Rocking with Rocco

When our big dog Mutley died, I stated that I did not want another dog, I did not want another dog, I did not want another dog. And then came Rocco, the puppy, the most rambunctious puppy in the world. Rocco with his plane wings ears and that left ear that sticks straight up like some radar installation when he hears something of interest. Rocco who practically turns himself inside out with joy whenever we come home. Rocco who has niggled his way into my heart.
ROcco is about as dumb as a box of bricks. This morning he was sitting on the end of the bed barking at the dog in the mirror. And wouldn't you know it, that silly dog in the mirror was barking back. Then suddenly it was the third race at Pimlico and here comes Rocco galloping into the living room a rubber chicken in his mouth. He gave the chicken a furious shake, smacking himself in the head while doing so, then back down the hall onto the bed to show the dog in the mirror his chicken. Only the dog in the mirror had a chicken as well. Rocco would have no parts of that and vocally protested, all the while holding the chicken in his mouth. Then it was the fourth race at Pimlico and wouldn't you know it, the rubber chicken got tangled around his feet and he skidded on his chin into the living room. He gave me a look as if he meant to do that and then sat and cleaned his whoopsie doodle.
Meanwhile, little dog Ollie is watching all of this from the couch shaking his hairy little dog head and giving me the same look and older brother gives when his younger brother farts in public or picks his nose.
"Kids, what can you do with them?"
In this case kiss Rocco right between those stick out ears and slip him a gummy bear or two.

Damn that gravity!

OK. How come when I buy a new toaster it lasts about 6 weeks and then craps out meaning I have to go to Wal Mart or wherever and buy a more expensive toaster because the husband sys I bought one too cheaply. Only the more expensive toaster craps out in about six weeks and so on and so forth.
How come service at many places stink? Stinks so badly that when you get mediocre service you think you've hit the mother lode and are about to weep for joy.
How come apostrophes won't sat pu't an'd en'd u'p all the p'l'a'c'e's' they shouldn't?
How come cars break down, televisions go on the fritz and computers crash?
How come with all of that does that damned gravity have to work... in my driveway... when my foot hits a particularly round stick and the ground comes up to meet my poor old lady knees? Huh? Why can't gravity be a slacker, un trained, inept, incapable? Why does gravity have to work so well? Certainly much better than a pair od bruised and battered knees that I know. Gravity... grrr...

What I learned today

I learned that if you play tug of war with a dog the size of a small pony, it's a good idea to NOT be sitting on a wheeled chair. Unless you really did mean to go rolling across the living room only to bounce off the wall when the dog suddenly lets go and you are rolling out of control.
That's it. Nothing more. Not a real stellar learning day.

Why is it....

That the big dog prefers the little bone and the little dog prefers the big bone? Whjy do each of them chew on their respective bones for a bit and then swap? Are they just waiting for the other one to soften it up? Do they like the taste of each other's mouth? Do they even think about it beyond... hey, that guy has a bone and I want it. Little dog Ollie is a great bone stealer, snatching them up and then tucking them under his body as if he were a hen trying to hatch her chicks. Bigger dog Rocco doesn't care how often a bone has been chewed, if there is bone left he will chew it. Years ago I found a low sided plastic basket someplace that has become our very own fossil bed, holding and uncounted number of bones that I suspect could actually build some kind of animal if I only knew how to assemble them. When rocco gets the urge to chew, he wanders over to the basket pushing the bones around with his nose until he finds just the right one. He settles down for a good gnaw or two and then Ollie will run to the door in a hurry signaling that something outside needs investigating. Rocco lurches to his feet, gallops to the door, puts on the brakes and slides into the door with a thuwmp. He rights himself and does a version of the peepee dance while Ollie muscles his way to the front of the line. I open the door, hook Rooco to his chain and then Ollie zips back in to the bone that Rocco had so carefully chosen and snatches it for himself. Meanwhile Rocco is still trying to figure out why he's outside, where's Ollie and then decides to bark at random shadows just in case he's missing something. One of these days he's going to catch on and Ollie will have to think of a new trick.

