When we moved to our house seventeen years ago - just about everyone north, south and east of us had a dog. We had one - and quickly snapped up another. Butch and Jack. Less-than-perfect specimen Westies, but just right for us.
Among the immediate neighborhood dogs was Max the sweet faced standard poodle. Harley the happy Golden retriever. A big black lab whose name escapes me at the moment. And there was Rico. Rico was a Schnauzer. High strung. Vocal. Well groomed. And ornery. His owners walked him on a regular schedule four times a day while the rest of us relied on long leashes tethered to our porches. (Walks were reserved for "special times") He would begin barking the moment his paws hit the pavement and not stop until he returned home. It was annoying but tolerable. To us. The other dogs - they hated him. Little did I know that my sweet, well-behaved boys were planning to kill him.
Rico appeared to have a sixth sense about where he could go to piss off other dogs. He loved to lift his leg on our mailbox pole and he took his time doing it. He barked while he peed and always focused his beady eyes on our front door....where our guys were frantic, howling, growling maniacs. He brought out the worst in them. We all hated him. We called him The Yipper.
In his brief 8 years on earth, Butch managed to escape the house twice while Rico was on his neighborhood prowl. I did not know this side of Butch. Only Rico brought him out. He had teeth - big ugly vampirish fangs and a growl that could humble a wolf. Both times he wriggled loose from my husband, ran to the road and lunged at his long-time enemy. Once, he actually scored and brought blood. (Yea, we had to pay). And Rico?...both times he turned into a whiny sniveling girl, jumping into his owner's arms while she protected him from our vicious dog.
Rico's owners hated us. (They still do) When Butch died at the age of 8 from cancer, I'm sure they celebrated. JAck was more timid than Butch. He tried to kill Rico - but we restrained him. The daily bark-walks and pee-offs continued. Then we got Nathan and , just like Butch and Jack, Nathan hated Rico. The day Nathan escaped and attacked Rico we were visited by our friendly local law enforcement guys. They took one look at our little dachshund and asked, "Is this the vicious dog?" (Nathan was busy being cute and cuddly and lovin that officer up) "Yes Sir." "Well he don't look very vicious to me - I'll just give you a warning." Whew. It didn't quite end there either. Nathan (after some serious training) would run to the edge of the yard AS IF he were going to run into the road and attack Rico. Rico had developed an automatic response of jumping into his owner's arms and squealing. The owner had developed a nasty scowl. "Do I have to call the police again?" she asked one day. :"Be my guest," I responded,". he never left the yard. Can't get a ticket for pretending or barking or you'd already have one." So there. Very mature response.
When Jack died of cancer (yea, we don't have good luck with dogs) we got Rudy. Rudy hated Rico on sight. He also ran into the road one day to get him but just stood at the owners feet and barked instead. He's a coward. Our newest dog Stella doesn't like Rico - but she doesn't like any dog. It was when Stella came that I noticed something had changed. Rico still walked everyday. But he was quiet. My guys often don't notice when he trots by.
Rico has grown old. He is fifteen. His legs are spindly, his fur is sparse. Today I noticed he was unsteady on his feet. His owner had to coax him down the street.. He is very very skinny. As I sat in my car, waiting for them to pass my driveway, I felt like crying. I choked up. Rico is ancient in dog years. I don't hate him anymore. I respect him. I am growing older too and I get it. I nodded at his owner -who glared at me. (Oh well.) I am sad that Rico will soon be gone. He outlived every dog in the neighborhood including three of mine. I cannot believe I am saying this but I will miss him.
Who knew?.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Wednesday, April 10, 2013
So tell me a little about yourself
Someone actually asked me this a few weeks ago. She must have read that old book that Barbara Walters wrote in the 70's - How to Talk to Anyone About Anything". Barbara's advice always leaned towards asking the other person questions about him/herself. It's good advice. But, let's be honest, you really don't care what the person says most of the time....and you don't need to read the book.
