The Different Christmas

Christmas was different this year. But different  doesn't have to be good or bad. Different can be just what it is:  different.

Covid played a large part in what made it different.  Traveling with two dogs and a cat is challenging enough without dealing with effects of a pandemic, and frankly, I didn't feel like dealing with the additional headache of Covid travel, so I stayed home.

This year I shopped different. No last minute, late night shopping for this girl, because the stores no longer offer late night shopping. I also did  very little online shopping--except for a few things I purchased earlier in the year. This year I became a kid again and  made most of my gifts at That Art Place (a local small business). By doing so, I stimulated my local economy, I supported a small business, and I thought about the people who would receive my handiwork--all as I de-stressed.  The de-stressing was very much needed and was not different.  The difference was rather than allowing the stress to continue to build, I took the time to destress.

I also shopped local artisans and shops. And I spent time chatting and getting to know the shopkeepers and artisans. Some shops I didn't even know existed prior to Covid.  Others I knew about but had never visited or had visited so long ago I had  forgotten about them.  Far too often I don't take the time to get to know people because I'm rushing off to my next stop  or errand. This year I made a conscious effort to shop different. 

Although I shopped small, I still shopped the box stores a little, but I tried to at least stay local. In the past, I would drive hours to go to a favorite box store if their demographics gave them a better selection of what I wanted. By shopping local, rather than online, I also avoided getting hit by most of the porch pirates. I say most because I still received a couple envelopes that were opened and slightly mangled. I'd like to think they got hung up in the processing machine or shoved in the box by an overworked postal worker, but I really think they were subjected to porch pirates looking for money or gift cards.

Christmas  itself was different because I missed seeing friends and family. Over the years, I've been blessed to be part of celebrations of several familes who are not blood related (except by the blood of Christ). The inclusion made the years I was unable to travel the 850 miles to Florida to be with my own family during holidays less sad. This year, the gathering was local and small (made even smaller just a day or so before due to a change of plans), but it was just as wonderful an inclusion comprised of different friends who are more like family than mere friends. 

We had a wonderful time exchanging gifts and playing games. I lost all the card games--I've almost reconciled myself to this losing streak--almost. But I slayed the trivia game--the old noggin' is full of useful trivia if nothing else. 

I even joined the gingerbread decorating activity this year.  The directions said, "read ALL the instructiins before you start."  I didn't.  I started decorating my gingerbread camper an hour-and-a-half before I was due to be at my friends house.  And I didn't watch the video that shared  assembly instructions and decorating tips. No surprise or difference there. I did skim a little, to try to determine the construction order. When I read "allow to dry for 2-3 hour," I laughed.  Ha!  I didn't plan for, or budget, 2-3 hours of drying time. So I made up my own order:  decorate the sides of the camper. Wrap the peices in press and seal on the plate. Take the unused icing to use for touch-ups and glue. The camper could dry during transet, dinner, games, gift exchange, and be assembled later. Although the sides were dry for the most part, I had a fear of smearing my work, and the camper seemed unstable, so I glued the top together qith icing and made a "teepee" camper.  

We ate our fill--and overfill--and still had TONS of food leftover for the rest of the week. Some things,  even in a year of different, like our collective proclivity of bringing more food, for one meal,  than we could possibly eat in a week, and my  procrastination and refusal to read instructions, remain unchanged. 

But the biggest constant in a year of different is this: no matter the crazinesss of the world around me, no matter the differences--both good and bad--I am definitely blessed.

I am blessed to have a roof over my head, food in my fridge, and clothes and shoes to wear. I am blessed with  coats, sweaters, and blankies to keep me warm. I am blessed  have a car to drive to my job with benefits that allows me to pay for my medical needs. I am blessed with a chaotic Zoo of pets that entertain me and show me unconditional love and companionship--even when I am at my most unlovable.  I am blessed with family and friends all over the world who check on me, love me, and encourage and support me. But most importantly, I am blessed because I have a Savior who left heaven, came to earth as a baby, lived a perfect life, and became my sacrifice when He died to free me from the bondage of sin, and allows me stand before God as if I were sinless. 

I am truely blessed. No matter how different this year has been. And while I try to remember to be joyful in all circumstances, I will not be sad to see the end of 2020 and the return of a normal Christmas in 2021. 

Covid Christmas Miracle

The Christmas Cards have a short notation, are addressed, stamped, and best of all, made it into the mail...BEFORE Christmas!!! 

As a bonus, they were mailed before the Post Office became really busy. In fact, I had my own packaging helper, for the ornaments I made.  Yep, the ornaments made it into the post before Christmas as well. 

I was on a roll. 

Then, I stood in a very short line to pay.  But when I turned around to leave, I saw the line stretched  all the way to the back wall.

Timing is everything.

After unloading my cards and packages at the post office,  I decided to stop by Bell Fine Arts to see what kind of goodies I could get for my last couple gifts. 

I bought a beaded mask holder.  It's purple. And It's for me.  So much for "Elfin'" today. 😷

Next, it was time to head toward That Art Place to repaint the cactus I broke. I painted a new cactus, a couple more ornaments, a Christmas tree, and a gnome--this one is 3D and does not have shoes for me to mistake as mittens. 

Except for the do-over cactus, I'm keeping everything for me.

My  "Elfin' and Selfin'" day quickly turned into a  "Selfin' and reElfin'" day.

I still need to a purchase a couple gifts.  But I have almost a week to find them, so I am ahead of schedule. 😂

Short line at the Post Office, the majority of the gifts found, bought, and in various stages of delivery...all in the year of the Covid Christmas--I'm claiming Christmas Miracle. 

Broken Pieces

This is a post from my FB page:

I made it to the staff meeting earlier this week with the ornaments I made for coworkers. Unfortunately. I forgot to give one of the gnomes to a fellow PCC--until today. 

And the cactus I made for another coworker didn't survive the fall to the tile floor.  I'm redoing one for her.  She won't receive it until after Christmas.  

I asked if it was salvagable, and the Staff at That Art Place said since the breaks were clean E6000 will work.  If it doesn't work I'll make a mosaic trivit or stepping stone, or something else with the broken pieces. 

If all else fails, I will display the broken original as a reminder that the broken and imperfect are still beautuful in the eyes of the Maker, and remain useful--even if the purpose they serve changes over time and circumstance.

The Next Eight Years

So, I finally got my new TDL. It's valid until my B-day 2028.  Eight years.  I have The Star so I am now official.   At least for identification purposes.  😉

I knew from the photocopy the  DMV gave me to use until the USPO delivered the actual license I was kind of mad looking (as in Hatter-ish, not the emotion).   But it's even worse IRL--and I have to live with this photo for the next 8 years.

I may have to lose it just so I can have it replaced.

This photo is more than Mad-Hatter-ISH.  I look absolutely, positively, PSYCHOTIC. Imagine a female version of Charles Manson. 

She would look more normal.

On the brighter side--my hair, which was shellacked in place, looked great this year--until the raised part of the license ran through it and altered the visual.

Sometimes I wonder why I even bother. 

If I were a conspiracy theorist or paranoid I would beleive the universe conspired against me. LOL.  

I've rarely been pleased with any of my photos, but this is one is beyond bad. Even by license or passport standards. It's bad enough to make babies cry. 

And this 61 year old adult. 

Did I mention this is my official state-issued identification for the next EIGHT YEARS?!  If I come into your store please don't ask for my ID-unless I'm planning a mass-casualty event, I will not look like my ID. 

I hope.

 

Frenzzled.

Frazzled?  Frenzied?  Today I am both. I am Frenzzled.

Richard and I were the only Patient Care Coordinator's for Temple (and for Waco during the morning). From the time I walked on to my war zone ward (it's currently in a state of deconstruction),  I put out fires and corrected other people's mistakes--and a couple of my own mistakes. I worked through a grazing lunch at my computer. Richard (and Aretha in the afternoon) took care of a lot of my extra stuff, and I still stayed over an hour late.

After  work  I had two errands that could not be put off until Friday: spend ten dollars Khol's Cash  before it expired tonight, and pick up Thanksgiving Treats for the FurKids.

Khol's parking lot was overflowing, so I headed to PetCo and decided I would return to Khol's after I fed and pottied my hooligans. 

I ended up feeding and pottying them, and promptly  falling asleep sitting straight up on the sofa. I woke up a little after 9pm with a crick in my neck. Off to Khol's I raced.  I had a little les than an hour to spend my Khol's Cash. I had three items in mind.  The first one I found would be the lucky winner.  Looking at the store map, I saw the layout had changed since my last shopping trip--and I developed the route I would take to minimize distractions. 

