Ligidation

Today is the ending of one year and the beginning of another. As a child, I never dreamed that I would live to see the year 2000, so making it to 2011 is awesome. I've been housebound for a few weeks now, a state of suspended lack of animation that is challenging to accept. My knee is on the road to recovery, the physical therapy is set to begin with the coming week, and I'm ready to do my own shopping.

Lots of little synapses firing, random thoughts pinballing around in my head. A quote from the Cornwell book catches my attention: "Somehow I always end up in charge or to blame. It never fails" (31). My life story in a sentence hidden in a book that is far too long. At page 169, I'm trying to convince myself that it's okay not to finish what I've started, but the other side is at war with my logical self, prodding me to see if it improves. Based on past experience, a book that is still floundering at page 169/496 needs to be passed on to the public library for others to enjoy.

Abject disgust at Hugh Hefner: age 84, in love with and engaged to marry a 24-year-old? Hef again confirms the old adage that there absolutely is no fool like an old fool.

Daisy has been spending an unusual amount of time curled up in my lap or on my bed. She rests her head on the healing kneecap and enjoys licking it when I uncover the surgery site. She is finally learning how to play toys with Mia and me, rather than stealing them from us and running like hell out the doggie door, where she hides her prize under the big table. Tonight will be both illegal fireworks and illegal discharging of a weapon within city limits, so the dogs will be barking and running inside and out most of the night. If I thought it would help to call the police and direct them to the scenes of the fireworks and firearms, I'd do that, but calls in the past have been set aside because there are so many other crimes being committed that they have to be prioritized. The potential harm to an innocent bystander has to rank lower on the crime scale than an actual assault and/or murder.

My ire is aroused by the advocate for illegal aliens who patiently explains to the media audience how demeaning that label is to the "undocumented workers" who have come to this country to live the American Dream. My mind wants to clarify for the advocate the difference between a worker legally residing in the US who needs to update documentation of his/her immigration status and a person who has illegally crossed the border into the US to work, to attend school, to access social services. That person, the illegal alien, is a legal resident of another country and should not be illegally double-dipping into another country's resources. We'll help the undocumented worker to update documentation, but the illegal alien needs to return home and apply for the documentation that allows him/her to return legally and, perhaps, earn the title of undocumented worker.

The rain and snow have moved on to batter other states in its journey from sea to shining sea. We didn't get a lot of snow, but it sprinkled its way all the way down the mountains for a brief appearance. The damage from the rains and the really strong winds will be repaired in the coming months, when I will engage in the annual picking of the weeds out of the garden. Hummingbirds are outside today, feasting on the purple flowers dotting the backyard plants. Life is good in my neighborhood.

What is ligidation? It's the word on a huge sign outside a roadside business surrounded by huge billboards written totally in Spanish. I assume the business owner is going out of business as I've never seen a customer on the premises. The word "liquidation" is a toughie even for English-speaking business owners who close their doors as the New Year begins. Let's hope for improvement for all of us in the coming weeks/months.

Wishing a Week Away

Since falling almost 2 weeks ago and the trip to the ER as prelude to the knee surgery, life has been vague. The unbelievable pain in my left back/hip area has, surprisingly, usurped the after-surgery pain in my right knee. I have been using the ice machine on my right knee, but have wiggled, flexed, waggled, stretched, and tried every imaginable position to accommodate a really painful left side, as well as the post-surgery right side, to no avail.

Pain pills and I do not have a copecetic relationship: they upset my stomach, cause my head to swim, and totally surpress my appetite, so I try not to take them unless I need to sleep. My theory is that I need my body's pain to guage what to do and what to avoid. If I don't feel pain, I'll overdo and cause myself pain I don't want or need. At night, however, I don't hesitate to take 2 pills as prescribed to avoid the thrashing around that comes when I'm really asleep, but trying to find a space and/or position in bed that pretends to be somewhat comfortable without inconveniencing Daisy, who has her certain spots staked out, usually in the middle of the mattress.

Last night, having stayed up until 8 pm, I gulped my pills, made my little nest, and fell promptly asleep. Two gunshots awoke me later, sounding like first, a 22 calibre, and then a 38. No screams followed; no sirens; no sounding of the alarm. I fell back asleep. Suddenly, a scream pierced the darkness, the kind of scream that sent the dogs thundering out the doggie door to the front of the property. They barked their loudest barks, followed by sirens converging nearby. This morning, the news says that a few blocks east, on the main road, a transient crossing in the middle of the block was hit by a car driven by a police officer responding to a call. Perhaps the sounds I heard connect: the gunshots a block to the west (actually a common sound from the party house) being responded to by a police officer responding to "shots fired" could have collided in the middle of a darkened street.

I was asleep, so have no idea if there is a cause/effect relationship or just sounds in the night.

My 'fridge is still bulging with food from my dotter's time here, providing care to her ailing, elderly mudder. It is such a treat to have food appear when it's time for food, without having to engage in the planning, purchasing, or preparation phases of the process. She left me with veggies and fruit, but I'm disappointed that the apples appear to be off-season imports: small, rock hard, and tasteless. My favorites, Rome Beauty, are no longer an option, and the slim winter pickings are best flavored with seasonings and cooked until tender. If I'm going to go to all that work, however, I'd just as soon include a pie crust and a scoop of Kool Whip!!

I've either watched or deleted most of the holiday movies I dvr'd during the lead-up to the surgery. I'm reading my doorstop book, the latest Cornwell, but her writing is not as engaging, well-paced, and/or interesting as it was back in the day. Now, when I read a Cornwell, I think "belaboring the point, again," rather than "I can't wait to make time to read this book!"

(Birdwalk: Making a book longer does not make it better, and far too long is a handy tool for disguising mediocre writing: the reader turns pages without reading them, rather than wading through all 496 pages by what is considered in the media as one of our top writers. Readers may not know good writing, but they recognize when the plot bogs down, when the characters spend far too much time either in conversation with other characters or internal monolog, and/or when the conflict seems contrived. James Patterson is another victim of his own media popularity, and his writing is suffering from his goal to churn out as many commercial products as he can, rather than publishing novels a reader can anticipate and savor. When he shared the computer keys with Andrew Gross, Patterson's writing was at its best; since then, however, the quality of both the story and the writing has declined.)

Today, I'm going to update my checkbook, file receipts and paid bills, decide which of the many half-finished craft projects are still viable, take several catnaps, savor a shower and clean clothes, then decide if I'm up to scoopin' poop, which has been piling up for 2 full weeks. When the dogs use the dog run, I can't see the fruits of their labors, but the weather has encouraged them to make their deposits in the people yard, creating an environmental hazard. I can walk on flat surfaces, but I'm not sure if I can bend enough to get the poop out of the landscaping rocks and into a disposal bag. If I can do it, I'm going to do it, but if it's still not an option, I'll wait another few days. We're supposed to have another round of rain later today, so if I don't get the poop picked up today, it'll have to wait until the weekend.

Believe me, I've learned the hard way that if I don't pick up the poop, there are no yard fairies who come in and do it for me!

Doc Update

What's another potential surgery to fix the mess left by the last surgeon? The untreated ACL injury has scarred over, but that does not mean it's fixed by any means. I head into PT for at least 2 months to see if I can rebuild the atrophy in my right leg from limping around for a year. If the muscles can respond and strengthen, I may be able to avoid an ACL surgery, but the damage has been done, so I have to tuck that prospect into the back of my mind, along with the hip replacement and, perhaps, a surgery to deal with the lumbar disc that is ... gone is perhaps the best word to describe the situation.

The body is a marvelous machine that keeps running well beyond what we not only subject ourselves to, but force ourselves to do just to make it through each day. When it seemed impossible to stand on my feet and take even one step, I made it through the day, doing whatever had to be done however I could accomplish it. I've been able to keep on keeping on, but in the process, my body has paid a punishing price. There is no going back, and the road ahead is going to be tough, too, but it's time to stand up again and get moving forward.

A body in motion has a better chance of staying in motion than a body that sits down and refuses to stand. Off the couch and keep moving. The dogs have been patient, but they want to go for their daily walk!!

AAAHHH: The Joys of Pain Meds

Yessiree: I'm home, surgery #1 in the past. My knee is just fine, but I'd never know if there is pain because I have not just serious "during the surgery" pain meds, but my own little bottle of pills. Believe it or not, my back hurts a whole lot worse than the surgery site, and if it hurts through the pain meds, it needs attention!!

My dotter will call the current surgeon today to find out what he encountered with the knee yesterday, including the untreated fractures and the untreated ACL injury. The best case scenario, the one for which I am rooting, is that both of those injuries totally healed on their own and I won't need any further intervention with the right knee.

Step 2 is the follow up to the trip to the ER to see what's really going on with my hip and back pelvic area/spinal column. It's a pretty good bet that there is another surgery in my near future because the on-call at the ER thought my surgery was to replace my hip. When I told him it was to fix my right knee, he smiled and assured me that hip surgery is in my soon future. Great.


That accomplished, we can move on to the other side effects of poor medical care.

My Own Worst Enemy

I hate being down!! Yep, my right knee hurts and my left hip is killing me, but I'd rather be on my own 2 feet and doing what I want to do, when I want to do it. Unfortunately, the Prednisone, added to the big Tylenol pills I took at the ER, gave me the illusion that things were not "that" bad, so I overdid and paid the price. Sat/Sun/Mon have been spent stationary.

Not being allowed to take pain pills makes it more challenging to deal with both the swelling and the pain. Ice packs and heating pads are great at the time, but there are no lasting effects from either treatment. Away from the heating pad, my hip begins to throb; away from the ice, it begins to seize. At the same time, my feet are blocks of ice. I dream at night of floating weightless in a really warm tub of water, but there is no getting in and/or getting out of a bathtub at this time.

