKhdEiKhKQkBwmJ0Oz7Lq3Nuov8AiGgDp8/s1600/Nymphs.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="482" data-original-width="388" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOki4OnKsytELDDCLGXjmmMpPRZDUD29lJTzEHqLcbNPuxn9YN1SxIO2cfC88g_ohR8ZV5CN1TL3Ogj817D9mLYdD138unwBiXE1ABf5kgKoKhdEiKhKQkBwmJ0Oz7Lq3Nuov8AiGgDp8/s200/Nymphs.JPG" width="160" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Actual footage of my<br />
gym locker room.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">I, on the other hand,
do NOT prance around the locker room in this fashion. After swimming, I wrap my
body and my hair in two separate towels, put on my cover up and wander into the
locker room steadfastly averting my gaze from the sea of naked surrounding me
and assaulting my eyes at every turn. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Today, though, as I
made my way to my locker, stepping between 2 ladies older than my mom, got my
stuff out, and began heading back to the shower area, I dropped a flip flop.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Doesn't seem like that
big of a deal, does it?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">All I did was drop a
flip flop.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">But as I leaned down
to pick it up, one of the ladies took a misstep, half-tripped, took 2 or 3
steps back and basically STUCK HER BUTT IN MY FACE! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">That's right, there I
was in the locker room, BARE ASS flying at my face...and I would have been
fully BUTT-FACED, except, of course, months of protecting my nose from injury
have given me my ninja skills and cat-like quickness. I flung
myself--especially my FACE--out of the direction of her descending derriere,
which made me body-slam myself into the other older lady like Kelly Chase in
his glory days (she had managed to get some underwear on by then, thank God),
and somehow flop down onto the bench between us. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">And did the Butt-Facer
apologize?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">NO!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">She was too busy
fussing over the other woman that I crashed into...like this whole mess
was MY fault, like I should have just let myself be ASSaulted (see what I did
there?) without a care in the world.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">I may never get over
it. I'll have nightmares about butt-facing for years. I might need therapy...or
at least lots of wine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">In any case, the point
of this story is, my life is as dramatic as it ever was, my ninja skills are
top shelf, and if any of you are planning to join a gym in order to get a jump
on a New Year’s Resolution, BE CAREFUL WHERE YOU PUT YOUR FACE.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<div class="fb-like" data-action="like" data-href="https://kimbo325.blogspot.com/2019/10/i-love-word-bacchanal.html" data-layout="standard" data-share="true" data-show-faces="true" data-size="small" data-width="">
</div>
<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: #1d2228; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: xx-small;">(PS: Because I like to give credit where credit is due, I want to note that the painting above is by French artist Jean-Baptiste Marie Pierre.)</span></div>
<br />It Is Interesting To Notehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00970970839897478501noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166725385168948475.post-52556876858870624282019-10-10T20:12:00.001-06:002019-10-10T20:15:01.769-06:00Curiosity Killed The Cat<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Curiosity killed the
cat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPdghiAQHFdFUMAfzy7MRtBsuQ30c5x7jg5ohGn-rqpUmh6_gu0FBzRXejvpgrHfrtUogr_muzLxZahOiXL0YGSj2FceoIep7Z7Q9uakjmjpBCHwkgK_t91NOGOyAmsk8xxltk8v-XyGA/s1600/Pip.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPdghiAQHFdFUMAfzy7MRtBsuQ30c5x7jg5ohGn-rqpUmh6_gu0FBzRXejvpgrHfrtUogr_muzLxZahOiXL0YGSj2FceoIep7Z7Q9uakjmjpBCHwkgK_t91NOGOyAmsk8xxltk8v-XyGA/s320/Pip.jpg" width="213" /></a><span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">No this is not a horribly
tragic blog explaining that Pipsqueak Meow has been killed in some bizarre
accident. He’s alive and well.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">For now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">To be blunt, I can’t
swear there will never be a horribly tragic blog explaining that Pipsqueak Meow
has met an untimely end because it’s entirely possible curiosity will, in fact,
kill this cat.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">I don’t know if it’s
because I work at home now and the last time I had a kitten, the unforgettable
Princeton P Kitty, I was out of the house during the day so I didn’t witness all
the crazy shenanigans going on or if (as I’m beginning to suspect) this cat is
trying to send me over the edge.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Our day usually starts
with usual cat behavior – he tries to stick his face in my coffee, he flings
himself all over the bed while I’m making it, he insists he should be able to
eat the dogs’ food…all completely normal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">But then the curiosity kicks
in and that’s when things start to go downhill.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Like today when I tried to get a few things done before I started work
and our conversation went like this:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Pip: Have you ever
wondered what would happen if you jumped on the robo-vacuum while it’s zooming
around in a very enticing fashion?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">(It is interesting to
note that I don’t actually believe the cat talks to me, I’m not a complete
whack job…but I’m pretty sure I can read his little mind).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Me: What are you doing?!
Stop that, stop it right now!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Pip: Don’t mind me, I’m
just performing a little experiment. I want to see what happens when you POUNCE
like THIS on the vacuum!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">I rescue the vacuum, distract
the cat with a toy and try to continue my morning routine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At which time he turns into a toddler…a
toddler with a thousand questions and claws.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh57KG6kzcSpN62FdgLk63dnrIYPbWnlY6lRXbbL-jE8SdcMLu93mJ6ax8djrV6KsmpZfLio_KcShjGFcnTIaSSnLV6OTMFtSNyA5Bb4rRqrGqwBnpgqQd5FyJ1tUdcVpZfb-tPuurRzac/s1600/IMG_4233.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1418" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh57KG6kzcSpN62FdgLk63dnrIYPbWnlY6lRXbbL-jE8SdcMLu93mJ6ax8djrV6KsmpZfLio_KcShjGFcnTIaSSnLV6OTMFtSNyA5Bb4rRqrGqwBnpgqQd5FyJ1tUdcVpZfb-tPuurRzac/s200/IMG_4233.jpg" width="176" /></a><span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Pip: What’s that? Is it
coffee? I like coffee! Can I have some coffee, can I , can I? Hey, did you know
your sweatshirt has a string on it? Did you know your sweatshirt has a string
on it? Did you know your sweatshirt has a string on it? I like strings! Strings
taste awesome! Did you know your sweatshirt has a string on it? Where did the
coffee go? What are you doing now? Putting things in dishwasher? Do you need
help? Did you get food off the plates? Do you want me to jump in the dishwasher
and make sure? Hey, what about that coffee?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim_xq9pcB_CyR5VhFdbj4vPcwm_5iH7wdPxfih7_pSUZoQVh4GSJ1KHKcyKERf7DixuCueasrQI1rTe5HWHnmA_lzloqPU38mthlLZBnYrqRNkGib-xM9-jwCmwzGZ1ooKpAXLT3nh1Cc/s1600/IMG_4837.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEim_xq9pcB_CyR5VhFdbj4vPcwm_5iH7wdPxfih7_pSUZoQVh4GSJ1KHKcyKERf7DixuCueasrQI1rTe5HWHnmA_lzloqPU38mthlLZBnYrqRNkGib-xM9-jwCmwzGZ1ooKpAXLT3nh1Cc/s200/IMG_4837.jpg" width="149" /></a><span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">At this point, I guzzle
coffee with reckless abandon, certain that caffeine is the only thing keeping
me sane.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">A few hours later, while
I’m fixing myself lunch, Pip starts up again: You know that dog you got me, the
big one?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Me: He is NOT your dog,
he’s been living here longer than you have—<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Pip: The big one, the
one I named The Bub. Do you think I’m faster than he is?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Me: Pip! Leave The Bub
alone!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Pip: I bet I’m faster
than he is. We should race.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">ME: LEAVE THE BUB ALONE!!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Pip runs over and challenges
Bubba to a race…by which I mean he bit Bubba on the tail and ran to the top of
the cat tree as fast as he could.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMPca2A-fQ-o19Qrb3-4jasAfnYbKWH9mzdn2RXKRgNIHcaj_fagzBvZg0S5wRgjbjrrk-vlbCBqGAPfEukbMXQbmGRpkYCPcEMDrta0TLHLOy8VzL6j7uC6eU8LOmK6XXwM7vmIbsjnI/s1600/IMG_4840.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMPca2A-fQ-o19Qrb3-4jasAfnYbKWH9mzdn2RXKRgNIHcaj_fagzBvZg0S5wRgjbjrrk-vlbCBqGAPfEukbMXQbmGRpkYCPcEMDrta0TLHLOy8VzL6j7uC6eU8LOmK6XXwM7vmIbsjnI/s200/IMG_4840.JPG" width="150" /></a><span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Bubba, who is incredibly
patient with this small obnoxious animal, barks once and moves to a different
doggy bed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Pip: Well, I’m definitely
a faster sprinter than he is. But I wonder how we’d do in a longer challenge…like
a race all around the house. I wonder how many times I need to bite him on the
tail to get him to actually chase me a little.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">ME (punctuating each
word with profanity too offensive to post here): GET AWAY FROM BUBBA! I WILL
LET HIM BITE YOU, I MEAN IT!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Pip (slinking ever
closer): You don’t understand. I don’t WANT to bite him on the tail, I’m just doing
a little research into canine psychology. I need to see what happens when you jump
on a dog’s tail like THIS!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">In case you’re wondering,
I have no idea who would have won the race around the house that started then
because I managed to snatch Pip up and – as the cat behavior books advise – put
him in the guest bathroom for a timeout to consider his many sins while I tried
to enjoy the last 10 minutes of my break.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSLN5P-xtqPden6jQfJOWanmA1Az4_Fgjs3paC9DUxxgFmTm6NzsZLCLb9mqSYbPiWE_lIRCZ_bQZxI_Jmv0CWqqZjZq4OgDm7cH3qqbAFOkP2SCSdsyzjPfhKbS0_ps98KmIRKKAiOAE/s1600/Pip+and+Sassy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSLN5P-xtqPden6jQfJOWanmA1Az4_Fgjs3paC9DUxxgFmTm6NzsZLCLb9mqSYbPiWE_lIRCZ_bQZxI_Jmv0CWqqZjZq4OgDm7cH3qqbAFOkP2SCSdsyzjPfhKbS0_ps98KmIRKKAiOAE/s200/Pip+and+Sassy.jpg" width="149" /></a><span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Unfortunately, the cat
behavior books fail to mention that some cats enjoy timeout because they can
pull the weird little cover off those bolts on the bottom of the toilet and bat
it around the small room like a soccer player.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">He did, at least, pretend
to be repentant…I let him out of the bathroom, he meows plaintively, rubs
against my legs, pretends to be adorable....then slowly starts slinking across
the couch toward Sassy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Pip: I just want to do a
little experiment—hey! What’s going on? Put me down, food lady, put me down!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">I dump him on top of the
cat tree and try again to finish </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">eating while he plays for almost five whole
seconds before running back over to jump on my lap.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Pip: Question: are you
at all interested in seeing how fast I can run up and down the stairs?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Me: No <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Pip: I’m pretty fast.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Me: I believe you, I don’t
need to--<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Pip leaps from my lap, runs
up the stairs at top speed, runs around office with the heavy footsteps of a
much larger cat, then runs back down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Pip: See? And that
wasn’t even my best time! I’m way faster than that!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Pip proceeds to run up
and down stairs three more times. I begin wondering aloud if someone slipped
illicit drugs in the kitty kibble.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Which is when Sassy
decides to butt in on the conversation: I’m pretty fast too—<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Pip: This fast?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Sassy: Maybe!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">And they both run up and
down the stairs at top speed. And Pip did win, though, to be fair, that’s partially
because he used Sassy as a springboard to fling himself in the air over her and
leap down the last three stairs in one fell swoop.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Sassy, furious at this
blatant foul, demands to be placated with treats while Pip struts around living
room, confident he has set the land speed record for five pound felines. And
not at all concerned that he has essentially cheated in this race.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Pip, jumping up next to
me: I told you I was fast.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Me: Yes, very
impressive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Pip You know how fast I
am? Fast enough to run across the countertop and stick my face in your soup LIKE
THIS before you can even grab the spray bottle!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">The next few seconds are
an incredible whirlwind of shouting, cursing, barking, meowing and spraying
water…some of which actually lands on the cat, though not enough to deter him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj59CqU_H0qPPGNrJ6RSATiVaxLz1hi0GD2p06k2ToryLYE14friJhYwYmhyZITHdoZ8ZmzX2HYWtlisKUBMtQjWVLoTzMPIf4xDjWaTzqkcfqQjt2qlFS9jNp1BCE0tIdlFEshXQbkGM/s1600/IMG_3938.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj59CqU_H0qPPGNrJ6RSATiVaxLz1hi0GD2p06k2ToryLYE14friJhYwYmhyZITHdoZ8ZmzX2HYWtlisKUBMtQjWVLoTzMPIf4xDjWaTzqkcfqQjt2qlFS9jNp1BCE0tIdlFEshXQbkGM/s200/IMG_3938.JPG" width="150" /></a><span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">He proceeds to run
around the house again, leaps up on the dining room table into the box that was
just delivered, insists he’s not technically on the table if he’s in the box,
jumps back out of the box, runs back into the bedroom and slides under the bed
like a baseball player stealing home.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">I storm around angrily,
waving my hands in the air and shouting horrible threats in his general
direction…then finally sit down to start work again and he comes out, curls up
in my lap and promptly falls asleep.</span></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; font-size: 10.0pt;">Which might be the only
reason he’s still alive.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<br /><div class="fb-like" data-href="https://kimbo325.blogspot.com/2019/10/curiosity-killed-cat.html" data-width="" data-layout="standard" data-action="like" data-size="small" data-show-faces="true" data-share="true"></div>It Is Interesting To Notehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00970970839897478501noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166725385168948475.post-18370907836986768842019-10-02T20:15:00.001-06:002019-10-02T20:39:33.156-06:00Another Mysterious Mystery<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3GPfeXzH6vvMNBhCqKzUtgKSwCdbQ14ONtW6trRT0Ce9Ex3maTEb_fn-UvpzV_oBITAOUYgg_UgmZ3mRLbT_1_1bm2OpALX_aTNiW_YoRNAQ3r-AXcdNhsLS67kqEeemvQG282Br5Tkw/s1600/Selfie+Joplin.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1076" data-original-width="528" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3GPfeXzH6vvMNBhCqKzUtgKSwCdbQ14ONtW6trRT0Ce9Ex3maTEb_fn-UvpzV_oBITAOUYgg_UgmZ3mRLbT_1_1bm2OpALX_aTNiW_YoRNAQ3r-AXcdNhsLS67kqEeemvQG282Br5Tkw/s320/Selfie+Joplin.jpg" width="157" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The annual selfie!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
As some of you may know, there’s a very mysterious mystery
that has been mystifying people in Joplin, MO since 1836 : The Ghost Lights!<br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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What are ghost lights?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Strange balls of light that appear suddenly upon a darkened highway
known as The Devil’s Promenade bounce around and just as suddenly disappear.<o:p></o:p></div>
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No one actually knows what the light is, where it comes from,
or—apparently—where they really show up because they’re called The Joplin Ghost
Lights but the road they appear on is actually just across the border in
Oklahoma.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Enough people have seen these lights over the years that the
Army Corps of Engineers actually came out to investigate. They couldn’t figure
out what the heck was going on, unless people were seeing the reflection of
lights from passing cars on a highway a few miles away.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Which just goes to show you that, although I have a great
deal of respect for the Army Corps of Engineers, they must not be careful
readers because, once again, the lights have been appearing since 1836.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Not a lot of cars bopping around in 1836.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Unless, now that I think of it, the Army Corps of Engineers was
trying to hint that there was some sort of weird TIME PORTAL that cars are driving
through…or getting caught in…getting caught in and endlessly traveling down The
Devil’s Promenade, trying to lure unsuspecting travelers to the same horrible fate…<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Kind of glad I didn’t come up with THAT theory while Eric
and I were driving The Devil’s Promenade last weekend or I might have
completely freaked out.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Because, yes, you guessed it, The Hadley – Yates Vacation
this year was Joplin, Missouri to investigate the mysterious mystery of the
ghost lights.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Though I have to be honest, the first mysterious mystery
that mystified us was the exact location of The Devil’s Promenade. Because, as
I’ve said before, Eric and I are not what you would call navigational geniuses.