Freezing my whoopie de doodles off

The furnace crapped out on us last night. The blower blows, cold air and the piolet light is on but the burners don't light and the only hot air in the house is the husband. The same intelligent, wise husband who has a contract with the electric company so that they come and fix it for free...well free after the price of the contract which is something like $80.00 a year. Good thing, too, this guy has been here for about two hours now and since the regular price is $79 for the first hour and $40 for each 15 minutes afterwards we'd have to sell one of the sons to pay the bill. I'm assuming that we won't be needing a new furnace, I figure the guy wouldn't be spending so much time here if we did.
I wonder if he IS a licensed plumber. After all, there isn't a butt crack in sight, not even a suggestion of one. Surely any plumber worth his monkey wrench sports a jaunty butt crack.
One summer, the neighbor guy across the street masqueraded as a plumber and I swear no matter which way I was heading home, up the street or down, his butt crack was aimed in my direction. Someone suggested the next time that I saw it I should insert a quarter and see what I get. Hell, that baby coulda taken a whole dollar bill.
But there he was strutting his stuff. The guy is built like a pigeon, all chest and gut sorta pouffed outward and leading him. White as the pilsbury dough boy, hairless chest, thinning hair and a pony tail that looked like a long string of something unmentionable. Why do aging thin haired guys think a pony tail is so cute? The guy is in his late forties and with the butt crack, the pigeon strut and the bioluminescent body, no one is going to see the pony tail and swoon into his arms. After all this guy and h is wife named their son Indiana James after they went to an Indiana Jones movie when she was pregnant. The Indiana Jones move where we all learned that Indiana was the name of the guy's DOG. So Butt Crack guy and his wife Hag named their kid after a dog. Hey, they named a daughter Mystery. That opens up all kinds of cans of worms that some mean spirited person could throw around the room and drape all over everything. I won't it's not the kid's fault her parents try so hard to be so low class.
Ok enough ranting from me. I .. I.. I feel HEAT!!! Warmth! Sustinenence for a cold weenie such as I! Halleluiah I bow down before the mighty fixer man who IS a plumber even without the officious crack and worship at the altar of HEAT!

Yeah yeah yeah. I got carried away.

Does he have to be so damned cute?

We have a grand puppy. It wasn't our idea. Younger son had a girlfriend who whines at him untilhe spent far toomuch money on a decidedly odd looking dog. Rocco is part bull terrier (not pit bull but bull terrier you know like the ugly dog Bill Sykes dragged around with him in the Oliver movie) and part who knows what. The vet has even mentioned what a funny looking dog he is. His eyes are distinctly almond shaped and lined completely around as if he were the re-incarnation of a pharoah. His ears however down't stick up or lay down. In fact they just out sideways from his head for a couple of inches until they droop . Unless he hears something of interest and then the left ear sticks straight up. Only the left ear like some antenna. He's got the wide bull terrier chest and the swaggering walk that goes with it, but his legs are too long and so he is ungainly and awkward. He's always knocking things over or stepping in his food bowl and flipping the hard food all over the house so I'm always sweeping. Last night he decided that my new shoes were utterly delicious and he chewed one to pieces. Right after I bought him new chew bones.
I hate shopping. I hate shopping for shoes the most since they always seem to make my feet hurt no matter what. And if my feet don't hurt, my legs and back do so you can see I was less htan thrilled to have to go and replace the shoes. Now I don't believe in smacking an animal. Instead when I get mad at him I simply tell him I'm not talking to him and then ignore him.
Ok... so I try to ignore him. It ain't my fault that he's so damned cute, despite the ears and the mess. How could you not love a dog who thinks the chicken dance song is the starting gun for the Speed Racer race that rockets him from the bed in the big bedroom, down the hall, around the couch (of over it depending on his momentum) ricocheting off the dogs' pillow and then back down the hallway.
When he isn't galloping he plays vulture and drapes himself over the back of the couch staring at who knows what on the floor. I think he's just lulling us into a false sense of security because, should we be careless and wander too close to him, he pounces and thoroughly cleans our faces, ear and nose, inside and out. Since he grabs us with those overlong legs and hold on, you have to stand there and let him finish.
But the favorite Rocco pastime is Circus Pete. When any of us come home, the dog nearly jumps out of his skin with joy. He does however run up the door and does a back flip as perfectly as an acrobat. He sometimes makes it halfway up the door before the backflip starts which makes it all rather impressive.
Rocco loves everyone and everyone is his friend. Now if he'd only stop chewing shoes and stick to bones and pick up his toys that he spreads all over the house and if he'd only leave my craft room supplies alone.... when I try to craft at night, he's busy coming in and out of my room carrying the stuff out piece by piece.
I keep telling him he can't craft, he's got no opposable thumbs but I swear he's trying to prove me wrong.