Yes, I am complaining, but also praying that I have the knee surgery, no hitches, and can at least get past one of the current issues. I've read about hip replacement, which is basically the ball socket, and while I believe that will help with my left side issues, it will not address the area in the pelvis located right at the spinal column. That's where the pain is radiating from "stirring up the arthritis," and I didn't see a quick fix for that particular situation.

The final straw is the rain. My dogs don't like the rain; however, Mia will go outside to potty, while Daisy will run from one room in the house to another and back again, finding a hidden spot to dump her loads, rather than go outside. Late last evening, I donned my rain gear and walked with them into the yard to do their business. Both dogs reluctantly trotted alongside me, then sat next to me as the rain dampened all 3 of us. When I realized they were not going to relieve themselves, I brought them back inside as I was now cold and wet.

Dotter and I put them in the garage for the night, with lots of thick towels on the floor, as well as their favorite floor pillows and Daisy's afghan. I'm not sure how happy that made either dog, but I enjoyed waking up and not wading through a pool of pee dotted with brown accents in the middle of the living room floor!!

The good news is that dotter baked the cookies and is a genius at making festive trays of Christmas cheer. We had a long list of people for whom the cookies were an annual treat, but plans have changed for some, so we may end up not just with a bulging box of See's candy, but some really large tins filled with cookies. We do have some company coming, so we'll hope that they are cookie eaters. She has also been preparing delicious healthy meals and not just making me eat, but filling me up so I don't graze. Sugar may be the enemy, but it makes life seems better for the time it takes to consume a Christmas cookie!

That's it until after the surgery. I believe these past 5 days would have been a whole lot better had I not fallen and hurt myself, but maybe I needed to slow down and get lots of rest before the knee surgery, which I would not have done had I still been standing on my own 2 feet. In many instances, I am my own worst enemy and keep going until I literally cannot take another step, so perhaps I can work on slowing down before the damage is done, rather than after it's too late.

It's a good theory, but ... we'll see how it works for me.

Medical Update

I called my ortho team again today and talked to a person, who told me that the nurse with whom I was leaving a message is no longer with them, which explains why she did not return my 2 calls yesterday. Funny that she's still listed as the doc's contact and has an active voice mail.

The RN said he'd check into the situation with the ER x-rays, and when he called me back, he affirmed that they have the x-rays, as well as the ER doc's report. He said that we'll discuss the issues with the hip after the first of the year as it seems that a hip replacement is in my (very near) future. I asked again if I'm cleared for the knee surgery, and he confirmed that I am to show up at 11:30 AM Wed at the hospital for the surgery.

A couple of hours later, the receptionist called me to schedule an appointment this coming Tuesday for my hip surgery!! I asked her if she was sure she had called the correct patient as I'm scheduled for a knee surgery Wed -- and have not had an appointment with the doc re: hip surgery. She stammered a bit, apologized, and said she would call back to clarify after speaking with the office staff.

Yes, I'm having knee surgery Wed as of the close of business today. Who knows what will occur next M/T, but my plan is to have the knee fixed Wed, come hell or high water. What happens after that will happen.

Diagnosis: Stirred Up Arthritis

As I sat inside the shower stall, the glass doors resting across my back, I wondered how the hell I got there. The last I knew, I had changed into jammies, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and watered the horses before going to bed. I stood up, turned to flush the toilet, and found myself sitting in the shower stall. I'm not sure if I tried to pivot on the damaged right knee or if the problematic left hip locked up again, but the end result was a trip to the ER.

Five days before the surgery to repair the damaged right knee is not the most propitious time to break one's hip, if there is a good time for that injury. Although I was able to extricate myself from first, the shower doors, and then from the shower stall, I knew that I had hurt myself, so climbed into bed with an ice pack. The pain was excruciating as I tried to get out of bed at 2:00 am after the fall, and that was my first realization that I may be in trouble. It finally dawned on me that I could have broken my hip , and then came the internal dialog whether to go to the ER or tough it out, drive myself, because if I have broken my hip, I'm in deep doo-doo, or call "someone" and involve them in the decision-making. The increasing pain and lack of mobility made the decision for me, and I called a friend who tells me regularly to "call anytime for anything."

We drove all the way to Indio to the ER because that's where I just completed the pre-op process for the surgery. I explained all that, described the fall, and then waited for x-rays. Thankfully, the x-rays did not show any fractures, but there is extensive arthritis and deterioration of my left hip that led the ER doctor to assume the surgery Wednesday is for a hip replacement. He directed me to contact my ortho doc and encourage him to access the x-rays, but repeated calls to his office staff have not been returned.

The ER doc gave me a heavy-duty Tylenol, as well as a mega Prednisone, before I left the ER, but told me no 'scrip because I'm having surgery Wednesday. Heating pad, ice packs, and staying on the couch are the best treatment options at this time. Dotter changed her flight and is arriving tonight to keep me on the couch, then take me for the surgery appointment Wednesday. Unfortunately, she's also going to have to do all the errands on my to-do list that needed Sat, Sun and Mon to complete before her initial arrival Tues. I'm sure she'll be glad to be out running around in a strange location during the last frantic days before Christmas. And we still have to bake the fresh cookies for the gift plates that will be adorned with the piles of See's candy!

The best part of the experience is the doctor's diagnosis. When I expressed my thanks for not breaking my hip, I asked the doc what is causing such pain and inability to mobilize. His response: "you probably just stirred up the arthritis." When my face surely expressed my total disbelief, he assured me that there is extensive arthritis in the left hip, which probably needs to be replaced soon, and a bad fall can exacerbate the condition and be quite painful.

Right.

My mind immediately went back to a year ago, when I went from one doctor to the next, telling each one that there was "something" wrong with my right knee, but a manual exam, bone x-rays, and an ultra-sound showed nothing wrong from 3 separate medical professionals. When I finally demanded an MRI because I knew there was "something" wrong, it showed that I had fractured my knee, as well as damaged the ACL and torn the meniscus. I would like to believe the "stirred up arthritis" diagnosis, but I simply cannot find that option at mayo.com!!

The See's Season

Okay, so a diabetic isn't supposed to be addicted to See's candy, but when I was a very young child, the See's store on State Street in Santa Barbara, CA was a magical kingdom of total pleasure. All that pristine black and white, and the nice ladies in the crisply-starched white uniforms with black trim and black aprons, who treated even the youngest child as a guest, rather than a nuisance, set a high bar for Christmas shopping! I couldn't wait until we made the trip to See's to buy the special box of candy, absolutely certain the ladies in the uniforms, who made frequent trips into the back of the store, were making the candy for my mom's box as we waited. The gift for our mom was always a box of See's, even though it meant we all (3 older children at 50 cents each, but the younger 2 only had to earn a quarter each) had to work our butts off to earn our 50 cents that, totaled, added up to a 2-pound box of assorted chocolates with bon-bons.

The box was a work of art, with each piece of candy in its own little fluted cup, and each placed with precision into the bottom layer, then gently covered to protect those candies when the second layer was added. The bright red holiday wrapping paper always had a bow and a special Mrs. See sticker holding it closed. The bon-bons were the perfect touch of color that added the holiday look when the box was opened, and Mom, even though she knew what our gift would be, always acted not just surprised, but as if we had given her one of the crown jewels.

She shared with us, sparingly, as my mom loved See's candy more than any other sweet treat. We were sneaky, however, and always found her hiding place, with the bright white box reflecting off our searching flashlights. Once we brought the box out into the open, we spent far too long trying to decide which ONE piece of candy we would take without asking, even being so bold as to lift the divider and peek at the hidden chocolates in the bottom layer. Sometimes, the temptation was too much, so we carefully scooped all the filling out from the bottom of one piece, then replaced the empty chocolate shell back into the box, somehow believing that mom would never know.

The See's is, perhaps, the most important part of Christmas, so today, on my way to the dentist, I braved the crowds of snowbirds to stand in line and have a special order box prepared: 3 pounds of assorted chocolates, with bon-bons, please, and an extra 1/2 pound box of assorted chocolates because, although my mom is no longer here to enjoy her Christmas box of See's candy, my daughter and her fiance are on their way to take care of me during the surgery. My daughter loves See's candy, and her husband-to-be will have to go along to get along. The employee assured me that they have prewrapped boxes, but I again carefully instructed him that I did not want just a 3# box of assorted chocolates, but I wanted bon-bons. He affirmed that he knew what I wanted and began filling the box with candy.

It's hard to see just what they are doing behind the glass case, so I asked him, when it seemed to be taking a really long time to fill the order, if he had a system or had memorized the contents of a 3# box of assorted chocolates, with bon-bons? He told me that they just keep adding candy until the box is full, which is not the memory of my See's experience. I reminded him that this was to be a gift, and I really wanted to showcase the See's selection, to which he returned a smile and kept putting candy into the box.

Suddenly, he turned toward the register and rang up the box of candy, then grabbed some scotch tape and taped the box shut. If I began buying See's candy when it was 50 cents a pound, I have some experience with boxing See's candy, and I've NEVER seen a box taped shut! He brought the bulging box to me, along with the total purchase price, but I told him I wanted it wrapped for a gift -- and had ordered an extra 1/2 pound box of assorted chocolates that he did not have with him. He gave me the stare and said, "You want it wrapped?" I assured him that I did, indeed, want it wrapped -- and also wanted the 1/2 pound box of assorted chocolates.

There was a long line waiting to be served, and I really didn't want to be pushy, so I did take the bulging box of candy once it was wrapped and leave the store.

When I arrived home and took the candy out of the bag, I laughed: even the bright red See's holiday paper is held together with scotch tape, in place of the traditional gold Mrs. See seal. I just had to unwrap the box and see the contents, so I took a photo: . I also took a picture of the mound of See's candy piled above the top edge of the box (bottom of the photo). No wonder the top had to be taped on!

