Dog Poop

The other day my husband found a black widow in our backyard. He put it in a jar and showed the kids — they thought it was pretty cool. I, however, thought about what would have happened if one of the kids found it or my husband wasn’t looking and the spider leaped in the air and attacked his neck depositing deadly poison into his veins. But none of that happened and in the end the kids had a cool thing to look at. I suggested they take it to school and told them about the time I took a turantula that my dad found to school. The kids nodded and smiled which meant they probably wouldn’t do it.

When we were in Spain at Retiro Park (Madrid’s “central park”) there were some protesters handing out fake dog poop. Yes, they were protesting against dog owners who don’t faithfully bag up their dogs waste and leave it in the beautiful park for all to smell and walk in. Anyway, the protestors were dressed like elves dwarfs and handed my kids the fake poop. Of course my kids got a kick out of that and it was the joke for a few weeks.

The spider died in the jar. No one ever took it to school. My son however, snuck the fake poop into his backpack and took it to school. So there you have it. I suggest taking a rare (sorta) black widow to school for all the kids to see and the teacher to tie into a nature lesson, but my son chooses to take fake plastic dog poop. Great nature lesson that must have been.

I know, I know

So it is the joke that I don’t really write in my blog, I just change my theme on my blog. I know I am changing it for yet the 500+ time. I can’t seem to find the right feel. How can a theme really express who I am? I work  hard at writing scintillating commentary on my life, and yet the themes don’t seem to support such brilliance. I am also too cheap to spend money to get a nice theme–and wordpress freebies are good but a bit limited. Okay, I just like to change things around. It is fun to see how the feel of the blog changes so dramatically through design and color. So you will just never know what my blog might bring you each day.

I am still bruised from my surgery. I look like someone gave me a right hook or would it be a right undercut? My boxing terminology is weak I admit. Anyway, I look like someone punched me. Although it isn’t as noticeable now so no one is leering at my husband anymore.

We are hoping to make some progress on our backyard. I briefly had another blog where I was going to show the progress. I actually had the blog for 2 years and posted probably 30 times. That was the blog I paid for. What was I thinking? Anyway, it is canceled and we are still working on our backyard. We have made some progress, we have a vegetable garden now and the trees have gotten bigger. We have gotten 4 heads of lettuce out of it so far and much more is growing. If I could find a great recipe for weeds we would be getting all our produce from the garden!

The weather is supposed to be cooler — yay, spring is back again. I also will be at a wine shop selling my jewelry this weekend. So busy weekend. I think my brain needs some physical labor to get my mind working again. Although I didn’t take tons of pain-killers I feel as though my brain is mush…

That Was My Last Post?

I had no idea I hadn’t blogged for so long. Sometimes I have all these ideas floating in my head and I convince myself that I blogged about them. Obviously I haven’t been writing about them and I couldn’t tell you what those floating ideas were now. Yes, I know I should have a notepad or recorder by my bed, desk, in the car, etc.   I talk myself out of my ideas at times. I will think oh yeah, I need to write about that — that is so funny. Then after about 5 minutes, I realize that it was only funny to me because I saw it happen or because I am strange. Who would think that is funny? So then I think about trying to make it funnier, and by then I have convinced myself that I wrote a funny post.

Writing. Really, do I need such grief in my life? Maybe my desire with success with my writing has taken all the joy out of writing. Maybe all the rejection letters have taken all the joy out of my writing. Yes, I know many wonderful writers have had tons of rejection letters until they got published. I can try to convince myself that I am the next one–that more rejection letters equal later success–but, what if I am just a lousy writer. Now I am not fishing for compliments here. I am honestly taking time to analyze if I am giving writing my best shot, or am I looking for quick success?

I received 4 rejection letters in the last 6 weeks. Writing well doesn’t come easy for me. School came fairly easy for me. All but one of my jobs were unchallenging for me. I played lots of sports and did fairly well. I guess now in life I am faced with something that I can’t accomplish and it drives me crazy. I can’t just study hard and pass the test. I can’t just practice and win the game. I have to depend on someone else to make an opinion on what I’ve done. I can follow all the guidelines and the article is still not good enough for the magazine to publish. I can try to write the funniest post I have ever written and there is no guarantee anyone else will think it is funny. So, do I want to write? Do I enjoy writing? Or am I going to give up because it doesn’t come easy for me?