Hooo Haaaa!

The office is mine, nearly. Devil woman had come in on Saturday to clean up her desk and take her stuff. Instead when I got in there on Monday there was papers all over what had been her desk, desk drawers open, a dirty mug and a knife on the desk top. THe three hole punch is missing. She claims she bought it. I wonder how that can be when I'm the one who picked it out while shopping with The Husband. So I'll bring in the cheapie three hole punch I have at home and let her have it. We are still using her fax machine, after all.
Today, the husband and youngest son went to the courthouse to gather foreclosure information. Once younger son gets a car it'll be his job to go and gather the information once a week. Devil woman used to do it and always showed up in the office in a rage. Always blamed the traffic but she could have just as easily blamed oxygen.
Anyway two of the men went to the courthouse while I stayed in the office and tried to be busy. I attempted to clean up Devil Woman's computer but it only drives me mad. Why in gods name would she have saved some files in three separate places, or no less than 5 bookmarks for the Postal service. Obviously she couldn't go to the main site and then click on whatever it was she needed. She had endless casserole recipes saved, a Lilo and Stitch pinball game, and every single message she typed up and gave to the husband. It's a womder that I didn't pluck myself bald.
Then younger son and the husband returned and younger son gave me a hand deleting junk on the computer. He said we'd be better off just wiping everything out and starting again. I wanted to throw the whole mess out of the window along with the knife and the mug. Apparently, she's coming back on Satuday to get the rest of her stuff. Why couldn't she do it last Saturday? A repeat business gives her a chance to see the husband again. She's always had a crush on him, wants her for her own. Ha! As if. Were she more intelligent she might have a chance but the husband can't stand a stupid woman.
I miss not having younger son at home. I see him nearly every week and cannot get my head around the fact that he is grown. He's talking about a second job beta testing and debating which kind of car should he get... a new...way expensive...a used...certified but still over $10,000.00, or just some clunker to get him back and forth. He works out of the home so he doesn't really NEED a car for work but I hate to think of him carless. He takes his job with his dad very seriously. I'm so proud of him. It's also good to know that there is another body determined to make this business a success. I suppose I don't have to worry about him anymore.
I'm sure, given time, I will find something to worry about. I always do.

Woooo Hoooo!

Devil woman has found herself a job and she starts Monday. Thank goodness. I am so excited even though it does mean that I will now be in the office with the Husband all day instead of just until 1. Now I can clear out those endless bookmarks on her computer and neaten up the files and get things running the way I want them to run.
She started with her nonsense again yesterday and today comes into the office, turns the fan on, and opens the door to the outer hallway. I was just starting to warm up because it had been chilly in the office all morning and she came along and spoiled it all. When the husband suggested that if she was hot she should remove one of the three sweaters she was wearing, she told him it was too much trouble. Uh huh. Too much trouble. I can really see her lasting in this new job... for about 5 minutes.
Anyway, now the husband can't hide anything from me since I'll be in his pocket all day. When he went on his little field trip to the Eastern Shore he told me that he had placed a contract on a property for about $110,000.00. I took it well though my heart did that try to scurrying up my throat and out of my mouth thing. Then today as he's sitting there on the phone talking to the real estate agent, it comes out that he put a contract on THREE properties for a total of $110,000.00. Really now, if he didn't want me going crazy over him buying 3 properties, he should have watched what he was saying. The funniest part is that he never realised he let it slip till I called him on it. What a goof. For some reason I can hear things without actually listening. It somehow just takes residence in my brain and I know. You had to hit Devil Woman in the head to get her attention. With me, the husband has my attention without meaning to. I have a feeling this is going to be a strange ride.