Yes, I have the See's candy, and I may well have more than the 3# that should be in the box, but this is certainly not a gift I can give to anyone, so I'm going to arrange it artfully on little dessert plates, along with some homemade cookies, and serve it with dainty cups of piping hot coffee. I'm sure this seasonal employee won't make it to the new year in this job, and I'm equally certain that someone is going to find a huge discrepancy between product used and cash in the register.

This may not be the See's Christmas memory from my youth, and it cost me considerably more than 50 cents a pound, but it's See's candy: lots and lots of See's candy bulging out of that bright white box! It doesn't get much better than that any season of the year.

Yes or No? How 'bout Other

People who do not believe that surveys skew the desired response don't get it: if you ask a question that has only 2 possible responses, you probably can design the question to get the desired answer, thus "proving" your bias. This happens all the time with true/false quizzes in education; thus, I gave a quiz to a class for which all the responses were the same. The students, many of whom work a system to score well on both T-F and multiple choice tests, were incensed. As one student so aptly stated, "If all the answers were false, it wasn't a 'true-false' quiz."

That was my point: I designed a quiz to prove a point. Students who depend on life to be fair, to follow the rules, to conform to their study habits/intellectual ability, are going to be ... disappointed. Learn the lesson and move beyond your limited parameters.

This morning, the on-line local newspaper asks another one of its survey questions: are you willing to pay higher taxes to fund education? My response: hell, no! This is not because I do not believe in education, but because I know there are other options. Raising taxes v maintaining the status quo is one option, not the only option.

People who are professional organizers teach us all a strong lesson: our treasures are someone else's trash. When an organizer comes into a home or office, s/he sees the task from an impartial point of view and makes 3 piles: keep, toss, donate. The process is less painful for the people who want to hold onto everything that defines their life, past and present, and life moves beyond the clutter. It's a win/win. Both state governments and schools need the objective professionals to examine where money is spent and how it can be spent differently. Once the decks are cleared of the clutter, the focus can become wiser allocations of resources, rather than business as usual.

The problem stems from how we allocate our resources, not the lack of them. I recently read that all state employees are keeping their provided cars, as well as their car allowance. If it's required to do the job, make a vehicle available when it's necessary to do the job; however, allowing thousands of employees to enjoy the benefits of a second car without any of the financial responsibility for it is no longer a financially sound option in the state of Cally-phone-ya. Take the cars away; don't provide the high-level cell phone and the free cell service; don't provide the laptop as a take-home option for employees; and cut the number and costs of the free "business" lunches.

Next to go is the office/campus copy machine. If all the crap we determine necessary to get the job done is composed and saved onto a computer, we could use the technology to move beyond the hundreds of thousands of dollars spent annually on paper/copy machine maintainance and repair. At the office, send an electronic memo, rather than a paper copy. Project the image onto a screen at the front of the room during the lecture and send a copy to the kid's laptop, cell phone, or other digital device. Even though the student probably will not take notes during the lecture and the office recipient will delete the memo, there is the "paperless" trail to assure that it was sent to the recipients's electronic device. The side benefit from going green is that employees and students may learn how to do more with the devices than txt, shop on-line, and play games during business hours!!

In education, draw back on the endless employee in-services and conferences that are at best self-serving. Once a person reaches the 10-year mark in a career, it becomes redundant to sit through a in-service designed for the new kids on the campus. When entire days are set aside to exchange pleasantries as a staff, it may look good in an accreditation report, but it's a waste of time, talent, and financial resources. Small groups for shorter times can probably be at least as effective as large groups for longer periods of time, and the school doesn't have to shut down to accomplish the in-service goals.

Finally, cut everyone's pay by a dime a day: everyone's pay, top down, bottom up in all levels of state government and education. If it's such a big deal as a pay raise that civil service employees and educators are willing to go on strike to get it, it must be a big enough deal to make a huge difference in the state's budget. Consider the dime a day the cost of employees who do personal business during the work day, who stretch the coffee breaks and lunch hours because "they don't pay me enough" in the first place. Stealing time is still stealing, so a dime a day could even out the theft of time. Put the money back into the state's budget and save a tax increase.

Demand that both government and education work within the same parameters of resources/expenses that we, the people, have to work within. We don't get a free car, free cell phones and service, free lunches, and we have to pay for the copywork when we need to make copies, so we have to cut expenses to conform to our income. The state, as well as the educational system, can at least pretend to do the same, rather than ask the people to plant yet another money tree in the backyard to pay for the decisions of the policymakers to spend, spend, spend.

Just Thinkin'

Why is it rewarding "millionaires and billionaires" when the proposed tax reform applies to anyone who earns an income in excess of $250,000? A quarter of a million is nowhere near to either a million or a billion!

To Err is Yet Another Sign of a Poor Education

I often lament the loss of language skills from one generation to the next, but seldom as often as I do while reading published words in either pulp fiction or the newspaper. Yesterday, however, I had a great belly laugh at the expense of an on-camera news reporter who is often sent to report from the scene of both the ridiculous and the sublime in the desert valley. If it's raining and the water sheens the surface of a side street, poor Phillipe is on the scene building face time while trying to hyperbole his way through a non-event.

The recent report involved a burglary suspect, always correctly referred to a robbery suspect by Phillipe, who ran from the officers on scene. As Phillipe, the on-camera reporter, described the event, "the officer gave chase after the robbery suspect while brandishing a knife."

Props for the use of "brandishing," perhaps one of those pesky weekly vocabulary words we still give to the AP students and which Phillipe brings to his news reporting with alacrity and constancy. However, Phillipe may have been absent during the lesson on misplaced modifiers; hence, his commentary has the officer brandishing a knife while chasing the suspect, rather than the suspect brandishing the knife while trying to evade the officer. Note that Phillipe always uses the word "suspect," never the word "criminal," as others are wont to do.

We can probably make yet another bashing argument for the failure of the educational system to teach misplaced modifiers based on this one example of a TV news reporters' gaffe, but it's just one of those things that happen when we speak the way we should never write.

AARRGGHH: Now I KNOW Why I'd Rather be at Work!

Don't ya love it when a good idea turns on you and kicks your ass? Yesterday, after spending the whole day out and about, I decided that, since Friday is a work day for the rest of the world, I'd start the house cleaning required by the coming of the Christmas guests. I came up with a systematic plan that should get all the jobs I never do done, so all that's left is the vacuum/dust/bathroom tune-up prior to the arrival of the first stay-over.

I began at 7:00 am, planned to finish by noon -- at the latest -- and almost collapsed from fatigue at 3 pm when I decided that enough is enough. Most of the kitchen is cleaner than it was, as well as both bathrooms. Sorry to say that leaves the 4 largest rooms untouched, a daunting thought at best.

Perhaps the good news is that I keep the guest room clean all the time, and my bedroom just needs some of the knick-knacks and "tops of" cleaned, which won't take a lot of time. I keep up with the living room mostly, but the office? Well, that's going to take a full day all by its lonesome.

I'll keep plugging away, but this is totally tough on both my knee and my left side, which is degenerating from being the bearer of all my weight since the knee accident. My left hip locks up and my left leg refuses to take a step, which I am hoping will resolve without surgery after the knee is fixed and I complete physical therapy.

I paid the girl next door to walk the dogs around the block today, and may have to do that a few more times until I finish the cleaning. Yeah, I'd rather be at work as it's a whole lot less work than being the housewife.

Brit Ed 101

Here's a thought: take the reported $20-$40 million cost for the upcoming nuptials and donate the money to the universities to pay tuition expenses, rather than raising the rate for the individual student.

I'm sure the couple would enjoy a small, family-oriented wedding and could probably keep the cost about $100k and still have a nice event.

And Charles and Camilla could continue to motor about town without the danger of being attacked by protestors.

Making it Black and White

Bad news: according to this morning's media report, the educational system continues not to serve racial minorities, who are disenfranchised (don't you just love a big word?), their lives ruined by the failure of the educational system to meet their unique, special, individualized perceived needs.

This morning, bemoaning again the failure of the educational system to serve minorities, a teen-aged minority student was interviewed on a high school campus. When asked what he sees as the biggest problem with education, he eloquently responded that "... they like don't give you nuddin' to do, like games and other stuff that ain't borin'. Alls they wanna do is teach! Man, I'm not down with all that stuff. School's too hard and it just ain't worth it."

Yeah, tell it like it is, kid. All wees wanna do is teach, teach, teach; alls you wanna do is ... anything but learn, learn, learn. Paraphrasing an old saw that still makes the rounds: those who will, do; those who will not do, drop out.

Boo-hoo. That pesky, antiquated educational system is stuck on stupid skills, such as reading (say what?), writing (i txt 40 wpm), speaking (I'm like totally down wid all dat!), and math (like, duh: the cash register makes the change for you!!). R U feelin' me? Get real: today's educational goals are to meet student needs, not to train students to meet society's needs!! Employers will just have to adjust their expectations if they want to hire the employees of the future.

The schools, simply stated, are not meeting the needs of today's diverse student population, so WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO ABOUT IT??

You disappointed educational disenfranchees can stay home, watch videos, play video games, text until your thumbs drop off, hang out with your boyz, and really live your lives the way you want to live them. Forget what all those old fogies at the school say about needing to know the basics! You're 16 and you know wazzup!

Please: you're clogging the drain. Move out and make room for the students of all shapes, sizes, colors, economic standing, family background, difficult circumstances, and/or any other alleged failure to perform cop-out who value education and participate in the process. Let me spend me time, my talent, and my financial resources on the students who suit up, show up, and work for an education and a future.

The Dandy Dallas Don

As a young college student, I worked a telephone switchboard, a busy activity that kept me out of mischief, but also provided cash toward my college financial obligations. During the summer, the Dallas Cowboys football trained on campus, so one summer, I spent some time ogling the athletes from the switchboard room located in their dorm.