And it might surprise you to know that these are not the type of locations easily
found on Google Maps. I’m also shocked to report that the kind of websites that
give you directions to ghost lights can be a little…well…can I say sketchy?<o:p></o:p></div>
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In fact on our first sojourn to The Devil’s Promenade Friday
night, our directions said we needed to follow Highway 86 for a
couple of miles to Highway BB then turn on Gum Road. And we never found Highway
86 or BB…though we did find Highway 43 which I reasoned was half of 86 and
therefore likely to take us to the same place.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I will now pause for my husband Opie, my mom, and other logically
minded folks to yell things like “Are you out of your damn minds?!”<o:p></o:p></div>
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And I won’t even gloat when I tell you that this plan
actually worked –we found Gum Road and Highway 51 and the alleged Devil’s Promenade
(also known as Spirit Light Road)<o:p></o:p></div>
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Did we find the Ghost Lights of Joplin?<o:p></o:p></div>
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I don’t know…we saw lots of lights. Some of which could have
been the reflection of car lights on another highway a few miles away, some
that could have been radio towers in the distance, a couple that could have
been enormous mutant fireflies (Or Fireflies of Unusual Size if you’re a Princess
Bride fan) but we didn’t see anything that could definitively been called ghost
lights. <o:p></o:p></div>
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I can tell you that we were chagrined (mostly because I like
the word chagrin and try to use it whenever I can) but not defeated. We went
back to Joplin, where we were staying at the same garage apartment Bonnie and
Clyde hid out for several weeks in 1933 and were immediately mystified with
another mysterious mystery. Specifically, what is the name of this piece of
furniture:</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9JMQy2_I3uwIvgXTyiHhEI9mJSPcb16slx-53fx3t-M4L1JkeNOkr7DlyRoz3hbeaDbjuvrWhvwyUX1yu-WSRCiXtrfee-_S1wgKU83f-IVLYxBnO5m8Jzj5uD6QXWZ38wWYbq0gznoM/s1600/IMG_4512.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9JMQy2_I3uwIvgXTyiHhEI9mJSPcb16slx-53fx3t-M4L1JkeNOkr7DlyRoz3hbeaDbjuvrWhvwyUX1yu-WSRCiXtrfee-_S1wgKU83f-IVLYxBnO5m8Jzj5uD6QXWZ38wWYbq0gznoM/s200/IMG_4512.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
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Is it a divan (that was my guess…but, again, mostly because I
like the word divan)? Is it a chaise lounge (that was Eric’s guess…and, though
he wouldn’t admit it, I suspect he just likes the word chaise)? After a lot of
Internet research (and, to be honest, a lot of wine) we were actually more mystified
as it could also be a Davenport, a settee, or even a Chesterfield.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Anyone know?? It’s seriously sending me right over the edge.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In any case, Eric and I are not the kind of investigators
who let these kind of things distract us. We are the kind of investigators who
go to the Joplin Museum Complex to do more research, find this rather sad
display:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p> <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBeGMDjILYOzHuA-qwbvG3Ux_41nz7ZFEC74DW3UDfteDbBWbSL8etN5bryWCzw5FRyeV1xkXkc_dIB3HrRnomwciZm97eysZXLem4nIqiwpfIVnyNGLjZ1sG4LdAF9xG0Awk4jYiGCrY/s1600/IMG_4529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBeGMDjILYOzHuA-qwbvG3Ux_41nz7ZFEC74DW3UDfteDbBWbSL8etN5bryWCzw5FRyeV1xkXkc_dIB3HrRnomwciZm97eysZXLem4nIqiwpfIVnyNGLjZ1sG4LdAF9xG0Awk4jYiGCrY/s200/IMG_4529.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seriously, this was in an actual MUSEUM.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</o:p></div>
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and then get distracted by one of the most random collections of alleged artifacts I’ve ever seen. Like the creepy china doll collection…or
the circus collection of things from circuses in other cities…or the Cookie Cutter
Collection...like I said, random.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWPZohda9HN-Q8RPcDGJJ5eywVbbpMJZoZXt0-gLXcfAFHhnCTKm_VSBsmzfrKY7r6UG5zSwbl1Rl_nxoU4BK9eglt49G-KpCZUmo3vmmFVCtoRrzvyhwoiqpIUPAdBr0ODmk3IN_cVxw/s1600/IMG_4537.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWPZohda9HN-Q8RPcDGJJ5eywVbbpMJZoZXt0-gLXcfAFHhnCTKm_VSBsmzfrKY7r6UG5zSwbl1Rl_nxoU4BK9eglt49G-KpCZUmo3vmmFVCtoRrzvyhwoiqpIUPAdBr0ODmk3IN_cVxw/s200/IMG_4537.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Got this little gem FREE at the National <br />
Cookie Cutter Museum -- vintage clown! Jealous, aren't you?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMzvEZ7gyC4NvhUKBIqCwHoGodD-kfISguJyadUyKiscXSLAof4LNJx5UnDLWCxqC5FeWmxnfTFggxCuy1GJpqLFb06rx1mhA1As4inEpxjryAZctuJAkyUqkGnyw5GJSIObLF75cj6P4/s1600/IMG_4525.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="display: inline !important; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMzvEZ7gyC4NvhUKBIqCwHoGodD-kfISguJyadUyKiscXSLAof4LNJx5UnDLWCxqC5FeWmxnfTFggxCuy1GJpqLFb06rx1mhA1As4inEpxjryAZctuJAkyUqkGnyw5GJSIObLF75cj6P4/s200/IMG_4525.JPG" width="150" /></a><br />
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We’re also the kind of investigators who get distracted by
the fact that we are somewhat near the exact spot where Missouri, Kansas, and
Oklahoma intersect and we could go there and—after a literal TWO HOUR search—drink
a toast to 20 years of vacations in THREE STATES AT ONCE. I won’t bore you with all the details of this
epic journey, I’ll just say it involved a few of signs like this one,<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVMfO-H4v4QhrEyb6rSdiSuPG-Zt7T4tFCMbw8QiiRPmAoZKpEuwUdXCsGOTSbmHgFNPDv5aKvhSyumZooaJLbHFXB3sFJfbrqobLL4Fl-smd6T267fCckM7rHHuVYMMzyEmyp7zl-oQE/s1600/IMG_4522.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVMfO-H4v4QhrEyb6rSdiSuPG-Zt7T4tFCMbw8QiiRPmAoZKpEuwUdXCsGOTSbmHgFNPDv5aKvhSyumZooaJLbHFXB3sFJfbrqobLL4Fl-smd6T267fCckM7rHHuVYMMzyEmyp7zl-oQE/s200/IMG_4522.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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more than a little swearing and a few shouts of things like “We’re
off the map, how in hell did we get off the map?!” and “Are you freaking kidding
me, are we back in Oklahoma?” It also involved a few selfies where we laughed like
little kids about being in separate states even though we were in the same car,</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuPuQ4Sa_FC7O6qs9TvA13WME_18hLpa-nVk2ACEy55SUShzbkce2k6VL_6ZEYfFYlBn0YSYvx22GWMv1W-nOxblMiJsSytJflv5y2NjHZsm6OJLfOOMSIRcjqHx9WxqetwGlKBqGdkDs/s1600/IMG_4542.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuPuQ4Sa_FC7O6qs9TvA13WME_18hLpa-nVk2ACEy55SUShzbkce2k6VL_6ZEYfFYlBn0YSYvx22GWMv1W-nOxblMiJsSytJflv5y2NjHZsm6OJLfOOMSIRcjqHx9WxqetwGlKBqGdkDs/s200/IMG_4542.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm in Kansas and Eric's in Missouri!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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a teeny-tiny bit of what some people call trespassing but we prefer to think
of as exploring, and a slightly disconcerting trip down a gravel road just north of a buffalo preserve.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But we found it, that’s the point!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijNsllmARzMkEq6RHALqoLRDiThCB1wR1ip-W3ivO2kWCs9seM-VY6toG4rlxdX_UWmm630cZVaKh9UxrG7HplsH6hITddnCV4tATDEvHs7jQsWJ6zbFY6su4CVJWTU2U8GCaFYg3gxqM/s1600/IMG_4568.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1157" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEijNsllmARzMkEq6RHALqoLRDiThCB1wR1ip-W3ivO2kWCs9seM-VY6toG4rlxdX_UWmm630cZVaKh9UxrG7HplsH6hITddnCV4tATDEvHs7jQsWJ6zbFY6su4CVJWTU2U8GCaFYg3gxqM/s200/IMG_4568.jpg" width="144" /></a></div>
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Feeling suitably fortified by success, we decided to go back
to our hotel, fortify ourselves with more wine, then sleep until 11:00 and go
back out to The Devil’s Promenade.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And, for those of you who are shaking your heads and saying
things like “Remember when we were young and pre-partied at someone’s house and
didn’t even hit the bars until 11:00?” I would just like to remind you that in
our misspent youth, Eric and I actually used to go out to the bars really early
when you didn’t have to wait in line for a drink and we could OWN the dance
floor. When the rest of you people showed up, we started talking about going
home.<o:p></o:p></div>
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But I digress..<o:p></o:p></div>
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We set the alarm, stumbled around grumbling at each other
until we got our hands on some coffee, and drove back out.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Did we see the lights?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Again, I don’t know.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We saw SOMETHING.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And when we got
back and took a closer look at the pictures, we saw that we had one with what
could very well be a Ghost Light in the upper corner left hand corner…it’s not in the direction
of the other highway, it wasn’t a radio tower…we don’t know what it was.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzxqNzVOhOaRFf-0ZW_KZVpX10uIdyOiTJRd8O7asXtCa04EjAsgbnd36GGXsUyhKCsB70LrHlLqUpqR8Fdsr9NYblM2Sgng2mvse6udXCnQM7Gu5DeVTWRNCoLJ8-PSgg8W4UT6e8LpI/s1600/Inkedghost+lights_LI.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzxqNzVOhOaRFf-0ZW_KZVpX10uIdyOiTJRd8O7asXtCa04EjAsgbnd36GGXsUyhKCsB70LrHlLqUpqR8Fdsr9NYblM2Sgng2mvse6udXCnQM7Gu5DeVTWRNCoLJ8-PSgg8W4UT6e8LpI/s320/Inkedghost+lights_LI.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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So, we are still mystified by the mysterious mystery in Joplin,
we still don’t know the name of that weird piece of furniture, we still
struggle with basic directions but I think we have a pretty clear understanding
why neither of our spouses ever want to come on our annual trip!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />It Is Interesting To Notehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00970970839897478501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166725385168948475.post-11678432555605496202019-09-25T21:42:00.000-06:002019-09-25T21:44:03.347-06:00Vacation 2019 -- A Little Preview!<br />
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Well, summer has just officially faded into fall and I bet
that means the same question just popped into everyone’s minds: How come I
haven’t heard anything about Eric and Kimberly’s annual vacation?<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRkAlXVVRoR4U1iQbDqLJr0E-_mAC88L-DIzijx6G7cSTbqeawx-7OSwjm_Sq0Icp762l3KNTniywhGhBiNLRuKZAwFnxupTdHd_zd96QjJdy5_umrB6gPqNUCxmFXyAdQ88X7v1B9ZOA/s1600/IMG_6358.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="681" data-original-width="633" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRkAlXVVRoR4U1iQbDqLJr0E-_mAC88L-DIzijx6G7cSTbqeawx-7OSwjm_Sq0Icp762l3KNTniywhGhBiNLRuKZAwFnxupTdHd_zd96QjJdy5_umrB6gPqNUCxmFXyAdQ88X7v1B9ZOA/s200/IMG_6358.jpg" width="185" /></a></div>
Which means the next thought that popped into everyone’s
minds is “Wait, I don’t remember reading about their vacation LAST summer…or
the summer BEFORE THAT…FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, PLEASE DON’T TELL ME
THAT THEY’VE GIVEN UP THIS FABULOUS TRADITION OR—WORSE YET—I’VE MISSED THOSE
POSTS!!”</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Which further means that you’re all braced to start frantically
searching through this blog, desperately searching for the any sign of travel
tales.<o:p></o:p></div>
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(It is interesting to note that I might have an overblown
sense of my importance in your lives.)<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1xCRRRbxz3xZWUE9duQYaqwRnqlNpMleMww29nbhzNsKLy8Phz9DtYvS9G_qYV_iXNjTb_gdEAkl7QnuuaJR9BfCTf0oseTkdzhiyu8qUzsp3iDtSfIWDHhMxSAZSLz8Sh9t05vgroKE/s1600/IMG_6353.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1562" data-original-width="1386" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1xCRRRbxz3xZWUE9duQYaqwRnqlNpMleMww29nbhzNsKLy8Phz9DtYvS9G_qYV_iXNjTb_gdEAkl7QnuuaJR9BfCTf0oseTkdzhiyu8qUzsp3iDtSfIWDHhMxSAZSLz8Sh9t05vgroKE/s200/IMG_6353.jpg" width="176" /></a>In any case, fear not, Eric and I have not given up our
annual sojourn into the silly side of life. I, apparently, just haven’t been
writing about our trips. And I don’t have time to write about them all now but,
rest assured, they’ve been as nutty as ever!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For example, 2 years ago we made a return trip to Roswell, New Mexico
for the International UFO Festival. And while it was less dramatic than our
first trip there 15 years ago (when we might or might not have trespassed on
private government property), it was still chock full of crazy. We saw people
who were literally wearing tinfoil hats or fairy wings or both.<br />
<br />
We once again
spoke to The Alien Hunter (who told me my questions about alien abduction were,
and I quote EXCELLENT). We met Travis Walton (famous alleged alien abduction
victim). And, far best of all, we got to witness a rather heated diatribe by a
woman who was furious that the Convention wasn’t giving more attention to the
Reptoid Plot of World Domination.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Reptoids, for those of you who don’t vacation with UFO
enthusiasts, are an ancient alien race of reptiles that are able to shapeshift
into human forms and have infiltrated every powerful family in the WORLD. They are
here to take over the Earth—and possibly the entire universe—because they enjoy
feeding on and breeding with humans.<o:p></o:p></div>
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There’s a very complicated explanation involving the shadow
government, the Rockefellers, the British Royal Family and any number of US
celebrities but, according to the 2 books I bought dissecting this phenomenon, I
am one of the many “sheeple” of the world, too blind to understand the danger.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Good times, my fellow sheeple, good times.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My point is, yes we still take our trip every year. And,
