Desperate Dishwasher

About three weeks ago my dishwasher door broke. Well, the handle broke. No,no... the little thingy-dingy inside the handle that clicks the door shut broke. Whatever! The point is that I haven't been able to use my dishwasher and have been slaving over a soapy sink. Being the diligent dishwasher that I am, dishes have been piling up, up, up and fruit flies have been a-swarming. I'm cooking less (and I do love to cook) because I don't wanna do no friggin' dishes.

This morning I tumbled out of bed and went directly to the coffee pot to make a fresh pot of brew. Well, guess what? Due to a pile of dirty dishes in my sink I could not fit the coffee pot under the faucet to fill it. No way in hell was I going to do the mother-fuc*&^ing dishes first thing in the morning, BEFORE my first cup of coffee. I jiggled the dishwasher door handle - no luck. I squeeeezed, pulled and kicked the door - no luck. I pried the handle with a dirty butter knife - LUCK!!! The door popped open - never to lock shut again.

I piled every last dirty dish into that dishwasher. Piled them in so full that the top shelf was bowing down. Then, I shut the door. It flopped open. I shut the door again. It flopped open again. "Oh no, you monster...you will NOT win this fight!". I shut the door, held it shut and turned that sucker on. I could hear it filling with water and then start to swish those dishes clean. The only thing was, I was stuck there holding the door shut watching water leak onto my floor when my arm got tired. Then I got an idea. I propped the door shut with two chairs and stuck a towel under the dishwasher just in case.

Michael came into the kitchen, took one look, shook his head and said, "You've GOT to take a picture of that." I did. Then we went dishwasher shopping on the web. I found one but haven't ordered it yet. The chairs will do for a little longer!

My dishes are clean!

It's a Dog's Life

Wilbur a.k.a Sir Spoiled-A-Lot spent a very relaxing morning napping in the remains of my garden. That translates to "Wilbur was napping in dirt and rotten tomatoes".

A few days ago he had a bath.

I enjoy just letting him be a dog no matter how dirty he gets right after a bath.

It's a dog's life, isn't it?

It's Been a Long Time...

It's been a long time.

A long time since I've written in this blog.

A long time since I've worked.

A long time since my mom has died.

It's been a looooooooooooong time.

Even though it's been a long time I feel like I'm just starting to get back into the swing of things.

I was numb for awhile. Sitting, thinking, analyzing and wondering. A lot of just staring to be honest.

Have you ever just stared? Mind blank, body numb, eyes dull, ears ringing and hearing the t.v. somewhere off in the distance? I did. I was in a dazed and confused sort of state. I'm coming out of it now and it feels good to jump back into reality or ....jump into life.

So my jump back into life is like standing on a hot rock, holding onto a rope, swinging myself into the air towards a very cold creek and letting go. As my body sinks deep into the cold water I feel scared but invigorated. I feel the fight rippling through my body. I know I'll fight my way up from the bottom of the creek and soon suck in fresh air, look up to the clouds and know there is hope for a new beginning.

I had my first interview today.

It was good.

Peace and love to all.

Life is good.

Foster Mama

I've adopted and have been fostering Beagles (and one Coon Hound) for the past six months. It's been an adventure, that's for sure. An an adventure that I think Thelma, my old, black, cat has been enjoying immensely. She seems to love taking control of this castle and the dogs. She hisses, chases, meows and swats these dogs into submission and I must admit it's fun to watch.

After I made my decision to start fostering it didn't take long (about 2 days) before I got my first little beagle, Pearl. Of course she wasn't a NORMAL dog...ohhhhh nooooooooo, that would be much too "normal" for me! I got Pearl. Poor, scared-of-her-own-shadow, abused, Pearl. At first, Pearl spent 90% of her time in the corner of the crate; head burrowed down into a blanket hoping the world didn't know she was there. I didn't force her in the crate but that's where she felt safe. I left the door open at all times. It took me two solid weeks to gain Pearls trust and finally she put her two front paws out of the crate so I could pet her. After three weeks, she gathered enough courage to sneak out of the crate at night and steal the cats food dish. After a month, she would come out of the crate and was brave enough to actually come to me, Mike and my Dad. Finally, a family came to visit Pearl, instantly fell in love with her sorrowful soul and she was adopted. I was so sad to let her go but I was happy that she had a forever home.