The favorite was, of course, Don Meredith, a totally hot Texas cutie with a cute southern drawl that thickened as he oozed charm. The coach kept a tight rein on his boys and taught them values, along with developing their athletic skills. They gave thanks for the food on their tables, they spent time off the field as a team, and they darned well better never be late for curfew as there were consequences back in the day that involved sincere penance, rather than writing a check.

The team spent many evenings in the dorm lounge, an open area with chairs, couches, and a TV, which may not seem like a big deal, but back in the 1960s, dorms were segregated and electronics scarce. The guys always had a football with them and tossed it back and forth, shared ribald jokes, dissed one another, laughed a lot, and left for their rooms as the curfew approached.

It was fun to watch practice and see how hard professional athletes worked on their game. It was equally fun to be the fly in the switchboard room and share how hard they played at the end of the day. Dandy Don's laugh was one of the loudest, but certainly not the only one to be on the receiving end of team jokes!

It was a little bit of time in my life a long time ago, but when I heard that Don Meredith died this morning, I saw him as clearly in my mind's eye as I did all those many years ago. Hope you took a ball with you, q'back!

Flit Tur

I remember fondly my visit to Memphis, TN. As I was leaving my hotel on the music circle, I pulled into a gas station to fill 'er up before hitting the road for my next destination. After pumping the gas and paying, I started to get into my car. Behind me, a voice called out, "Flit-tur!" I have absolutely no ear for languages, including the foreign tongue spoken in the deep South, so not recognizing that the person could be talking to me, I climbed into the driver's seat, buckled my seatbelt, and spasmed straight into the roof of the car when someone knocked on my window.

The old man had been sitting outside the station office, but was now tapping on my window. I lowered it a bit and asked if he was talking to me.

"Yep," he repeated, "flit-tur."

My, that was helpful, but I still didn't have a translation readily available, so asked him with a "beg your pardon" to please repeat what he had said. No, the third time was not the charm, so I motioned that I was going to open the door and get out of my vehicle, which turned out to be the right thing to do as he smiled and kicked my "flit-tur." He fixed me right up and I was on my way in no time, but the memory lingers.

Since last Wednesday, I've had a flit tur on the RAV, for which I have now stopped at a tire shop 4 days in a row to have fixed. Believe it or not, there is "nothing" wrong with the tire, so it cannot be fixed. Kinda reminds me of a favorite song from back in the day: my roof don't leak when it don't rain, and a tire cannot be flat if there ain't no hole in it.

Yeah, I did.

I actually asked how it could go flat 4 days in a row and have nothing wrong. I asked if it could be alignment, balance, hitting a curb, the fill stem, or a faulty dashboard light, whatever came to mind. For my effort to win at guess what's causing the tire to go flat, I got the patient manspeak smiley face that totally sold the, "No, dear. There's nothing wrong with the tire." Now we ALL know that there is SOMETHING wrong with the tire or it would not go flat, but that isn't a conversation I want to have with a man who believes his inate charm and addressing me as "dear" can convince me to the contrary.

Tomorrow, I drive up the hill and spend a full 12 hours away from home, so I'll toss the manual air pump into the cargo deck, along with all the teaching stuff I have to schlep to work and back. Tuesday I have the morning to try yet again to figure out why the tire is losing air and have the problem fixed.

Ho-Ho-Ho: 'tis the season to be mean!

The holiday season is the most dysfunctional time of the year. People's worst instincts seem to surface in the guise of good cheer, when a social gathering fueled with a little holiday cheer loosens tongues and the truth comes hanging out.

The breakfast group has fallen to the wayside, based on the decision-making of one of the group who decided that it is too expensive to continue to meet once a week, the same person who always orders the same breakfast at a cost of $6.23 per week and generously adds a 50-cent tip. Then, another member added that it is inconvenient for her to meet for breakfast every Friday because she has other obligations (we meet at 6:00 am), so we accommodated her by setting up a brunch here and there. Several times the others of us, perhaps those who truly formed friendships within the group, continued to meet outside the group structure.

The group dynamics include the one person who does the weekly fashion critique and the other one who always has a personal zinger directed my way. The fashion critique often centers on my appearance, with the consensus being that I could do so much more to enhance my looks. I've responded truthfully that if looks are the sole criteria for my life, I fall woefully short, and accept that being critiqued is part of the socializing, even though it's pretty much a "what not to wear and how not to look" reality show directed at me. I understand that I could (perhaps) attract a man if I underwent a complete renovation, but I'm not so sure that my goal at this point in my life is to attract a man. If it were, I'd want a man who accepts me as I am, not for my potential to change into a person with whom he could be seen in public without cringeing.

The zingers are the ones that rattle my cage as they are pointed and barbed. My life was filled with those kinds of passive-aggressive attacks, so I'm not too inclined to take kindly to someone who feels a need to put me in my place verbally. This week, I bought each person a sample of Roche truffles as a welcome to the holiday season. We usually don't exchange gifts, but I had spent the early morning writing checks to the charities I support each year and decided to do something nice for the people in my life, too. We met for lunch, which was a nice change, and as the group members were all talking about weight gain, I laughed and said, "Perhaps this is a good time for me to give each of you a little something to kick off the holiday season," and gave them the box of a dozen assorted chocolates.

I said how much I enjoy the Roche, especially the white coconut flavor, but I don't buy them because I'll eat them. I added that I like to have something on hand so if someone drops by, I can offer them a treat, so if my gift recipients want to regift or share the chocolates, go for it.

Wait for it. Here it comes.

"Well, YOU certainly do NOT have to TELL ME what to do with the box of chocolates. I'll make MY OWN decision, not YOU."

The bad news: she felt compelled to make any comment at all, other than "thank you." The good news: it was at the end of the meal, so it was easy to pick up my belongings and excuse myself.

A Traffic Nightmare

UPDATING: I-10 east-bound is again a parking lot; this time an SUV loaded with 2 adults and 6 children rolled across all lanes at an off-ramp. One person thrown from the vehicle; the rest had to be cut out.
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Traveling through the CV on I-10, few drivers are aware that there are limited opportunities to exit the I-10 to avoid highway congestion. In spots, there is a frontage road, but it's not connected the length of the freeway, especially where there are gaps between towns. This week, the interstate's worst nightmare occurred when there was a fatal accident on one of the east-bound off-ramps, another fatal accident on the westbound and a third fatal accident on the east bound, all occurring on the same day within a 12-hour time span.

The first fatality occurred coming into PS on the Highway 111 option, when a work truck towing a flatbed trailor lost the trailer, which hurtled across the lanes and into an oncoming passenger vehicle, killing the driver instantly. The accident required both sides of the roadway to be closed, which backed traffic onto the east-bound I-10 lanes. While that accident was being investigated and cleaned up, out on I-10, a big rig trucker evidently fell asleep at the wheel and flipped, ejecting the driver and spilling his load of fertilizer across all west-bound lanes. Again, investigation of the fatality, as well as the hazmat clean-up, and now both east and west bound lanes were impacted. However, because this second accident involved a hazmat clean-up, traffic was parked on the I-10, with traffic backed up for approximately 12 miles.

Just as the first accident scene cleared and the second accident scene was beginning to clear (it takes hazmat a REALLY long time to respond and then clean up a spill), a third accident occurred when a stolen catering van tried to evade a person in a POV following it east-bound from the crime scene. The driver of the stolen van panicked, sped up in all the traffic congestion, and with nowhere to go to evade the pursuer, hit 2 cars caught in the jam, sent one into the guard rail and then over the embankment, killing the driver in the process. The driver of the stolen van fled the scene, which added another dimension to the event: chasing the suspect.

What was a bad situation worsened exponentially and became what the national media is calling a "perfect storm!"

There was no "take the next off ramp" because there are so few alternatives, especially alternatives that go anywhere. Adding to the crisis was the loss of both radio and cell phone signals, although "no one" knows why that situation developed. People who were stuck had no idea why or for how long, so other issues became critical: fuel, water, food, and toilet needs. People heading to the outlet mall for holiday shopping probably did not plan on being stopped on a freeway for 12 hours!!

This area sits on a massive earthquake fault that is quite active: it is a rare day that the area does not have a quake. Thankfully, most of the shakers are 4.0 or lower on the Richter Scale, but we are promised that a big one is headed our way. If/when that happens, there is no escape route, which means there also are limited alternatives for the responders. First and foremost, there has to be solid 24/7 communication, not intermittent areas that black-out all forms of contact with the outside world. Secondly, the infrastructure must address the worst-case scenario and provide alternate routes in case of disaster. Recalling 9-11, if the bridges and tunnels had been compromised, terrorists would have controlled New York and the high density population trapped therein. Finally, emergency responders have to be able to access the accident scene not just to provide emergency care, but also to allow the clean-up crew access to the area so the accident can be removed, as well as any haz mat associated with it. The roadblocks in these 3 accidents effectively shut down any access to the scenes -- except from the other side of the freeway, and that option was negated when crashes occurred on both sides of the center divider.

The media all the way to the nation's capitol are calling this "perfect storm" yet another example of what can go wrong, and sooner or later seems to do so. With the attention drawn to the problem, it's a fair question to ask whether solutions are going to be found, or simply lamented.

Wise Words Well-Heeded

In the wee hours of the morning, I tried falling asleep to the drone of talk TV, but found that didn't work any better than any of the other bore myself to sleep strategies that seldom work. However, my ears tuned in to a comment made by one of the talking heads:

Let's just let this play out. It will reveal itself over time. No one has to jump on this and do anything because it will all come out over time.

Can you hear me now?