although we didn’t go this summer, we’re going next weekend. Why so much later
than usual?<o:p></o:p></div>
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For three main reasons:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">1.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";"> </span></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Uhhh, have you been reading the blog? Skin
cancer and a new house, sheeple! I’ve been busy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">2.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->Our original destination – a ghost hunt at the
Missouri State Penitentiary in Jefferson City, MO – was hit by a tornado earlier
in the year and the event was cancelled.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="mso-bidi-font-family: Calibri; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-latin;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">3.<span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><!--[endif]-->There was a slight discrepancy between the vacation
weekend on MY calendar and the one marked on Eric’s.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I maintain that when Eric visited this summer to help with
the new house, we picked September 13<sup>th</sup> as the weekend and he just
doesn’t remember. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Eric maintains that we
talked about September 13<sup>th</sup> but landed on the 27<sup>th</sup> as a
better option and I just don’t remember…Opie maintains that Eric and I drink
too much when we’re making plans and he’s surprised anyone remembers anything.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQtiV-V9JlrEBMa9YZ4PlL_mw8SjhA15if87aIicQxIBCWtq61uCcNEm1WsA6E0cHb1paszqT_aQvOIhZoMeX3MonTWvByPoGjKtxTK1kQB8XfE3WxVM45_tu52mc-mfunPXc3qfvR7KI/s1600/IMG_6366.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQtiV-V9JlrEBMa9YZ4PlL_mw8SjhA15if87aIicQxIBCWtq61uCcNEm1WsA6E0cHb1paszqT_aQvOIhZoMeX3MonTWvByPoGjKtxTK1kQB8XfE3WxVM45_tu52mc-mfunPXc3qfvR7KI/s200/IMG_6366.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p></div>
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I’m pretty sure that’s his way of saying he’s on Team Kimbo and
just doesn’t want to hurt Eric’s feelings.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Luckily for Eric, I was able to rearrange my schedule because,
although one can search for the mysterious ghost lights that travel down an
abandoned highway known as The Devil’s Promenade pretty much any time one
wants, it’s harder to book a night in the garage apartment where Bonnie and Clyde
hid from the police than you might think.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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That’s just the tip of the iceberg for our weekend plans but
if history teaches us anything, I think we can expect a lot of laughs, a few
ghosts, and way too much alcohol.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I just hope we don’t run into any reptoids because the abovementioned
books were so confusing, I still have no idea how to fight them off.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br />
<br />
If you want to hear about some of our earlier vacations,
feel free to check out any of the links below:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://kimbo325.blogspot.com/2013/10/halloween-part-2-scariest-vacation-ever.html" target="_blank">Scariest Vacation – The Villisca, Iowa Axe Murder House</a><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://kimbo325.blogspot.com/2017/06/blast-from-past.html" target="_blank"><br /></a></div>
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<a href="https://kimbo325.blogspot.com/2017/06/blast-from-past.html" target="_blank">The First Trip to Roswell</a><o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://kimbo325.blogspot.com/2014/09/the-eldred-house.html" target="_blank"><br /></a></div>
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<a href="https://kimbo325.blogspot.com/2014/09/the-eldred-house.html" target="_blank">Why You Shouldn't Be Annoying When You're On A Ghost Hunt -- The Eldred House</a></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://kimbo325.blogspot.com/2010/08/murders-mysteries-and-other-mayhem.html" target="_blank">The Lizzie Borden Bed & Breakfast</a></div>
<br />
<a href="https://kimbo325.blogspot.com/2008/06/truth-justice-kimberly-and-gay.html" target="_blank">The Time We Literally Set a Guiness World Record</a><br />
<br />It Is Interesting To Notehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00970970839897478501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166725385168948475.post-10731514830062484362019-09-19T19:55:00.000-06:002019-09-19T19:59:46.449-06:006 Month Milestone<div id="fb-root">
</div>
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It's been a long 6 months of surgery, sock photos, more surgery, more sock photos, moving, more sock photos and even more sock photos. But I think it's time for a photo montage and big reveal!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZW_uLFrkjoCY7doq3ALq1fkRbK10lRba0cidLg1mqvCx40oXZxY17qOueE58pOlH-cnkJfYu1OnZ57TycCzx8iu-dPdB-XPiFTwfQkg7jDpY5XVflb8VsJfZx57zKIlKXdSvvt8pBjn8/s1600/Sock+collage.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZW_uLFrkjoCY7doq3ALq1fkRbK10lRba0cidLg1mqvCx40oXZxY17qOueE58pOlH-cnkJfYu1OnZ57TycCzx8iu-dPdB-XPiFTwfQkg7jDpY5XVflb8VsJfZx57zKIlKXdSvvt8pBjn8/s320/Sock+collage.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Before: </b></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm5TrvepfATaPsF6uTLXCUmxs1rNZm3aaqKBbCsmoUHjG0SxTN2YDd9-KdMuMokPI3m3WmFyzi2ASQFpejCN9pAUYvaARpXYO99NMpjb72TJMvcwsfB9kc6BspeDOwoRQz0MKFnTwh-JI/s1600/me+hwaii+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="764" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm5TrvepfATaPsF6uTLXCUmxs1rNZm3aaqKBbCsmoUHjG0SxTN2YDd9-KdMuMokPI3m3WmFyzi2ASQFpejCN9pAUYvaARpXYO99NMpjb72TJMvcwsfB9kc6BspeDOwoRQz0MKFnTwh-JI/s320/me+hwaii+%25282%2529.jpg" width="254" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>During:</b></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdm7D3YfXUHP2-KqxrMOu7XyUdJ_0LJxKQxhMy5c6ecL3Y0nJztkdOIfRLirVuvZGAFE_3vujFjKo4ReCnuzrkWgz9Bii49xCjet76S0WSPMXztc7jm6d-Cq7xw-AlPEI9H2yhKBeCnb0/s1600/IMG_1648.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdm7D3YfXUHP2-KqxrMOu7XyUdJ_0LJxKQxhMy5c6ecL3Y0nJztkdOIfRLirVuvZGAFE_3vujFjKo4ReCnuzrkWgz9Bii49xCjet76S0WSPMXztc7jm6d-Cq7xw-AlPEI9H2yhKBeCnb0/s200/IMG_1648.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
This is the day of the surgery -- and the plastic surgeon actually suggested that I wear the snot-catching nose guard thing 24/7 for the next 2 weeks. Newflash: I didn't.<br />
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The morning after the surgery -- this, by the way, was the day the doctor warned me repeatedly not to have sex...though how he thought Opie could resist my animal magnetism, I'll never know.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5mzR5yHRcp6uUdN44BV2EJeo1AA4ab7z3BDKnObawio7kRrnyJP2NwYQWS_Gd67Fd-NWXo42WHeO1le9ea6KpaLLtwI2az940cgGRaOylsXWV2tAzJgsfoo5D-VZ9Cp4ZHpuPyYjNezU/s1600/IMG_1649.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5mzR5yHRcp6uUdN44BV2EJeo1AA4ab7z3BDKnObawio7kRrnyJP2NwYQWS_Gd67Fd-NWXo42WHeO1le9ea6KpaLLtwI2az940cgGRaOylsXWV2tAzJgsfoo5D-VZ9Cp4ZHpuPyYjNezU/s200/IMG_1649.JPG" width="150" /></a><br />
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<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW56_U-jY54Igvf1DhZvJJlmgiivTfAHnuNPmPNdNf-8Fv85jrY_xNt4FktIO5Cz7xhNJG1r7VQO5B_9DlrpmlUKr0lGT7GH5Owagpq2rjc69P62tKFN9ueYMX-QRRcLXUdifMxRw5X8c/s1600/IMG_1664.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiW56_U-jY54Igvf1DhZvJJlmgiivTfAHnuNPmPNdNf-8Fv85jrY_xNt4FktIO5Cz7xhNJG1r7VQO5B_9DlrpmlUKr0lGT7GH5Owagpq2rjc69P62tKFN9ueYMX-QRRcLXUdifMxRw5X8c/s200/IMG_1664.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">A couple weeks in...when the flap was </span><a href="https://kimbo325.blogspot.com/2019/04/bad-mad-and-sad-next-step-in-skin.html" style="font-size: medium; text-align: start;" target="_blank">"feeling badly!" </a></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I, on the other hand, was a beaming ball of sunshine.</div>
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiSBA0bjWAEhFAR9-4MUKPkjb2siFn6MjcE6-EZUmzPYYQZZCxGFrDVN_fNA7Bxaqq1ii4Ob2b_eNohGmEwPHY2vdrMRf72BohyKZOy_RaArzZNACsc_gM1ihKL3tLn5nj8WpICly7NHA/s1600/IMG_1677.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiSBA0bjWAEhFAR9-4MUKPkjb2siFn6MjcE6-EZUmzPYYQZZCxGFrDVN_fNA7Bxaqq1ii4Ob2b_eNohGmEwPHY2vdrMRf72BohyKZOy_RaArzZNACsc_gM1ihKL3tLn5nj8WpICly7NHA/s200/IMG_1677.JPG" width="150" /></a><br />
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The next surgery, aka The Unflapping!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhArGCbT6O84Et7TP2ay2La2M1fLe4wSLGRCxmxU_YxUE0Y8IVrNhQ8dXq7RlwpRoLVbdjtZiFVG99ftp99rwzChkU9uoDW98NN9PG0piHgUyJQbKSvk2sdE_baE0zUsr_z_SZ01n_Kw08/s1600/IMG_1690.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhArGCbT6O84Et7TP2ay2La2M1fLe4wSLGRCxmxU_YxUE0Y8IVrNhQ8dXq7RlwpRoLVbdjtZiFVG99ftp99rwzChkU9uoDW98NN9PG0piHgUyJQbKSvk2sdE_baE0zUsr_z_SZ01n_Kw08/s200/IMG_1690.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
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Then slowly on the mend....</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY-L7uVcUA-Fk9YM4AaYlQtyygLIi3qrM3GFaSBhSh5PJkoNdA3lSoNgT5wKrasrZEiKw5s8sCmi7NZa7iO2k3CO9z_4kEMlp-hTOCLKw7wg2-7aSWzBHk1UhvBzoPqAAc_CwhkGg90lk/s1600/IMG_2701.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhY-L7uVcUA-Fk9YM4AaYlQtyygLIi3qrM3GFaSBhSh5PJkoNdA3lSoNgT5wKrasrZEiKw5s8sCmi7NZa7iO2k3CO9z_4kEMlp-hTOCLKw7wg2-7aSWzBHk1UhvBzoPqAAc_CwhkGg90lk/s200/IMG_2701.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiitostxIn6SEI71ZpaJqfpSoiR91AcnnbWafd6UPKsMqhW0nuXEFx5xwI_HhbogAkadlLTUkCv1OehuTU2v-9uZv8OzLOBszU3jbiYNs8AS41BoZ1nI5Y5wDCoA4NywD6pBbn63cbUTIs/s1600/IMG_2803.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1280" data-original-width="960" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiitostxIn6SEI71ZpaJqfpSoiR91AcnnbWafd6UPKsMqhW0nuXEFx5xwI_HhbogAkadlLTUkCv1OehuTU2v-9uZv8OzLOBszU3jbiYNs8AS41BoZ1nI5Y5wDCoA4NywD6pBbn63cbUTIs/s200/IMG_2803.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
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Now, six months down the road (drumroll please!):</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq5432HJGg4aSl17UUxeKTkPozrr74IZnpVzUh-V29h2-KDlZsFN5JY6ACR5QDoh9358WUk905raPg9GogsS_yeiv4GEkRPAPdpsLCgT800fGIe8BgSbwPP0bGmK1gn9KfbOTsEKASL08/s1600/IMG_4137.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="763" data-original-width="537" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq5432HJGg4aSl17UUxeKTkPozrr74IZnpVzUh-V29h2-KDlZsFN5JY6ACR5QDoh9358WUk905raPg9GogsS_yeiv4GEkRPAPdpsLCgT800fGIe8BgSbwPP0bGmK1gn9KfbOTsEKASL08/s320/IMG_4137.jpg" width="225" /></a></div>
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Lots of scar cream, not a small amount of make up, a new haircut and very forgiving lighting...but looking like me again!</div>
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It Is Interesting To Notehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00970970839897478501noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166725385168948475.post-34141952006742291912019-08-29T18:35:00.000-06:002019-08-29T18:55:47.565-06:00Back Again!<div id="fb-root"></div>
<script async defer crossorigin="anonymous" src="https://connect.facebook.net/en_US/sdk.js#xfbml=1&version=v4.0"></script><br />
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If you’re wondering why I haven’t updated this blog in so
long, it’s simple: It has been a CRAZY <o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmWEmWMq2Jv5irx-2FDmg7u3ZJilWAg4MC8YmXvj0_AK3JuynnV8k3mDyuQAlo5RMNHH0wayzwugNZA9A5uVE5Pza1aC9rgAs9G9JEL2i6VZZH3x4kU7OF2PN5HlTlB3jsw_0Yn4NKnrk/s1600/PZF1+-+Pink+Zinnia+FLower+1with+box.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1211" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmWEmWMq2Jv5irx-2FDmg7u3ZJilWAg4MC8YmXvj0_AK3JuynnV8k3mDyuQAlo5RMNHH0wayzwugNZA9A5uVE5Pza1aC9rgAs9G9JEL2i6VZZH3x4kU7OF2PN5HlTlB3jsw_0Yn4NKnrk/s200/PZF1+-+Pink+Zinnia+FLower+1with+box.jpg" width="151" /></a></div>
year at The Yates Estates!<br />
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<br /></div>
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And not just in a “Kimberly’s Life Is Always Weird Plus
She’s Been Known To Exaggerate Ever So Slightly” kind of way.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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It’s more like a “Kimberly’s Life Has Slid Off The Rails,
Why Does Everything Happen At Once?” situation.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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And not just because the Yates have moved their Estate to a
whole new location…but I get ahead of myself!<o:p></o:p></div>
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So, to get myself back on track, I will repeat: It’s been a
crazy year.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you know me at all, you know I started the year with skin
cancer…not the deadly variety but the one described on far too many websites as
able to cause “mutilating disfigurement.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Which, to be honest, was not a phrase I handled well…though one I did
enjoy screaming at Opie with alarming frequency. </div>
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Which means the next few months of the year were spent
getting 4 different surgeries to remove the cancer and reconstruct my face.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Then, just to bump things up a notch, in the midst of all
this surgery, we moved into a new house.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And you’re probably saying to yourself, “Self,” you are
saying “It feels as if Kimberly might be sliding into that exaggeration thing
we’ve heard about. After all, LOTS of people move.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Yes, they do.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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However, most of them don’t move while suffering from kidney
stones. One of the first days we were moving things over, I had my first attack
and had to lie down (while yelling helpful instructions from the floor to Opie
about the proper placement of boxes). Then about 2:00 in the morning on the day
of the final move, I woke Opie up by stumbling to the bathroom and puking from pain.