After Pearl, I got Wilbur. Wilbur is a Lemon Beagle (mostly white with tan spots) who looks like beagle/basset hound mix. Short, stumpy legs, squishy face, long, soft ears and irresistable golden, sad eyes. I named him Wibur because when he's happy, eating or sleeping he snorts just like the little piggy in Charlotte' Web. He snorts A LOT....but I love, love, love his snorts. Wilbur is a sucker for mashed potatoes. After two days I knew just HAD to adopt him. When the lady from the rescue place would call me to say she that had someone who wanted to see him for possible adoption I wouldn't call her back! Wilbur is a cuddler, smoochable, mellow and just a lovable dog. I love his squishy little face and puppy breath. He's my little ray of loveable, huggable, sunshine and now, he's mine...forever. I'm so, so happy to have him in my life.

After I adopted will I got Dugger. He's a Pocket Beagle, which are very small beagles in size but not in personality. I was kind of worried about how Wilbur would respond to another dog in the house but Wilbur didn't disappoint me and was a very fine host. Wilbur liked Dugger and Dugger liked Wilbur. Dugger wasn't shy at all. He instantly formed a bond with Mike, Dad and my son Ian. Those three guys, really "dug" Dugger. Dad just couldn't keep away from him and Dugger just loved my Dad right back. Wilbur and Dugger would hang out in the yard and Dugger ran circles around my lazy little Wilbur-barking and jumping and begging Will to play but Wilbur only played...dead. Stop, drop and flop ---that's Wilbur. Dugger would go upstairs, climb up on my dad's lap and hang out with him all day long. Dad loved Dugger. After two weeks we got a call that a couple wanted to meet "The Dug". They came with their Greyhound, they saw, the man put Dugger in his pocket, and they adopted him. Yay for Dugger....Boo-Hoo for Dad.

For about two days, I had a coon-hound, Daphne. THAT dog was frickin' crazy! She was big, strong and in LOOOOOOOOOOOVE with Wilbur. Wilbur did not reciprocate the love so she would lean on him and pin him against the wall. Poor Wilbur would snort, try to get away and look at me with his sorrowful, pleading eyes "help me, mama". Daphne never laid down, she would stand and stare at Wilbur and nudge him with her nose while he tried to sleep. I felt so sorry for him. Thankfully, Daphne was only with us for two days. I always tell dad that Daphne reminded me of the movie Fatal Attaction. Daphne was fatally attracted to Wilbur and she stalked him. I think if she were here longer and he kept rejecting her...well, she might have "killed" his stuffed bunny toy and put it's head next to him. He survived, thank goodness and then he fell in L-O-V-E with....

My current foster, GiGi Girl. Oh Gigi! When she first came in my door she growled. I was assured that it was a "scared" growl and they were right. Poor Gigi Girl was so neglected and abused in her past that her only form of trying to protect herself was to growl. Wilbur LOVED her instantly and so did I. Gigi is a very gentle soul. She loves her belly scratched. Her first day here Wilbur sniffed, snuggled, cuddled, tried to play and slept by Gigi. I was so PROUD of him for being so nice to her because she seemed to really like him too. On day two, Wilbur tried to do the humpty-doo with her and I thought it was so cute. "Wilbur has a girlfriend, Wilbur has a girlfriend". Wilbur is fixed so I didn't know that fixed does NOT eliminate the "I wanna screw you" feeling. It didn't take long for me to figure out that Wilbur wanted to "do it" with Gigi. She was rubbing her butt in his face all of the time. I found out shortly that "Gigi was just coming out of heat." Ohhhhhh Shit. I have never seen Wilbur want to go outside as much as he did with Gigi! He was in "hump" mode. I SAW his "lipstick" and it's something to talk about!! After two days, Wilburs tongue was hangin' to it's side, he got so excited that he peed on the guest bed. That was it for me! I called and said...."This dog is in HEAT! I can't have her here because Wilbur is acting like a horny old fool! I'm going NUTS!!" Then Dad stepped in and said that I couldn't do that to Gigi. He said she had been thrown around tooooo long and that he'd keep her upstairs until "it" passed. Thank goodness for dad because they were gonna put Gigi in a kennel again! It passed after three days. Wilbur could care less about having his way with Gigi and the feeling is mutual. However, Wilbur and Gigi are definately bestest of friends. She cleans his ears and eyes and he musters enough energy to actually PLAY with her. They snuggle and sleep together. Wilbur even shares his food with her. I think they are in love. Gigi follows me around and wags her tail. She's loves to play and fetch a ball. She's the funnest dog I've had yet and she's a cuddler too. We all love her....but not as much as Wilbur does. She'll be missed once she's adopted....someday ;)

