To each his own. To me my own.

Posts tagged “Miscellaneous

Dreamland again

Last night I had some very strange dreams. I was walking on a road and I noticed there were kittens everywhere… one narrowly escaped being hit by a car. Freaking out, I gathered as many of them as I could, and they were all so precious. After gathering all the kittens up, here in the middle of the road also sits this iguana. It was a beautiful iguana, bright green and healthy looking – and it couldn’t take it’s eyes off me. I go pick it up and it instantly clings to me – of course this captured my heart.

People started arriving to help, and I knew the kittens were going to have to go to the pound. While I contemplated keeping one, I petted on the iguana who had happened upon a new mommy. At that moment I knew exactly who I was taking home. He was abnormally large, about the size of a full-grown dachschund. I carried him everywhere and we formed a strong bond… I can even say by the end of the dream that I loved him.

All in all, it was a good dream – except for being disappointed when I awoke and realized my little Iggy was just a figment of my imagination.

I honestly didn’t think I would find any interpretation on dreams of iguanas, but I should’ve known better. What I found floored me.

To see an iguana in your dream, represents harshness, cold-heartedness, fierceness, and inhuman poise.  It is an indication of both hostility and unstoppable determination. The iguana may remind you of someone or some situation in your waking life that you find frightening yet awe inspiring.

via http://www.dream-interpretation.co.uk

Well. This is about as clear as it gets to me. This references me back a couple of posts to one titled Les Miserables. I am reminded of the advice of a dear friend, that no matter what, the offending entity deserves to be lifted up in prayer (thanks, E). Just imagine if Jesus picked and chose who he wanted to love! So, it doesn’t matter if they want it or not. No matter what – it’s my responsibility to do this.

Thanks for another good one, dreamland.


The white-assed bee

Keith really entertains me with his love for nature. Early last spring, it was a little box turtle he rescued from a job site that came home to live with him for about 4 months. The little thing was such a carnivore! Keith would diligently go out and ‘fetch’ him worms, and the tiny little turtle would just ravish them. ‘Autobot’ was later released in a nice little pond-like area.

When the time comes, which is soon – there will be black snakes a’plenty. Let me say right up front that I am not a snake person, not even close. This said, upon hearing my screams, Keith will go pick up said snake and transport it to a nearby tree. I personally think these snakes adore him – I say that because one climbed up to his kitchen window to get another glimpse of him last spring. Of course I got a picture of it!

They call him… the snake whisperer.

As it happened, this past weekend was to be insect weekend. From the front porch K motioned for me to come look through the storm door. He was holding a dragonfly, it’s little legs wrapped tight around his finger. He told me it was still a young one (obviously my understanding of the dragonfly aging-process needs work). K’s eagle-eyes found Junior on the ground and said he would be in danger if he got caught there during the looming storm.

And what a storm it was to be. Never in my life have I seen anything larger than quarter-sized hail. Saturday though, we got Kansas hail – baseball-sized. We happened to make national news with this one! I shall call it… Carolina Hail.

I guess I should realize by now, my man doesn’t exaggerate… he just doesn’t have it in him. Chuckle if you want to on that – but I can guarantee if you call him on something he tells you, you’ll lose. I quite simply adore this wonderful trait he possesses.

When I arrived at his house Friday, he told me about this carpenter bee who was running around with a white ass because of him. Carpenter bees are territorial and like to ‘hover’ – add to that the fact that they’re huge. K had been painting some louvered doors outside, and apparently this one wanted to hover in his face. After several failed attempts at rerouting the bee, he inadvertently swiped at it with the paintbrush in his hand. He said it sped off down the street. About an hour later, the bee showed back up at his house, sporting a white ass! Doubting Thomas over here asked if he was sure it was that exact bee, and did it really have a white ass. He calmly said yes, it was that bee and yes, it did.