To Blog or Not to Blog

The husband told Devil Woman that she is out of a job by the end of January. That means I'll be able to take over and make some sense of the mess that is the office. I have never seen so much useless un-needed crap on a computer in my life. The bookmarks alone can boggle the mind. There are seven, count em, seven bookmarks alone for the postal service. Even worse, many of the now bookmarked sites end up in error pages. Then there are the blank documents that aren't blank that have someone's name or info or even a date on them. Last night, Devil woman typed up a receipt for some one and put the wrong name on it. Wouldn't have been so bad but the receipt is part of a package or contracts and papers that have the client's name on almost every page. So how come, all of a sudden, she types the wrong name. And she's on the door kick again. Not that doors are slamming but that the door that leads to the two offices on the top floor is locked during the day. That had her slamming her bag about yesterday.
The office is on the top floor of a very old building. Most of the time the only people about are us in our office and the guy next to us in his. I think it makes sense to lock that outer door. I certainly lock it when I'm in the building alone but you know the devil woman and her door thing. You should have seen the glare she gave me when I told her that I lock the door when alone. This is the same woman who doesn't want to be in the building at night so you think she would understand. Nope. Doors doors doors.
ANyhow I shook myself out of my blue mood of yesterday. I signed up a client on my own while the husband was looking at properties on the Eastern Shore. You would have thought that I had volunteered to do brain surgery on someone. Not only did I do it perfectly but in half the time it takes the husband because, while I talk to the client, I don't spend the majority of the time BSing with them. Devil woman thought she had to sign someon up in the afternoon and started in with her muttering. I told her that person had cancelled and the next one would be at 6pm and the husband would have been back by then. She's worked for him full time for three years. My tenure in the office has been sporadic but if I can sign someone up anyone should be able to. Hey I may end up being better at the job than the Husband himself. How cool would that be?

It's like sloggin uphill through oatmeal

We got the money from the refi and we had a Christmas so shouldn't I tra la tra la all light and happy and not down and out and feelling so blah. It isn't even February when the blahs really hit but I have felt this way since before Christmas.
I've been diagnosed with depression and am on prozac but to tell the truth I am sick of it. Sick of always feeling... feeling what...hmmm. Feeling as if I do not deserve anything good that comes along Feeling as if I deserve all the bad crap. Feeling like a big old whining baby all the time and unable to lift myself out of it.
I'm even finding it hard to take pleasure out of the unconscious stupidity of others. For instance, a local plumber has a sign announcing that he makes house calls. As opposed to what? I can't see people shouldering their toilets and dragging their pipework along behind them as they went to the other plumbers, ones who don't advertise that they make house calls. I should be able to see that in my head but my head is blank.
I can't even craft. I sit there at my table surrounded by what seems to be every supply in the world and pull on my hair. Not writing, not crafting, not cutting, just pulling.
Now I can go on stronger meds but that means that I have to go off Prozac first and get it all out of my system and since me without Prozac is more dangerous than a truck full of terrorists I don't dare. So I mope and whine and belly ache and hope that, some day, I will feel better.

How does he Do that, the saga continues

I've just returned from the neighbor's yard, with Rocco in tow. Not only did he get the door open but it was locked to boot. I know it was loacked because I'm the one who locked it and am the only one home, if you don't count the animals. I'm suspecting that Rocco isn't doing this on his own because my shoes are also missing. My shoes. Little dog Ollie has a tendency to steal a shoe occasionally. He only hides it, I suspect, to keep me from leaving the house. So now not only do I have to go get Rocco but I had to wear my slippers.
It's a big back yard and dark. I suppose it's a good thing that I've lived in this house for so long so I don't fall over things or stumble into gardens. If this keeps up, I may amputate Billy and Bob myself and not wait for the vet.
So now not only will I have to lock the door behind me all the time, I will also have to remove the key from the lock. ANyone want a dog?

How can he DO that?

Near puppy Rocco always wants to see what you're doing and, most of the time, he wants to help. I keep telling him that he doesn't have opposable thumbs but that doesn't seem to stop him. Somehow, he has managed to figure out how to open doors. I'm not talking about pushing them with his nose. I'm talking about a closed, have to turn the doorknob to get in, door.He's done that to a bedroom door, I don't know how many times and once he let himself into the bathroom for a sip of "Mommy" soup...aka bathwater. NOw he's figured out how to open the outside door to let himself and little dog Ollie out into the yard. That would be really handy because Rocco can never figure out where he wants to be. If he's in, he whines to go out. If he's out he cries and yelps as if his heart was broken.
Despite how wonderful this would be, he insists on leaving the yard and visiting the dogs in the yard behind us. He doesn't go out the open gate, that's too easy for Rocco, instead he somehoe manages to squeeze under or, for all I know, through the chain link fence to visit. It's frustrating to half to traipse out there and drag him home. I'm hoping his little trip to the vet will put an end to his wanderings. It seems that he'll be losing Billy and Bob the Ball brothers who hang around with Mr. Winkie. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. As for Rocco, if he's smart he'll be keeping his legs crossed. OUCH