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Welcome to the BOMB.

The Blog Of the "Mother" of Bandit.
Bandit is my Hairless Chinese Crested--he's the "normal" one. I, on the other hand, am unrepentantly "pet-crazy." You know the type--the spinster who lives in the haunted house three blocks over with 72 cats...okay, so I don't have 72 cats, and my house isn't haunted--but my dogs wardrobe is better than mine! Need I say more? :~)
I've never been consistant at journaling, so the timing of my blogs will be sporadic at best. I just hope they are as entertaining to you as they are to me; however, be forewarned: Most of my blogs will be about The BaldOne. In spite of his Don King "do," I think he's just as cute as any of the Brothers B!
Now, if I can just remember not to get him wet--or feed him after midnight...

About Me

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My bags are packed and I'm always ready to seek out an adventure with Bandit and Moggy in tow. Bandit is my thirteen year old Chinese Crested, who I frequently call The Bald One or The BaldOne Boy (like he was one of the Baldwin Brothers). Moggy’s full name is Pip-Moggy. He’s my two year old gansta-resuce kitty. I couldn’t decide between Pip (which are the spots on die and domino tiles) and Moggy (or Moggie when I mistakenly thought he was a she), so I combined the two. Moggy refers to the British term for "cat of unknown parentage .” So in essence, I have an almost bald dog, and I’ve named my cat “Spot.”

Fun Stuff (I'm doing now or have done)

  • Artistic Attempts weekly (alternating between Painting With A Twist, That Art Place, and Peniot's Palette).
  • Bunko with the Belton Bunko Babes monthly.
  • Participating in the A to Z Blogging Challenge.
  • Spades and Liverpool Rummy with the Spadetts weekly.
  • The Mighty Texas Dog Walk, Austin (fund raiser for Service Dogs, Inc--they train shelter dogs to be Service Dogs, then give them free of charge to people with disabilities.)

Tuesday, September 19, 2017

Late to the Party.

I am a little bummed right now.  I found out a few days ago the Orthopedic Surgeon I saw is retiring this month, and won't be performing my knee surgery after all.  Tonight was the Meet and Greet for a couple New Guys taking his place.

The letter Baylor Scott & White sent out really pushed one doc and only mentioned the second. I figured one was seasoned and the other was fresh out of doctoring school--and might even still be in his Fellowship. I seriously thought about skipping the Meet and Greet since I'm ticked at BS&W right now, and have been toying with the idea of taking my health care dollars elsewhere. But, after calm reflection and careful consideration,  I decided in order  to make an informed decision, I probably should at least go meet the New Guys. 

Reluctantly, I got all gussied up, drove to Georgetown, and found the place (at least I didn't have to go all the way to the hospital in Round Rock). 

When I arrived I spied  two docs with their lab coats on.  I skipped over Junior Lab Coat, who I assumed might not have any experience  hence just the letter nod, and belined for Elder Lab Coat,  who I presumed was the doc BS&W promoted more heavily.

Before I could get to ELC, he broke from his cluster of hangers-on...and nearly plowed me over getting to one of the 4 buffet tables--each laden with about two dozen sumptuous party platters of a wide varriety of food.

Well alrighty. That helped me narrow my choice. I would under no circumstances be using ELCs services. I mean, if he'd run a prospective client over to get to the pigs-in-blanket...

Now that decision had been made, I  turned and retraced my steps.  I stood apart from the smaller group surrounding Jr doc.  I did not want to interupt. I'd wait patiently, at least by my standards, until a lull in the conversation and I caught his eye.

However, as the minutes dragged by, and my toes started twitching, I was totally ignored.

Did I mention I'm already ticked at BS&W?  My being ignored was NOT endearing them to me. Quite the opposite in fact.  It was irritating. If you want to irritate me, ignoring me is THE quickest way to do it.

As I stood there, I realized their little clique did not include any civilians--the three of them were all  employees--and at least two were doctors.  In fact, as I surveyed the room, I realized almost everyone in the room wore BS&W nametags. I wondered if  I might have crashed the wrong function. 