What a tremendously powerful strategy for keeping one's nose out of personal business that does not need a public airing, as well as the endless stream of mindless air-speak that clogs up the media. All those meaningless words, speculation, possible scenarios, and potentially damaging issues that the talking heads create on an hourly basis can simply poof! be gone.

Let it be what it is, wait for it, and then discuss the issue in real time with real information and, potentially, find real solutions for real problems.

Living in a Blue Man Group Home

An eerie glow emanates from every room in my home since I recently purchased a dozen replacement bulbs for the night lights that guide me from room to room during the night. My daily goal is to avoid the step, slip, fall sequence that plagues me everywhere I go; hence, the night lights. The use life of a 4 watt bulb is brief, so when one failed recently, and knowing that others were not far behind, I purchased a dozen replacement bulbs of the "green" variety, heedless of the fact that these bulbs glow blue. Now, my home is bathed in blue light that creates an uncomfortable lack of definite light, but seems of suspicious origin when I wake in the middle of the night and need to navigate my living spaces. I am determined not to throw them out and purchase environmentally unfriendly bulbs that actually light up my life, but I will find and purchase the old-fashioned brilliant bulbs posthaste to have on hand for the next burned-out bulb.

Daisy is cold, and rightly so as the temps hover in the 50s during the day and the 30s at night, so she cuddles as close as she can get to me and shivers. We settle, she shivers, I react, she settles, I settle, she shivers, I react: the nights are becoming endless! Thus, I've decided to fashion a dog sweater for her that will be her very own carry-along blankie. To create this garment, I must measure Daisy so the sweater will fit her and not become a total waste of my time and (limited) talent. Daisy, however, reacts as if I am hog-tying her as the potential main meal at a barbeque and runs like hell out the doggie door. She won't return if she sees anything suspicious in my general vicinity, such as a tape measure or the work in progress. My intent is honorable, but Daisy is not the most trusting canine in my neighborhood.

Mia, meanwhile, has taken to picking up her sleeping pillow, which is next to my bed, and forcefully relocating it to the protected corner between the closet door and the amoire. This process requires far too much unknown noise in the dark time, especially with the banging against the closet door! Last night, the pillow seemed not to cooperate with her determination to position it just right, so the banging, tugging, and growling at the inanimate object consumed an hour that I could have spent sleeping.

Once both canines were finally set for the night, I was wracked with intense charlie horses that tightened my legs to the point of intense pain. It's hard to do anything about them because the primary focus is on the "dear God, let this pain go away" phase of the clenching. I know that heat helps, but one must straighten one's leg to be able to move, much less leave the bed for a heating pad and/or hot, wet washcloth. This is a new aspect of the general knee issue, one that is most unwelcome.

Alien blue glow identified, canines semi-settled, charlie horses minimized, and ah, finally drifting off to sleep when the phone starts ringing!! Dammit all to hell, but when the phone shrills at 2:13 am, it's never good news. I checked the called ID and found a "private number," so did not answer. The caller declined to leave a message, so it was back to the beginning of the let's all go to sleep process once again. I know I dozed off, but finally gave up the struggle at 4:15 this morning and headed for my day, the dogs now totally asleep and settled in at least until sunrise.

Sleep in Heavenly Peace

It’s tricky to find just the right timing for the best night of the year. It cannot be too warm, but it also must not be too cold, or the night loses its uniqueness. I picked yesterday, and the night turned out perfectly.

My preparation began with changing the bed linens, as well as turning the mattress. I took the sheets from the dryer while they were still warm and remade the bed, adding the totally fluffy and cozy blanket for the first time this year. On top, the quilted bedspread made its appearance, along with the heavy crocheted afghan, the one with the deep burgundy roses, that I made a dozen years ago. All of the extra bed pillows got not just a fluffing, but a shaking outside, as well as new cases.

During the day, a light sprinkling rain fell, so soft and gentle that I hardly felt it as I walked the dogs. For a solid two hours, a radiant double rainbow arched across my end of the valley, spectacular in its brilliance and endurance. It connected the snow falling on one mountain with the rest of the range traveling eastward. Where the ends touched the ground, it truly appeared golden.

In the past, I began my evening with a long soak in a hot bathtub, but this past year, removing myself from a bathtub is analogous to raising the Titanic from the ocean depths, so I took a hot shower instead. After a good dry-off, I reached for the flannel jammies, soft from all the washings last winter. As I pulled them on, I knew that this was just the beginning of wearing the winter pj's.

I stayed up until 10:00 pm, then locked up the house, gave the dogs a hug, and headed toward nirvana. Removing the bed pillows and pulling down the quilted spread, I became anxious to see if the first feel of the winter bedding would be as glorious as I remembered. My feet reacted to the initial coolness of the sheets, but as I stretched myself full length under the covers and pulled them up to my chin, my body sighed in relief. Snuggling, I felt myself relaxing for the first time in months as the blankets cocooned me and began warming me to sleep.

The best night of the year is the night it’s actually cold enough to enjoy a warm, snuggly bed, complete with the weight of bedding that feels not just comforting, but allows me to relax completely, fall sleep, and sleep in heavenly peace.

Depends

Elderly maiden Aunt Mathilde accepted our invitation to Thanksgiving dinner and agreed, for one of the few times in her life, to fly. We found her a non-stop flight from northern to southern California. We told her about the travel regulations, including small containers in plastic bags and extra fees to bring even the smallest suitcase with her. Auntie M assured us that she would be "just fine," as long as she remembered her family secret.

Auntie M took a taxi to the airport, presented her ticket, sent her small overnight suitcase on its way through the baggage maze, and joined the queue of other passengers for the pre-boarding screening process. We had explained to Auntie M that she would have to remove her coat and her shoes, place them into a bin, and keep her ticket in her hand as she walked through the security gate, so she understood that process and accepted that it is what's necessary to keep passengers safe, once in the sky.

Auntie M is not the kind of woman who would allow a stranger either to see what's beneath her closed coat or to touch her body without her expressed permission, and then only in what she calls her "public areas": a shoulder to cry on, an escort's elbow, or a lover's embrace. She also had her "family secret," the bulky, extra-absorbent adult diapers that allowed her the dignity to handle her incontinance in private. No one needed to know that she had embarrassing Sudden Leak Syndrome, which could occur more frequently when she traveled.

The TSA screener directed Auntie M to the left and told her to stand in front of a flat panel as he explained that she would have a full body x-ray. Auntie M, aghast at the idea of showing her entire body to a stranger, and, perhaps, revealing her family secret, tried to explain her predicament by responding, "Depends."

"Depends on what?" he responded. "Do you have something to hide?"

"No," she responded, "it's Depends."

"Are you refusing to be x-rayed?" he asked, motioning for another attendant to join him at the flat screen.

"No, I'm not," she replied, "but it's Depends."

The second TSA worker came closer, listened to the conversation, then directed Auntie M to follow her to a screened area for a full-body pat-down. When the woman touched Auntie M in a personal way, Auntie M became very upset and, turning her eyes toward her private area, pleaded with the woman. "Depends," she said, "Depends!"

The screener ignored Auntie M and became more aggressive in the search for ... contraband? explosives? drugs? Auntie M didn't know why she was being physically assaulted, just that she was. Suddenly, the woman's hands stilled as they felt the bulky undergarment that is Auntie's family secret.

"Supervisor!" the TSA employee, shouted, "we need assistance in the screening area."
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Okay, so this is fiction, but it could be happening throughout the USA during the heightened travel season. Families with passels of kids excited and anxious about flying, may not be able to hold it together when it comes to full-body scans and full-body pat-downs, no matter how tactfully either may be performed. It will be congested airports, noisy crowds, and long, stressful lines of people who have to decide whether to allow a stranger to see their naked body image or touch them in private places. In those lines will be the elderly, the disabled, the mentally unstable, and stressed-out, overwrought travelers for whom this may be the final straw in an already difficult day.

In trying to prevent an explosive situation in the air, the airport personnel may be creating an even more explosive situation in the terminals across America.

Is the TSA going to detain every person who objects to the violation of their personal space, or is it going to be a selective process? Granny gets groped, while a young woman covered head-to-toe in her native garb is passed through, rather than risk violating her religious beliefs? Is the TSA going to require individuals wearing a robe and/or head covering to remove it -- or pass them through, rather than risk offending someone who may object to removing a voluminous head covering by racially profiling them? Is any person wearing a bulky adult diaper going to be publicly humiliated because one potential suicide bomber used that option to try to explode a plane in the air? Auntie M is equally offended at the assault on her personal freedom and dignity, but she will be detained, while a person who claims religious privilege or racial profiling will be passed through.

We don't think things through and work in a proactive way to prevent terrorists from commiting their crimes, but we sure have the knee-jerk reactionary tactics down pat!

Pun intended.

DWTS x 5

UPDATE: Bristol is in the finals -- and totally unrecognized by the other contestants, as well as the judges, the hosts, and the crowd. There was dead silence because the favorite went home tonight and the only non-dancer left standing stays for the finals. It irritates me that such disrespect has been shown to Bristol, perhaps for political reasons, but I hope that is not the case. It was stunning to hear accusations that The Tea Party/Republicans kept her on the show long past when she should have gone home, and disgusting to hear the boos attributed to her mother and father, who came to the show to cheer their daughter in her performances.

Perhaps many others felt as I did, watching the show last night, that this young woman put more of herself into this contest than some of the other contestants. Her gracious attitude, her fierce determination, her acceptance of herself as the underdog are qualities to be admired, not to be criticised. Bristol is NOT on the show because of her mother; perhaps, she is on the show in spite of her mother!!

And, she's going to the finals. Good for you, Bristol!
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I've watched this season of Dancing With the Stars, but I have not voted until tonight. After watching Bristol and Mark, I decided to give them all 5 of my votes because they embody what the program is about: a person who is NOT a dancer becoming one, one week at a time.