So, off we went to the Emergency Room, a mere 5 hours before the movers were
set to arrive at our old house and pack everything up.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Once there the doctor there asked me a bunch of questions
about all the symptoms I had been experiencing in the previous weeks and
wondered why in the world I hadn’t come in sooner?! We explained about the move
and then I waved a hand at my scar and stitch-filled face and allowed as I’d
had a few other things on my mind.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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He nodded sympathetically and asked “Burns?”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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It is interesting to note that suggesting to a woman who is
already self-conscious about her </div>
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Frankenstein Face that it looks she took a
header into a firepit is NOT the way to convince her she’s going to be back to
her old self soon.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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However, to be fair, this can be forgiven if you pump her
full of the proper amount of kidney stone pain reducing drugs.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In any case, we spent the rest of that day coordinating
trips to the urologist and scheduling a kidney stone surgery in between
deliveries of furniture and household goods.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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So, as I said, not a normal move.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It’s also not normal to spend the second night in your dream
home huddled in the master closet to shelter from the tornado that is ripping
through the city. I mean, yes, tornadoes are fairly common in Oklahoma…but not
many people have to try to track the path of the tornado on social media
(because they don’t have their cable set up yet) as it hurtles toward the old
house they haven’t sold as well as the new house they just moved into while
also trying to convince an exhausted husband that the threat was real and
reassuring 2 frantic dogs that a small, dark windowless room was a fun place to
hang out.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
(Note to self -- start hiding vodka in the storm shelter).</div>
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<br /></div>
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Luckily, although the tornado did crazy damage throughout
both neighborhoods, both our houses were spared. We had one section of fence
that was knocked down and lots of limbs in the yard but no major damage.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is not only proof that God listens to our prayers it
also clearly shows that those prayers don’t have to be completely profanity
free.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But back to the crazy year!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After the move, I had surgery to break up the kidney stones and
we spent the next few months getting the old house ready to sell (Feeling
grateful for all our family and friends who went way above the call of duty to
help us do so! Special shout out to my mom who not only helped us but did so
while healing from a broken collarbone!), getting the new house unpacked, then
I accepted a new position at work, and we are FINALLY getting back to some
semblance of normalcy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Or at least what passes for normal at The Yates Estates!
Though we’re bringing a new kitty home tomorrow and if history teaches us
anything, we can be sure he will be full of attitude and drama and will further increase the mayhem.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But, my point is, I’m finally back! Blogging again—hopefully
with more regularity—and getting my <a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/ShotInThePark" target="_blank">Etsy shop up and running again.</a><a href="https://www.etsy.com/shop/ShotInThePark" target="_blank"> </a> I even got a couple new sets of cards created
and uploaded featuring some of the few pictures I managed to get out and take
during all this crazy business. I, of
course, gave the collections sweet titles like “<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/640796862/pretty-in-pink-5-fine-art-handmade-photo?ref=shop_home_feat_2&frs=1" target="_blank">Pretty In Pink</a>” and “<a href="https://www.etsy.com/listing/602040889/flower-greeting-card-set-spring-flower?ref=shop_home_active_5&frs=1" target="_blank">Sights of Spring</a>” but in my heart the real name is “Skin Cancer Can Suck It!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
PS: It is also interesting to note that the first time I got
skin cancer, about 15 years ago, it also occurred right as I was buying and
moving into my first house. I’m not saying that I’m scared to ever move again
but I probably will get a full body scan done while we’re in the planning
phase!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
<br /><div class="fb-like" data-href="https://kimbo325.blogspot.com/2019/08/back-again.html" data-width="" data-layout="standard" data-action="like" data-size="small" data-show-faces="true" data-share="true"></div>It Is Interesting To Notehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00970970839897478501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166725385168948475.post-8133918982602405332019-05-20T18:10:00.000-06:002019-05-20T18:11:52.115-06:00Literally Losing It<br />
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</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Here’s an interesting
grammar tidbit I learned today:</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjErIGT_v8WWy1E0cLo9Pp3iV64DJS1Lae8YS6Syr6pMTcTp6tSeLMQeVBg56ZkVai9wMMKo3DsPg-i5XkILm5miFiVU1MvaSi2UbY9GIZiWMJMPulgvQz0nJweGphKdEy4fRgPzfmlQcg/s1600/red+polka+socks.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjErIGT_v8WWy1E0cLo9Pp3iV64DJS1Lae8YS6Syr6pMTcTp6tSeLMQeVBg56ZkVai9wMMKo3DsPg-i5XkILm5miFiVU1MvaSi2UbY9GIZiWMJMPulgvQz0nJweGphKdEy4fRgPzfmlQcg/s200/red+polka+socks.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">The definition of the
word literally has changed. Historically, literally meant “actually; without
exaggeration or inaccuracy:” or “used to emphasize the truth and accuracy of a statement or description.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">But now, because so many
people have used it incorrectly for so long, the dictionary has added a new
definition: “</span><span style="color: #111111; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">used for emphasis or to express strong feeling while not being actually
true.</span>”<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Which means when I say
it literally never rains it pours, it’s now unclear if I’m actually being
literal or figurative. Which is actually kind of lucky because, in this narrow
instance, I'm being both.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Figuratively speaking, I
have a lot of rain in my life right now. Skin cancer, moving to a new house,
getting the old house ready to put on the market…call me a drama queen but it’s
a lot to deal with! Adding kidney stones to that mix is, in my humble opinion,
a metaphorical “pouring” of epic proportions.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Particularly since the
latest attack came as we were LITERALLY moving. After I got off work Saturday,
Opie and I loaded up the car with<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>boxes and
headed over to the new house. Then, when we were about a mile away, I got hit
with a pain that was FIGURATIVELY like a small animal had somehow materialized
in my guts and was earnestly attempting to eat its way out.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Good times.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Especially for Opie
because as soon as we got to the house, I LITERALLY stumbled to the bedroom,
shoved a couple pillows together (we hadn't moved the bed yet) and collapsed on the floor...though not
before carefully positioning myself near enough the door that I could see what
he was carrying in in order to yell encouraging suggestions to him. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">This situation was not
noticeably enhanced by the fact that the boxes I’d packed and intended to carry
were not organized in an Opie-approved fashion. By which I mean, my boxes not
only didn’t clearly identify contents but generally also only had things like “upstairs”
or “downstairs” written on them <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Where does this go?” Opie
would demand.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“It says upstairs,” I’d
snap back.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">And he’d be all “Where
upstairs? Guest room? Office? Exercise room?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“JUST TAKE IT UPSTAIRS!”
I’d shout then. “I’ll figure it out later—UNLESS I FREAKING DIE RIGHT HERE ON
THE FLOOR!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">It’s somewhat miraculous
his head didn’t pop right off. (Figuratively sneaking of course).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">But, speaking literally
again, this is when the whole it never rains it pours thing came back into play.
Because this was when the gentle rain turned into a torrential downpour. A “The
Heavens Opened And We Should Think About Building An Ark” kind of
downpour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Which in its own right would
have made moving difficult but was made significantly worse when the </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">tornado sirens went
off.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Take a
moment and try to picture this moment of marital bliss…I’m lying on the floor,
contemplating death, checking weather updates on my phone because we didn’t
have television or computers set up yet, screaming at Opie to take shelter, and
he is resolutely marching in and out of the house with boxes in his arms,
muttering under his breath…no doubt speculating on how boring his life was
before I popped into it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Twitter
says they’re evacuating hospital rooms!” I yelled as he stomped back into the
garage. “The weather channel says we need to get to a safe room or a basement!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">(Except,
of course, we don’t have a basement. Our storm readiness plan is prayer.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“Do not
go back in that garage!” I yelled as he stomped back by. “I am not emotionally
equipped to see you buried in tornado rubble!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“You’re
the one who keeps saying buying this house was fate, that it was meant to be,”
he retorted. “If it’s meant to be, it’s not going to be hit by a tornado.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal"><div id="fb-root"></div>
<script async defer crossorigin="anonymous" src="https://connect.facebook.net/en_US/sdk.js#xfbml=1&version=v3.3"></script>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And even though I really hate it when he uses my own words
against me, I guess he was right because both houses survived the storm with no
trouble.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">So, even though it literally and figuratively is pouring
all over us again right now, things are going pretty well. I had the last of my
stitches out this morning and the doc thinks the scars are “coming along nicely.”