Dad's Cinderella

I woke up this morning and trudged upstairs to dad's apartment in my pajamas, poured a cup of java and plopped on his couch. This has become my morning ritual. Every morning, Dad and I sipping coffee, watching the morning news and making small talk. Wilbur my lemon beagle, is right beside us.

I noticed things looked a bit dusty and the carpets were covered in MY dogs fur. Dad is 74 and suffers terribly from arthritis. He keeps his place organized but that "deep cleaning" stuff is very diffucult for him although he does do it. But today, I did it!

I gave dads apartment a deep cleaning.

I dusted all his furniture, changed his sheets, vacuumed, cleaned his kitchen and bathroom and washed all his floors. It felt so good to do that for him and he was humbly happy about it. My ambition caught on and dad washed all his garbage cans out and even put a new toilet seat on his toilet. It was great and fun team work.

As I sit at the computer typing this blog, Dad is upstairs in his clean apartment making a pot roast. I'm sure there are carrot and onion peels all over the clean kitchen floor and the counters are a mess. But, I don't care. I just care, that he's a happy cook in a clean kitchen.

Haunted...in a Good Way

Haven't been on this blog for awhile. I enjoy writing and sharing my day to day thoughts and goings on. But unfortunately I'm not confident when it comes to sharing my writing. Really, who cares, right? If no one reads this crud, there is still nothing to lose!! And so I go....

As you all know if you have read (from my last few posts) things haven't been the most super-fantastic for me. I lost my job and even more importantly, my mom passed away. It's been a tough past couple of months but it could have been a lot tougher.

I was really close with my mom - not just as an adult but since I was a kid. When ma got sick she she CONSTANTLY told me..."Chrissa, when I croak, you better not go nuts. If you do, I'll f&cking HAUNT YOU! Mom was always reminding me that if I went into some sort of depression or cuckoo-ness when she died that she'd HAUNT me. I knew and know now that she would never really haunt me but her words did.

She's gone. I cried. I miss her something terrible but I know mom wants me to be happy and not dwell on the fact that she is gone. And so that's what I have been trying to do since October 26. That's the day she left this world.

I made it a point to ENJOY my Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays. I cooked, decorated, shopped and enjoyed my family. Sometimes I had "inklings of guilt" because mom wasn't here to enjoy it too but then I remembered that it was her WISH OF WISHES for me to continue enjoying these things in life.

Mom does haunt me. But in a good way. He words haunt me. Her words of praise and confidence in me. When I was depressed over all the things I felt I screwed up in life, she'd come over make me tea, cuddle me in bed, gently caress my hair and tell me that I was a strong woman. She'd tell me that she knew what I was doing was hard but it was important that I was doing what was right for me no matter how hard it was at the time. She'd give me a kick in the ass and tell me to "get on with life". Mom never let me wallow in self-pity for long. She encouraged my creativity and reminded me of what a good mother I was. She told me she would NEVER EVER have wanted any other daughter than me because she thought I was the best daughter EVER. She was so proud of me. Constantly, for years, mom told me that she knew I was STRONG.

That's what haunts me. Mom's words that I am strong. She was the strongest woman I have ever known and that strength is running through my veins every day. Thanks mom.