Moldy Issues

In case you didn't know, there "was" mold at our new place. Not even 3 months and it's climbing up that walls. If you do know, then you also know I know a thing or two about mold. I greatly dislike our landlord. Okay, I fucking hate him, he deserves to be tortured and castrated. Possibly death, tho it may be too good for him. I try to get along, there are very few people I hate with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns, he's one of them.

Needless to say, he was very mean, belittling, insulting, rude, a whinny bitch, and many more that I can't write. He shouldn't own a company if you're not going to fix what you brake. The mold was in the walls to begin with, and we had a couple boxes stacked up ageist the wall for less than three weeks, moved them and wall is two and a half feet up the wall!

That's probably why Sam is so ill.

So while our fucking idiot of a landlord "fixes" the problem, Neil, Sam, and I are shacked up at my parents, more specifically in their bedroom (which has the master bath connected). Sam seems to be doing better, lots of canned food, lots and lots of love, and curiosity of why we're not taking him in the walk-in shower with us. Saw the vet today and said he's gained some weight. Plus he's taking the fluids like a champ (they poked him only once today!).

It also explained why I had three massive (ER visit grade) migraines in that short period. So many shots... so... many... But it's a necessary evil.

Oh, did I mention that it's really humid in our house? We asked about that and it's apparently our fault for not opening the doors and getting a dehumidifier, cooking anything that produces steam, and so much more. What? He told me that we shouldn't take hot showers or cook food. We could see our fucking breath it was so cold in the place, but apparently he thinks that it's too hot (actually told me that he was sweating, all while we can see breath!). He's a fucking idiot.

Here's something to make you guys smile then:

R.I.P. Misha

She will be missed. And thank you for helping to get rid of my fear of ferrets.

Internet Juckyard #23

They told me the big black Lab's name was Reggie, as I looked at him lying in his pen.. The shelter was clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly. I'd only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.

But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn't hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie's advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn't look like "Lab people," whatever that meant. They must've thought I did.

But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes, and a sealed letter from his previous owner. See, Reggie and I didn't really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too. Maybe we were too much alike.

For some reason, his stuff (except for the tennis balls --- he wouldn't go anywhere without two stuffed in his mouth) got tossed in with all of my other unpacked boxes. I guess I didn't really think he'd need all his old stuff, that I'd get him new things once he settled in. But it became pretty clear pretty soon that he wasn't going to. I tried the normal commands the shelter told me he knew, ones like "sit" and "stay" and "come" and "heel," and he'd follow them - when he felt like it.  He never really seemed to listen when I called his name --- sure, he'd look in my direction after the fourth or fifth time I said it, but then he'd just go back to doing whatever. When I'd ask again, you could almost see him sigh and then grudgingly obey.

This just wasn't going to work. He chewed a couple shoes and some unpacked boxes.  I was a little too stern with him and he resented it, I could tell. The friction got so bad that I couldn't wait for th e two weeks to be up, and when it was, I was in full-on search mode for my cell phone amid all of my unpacked stuff. I remembered leaving it on the stack of boxes for the guest room, but I also mumbled, rather cynically, that the "damn dog probably hid it on me."

Finally I found it, but before I could punch up the shelter's number, I also found his pad and other toys from the shelter...I tossed the pad in Reggie's
direction and he snuffed it and wagged, some of the most enthusiasm I'd seen since bringing him home. But then I called, "Hey, Reggie, you like that? Come
here and I'll give you a treat." Instead, he sort of glanced in my direction --- maybe "glared" is more accurate --- and then gave a discontented sigh and flopped down ... with his back to me.

Well, that's not going to do it either, I thought. And I punched the shelter phone number.

But I hung up when I saw the sealed envelope.  I had completely forgotten about that, too.  "Okay, Reggie," I said out loud,  "let's see if your previous owner has any advice."

____________ _________ _________ _________

To
Whoever Gets My Dog: 
Well, I can't say that I'm happy you're reading this, a letter I told the shelter
could only be opened by Reggie's new owner. I'm not even happy writing it. If you're reading this,  it means I just got back from my last car ride with my Lab  after dropping him off at the shelter.  He knew something was different. 
I have packed up his pad and toys before and set them by the back door before a trip, but this time... it's like he knew something was wrong.  And something is wrong...which is why I have to go to try to make it right..

So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you.

First, he loves tennis balls. The more the merrier.. Sometimes I think he's part
squirrel, the way he hordes them.. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn't done it yet. Doesn't matter where you throw them, he'll bound after it, so be careful - really don't do it by any roads. I made that mistake once, and it almost cost him dearly.

Next, commands. Maybe the shelter staff already told you, but I'll go over them again: Reggie knows the obvious ones ---
"sit," "stay," "come," "heel."
He knows hand signals:
"back" to turn around and go back when you put your hand straight up; and "over" if you put your hand out right or left. "Shake" for shaking water off, and "paw" for a high-five. He does "down" when he feels like lying down --- I bet you could work on that with him some more. He knows "ball" and "food" and "bone" and "treat" like nobody's business.

