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The BOMB

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

My photo
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.)

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.

Sunday, July 23, 2017

Blind Date

Some days everything goes right.  Last Friday was not one of those days....

I awoke a tad bit late which meant I didn't get to leave as early as I planned.  That's okay--I  figured I could make up a little of the 14 hour drive by combinning pit stops and taking a couple country road short-cuts rummored to shave off drive-time.  If all went well I could still make it to the mixer for my 40th High School Reunion, albeit a little late.  If not, I would at least be in Crestview the night before the Reunion Dinner. Either way, it was all good.  I looked forward to seeing everyone--and with over 75 in attendance, this year promised to be a banner year size-wize.  Reaquainting myself with class-mates I hadn't seen since graduatuion day would be a blast from the past.

Driving country roads can either be relaxing or fraught with adventure. On this particular day the later ruled. However, my adventure allowed me to meet a really nice man--which is always a treat.  

Mark is gainfully employed--and a stand-up kind of guy if my first impression of him holds true.  While no sparks flew between us, he did think of someone he wanted me to meet:  an outgoing professional who loves meeting people, is a great listener, and  has high moral standards.  To say I was intrigued is an understatment.  Mark invited me to meet his friend,  with one stipulation--we must meet before July 28th. The requirement threw up a red flag; however, my curiosity won out, and for maybe the second or third  time in my life, I readily agreed to a blind date.   Mark gave me his friends contact information with a reminder that I needed to contact him before the 28th.

As I continued on my trip, I wondered at  the time limit.  Since my little adventure and time spent talking with Mark cut a pretty big chunk out of my time cushion, the rummored counrty road shortcuts weren't working out to shorten my drive time,  and I was in the area anyway, I decided to take a chance on missing the mixer and  pay a visit to Mark's friend.  Why wait until the end of the month.  There's no time like the present--especially when it comes to meeting a nice guy.

Unfortunately, Mark failed to mention his friend does not keep office hours on Fridays.

Disappointed, I continued on my trip.  But that odd meeting requirement started to niggle the back of my mind. My over active imagination supplied a number of reasons for the request, each successively more alarming than the last.

Perhaps it was some sort of a country backroad bewitching hour in which his friend would turn into a pumpkin, or an axe murderer--or worse, he would be getting married on the 29th.

Nice guy? Ax murderer? Prince Charming? Mama's Boy? Frog? Toad? I thought I would have to wait until to find out.

It turned out I didn't have to wait, and none of the far-fetched senarios supplied by my suspicious mind were remotely close to the reason for the deadline.

Rummor has it county judges will issue a warrant if you fail to make a court date--even if it is only for allegedly driving 80 mph in a 65 mph zone.

Although the last speed limit sign I saw was for 75 mph, my SUVs GPS said it was a 70 mph zone, and I've had such lacklustre success with driving rummors, I don't plan on putting this particular rummor to the test.  I'll make sure my blind date with the judge occurs before the 28th.