The next day, we were ready to leave and he pointed up in the air beside him, laughing. Sure enough, said bee turned 90º to look at him (like the snakes, even the bees seem to love him – even after being swiped by a loaded paintbrush) and sure enough it had a white ass! Not just a dot, either – a genuine big white bee-ass! Come yesterday, it’s still guarding that section of the house. My stomach is literally sore from laughing at that, umm-hmm, particular end of the bee.

Sorry for the language, but it’s Keith’s story and that’s what he’s called it from the beginning. It just gives more ooomph to the storyline. Seriously, would a bee with a white butt be funny? Not so much. But a bee with a white ass? Now that’s hilarious…

Are you kidding, of course we got a picture!

Footnote: for all you insect-lovers… no bashing, please. Mr. Carpenter is alive and well, and doing a marvelous job of guarding his assigned spot on the side of the house. In this picture taken Monday 11 Apr, he’s actually hovering above the bricks, as Keith followed him around to get a detailed picture. As of yesterday, the remaining paint looks as though it’s ready to flake off any minute – I only wish we could’ve gotten a shot when his whole, umm, rear, was white!


Le Miserables

24-5-11, Addendum

Apparently, the context of this post has sparked some debate as to exactly who the intended target was. This should be considered my response.

I’ll start off with a gentle reminder that this is MY blog. Although I remain flattered that anything I write could be of a holding interest to anyone – if you choose to negatively dissect a particular post on my blog, I feel that you should consider creating and managing your own blog. They’re absolutely free of charge.

Secondly, I have always taken the utmost care to protect the perimeter of any issue I choose to write about. A person’s anonymity has and always will be of utmost concern. In actuality, this post could have been written about anyone – male or female, young or old, family, friend, colleague, or person at Walmart for that matter. There will be no apologies offered for any assumptions that were made.

Thirdly, please read this post again. Now. If you openly admit to identifying with some or all of the traits I listed, you can rest assured that a problem exists. If you so note yourself exhibiting these traits, note that there’s a problem. If you actually sat there while reading this post and hand-picked traits that pertained to you… I’ll say it once more – there is a problem. 

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How do you handle a miserable person? Specifically, an individual with anger issues? A person who, for the life of them, will not let up on their pathetic antics until they’ve brought down an individual or entire group around them?

This type of individual must constantly be handled with kid gloves. Anything can and will set them off. They trust no one, and view the entire civilization around them as a threatening hell who is out to get them. The miserable person has few, if any, friends.

Upon successfully downing others, they appear to be on a ‘high’ for a while. You see, bringing others down brings the miserable person much satisfaction. Truth be told, this individual is the epitome of selfish. There are many highs and lows, indicative of something even more serious than meets the eye. They have the uncanny ability to reach deep within their brain and pick out a person responsible for every single bad thing that has ever happened to them.

Back to my initial question – how do you handle a miserable person? I’ll tell you the only way I know of – which is to totally cut them from your life, by whatever means necessary. One thing’s for sure – life is way too short. At this point, my patience level has been far too exhausted to entertain any other option.


Just a thought for today

We seem to be going through a period of nostalgia, where everyone seems to think yesterday was better than today. I don’t think it was, and I would advise you not to wait ten years before admitting today was great. If you’re still hung up on nostalgia… pretend today is yesterday, and just go out and have one hell of a time. ~Art Buchwald


Selfless; antonym

K was supposed to get his daughter over the weekend. In talking to her last night, she told him she really wanted to spend time with her boyfriend. Although he was disappointed, he told her sure. He understands what comes first in a 14-yr old girls life – friends and boys. It’s not been so long ago that my own daughter was that age, and once upon a time I was that teenager, too.

I understand that K and his ex had a difficult divorce. I’m also well aware of how she kept his daughter from him for almost 2 years of her life, and how much he missed her. When all is said and done, a 2-year wedge is hard to remove. What I don’t understand is this. WHY can’t parents share a common ground when it comes to the child they supposedly love so much? To me, it’s selfish – plain and simple. I’ll say it again because it very much bears repeating – SELFISH. It accomplishes nothing but hurting your child. An example, you ask? Well, here ya go.

