A Reminiscent Saturday Giggle

I've been reminiscing about our Wendy Girl and reading old posts this afternoon. Since it's so danged HOT today, and since I had to get up so danged early this morning to make it to the change of command at Belle Chasse in time (who holds a change of command at 0900 on a Saturday?!?!), I think I'll indulge myself with a little re-post from October of last year. It made me laugh, so maybe it will tickle your funny bone, too.

Kinda Like What the Mainstream Media Spoon-feeds Us


I overheated my brain over the weekend, so today's post will be fluffish. Plus, my future son-in-law just cracks up every time he sees this box -- he even took a picture of it once so he can crack himself up at home -- so I thought the photo on the box might crack up other folks, too.

We have a geriatric beagle who, despite her age, is constantly on the hunt. The hunt is for food. "Food," in Wendy Whiner's mind, needn't necessarily be edible, and she'll take it where she can get it.

Hence, she is known, for polite discourse, as a poop eater. That is not precisely the phrase my husband uses, but you get the general idea.

Yes, you read that correctly -- she eats poop. Often. With gusto.

Since the consumption of one's own -- or someone else's -- poop can be detrimental to one's health (and, observing the process can be detrimental to the observer's gag reflex), the practice is one that is to be discouraged. "Scooping" is not the answer -- a wily beagle can always find a way to beat the scoop.

So, the product pictured above has been stocked in our house for some time and used according to package instructions to try to break Wendy of her between-meal snacking habits. It claims to "help stop your ... dog from consuming its own feces." How is this miracle product supposed to work, you may wonder? Once consumed, it moves through the digestive system and discourages the dog from wanting to re-eat the by-product because it makes the poop taste bad.

Yep -- it makes the poop taste bad.

Foolish me -- it never occurred to me that poop could taste any way but bad.

For all the unpleasant imagery that it evokes, does the product work well?

Not when one lives with a determined beagle who has a poop monkey on her back.

I'm with the chihuahua on the box, however. Is that a great face, or what! Kinda the same expression I had on my face last week when the Nobel Peace Prize was announced.

Aw, come on -- you knew I had to get in at least one political dig, didn't you? And the dig is pretty much about the same subject matter as the rest of this post -- the knee-jerk reaction to both is "Ewwwww."

The Spring Has Sprung

Remember this photo of the "spring" next to Moogie's Mansion? Well, guess what. It's apparently moved to one of the water meters leading to Moogie's Mansion. Not quite as fountainy, but steady.

I've called the Sewerage and Water Board about it several times, but didn't expect much action, nor gave it much more thought except in the mornings when Pepper has to straddle it to get into his big ol' truck.

Until this month's bill arrived. Then -- whoa!!

Ordinarily the bill for that meter runs about $18 for water/sewer and $12 for sanitation. The bill for this month ran a little higher. The total (including the sanitation fee) was $432.00!!! For 600,000+ gallons of water used!!!

So Pepper suggested that, to protect him from suffering a stroke, I should probably call the Sewerage and Water Board back. Which I did. And I talked to a remarkably pleasant woman named Gowandy. Yes, I asked her to spell it.

When she asked how she could help me, I replied that I was afraid the meter had been misread based on our usage history. She looked up our account and said, "Wow."

Then she asked whether we had suffered a broken pipe or leak in the yard.

A broken pipe or leak that wasted 600,000 gallons of water.

I replied that there is no leak in the yard, but that there is one at the meter. And, I added, I doubt whether that wussy little leak would generate 600,000 gallons of water.

So, she explained the procedure to me -- apparently this phenomenon isn't uncommon in the least. Go figure! And here is where the New Orleans flavor kicks in: they will send out someone to inspect the leak and check the meter, but we have to send in a payment. Not the whole $432 -- we're just supposed to send in what we would ordinarily pay, like $18.00, and there will be no late charge (which I will believe when I see it!). But, we also need to send in a separate check for $12, payable to the City of New Orleans, for the sanitation fee. We can even send the separate check in the same envelope, but there must be a separate check.

Knowing how accounting works in Orleans Parish, I didn't even ask why there was a need for a separate check. I really didn't want to know.

So, the wheels have been placed in motion -- we shall see when the Sewerage and Water Board inspectors show up.

Any bets?

A Clean Red-Letter Day

We made it to 32 years! That's Moogie, then-Major (Captain? Who can remember!) Pepper, the Son at age 6 1/2, and our posse.

And I'm currently much closer to that 1978 size than I was this time last year!

We're past the days of elaborate anniversary gifts because someone's going to find us someday, dead and dried up under a pile of the treasures (read: "junk") we have already, but my sweet, thoughtful Pepper is taking me out for cocktails and a lovely dinner at Cafe Adelaide tonight. No dishes for me!

What little sweet, thoughtful thing am I doing for him?

I cleaned the house!

I may not have ever mentioned it, but among Moogie's biggest claims to fame is her championship classification among the world's very worst housekeepers. I'm so darn allergic to dust and dust mites, and I dread those allergy symptoms so very much, that I put off the heavy-duty cleaning until the house is really dirty (and practically guaranteed to make me sick). Having a black lab who sheds hair like Pig Pen in the old Peanuts cartoon strip shed dirt doesn't help, either.

And losing Wendy.

Since we lost her, I've noticed how gross my kitchen floor gets! I recognized how much she "hunted" in the kitchen when she was with us (it kinda used to irritate me), but I guess I never appreciated just how much she "cleaned up" for me in the kitchen. A poof of flour could barely hit the hard wood before she was there, Wendy-on-the-spot, to "hoover" it up. "Hoovering" is what the kennel folks called it when she would keep that nose to the ground, hunting for any stray morsel of anything edible, and sucking it up.