Anyway - she had asked several people and I'd heard the usual ten minute excuses for lives dully lived. I'd never met this woman before and the likelihood of ever seeing her again was slim. So I answered with my oft imagined and as-of-yet -never -spoken' fantasy answer
Here goes:
Well, I'm a 65 year old woman who was born in San Francisco to a woman who was way ahead of her time and never bothered to marry my Dad so she could get away from him as soon as she'd had a baby. I lived with them in New York and supported them by modeling till I collapsed from exhaustion at five and was sent to live with my grandparents till my mom could ditch him and find someone else - whom she would marry this time. After finding a likely candidate my mother wrestled me from my grandparents and dragged me back to New York/New Jersey where I lived a sort of normal life on the surface and took every advantage of being in and around New York City.. What I didn't know was my step dad was in trouble with the mafia and they wanted to kill us. Not knowing this I went away to college at 17 while my parents were planning to flee the state with minimal help from the Department of Justice. For four years I didn't know where they were or if they were alive. They rarely contacted me. I had to find a way to get thru school on my own. I was lucky. I had guardian angels.
I've been really really in love twice and I have been married three times. I did not marry the "Really really" guys. I've slept with over 60 men - (some while married to number 1 and number 2) I have not regretted one single time. I have many funny sex stories to share with people who need a laugh. I don't sleep around now...too tired.
My mother always told me to never have children cause "they'll ruin your life"...so I didn't want any. I got pregnant at 30 but aborted it cause the baby daddy didn't know what to say to his wife....When I decided I did want a child I was 36 and my husband was sterile. We adopted. My mother was right.
I've had great marketing and government careers that I fell into. I have no real skills. People like me and they hire me. Let me clarify - men like me. Women won't hire me. Even now when I'm so much older and my hair is grey. Women don't like me. I can live with that. I tried to reinvent myself by going back to school to become a counselor. I finished the master's and hated the work. It's been downhill ever since. Sometimes I work for a friend...I'm still figuring out what to do with the next 15 years.
Silence.
I don't think she'll ask that question again.
Anyway - she had asked several people and I'd heard the usual ten minute excuses for lives dully lived. I'd never met this woman before and the likelihood of ever seeing her again was slim. So I answered with my oft imagined and as-of-yet -never -spoken' fantasy answer
Here goes:
Well, I'm a 65 year old woman who was born in San Francisco to a woman who was way ahead of her time and never bothered to marry my Dad so she could get away from him as soon as she'd had a baby. I lived with them in New York and supported them by modeling till I collapsed from exhaustion at five and was sent to live with my grandparents till my mom could ditch him and find someone else - whom she would marry this time. After finding a likely candidate my mother wrestled me from my grandparents and dragged me back to New York/New Jersey where I lived a sort of normal life on the surface and took every advantage of being in and around New York City.. What I didn't know was my step dad was in trouble with the mafia and they wanted to kill us. Not knowing this I went away to college at 17 while my parents were planning to flee the state with minimal help from the Department of Justice. For four years I didn't know where they were or if they were alive. They rarely contacted me. I had to find a way to get thru school on my own. I was lucky. I had guardian angels.
I've been really really in love twice and I have been married three times. I did not marry the "Really really" guys. I've slept with over 60 men - (some while married to number 1 and number 2) I have not regretted one single time. I have many funny sex stories to share with people who need a laugh. I don't sleep around now...too tired.
My mother always told me to never have children cause "they'll ruin your life"...so I didn't want any. I got pregnant at 30 but aborted it cause the baby daddy didn't know what to say to his wife....When I decided I did want a child I was 36 and my husband was sterile. We adopted. My mother was right.
I've had great marketing and government careers that I fell into. I have no real skills. People like me and they hire me. Let me clarify - men like me. Women won't hire me. Even now when I'm so much older and my hair is grey. Women don't like me. I can live with that. I tried to reinvent myself by going back to school to become a counselor. I finished the master's and hated the work. It's been downhill ever since. Sometimes I work for a friend...I'm still figuring out what to do with the next 15 years.
Silence.
I don't think she'll ask that question again.
Legion Hall addendum
I keep promising that I will stop talking about my hair. But this is brief and it's been two weeks and I'm still ticked.
So - there I was at election headquarters. Stunned by what was happening. I looked up to see one of my husband's poker buddies enter with his wife. I have a twisted history with this woman and the rest of the poker wives. They decided not to like me before they met me. This would have been understandable if I had helped to break up Bob's marriage...but I hadn't. His wife left him for someone else. I guess they just didn't like my face. I am certain that neither the wives nor I suffered much of a loss.