Last year, Keith, his daughter, my daughter and I went to the local theme park. That same day he was sweet enough to buy all four of us season passes for the following (2011) year. Since we live so close, he figured it a great investment for an entire summer of fun. While on the phone with his daughter last night, she mentioned that her mother was getting her a season pass. K asked why, that she already had one and didn’t need it. She replied that her mother wasn’t going to let her bring her pass to his house when it was ‘his weekend’. He said, ‘but you won’t have to, because you’ll have the one I bought you – why would you need two passes?’ She never could really answer why. You see, he has no problem with her using her pass whenever she wants… that includes when she’s at home with mom. It’s hers. He bought it for her unconditional use. Apparently, mom’s rules are a bit skewed.

I can only go by past antics, but when ‘his weekend’ rolls around his daughter might show up with no pass (the one he bought) because mom won’t allow her to bring it.

Rule #253… no fun allowed at dad’s, ever.

So now what? Will K be forced to keep the pass at his house, so she’ll have one when he gets her for the weekend? Seriously… what benefit could this whole thing possibly have for their daughter? More importantly, what lesson could it be teaching her?

Aside from the obvious… how about ‘how to waste money the most economical way possible’? Yeah. Hats off to ya there.


Working power, not necessarily in that order.

Though not from lack of trying, I’m unable to throw this virus or whatever it is. This is one time I didn’t go running to the doctor after a day or two of an obviously kickass whatever-it-is set in. It’s now officially a day over two weeks and I’m still left with a chest full of something –  the difference is that everything has tightened up now. No good. I decided yesterday to made a doc appointment for this afternoon, so I’ll see what’s going on then. At this point anything will be an improvement!

I am Bon… I am Frontierwoman, hear me roar. I’ve had no power since about 1am this morning. The piedmont had winds up to 90mph wisk through the area last night, and currently over 250M people and 30 schools are without power. Stop lights are out everywhere, power lines are down and traffic is mayhem. Trying to get ready for work by candlelight this morning was hilarious — honestly I think I’d have done better in the dark.

Seriously, it’s the little things. Like power. And working in peace. Well, maybe those aren’t such little things…


The Town of Blowing Rock

It’s one of my favorite places. Basically, I love everything associated with the majestic Blue Ridge mountains – the Parkway, the scenic overlooks, the endless trails to choose from, the attractions like Linville Falls and Taverns, Chimney and Blowing Rocks. And I adore all the little towns in between.

They apparently received some more of the white stuff up there on Saturday. We saw a few small piles of snow scattered on the sides of the road as well as leftover brime. It was a perfectly weathered day to walk the town of Blowing Rock, with the afternoon high reaching about 65º. We hit all our favorite shops like Poppy’s and The Last Straw, and even bought a couple of things. Keith bought a couple of the led wax candles, that actually have timers on them! I thought it was so neat that we’ll never have to touch them except to replace the batteries. I bought something I’ve had my eye on now for over a year… those little battery illuminated willow branches that compliment a large vase arrangement.

It’s nice to walk up and down the streets of a quaint little town while holding hands, never being in a hurry. I always find myself wishing we could stay longer. Of course, the trip wouldn’t have been complete without a trip to Kilwin’s for some homemade fudge. Like I really needed another couple pounds! Oh well, maybe I can spread it out a little so that it doesn’t accumulate all at once…

Visit the Town of Blowing Rock online


31 March

Today is the 90th day of the year, that means there are 275 days left until the end of the year. Can you believe it? I’m a numbers gal, so naturally I found myself analyzing the setup of the date today. 3-31-11, let’s see… to me that translates into three 3’s. That would equal to 9, which divided by 3 is 3. For the 90th day of the year, divide that by 3 and it’s 30. Seems like 3’s are going to dominate today! *clearing throat* Yep, it’s just another day here in the Life of Bon.