Bouie and Rosie are no good at hoovering. I guess they deferred that job to Wendy for too long to take it up now. Bouie will scarf up meat-type stuff that falls overboard, but he's not that much into veggies or anonymous scraplets of stuff like Wendy was. Rosie, being mostly blind and usually deaf, loved summer squash in her heyday and would yap at me as I was preparing it until I gave her a piece, but these days she just can't see what's going on as she wanders around the kitchen.

Anyway -- Moogie's Mansion is clean! Plus, the termite guy came today and we have NO active termites! That's always a good report in southeast Louisiana!

Okay -- you got me. The termite guy's impending visit also contributed to my whirlwhind of domesticity. I mean, that guy has a high-powered flashlight, and he looks in the corners and behind the drapes!! But a clean house is also nice for one's husband of 32 years to come home to.

So -- I think maybe we'll have a little prosecco in the parlor tonight in fancy glasses so we can enjoy dustless carpets and furniture while it lasts.

Here's to the next 32!

Familiar, "Familiar," and Fond Adieu to Rue

I'm sitting here on a Sunday morning listening to the church bells chiming their golden-toned hearts out a few blocks over from Younger Daughter's house. Her sweet big dog (half lab, half Golden) and my little blind-and-usually-deaf shih tzu are lolling around on the cool tile floor while I pound on the keyboard before heading out to lunch with she-who-should-be-my-sister-if-I-had-siblings. We'll call her Diane. Since 2008, she has lived half the year in Little Rock and half the year based out of Hong Kong while she accompanies her husband as he travels the Pacific Rim with his kinda complicated job.

And it struck me.

Dang. The last few days have been just about nearly perfect.

I have gotten to spend a lot of time with Diane as we prepared to co-host a pre-wedding party for another of our friends' child, had lunch with my Daddy (and will get to see him again before heading south tomorrow), enjoyed my children's company, drove short-cuts and traffic-avoiding routes by reflex, laughed until I couldn't breathe, and enjoyed visiting with a whole houseful of friends at the party at one time.

I got to live, albeit briefly, the little things we take for granted until we move far, far away from "everything familiar." Little things that we recognize we miss when we return to them, even after we've lived far, far away long enough for there to become "familiar."

There's nothing like becoming the friend of an adult child (although, giving up the role of unsolicited-advice-giver is a little tough and takes a lot of practice. I'm still trying to master that one). I've always been close to my kids, but becoming their confidante and drinking buddy, being among the first they think about inviting to go to a movie or shopping, and watching them become willing friends to my friends is nothing short of solid gold. But now I don't want to go home to the "new familiar."

Except -- the "new familiar" is where Pepper and Bouie are, and they still need me in addition to loving me. And it's really good to be needed, too.

(Well, and, I miss them, too, I guess.)

So, the past few days have been just about nearly perfect, except I didn't get to see the grandkids because they went to the beach with their Mom and another grandmother, and Rue McClanahan passed away.

Sweet dreams, Blanche. And stay out of the oil, little ones! Moogie will be heading back to the "new familiar" if you need her.

Random Friday Thoughts

It's hot. I mean, it's hot and humid and I feel the crankiness factor ratcheting up.

I've got to find a long-term project that I can work on indoors in the pleasant splendor of un-green, southern, air-conditioned, de-humidified comfort. And my activity can't involve oil spills or fouled waterfowl.

I read about a race for some minor state-wide office in Arkansas in which an old head is being faced down by a young upstart. The youngster, in trying to paint the old incumbent as past-his-prime, described him as being on the "trailing edge of technology." While I usually stand up for the geezer, that's a pretty good slam.

It's Hurricane Season 2010 + 4 days. So far, so good.

I fear the "good hair days" are past us for this summer.

Starring Joe Sestak as "the John"

Yep. This is a better depiction of this odd couple than Heckle and Jeckle.

Heh.

Victoria Jackson is Right!

Remember this post? The one in which Victoria Jackson sings a clever song about there being a communist in the White House?

She was right. I know it for a fact.

How, you say, do you know it for a fact, Moogie?

Okay. I'll fess up.

I always wanted to be The Girl From U.N.C.L.E. or Mrs. Peel (of "The Avengers") when I grew up. My aspirations and inclinations toward espionage seem to have compelled me recently to become a "mole" in several liberal organizations so I can keep up with their shenanigans. One of those organizations is a particular political party fundraiser that counts the Young President among its membership,

Hence, and unfortunately, I receive several emails daily seeking monetary donations so they can "continue to keep pace with the Republicans." I mean, these folks are relentless money-grubbers! Today's offerings included this:

In appreciation of your support, we're offering a limited-edition poster of President Obama from renowned artist Anne Savage with a gift of $35 or more to the DSCC. "Out of Many, We Are One" has been featured in numerous publications including Time magazine, and pieces together faces of thousands of Obama supporters into a stunning mosaic of our president. "Out of Many, We Are One" perfectly captures the diversity of Americans who stand behind President Obama. It is truly a remarkable, one-of-a-kind work.

This is the poster:

"Remarkable," indeed. Folks, if this isn't the very definition of "communism" in graphic form, I'll eat my hat. I'll eat my hat smeared with liver baby food. (And if the very thought of liver baby food doesn't make you gag, there's something wrong with you!)

Do they really believe we're that naive? They might as well re-title the poster, "Out of Mao, We Are One."

There ain't no "e pluribus" there -- just the "unum."