About that time, the Three Musketeers broke up. I quickly stepped forward before another hangerback could step in,  and when Jr introduced himself, I must have had a blank look on my face, because he told me the newly departed Blue Suited Musketeer was actually one of the two New Guys. 

Of course, Blue Suit was now nowhere to be found.

In the process of rescaning the room, seeking the elusive Blue Suit, I saw my retiring Orthepedic Surgeon.  I walked over with a smile plastered on my face whilst I plotted his demise.  I pulled myself together as a smile of recognition crossed his face, and graciously wished him a Happy Retirement.  As I killed time chit-chatting with him, he was very complimetry of the new surgeon, and assured me I would like him.

Finally, Blue Suit reappeared.  I bolted for him leaving my almost surgeon with mouth agape. I cornered Blue Suit and introduced myself, thrusting my hand into his. Enough with this dilly-dallying!  He appeared somewhat flabbergasted. When he reciprocated and told me his name, it was my turn to appear stunned--he was NOT one of the Two New Guys I had come to see.  Blue Suit admitted he is in fact an Orthopedic Surgeon; however, his speciality is shoulders. Wrong joint.

Even though I was running out of options, I remained resolute:  Run Me Over Doc (aka ELC)  is not now, nor never will be,  an option. Maybe if he had run me over for Caviar...

A woman overhearing my  conversation with Blue Suit butted in (she reminded me of me).  It seems the doc I came to see was still in the OR. Little Miss Information Clearinghouse went to grab his information and card for me. BS&W done good when they hired my doppelganger.

I left, with glossy promo and business card in hand, thinking the evening was a bust in reguard to my now-not-so-impending-knee-surgery. 

But, all is not lost.  On my way to the clinic I spied a Catfish Parlour. Might as well get some coleslaw!

At first, I was miffed that the new Orthopedic Surgeon missed his own Meet and Greet.  I mean, the whole point was to drum up patients.  And I really put myself out--I even put on make-up and jewelry.  And a dress!  Then I figured it was probably just as well that I didn't meet him under less than ideal circumstances--most Surgeons have a personality that I have a hard time tolerating on the Best of days.

But as  I sat in the restaurant booth awaiting my spicy fried pickle appetizer,  I realized, I might like this MIA Doc after all....

He's obviously a guy after my own heart if he's late to his own party. 

Wednesday, August 2, 2017

Freakishly Fast Feline

A friend tagged me on Face Book after viewing a video of a cute little kitten playing whack-a-finger with his human,  and said I need to play this game with Moggy. I replied I would likely loose a hand because Moggy's fangs rival a vampire and his claws are unclipped. (I should have liken them to Edward Scissorhands, but only thought of it just now.)

I didn't think anymore of the video.

Until tonight.

Once again, I'm so tired I fell asleep sitting up at the table eating my chunky salad. Why is it a chunky salad? Because all the veggies that were not pre-sliced, are cut very chunky--I'm too tired to make finer cuts. And it wasn't even a supper busy day.

I was without my Social Worker, so I did a few things outside my job rather than wait for her replacement to do them--but it wasn't anything I'm not capable of doing, or haven't done before. I slept well last night.  I recently had my Iron transfusion, and other than it getting close to time for my B12 injection, there really wasn't a good reason for me to be so tired. But, for whatever reason I fell asleep.

And Moggy decided to wake me up playing his version of "whack-the-hand-that-feeds-the-spoiled-rescue-kitty."

Moggy stood on the stool under the table--the one I was supposed to be elevating my tired tootsies on, leaned his upper torso onto my lap, and with "Scissor-hand" claws extended, in fast succssession he swiped first my tummy, then my hand, then my tummy again, then my hand again--all I saw was a blurr of white shooting out from under the table. As I came fully awake and started reacting and trying to bat his paws away, he started slapping his unsheathed paws down on my hands to trap them on my lap.

And because he's freakishly fast-pawed, he was successful. Every. Time.

Then Bandit tried to defend me and Moggy turned on him. My hands are sliced and lightly bleeding from The Game.  And attempting to separate The Boys.  

Moggy's a mean playing, little tiger-cat of terror. He's lucky Bandit tolerates him most of the time,  and I think he's cute...otherwise he would be returned to the Street Life faster than he can whack my hand.