I trained Reggie with small food treats. Nothing opens his ears like little pieces of hot dog.

Feeding schedule: twice a day, once about seven in the morning,  and again at six in the evening. Regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand.

He's up on his shots. Call the clinic on 9th Street and update his info with yours; they'll make sure to send you reminders for when he's due. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet.  Good luck getting him in the car.  I don't know how he knows when it's time to go to the vet, but he knows.

Finally, give him some time. I've never been married, so it's only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He's gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn't bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially.

Which means that this transition is going to be hard, with him going to live with someone new.

And that's why I need to share one more bit of info with you....

His name's not Reggie.

I don't know what made me do it, but when I dropped him off at the shelter, I told them his name was Reggie. He's a smart dog, he'll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just couldn't bear to give them his real name. For me to do that, it seemed so final, that handing him over to the shelter was as good as me admitting that I'd never see him again. And if I end up coming back, getting him, and tearing up this letter, it means everything's fine. But if someone else is reading it, well ... well it means that his new owner should know his real name. It'll help you bond with him. Who knows, maybe you'll even notice a change in his demeanor if he's been giving you problems.

His real name is "Tank".

Because that is what I drive.

Again, if you're reading this and you're from the area, maybe my name has been on the news. I told the shelter that they couldn't make "Reggie" available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. See, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could've left Tank with ... and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq , that they make one phone.. call the shelter ... in the "event" ... to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my colonel is a dog guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he'd do it personally. And if you're reading this, then he made good on his word.

Well, this letter is getting downright depressing, even though, frankly, I'm just writing it for my dog. I couldn't imagine if I was writing it for a wife and kids and family ... but still, Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family.

And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he loved me.

That unconditional love from a dog is what I take with me to Iraq as an inspiration to do something selfless, to protect innocent people from those who would do terrible things ... and to keep those terrible people from coming over here. If I have to give up Tank in order to do it, I am glad to have done so. He is my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.

All right, that's enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter. I don't think I'll say another good-bye to Tank, though. I cried too much the first time. Maybe I'll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth.

Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight - every night - from me.

Thank you,
Paul Mallory

____________ _________ _________ _______


I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer.

I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog.

"Hey, Tank," I said quietly.

The dog's head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright.

"C'mere boy."

He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn't heard in months.

"Tank," I whispered.

His tail swished.

I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my face into his scruff and hugged him.

"It's me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me." Tank reached up and licked my cheek. "So whatdaya say we play some ball?"  His ears perked again. "Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?"  Tank tore from my hands and disappeared in the next room.

And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.

New Year Resolution Project 2014

I'm going to make it really easy this year (as in less stress). This year is going to be the year of the pictures. I'm going to take a million and a half pictures! The number is exaggerated of course, but you get the idea. I am looking threw the photos that have been saved (now with back ups) and relies that I don't have that many pictures if ANY compared to what I had before.

So, pictures! Lots and lots of pictures!!! Family, pets (who are we kidding? they're family!), events, and the non events. Would love a new camera but my phone is pretty decent.

Do a happy dance, it's going to be a photogenic year. <3>

Devastation

Ladies and Gentlemen.

I need help!

All my family photos (converted to digital copies, cuz what could go wrong?) have been permanently deleted because of my stupid computer wiping the whole thing! I ask that you help me, by sending photos of you and your family, and any of Neil and me. There gos all my beautiful family pictures from both reunions, the kids being born and their first cake. All the summer pool pictures that weren't loaded to facebook. So many cute photos of all my family (not just my mom's side) and they're all gone. Neil has been so supportive and is trying to get my computer running again, but there will be no pictures.

Oddly enough, I'm not upset about loosing my novel (I've been working on for YEARS).

But those photos. I'm truly heartbroken by this, and on our anniversary/christmas/Jen's birthday/UB's brithday/Tzviah's brithday. Amongst everything that's going on right now, I have to loose all these photos.

Please help me.

X-Mas Gifts

Next year for xmas I'm thinking of a rather large, year long project(s).

The girls (Lauren & Megan) like my "scrapbooks". I use the term loosely, because I have a unique way of doing it. This will mean I need to print a lot of pictures of them growing up, their favorite anime, and etc. I'll need a bunch of odd "junk" to glue to their covers. I usually just use things like broken earrings or buttons or various other odds and ends I can find.

This of course, leaves out Jayme... what in the world do I get him? Can I do the same thing for him? He is more of a video game person... maybe I can print pictures of him growing up and various pictures of his favorite video games?

THIS year, their gifts were picked out by Neil and myself! SO happy with them, I think they will love them. If they don't I'm going to strangle them myself.

--- --- ---

I've been trying to read, kinda a "gatch-up" thing for my New Years Resolution. I don't think I'll make it, but I"ll keep trying!!!