Because I have trained myself to rise above bs, I worked my way across the room. I tapped Mrs. Wifey on the shoulder and said "HI. " She turned, her eyes flew open. She pulled her neck and head back and distorted her face so it looked like she was walking into a wind machine. Silent for just a moment she responded, "Oooooh. Diane warned me about your hair!" That was it.
Bitch
So - there I was at election headquarters. Stunned by what was happening. I looked up to see one of my husband's poker buddies enter with his wife. I have a twisted history with this woman and the rest of the poker wives. They decided not to like me before they met me. This would have been understandable if I had helped to break up Bob's marriage...but I hadn't. His wife left him for someone else. I guess they just didn't like my face. I am certain that neither the wives nor I suffered much of a loss.
Because I have trained myself to rise above bs, I worked my way across the room. I tapped Mrs. Wifey on the shoulder and said "HI. " She turned, her eyes flew open. She pulled her neck and head back and distorted her face so it looked like she was walking into a wind machine. Silent for just a moment she responded, "Oooooh. Diane warned me about your hair!" That was it.
Bitch
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Pissed at the Legion Hall
My nightmare. I am inside an American Legion Hall in a room full of angry old white men and their dried- apple-faced wives. I have just shaken hands with two judges who - at one time or another-have sent my son to jail. They are flanked by two assistant district attorneys who have - at one time or another- helped send my son to jail. (My son, of course, has also helped send himself to jail) I am in a room full of Republicans on primary election eve. I am a Democrat. And I need a drink.
This is not a nightmare...it is actually happening.
I'll start at the end. My candidate lost. A victim of his party's guiding principle of revenge and punish. My candidate is a friend (his wife, bless her heart, is a Liberal) and he has just lost a judgeship (is that a word?) that he has had for 19 years. Was he a bad judge? Nope - even his opponent said he had no criticism in that corner. Heck - this guy was voted Judge of the Year two years ago, What then was his sin? He signed a petition a year ago to recall our Governor. The party wanted to punish him and said so. I guess they got their wish.They outspent him 4:1. They produced vile campaign literature. They enlisted the help of our equivalent of Rush Limbaugh. Roadsides were plastered with his opponent's signs. Robo calls filled the days and nights, All for revenge, And it worked. That sure says a lot about Republican values.
The winner has minimal courtroom experience.He was barely able to function at a recent debate and didn't even know the difference between "pro bono" and "pro se". Even I know that. He says he's "seen a lot of judges" so he knows how it's done. I watch Dancing With the Stars - so I guess I must know how to dance.
Absent a White Rabbit to remind me of the time or a pill to make me smaller, I do what any self-respecting Liberal would do in a room full of Conservatives - I drink. I suck at drinking. Basically non-functional after two glasses of wine - I tell my husband (a conservative by the way) to get me another. This request has irony since he is usually the one who is drunk. I warn him to stay sober so we can get home. The only thing clear to me after that is I said the "F" word a lot. I told my husband's poker buddies and their snarky wives that :I hate Republicans -" you're all stupid and mean!" (I'm good with words).
The soon-to-be ex-judge has been officially shunned - just like Chris Christie. It looks like you have to sing the company song in Wisconsin or (as Heidi Klum says) "One day you're in - and the next day you're out").
This is not a nightmare...it is actually happening.
I'll start at the end. My candidate lost. A victim of his party's guiding principle of revenge and punish. My candidate is a friend (his wife, bless her heart, is a Liberal) and he has just lost a judgeship (is that a word?) that he has had for 19 years. Was he a bad judge? Nope - even his opponent said he had no criticism in that corner. Heck - this guy was voted Judge of the Year two years ago, What then was his sin? He signed a petition a year ago to recall our Governor. The party wanted to punish him and said so. I guess they got their wish.They outspent him 4:1. They produced vile campaign literature. They enlisted the help of our equivalent of Rush Limbaugh. Roadsides were plastered with his opponent's signs. Robo calls filled the days and nights, All for revenge, And it worked. That sure says a lot about Republican values.
The winner has minimal courtroom experience.He was barely able to function at a recent debate and didn't even know the difference between "pro bono" and "pro se". Even I know that. He says he's "seen a lot of judges" so he knows how it's done. I watch Dancing With the Stars - so I guess I must know how to dance.