Bristol has not been talented or graceful or even a good dancer, but she has worked hard to learn the dances, perform the dances, accept the judge's criticisms, and keep coming back each week. Others in the semi-finals came into the competition at a much higher level than the former 17-year-old "high school slut" who became pregnant and then had to be pregnant on national TV. She gave birth to her son, has raised her son, gave her son's father a second chance, which he blew wide open, and then stood on her own two feet to continue with whatever comes next.

What came next was an invitation to be part of this season's DWTS, a tough gig for anyone, but especially tough for a young girl with limited exposure to the hardened public figures who know how to handle the papps, as well as the glare of the 24/7 media spotlight. Through it all, she's been gracious, hardworking, and ... herself.

Congrats, Bristol, for keeping true to yourself. I'm proud of you for using what happened to you as a reason to continue to be who you are in the process of becoming who you will be.

Just Being Honest

This has been a bad week. As a result, I'm not sleeping well, over-eating, dealing with heart palpitations, and cranky as hell.

On the positive side, I'm staying home, all by my lonesome, so no one has to deal with me! The dogs don't care how I feel: they just want to go for their walk, which we do almost every day. Daisy has been cuddling up on my lap, while Mia has been snoring on the livingroom floor. Periodically, I give them treats, so we're just one big semi-happy family.

It's okay with me if tomorrow's a better day!

The Blame Game

Mr. "Dubya" Bush is quoted as saying he "probably could have done things better," but I disagree with that phrasing, as well as that perspective. We may do things differently, but we have no way of knowing whether the outcome will be better/ worse/ the same until after the fact. Hence, perhaps President Bush could have done things differently, but the results could have been far worse as a result.

Monday night quarterbacks always believe they could have won the Sunday afternoon football game, but they need to suit up and be on the field Sunday in order to have the opportunity to be in the game. Could they have done a better job than the team on the field? Maybe/maybe not: they could have played the game differently, but that would have allowed the other team to respond differently, and we would have had a different ball game -- but not necessarily different outcomes.

I also don't know why another Texan, of Dallas Cowboy owner's fame, fired his coach. The coach wasn't on the field throwing passes, blocking linemen, driving for a first down, kicking field goals, so why fire him? There are a dozen different coaches on a team, each coach empowered to do the best job s/he can do with the athletes on the roster. There are no guarantees that the team will perform to the expectations of the coaches, the media, or the owner! Yeah, yeah, yeah: it's the old the pitcher wins the baseball game, but I don't agree with that, either!! The team does the job, or it doesn't do the job, on the field, but the coach is confined to the sidelines. Throwing lots of money at a team doesn't buy a winning season: it simply assures that the owner is going to think that how much s/he pays the athletes assures success on the field.

In education, when students fail a class or don't pass the mandated exit exam, it's perceived to be the teacher's fault. I dare anyone who spends one full year in a room filled with 40 non-motivated high school sophomores 5 times a week for a 55-minute period of time to believe that it is the teacher's fault. It's never just one person who makes or breaks a deal, especially if the other side of the deal has absolutely no buy-in to the process or the outcome. The schools provide the information, but the student has to be an active part of the learning process. Sending texts, listening to I-Pods, updating one's Facebook page, tuning out what's around them because it's "boring" are all student strategies to opt out of whatever is going on around them that the do not want to do, so they will not do. Poor kids: no one is teaching them!

Presidents, athletes, teachers, parents do the best job they can do with the information provided to them at a time when they have to make tough decisions that can go either way. Sometimes, they score a touchdown and sometimes they fumble, while other times, the opposing team takes a goal-line stance and holds the line. It's a process, not an event, so we need to accept that sometimes, we'd all love to go back for a do-over, but that's not reality. Put life into the context of living it and move on.

Being Fired for Cause

The Registrar for Riverside County does it again: elections were Tuesday and there are still 28,000 provisional ballots not counted, as well as approximately 2000 mail-in ballots, one of which may be mine.

Would anyone else with such a dismal performance at a time when doing her job well really matters still be working for the county? Not!

UPDATING: She was fired yesterday, her department left with about 29,000 ballots left to count a full week after the election. She participated in a media interview and avowed that she's doing her job the best she can while operating within really difficult circumstances, but the Board of Supervisors responded: every other county in the STATE met the deadline -- except ours -- and this is 3 elections in a row with that dubious distinction.

Result: she's outta here. Finally.

A Kneed to Know?

It took me 2 months to write the letter to the first ortho surgeon, but I finally finished it and sent it to him and the CEO of the hospital for which he works. Just wanted to provide him with information that he could consider the next time he blows off a patient who repeatedly tries to provide him with specific information to help him accurately diagnose a medical issue. I knew there would be blow-back, but when weighed against the unremitting pain, as well as other developing side effects, I needed to send the letter.

Today, the phone rang. Calling was an office worker from the first surgeon's practice. He tried to contact the MRI provider, but could not substantiate that I had an updated MRI, from which I quoted in the letter, the first of September. I assured him that I did, but told him that I have another surgeon, a new treatment plan, and am scheduling another surgery to repair the torn meniscus. He informed me that he was going to call the MRI provider back, so I called the office to forestall the first ortho surgeon from unauthorized access of that information.

Yep, it's true: the office staff there cannot find the second MRI. I told her that I'm holding it in my hand, gave her the date, my name spelled correctly, and the MRI number -- but she cannot locate it in their records. Well, I told her, that's okay I guess, but just in case you do find it, I do NOT give permission to the former surgeon to access those records. He didn't read the first MRI I brought with me, so why would he want to read the updated one that I had after leaving his practice?

My goal is to have the surgery, get back on both feet and hope that my left hip responds positively to the lack of limp, and then move on with my life. There is no going back, no redoing the last year of my life, so it's wasted energy to be stuck there. I have copies of both the first and the updated MRI; I know that my injury was not treated properly, but I am confident that my new doctor is doing what it takes to change that outcome.

Dream On

There is an older housing area across the street from the airport, technically in Cat City, not PS. The homes were built to offer affordable housing to people who could not afford it, and the area began with families celebrating owning their little piece of the American Dream. Hence, the area became known as Dream Homes.

In the past decades, the area has been a notorious gang neighborhood, with older residents barracading themselves behind locked doors, afraid to come out, especially at night. A commitment by local police to rid the area of the gangs has been marginally successful, enough that the residents began renovating homes, upgrading landscaping, and creating a true neighborhood community of families and friends. Within the past 5 years or so, however, the gang-related crimes have become more commonplace, including shootings.

Because the CV is a straight shot from the Mexican border, it attracts illegal aliens and criminals fleeing Mexico. The Mexican cartels are on a killing spree, so more and more of the illegal immigrants bring with them guns and a "kill or be killed" mentality. The shootings are not localized, as they once were, and within the past month the number of fatalities in the Valley is shocking. People are being gunned down on the streets and law enforcement believes that the majority of the killings are gang-related.

Night before last, at 6:30 pm, a family gathered in the Dream Homes neighborhood while a 16-year-old mother and her 17-year-old boyfriend showed off their new baby to friends. A passing motorist, who knew the people standing outside their home, pulled to the curb to join the gathering, sharing the joy of the new baby. Another car drove by slowly; the passenger rolled down the window, shouted at the group "Where you from?" and opened fire.

The young mother died instantly, still holding her baby. The man who stopped to admire the baby died from his wounds. The baby's father was shot multiple times, but it appears that he's going to survive. The shocking totals: 2 dead and 4 wounded, with others fleeing for their lives. One of the wounded was the months' old baby, who was shot in the leg.

The police have concluded that because the young father is an acknowledged gang member, this probably is a gang-related shooting of people who were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Evidently, the individuals in the car were out cruising the neighborhood, looking for an easy target. Anyone in the Valley who wants to know where to find gang activity knows where it is. Even with a fairly clear description of the vehicle, neither it nor the two shooters inside have been found.

It is not politically correct to racially profile criminals, but when the criminals are from Mexico, identify themselves with tattoos as belonging to Mexican gangs and cartels, cross the border illegally, and shoot citizens walking down a street or standing in front of their homes showing off a new baby, it's time to be a whole lot less politically correct. Both California and Arizona law enforcement must target these gang-bangers and take them off the streets. Unfortunately, woe be unto a police officer who shoots and kills one of them because the Mexican gang members who are killing people on our streets are protected to the fullest extent of the law, while the law enforcement personnel must justify the shooting.

President Obama refuses to address the direct link between the Mexican criminals and the dramatic increase in crime along the border states, much less authorize effective means to combat the problem. Ironically, the President believes that Mexicans are being racially profiled and targeted unfairly because they cross the border illegally, not because they are criminals. When Arizona got tough in an effort to stop the overt criminal activity along its border, the President ordered Arizona to back off, rather than stand up himself to Mexico's protest.

Sometimes, it's easier to be wrong than it is to stand up for what's right. The border states must work together to stop the hemmoraghing of criminals from Mexico into America, even when it means taking on the Presidents of Mexico and the United States to do it. People who have nothing to worry about should support law enforcement agencies targeting criminals; criminals should not walk the streets with impunity, but always be looking behind them to see who's coming to take them off the streets.

The killing spree is not going to stop on its own. How many more shootings will it take before law enforcement is fully empowered to deal with the issue that is, not with what the politicians wish it to be?

Drivin' the Car

Can you hear us now?

The PEOPLE have spoken to the politicians and their voices must be heard: we do not want to continue with the policies and practices that are currently impacting our lives. It's not a two-party divide, but it certainly is generational: the Democrats went after the youth vote, using the popular media tools to help them board the (twitter) bandwagon in 2008, but we old folks, the ones who pay for the gas, took away the credit cards last night. The young people moved on as soon as the 2008 election was over: short attention spans. We older folks live in long-term memoryville!