And the kidney stones suck but they could be worse…like when my brother got
them ON HIS HONEYMOON while he and his wife were CAMPING ON A VOLCANO.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Fair warning, though, the news is predicting
earth-shattering storms tonight with the high possibility of tornadoes so there's a pretty good chance that I will spend hours and hours sharing hysterical weather alerts and screaming at Opie to take shelter.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">And I mean that literally!</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<br /><div class="fb-like" data-href="https://kimbo325.blogspot.com/2019/05/literally-losing-it.html" data-width="" data-layout="standard" data-action="like" data-size="small" data-show-faces="true" data-share="true"></div>
<br />It Is Interesting To Notehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00970970839897478501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166725385168948475.post-89019724867878444622019-05-03T21:35:00.000-06:002019-05-03T21:37:39.969-06:00World Naked Gardening Day<br />
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May 4<sup>th</sup> is World Naked Gardening Day.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
To answer the questions that I’m sure are in everyone’s
minds:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLWcaZPIfHZelKBzeWWtjqxLLTKD2WHIYY0dSd3jZsfdMXYRGJmZEhk6_A1VHhyphenhyphenV0dLb77d6k8eHqS60aV-tcHr8W-ZBfp8jhV5yDGlfRtOeag9v3wu2wyTBAU9g7CQyX7AwOSSGR-o48/s1600/flower+socks.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1312" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLWcaZPIfHZelKBzeWWtjqxLLTKD2WHIYY0dSd3jZsfdMXYRGJmZEhk6_A1VHhyphenhyphenV0dLb77d6k8eHqS60aV-tcHr8W-ZBfp8jhV5yDGlfRtOeag9v3wu2wyTBAU9g7CQyX7AwOSSGR-o48/s200/flower+socks.jpg" width="163" /></a></div>
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1. Yes, that’s WORLD not National. It’s clearly a big deal. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
2. Yes, it’s a real thing. It was started in 2005 by the
same naturalists who created the World Naked Bike Ride…which sounds painful in
ways I don’t even want to contemplate. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
3. No, while I can’t speak definitively for Opie, I really do
not think anyone will be cavorting around the gardens here at the Yates Estates
in the raw. First of all, we’re moving and don’t have much of a garden this
year. Second, I have to go to see my surgeon on Monday for a follow up procedure
and if </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I show up with any sign that I’ve been out in the sun, I’m pretty sure
his head will pop right off. So, the only way I’m participating in World Naked
Gardening Day is if first I slather myself from head to toe with Zinc like an overzealous lifeguard from 1985.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And even then, I’d still have to wear a hat…and not just any
hat, one of these over-sized, not at all fashionable of flattering, shades your
entire face, kind of hats.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Don’t get me wrong, I love hats.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wear hats all time, I always have – as evidenced
by this photo montage of some of my favorite hats through the years:<o:p></o:p></div>
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</div>
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</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjv3nDiMftakPnJv3aUD-6-Mvjew1NbDQYAsNA0yLcXY_FxNDAsqcmYbNpskYUb95tGvHJecvEcme4Q1RBqDXmk3L9xkdUlyWOyJIFlgv1LK8DH_4gnnYNvOMnBYiLd47njH2z7aqagZc/s1600/Hats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjv3nDiMftakPnJv3aUD-6-Mvjew1NbDQYAsNA0yLcXY_FxNDAsqcmYbNpskYUb95tGvHJecvEcme4Q1RBqDXmk3L9xkdUlyWOyJIFlgv1LK8DH_4gnnYNvOMnBYiLd47njH2z7aqagZc/s320/Hats.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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</div>
<br />
The thing is, these hats don’t give my face the kind of coverage
I need – my doctor has told me over and over that if I want my scars to fade, I
absolutely can not allow them in direct sunlight. So the other day I ordered THIS
hat:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAa4Dz-Yv6sK6yrrUJK3I_ecOAyjUG8YHxchLNKuj0r5xjODGwbt3hhxEMwBdDIe8VcHLT49JmG0HIlb7_n-LjMlslmluatAIagRjSj77OPNOf-8gLWfCNzAzGKGDFNTn1E2fcInBSK9s/s1600/Sun+hat.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="410" data-original-width="368" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAa4Dz-Yv6sK6yrrUJK3I_ecOAyjUG8YHxchLNKuj0r5xjODGwbt3hhxEMwBdDIe8VcHLT49JmG0HIlb7_n-LjMlslmluatAIagRjSj77OPNOf-8gLWfCNzAzGKGDFNTn1E2fcInBSK9s/s200/Sun+hat.JPG" width="179" /></a></div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p> </div>
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Which may not seem completely horrible – even if it does have a brim
that is roughly the size of a small country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But check out the other features:<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1aqN3NbbxqZIy_r-bm4PqQa4WhlpKb7LVO_Ba9t_rssmOTgAQMr2pC7IK3MyeN-zs-Fa77XhE4ainm9KH9k-fY4bS5U34h1keSkXyHy9lq-iihOyt6G8pd7Bo7lhWFp3U3OA4GvRkT-0/s1600/sun+hat2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="420" data-original-width="365" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1aqN3NbbxqZIy_r-bm4PqQa4WhlpKb7LVO_Ba9t_rssmOTgAQMr2pC7IK3MyeN-zs-Fa77XhE4ainm9KH9k-fY4bS5U34h1keSkXyHy9lq-iihOyt6G8pd7Bo7lhWFp3U3OA4GvRkT-0/s200/sun+hat2.JPG" width="173" /></a></div>
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So your neck—another prime skin cancer danger zone—is fully
covered.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And don’t even get me started on the veil-like face covering…<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj67kBCn73N7UajoJGMtcxlhwanJoa5oF82QK_uRV2ZYMoQug685V7CeUlYkchrv2k4rCmGhciGeq7iu11zW3r1Wetd8ZWt2PBSosm5ujOJ4u96PD0s7wIbr2vnOVeJHIb_pv4X87lhQg4/s1600/Sun+Hat+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="425" data-original-width="325" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj67kBCn73N7UajoJGMtcxlhwanJoa5oF82QK_uRV2ZYMoQug685V7CeUlYkchrv2k4rCmGhciGeq7iu11zW3r1Wetd8ZWt2PBSosm5ujOJ4u96PD0s7wIbr2vnOVeJHIb_pv4X87lhQg4/s320/Sun+Hat+3.JPG" width="244" /></a></div>
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It is interesting to note that, if your significant other is
screaming about how the new hat she has to wear is ridiculous, you should NOT
try to cheer her up by saying “It looks good…it looks like you’re on safari.”
Trust me, she will NOT find this flattering, will definitely respond with
offensive profanity and might even cry.<o:p></o:p></div>
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And let me share the other weird thin about this hat – I heard
about it from some other ladies who have had this procedure. They said it’s one
of the few hats that really makes them feel comfortable being outside and they even
sent me a link. Where I learned that this fabulous hat is recommended for
shopping, tourism, running – you name the activity, this hat will keep you
protected from the sun during it…except, do you notice anything strange about these
ads?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd7jFE0SwS8j18xqRdA_hM2U_L02iQrrDkM6CeyIU-YEGJvdFDnkj6MFk_y4bSUoG2WX-bSLGx5Rx-jKJwpSI3NJXkLIKiT4y3vo0RcDcfpZMtbJ2SDv5kncrO4ovFXSkrt1DGW3pJCbs/s1600/hat+ad1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="305" data-original-width="234" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd7jFE0SwS8j18xqRdA_hM2U_L02iQrrDkM6CeyIU-YEGJvdFDnkj6MFk_y4bSUoG2WX-bSLGx5Rx-jKJwpSI3NJXkLIKiT4y3vo0RcDcfpZMtbJ2SDv5kncrO4ovFXSkrt1DGW3pJCbs/s200/hat+ad1.JPG" width="153" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeypSA0gNDPVN6caBAVadUxzbzhqjrRHiOQ7ZmTsWcKd8MHMuYF0qiJN9PTaltXvXqNyl8je6aaoAmGDNl6aaGDyFd9Lk2oNbafS9ntjRy5nbOxhd5GURdyGx8CqiZlFk1VJZIMOH5-k4/s1600/Hat+ad3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="345" data-original-width="223" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeypSA0gNDPVN6caBAVadUxzbzhqjrRHiOQ7ZmTsWcKd8MHMuYF0qiJN9PTaltXvXqNyl8je6aaoAmGDNl6aaGDyFd9Lk2oNbafS9ntjRy5nbOxhd5GURdyGx8CqiZlFk1VJZIMOH5-k4/s200/Hat+ad3.JPG" width="128" /></a> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_OShPJn4cW62ewepzSr2XxQirTzw3iiSqUITp8dFGgJn1fUlF4why_dNT3GXLxYcm3kGHIrqjNQWlp4PewF7GmxHSY8sTtRx_vkurj6IY4X_d7FynLZTE-64PLRWk1v-wou54CvKcqzc/s1600/Hat+ad2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="334" data-original-width="254" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_OShPJn4cW62ewepzSr2XxQirTzw3iiSqUITp8dFGgJn1fUlF4why_dNT3GXLxYcm3kGHIrqjNQWlp4PewF7GmxHSY8sTtRx_vkurj6IY4X_d7FynLZTE-64PLRWk1v-wou54CvKcqzc/s200/Hat+ad2.JPG" width="151" /></a><br />
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Anything? Anything
that seems a bit off??</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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Like the fact that NO ONE in the ads is actually wearing the
hat???<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The hat is so freaking
ridiculous, they couldn’t get a paid model to slap it on FOR THE AD IN WHICH
THEY WERE TRYING TO GET YOU TO BUY IT.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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This is what I’ve been reduced to – fashion accessories so
objectionable the best advertisement for them is NOT wearing them.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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But, as usual, I digress. I was going to talk about World
Naked Gardening Day…as I said, it was started in 2005. Why? Because, according
to surveys done by a bevy of believers of being in the buff, gardening was second
only to swimming as an activity people most enjoyed doing naked.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Which I find mildly horrifying…do these people not have roses
and other thorny plants? Are they unaware that the garden can often be filled
with insects that sting and bite? <o:p></o:p></div>
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<script async defer crossorigin="anonymous" src="https://connect.facebook.net/en_US/sdk.js#xfbml=1&version=v3.3"></script>
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And the original concept of the day was NOT to frolic amongst
your own foliage with your fanny free of festive fashion. The original concept
was described as kind of “guerilla prankster.” In which you were actually
supposed to drive around different neighborhoods, then jump out of the car at
random locations and weed, water, or otherwise tend someone else’s garden—NAKED.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Why this never caught on is a mystery for the ages.<o:p></o:p></div>
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In any case, as I said, we have no current plans to
participate in this particular holiday. But if you hear a news story in which a
slightly chubby middle-aged woman. naked except for a comically large hat and a
painted on layer of white zinc, is arrested for drive by gardening, you can be
assured that I have, in fact, finally snapped.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Enjoy the holiday everyone but feel free NOT to share pics.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div><div class="fb-like" data-href="https://kimbo325.blogspot.com/2019/05/world-naked-gardening-day.html" data-width="" data-layout="standard" data-action="like" data-size="small" data-show-faces="true" data-share="true"></div>
<br />It Is Interesting To Notehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00970970839897478501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166725385168948475.post-36116748657259522902019-04-27T16:12:00.002-06:002019-04-27T16:15:12.128-06:00Homes, Humor and Hibiscus Rescue<div id="fb-root"></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgICD-v8rMzD8QxjI-MRN32dpy1wjq79R8w-CyO4vVRW7xrKMKWJPpsqmy1ueutx74yeYay8_KQn97W9RbUy6Eeb5cBuwfRPLnOnJ7OYB1zb8jQNAeDhdZA9mOLT76P7IysS6hf2ZQ5u1c/s1600/Mickey+Mouse+Socks.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgICD-v8rMzD8QxjI-MRN32dpy1wjq79R8w-CyO4vVRW7xrKMKWJPpsqmy1ueutx74yeYay8_KQn97W9RbUy6Eeb5cBuwfRPLnOnJ7OYB1zb8jQNAeDhdZA9mOLT76P7IysS6hf2ZQ5u1c/s200/Mickey+Mouse+Socks.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
<br />
As I've mentioned in earlier posts (but never really explained), Opie and I are getting ready to move.<br />
<br />
You might think that buying a new house, moving, and getting our current house ready to sell while in the midst of skin cancer treatment & recovery is a little bit completely insane.<br />
<br />
You would, in fact, be right. It's nutty cakes...but it was one of those deals we just couldn't pass up.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmdQL0J7zdqaUKcF8i1E4UjxFc80XUH6474XM2YIXDGrwxhWXRCJAod2mCk1pKK2pAlIuNT1ArspzzKneWD9NDEkT1Zo_27m-KBnXbU5t0psqZfbSV_iIlmfmVw_4kjQNue2iPoODYScg/s1600/new+house.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="639" data-original-width="960" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmdQL0J7zdqaUKcF8i1E4UjxFc80XUH6474XM2YIXDGrwxhWXRCJAod2mCk1pKK2pAlIuNT1ArspzzKneWD9NDEkT1Zo_27m-KBnXbU5t0psqZfbSV_iIlmfmVw_4kjQNue2iPoODYScg/s200/new+house.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
It was Opie's cousin's house that I've been obsessed with for years...In fact, after the first time we went over there for dinner, when we were driving home, I told Opie "If they ever sell that house, we're buying it."<br />
<br />
He laughed, like I was kidding.<br />
<br />
I wasn't kidding.<br />
<br />
So when the cousin and his wife decided to downsize and offered us a great deal on it, we knew we couldn't let a little thing like horrible facial scarring stand in out way. I mean, if you're going to hide yourself away like a hermit, you might as well do it in a house you love!<br />
<br />
In any case, the beauty of buying a house from family is that, even though we don't officially close until the end of May, we've been able to slowly start moving our stuff to the new house.<br />
<br />
The only problem with this is that Opie and I have VERY different strategies when it comes to familial relocation. He us under the impression that it is best to go through our closets and storage areas, take over the things we aren't currently using, and get them put away in a organized fashion. I am of the firm opinion that I love my freaking kitchen with a love that is more than love and I've had all my cool Mickey Mouse gadgets in storage for years, and I should spend a few hours every day arranging them in an aesthetically pleasing fashion.<br />
<br />
Poor, deluded Opie also doesn't understand that some of the things we need to take with us are the plants and flowers that I have spent 8 years cultivating....like the hibiscus.<br />
<br />