I don’t know about the rest of you but here in the southeast, everything has ‘arrived’ a month early – with the big prize being Spring. It started with constant warmer temperatures in early February, then the winds that usually accompany March arrived. In March, the rain that usually accompanies April arrived. People have long since started with their Spring planting, and the new leaves have adorned the trees for weeks now.

I’m guessing June bugs will be next on the list. 

Surreal

I’m looking so forward to my move, I really am. The emotions that come with this move are high, though – higher than those who would be making that ‘generic’ move from one place to another. To me, the home I currently reside in represents the beginning of a brand new life following a failed marriage of 21 years. This home I’m in – it’s a staple in my life. It might seem weird to most of you, but I actually knew shortly after I moved here that if and when the time came to ever leave, it would be more than emotionally challenging. Of course back then, I couldn’t even imagine there would come a time when I would leave.

But the time is coming. It’s all so surreal. Slowly but surely, I’m gathering everything together.

I ran out of paper towels last night, so I went to fetch an extra roll. I realized it would probably be the last roll of paper towels that I would ever replenish here. The forest beyond me has morphed into my very favorite look… it’s like an artist has taken their tiny brush and dab dab dabbed little hints of green on the ends of all the branches.

All of the forest is flourishing. Each new spring, this continues to represent promise and hope to me. It’s so very beautiful. The deer will make their nightly trek through the woods, on time nearly every night. Soon I’ll hear the nightly hum of boats cruising the lake again, for a short while…

I have to accept the fact these are the last times that I’ll be gazing at this beautiful forest I’ve called my own for 3 years. Honestly, just opening an empty cupboard in the kitchen can make my eyes well up.

It’s surreal. In fact to me, this is the epitome of surreal.


Dreamlets

Sometimes dreams are a blessing, other times they can be a real hindrance. Goodness gracious, they sure were a hindrance last night. It took a while this morning to ‘shake loose’ the lasting impression the combination of them made.

First it was my boyfriend, who was acting weird to say the least. The dream started with him covering for his brother, who was cheating on his wife. I came in his house, and there was this baby in a crib! I asked who the baby was, and was told it belonged to the skank his brother was cheating with. I was so perturbed at this – at both a) the fact that his brother was cheating (totally not something he would ever do) AND b) it was a Saturday night and we now had a baby to watch. As time ellapsed, my boyfriend’s face would morph into that of my ex-husbands, and form that sneer at me. I packed my stuff and went back home without him even trying to stop me.

I then ended up at some restaurant with some woman that I don’t know. I spotted an acquaintance, who just happens to be my ex-husband’s ex (I think) girlfriend. It was her birthday, and she was surrounded by many people who were there to celebrate with her. I went up to say hello, she saw me and smiled – and it appeared to me that she’d been crying. Her gaze then went beyond me, and in walked my ex who had come there to see her. They both stood up and hugged and cried. I remember feeling so very awkward standing there at that moment, and just wanted to melt into the floor.

There’s been a couple of recent happenings that likely, no DID, manifest within my dreams last night. After writing each dream down, I can just about pull and match each issue/incident to the dream/misrepresentation. It feels as though I’ve had no sleep at all… guess I’ll roll the dice once again tonight in hopes of scoring some dreamless sleep.


Reasoning

I believe everything happens for a reason – I’ve always believed that. Sometimes we don’t know why at the time… oftentimes we’ll never know the reason. I still believe it all the same though, and it’s honestly something I’ve never questioned.

I’ve been thinking recently about the people who come in and out of our lives and the directions it takes us. Sometimes these people are new and fresh – sometimes it’s someone from our past. It’s possible that a person can make a re-entrance into your life many years later – with you both taking solace from one another from a certain event. Maybe questions need answering. Perhaps you just need to be heard. Maybe you need validation from each other about something you went through, or of the pain inflicted by a person common in both your lives at the time.

Whatever the case may be, I remain thankful for every individual in my life that has came, went, and made a re-entrance.