I walked through the door with just enough time to run my route before they closed.

They didn't have the three items I went for; however, en route to the final item I spied something else that I needed--but which technically could wait since it is cheaper elsewhere--except I had Khol's Cash and only a few minutes left to spend it, so I grabbed the item, without checking the price, and trotted off to the cashier. 

The Cashier said it  was on sale--half off.

Between my Khol's Cash and the sale  I walked out of the store with $20 worth of merchandise...for free. I couldn't even use the percentage off coupon or my rewards money, because they weren't needed. I love a deal.

Now I'm wired. 

I could be a really good BiPolar or junkie--when I find a good shopping deal it's like a high that requires more buying and deal finding. I totally "get" addiction and chemical imbalances. Thankfully, I also can usually practice a little restraint, self-control, and delayed gratification.

Usually.

It's harder during the holidays when everyone around me is frenzy-shopping as well, because it's contagious. 

However, the frenzy is fast becoming replaced with the frazzle and I'm winding down.

That's a good thing since I'm covering  the whole hospital by myself Thanksgiving. 

"People Like You"

This month everything expires. Tags, Registration, Insurance (car and home), Driver License, med refills (Moggy, TheGirls, and me), Magazine subscriptions. You name it, if it has an expiration date, the gig will be up by the end of this month.

A panic attack tried to rear its ugly head as I remembered to check my Nursing Licence--I usually procrastinate and do most of my Continuing Education for the two years in October.  Or November.  Depending on my procrastination level. 

I thought I might be in good shape this renewal because I've been reading a lot of Covid articles, but I didn't think I've done a full 20 hours. When I checked it out,  I found my RN license is the only thing not expiring this year. And my CEs are in tip top shape. Next year my renewal will be drama-free.

That's a good thing since I had all the drama I care for this year at the Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV).

Texas is in the process of moving toward a Real ID. If your TDL or state-issued ID card has a star on it, you are good to go.  Your renewal is routine. 

If you are starless, that would be me, you have to gather all kinds of documentation to prove who you are and you live here legally. The acceptable documentation includes your Birth Certificate, Social Security Number (SSN),  utility bill, passport, etc. 

The website incorrectly stated if your SSN is in the system, you don't need to have a hardcopy of it, and if you don't have a copy of your Birth Certificate, you can use your passport. Even an expired passport.  

I started gathering the items several months ago.  I even filled out the application on line and made a hard copy to sign in person at the DMV. I was ready. Early. 

I placed my packet of documentation in a safe place.

In my minds eye I can still see the packet.  I just can't see its location.  And November is almost over.

So I regathered documents and assembled a new packet. This time I added my pasport.

In my local DMV parking lot they have errected banners to inform the public they are only renewing TDLs by apointment.  The phone number listed was busy, so I went to the website to make an appointment.

The website is non-functional.

The DMV banner also said to email them if you experience problems with the site. This tells me the DMV already knows there are problems with their site.

I sent an email, stating "I'm in the parking lot now."

I received an automated response saying they would call me within 7 working days.

Not good enough.  So I decided to try and bluff my way in. I went to the door, and was covid questioned and temp checked. Then they asked, "What time is your apointment?"

My bravado failed and the stress tears and blubbering explanation ensued:

Website not working...lost packet...upcoming medical proceedures....only day left this month I can do this...

(I'm not normally a crier.  And I'm not hormonal. So I attribute this chink in my armor to the stress of, at that time, upcoming medical tests--since this visit to the DMV, I'm happy to report all medical tests, procedures, and follow-up appointments have been completed and the results have come back clear.)

"It's okay, we've got an appoinment coming up. You'll be seen today. Have a seat."

An hour later I was called back for my appointment.

That's when I learned the requirements have changed. 

I can not use my passport  because it's expired (the rule change is not yet reflected on the website). And, although they already have my SSN on file, they still require the hard copy because when they entered it, they entered it verbally.  I'm still puzzled over that one since my last renewal was done online. But it wasn't worth the debate, so I skipped that conversation and started back on the fact that I'm rapidly running out of time.  My 

 chink grew.

Tears and Blubbering, Round Two:

"But we can use a W2."

Hope.

I searched my documents and found my 1040.

"No. W2 only."

Really?!  My 1040 is a tax document with my full name and full SSN--just like my W2.  It should be acceptable

Right?

Brick wall.

Round Three:

"Here's what we'll do, we'll make an appointment for the Saturday before Thanksgiving. It's the last Saturday of the month that we're open. That will give you time to obtain a replacement birth certificate and a copy of your W2."

"Saturday?!  Saturdays are an option?"  The website does not advertise this tidbit of information. . 

"Yes. We do that for 'people like you'."

People like me?

Surely she did not mean it in a derogatory manner because I procrastinate and am a forgetful scatterbrain. 

True, I am a procrastinator and I misplaced my original packet.  But don't I get credit for starting my packet early?  Also,  I gathered the documentation from their list of approved examples.  Even though I misplaced the original packet, I was still able to reassemble a packet using the alternate documentation--and I accomplished this prior to the deadline. For me, being within the timeframe without requesting an extension is early.

So, did she mean people like me are reourceful? 

Maybe she meant people like me are gainfully employed with a weekday government job, and need weekend hours to conduct business with other governmental agencies.  

Or perhaps people like me are tax payors. 

I'm going with all of the above: 

People like me are gainfully employed, tax-paying, legal resident/citizens who manage to meet deadlines despite their personal flaws and being supplied faulty information. 

Whatever she meant, it's all good now. I have my temporary license, albeit with psycho eyes, and I anticipate the hard copy arrival by the end of the month. 

And, during the process of writing this blog post, I've remembered two more renewals:  my PIV Card at work expires February 2021. Yippee.  Big Brother has even more red tape and poorer communication of procedural changes than the great State of Texas. 

And I've also received yet another notification that my SUV warranty expires next month...

Suckered Into An Early Christmas

I love Christmas. The gathering of Family and Friends. The carols, hymns, kids productions, and nativity celebrating the birth of Jesus

The gift giving and gift receiving. The tree. The traditional and not-so traditional food. The smiles and courtesy of stranger toward stranger.

I even look forward to reading the beautiful cards and newsy newsletters outlining the achievements of the pseudo-perfect lives of acquaintances, family and friends.

However, between Halloween and Thanksgiving I'm pretty much a hum-bugger. I don't like to rush into Christmas by bypassing Thanksgiving.  "To everything there is a season..."

Having said that, I also realize if I don't purchase Christmas stuff now, it will likely not be available after Thanksgiving, so when I saw a box of beautiful Christmas cards in HEB last week I snapped 'em up.

Those of you who know me, know I have good intentions; however, my follow-thru is sometimes less than desirable, and Christmas sneaks up on me. There have even been times the cards have been mailed the day after Christmas.  And several years I just kept them at the ready until the following year.

However, I am determined to break that cycle in this 2020 Covid Year.  Everyone needs an old fashioned card.

Having made that decision, I took the box of Christmas Cards to work. It is my plan to address 5-10 cards each day between now and Thanksgiving  (either after my tour of duty or on my lunch half-hour), and actually get them in the mail the day after Thanksgiving.

That's the plan. 

Tonight I actually got a fairly good start: I wrote short notes and addressed about ten Christmas cards. It took no time at all after my coworkers left for the day, and I wasn't distracted by a TV or Facebook like I am at home. Good plan.

The sad part was realizing many of my contacts have passed away.  Or are my physicians.  Others only have email, telephone numbers, or old addresses. (So if you want a Christmas card from me, you need to send me your current mailing address--before Thanksgiving--so I have time to purchase more cards.  Send the mailing address by email, text,  or post it on my FB page with me only as the audiance.) 

I do not use messenger.

All of that to say:  This  year I started Christmas before Thanksgiving. 

To compound my error, I got suckered into listening to Christmas carols on the drive home tonight.

How?

I heard an advertisement that Sirus was free between now and Christmas, so I checked it out--usually it's just a come on. They actually had several of my favorote stations to choose from: 70s, Broadway, Big Band,  Christmas, Sinatra, and Hallmark. I can reveal this because  I'm secure in my musical geekiness.  I also listen to the family friendly comedy channel.  I wish Sirus also had a Barbershop channel.

And a BBC story channel.  

I am still bah-humming during this inbetween time so I didn't even consider listening to the Christmas Carol channel.

I know the Hallmark TV channel is chalk-full of unabashedly sappy Christmas movies. Nevertheless,  when I saw the Hallmark radio channel listed I thought, "Maybe it's a story channel" and I tapped it--exposing my Pollyanna naïveté. Was it a sappy story channel?