Which was the subject of the following blog back in 2015:<br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;">Well, after the unfortunate “<a href="http://kimbo325.blogspot.com/2015/04/fences-fur-babies-and-future-felonies.html" target="_blank">NeighborsGet A Monster-Sized Dog</a>” issue, we're biting the bullet and having a new fence installed.<br /><br />And if you think this process has occurred without drama and brouhaha then you've never read this blog before.<br /><br />It all started with the hibiscus. This beautiful, big hibiscus that is growing through the old chain link fence and dwarfing the plants around it. It flowers for months and months every summer and is absolutely gorgeous.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;">And kind of huge.</span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge8vLWBWuL3CNNPYzew-XbZYlBaaZhPNVj_ry3el96L4Tb-WAVGaZBKAym9pKoWHU4mUBRFpkdeqMGj-m83cLzudxajqePYiqnl4ckrqwD8MnYJPHLzvfMmPbDnevLP3ZZ7Orp3d3-1jc/s1600/Hibiscus+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge8vLWBWuL3CNNPYzew-XbZYlBaaZhPNVj_ry3el96L4Tb-WAVGaZBKAym9pKoWHU4mUBRFpkdeqMGj-m83cLzudxajqePYiqnl4ckrqwD8MnYJPHLzvfMmPbDnevLP3ZZ7Orp3d3-1jc/s200/Hibiscus+1.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The original Hibiscus</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;">“We can't really build around </span><i style="font-family: helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;">that.</i><span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;">” The fence guys said. "And if you leave it there, it could warp the new fence."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;"><br />“We'll have to rip it out," Opie said.<br /><br />And I stared at him in abject horror. "We are not MURDERING that hibiscus!"<br /><br />"I don't think it's really murder when it's a <i>plant</i>," he said.<br /><br />But I wasn’t about to listen to that kind of nonsense. So I flat out refused to participate in his horrifying <b>bushicide </b>plot and began looking up ways to transplant it to the front yard.<br /><br />"This is going to be a disaster," Opie predicted.<br /><br />"Not for YOU," I assured him. "I'll take care of everything."<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;">Everything except pruning the bush down to 1/3 of its original size (per Internet instructions) and cleaning up the subsequent debris. He did that…convinced, I suspect, that I wouldn’t completely clean up the hibiscus detritus (even though I love the word detritus) and instead scatter it around the yard in hopes the lawn guy would be able to mulch it with the mower.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlwG2sbbpx6iI2suzcs06lFEVpispQDWGBrb59LEIhhEqmZDF2jrBTR8mpj3F-D-6HLjllC8NrAEdegyhQL5E3n9BegOqHrE284xiVDdKMPayE-BtpSEUKM5BemAxIaxgog51R-M1QxA0/s1600/Hibiscus++trimmed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="172" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlwG2sbbpx6iI2suzcs06lFEVpispQDWGBrb59LEIhhEqmZDF2jrBTR8mpj3F-D-6HLjllC8NrAEdegyhQL5E3n9BegOqHrE284xiVDdKMPayE-BtpSEUKM5BemAxIaxgog51R-M1QxA0/s200/Hibiscus++trimmed.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">After that, though, the bush’s fate was in my hands. And one morning last week, after Opie left for work, I went out to save the poor hibiscus. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;">“Easy-peasy,” I told the dogs. “Just dig around the bush in a circle, loosen the roots, and bam! Hibiscus saved!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;">2 hours later, it was pretty clear the root-loosening wasn’t really working for us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;">“Never fear,” I told the dogs. “We just need to add a little water to the soil, saturate the roots so they slide right out of the ground.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiARgSlKdgDFD5HPDhPkANtF1DIknFwh5I4H1Q34o0nsy4n9aBsJ9wfeTAI2hhbGwXSqPOBgCL_JkWfAAIyYFXaZ37NXlXY9ZEmAFVboQpdHY2VbwE6sd-y8qTBfHyyXM1q8eFP8cFEq7s/s1600/Hibiscus+digging.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiARgSlKdgDFD5HPDhPkANtF1DIknFwh5I4H1Q34o0nsy4n9aBsJ9wfeTAI2hhbGwXSqPOBgCL_JkWfAAIyYFXaZ37NXlXY9ZEmAFVboQpdHY2VbwE6sd-y8qTBfHyyXM1q8eFP8cFEq7s/s200/Hibiscus+digging.jpg" style="cursor: move;" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;">Which led to 3 more hours of digging in soggy mud.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;">Though, to be fair, part of that time frame was based on the fact that the ridciulousPrincess Snowflake Sassypants k</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">ept scampering through the mud in a very un-Princess like fashion.</span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWdoCPrZN1LjYL7_Ah1OWR0dAiRHwRuKwYoIw80C7lKYU6_2Evoa7KeS3MGpjdqQ7H88toJgX_NoeKN-eKM6zJutZKI9iDLeGAYqRTB8ik7MELdun6bKC8ZjfzRy9teYRyzQgPujdkCjQ/s1600/Sassy+dirty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="151" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWdoCPrZN1LjYL7_Ah1OWR0dAiRHwRuKwYoIw80C7lKYU6_2Evoa7KeS3MGpjdqQ7H88toJgX_NoeKN-eKM6zJutZKI9iDLeGAYqRTB8ik7MELdun6bKC8ZjfzRy9teYRyzQgPujdkCjQ/s200/Sassy+dirty.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">In any case, I worked</span><span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> on that hibiscus for a shocking amount of time and it showed no signs of loosening by the time I had to get ready for work.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;">Which is when I came up with my brilliant plan:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;">Completely flood the roots and hibiscus hole, let it all soak in while I worked my shift online, then come back out and pop it out like a cork from champagne.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKZaaeZzL-mF4UC32JIAOPmGAPC4j0ORO1fseSGBml07x-mCxZJdLq9ZChjlzKsXmRd4CtDo5KKR57CfP9kH4zdruUmCgEkTTuqXFSVr9oynhiHkFWy1MV2FOjb0uQ8orV0VHieGYpbvY/s1600/Hibiscus+flooded.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKZaaeZzL-mF4UC32JIAOPmGAPC4j0ORO1fseSGBml07x-mCxZJdLq9ZChjlzKsXmRd4CtDo5KKR57CfP9kH4zdruUmCgEkTTuqXFSVr9oynhiHkFWy1MV2FOjb0uQ8orV0VHieGYpbvY/s320/Hibiscus+flooded.jpg" width="246" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;">And still I think this might have actually worked…except it started to rain.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;">And when I say “rain” I don’t mean a gentle shower with rainbows peeking through. I mean the kind of torrential downpour that makes you start looking for the proper materials to build an ark.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;">The hole flooded, the area around the hole flooded, the fence-line flooded…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;">“This doesn’t look good.” I told the dogs. And they concurred but had no helpful suggestions other than to hint that a few treats and belly-rubs would make everyone feel better.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;">Seriously, these dogs are very self-involved.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;">Anyway, I don’t have any pictures of <i>that </i>because I couldn’t take my awesome new camera out in the rain.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;">I had no trouble taking myself out in the rain, though, because after I finally finished my online shift, I ran out into the storm, and started digging and wading through calf-deep mud, pulling that hibiscus as hard as I could.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;">To no avail.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;">It was around this point that I lost whatever tiny grip I had on my sanity and began screaming at the hibiscus in frustration.<br /><br />"I am the only thing standing between you and CERTAIN DEATH!" I shouted at it. "Don't you understand that? You need to move or DIE."<br /><br />I'm a little disturbed to report that none of the neighbors came out to investigate the screaming and death threats. Which means they are either completely callous and uncaring OR they have become completely inured to this type of behavior after nearly 4 years of living next to me.<br /><br />Honestly, I don't know which is worse.<br /><br />Anyway, there I was in the backyard in a torrential downpour, cursing the hibiscus, threatening the hibiscus, and trying to shake the hibiscus free when Opie got home from work.<br /><br />"What did you do?" He demanded, looking at the swampland that had once been our backyard.<br /><br />"EITHER SAY SOMETHING HELPFUL OR GO INSIDE!!" I shrieked.<br /><br />And he went inside.<br /><br />Which makes him sound like the biggest jerk in the world until you realize that he was just going in to change out of of his work clothes. He was back in a few minutes, in old clothes and shoes, with a shovel of his own.<br /><br />And a mere hour and a half later, we got the damn bush out of its earthen prison!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;">Which left an unfortunate puddle large enough to drown a dog.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik2Iw6ThWx-3VDvBUn2p-E696qdFP9cfBtxHBIec73ME5mnLXVLOI1AJm7T_G4PaX0opXmCoP3OTyY77tnpkGJHzbc74fAA-IxamlHmZ76OwRb3OiM8LJyC6EK8vj06p7nVEZtBWx2XEo/s1600/Hole.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEik2Iw6ThWx-3VDvBUn2p-E696qdFP9cfBtxHBIec73ME5mnLXVLOI1AJm7T_G4PaX0opXmCoP3OTyY77tnpkGJHzbc74fAA-IxamlHmZ76OwRb3OiM8LJyC6EK8vj06p7nVEZtBWx2XEo/s200/Hole.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;">“I’ll drag the hibiscus around front,” Opie said. “And then you can dig a new hole and plant it in the morning.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;">“I have to plant it tonight,” I said. “All the guides said you have to get it re-planted as soon as possible or it won’t survive. And,” I finished before he could even ask “I couldn’t dig the hole before-hand because I didn’t know how big the rootball was going to be and what size hole I would need.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;">Opie stared at me for a really long time (especially considering we were standing outside in the rain) then began dragging the bush and muttering under his breath…muttering, I’m pretty sure, sweet nothings about how I am the light of his life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB3ryvgQoxwC6EQbcLN6xw_ETX8kdIu0j5tMVxlGG9D7gAhL44yvRNwU-UB16S0vL35OqHBZza6CIgyFmGYD4GDVj5C_ORMMBEosRJOwhQ1u9ss0UYblA4kzVn3KybMS6_CSGTPSEDq60/s1600/hibiscus+moved.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB3ryvgQoxwC6EQbcLN6xw_ETX8kdIu0j5tMVxlGG9D7gAhL44yvRNwU-UB16S0vL35OqHBZza6CIgyFmGYD4GDVj5C_ORMMBEosRJOwhQ1u9ss0UYblA4kzVn3KybMS6_CSGTPSEDq60/s200/hibiscus+moved.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;">“Go on inside!” I shouted after him. “I’ll dig the new hole! I’LL TAKE CARE OF EVERYTHING!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;">But he wasn’t falling for THAT again. He dug the hole, we pushed the hibiscus in, and bam!<o:p></o:p></span><span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Opie was saved from the karmic consequences of hibiscus murder.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;">The 2019 problem, though, is that I love that stupid hibiscus...after the transplant trauma of 2015, it actually now blooms in two different colors and I think it's gorgeous but after my own transplant trauma I'm pretty sure I'm nt going to be able to move it without Opie's help. And every time I mention it to Opie he says "You already made that joke." like I'm kidding. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica" , sans-serif; line-height: 17.12px;">So, friends help a flower lover out -- how do I convince Opie that we need to to start planning Operation Hibiscus Rescue 2.0?</span><br />
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<br /> <div class="fb-like" data-href="https://kimbo325.blogspot.com/2019/04/homes-humor-and-hibiscus-rescue.html" data-width="" data-layout="standard" data-action="like" data-size="small" data-show-faces="true" data-share="true"></div>It Is Interesting To Notehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00970970839897478501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166725385168948475.post-40683327792476719072019-04-11T18:11:00.000-06:002019-04-11T18:11:06.881-06:00National Siblings Day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Happy National Siblings Day to my awesome brothers!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ9pUEmqMyOSgXmWCfaS4Y-TnkCMU6pp0_6iyiVCqYAlX7WzPJ6SXASN2JkZebIeQvDz_62ij_uj2zxW63RvSYDMY0HUsF9gB5voiC1V7gzuunlVl8iAmuzB_6HDX3Isxsg4NRPd2SsN8/s1600/IMG_2374.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ9pUEmqMyOSgXmWCfaS4Y-TnkCMU6pp0_6iyiVCqYAlX7WzPJ6SXASN2JkZebIeQvDz_62ij_uj2zxW63RvSYDMY0HUsF9gB5voiC1V7gzuunlVl8iAmuzB_6HDX3Isxsg4NRPd2SsN8/s320/IMG_2374.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />It Is Interesting To Notehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00970970839897478501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166725385168948475.post-355470525110906772019-04-07T14:49:00.000-06:002019-04-08T07:01:47.205-06:00Bad, Mad, and Sad - Next Step in Skin Cancer Recovery!<div id="fb-root">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOjWWBhUYljRwW0nlkg3ZVZBzkfoAAUIw4w7qpep_I8qtdvHgQ3CC7PMrgroQaFETxCYnsU-vi2fvBU_nZC2-2u9Boo2EgvyRvd-GTJhrpQ5_LtVGZt_UmpFxQ398YEpY_LobbCjS-Yhw/s1600/qt+socks.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOjWWBhUYljRwW0nlkg3ZVZBzkfoAAUIw4w7qpep_I8qtdvHgQ3CC7PMrgroQaFETxCYnsU-vi2fvBU_nZC2-2u9Boo2EgvyRvd-GTJhrpQ5_LtVGZt_UmpFxQ398YEpY_LobbCjS-Yhw/s200/qt+socks.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Here’s the
thing about English teachers, even former English teachers, we all have our
personal grammar pet peeves. And some of us have A LOT of grammar pet peeves.
I, for instance, hate it when people use apostrophes to make a plural, or use the word “myself” when “me”
is appropriate or confuse it's and its...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">There are more <span style="font-size: x-small;">(don't even get me started on there, they're and their)</span> but you probably get the picture.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">I’m not saying
I always speak perfectly because I don’t. I mix metaphors, I end sentences with
prepositions…In fact, I’m frequently guilty of NPR Grammar Hall of Shame’s #1 error</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"> (in
related news, how dorky is it that I actually know the NPR Grammar Hall of Shame?!</span>)</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"> misuse of the words “me” and “I.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I say things like “This is a picture of Opie and I” instead of “Opie and me” because it somehow sounds better even though it’s
wrong. I have to correct myself on this all the time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">And if you
think it’s annoying when someone else corrects your grammar, you should think
how poor Opie feels when I shout out corrections for both of us.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
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<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHljceYXXO0sPS2vgugrTcUuaDLMULHcsiiVs0Ni4Ko9dgiPEzu00dn3o5l2tL6RHibHgK6Ecs2EHqdX2pNPAcFxobGBhYcwC9E7ZjsWnot87-E5i3jtCr9k2RHI12ZDxN0nxfJ9GTE-s/s1600/grammar+bag.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="570" data-original-width="570" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHljceYXXO0sPS2vgugrTcUuaDLMULHcsiiVs0Ni4Ko9dgiPEzu00dn3o5l2tL6RHibHgK6Ecs2EHqdX2pNPAcFxobGBhYcwC9E7ZjsWnot87-E5i3jtCr9k2RHI12ZDxN0nxfJ9GTE-s/s200/grammar+bag.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Friends of ours got me <br />
this bag a few years<br />
ago and it's so true!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">But I digress…</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">I was going to
talk about my personal #1 Grammar Pet Peeve – the misuse of the word
“badly.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even more specifically, when
people say “I feel badly.” <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">If you say this, please note that “I feel badly”
does not describe your emotional state. It actually means there is something
wrong with your ability to feel. Like you have nerve damage. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">It is interesting to note that I have actually
complained about this so much with this exact explanation to Opie that when someone
on television says “I feel badly” we now both say “Nerve damage?” at the same time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Anyway, there’s a whole
long grammatical explanation for the “I feel badly” issue that has to do with linking verbs
versus action verbs and how adverbs and adjectives work...but if you didn’t pay
attention to your English teacher back in high school, you’re probably not that
interested in a grammar lesson now.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">So, just
trust me, “I feel badly” is wrong.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">And if you don’t want to
take my word for it, think about this: you don’t feel madly, sadly, or gladly
do you?!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Of course not, that would be ridiculous.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Anyway, you might be
wondering what in the holy heck this has to do with skin cancer recovery. Well,
to be fair, I do feel bad, mad, sad and not at all glad that I got skin
cancer. But, the thing is....<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">....Wait for it....</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Because of the skin
cancer, I also DO feel badly! In the sense that my ability to feel has been
compromised! My scalp is still numb where I had a bunch of staples and my nose
is numb because it’s new at being a nose and is still getting used to it.