Inconcinnus

We’ve all been caught in an embarrassing position. A scene that, much to our chagrin, turns us red quicker than a freshly boiled lobster. Being caught in a sticky situation makes you wish you could just melt away from it… oh, if it were only that easy.

At this point, I find it very comical that the subject of my last post was about a wedding.

A week ago, my boyfriend’s dear aunt passed away. I never had the pleasure of meeting her, a real shame since I’ve heard many people speak so very highly of her. Realizing a funeral isn’t the optimal situation to meet your boyfriend’s family members, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to meeting a few that were coming in from out of state.

In the last few moments before we left, we were saying our final goodbyes. From the beginning, there’s been nothing but positive input and vibes from his family – always making me feel so welcomed. Then, here it comes. (Folks, it took me such by surprise that I can’t remember the exact words used… so I’ll do my best to paraphrase.) Something was asked about how long K and I had been together, to which I replied going on two years now. The conversation ensued from there…

Family member: Oh, you ought to just go ahead and get married.

Me: *red*red* **oh, hail, miss brightass-red** I look over at said family member, shaking my head ever so slightly left-to-right in attempt to avert the subject (wondering which direction my dear K’s sight was aimed as well). I also mouth a NO. Unfortunately, I now realize that this mega-defensive act was likely perceived as a sign that old Bon never again wishes to wed… which of course isn’t the case.

Family member: Oh c’mon… you know you want to!

Me: *screaming to myself on the inside, ‘WHAT DO I DO??’* So I stammer: ohhh… well – we ARE moving in together this summer…  **another desperate attempt to thwart said subject matter** (Immediately I realize I could not have picked a more inappropriate time to mention our moving in together… a family funeral, of all things.)

Ugghh… another epic Bon FAIL.

The truth is, I have very strong feelings on the subject. A couple of my close friends feel the same as I do, for very valid reasons. In another lifetime many years ago, I was the first to ‘suggest’ marriage with my now ex-husband – I was two months with child at the time. As the years went along, many of our arguments would result in him ‘reminding’ me of this. Trust me when I say these instances never added any valuable building blocks to the relationship – instead it only allowed hurt and embarrassment to grow and fester within me. The backlash of a southern ‘shotgun wedding’ via the good old Justice of the Peace in York County, SC seemed to always be on the forefront of his mind.

Never again. This is something that can make you feel unworthy for a lifetime.

No, if it ever happens again, it won’t be coming from my mouth. I made a pact with myself a long time ago that I’d never utter words that even hint of it – no siree Bob. Besides, why would I need to when others do it for me?


Bridge Over Troubled Water

I was talking to my mother last night, and the topic of worry came up. After some discussion as to some things that were bothering me, she asked ‘Where does it get you, really? And what does it accomplish?’ I had no answer.

©www.deviantart.com

I know prayer is the main key when you’re feeling overwhelmed, but I confess it doesn’t always quell the worry inside me. Of course all a person has to do when they feel the weight of the world on their shoulders is look around – for there’s always someone very near who has it a lot worse. It’s not that it makes you feel better – just lets you know that you’re not alone, and that perhaps what you have going on pales in comparison to theirs.

Worry can come from a variety of things. Too many bills, not enough money. A sick relative. Being unemployed. Health problems of your own. Drug or alcohol addiction of yourself or a loved one. Being bullied at school. Being bullied at work. A variety of these or other things can be a constant source of a knotting stomach and intense worry, as well as a variety of other emotions.

A long time ago, when I was just a kid, I found this religious tract somewhere that stated something along the lines of “Why Worry?? Don’t be a smudgepot!!” What was the meaning of this? I have no earthly idea other than saying not to worry, that we should let God handle things in His way. I remember my Mother and Grandmother seemed so impressed that I’d hit on such an integral subject at what appeared to be a much-needed time. I often think about that tract, and wish that I had it now so that I may fully absorb it’s contents. Something tells me the value within it’s pages was priceless.