Lazy?

We all know I"m VERY lazy. I didn't really used to be like this, but as the years passed by after the car accident, I've become lazy with a capital Z.

We are all moved into our new place. Paul, Neil, Samuri, and I are all comfy. Sure we haven't completely unpacked, but like 90% of it is.

Aside from that, nothing has changed much since the last personal post. I haven't been reading much, tho I finally finished one of them! So happy about that. Personal victories!!!

Sam is coming out of his shell more and more. Paul pets him, and Sam is soooo loved.

Been making cookies! Eggnog and pumpkin chocolate chip. ;) I treat my boys right.

Internet Junkyard #22

ONLY A MAN WOULD ATTEMPT THIS

Pocket  Tazer Stun Gun, a great Gift for the  wife. 

A  guy who purchased his lovely wife a pocket Tazer for their anniversary submitted  this:
 

Last  weekend I saw something at Larry's Pistol & Pawn Shop that sparked my interest. The occasion was our 15th anniversary and I was  looking for a little something extra for my wife Julie. What I came across was  a 100,000-volt, pocket/purse-sized Tazer. The effects of the Tazer were supposed to be short lived, with no long term adverse affect on your assailant, allowing her adequate time to retreat to safety...?? 

WAY  TOO COOL! Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home... I loaded two AAA batteries in the darn thing and pushed the button. Nothing! I was disappointed. I learned, however, that if I pushed the button and pressed it against a metal surface at the same time, I'd get the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs. 

AWESOME!!! 

Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Julie what the burn spot is on the face of her microwave. Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only two AAA batteries, right? There I sat in my recliner, my cat Gracie looking on intently (trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions and thinking that I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh & blood moving target. I must admit I thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction of a second) and then thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger, I did want some assurance that it would work as advertised. 

Am I  wrong? So, there I sat in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched delicately on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, and Tazer in another. The directions said that:  a one-second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control; and three-second burst would purportedly make your asailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. Any burst longer than three seconds would be wasting the  batteries. 

All the  while I'm looking at this little device measuring about 5" long, less than 3/4 inch in circumferences (loaded with two itsy, bitsy AAA batteries); pretty cute really, and thinking to myself, 'no possible way!' What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best. I'm sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head cocked to one side so as to say, 'Don't do it stupid,' reasoning that a one second burst from such a tiny lil ole thing couldn't hurt all that bad.. I decided to give myself a one second burst just for heck of it. touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and... 

HOLY MOTHER OF GOD. WEAPONS OF MASS DESTRUCTION. WHAT THE... !!! I'm pretty sure Hulk Hogan ran in through the side door, picked me up in the recliner, then body slammed us both on the carpet, over and over and over again. I vaguely recall waking up on my side in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and tingling in my legs! 

The cat was making meowing sounds I had never heard before, clinging to a picture frame hanging above the fireplace, obviously in an attempt to avoid getting slammed by my body flopping all over the living  room.

Note:If you ever feel compelled to 'mug' yourself with  a Tazer, one note of caution: There is NO such thing as a one second burst when you zap yourself! You will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by a violent thrashing about on the floor! 

A three second burst would be considered conservative! A minute or so later (I can't be sure, as time was  a relative thing at that point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up and surveyed the landscape. My bent reading glasses were on  the mantel of the fireplace. The recliner was upside down and about 8 feet or so from where it originally was. My triceps, right thigh &  My face felt like it had been  shot up with Novocain, and my bottom lip weighed 88 lbs. I had no control over the drooling.

Apparently I had crapped in my  shorts, but was too numb to know for sure, and my sense of smell was gone. I saw a faint smoke cloud above my head, which I believe came from my hair.

PS: My wife can't stop laughing about my experience, loved the gift and now regularly threatens me with it! If you think education is difficult, try being stupid!!!!

Halloween

Today is a wonderful holiday. And it's going to be gone in a few short hours. The kids are getting ready, and for the first time in years, our house isn't decorated in any way for the event. I haven't felt like it, and mom hasn't either. It's a bit confusing. :p

Oh, did I mention I dyed my hair??

It looks a ton more blue than what it actually is. it's been almost two weeks and it's still this vibrant. I'm so happy with it, but I don't know if I'll do it again.

I've gotten hardly any reading done with my one book "Born of Night" by Sherrilyn Kenyon. It's good, I want to read more, but my head gets in the way. I did get to page 53 tho! It's taken a month to do it. I'm thinking of just returning it to the library and purchasing the book for my kindle. Should probably go and find out how much it is first....

Sam's been a lovey dovey cuddle bug lately. Mainly to Neil, but what can you do? I give him loves all the time tho. Kids are too loud for him and he gets scared, but we're adjusting. Don't know when we'll be able to get our own place. It seems like everyone doesn't want us. It's frustrating!

Happy Halloween to everyone. Embarrass the geek-outs!