Nope.

It's a Christmas Carol channel in disguise.

And the carol playing was one of my favorites. As was the next. And the next. Before I knew it I had taken a scenic drive, gone through the Chick-fil-A drive-thru for dinner, and was less than one carol away from home. Every Christmas carol had been a sappy schmaltzy version of one of my favorites.

Just like the Hallmark channel  movies.

And then the song I was wanting to hear, the song that always puts a smile on my face, came on. Only it was the Gwen Stephani version--which I really liked--but I had my heart set on hearing my all-time favorite verson of "Jingle Bells"--the dorky way Meg Ryan sings it in "Sleepless in Seattle."  

"...horses, horses, horses..."

So I got suckered into Christmas before Thanksgiving this year. And when I arrived home I found packages stacked outside my door.  Kind of like a Christmas tree. 

It appears there is no turning back.

Merry Christmas! 

Before Thanksgiving.

Checks and Balances

Checks and balances can be annnoying, and tedious; however, they can also prevent mishaps.

A while back I had an RFA (Radiofrequency Ablation) of my Right Lesser Saphinous Vein  (calf down to ankle). Today I went in for the same procedure on my Left Greater Saphinous Vein (left groin down the whole leg).

Basically in an RFA a thin catheter is inserted in the vein and radiofrequency energy (rather than laser) is directed through it.  The electrical current generates temperatures of 120°C to destroy the vein. 

In preparation,  two hours before my procedure, I smeared a thick layer of lidocaine cream along the vein line, then wraped my leg in press and seal (so much easier than the saran wrap they tell you to use in the "at home prep directions"--only, I was out of the snowman press and seal I wanted to use--I even went to HEB looking for some on Sunday--so I had to use my plain press and seal). The press and seal keeps the cream on the skin and off the clothes. 

In the procedure room they follow up with injectables--these shots and the advancement of the catheter are the most painful--like an annoying Auntie that keeps pinching your cheeks, or a pesky bee stinging you repeatedly.

Anyway, during the Time Out I'm giving all my info:

Name, DOB, my understanding of the procedure...yada yada yada...and I started to drift off as they recorded my responses. It didn't help that I kept trying to doze off while I read my book during the lag time between check-in/consenting and the RN site prep--they were running late due to other circumstances, and the "15 minutes" turned into a little over 45 minutes. 

When the Vascular Surgeon asked, "What is the site of todays procedure?"

Without thinking, I tapped my Left leg and popped off "Right Hip." 

As soon as the comment exited my mouth, I realized my mistake.  My eyes  flew open. The rest of the  heads in the room popped up like a life-sized "Whack-a-Mole" game. Their eyes swiveled toward me. Everyone was yelling at the same time.

They:  "No! No! No! No!" 

Me:  "No, I mean my LEFT--the one I prepped--I am pointing to it--you know, my OTHER right."  And so they would know I was fully awake and in control of my faculties, I reminded them, "You already did the right a few months back." 

They calmed down when they realized I was actually taping my Left Groin. 

I did not do it on purpose. It was an honest mistake. But I was encouraged to see their reaction, because it meant they were paying attention. 

But, it really was kind of comical.  

The iformation was also written on the whiteboard. Not my name, but the time, procedure, and site:
1500
RFA
LGSV

On a serious note, that's how mistakes are made: tired, stressed, overworked, inattentive folks inadvertently say the wrong thing and, if the checks and balances are not in place and  being followed, mistakes are made. 

Today I'm glad for the time-consuming and repetitive checks and balances. 

Missed Due Date

I love the library but if I don't keep the loaner books and audio tapes in a special container--the small recyclable HEB shopping bags--I tend to mix them in with my personal books.  Which leads to forgetting the due dates, and fine payments. Then I feel bad about wasting my hard earned money, and I lose the escape I get when I read (or listen while traveling).  It's a vicious cycle.

For my last road trip. I thought I downloaded the audio books to my phone, where my library app is located.  But when I hit long stretches of lonely highways with sketchy phone service, I lost the ability to listen to the books.  Seems the books were not downloaded, they were streamed. 

Streaming takes up way too much of my phone data.  I was not pleased. Not being able to listen on lonely streatches of highway sort of defeated the purpose.  So my one attempt at borrowing audio books from my local library, while technically successful (I borrowed six books),  was infinitely more stressful than rewarding. So much so, I returned all six books after only listening to one book. 

But more than the dislike of technology, I love the feel of holding real books, and my prefered mode of purchasing books is to actually go to a brick and mortar bookstore and browse.  Sometimes for hours. I rarely leave without a ton of books.  

Because the book stores aren't currently allowing for browsing due to Covid, I resorted to my second favorite mode of book purchase and ordered a real book online and awaited its delivery.  The transaction occured October 15th. 

The book was cheaper on a competitor's site so the purchase did not earn me Rewards,  a donation to UMHB was not made, and the delivery date was scheduled eight days out, rather than next day.  That made the due date October 23rd.

I normally have good luck with this site, the carrier they used for this purchase, and I have close to one hundred books in my "To Read Stacks," so I chose the cheaper book with longer delivery time. No big deal. 

Until it became a big deal. 

The carrier used for the transit of my book is usually pretty good about meeting their promised delivery date. 

Not this time.  

Even with their allotment of eight travel days they missed their deadline. Frankly, eight days is twice as long as this carrier usually takes--even at book rates.  But now it's almost a month overdue and I still don't have my book.  

Why? 

I have a theory:

Everyone along the travel route is reading my book. 

No. Really.  It took them two weeks to read my book before it left Akron.  Either several people read it, or the one slow reader kept forgetting where he left it. 

Saint Louis must have faster, or more considerate  readers, because it only took them one week. 

Hazlewwood (Missouri) and Memphis,  only kept my book for a day each. I'm not sure if it's because the book didn't find an audience, they had already read it when it was first released, or they were accomplished speed readers.  Is the Evelyn Woods Speed Reading Course still taught?

Or maybe they were too intimidated to delay its transit because it has been flagged with a Tracking Research Case.   

Eh, probably not, since the case was opened ten days ago and my book is still "in transit."

The good news: It is finally making a little progress--it showed up in Dallas on Friday the 13th. 

I'm wondering if it will make it to me by Thanksgiving, or if I need to take a short drive up the Interstate to retrieve it before Dallas starts to read it. 

If they haven't already started reading it. 

I'm always happy to fill out surveys and rate businesses,  especially when I'm pleased with the service or product; however, the carrier really doesn't want me to fill out their survey or rate them this time.  I'm unsure which of us would be less pleased--them with my critique, or me with my grossly overdue book. 

It's probably a good thing this was not me returning a late  library book--the fine has already escalated to more than the purchase price...

Of a new hard bound book that I could be reading right now.  

Life Lesson From The Girls

The Girls of course are my Mother and Daughter, dose of Double Trouble,  AKC Champion Hairy Hairless Chinese Cresteds: Kenzie (Mom) and KatiE (Daughter). 

Although Bandit, my True Hairless Chinese Crested was a tad bit prissy--he really disliked dirt--The Girls put the capital in Diva. And their prissiness has never been more apparent than after a visit to the groomers.

I thought the extra hair they've been sporting since the last professional groom was unwelcome and hot. It was so long it was curling.  The straighter hair on their crest (head),  plume (tip of the tail),  socks (feet), and the fringe on the ears, meeting the curls where they should be hairless, made them kind of scruffy looking. I really couldn't call them my Show Girls--well I could, but people would think I'm living in their past glory days at best--or downright delusional. Truthfully, their Best In Show and AKC Retired Champion titles should be evident--not something that requires explanation.  

But more than their looks, their personalities seemed to shine a little dimmer with the extra hair.

It seemed like they felt they are a little bit less special than they are. 

I also thought they might be hot since they spent less time outside, and more in the air conditioning lying on the cool floor tiles. Or maybe the blues set in--blues as in depression, not blues as in cool tunes--since their gait seemed a little less springy. Although, when I pulled out the tandum leash their bounce picked up a tad. They like going out on walkies.

But the bounce they would get for a simple walk is nothing like the spring in their step today! In fact, all night long, after their day at the Doggie Spa (just the groomers)  they pranced around the house. When they went outside to go potty, they did their normal racing around--with plumes flying in the wind current they created, but after they tuckered out some, they still managed to strut around the yard. And I do mean strut--just like they did when they were in the show ring.

The Girls have taught me a valuable life lesson:
Occassional pampering is good for the attitude.