Literary, literally

I was browsing through bookmarks yesterday and was surprised to find my ‘Letter to my Sixteen-Year-Old Self’ was still on the front page of the Simon and Schuster site. I realize this is because nothing else has been posted since they posted mine, but gotta admit – I still like seeing it…

©dearmebooks.com

Me: so uh, I’ve been wondering… could I act all crazy like some Hollywood dude is doing right now and get my writing noticed?

Voice of reality: *clearing throat* uhhh, no Bon – see, you have to be famous beforehand for that to work.

For sheer sheen entertainment purposes, I thought I’d share a copy of Charlie’s most recent tweet. I’ll have to say I’ve been enjoying the literary stance he’s taking…

Happy Friday, everyone!! 🙂


Sir and Ma’am… please and thank you.

It seems like the days are few and far between now when we hear these words used.

Have you ever been present when someone actually takes offense to being called sir or ma’am? Sometimes a person reacts so strongly that they make you feel like you did something wrong. In my experience, most have been female. A while back I heard a woman react horribly to a young lad for simply being courteous. “I’ll have you know I am not old enough to be a ma’am, young man!” she retorted. The boy looked crushed and didn’t know what to say to her. I’ll never forget how hard it was to resist kicking her teeth in at that very moment. With one swipe of her sharp tongue, she successfully crapped on ten years of respectful upbringing. At the very least, she planted doubt in the method.

I call a female ma’am. I’ll call a gentleman sir. It’s not just a southern thing. Sometimes they’re older than me – sometimes they’re younger. I don’t and won’t ever consider it a slam. You see, to me it’s not about age at all – just plain old respect.

How about the kids today? Okay, not all, just most. At least the ones in my city, USA. GIMMIE!!!! NOW!!!! Hey kid… a please will likely get you that lollipop you’re screaming so loudly for in Cracker Barrel. And not if but when your parent gives in and buys you that thing you’re screaming for – how about a thank you? And whatever happened to excuse me? Excuse me’s come more in the form of an eye-roll nowadays. Yeah, you get my drift –  all these words are grossly underused. Sadly enough, manners are simply becoming a thing of the past.

Come to think of it, I think we just might benefit from a Sir/Ma’am/Please/Thank You/Excuse Me University. Starting at Pre-K.

Yes sir. Errr, ma’am


Newness arrives again

Spring has sprung in the metro Carolinas. Ready or not – here it comes! Although admittedly wary, for weeks now I’ve been stoked with thoughts of an early Spring. Now that the trees are blooming, I’m in ecstatic-mode!

Pink blossoms outside Belk this weekend...

I’m not unrealistic about the frost getting the blooms, and have actually resolved myself to the fact they probably will. But I’ll enjoy it while they last and hey, at least there’s no forecast of frost for the next 10 days!! To boot, in my mind this late-February bloom-pop signals an extra-long Summer! Whoo-hoo!!

Bradford Pear outside my work entrance... already!!


As Time Goes By

I have no idea where time is going. It’s flying by so quickly and I feel I’m getting nothing done – not the things that are really tops on my to-do list, anyway.

I want to get started on some brochure work I promised a friend for her side business. I miss writing!! I want to spend more time with my family. I want to catch up on the few blogs I follow. I seriously need to get a grip on my time management skills. And I need to start packing to move. Hey Bon… would you like some cheese with that whine?

I haven’t mushed and gushed about romance for awhile and boy do I feel the need… so if this topic isn’t for you then this is quite possibly your stopping point. When exactly did I start believing that my Prince actually did exist? I can’t say exactly. All I can say now is that he does. In him, I have found everything and more that I thought never existed in a soulmate. I have happened upon a treasure – one that I want to expose to the entire world. Sometimes I find myself feeling paranoid that something is going to ruin what could only be described as my fairy tale love affair. I worry about car accidents, deadly diseases and crime. I know I shouldn’t, the Lord takes care of everything in His way – but I worry just the same. I mentioned this to my daughter, and you know what her response was? ‘Mom, that’s an actual condition associated with an anxiety disorder. It’s not that uncommon and if it’s really bothering you, there’s help for it‘.