From now on, it's cash and carry: if we cannot afford it, we aren't going to do it. No, we aren't going to sit in the back seat, hanging on for dear life while the driver of the bus talks, texts, and twitters, instead of paying attention to the road ahead. The President told Republicans "not to do a lot of talkin'" while he cleaned up the mess, a boast he was not able to back, but a personal challenge he may now want to consider.

The ballots have been counted, Mr. President. Ouch.

Two stunning shockers: Jerry Brown is back as California's governor and Harry Reid keeps his senate seat. Wow. I remember Jerry Brown from the first time around ... . Of course, Brown says that now he's of an age to do things differently, but I'm not sure what he means by that: promise or threat? Harry Reid won't have Nancy Pelosi to prop him up in front of the cameras and tell him what to say, so Lord only knows the path of his on-going descent into senility.

Paraphrasing Mrs. Obama, who gushed that it was "the first time in my adult life" that she was proud of America after her husband's election in 2008, this is one of the many times in my adult life that I, too, am proud of all Americans who exercised the right to vote ineffective, arrogant, and offensive politicians out of office. Now, Mr. President, you may want to take your own advice and "not do a lot of talkin'" until you figure out what to do about all the changes coming your way in Washington.

The PEOPLE have spoken: lead, follow, or get the hell out of the way!

Health Care Reform or Rip-Off?

As of the first of the year, my monthly health care premium for the Part C Medi-Care coverage I opted to purchase increases twice in a short 5 months. Thus, I currently pay $137.47, but will pay $155.50 by May 2011, an increase of $18.03/month, or $216 annually. If I understand correctly, I am then again due for another rate increase at the end of next year -- twice.

With these increases pretty much a done deal, I can continue to pay the increased rates or decrease my coverage, the old "between a rock and a hard place" forced choice situation that leads many senior citizens to drop their coverage at a time in their lives when it is most needed.

Meanwhile, the medical professionals book as many appointments as they can to make up for the decreased payment allowances being made by the insurance providers. If you don't get the money upfront, you have to bring the payee back often to keep the revenue stream flowing. Thus, a simple annual check-up starts at the primary care physician, but then involves the lab for blood work, the cardiologist, the eyes/nose/throat specialist, the bone specialist, the mammogram clinic, ad infinitum, the purpose of which, according to my primary care clinic, is to rule out anything about which I may not be aware. When I add a trip to the dentist and another visit with my eye care professional, neither of which is covered by insurance, I am paying, paying, paying -- and also paying for the insurance policies!

Reform by any other name is simply another ill-conceived piece of legislation that was signed before it was written.

Election Perspective

The basic difference between political philosophies no longer seems to be support for either the Democratic or the Republican party platform, but concern about the intensity of the role of government in both making spending decisions and controlling individuals/ communities/ states with those decisions. It appears to be generational whether a person wants the government to pay for the plethora of entitlement programs or sees the role of government as the mechanism to maintain the infrastructure, while staying out of the governance on a local level.

People who do not want to raise taxes conversely want "the government" to pay for the entitlements that make the USA so attractive to the unemployed, as well as the unemployable. If I am an individual who wants what everyone else has, but I have lived my life as a welfare recipient, rather than as a contributing financial partner in my lifestyle, I expect that the government will provide me with assistance vis a vis my welfare check, my food stamps, my subsidized housing, my medical care -- but I may not connect these "free" services to the fact that they are provided by tax revenue, not money picked off the money tree growing in the backyard. If this is my lifestyle, as well as my mindset, I am going to vote (if I choose to vote) for the candidate who seems most willing to provide me with what I expect.

Any candidate who says "no new taxes" is living in fantasyland, not in reality. We cannot continue to pay for all of the free programs currently funded through tax revenue if we do not raise taxes. Deficit spending means that we are crashing our financial stability by borrowing money we don't have to pay for the financial obligations we do have. If we do not cut the financial obligations, we cannot pay the bills for them, and we devalue our currency and collapse our economy.

In our own lives, we need to live within our means, but we have a recent 25-year period of unprecendented economic prosperity that led the majority of people throughout the world to demand the highest level of lifestyle any country has ever seen. We bought what we wanted, when we wanted it, sloughing off the reality that it has to be paid for or forfeited. The result is closed economic doors that may never reopen because no one paid the amount due when it was due and in full. Again, if you cannot afford to pay for it, you cannot afford to buy it -- and buying on credit is still buying it! Walking away from one's debts was never an option until the government made it an option by recent financial decisions that allowed consumers to do so. The bills are still out there, still unpaid, but there is no one standing in line to make the payments.

There are few honest politicians, just individuals who think they can either do the job differently in a system that is inherently designed to prevent anyone from making real changes or individuals who crave the power that comes with a political career. It does not matter which candidate is elected because politicians vote their decisions, not the will of the people. Our system has lost the rule of the majority for the political expedience of the powers behind the talking heads on the TV screen. One man/one vote used to mean that "my" man represented "my" vote; today, it means that the elected politician represents his/her own interests regardless of what the people want.

We didn't allow people truly to fail, to lose everything they have and have to earn it back, during the recent financial crisis. Government stepped in and manufactured a hail Mary pass that seemed to be caught for a touchdown, but was fumbled in the end zone. We are no better off today than we were 2 years ago, or even a year ago, but we are much better at hiding how badly our economy is failing than we were then. It was so obvious that we had inflated our lifestyle to the point where collapse was going to be the only result, but people were shocked when it happened. This was nothing like the Great Depression, and I believe it's going to take that kind of collapse to turn our lives around, not just to get us back on track in our own lives, but in the role of government in our lives. We have to be able to stand on our own two feet, not on our daddy's toes, as we make our way through our adult lives and responsibilities. Anyone who relies on the government to care for them, rather than caring for themselves, creates a dependency on a paternalistic agency that is unhealthy and economically dangerous.

Yes, I have voted. I am not happy with the default choices I have made, Democrat, Republican, and Independent, but all I can do is work with what is on the ballot. For every opportunity to vote to limit government, I have voted to do so, whether candidates or ballot measures. I do not believe in entitlement programs, nor do I believe anyone who promises to make the kinds of changes that simply cannot be made. I do not support anyone who believes that we can buy our way out of economic instability, nor do I believe anyone who promises to go to Washington and get things done.

The reality is that we are beyond the sophomoric rhetoric and we should be smarter than the way we are treated by the publicity campaigns of politicians who make promises they cannot keep.

Halloween

Why would anyone either want to host a party or attend one in the CV? This weekend, 2 men shot/wounded in my west end community, shooters still on the loose, and 2 men killed at the east end, with all the guests fleeing the scene when they heard the shooting. No witnesses; no one willing to talk; everyone just thankful they were not the victims ... this time.

This is a common event at a party -- any party, including baptisms! I cannot fathom that any parent would consent to host an event and/or allow their children to attend an event.

It's trick-or-treat night, and Lord only knows what will happen as the excited children run through the neighborhoods gathering Halloween treats. We used to have to worry about unsafe drivers and poorly lighted streets, but it seems that this week, we need to worry more about gangsters carrying real weapons and firing live ammo.

What a sad commentary on our communities.

UPDATING: I had the fewest trick-or-treaters at my door since I moved to this small desert town. The majority of them were young children, accompanied by their parents. The large groups of older teens were absent this year, which was, in some ways, a relief. Guess the word is out that it is NOT safe on the streets!

Hard to Believe

Last week, a homeless man dressed in dark clothing tried to cross the main street through town by cutting across the middle of a block. No street lights; no crosswalk; no success. He was hit by a passing car and left to die in the roadway.

The driver and the vehicle were found this week. Believe it or not, the driver said he didn't stop because ... (1) the car is not registered; (2) he does not have a driver's license; (3) he has no insurance; (4) he's blind in one eye; and (4) he was involved in another accident recently that he also did not stick around to resolve.

Any one of those factors should have kept him from driving, but in this area of the state, that's pretty much the norm, rather than the exception. We feel free to conduct sobriety checkpoints, but it has been determined to be racial discrimination to stop vehicles and check for ... registration, insurance, and a valid driver's license ... because so many illegal residents have none of the above, although all of those terms and conditions are required by law BEFORE operating a motor vehicle.

The man has now been charged with a string of criminal actions, including involuntary manslaughter for the death of the homeless man. Perhaps we all can breathe a sigh of relief that he's not on the roads aiming his death machine at other potential victims?

Ecstatic!

Out with the old; in with the new. What a difference a new power strip makes!!

My new TV began randomly turning off and then back on, beginning with the recent thunderstorm that rattled through our area. I didn't think too much about it until I also lost the "guide" function that allows me to look at the day's offerings and set up to DVR that which I will watch tomorrow. Curious, I got down on the floor, a huge undertaking when one cannot bend one's knee, nor put direct pressure on it, and saw that the power strip was blinking. Deciding that was, indeed, not a good sign, I drove across the freeway to the big box store's electronics' department and bought both a new strip for the media center and for the laptop computer--just in case, ya know.

Wow, I am totally ecstactic with my new strips! The picture on the new TV is so sharp and crisp, and the remote device works much quicker than it was. I know that bad weather affects the cable input off the surrounding poles, but I had no idea that a bad power strip could also affect electronic performance. Guess I just wasn't thinking in the viagra vein ... boosting the performance of an old, tired piece of equipment.

Also, I had the carpet cleaners come in, for which I believe I paid the technician's monthly mortgage payment. I had no idea just how expensive it could be to remove pounds of dog hair from carpeting, tile floors, and a huge wrap-around couch. The good news is that my house smells much cleaner than it has recently, especially since Crazy Dazy was reluctant to go outside to potty during the storms. The tech told me that the solutions used during the cleaning help to dissipate the odor of urine, but also discourage pets from returning to the spot again. However, in my living room, there are many acres of unspoiled carpet left to soil, and winter is just beginning.