Overreaction--Or Stranger Danger?

Growing up Mama drilled us over and over to ensure we understood the dangers of the world.  Maybe I watch entirely too many crime dramas. Or maybe I learned the lessons a little too well--if that's possible--I mean, not  every  stranger is dangerous. And not everyone offering "free candy" has nefarious motives...right?

Today was a beautiful day for running errands. I wasn't expecting anything to go wrong. 

But I got off to a late start--that's normal for me.

Then I took the wrong insurance card to get my SUV inspected--maybe not normal, but not all together unexpected.

Frustrated beyond belief, I found every card going back to my past SUV.  

I also had the card for the upcoming period which starts on Monday. I just couldn't find the card that proves I have coverage today.

I even checked the emails downloads, and photos on my phone since I have started trying to keep a digital copy handy due to my propensity to misplace the copy I make for my wallet.

And the copy for the file folder I keep in my glove compartment.

And the copy for organizer that used to wrap around the sunvisor. I'm pretty sure I tossed the organizer when the Texas heat relaxed the elastic years ago but when I make my copies, I forget I no longer use the visor organizer and make a copy for it. With all those copies, you'd think at least one would make its way into my SUV or desk file at home. 

Not on this day. 

By the time  I finally found the policy with the correct dates, I was frazzled--the guys at the Ford Dealership didn't even have to remind me of their courtesy fridge--I went straight for the Diet Dr Pepper I desperately needed to calm my nerves. Then I settled in for a short read in my current legal thriller.

It was a very short read.

Since they extended their Saturday hours and moved into their new garage, I rarely have time to drink all of my DDP. In the past, I've powered through at least two each visit. They may have resorted to hiring more mechanics and techs just to keep their DDP bill down. 

Even with the late start, and the time spent finding the correct insurance policy, I still had time to run another couple errands.

However, when I arrived at WalMart the parking lot was jam packed. The DDP wasn't fortifying me enough to face that crowd.

So I took my book to a very early dinner. Or very late lunch. I'm not sure what the afternoon equivalent of brunch is, but at Denny's or IHOP my meal time would have qualified for the Early Bird Geezer Special.

Immersed in my book, I was caught off guard when he surprized me with his quiet stealthliness.

In fact, I may have startled a little.

And gasped out loud. 

Okay, truth be known, my shriek could have awakened the residents of a nearby cemetary. 

But I feel my reaction was totally justified--who could blame me? I was not expecting any one to materialize from out of no where just behind my left shoulder.

What well intentioned person sneaks up on someone from their blind spot?!

Still, I may have over reacted a tad bit when the candy bearing gorilla appeared at my window at Sonic.

After all, it is Halloween. 

Thunk Thoughts

I'm just sharing a thought or three  I've thunk the past couple days.  They are not deeply profound, reflective, or even remotely interesting to anyone other than myself. I only mention these thoughts now because they have not made the journey from my brain to my fingers and ultimately onto my page--likely because they've come to me as I've driven to work. 

First,  the view during my morning commute went from glorious sunrise to total darkness over night. In truth it was more gradual, and I knew the darkness was on it's way; however, despite this foreknowledge, every year I'm amazed at the change.

Second, other than Christmas and my Birthday, my favorite day of the year is Fall Back Sunday. I love FBS. I practice for FBS every day I set my alarms. Not being a morning person, I start the alarms 1-1 1/2  hours before I absolutely have to get up. I wish FBS was the only Time Change we ever had--as you may have deducted, Spring Forward Sunday is my least favorite day of the year. Followed closely by any non-holiday Monday.

Finally, my propensity for procrastination, coupled with the application of my lead foot to the car accelerator, does not bode well for my bank account. So far I've avoided meeting our Boys in Blue--or outrun them under cover of  night--but it's a whole lot easier when I can see 'em lying in wait. 😉

That's it. Nothing profound or impressive about my thunk thoughts. Perhaps now I've acknowledged these thoughts they will stop visiting my head unbidden and I can move on to something more profound or intersting.  

At least until the week or two before Fall Back Sunday next year.

Bumper Stickers

Back in the day I had two bumper stickers on my car.  I loved those bumper stickers. I thought they were the funniest stickers I had ever seen. Looking back on them through my 2020 eyes, I now see them as pretty lame. 

But before you judge me remember something you think is funny or cool this year, is going to one day reveal itself as lame. 😉 

Think I'm wrong?

In about fifty years take a gander at the outfit you chose to wear to your high school prom,  or revisit your hairstyle in  any number of your yearbook photo ops.  What were you thinking?!

Can't find your own photographic proof? Google '80s hair style trends.  Think: big hair or bow head. Or for something less tangibly lame, try listening to a movie filled with  '70s Valley Girl or '90s Surfer Dude Speak.

Really.

I used to hate the word really. Really was used as a statement. A question.  Expressions of shock and disbelief. Agreement. Boredom. A conversation extender. And really was really over really used really just really about really every really other really word.

Really.

I mean...like really...like totally...ya know?

Don't let me get started on like and ya know. Or any other number of really annoying words or phrases.

But not all trends were lame. Some really (ugh) were cool. They escape me at the moment since I can't get really out of my head. But I'm sure there was something cool...I mean...really, 'cause the times shaped me, and I'm like really cool. 

But I digress. 

I had two funny bumper stickers.  One read: "Don't honk--I'm peddling as fast as I can!"  Sort of ironic since I now rely on cruise to keep my speed in check. And at one time I wanted to be a cross-country race car driver. Like Burt Renyolds in "Smokey and the Bandit." Okay, so that wasn't a cross country race as much as a cross country attempt to out run the law, but I didn't think anyone would get my ocean crossing road race reference.

 "The Great Race."

Talk about good clean comedy. It's one of my all-time favorite Tony Curtis/Jack Lemmon flicks. It's classic funny. 

The second funny bumper sticker read: "If you don't like the way I drive--stay off the sidewalk!" Again kind of ironic since I parallel park  much better and quicker than the park assist feature on my SUV. And except the lead foot thing, I'm a pretty safe drive.

Well, I at least keep it betwen the navigational lines on the roadway.

Usually.

And I never drive on the sidewalk. 

Until today.

In my defense, it really wasn't  a sidewalk. It was a curb.

And the curb poked out and crossed into my straight line path.

I really think the designer of our new Chick-fil-A's drive thru should rethink the way they have laid out the vehicular trajectory of that inner lane.

I couldn't even hightail it outta there if I dared.  So I just drove right up to the window like nothing odd had occured.

Besides they probably have that little fiasco on a blooper tape.  Even if they don't, they had my order. And my money. And my name.

Maybe I need to order some new,  prophetic bumper stickers. 

I could blow up (as in enlarge, not "go boom") a couple of my favorite fortunes from past Chinese  cookies:

"Your feet will tread on many soil." Recieved days before a planned multi-country trip.

And my favorite fortune...

"You will have a comfortable old age."

I love to travel. I really like comfort.  Now I'm just waiting to see when I start inching toward oldish. 😉

While they aren't necessarily funny, they aren't lame either--at least not today. 

I can see them on my bumper.  

I Finally Saw The Loophole

I'm not usually a lover of "loopholes." I'm of the mindset that people should do what they say they are going to do and mean what they say.

Be transparent. Be truthful. Everyone should be treated equally with rules evenly applied across the board. There should be no loopholes. 

Except today I am thankful for the loophole I finally saw.

If you read my previous post,  Deferred Entitlement,  you know I was furious after  I received notification that, as a federal employee, I would be forced to endure a tax deferral I neither requested nor wanted. In fact, I  feel this tax deferral will ultimately harm the very people it was purportedly designed to assist.  I was so angry I did not read the whole  email. As a result  I missed the loophole.

But even without reading the whole document, I should have known there would be a loophole. Especially since the government is involved.

For the remainder of the year everyone with gross earnings below a certain threshhold each pay period will have a deferral of their OASDI (Old Age, Survivors, and Disability Insurance) tax.  This is the tax that funds Social Security. On the suface the deferral seems like a good thing for folks stuggling to make ends meet thanks to Covid-19 and the resulting shitdiwns and job losses.  However, it's just a deferral until the first quarter of next year, at which time the OASDI tax withheld will be doubled until caught up. 

Politicians in this election year are teasing us with the possibility of the deferral being forgiven next year...if they remain in office. 

Humphft...the government reducing taxes?  First, IMHO every politician has an agenda and second, their promises--especially election year promises--are not worth the hot air it takes to speak them into existence.  To say  I'm skeptical the deferral will be  forgiven is a gross understatement.