That’s my little psychology major.

So, play it once, Sam, for old times sake…


Finality

An end result can hit you in the face with the same impact as a thrown brick, even if it’s something that’s been coming on for a while. Especially if it’s been coming on for a while, since the inevitable seems to lay dormant even more so.

The emotions of a mirrored past are thick – but flow swiftly, and justly. Even so, they lie bare and open to the focus of others. We often feel the need to either avert, hide or thwart these emotions (thanks, human nature). Therefore, once we’re faced with the reality of finality, BAM!! there goes that brick to the cheek.

Where and when one door closes, another has usually already opened – or is waiting to. This ever-wise quote has provided comfort to many, myself included. I do hope it provides that same comfort to those who might read this.

The finalities in life aren’t always as we might perceive them. Just as a brook or waterfall continually recycles itself… finality may also serve as a means to better yourself as an individual. To protect and heighten your own standards. The chance now exists to persuade your own self of going that extra mile. To further yourself in a way you never thought possible… to perhaps exceed your own expectations.

For you.


Don’t forget to name your posts

The day is bright and springlike outside. No fires in the fireplace this weekend, more like shorts, tank tops and flips! The trees and flowers are starting to bud… but there will surely be some frost to come to snap us all back into reality. Even so, I’m gonna ride this sprint of Spring for all it’s worth. Besides, I still have a few more poundages to lose before it finally does get here!

Later today we’re going to see K’s mom for her birthday and get a bite of dinner. I absolutely adore her, and we’ve actually got a lot in common. She, too, embarked upon a new life not so very long ago – and she’s managing that new life quite well.

Tomorrow ushers in the beginning of the prize of the South… NASCAR season. I don’t follow it like I used to, gosh we used to be at those races about every time the gates were open. Unfortunately I most enjoy napping in front of a race now. The Daytona 500 though… well, ya just can’t miss that one. And Dale Earnhardt, what can I say about him. Doesn’t seem like ten years have passed since he lost his life at this track. Now there’s an icon that’ll never be matched…

Springlike, yes. Sunday afternoon… yeah that sounds good too. Enjoy this new one from Rascal Flatts’ most recent album – and everyone enjoy each other… and the days ahead.


Boxton Love

Oh how I’ve missed my doggie lovin’. For years now, I’ve so yearned to have a dog again – I still have frequent dreams about my past furbabies. Everyone else’s dogs love the fact I’m still without, however – since they get extras whenever I’m around.

In fact, that’s what they refer to me as whenever I enter the room… The Extra. “Hey, Buddy!! Here comes The Extra!! Are YOU ready to RUMMMMM-BLLLLLE…???”

It seems as though I’ve always had a dog in my life, and I miss having one terribly. Just by pure happenstance, a certain picture got passed before me yesterday. I thought of nothing else all day long – this sweet little face that belonged to a Boston/Boxer Mix was like a slide that remained fixed in my blinders the entire day. The little pink ears and pads, his curious but loving eyes, the wrinkles on his kissable little head, and that strawberry character mark on those (yes, kissable again) characteristically boxer lips.

He’s a rescue, and he’s 3 years old – house-trained, all shots, good health, calm, friendly, good with kids, and has been described as a ‘social butterfly’ at the dog park. All 35 lbs of him. The original owners surrendered him due to finances, which is sad. Unfortunately we’re hearing of this more and more often.

I talked to the ‘rescuers’ this morning – good people. I won’t be able to meet him until Monday or Tuesday of next week since they’re going to the mountains this weekend. A good home is all anyone can ask for when it comes to our furbabies! The picture of this little boy has really stolen my heart like no other has the past few years… and this is the first dog I’ve actually called on. The only thing I’m concerned with is the possibility of him not getting along with Camille – of course that’s mandatory.

Is this not the most irresistible little boy you’ve ever seen??

I can’t wait to meet him.
(Just look at that little character mark….)