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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 ten 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 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, July 28, 2015

Diva? Or Good Tipper?

Diva? Or Good Tipper? 

I entered Coronas de Oro and the Hostess asked, "Only one?"
(One of my pet peeves. There is no "only." Only indicates pathetic loser. The correct question is, "Table for one?" Or  maybe "Will anyone be joining you?")

However, the Hostess gained mega points when she asked if I wanted my regular booth. (I haven't dined here in a couple of months.) I did not want my regular booth because there was only one other couple in the restaurant--and they were right next to my favorite booth. I don't like to be crowded. 

I chose a different booth and the Hostess garnered even MORE points when she asked, "Diet Dr Pepper, right?" Remember,  I haven't been here in over 2 months. 

My waiter, a cute boy named Alex came to take my order and noticed I had sipped some of my DDP (less than 1/5) and asked, "Would you like me to top off your Diet Dr Pepper?" (The way to my heart--and a big tip--is to remember what I'm drinking and keep my glass full. And again, he's not waited on me in over two months.)

With my order I had a couple of requests:  a damp paper towel (the edge of the table was sticky and I didn't want a too wet or stinky rag so I didn't tell him the rationale for my request), and a steak knife (I ordered the Jack Wraps--their version of Las Casas White Wings). 

Dinner was yummy. As usual I didn't finish it there. When I started to slow down Alex brought a to go container without having to be asked. And then asked, "May I top off your Diet Dr Pepper? Or do you want a large to go cup of it?" (Silly boy!  I told him "Both.") 

His tip was 35%. 

The funny thing is:  off the top of my head I can name three other restaurants in Belton and Temple where the waitstaff know I drink DDP--and remember it even when I don't come in for a couple of months at a time. 

Diva? Good Tipper?

Perhaps a little of both. 



Saturday, July 25, 2015

Nurls

I love playing trivia and word-related games. I always learn something new and interesting. Today I learned a new word.

Nurl.

To flute, mill, or indent a series of ridges on the edge, as in some coins (quarters, dimes).  The alternative spelling has a silent "k" on the front (knurl).  

I shall add knurl to my storehouse of archaic trivia whose usefulness is usually limited to trivia and word-related games, and solving fluffy murder mysteries. (That is a reference to my love of "The Cat Who...." series by Lilian Jackson Braun--my guilty pleasure.)  

Perhaps I will be able to work it in my next conversation. You know, something totally natural like, "Oh, eeeew!! This quarter is so filthy I can barely see the nurls!"

Hummm...I wonder if my banker knows about nurls..

Monday, July 20, 2015

Johnny-on-the-Spot


GasTV annoys me to the extent I no longer get gas at Murphy Oil unless I’m traveling.  I know, not everything about GasTV is annoying. I love the YouTube of the Karaoke Couple—they are very entertaining—and I never fail to watch them when they sing; however, by and large, the loud barrage of GasTV advertisements hurts my ears and is extremely annoying.  

So annoying in fact, I once complained to the attendant—I’d had a rough day at work—Veterans, Doctors, and Coworkers alike demanded my attention.  Alarms clanged on the Ward all shift long. By the end of my shift I just wanted to go home and relax in a quiet place. On the way home I stopped at WalMart to pick up a few things. The self-register volume was so loud it hurt my ears.

Stopping to get gas at Murphy Oil was the last straw as GasTV assaulted my ears non-stop with a loud stream of advertisements. Usually, if I tap “No” I can pre-empt the questions and the screen will go blessedly quiet. Not this night—the pump screen continued to blare questions at me.

I complained to the hapless Attendant about the auditory assault by the store register and gas pump. The Attendant was quick to point out, Murphy Oil is not affiliated with WalMart—they simply rent out an out parcel on the WalMart parking lot. I simply started my own personal boycott of both WalMart and Murphy Oil. For the most part, I no longer shop either place. However, when I travel, they are consistent in their merchandise and quality of gas, so I lift my boycott when I travel.

This past weekend I drove to Florida for my 38th High School Reunion Dinner.  Combining the errands on one stop, I had occasion to grab a few travel essentials at WalMart ,and gas up the SUV at the nearby Murphy Oil.

As is my gassing habit, I placed the nozzle on auto fill and began the process of squeegeeing the front windshield. Within mere seconds of the nozzle clicking off, the Attendant’s voice broadcast over the system and asked “Is everything okay?  Do you need assistance?” 

I have been gassing up my vehicles for nigh on forty years.  Three of the jobs I had with AAFES (Army Air Force Exchange Service) were in Gas Stations (Duke Field, Eglin AFB, and Hurlburt Field).  I know how to gas up my car. And check the oil, filters, tire pressure, fluid levels, etc. Therefore, I must be throwing off a significantly decrepit vibe—either that or the attendant was super Johnny-on-the-spot.  Since I’m only fifty-five years old, I'm hoping it's the latter and not the former. However, it is nice to occasionally have someone offer to do something for me—especially when I’m having a slow moving day—and this was a day I was moving  a little slower than normal. It’s one of the hazards of being sedentary for anything length of time once you are of a certain age and have made the acquaintance of "Arthur."

Unfortunately the Attendant's  offer of assistance came a tad bit too late—when it came, the SUV was full and I was finishing the last side of the windshield.

Monday, July 13, 2015

Early Evening

I called it an early evening at Spades tonight (we actually played Liverpool Rummy) because Moggy kept me up last night zipping around, knocking things over, and attacking my feet. I needed to go home, pick up a few things in the yard, wash my hair, and go to bed before 10pm. 

I didn't make it. 

As soon as I got home I remembered I needed to get something at the store. I knew if I didn't go right then I'd forget it for the fourth time in two days. Since it was something I could get at WalMart or HEB I decided to run in HEB--I had just grocery shopped a day or so ago so there would be fewer temptations. It would be just a quick dash in for one item. 

By the time I arrived my list had grown to five. I had just a couple of dollars and didn't want to use my debit or credit cards so I pulled out a twenty from my mad money stash. The five items should be less than that and I could run through the express lane. I took my wallet "just in case." 

My five items quickly multiplied, I did not go through the express lane, it's almost midnight,  the yard is still a mess, my hair is still dirty, and I'm wide awake. 

I should have stayed and played more cards--then when I start yawning tomorrow it would be because I had fun tonight.  :~)



Sunday, July 5, 2015

Moggy's Foot Fetish

I think I've mentioned before that Moggy (my rescue kitty) appears to have a paw fetish. I originally based this on his fascination  with annoying the heck out of Bandit (my 10 y/o Chinese Crested) by lying in wait and swatting Bandits paws as he passed by. 

I confirmed it when Moggy started attacking my own feet after a much needed pedicure. At first, I erroneously thought it was just the scent of the bright color he was attracted to; however, As the lotion scent faded and the polish chipped, Moggy continued in his single-minded fascination of all things pedal. 

In dog fashion, he has chewed a pair of high heels I used to wear. He has carried my socks from room to room and even hidden a couple. And of course he continues to lick my toes and swat Bandits feet. 

If that were not convincing enough, today, I can testify beyond a shadow of a doubt that Moggy does in fact suffer from a paw fetish because at this very moment he is consumed with an obsession for the necklace I wear.  

Some might wonder what a necklace has to do with a foot fetish. Others might say he's attracted to the shape of the asymmetrical heart, or the shine of the metal. But I know better. 

You see, within the sterling heart "Silver Pet Print Texas" made for me is Bandits paw print.