But there is a loophole.

The loophole is clearly stated. I didn't even have to seach for it. I just needed to calm down long enough to be able to realize it was there.

This tax deferral will not be applied to anyone whose gross earnings are above a certain threshold. Unfortunately my gross earnings are normally less than the threshold  so it really won't help me.

Normally.

However, due to  working overtime at the Covid Screening Tent, my gross earnings, this first pay period of the deferral, are above the threshold.  In fact, my OASDI withheld this payperiod was actually 1.5 times what it normally is. 

Aha! The loophole. In order to avoid the tax deferral my gross earnings have to remain above the threashold.

So, my strategy to avoid this tax deferral is to continue to work the Covid Tent, and any  holidays between now and the end of the year.  These actions will inflate my gross earnings.

My OASDI will be larger, but so will my net pay--with the added bonus of not having double OASDI taken out next quarter when the unforgiven deferral comes due.

I can breath easier now that I have an Anti-Deferral Plan.

Of the remaining eight payperiods, three  have holidays. Hopefully,  the Covid Screening overtime will continue to be available through the rest of the year.  It dried up once before, when we contracted it out to another company, so it's not a given. But so far, so good.

As long as I can work overtime, this loophole may keep me from having to have an unwanted deferral crammed down my throat.

I've decided loopholes may not be so bad after all. Especially when they apply to me.

In fact, I'm kinda lovin' this particular loophole.

Temporarily Untethered

I am untethered--at least for the short term. The donut has been replaced. I can once again take a trip and drive at highway speeds. 

I cannot tell you how much that donut has cramped my lead foot day triper style this past weekend.  Especially since it occured over a holiday weekend.

I probably could have requested another loaner from the dealership, but I didn't want to press my luck. Two loaners. Two months in a row. To replace my SUV while they made lightweight repairs for which they typically don't give out loaners. I'm a good customer, which is why it was approved by management for the battery last month, but even I would have a hard time asking that favor again...for a tire. Especially since they ate the total cost of the replacement tire thanks to road hazzard insurance. 

Besides, instead of needing transportation overnight to go to work (both times), it would have actually been a five day loaner this time because they had to order the tire over the holiday weekend.

Nope. Didn't want to press my luck for those odds. 

I stayed home except to go to work and the pharmacy. And I only drove on the slower surface streets. I'll save the loaner favor for another car crisis.

Being stuck at home was actually a good thing. No projects were completed, but I got some much needed rest.

I had good project intentions. However, the clothes and linens still need to be washed. The house still needs to be cleaned. The unfinished projects remain unfinished. And I rested so much I lost a day--I woke up Monday thinking it was Sunday.

Since I slept so much,  I also managed to avoid any online purchases, although when I was awake Amazon.com sorely tempted me.

Today, after I lost the donut, I treated myself to a Route 44 DDP at Sonic.

As soon as I pulled into my slot a sheriff drove up behind me. Reflexively I yanked my foot off the floorboard even though I was already parked.  Some reflexes remain ingrained--even though the candles on my cake could keep a small village in good light.

Was it coincidence? Or did this LEO know my tire was fixed and I was itching for a ride on the open highway? Did he know I sometimes drive a little faster than the donut allows? Did he have access to a dealership snitch?  Am I still on the speed radar even though I've been keeping my nose clean and my foot riding a little lighter on the pedal the past couple years? Is there a ticket rotation--kind of like the Jury Duty rotation--and is my number up?  Again?  Is my SUV marked as a habitual speeder? Was he sniffing out the donut residue?

The questions flitted through my head at a warp speed Scotty would have beamed over.  They continued to buzz my brain until I saw the Trooper slide effortlessly into a street facing slot, roll down his window, and place his order.

He'd be at Sonic for a while.

Because I've seen the police working in tandem on Main Street the past few months, I was relatively sure another might be lurking nearby. On the way home I drove 5 under just to play it safe. 

I also kept my eyes on the lookout for new hideyholes, and avoided making the acquaintance of a local guy. The zippy little sports car that passed by wasn't quite as wallflowerish.

I may stay  close to home another day. Even with the new tire.  I might have to employee  a  voluntary self-tethering.

I can endure one more day of tethering....as long as it's temporary...and I can untether again... 

For a longer, faster drive...and another DDP.  😉

Deferred Enslavement

So it seems I'm to be gifted a forced, unwanted, Social Security tax deferral for the remainder of the year.  Worse yet,  because I am a Federal Employee, I am unable to opt out of it. 

Social Security is funded, at least in part, through the earnings tax called OASDI on your paystub. OASDI is the acronym for Old Age, Survivors, and Disability Insurance.  It is based on 12.4% of the employees gross income.  The employer pays half and the employee pays the other 6.2%.

Be sure that you understand this tax deferral is not like the free gift of salvation that God offers to everyone, and each of us make a decision to accept or reject the offer--whether our decision is an active acceptance or rejection, or a passive refusal to make a decision, which is in fact a passive form of rejection.

No, this tax deferral is more like a totally inadequate loan, which you neither want nor asked for, being forced on you. And the repayment is a wage garnishment which occurs when you have the least amount of resources available. 

If you, or your employer opt in to this deferral, you will pay it back on federal government terms.

As a federal employee, I am not even allowed to opt out. So it truely is being forced on me.  Which means January through March I'll have twice the tax taken out to pay it back. At a time when I personally am traditionally already short on cash.  This is not good.  This is not a gift. 

Oh, a disciplined person will not touch the extra money in their paycheck for the  next four months. However, I am not disciplined. 

If I were disiplined I would not have 7 alarms set each morning.  My checking account would always remain black and my savings would be healthy.  I would not have a weight problem. I would always know what time it is, and I would diligently focus on  my plans rather than get sidetracked chasing rabbits.

However, I do chase rabbits. I get sucked into the 'net  hours at a time. I frequently arrive just-in-the-nick-of-time.  I am overweight. I hit the snooze multiple times each morning.  My checking account is anemic and my savings account is lean. I am by no stretch of the imagination disciplined. 

In fact, every pay period I have an additional $50 taken out to cover federal income taxes.  It's how I ensure I always have a small refund due me, and I never have to pay the IRS more in April.  If that $50 were still in my paycheck, I would spend it.  When I see this tax deferral I will spend it. I know myself too well to know I will do otherwise.

And spending it is what the federal government wants us to do. To bolster the economy. To give the workers breathing room. So they say.

Like many, I have more expenses during the holidays. Like many, I pay for a lot of those  expenses on my credit cards. Therefore, because I aim for zero balances, I'm typically paying more on credit card bills the first quarter of the year. 

I count on my IRS refund  each year to pay down any  remaining credit card bills. Or repairs, or tires, or tution or CE courses--you get the idea. 

In good years where I've made wise money choices, I use it to take a much needed vacation. Two years ago I combined my vacation with a workshop and study course. 

The need is different each year. The refund does not cover the need, but it catches me up and makes the first quarter bareable.

This social security deferral will have to be repaid during that period of the year that I am already cash strapped. So not only will I have my own poor spending to repay, I will also be forced to repay an unwanted, forced on, me deferral/loan.

In order for me to survive this "gift" I will have to be very tight with my spending the rest of the year. My tightness is going to aid in stiffling any business depending on my spending. Therefore, this tax deferral will not provide the relief or economic stimulus that a second stimulus check would provide. In fact, I believe this deferral will serve only to hurt the economy and enslave us.

Yeah, I know: the President says he will forgive the taxes and make the deferral permanent if he's re-elected; however, I don't believe that for a second. That is a campaign promise coming from a politician.

Politicians are not to be trusted or believed and campaign promises are not worth the hot air it takes to voice them.

This deferral will not induce me to spend more.  It will not bolster the economy around me.  In fact, it will have the opposite effect: I will pull back on my spending now, try to sock away a little bit more than 7% into a hard-to-access savings account,  and pray to God it is enough to pay expenses and increased taxes I will incur starting January.  Others will spend now with no thought  or plan of repayment until they are in a world of hurt next quarter. Many will turn to payday or personal loans to make ends meet. 

Be prepared. This tax deferral is not in your best interest. It is not in the best interest of small business.  

Whether this quarter or next quarter this tax deferral is designed to enslave not liberate.  

Summer Tire Chains

Tire chains are not just for icy winter driving. Sometimes they rear their ugly head during the Dog Days of Summer. 

Driving to work the past few days I  heard a thunk with every tire rotation. Because of my vast tire knowledge I figured since the pressure was holding it was probably a bubble that was getting ready to pop. I was trying to hold out until Saturday to have it checked out because I wanted to give the tire guy plenty of time to fix it.