Absent a White Rabbit to remind me of the time or a pill to make me smaller, I do what any self-respecting Liberal would do in a room full of Conservatives - I drink. I suck at drinking. Basically non-functional after two glasses of wine - I tell my husband (a conservative by the way) to get me another. This request has irony since he is usually the one who is drunk. I warn him to stay sober so we can get home. The only thing clear to me after that is I said the "F" word a lot. I told my husband's poker buddies and their snarky wives that :I hate Republicans -" you're all stupid and mean!" (I'm good with words).
The soon-to-be ex-judge has been officially shunned - just like Chris Christie. It looks like you have to sing the company song in Wisconsin or (as Heidi Klum says) "One day you're in - and the next day you're out").
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Hallelujah...
Once every thirty-eight years poet/writer/singer Leonard Cohen comes to my city. He says he doesn't want to make a "pest" of himself. It's pretty safe to say I just saw him for the last time. He's in his mid to late 70's and if you add 38 more years before the next concert, we're both dead.
I was born and raised on the east coast. Living in close proximity to Manhattan gave me incredible access to
t he arts. I discovered Leonard quite a while ago and then caught him again in the late 60's at the Newport Jazz festival. I never forgot him. I buy his music.And I no longer wonder if he's dead each time he retreats to a monastery. Don't all Jewish men do that?
I must have harbored a low opinion of my fellow Milwaukeans prior to this concert. I was concerned that not enough people would buy tickets (like this was my problem?) But the place was packed. The age range spanned older teens to frail elderly. (Am I still an east coast snob? I found myself wondering) I did a lot of crowd-watching - being especially drawn to women with grey, white or silver hair. Why? Because I hate my grey/silver/black hair and I wanted to see how other women pulled it off.
AS one might expect at a Cohen gathering, there were the requisite long haired-hippie/beatnik types. They looked old and washed out (which is how I feel even though I get a $55 haircut from a really cool stylist every 10 weeks). They wore long granny skirts and - if it hadn't been snowy outside - would probably have sported Birkenstocks. But a lot of the women were simply lovely. How do they do that? They seemed comfortable with their aged locks...dressed well...and obviously were making a statement about being comfortable with this aging thing. I need to figure out how to be like them and yet still be me.
"She probably puts a toner in her hair," I remarked to my husband (who is quite tired on my whining about my hair). ":If I could use a toner maybe my hair would be nice like that." He said nothing. He gave up a long time ago. I kept it up until they flashed the lights to return to our seats..
I am inconsolable about this hair thing. At least I HAVE hair.
I am impossible. Really. Time to get over it.
Do you think that monastery would let me in for awhile??? I need to meditate and contemplate my bad attitude.
or buy a wig.
.
I was born and raised on the east coast. Living in close proximity to Manhattan gave me incredible access to
t he arts. I discovered Leonard quite a while ago and then caught him again in the late 60's at the Newport Jazz festival. I never forgot him. I buy his music.And I no longer wonder if he's dead each time he retreats to a monastery. Don't all Jewish men do that?
I must have harbored a low opinion of my fellow Milwaukeans prior to this concert. I was concerned that not enough people would buy tickets (like this was my problem?) But the place was packed. The age range spanned older teens to frail elderly. (Am I still an east coast snob? I found myself wondering) I did a lot of crowd-watching - being especially drawn to women with grey, white or silver hair. Why? Because I hate my grey/silver/black hair and I wanted to see how other women pulled it off.
AS one might expect at a Cohen gathering, there were the requisite long haired-hippie/beatnik types. They looked old and washed out (which is how I feel even though I get a $55 haircut from a really cool stylist every 10 weeks). They wore long granny skirts and - if it hadn't been snowy outside - would probably have sported Birkenstocks. But a lot of the women were simply lovely. How do they do that? They seemed comfortable with their aged locks...dressed well...and obviously were making a statement about being comfortable with this aging thing. I need to figure out how to be like them and yet still be me.
"She probably puts a toner in her hair," I remarked to my husband (who is quite tired on my whining about my hair). ":If I could use a toner maybe my hair would be nice like that." He said nothing. He gave up a long time ago. I kept it up until they flashed the lights to return to our seats..
I am inconsolable about this hair thing. At least I HAVE hair.
I am impossible. Really. Time to get over it.
Do you think that monastery would let me in for awhile??? I need to meditate and contemplate my bad attitude.
or buy a wig.
.
Friday, February 15, 2013
I don't have to do that anymore?