“I love being a writer. What I can’t stand is the paperwork.” ~Peter De Vries

The Doctor is In?

I don’t go to the doctor much. Let’s see in High School when I had an epidectomy, 3 babies and just those routine woman visits. I’m not the kind of gal to run to the doctor every sniffle. So, when I was in horrible pain this weekend and my husband begged me to go to the doctor, I did not want to go. I have the internet — what do I need to go to the doctor for? I was already partially diagnosed and had a few more websites to go. But, I went.

I called the nurse on the phone and talked to her a bit about my back and leg pain. She asked me 5,000 questions and then maked an appointment for me. When I got to the doctor, the nurse asked me why I was there while she weighed me and took my blood pressure. Then the doctor came in and asked me why I was there. Why do I have to repeat this 3 times? Didn’t someone write this down in the computer somewhere? If I ever go back to the doctor again I have decided that I will give three different symptoms. To the lady who makes appointments: I need an appointment, my bursites is acting up. To the nurse in the doctor’s office: I think my tonsils need to come out, and to the doctor I will tell him both the other things and add constipation and a pain in my right baby toe. I don’t think it will matter. He will finally read my chart, see that I am allergic to amoxicillan and prescribe me something else–pain killer, anti-inflammatory, or some placebo and maybe the “catch-all” antibiotics so he fills he has made me happy.

So, I got the prescription and it sits in my pantry–just in case. I didn’t want drugs I wanted “Dr. House” to figure out why I was in pain and explain it to me so that I can prevent it the next time. Is that too much to ask? An actual diagnosis? No, I didn’t hurt my back and legs riding my bike. Something else caused my legs to be throbbing in pain. I know the difference between sore legs from overexertion and throbbing legs that just hurt. And I didn’t ride my bike for two days before the pain started. And my back and neck still hurt so now what? 

So now I will go to massage therapy where they will listen to my pain. Where I will hear soothing music and will feel better after I leave. I will not need to go to the pharmacy when I am finished. I will just be happy that there are people in this world with soothing hands–which will come in handy when my bursitis and little toe act up again.

Short People Got No Reason…

I decided to check out the new show You’ve Got the Look. Basically, it is another next-top-model-type show for 35 and olders. I thought it was for real women–meaning I thought there would be all types and sizes. I don’t know why I thought this. There was a lady who is 63 and looks great — incredibly photogenic and great personality–but the rest look like the typical model to me. Tall, thin, tall did I say tall? There is one girl who is 5’5 1/2″ and they almost didn’t let her through because she wasn’t tall enough. What is with the descrimination against the less than tall stature? We wear clothes also –don’t we? And honestly if only your face is on the cover of a magazine who is going to know how tall you are?

When I lived in Spain my height was never an issue. Actually Spaniards thought I was just right — even a little tall. At least the acting community accepts the shorter ones. Penelope Cruz, a Spaniard, is 5’4″ or so and no one thinks less of her. Of course then there is Paz Vega one of those tall Spaniards at 5’6 1/2″ although there is a debate on this. One website said she was 5’8″ and another website had two Spanish women arguing over her height. Apparently both had seen her in person in Sevilla.  Heather Locklear is 5’5″ and she wears a size -1 I believe. Sarah Jessica Parker is a whopping 5’4″ (which to me is the perfect height) of course she is never that tall because she is always in stilettos and is another one that is a size -1.

So overall, I was disappointed in the show. It was incredibly boring. Why I thought it would be remotely interesting I am not sure. I about choked on my chocolate ice cream when one of the judges called these models “mature models”. Mature? 35 is now mature? Isn’t 30 the new 20? So aren’t 35-year- olds only 25? And they were all very thin. Not anorexic thin but still very thin. I guess the thought will always be that clothes look better on a hanger than curves.