It didn't hold out until Saturday. 

I left work early for my monthly B12 injection today. On the way to the clinic my low tire air icon came on and the sensors told me the problem tire was the front passenger side. The tire hadn't popped as I feared; however, the pressure was dropping. 

Since the tire pressure drop was fluctuating and not a fast straight drop, I figured the tire, and its pressure, would hold long enough for me to make my appointment then double back to the dealership to have it checked out.

It held, but I was going to end up being an end of the day repair after all.  On a Friday.  And a pre-holiday Friday to boot. 

Well, it's not a bubble.  It's also not a repair. 

Yep. It's a replacement.  

Somewhere along my covid-limited travels I picked up a nail.  In the sidewall. Because that's where I pick up all my nails. I guess I really need to stop driving on the sidewalks. Those sidewall nails are almost always irreparable. 

I told the Service Advisor I wanted Michelin tires, not that inferior Hankook that came on the SUV.

Honestly it seems like I  already replaced them, but then I remembered the last thing this SUV was in the shop for was the replacement battery. And I've only had this SUV three years, so I must be thinking about my last SUV. Darn. 

I prefer to replace all tires at one time--or at least by twos on the same axle. I'm having eaves replaced all the way around the house, so tires all the way around the SUV would stretch me thiner than I would be comfortable stretching on this fine payday.  Yep. I spend it as soon as I make it. Even when I try to save it. 

So I told the Service Advisor I needed it replaced, but I would only replace it with Michelin. That's when he told me I have  Michelin on the SUV.  It wasn't crazy after all--better yet--I have replaced all of the tires on this SUV already. 

Well that perked me right up.  

Surely, since I have replaced the tires that came on the SUV, my new tires should still be under warranty. Since the SUV is only three years old, the tires can't be more than a year or two. Tops.  If nothing else, they should prorate the replacement. Besides,  I usually buy Road Hazard  due to the mileage I put on my SUVs. Surely, pro rating and road hazard insurance would take care of a majority of the bill.

The Service Advisor  checked.  

I spent the money on Road Hazard. The replacement is  covered. 😃

Unfortunately, the dealership  does not have the tire in stock. They will  have to order it and have it delivered--and they won't be able to pop it on the rim until Tuesday. 

So, it looks like I will be taking no road trips this  long holiday weekend.

And to add insult to injury, I'm having to run on the donut tire, so I can't drive fast or far.  I'm really teathered to home.  Not even a day trip for this girl. ☹

And because when it rains it pours...it has started raining.  Really.  On my night to work the Covid Tent.  

I need to take a nap. At least the rain is good sleeping weather. And good staying home weather.

On the brighter side, I can make it to work tonight without having to obtain a rental or ask the dealership for another loaner. And the cost of the replacement tire is covered.

All in all it could be a lot worse. 

I'm pleased. Even if I am to be  chained to the homestead for the weekend.

Mabye the weekend weather will clear and TheGirls and I will make a break for freedom and go for a walk.  

Or three.  

Here's to breaking tire chains...

Shut the Global Door

I'm spending less and less time online.

I don't like the "improvements" Facebook has made. I no longer see posts from Family and Friends--only strangers that share a membership in a common group. 

The "news" is depressing, sensationalized,  geared toward advancing every agenda imaginable rather than reporting truth or even legit news items in an unbiased manner. All sides are equally repulsive to me because of their sensationalistic tactics. 

I have not done the forced update with Twitter, and I haven't decided if I will.

When a game app forces me to watch 30 second video to play the next game, I stop playing that game--when the game does it frequently enough, I unload the app. There are too many replacements available to be forced to put up with that crap. 

I've lost my phone three times this past month because I no longer care about the phone.  I don'teven try to remember its location. When the phone is MIA the only thing I miss is the alarm clock, and the thousands of phots of Bandit it contains. I bought a photo stick to download my photos, and I plan to buy a plain ole battery opperated alarm the next time I'm in a store that sells them. That will effectively take care of those two problems. 

In short, I've grown disenchanted with All Things Tech and am cocooning more and more each day.

Luckily for me, I am an introvert and I like spending time with myself. Besides, I  have more time for reading, writing, playing with Moggy and The Girls, and when I want to have contact with faraway Family and Friends, I can still call or text. At least for now...

But it's still kind of sad that FB and the 'net are effectively closing the door on the global world I used to enjoy.

NapDay

Technically it's not really a nap, but yesterday I slept in an hour because I took the day off from work to attend an appointment for an RFA (RadioFrequency Ablation) on my Right Lesser Saphanous Vein. 

Translation: a vein in my right calf was cauterized.

It's a minimally invasive procedure, with some discomfort, but not what I would categorize as pain. I wasn't concerned.

I prepared and premedicated myself as instructed. Prior to the procdedure my blood pressure was 135/76. A little high for me since I usually run 110/70. But still very acceptable. 

After the RFA my BP was much closer to my normal when it registered as 115/70. Perhaps I had been a tad bit anxious after all.

As I considered picking up supplies and prescriptions, a tiny headache started to build. Headache is not a lifethreatening side effect of the procedure or the preprocedure medications, so I powered through.

By the time I arrived home a couple hours later it had  developed  into a full blown headache. I was thankful I had the foresight to take the entire day off to recuperate.

I let Moggy and TheGirls outside for a potty break, then we all pilled into my queen sized bed: me hanging off the edge;  my three free-loaders occupying the sweet spot in the middle. As usual.

We took our first official nap of the day. 

Actually, we "napped" for two hours...it was a good nap, but not long enough to banish the headache, so I closed my eyes.

They remained closed an additional three hours. 

After Nap Number Two, it was time for a potty break and a very late dinner. As has been our custom we ate our dinner outside on the patio. Although we ate very quickly, the sun set before we finished and returned to the coolness inside. 

Translation:  we scarfed it down and returned to the AC.

Back inside, we piled onto the sofa where we...if you thought took nap number three, you would be....wrong!

We actually watched the last ten minutes of To Tell The Truth, a moden revival of a classic game show. 

When the news came on, we took a nap.

LOL!  No we did not. I just wanted to type that.  I merely got ready for bed.  Evidently, Moggy and TheGirls were ready for bed again as well, because they joined me.

So NapDay really only consisted of two naps. Granted, they were not quick power naps. It feels like I've done nothing but sleep all day.

Technically that's pretty close to the truth, but the cadence of Sleep-in, Nap, Nap, Sleep, puts me in the mindset of Duck, Duck, Goose.

And it's a more combersome title that does not roll off the tongue.

Besides, I just like the sound of  "NapDay." 

BirdDogs

My backyard birds are entertaining to watch. 

Usually.

Here lately, I've felt the need to referee them as they've stepped up their fighting at the feeders and unseen boundry lines.

The Chickadees, are bossy as heck.

I relate to bossy. I am bossy. I have been bossy my whole life. In fact, on one of my 4th grade report cards the notation from the teacher says, "Mary Lou has been 'mothering' the other children again."  I asked Mama about that. Her translation: "You were a  bossy child." 

Humph. 

I can't help it if I know how to get things done and speak directly.   I am cognizant of this tendency, and I do attempt to temper my speech with kindess and grace. However, I do not sugar coat issues,  and I'm not always successful in toning down the bossiness. 

This failure has resulted in my  successfully embracing the fine art of The Apology.

Anyway, I like my Chickadees.  I relate to them. They have been chittering at all the other birds for a few weeks now.

Chittering is okay.

But they have escalated their behaviour, and are now flying at the other birds. Not in the playful way the Hummingbirds buzz Yours Truly.  But in a Pearl Harbor suicidal-dive-bombing kind of way. Especially when it comes to the Dove that has started camping out on one of the feeder ledges. She is flat out taking up residence for half an hour at a time. I may need to start charging rent.  Or tell her the buffet has a two minute time limit.

Most of the other birds just hang back and watch as the seed level sinks lower and lower. But not the Chickadees. They fly right up to her and chit her out. They move her off the ledge. Maybe she moves away because she's full, but I like to think David is reslaying Goliath. Daily.

I agree with the Chickadees. While I don't begrudge those going through a rough time  and are truely in need,  I'm personally tired of working to pay for all the perks others receive, while I can't afford them for myself--especially freebies that our government hands out to able-bodied people who prefer scamming the system to an honest days work.  I realize I can't tilt at every windmill, so I just B&M here on my blog. And occassionally write my  public servants to complain.