I had my "Welcome to Medicare" physical last week. I think this may be an result of Obamacare (thank you) but I don't really care how it came to be. I've turned 65. I no longer have to pay thousands of dollars a year for private insurance or go to Canada for my meds. I am officially old. I have Medicare. And I have drug coverage. (Drugs aren't free but they are cheaper).
During my physical I had a nice long chat with my Internist. He's been my doctor for at least 18 years and we've never spent this much time together. It was like a date. He asked me all sorts of personal things - although he didn't ask me what my sign was. Like any new couple we argued about tests I should have but don't want and shots I should get but don't sound all that necessary to me. And then he said, "You know, you no longer need to have an annual Pap test."
What?
Why not? I asked.
"It's just no longer necessary. It's up to you. I know you see Dr. B______ but it's not longer critical."
Well yes it is. I love my gynecologist. I've had a crush on him for thirty years. He's cute, sexy , and gentle. He's a fantasy I almost get to live out once a year. And now I don't HAVE to?
Well that sucks. Maybe I won't tell Dr. B. Maybe he doesn't know. I'm going anyway. Need it or not.
During my physical I had a nice long chat with my Internist. He's been my doctor for at least 18 years and we've never spent this much time together. It was like a date. He asked me all sorts of personal things - although he didn't ask me what my sign was. Like any new couple we argued about tests I should have but don't want and shots I should get but don't sound all that necessary to me. And then he said, "You know, you no longer need to have an annual Pap test."
What?
Why not? I asked.
"It's just no longer necessary. It's up to you. I know you see Dr. B______ but it's not longer critical."
Well yes it is. I love my gynecologist. I've had a crush on him for thirty years. He's cute, sexy , and gentle. He's a fantasy I almost get to live out once a year. And now I don't HAVE to?
Well that sucks. Maybe I won't tell Dr. B. Maybe he doesn't know. I'm going anyway. Need it or not.
Sunday, February 3, 2013
The Rewards of Shopping
"Would you like to have the senior discount applied?" asked the rosy cheeked eighteen year old behind the counter.
Let's pause and roll back.
I had to make a quick trip to Walgreens. Normally I would head for Target - much more fun to shop at Target. Better prices too. But, I digress. So there I am in the check out line. There are five people behind me. I am wearing skinny jeans, boots, and a big puffy jacket. It's minus something or other outside. My makeup is on nicely. My hair is messy-wavy-curly - it is also silver, white and black depending on where you look. This hair-thing was not a voluntary decision -it was the result of a pretty icky allergy that threatened to kill me.
I quickly concluded that if my hair were brown - or even blonde - this girl would not have asked me this question.
I looked up from wrestling with my wallet and stared at her for a few seconds while I gathered my composure. "So, " I asked, "was it the hair? Did you ask me because of my hair?" She was stunned, flustered. "Um um, " she struggled, "um no Ma'am (ma'am????) I sort of ask everyone.". I looked down the line behind me and spotted a thirtyish brunette talking to her cell phone. I pointed and said, "Will you ask her? "Probably not, " the young woman replied. I smiled - not a friendly smile. More like sinister, "Then , sure I'll take the discount."
I guess all that qualifies me as a mean old lady.
Let's pause and roll back.
I had to make a quick trip to Walgreens. Normally I would head for Target - much more fun to shop at Target. Better prices too. But, I digress. So there I am in the check out line. There are five people behind me. I am wearing skinny jeans, boots, and a big puffy jacket. It's minus something or other outside. My makeup is on nicely. My hair is messy-wavy-curly - it is also silver, white and black depending on where you look. This hair-thing was not a voluntary decision -it was the result of a pretty icky allergy that threatened to kill me.
I quickly concluded that if my hair were brown - or even blonde - this girl would not have asked me this question.
I looked up from wrestling with my wallet and stared at her for a few seconds while I gathered my composure. "So, " I asked, "was it the hair? Did you ask me because of my hair?" She was stunned, flustered. "Um um, " she struggled, "um no Ma'am (ma'am????) I sort of ask everyone.". I looked down the line behind me and spotted a thirtyish brunette talking to her cell phone. I pointed and said, "Will you ask her? "Probably not, " the young woman replied. I smiled - not a friendly smile. More like sinister, "Then , sure I'll take the discount."
I guess all that qualifies me as a mean old lady.
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