I enjoyed sitting outside for the 2 hours the cleaning took, reading a good book by Rick Mofina, The Panic Zone. I picked up my first Mofina novel as I was drawn to the name (how fine is he? Mo-fina!), but I've read several as he writes a good story that would also make a good movie, especially if Matt Damon is looking for work. The Jack Gannon character is more clever than smart, and more determined than daring.

The dogs aren't too happy with spending the day outside, but until the carpets and the furniture are dry and I've brought back all the scatter rugs for their most favorite nap areas, they are staying outside. It's a beautiful day in the neighborhood, and all too soon it will be too cold to enjoy so many hours sitting in the sunshine. Besides, I haven't quite finished my Mofina and still have a couple of hours of daylight left to do so. Priorities, people!

Refining Lies Into [Faux] Truth

Campaign reform needs to be a top priority before another election is held. A campaign is the model opportunity for both candidates and the media to create "truth" that is unique to the individual and/or the PR opportunity. Candidates and the media glorify the tiniest pieces of alleged truth into a campaign for "truth, justice, and the American way," while the falsehoods are shit spun into cotton candy. No one wins, and the biggest loser is people's belief in the government that no longer represents we, the people.

What I have gleaned from the current campaign is that it's okay to say whatever you want to say to discredit the opposition as long as you never have to say "I'm sorry." If you can walk away from the faux truth without admitting that it's a vague representation of the tiniest speck of the truth, you win. If you can find a dynamic way to spin and refine lies into a new take on the truth, you win bigger. This on-going process of refining lies into [faux] truth has been going on in Cally-phone-ya for well over a year, so it is currently impossible to ascertain who is lying, much less which candidates may be telling a piece of the truth.

Campaign reform could include a 90-day campaign with a spending limit of $1 million dollars that is deposited into a special account controlled by a federal employee. If you cannot sell yourself for office in 3 months, you aren't going to accomplish that goal in 24 months. It also should be illegal to use quotes out of context, such as the current side-by-side of our CA Governator and Meg echoing the same words, sound bites taken from past public speaking engagements that depend on uttering the same trite phrases endlessly in an effort to enfuse them with sincerity and import. Even President Obama finally had to retire the "slurpee" metaphor because he beat it to death and it lost its effect. Ditto the change to latte, as well as the on-going car being driven into a ditch, off a cliff, opponents sitting in the back seat, and taking away the car keys. An equally important reform is the ban on using any newspaper articles as "proof" of anything because the newspaper is a political organization that promotes not just its own agenda, but its own candidates. There is no fair and balanced, no impartial analysis, no political neutrality from any business and/or organization that either accepts money for media advertising or donates money to the candidate's campaign.

I am offended by the out-of-control spending of both government agencies and political candidates. CA legislators regularly receive new laptops so they can stay plugged in to their voter base, but our school systems cannot afford to replace the desktops used in the computer labs that were purchased with the big show of technology for all a decade ago. CA legislators have extensive staffs to help them to perform their jobs, while schools have laid off both full- and part-time staff. CA legislators have auto and travel allowances, while school districts cut busing sevices for school children.

Add to that entitlement mentality the millions of dollars that are spent to win an office, money that could be donated across the state to worthy beneficiaries, and it turns representation into reprehensible.

We're always willing to cut the other guy's pay and benefits, but it's time to look in our own lives for ways to reform the process that we created during the high-livin' times and set an example for what we'll do when we're elected. If Meg actually had multiple millions to spend to become the Governor, someone needs to ask her why: she's already a financial success, and the bottom line is that she will have no power to fire the elected officials who are in office to further their own agendas, nor to downsize the huge, inefficient workforce and ship the state's business overseas. If Meg had spent $1 million on her campaign and the other one hundred million in donations throughout the state, not only would I probably vote for her, but think of all the FREE publicity she would have been given in the process!

Talk about showing the people not just the truth of what you say, but what you do and who you are.

It’s Challenging to Run in an Race That Has Already Picked a Winner

Michael Costello has been on Project Runway this season, a local designer with big dreams for his fashion future. He was treated poorly by the other contestants vying for the top prize, accused of being a shoddy craftsman, a cheater, and limited in his design aesthetic. Thus, it was no surprise that although he made it to the Final Four, he was not one of the top three designers, even though he was heads and shoulders a better finalist than Granola Gretchen. The final insult: he got a “bye” from Heidi, not the traditional German farewell.

Gretchen came across during the show as a lying bitch. She was the one who made disparaging remarks about all the other contestants, while putting her “poor me” self out there as the only contestant who has given up everything in her life for her career. She was totally two-faced, while her designs were patently one-dimensional. She could talk up a piece of crap and make it sound like caviar, but what surprises me is that the panel of fashion experts always ate the crap! Her final showing of 3 pieces from her Fashion Week collection was dismal, with a look of ready-to-wear that was surprisingly mundane, but she was selected for the runway show at Fashion Week!

Mondo and Andy were the top 2 designers, almost from the git-go, but Michael was always the most professional of all the candidates. He did not disrespect the other designers, but wisely kept his own counsel and let the others do the dissing. Michael's designs were always evolving, and his use of fabric (even when he didn't know the name of the material) was skillful. His models always looked womanly, with none of the obvious cheap short-cuts taken by some of the other designers to catch attention, rather than be good. When it came time to pick who should go and who should be out, Michael recognized that the best were Mondo and Andy: go up against the toughest and do your best to win. Gretchen, on the other hand, disparaged Mondo, Andy, and then Michael, but picked Mondo and Andy as the competition to beat.

My opinion is that it hurt the selection of the Final Three to have no unbiased guest panelist: Heidi Klum, Nina Garcia and Michael Kors already knew their favorites and were going to send them to the Big Show! Heidi gushed over everything Gretchen did, while pretending that she was schooling Gretchen in the elements of design, even to the point of not booting Gretchen off the show when she admitted in one of the final challenges that she was emotionally defeated and just could not come up with a decent final design or execution. No matter her excuse for her failure to perform week after week, Gretchen was kept on all the way to the Final Three.

I think reality shows are rigged games for people who are willing to roll with what happens now to further their own agendas down the road. It amazes me that small people become big wage earners not because of who they are and what they can do in the real world, but because they play a reality show game and create a persona to draw the media’s eye. Elizabeth Hasselbeck is a great example of a “nobody” who pushed her way into the public eye and now represents an allegedly conservative demographic by out-shouting the other panelists on The [Very Biased] View. All of the current and ex-wives on all of the “Wife” reality shows are another black eye on the mores and morality of today’s viewing public: we watch, so it’s our responsibility that they are on-air and in the media. The Situation is now earning in excess of $1.5 by promoting his gag-me tagline, as well as his life philosophy: gym, tan, laundry. Meanwhile, the unemployment lines swell with well-educated, highly-skilled workers who cannot find a job, much less a decent salary that allows them just to keep their homes.

I wish Michael Costello the best in his future because I am sure he has a future. Rumor has it that he has teamed with Mondo for post-Project Runway, and the two designers will open their own design company. They are both good designers and have earned a future in their chosen career, but I sincerely hope that we’ve heard the last of Granola Gretchen and her failure to launch her line, her career, herself.

Doggone It

This has been a doggie week, with deposits on the living room carpeting by a dog who refuses to go outside when it's raining, but relishes playing in the sprinklers. Go figure. Mia doesn't get why Daisy hasn't been thrown outside, as she was when she was a puppy in training, but I can only do what I can do without injuring myself. Daisy is scolded, but that does nothing to dissuade her when it's raining. She also poops in the landscaped yard, rather than the dog run, so Mia has joined her in that new habit. Perhaps the good news is that I don't have to walk so far to clean it up? The carpet cleaners are coming this week, and I'll ask them how to keep Daisy from using the carpet as her potty, but nothing I've ever tried in the past has worked, so I'm not hopeful they have a remedy.

We also tangled with two dogs who came thundering toward us from under a slowly- opening garage door when we walked after work on Wednesday. Thankfully, the two men in the garage came to our rescue, but it was frightening! I grabbed the smaller of the 2 dogs, the brown one about Daisy's size, and hurled him off to the side, an action made without thinking, but which bought us a few seconds so the men in the garage could join the fray. The men made quick work of getting their dogs under control and apologized profusely, but it's just what dogs do. After the fight, Daisy strutted her stuff, proud of her aggressive defense of both Mia and me.

The next afternoon, our walk was marked with poop: my dogs' poop. Mia and Daisy never take a dump on our walks, so it was strange to use both the plastic bags I always carry and come up short when Mia did a really big job on someone's front yard. I had to drive back to the property to clean up as I'd already filled the other 2 bags from Daisy's donation. I'm not sure what I fed them that had such a strong reaction to their digestive systems, but whatever it was did a great system cleanse.

A small fluffy white poodle has been terrorizing the neighborhood, this time crawling under the fence next door and entering Brownie's world. Brownie barked his head off, so the fluffy ball got between Brownie's wooden fence and my wire fence, which really ticked off Brownie and also got my 2 girls barking. What a noise! The poodle runs all over the neighborhood, so it could be a stray, but calling the pound is an exercise in futility as what you hear is how short-staffed they are with all the job cuts, not that someone will come pick up the dozen or so stray dogs that roam the neighborhood on a daily basis.

This morning, Daisy did what I call her "searchlight" walk, where she crosses back and forth in front of both Mia and me throughout the entire walk. The problem with this is that I keep tripping over her because she'll stop suddenly right where I'm going to step. To avoid her, I pull up short, and the torn meniscus does not like that kind of sudden halt. I use a short leash to control her, but sometimes that is worse than just letting her roam at the end of the leash.

Life with two dogs is still a work in progress.