But back to the bossy birds--when the Chickadees start going after the bigger birds--and the real backyard bullies--the infamous BlueJays--I caution the Chickadees to pick their dragons carefully--some dragons slay easy, while others breath fire.  It's usually not evident which is which until they open their mouth. 

To that end, I caution the Chickadees to be careful.  But rather than be careful, I think the Chickadees have started rubbing off on the Hummingbirds. 

Although I love the forthrightness of the Chickadees, the Hummers are my faves. They are also the most curious about me. 

The  Hummers are the ones who almost--but not quite, at least not yet--engage me, by buzzing my head, posing for photos, and play hide-and-seek when they notice me watching them.

Hummers can be very  territorial. Especially over their food source. I occassionally see them dart at birds when they fly a little too near their nectar feeders. But I've also started to see them flying, with their long sword-like beaks poised threateningly, at birds who are just sitting on branches  minding their own business.  They just happen to be in the same tree.

Even more alarming to me: the Hummingbirds have begun attacking each other this week. Not just at the feeder. Not just while sotting on branches in the feeder tree. They have also been attacking each other in the tip-top branches of their resting tree. I also like to call it their surveillance tree. Not only do they almost engage me--they also stalk me. 

Now, the Doves are fighting each other. It seems Covid-19 isn't the only malady out there.  Some nights it's like an avian free-for-all in my backyard.  The thing of it is: It's not like they are fighting because they are starving. 

I'm spending a small fortune keeping all the feeders full.  There's no call for the birds, or the squirrels, to fight each other for their dinner.

I have premium shelled seeds, nuts, and fruit bits in the house and peacock feeders. The suet ball feeder stays full.  Not too many of the birds seem to care for the balls. Maybe they are too hard to get out of the feeder. All my backyard critters love the suet feeders on the back fence. In fct, I can't refill them fast enough.  The Hummers actually wiggle their little tail feathers when I put out the cold nectar.  When I mix the nectar, I fill their feeders only about 1/3 to 1/2 full. The Texas summer heat is rough on leftover nectar, and since bad nectar can kill my Feathered Friends, I keep the unused nectar fresh in the fridge until I use it to fill a feeder.  I also perform frequent scrubbings  and refills on the feeders. 

I'm an Equal Opportunity Critter Spoiler, so I also put corn on the cob in the bungee feeder--just for the squirrels.  I hope the bunge cord eventually lessens the squirrel raids on the seed and suet feeders. I'm not sure how effective it is. I see the squirrels trying to eat at every place setting--including the Hummingbird feeders. 

I don't think the birds, or the squirrels,  should feel the need to have to fight for their dinner. There's plenty to go around.  

Tonight as I served up more seed, I realized the birds not only  fight each other,  and the squirrels--they also have to  watch out for my BirdDogs hogging the bird food as well!

I only captured a photo of one of the BirdDogs at the feeder, but trust me, both TheGirls were present for this photo opp. 

Because I'm Brilliant Like That.

I forgot to take my antibiotic with dinner last night.

I'm brilliant like that.

No excuse.  The bottle was sitting right in front of me.  Just like this morning--I'm just now realizing I forgot it again.

Pauses typing to take the stupid pill...Resumes typing. 

Last night, when I finally remembered, it was late.   I needed food with it but didn't want anything heavy, so I reached over to my treat stash and grabbed a couple thumbnail-sized crackers and popped them in my mouth.

They were crunchy but tasted a tad bit stale.

Because I'm brilliant, I grabbed a couple more. 

It was a twofold decision--taste test for freshness and ensure enough food was in my tummy to avoid tummy tear-up with the introduction of the long overdue antibiotic.

Yep. Stale.

I quickly took my pill and washed everything down with some DDP (Diet Dr Pepper).

Good thing I did.

I decided to check the expiration date. Nope. Still good for another 13 months.

So I turned the bag over to see if it was an off brand. Store brands are usually made by the same people in the same factory--they just have different labels. I like store brands.  I'm not so sure of the quality of off-brands and knockoffs. They often taste a little "off" to me.

Nope. Not to worry.  Nationally recognized name brand.

As I started hacking like I was about to toss up a hairball, then and only then,  my brain kicked in...the crackers were Moggy's.

I had taken my pill with, not one--but two,  small servings of catnip treats.  Even after thinking the first serving was a tad bit off. 

Because I'm...meow...brilliant like that!

Caturday Critter Craziness

Moggy, my Domestic Short Hair (DSH) resuce, acts as if Caturday is every day. Because he has trained  his "help" well (I would be The Help), he is correct--everyday is Caturday.

Most weekend Caturdays are restful. However, this past Saturdays Caturday was fraught with chaos, starting around o'dark thirty.

The Girls, my Mom and Daughter retired AKC Champions, came to me supposedly potty-pad trained this past Feburary. They have had many accidents. I prefer they be outside potty trained anyway, so we are potty training--the thing I didn't want to have to do, and a major reason I choose older dogs rather than a puppy. Yet here I am--potty trainning a 5 year old and her four year old daughter. 

During the past few months we have become more consistant with using the potty pads, which have made their way closer and closer to the back door.  We like progress. Soon the potty pads will be outside and no longer needed. Actually, they are only needed now when I am away from home too long, or when The Girls don't wake me for the occasional overnight potty break. If we continue to avoid accidents, the plan is to finish out our current supply, and be done with potty pads altogether.

Sometime between midnight and daybreak, the girls woke me with their restlessness.  Usually restlessness is a pretty good indicator of a need, so outside we went.  This time the restlessness was actually the Intruder Alert.

The din they made could have awakened the residents of the local cemetery.  As it were,  our closest neighbors were the ones awakened. 

Following The Girls outside I found the intruder pinned to the fence near the bird feeders. It seems the Opposum likes to clean up the fallen bird seed.

The Girls couldn't be more different personality-wise. Kennzie, the Mama, is my chill, pleaser pup--except when she gets riled by the squirrels, or feeds into KatiE's teenage hyper-micromanagement of the neighborhood yards. KatiE is not content to just terrorize the squirrels in our yard--no, she must bark at the squirrels in the neighbors yards, and neighbors neighbors yards--and the yards across the field. Thankfully she has started to acclimate to the birds that dine at our feeders. Most days. I'm hoping acclimating to the squirrels will not be far behind. But frankly it's a long shot.

During our early morning Critter Brawl, I had to place myself physically between the opposum and The Girls, to get them to settle down. From now on, I will flick the outside light a few times, and open the door a little slower.  Hopefully this will give the opposum time to make himself scarce. 

After the sun came up, we returned outside for breakfast. I enjoy our weekend breakfasts. They are pleasent and relaxing. 

Most of the time.

This particular Caturday Moggy decided, since The Girls were busy ensuring the opposum hadn't returned, he would snack on their ignored breakies. KatiE was having None. Of. That.  Even though she wasn't eating anything herself,  she growled a warning each time Moggy so much as looked at her bowl.

Moggy is fed inside on a raised counter so he can eat in peace. After KatiEs warning growls he decided to go inside to check out his bowl. Afterward he saunterd off to roam the neighborhood.

During KatiE's barkfest, Kennzie, my chill Mama pup, surprised me when she spied a squirrel daring to step paw into our yard and took off at breakneck speed, barking all the way, to the far corner.

KatiE was torn: micromanage Moggy or The Squirrel? After a few false starts, and back-and-forth races, she finally decided to follow her Mama's lead wholeheartedly.

After the fracas at the far corner of the yard died down, but before The Girls lost interest in watching for the return of the squirrel, Moggy returned. Via the same corner.  The Girls have finally started to listen to me--but only a little--and they curtailed their barking at Moggy fairly quickly--quickly for them anyway. But the left-side next door neighbors dogs acted like Moggy was Charles Manson, Jeffery Dahmer, and Ted Bundy all rolled into one. 

The neighbors dogs are very well trained and follow his comand instantly. Mine, not so much. I didn't even hear him quiet his dogs. But I know he did because they quieted sooner than they normally do when they see Moggy.

Moggy kept his eyes trained on me and walked steady. He's learning. When he walks fast, or runs, The Girls give chase, splitting in order to corner him. I fear for him during those times he faces their pack mentality.

Much to my relief Moggy made it to the safety of the patio. Only after he climbed up into the spare chair next to me did I breathe easy.

Just before the Texas heat took its toll on us, the new puppy to our right tumbled out his doggie door.

You guessed it.

The morning peace was broken yet again. But it was the last time.

Only because the morning would be over in less than thirty minutes.

Besides we weren't staying outside any longer.

More importantly, at least to Moggy, now that the morning chaos had subsided, His Royal Highness was meowing for additional cat food, and I, his humble servant was expected to provide.