But—worst of all—when I touch the flap to clean it or whatever, I don’t feel it
on my nose, I FEEL IT ON MY FOREHEAD!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Why?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Because after sustaining
all the surgically induced NERVE DAMAGE, the flap feels badly!!! <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">I’m not going to lie, I
tell Opie that with alarming frequency.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">But my next surgery is
Tuesday. During this one, the doctor is going to cut off the flap to make my
forehead and nose separate entities again and all the nerves should start
recovering and waking up and I should be on the road to feeling good again </span><span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;">(yes, good although well also works when you’re
referencing health…but that’s a whole predicate adjective grammar lesson for a
different day).</span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">I still won’t be posting
pictures of my face for awhile, and I have to have another (more minor)
procedure for another spot of cancer on my chin in May which does make me feel
bad, mad and sad all over again but I will be able to stop screaming “I FEEL
BADLY!” every time I wash my face.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">Which will probably be a
big relief to Opie.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">So, once again, I’d
appreciate your thoughts, prayers, positive energy, and
cookie donations in lieu of blood sacrifices (I like macarons) while I go under the knife again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;">But, whatever you do,
don’t feel badly for me because there’s really no need to give yourself nerve damage
on my account.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span><br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<div class="fb-like" data-action="like" data-href="https://kimbo325.blogspot.com/2019/04/bad-mad-and-sad-next-step-in-skin.html" data-layout="standard" data-share="true" data-show-faces="true" data-size="small">
</div>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><br /></span>
If you want to read more about my skin cancer journey, you can find that info below:<br />
<br />
<a href="https://bit.ly/2FUECZf" target="_blank">Sunscreen, Skin Cancer and Spiritual Support</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://bit.ly/2HVpaxe" target="_blank">Happy Birthday to Me</a><br />
<br />
<span style="color: black; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"></span><br />
<a href="https://bit.ly/2HPeHEl" target="_blank">National Doctors Day</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://kimbo325.blogspot.com/2019/04/dogs-and-daffodils.html" target="_blank">Dogs & Daffodils</a><br />
<br />
<br />
And if you want more information on skin cancer in general, check out these articles at the CDC:<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.cdc.gov/cancer/skin/basic_info/index.htm" target="_blank">CDC - Skin Cancer Information</a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />It Is Interesting To Notehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00970970839897478501noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166725385168948475.post-69273985609488059022019-04-02T05:44:00.002-06:002019-04-02T18:14:48.915-06:00Dogs and Daffodils<div id="fb-root">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrZJo-izJBSP3CKbuvliGW_E8AF7f5FdqtgFF97b5R625uHbnVtiItJYLD9kBt4cwA_GLmCwPQ64jSeibLTJV7Z1rUVhMDSe-QO5hPxetrJqVD9YqDiAJsC0Kaem-ts0eXak1SYXYQE6M/s1600/Leopard+slippers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1454" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrZJo-izJBSP3CKbuvliGW_E8AF7f5FdqtgFF97b5R625uHbnVtiItJYLD9kBt4cwA_GLmCwPQ64jSeibLTJV7Z1rUVhMDSe-QO5hPxetrJqVD9YqDiAJsC0Kaem-ts0eXak1SYXYQE6M/s200/Leopard+slippers.jpg" width="181" /></a></div>
<script async="" crossorigin="anonymous" defer="" src="https://connect.facebook.net/en_US/sdk.js#xfbml=1&version=v3.2"></script>Well, we just hit the two week mark and do you know who is actually excited by the skin cancer and horrifying forehead flap?<br />
<br />
The ridiculous dogs.<br />
<br />
Well, to be fair, I don't know if they're excited about the skin cancer itself but they have found the recuperation process downright blissful.<br />
<br />
See, while the "flap" is still attached like a horrible bridge across my face, there's a danger of infection and rejection. So, I'm not supposed to do anything. Not really walk around, go up and down the steps as seldom as possible, not even walk out into the kitchen and get myself something to drink because I'm not supposed to lift anything heavier than a jug of milk.<br />
<br />
Which means I spend A LOT of time either lying on the couch or lying in bed.<br />
<br />
This might sound like a great gig but the first week I felt too sore and tired to really enjoy it and this week, now that I'm feeling worlds better, I'm bored out of my mind.<br />
<br />
You know who ISN'T bored and thinks spending the day snuggled on the couch is a mini-version of heaven?<br />
<br />
The ridiculous dogs.<br />
<br />
In fact, I often wake up to this:<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuQt9IRcp2F8BfJdsKCWUV_DoYfEZegEg_8uyxiRjXNzwxrdRL7RwY3nR7wOIYotSQoDoxB6ozNtWoAkuijMavTNtPAEIrLpnqB8Lz3WcuP5JCLKP52EROXRqn-5HmzRrqfJbQvUBza6g/s1600/IMG_2190+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuQt9IRcp2F8BfJdsKCWUV_DoYfEZegEg_8uyxiRjXNzwxrdRL7RwY3nR7wOIYotSQoDoxB6ozNtWoAkuijMavTNtPAEIrLpnqB8Lz3WcuP5JCLKP52EROXRqn-5HmzRrqfJbQvUBza6g/s200/IMG_2190+%25282%2529.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
<br />
This might seem cute and loving but has caused a situation in which my belly has become the disputed holy grail of canine cuddling. See, Bubba thinks that he, too, is a lap dog. So I also often wake up to this:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBpFi8Nx3Ox3GaVc9gmZ5JjVsPTreTC96mYGiETWDkEAIE-MPikf4UKMgdeQzDBbqmnVOjGa0foByEaBc5BaOD0K1NOnymRCw1WyxnVKWadbfhYtG_3yzm_2Az-Lr-dU_Zf3lWBFQM7Gg/s1600/sc+b%253Bog2+bub.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBpFi8Nx3Ox3GaVc9gmZ5JjVsPTreTC96mYGiETWDkEAIE-MPikf4UKMgdeQzDBbqmnVOjGa0foByEaBc5BaOD0K1NOnymRCw1WyxnVKWadbfhYtG_3yzm_2Az-Lr-dU_Zf3lWBFQM7Gg/s200/sc+b%253Bog2+bub.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
at which time Bubba suggests that Sassy needs to take her turn at the end of the couch so he can be the one to perch lovingly on my stomach. I have tried to explain to him that this will result in my slow death by suffocation but he's really committed to his idea of fairness.<br />
<br />
The other person who is NOT thrilled with the recuperation process is Opie. Not that he minds helping me--he's been great about that! It was easier when my mom was here but after she left, he worked out a whole system so that before he has to leave for work, I have everything I want/need for the day beside me and anything I might want to eat for lunch or snack on is just a few steps away. He's awesome.<br />
<br />
But since I can't do anything around the house, he has to do EVERYTHING while I lie on the couch and call out helpful suggestions on the cooking, cleaning, animal care and, of course, the cutting of daffodils for a festive bouquet.<br />
<br />
I'm not going to lie, that last one wasn't on his list of important tasks but I, in my sweet and docile way, explained how it was supposed to freeze and the daffodils were going to be ruined before I could even go outside and enjoy them and would it really kill him to go to the front yard, for the love of heaven, and snip a few stupid daffodils?<br />
<br />
He was a pretty good sport about it but considering this was one of the flowers that made it into the vase:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir97gTowSfsADibjBETQluKh3rjitDwOU8TvDfYlbZaVM6_OiPhcvbve83CN1C4q07S98TjaeuE46anGed8Ng1uj5WwmvMfcnyO9p0Wk4rTkonzYSW9nsh5ocaorOhBoWaOUW4n3ZED-4/s1600/IMG_2187.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir97gTowSfsADibjBETQluKh3rjitDwOU8TvDfYlbZaVM6_OiPhcvbve83CN1C4q07S98TjaeuE46anGed8Ng1uj5WwmvMfcnyO9p0Wk4rTkonzYSW9nsh5ocaorOhBoWaOUW4n3ZED-4/s200/IMG_2187.JPG" width="150" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
I suspect his heart wasn't really in it.<br />
<br />
Luckily, though, we only have to survive one more week. I went to the doctor yesterday and the horrible flap is healing nicely, looks like it's going to be a "100% take", and we're on schedule to have the separation surgery one week from today. After that, I still won't be able to lift anything heavy for awhile and I'll need to rest for a couple of days but it won't be like this week in which I have to wait for Opie if I so much as drop a Q-Tip on the floor.<br />
<br />
And, though he hasn't actually complained at all, I think Opie will be glad to give up his nursing duties...but I don't think he should give up his other day job because he definitely does NOT have a future in flower arrangement:<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjwRk8JMjxzVxRuNsXzpNTUj5CeJDnMs2hvxVa4NIni_OM-iT8OamScxroHBRjY-Oh2W0NDB-hVj9v8X98lA5gzy4XrjDMZu7y4epp6482AZ1pux9XOsowSSQrCWfagXQh0Ofiv1A4Rws/s1600/IMG_2189.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjwRk8JMjxzVxRuNsXzpNTUj5CeJDnMs2hvxVa4NIni_OM-iT8OamScxroHBRjY-Oh2W0NDB-hVj9v8X98lA5gzy4XrjDMZu7y4epp6482AZ1pux9XOsowSSQrCWfagXQh0Ofiv1A4Rws/s200/IMG_2189.JPG" width="150" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Thanks again for everyone's thoughts, prayers, and positive energy!<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<br />
<div class="fb-like" data-action="like" data-href="https://kimbo325.blogspot.com/2019/04/dogs-and-daffodils.html" data-layout="standard" data-share="true" data-show-faces="true" data-size="small">
</div>
<br />
<br />
If you want to read more about my skin cancer journey, you can find that info below:<br />
<br />
<a href="https://bit.ly/2FUECZf" target="_blank">Sunscreen, Skin Cancer and Spiritual Support</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://bit.ly/2HVpaxe" target="_blank">Happy Birthday to Me</a><br />
<br />
<a href="https://bit.ly/2HPeHEl" target="_blank">National Doctors Day</a><br />
<br />
And if you want more information on skin cancer in general, check out these articles at the CDC:<br />
<br />
<a href="https://www.cdc.gov/cancer/skin/basic_info/index.htm">https://www.cdc.gov/cancer/skin/basic_info/index.htm</a></div>
It Is Interesting To Notehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00970970839897478501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166725385168948475.post-37590038242947575792019-03-29T07:50:00.000-06:002019-03-29T09:38:58.538-06:00National Doctors Day<div id="fb-root">
</div>
<script async="" crossorigin="anonymous" defer="" src="https://connect.facebook.net/en_US/sdk.js#xfbml=1&version=v3.2"></script>March 30 is National Doctors Day which, for obvious reasons, has been a topic at the top of my consciousness.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0cvUq9i5UYALjeAt7evJB86-LIC09TxkrofuVeP-Wak-fxMg8FncYE8t7D-StxVRpoNQOmduGsue6Eq5zYcoFxIGrMJAI4c_YIaKFgPTVH9zW2-PAOHI6i-365XoGuS9gG6hWVGI3z3E/s1600/IMG_2147.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1179" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0cvUq9i5UYALjeAt7evJB86-LIC09TxkrofuVeP-Wak-fxMg8FncYE8t7D-StxVRpoNQOmduGsue6Eq5zYcoFxIGrMJAI4c_YIaKFgPTVH9zW2-PAOHI6i-365XoGuS9gG6hWVGI3z3E/s200/IMG_2147.jpg" width="146" /></a></div>
<br />
Let me say this first: I have a great plastic surgeon. All the nurses, referring docs, and hospital staff have told me he's "amazing" and "an artist" and "a miracle worker." Which are the exact kind of words you want to hear when you've just had half your nose chopped off and are needing someone to build something to fill the hole in the middle of your face.<br />
<br />
Plus, he embraces my paranoid crazy and actually ENCOURAGES me to send him texts with pictures and questions in between appointments so I won't get upset and overwrought and worried that some slight change in the flap means what's left of my nose is going to slide off my face.<br />
<br />
Which is not to say that I DON'T get upset and overwrought and worried that some slight change in the graft area means what's left of my nose is going to slide off my face...it just means that when I do start freaking out and referring to myself as "Kimbo No Nose" Opie can say things like "Text the doctor, ask HIM, he's the expert."<br />
<br />
And, to date, the doctor has always answered within the hour, usually within 10-15 minutes.<br />
<br />
Seriously, he's a rock star.<br />
<br />
But at the same time, I occasionally feel like he's a little out of touch with the mysterious ball of emotions that is Kimberly.<br />
<br />
Like when he decides that it is somehow critically important for me to understand "the nature of the defect we're correcting." and forces me to not only look at the mangled nose but spends horrifying minutes pointing out what's missing and explaining what we're going to add -- completely ignoring the way I was studying the ceiling and wondering aloud if it was going to hurt to vomit or if the leftover anesthesia from the cancer surgery would dull that pain too.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg45-cxpw_zP6fKzISiJez2jVDs4et8MNUW4kdr1Ikh5NPnR-0L9BkfzBMfJi8jdqp0a-1UqDPXNjTjhwkBDwgXn4EBzeTP49HhoVGdoS2T8VnBHXVIdmT2zOXHw9SUO9htbJpRHcXuG7A/s1600/Opie+and+I.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="481" data-original-width="393" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg45-cxpw_zP6fKzISiJez2jVDs4et8MNUW4kdr1Ikh5NPnR-0L9BkfzBMfJi8jdqp0a-1UqDPXNjTjhwkBDwgXn4EBzeTP49HhoVGdoS2T8VnBHXVIdmT2zOXHw9SUO9htbJpRHcXuG7A/s200/Opie+and+I.jpg" width="163" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ok, this is BEFORE the plastic surgery but <br />
even then I'm not exactly a sexy beast! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
But my favorite doctor/patient moment came the day after the surgery when I was sitting in my hospital room, hoping to go home. My entire face hurt, I had two black eyes, stitch marks the entire width of my forehead and down the side of my face reminiscent of Frankenstein's monster, what looked like a giant finger sewn onto the mess that used to be a nose and I was constantly wiping up uncontrollable globs of bloody snot...and the doctor, very seriously, told me I <b>SHOULDN'T BE HAVING SEX. </b>This was repeated in the written after-care instructions, basically shouted in bold all caps.<br />
<br />
I mean, maybe I should be flattered that my raw animal magnetism is so primal and powerful that it transcends physical appearance...or maybe I should be worried that he thinks Opie is some strange, snot-obsessed, zombie-loving pervert.<br />
<br />
Or maybe this was just a ploy to distract me from my own troubles...which was actually fairly effective because I have spent a disturbing amount of time wondering if he's issuing this warning based on some prior patient's post-operative problems and imagining all the horrifying things that could have happened.<br />
<br />
But the fact is, none of that really matters. What matters is, as I said above, he's supposed to be a genius and he's eventually going to give me my face back. So I hope he's having a great National Doctors Day and, to help facilitate that, I'm going to hold in all my questions and texts and pictures and let him enjoy the day in peace.<br />
<br />
Which could make it a loooonnnngggg day for Opie!<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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</div>
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
<b><br /></b>
<br />