As I gathered up my breakfast dishes, phone, camera, extra dogfood, dog and kittie treats, book, sunscreen, hat, fly and mosquito sprays, and other "must haves"  Moggy decided he needed a drink.

Not a problem, I have several water bowls set out for Moggy and The Girls.  As he lapped the water, KatiE started growling at him again.  Then the slight breeze shifted.

Moggy felt a light sprinkle from the solar birdbath fountain. I know because I was on the receiving end of the sprinkles as well.

I watched him think it through.

The splashes came from the solar fountain in the birdbath. That meant water is in the birdbath. The birdbath bowl is above the height of both Dogs. Hummmm...

And then he lept.

The birdbath crashed to the patio, spilling the river rock stepping stones for the smaller birds, the solar fountain, and the water all over the patio. The larger flamingo-riding gnome was not affected; however, the mini-gnome's cactus home was overturned. And Moggy shot off towards the open back door and the safety of inside.

Amid the chaos, in spite of the chaos, and even because of the chaos, everyday is Caturday at our zoo.

Except when it's also The Dog Days...

The Croaker

Our actions, as well as our inactions, have consequences. Like it or not this loosely paraphrased law of physics is a fact of life.  And sometimes death. 

For a while now I've been hearing an occasional light thumping around my front door. The first time I investigated, I decided it was the wind whipping the garden flags on either side of the entryway. Additionally, I recently added a spring-time hanging flag on the door. Any one of the flags, or their holders, could be the  noisemaking culprit.

Sunday evening, after an energy zapping, scorcher of a day, I watered the plants on the back patio. Tired and overheating,  I considered waiting until morning to water the plants at the front entry.  Even as I deliberated  I knew I ran the risk of death. Some of my favorite and most fragile plants are sheltered from the Texas sun in the relative safety of the entryway.  Deciding the benefit outweighed the risk, I waited.

Had I watered the plants that night--or had I powered through my zapped state and  investigated that nights thumper--death might have been been delayed.

Unfortunately, I may have unwittingly heard the desperate last noises of the front yard toad before he croaked.

I now realize the thumping I have previously mistaken for wind may have actually been Mr. Toad attempting to hop back out of the watering can I have positioned to catch rainwater run-off. In the past, if  the frog entered the watering can, he has, after a few attempts, exited said can. At least, I never found him inside the watering can after hearing the thumping noises, so I'm assuming this is a possible scenario. 

Sunday night, Mr. Toad did not make it out of the watering can alive. I'm unsure if it was because the water level was wrong (e.g. too great/half way may be too far from the bottom for a leap to safety; or too low/halfway might be too far from the top to pull himself up and out).  Or maybe he misjudged the jump to safety and hit his head on the handle spanning the top opening; thereby, knockihg himself senseless and back into the water.   Or maybe he simply exhausted himself after repeated failed atempts to jump out of his wayery grave.

Whatever the reason, when I picked up the watering can Monday morning,  I found Mr. Toad floating lifeless inside.

Had I watered the plants, I could have released him to the relative safety of our Moggy-patrolled area. He would have at least had a fighting--or more likely,  a hidding chance--at life. 

However, Mr. Toads entry into the watering can placed him in harms way, and my failure to water my plants, or check out the thumping noise, collided with him to form a perfect storm in which he perished.

On a selfish note, I never did get around to kissing him to see if he was my Prince Charming...or just another toad. Now I'll just have to wonder....

I have stepping stones in my bird baths to increase the safety factor for smaller birds visiting my garden water sources. Now I am placing stick ramps in deeper buckets for the amphibians. Even if a trapped critter cannot figure out how to climb the stick ramp to safety, they will have something on which to rest or cling to life until they are rescued.

The deep-water ramps are a  gardening safety lesson learned too late to save my possible Prince Charming. Perhaps it will save future lives. I hope so. No more Garden Death Trauma for this girl, thank you very much.

I hope this garden water safety lesson has not been learned in vain. I hope it prevents future avoidable garden deaths. 

RIP Mr. Toad.

The Dragonfly

I've been saying my Dragonfly is fearless. Or curious. Or both. 

He buzzes me in the back yard. He greets me in the front yard. He poses for me long minutes at a time as I fumble with cameras and phones until I get one of them to allow me to take really close photos of him. 

Even after I disturb him enough to buzz away, he returns within a minute or two.

As a result I've claimed he's fearless, or at least curious.

Well, here's a photo to prove it.
 
Sort of.

If you don't look too closely. 

It almost looks like the Dragonfly is resting on the end of my pointer finger. In reality, he's sitting on one of the stalks of my smaller red yucca.  My finger is actually touching the underside of the stalk, not the Dragonfly.  But it does make for an interesting photo.

When I tired to get the Dragonfly to step onto my finger, he flew away--but he returned to the stalk before I had taken the 10 steps  to my SUV driverside door.

Fearless? Curious? Pure dumb luck? Coincidence? Something else? 

I'll leave it to you to decide.

But I'm considering names that imply courage and curiosity.

 

Somewhere There is a Bag of Squirrel Corn

So the squirrels pretty much polished  off the caged corn cob on the  bungee cord. I have a bag of dried corn cobs to refill the squirrel feeder.
 
Somewhere. 

I remember placing the corn cobs in a large airtight container. And placing the container....

Somewhere.

I just can't recall the exact location of the elusive somewhere.

I refuse to buy more corn cobs until I find the ones I already have, and the squirrels have eaten all of them.

Besides,  HEB didn't have any.  Yes.  I checked. 

But only because the squirrels are hungry.  And I might have to buy some corn to tide them over until I can find that blasted bag.  But it's a moot point since HEB didn't have any squirrel corn cobs.  

What  they did have was frozen corn on the cob.

No, I did not buy the squirrels frozen corn on the cob--my freezer is full. Besides,  I just need to find that bag of cobs.  It's...

Somewhere.

Okay, so I don't have freezer space for squirrel corn.  But the squirrels have to eat and HEB also has fresh packaged corn on the cob--already shucked, silks removed, and cut into same size ears.

But I'm not buying packaged corn for the squirrels either.  I'll sometimes splurge and buy it for me, but I usually just grab the loose ears in the produce department. They are great nuked--easy peasy, and depending on the time of year they run 4-6 for $1. I figure I can shell out a buck until I locate that stupid bag of squirrel corn. Besides, I'll probably get to eat most of the fresh ears.

I guess it's still too early in the season.  Or else Covid has run up the price of corn.  They were 3 for $1.  And the ears were unimpressive. Still, the squirrels need to eat and I can have the remaining ears once I find the bag.

It'll be a race to see who gets to eat the remaining two ears of corn--me or the squirrels--but I'm going through all the cabinets today. So I'm confident I'll win the race.  I really like corn on the cobb.

When I find that bag of squirrel corn, they better not turn their noses up at it,  because I'm not going to be buying them fresh corn on a regular basis.  This is a one time purchase for the squirrels--and only because it's an emergency.

I already spoil my other kids--locally sourced small batch dog food, no cat food made in China or Taiwan, premium bird seed, home-made dye-free  Audubon approved nector for the hummers, water features for the birds, toads, and fireflies--and the list goes on.  I'm not adding  buying fresh corn for the squirrels to the list.  At least not on a regular basis.   Not after today.

But I'll check Amazon for fresh corn storage. 

Just in case.

Poor Little Orphans

While I restaged the back patio, to ensure unobstructed views of the feeders I have scattered throughout the back yard, it began to sprinkle again. This time I thought it might mean business, so I packed up my books, tools, and dead phone (evidentially power pack usage is beyond my comprehension because, although I have fully charged the power pack, I have yet to get it to work).

During my last check of my corner-in-progress,  and the views beyond, I noticed Moggy. He was lying under the neighbors fire pit. You would think he's a poor little unsheltered, unloved orphan boy.

I provide all his needs. I feed him. I give him luxuries like toys, scratching posts, and treats. I take care of his medical check-ups and emergencies. I right his messes and clean his soiled litter box. I pet him when he allows, or demands (depending on his mood). I provide him with safe, dog-free/cat-friendly, zones during the days he decides to stay home with The Girls. I tell him I love him every day, and I adopted him into The Zoo er....Family.

How so much like Moggy we can be.

God loves us, provides for us, spoils us, allows us free will, protects us, and offers us adoption into His Family.

Yet even after accepting His free gift of salvation, we sometimes return to shelter in the dirt and ashes rather than bask in the fullness of His grace and love.

In so doing we act like like poor little orphans accepting, and settling for, less than His best.