<b><br /></b>It Is Interesting To Notehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00970970839897478501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166725385168948475.post-30766528654771868172019-03-26T13:31:00.001-06:002019-03-26T13:33:14.280-06:00Happy Birthday To Me<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yesterday was my birthday. Which, if you know me, is always a big deal because I have a love/hate relationship with birthdays.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghH8GGWcwKBNkh2QAGON3RMLsyn3ttQPXgr8yNBVwUkJ17zRivWrPLwzstRkmpB3Df_Sdj4BXgvbzK3rgPeknhULYPVH8BVg5-BZPhi8QNoVkAmUUehrDTHcWCxDt5b3dT-QtjzraN1yI/s1600/IMG_2141+%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1570" data-original-width="1600" height="196" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghH8GGWcwKBNkh2QAGON3RMLsyn3ttQPXgr8yNBVwUkJ17zRivWrPLwzstRkmpB3Df_Sdj4BXgvbzK3rgPeknhULYPVH8BVg5-BZPhi8QNoVkAmUUehrDTHcWCxDt5b3dT-QtjzraN1yI/s200/IMG_2141+%25282%2529.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">(Wore my FANCY slippers to celebrate!)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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</div>
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I hate the thought of getting older <span style="font-size: x-small;">(which is why I stay 28
year after endless year)</span> but I love having a day that’s all mine. I mean,
don’t get me wrong, I love Christmas and Thanksgiving and Easter and all other
days that bring the family together to celebrate…But, call me selfish, my
birthday is all about me. We eat what I want, where I want, people send me
cards to make me laugh and tell me they love me, and there’s ALWAYS chocolate
cake involved.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Perfection.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Which might make you think that, since I’m recovering from
the horrible skin cancer surgery this year, that it’s the worst birthday ever.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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You would, in fact, be wrong.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
First of all, friends of mine had an early party and gave me
a crown to wear, the following weekend Opie and I went to the Melting Pot for brunch
and bottomless mimosas, plus (more on this later!) he agreed to buy this house
we’ve had our eye on for years!<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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So, if you think about it, I’m getting a new house to go
with my new face this year – pretty hard to call <i>that</i> a bad birthday.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcPiCrdlCP0Smsz-GB9aW9jxvzj7kv8uYEH-ejmM8H1Vwx6dIwKofuheRArVzXJl-kOH3sFD8GpfBhepSxo-z7ia3VvjUSwtQ-rE_qsLAGG9DTUIqZz4cZ8Hw-YGfwuOu1gsEtifA3nQQ/s1600/Tim+Me+Fish+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1032" data-original-width="1071" height="192" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcPiCrdlCP0Smsz-GB9aW9jxvzj7kv8uYEH-ejmM8H1Vwx6dIwKofuheRArVzXJl-kOH3sFD8GpfBhepSxo-z7ia3VvjUSwtQ-rE_qsLAGG9DTUIqZz4cZ8Hw-YGfwuOu1gsEtifA3nQQ/s200/Tim+Me+Fish+%25282%2529.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">No, as a matter of fact, this isn't a picture of Jared with his first fish.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> It's not even a picture of Jared. It's me with my other brother, Tim,</span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> on a totally different fishing trip. Why would I reward Jared's blatant </span><br />
<span style="font-size: xx-small;">thunder theft with even the smallest modicum of attention?!</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Besides, the worst birthday ever was when I was about 8 and my
birthday fell over Easter Break so the whole family went on a camping and fishing
trip. And my brother Jared, who was 6 at the time, selfishly stole my thunder
by catching his first fish ON MY BIRTHDAY! I’m sure I still got presents and
cake and everything else but fishing was a big sport in my family and what I
really remember was a lot of oohing and aahhing and picture taking over my
brother’s accomplishment.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Jared tries to act like this was all happenstance, like his six-year-old
self had no control over the fickle fancies of fish but I’d like to mention
that even now, 20 some years later, he hasn’t really apologized.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I’m not going to say that I scheduled the forehead flap
surgery for HIS birthday this year just to get back at him…but it’s interesting
to note that karma has a long memory.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal"> <div id="fb-root"></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2KHYu6TJh7YfTJcnfisFoXWEWzUFs2P8f1fHNdDumJon4aBpuB_JYFFF8jnnk7SguJemblSjCzmtN7ygf1X26txrkQ6NqLy9tbKLgFilIcYyiIA6FshffdU1VgUYBdGEWCZkIMwg3quI/s1600/IMG_2143.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1474" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2KHYu6TJh7YfTJcnfisFoXWEWzUFs2P8f1fHNdDumJon4aBpuB_JYFFF8jnnk7SguJemblSjCzmtN7ygf1X26txrkQ6NqLy9tbKLgFilIcYyiIA6FshffdU1VgUYBdGEWCZkIMwg3quI/s200/IMG_2143.jpg" width="183" /></a>I should also note that my mom was here for my birthday this
year and she and Opie didn’t let the actual day pass without some special
attention. I had gifts and cards…Opie stopped on his way home from work to get
some delicious cupcakes and, even though he has the whole “I bought you a HOUSE
for the love of God” argument in his back pocket, he got me a Cancer Survivor
charm for my charm bracelet.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9eZ4kDySM7uTT8ESp0FQJ75_KExnbzSk8nKfOYuVY4lFGuLNmy5HF4rgQ0wK7VLefKIYRrrqsFS7_jxKIvfB6e9tCT9kUHDflhELsyRFwr16FZsYLo4nhbRukP6BWrfZMdQLwhsDow6Y/s1600/IMG_2145.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9eZ4kDySM7uTT8ESp0FQJ75_KExnbzSk8nKfOYuVY4lFGuLNmy5HF4rgQ0wK7VLefKIYRrrqsFS7_jxKIvfB6e9tCT9kUHDflhELsyRFwr16FZsYLo4nhbRukP6BWrfZMdQLwhsDow6Y/s200/IMG_2145.JPG" width="150" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9eZ4kDySM7uTT8ESp0FQJ75_KExnbzSk8nKfOYuVY4lFGuLNmy5HF4rgQ0wK7VLefKIYRrrqsFS7_jxKIvfB6e9tCT9kUHDflhELsyRFwr16FZsYLo4nhbRukP6BWrfZMdQLwhsDow6Y/s1600/IMG_2145.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, in short, cancer can suck it. The healing is continuing,
my face still looks REALLY bad but my spirits are pretty good, I’ve got the
best friends and family in the world, and any day with chocolate cake is a good
day.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Plus there’s really nothing like skin cancer to put that whole
“first fish” thing in perspective.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="fb-like" data-href="https://kimbo325.blogspot.com/2019/03/happy-birthday-to-me.html" data-layout="standard" data-action="like" data-size="small" data-show-faces="true" data-share="true"></div>It Is Interesting To Notehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00970970839897478501noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166725385168948475.post-10370830984872754652019-03-16T19:29:00.000-06:002019-03-16T19:32:50.438-06:00Sunscreen, Skin Cancer, & Spiritual Support<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Here’s the thing: I always wear
sunscreen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I mean, I ALWAYS wear sunscreen.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I wear sunscreen in the snow, I wear
sunscreen on the go, I wear sunscreen in the rain, I wear so much sunscreen it’s
insane!.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Sorry, that’s my Dr. Seuss version of the
sunscreen saga…which probably shows that I’m losing it a little but seriously, This
is a picture of me last July after 10 days in Hawaii:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs3Y6lj_a_Sy8dwi68nG3N7kGn5CI5dcpX5OGYhHJFYPC3y6DtBCWYMKs3LLQCd6ojWVng5Wn-QME23lGuaGa_6E6OYKOCiveM42B3ynDCe4o4Mu2uILaUhQAi8wKzneYQL0lrSRqjqUQ/s1600/me+hwaii+%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="764" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs3Y6lj_a_Sy8dwi68nG3N7kGn5CI5dcpX5OGYhHJFYPC3y6DtBCWYMKs3LLQCd6ojWVng5Wn-QME23lGuaGa_6E6OYKOCiveM42B3ynDCe4o4Mu2uILaUhQAi8wKzneYQL0lrSRqjqUQ/s320/me+hwaii+%25282%2529.jpg" width="254" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"> Do I look tan? No. You
know why? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">BECAUSE I ALWAYS WEAR SUNSCREEN!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">In fact, I wear so much freaking
sunscreen that I literally have a vitamin D deficiency and have to take a supplement
every day.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Which is why I find the fact that I have
skin cancer more than a little irritating. This is not noticeably helped by the
fact that, since I’m not in a life or death melanoma struggle, many people act
like I’m being overdramatic.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“It’s only basal cell,” they say. “I’ve
had that. It’s no big deal.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">It’s really all I can do not to whip out
my phone, call up a few pictures of the horrifying forehead flap procedure (seriously,
do NOT Google it!), and scream “REALLY? You’ve had THIS? And you didn’t think it was a BIG DEAL? Because call me a drama queen but I think TURNING THE TOP OF MY
FACE INSIDE OUT IS A BIG FREAKING DEAL.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I think it’s safe to say I’ve been handling
this entire skin cancer saga with my trademark stoicism.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Although here's a tip should you ever be
diagnosed with the no big deal basal cell carcinoma…if, when you’re getting the
original biopsy, before the dermatologist even has your test results confirming
that you have the dreaded skin cancer, she suggests that you should not get treatment in your home city but should instead drive an hour and a half to a
specialist, it is NOT a good sign.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Furthermore, if your husband offers to
take off work and drive the hour and a half to the initial consult with the
specialist, you should probably say to yourself, “Self,” you should say. “I
suspect there's a reason the dermatologist wants me to go so far away. This is
probably going to be a little more than your standard procedure.” And let him come with you.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Because when
you get to the specialist and he explains to you that he's going to basically
cut off your nose and then do this weird procedure in which he turns the top of
your face inside out to fix the missing nose, it is rather disconcerting for your husband
to get a call at work in which you are hyperventilating and unable to speak.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">It is equally is disconcerting for your
mother when, as you think you have yourself under control, you hang up and call
her and have hysterics all over again. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Speaking of hysterics, you would think
that a plastic surgeon who specializes in the whole face inside out technique
mentioned above would be used to people freaking out in his office. I mean, I
can’t imagine most people greet this news with jokes and laughter. However, my
plastic surgeon seems to think I'm crazy. Apparently, when he—without warning--shoves
a video of the inside out procedure into people’s faces, most do not respond by
saying “Oh, F*** me!” and showing the iPad away. Most people, according to the
young whippersnapper, fifteen year old Dougie Houser doctor, <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>feel better when they're educated about the
procedure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">And, while I have always believed in the
power of education, there are some instances when ignorance is, in fact, bliss.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">In any case, hour doctor/patient
relationship didn’t noticeably improve when he switched tactics and earnestly
explained to me that I need to remember that his number one priority is to
ensure my nose is reconstructed for maximum breathing potential. “Breathing is the
most important thing. It’s number one,” he said. “Appearance is number two.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">When I allowed as how those were equally
important issues in my mind, he interrupted me and said “No, no, no!” in a slightly
irritated voice. “You have to understand this. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Breathing is one, appearance is two.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">“No, no, no.” I responded in the exact
same tone. “You have to understand this: I can already breathe through my
mouth.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; mso-layout-grid-align: none; text-autospace: none;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Pretty sure neither of us left that
conversation feeling really heard.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Anyway, I’ve largely avoided talking
about the surgery on my blog but the procedures start Monday so it’s getting to
be unavoidable. And I’ll be honest, the next 2 months are going to suck out
loud…I have 2 surgeries this week, 1 in April, and, since they just found another
spot of skin cancer on my chin, probably a 4<sup>th</sup> in May.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">I say again, it’s going to suck out loud.
And I could definitely use some spiritual support to get through it all. In
addition, Opie could use some spiritual support to deal with me as I have not
exactly been a ray of sunshine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">So, Catholic friends, we would love it
if you could join us in an appeal to St. Peregrine, the patron saint of cancer
patients. Muslim, Protestant and Jewish friends, I concede that this could be
seen as blasphemous idolatry so would appreciate it if you could look past that
and join us in praying for swift healing. Atheist, agnostic, and pagan friends,
when you’re done shaking your heads at our superstitious nature, we’d
appreciate if you’d send positive thoughts and good energy to strengthen us in
the weeks ahead. As I’ve said before, I don’t think we have any Satanist
friends but if we do, even though I understand that this surgery could be a
great blood sacrifice to your dark lord, maybe you could still sit this one out
and, oh, I don’t know, send cookies instead. (I like macarons.)<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt;">Anyway, thanks everyone and I’ll keep
you updated when I’m up on my feet again.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />It Is Interesting To Notehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00970970839897478501noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2166725385168948475.post-61922133041591408762019-02-24T19:13:00.000-06:002019-02-24T19:15:28.044-06:00National Margarita DayIt's not easy to create the perfect margarita recipe..it involves trial and error. Sampling and more sampling. Taste testing...it's an incredible burden but my shoulders are broad and I managed to carry the load.<br />
<br />
More importantly, I managed to find the perfect recipe AND stay awake until Opie got home from work.<br />
<br />
Though, to be fair, not for too long after he got home.<br />
<br />
But, for better or worse, here's the recipe I came up with:<br />
<br />
1 cup Tequila<br />
1 cup fresh squeezed lime juice.<br />
1 cup Triple Sec<br />
2 shots of Agave nectar<br />
<br />
Mix together, serve over ice....add a splash more lime if you like, and voila! Perfect margarita!<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFCzYJ5X7fjFH36gqnNXF4N4vdTHE22D2hphzN_DoMrH396zhHZ3545_kJLRc6Qw1hfG4Ix-bbr61aHhPTR1fy8_eEZgCIFj6_7jxFSjGiC1HBjHpOXb6gk7aweAqJND109m6QXwuzD2k/s1600/Margarita+pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="768" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFCzYJ5X7fjFH36gqnNXF4N4vdTHE22D2hphzN_DoMrH396zhHZ3545_kJLRc6Qw1hfG4Ix-bbr61aHhPTR1fy8_eEZgCIFj6_7jxFSjGiC1HBjHpOXb6gk7aweAqJND109m6QXwuzD2k/s320/Margarita+pic.jpg" width="256" /></a></div>
<br />It Is Interesting To Notehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00970970839897478501noreply@blogger.com0