That Girl Is A Cowboy............

There's just somethin about this time of year. In terms of cattle ranchin, it couldn't be any busier: shippin cattle, weanin calves—every day for two weeks straight. Poor babies bawlin for their mommas, day and night! In terms of housework: weedin out all the summer clothing and too-small jeans, locatin and inventoryin the myriad of winter gloves, hats, boots, earmuffs, because if I wait until the temperature is eight degrees and it's 5:00 a.m. and I'm on my way out the door with my two punks, neither of whom can handle the cold, it'll be a problem.

As for gardenin: cleanin out the last of my tomatoes and herbs, which are now black and droopin to the ground after four nights of hard freeze.

Not to mention the daily grind of laundry, dirty dishes, and laundry.

Then there are the upcoming holidays: Halloween costumes to wrangle, treats to make, trick-or-treatin in town (will post on that later this evening!). Refrigerators to clean out in preparation for Thanksgiving food, cloth napkins to dig out from the depth of the ironin basket, where they've been languishin since last Christmas, I think.

Not to mention the daily grind of school. Sometimes I think I'm entirely responsible for my punk's minds. Not to mention the fact that I have been the Homeroom mom every year as long as I can remember!

There's Christmas on the horizon; I want to start shoppin so I can make wise and un-hurried choices, but I'm having a hard time gettin started. I have my list, but every day I consider shoppin online for Christmas gifts…then don't, because I have so many other things that need to get done. So I'll avoid it for awhile, until I can't avoid it any longer.

I'm going low-key for Christmas this year. I just feel like it…..Remind me I said that in two months.

Then there's the trip: I'm leavin soon on a trip. It's a big trip, and important one, and there's a lot to prepare for—I'll tell ya'll about it soon. But first I have to buy crap to kill the Chinese lady beetles that have swarmed our house and power bars and make sure my oldest has jeans that don't come up above his ankles. He's growin up too fast.

There's the ice maker that's broken, the skylights that leak, the shingles that blew off one of the barns, the trash the dogs overturned last night, and an impending doctor's appointment tomorrow. And I say this with a grin, I don't think they'll be makin me wait to see the Doc tomorrow. Than heavens for small blessings.....

I might ignore it and see if it goes away.

But most of all, there's joy. Because I have animals in my life…and beauty everywhere I look…and clothing…and shelter as the weather turns cold, A couple of friends who kinda like me, Punks who call me Mom-mom, and the fact that they haven’t drug my ass off to a FEMA camp yet!

I still don't like ironin napkins, though. So I don't think I'm going to do it this year. Yeah, right…..

Thursday 13.....13 Frequent Thoughts That Cross My Mind When I Meet Someone New

13 Frequent Thought That Cross My Mind When Meeting Someone New

 1.  Why yes, I am rolling my eyes at you.

 2.  And this pertains to me because?

 3.  I wonder where he found that dirty legged tramp.

 4.  No, this isn't the Bohemian Cowgirl Salon. It's hell with fluorescent lighting.

 5.  Please don't play the victim. I don't have time to explain the difference between the truth and what you want to hear.

 6.  Apparently, this dumb ass has a crack pipe busted smooth off in his ass, if he really thinks I am buying this line of bullshit.

 7.  Do you believe in love at first sight or do I need to walk by again? And by the way, you will fall for me.

 8.  There's no way in hell I am taking your check, let alone a postdated one. In God I trust, all others pay cash!

 9.  The last thing I want to do is hurt you. But it's still on the list.

10.  Why yes, Yes I am a bitch. Just not yours. Are you new here?

11.  I'm a bullshitter myself but occasionally, I like to sit back and listen to an expert. Please Continue.

12.  It's okay to hate me. I'm sure I talk shit about you anyways. Jealous much?

13.  My eyes are right here. Yes, they're real. Yes, they're fabulous. And yes, your boyfriend/husband was looking.

Sundays Scribblings.....Under The Fall!

I love fall. I love this countryside in fall. I adore the burnt oranges, the Cavender's catalogs, the fall harvest, trail rides, and the weaning of calves. I love the football it brings with it, not to mention the hockey and snow skiing. Bonfires and quite possibly hot chocolate, caramel apples, and roasted pumpkin seeds. Logs in the fireplace, lit to take the chill off. Crisp mornings against a clear blue sky, hunting season, and the turning of the leaves. Let's not forget, Homecoming, Pilgrims and Indians represented in school plays, and hayrides. Cinnamon scented votives and knee-high boots, fattened squirrels and clocks falling back.

If I were prone to such things, here's where I would write one of those open letters and toss it into the vast beyond to absolutely no one in particular. And apparently I am very much prone to such things. So Dear radio: PLEASE DO LET US HAVE FALL.

Soon our FM stations will inundate us with Christmas music, and I for one hate it. You've barely had time to make your way through the fall harvest corn maze and carve your pumpkin with the explicit intent of scaring the neighborhood children to the very verge of incontinence before they start with the not so dulcet tones of Springsteen's Santa What Not is Coming to Albuquerque and Madonna's insipid Santa Baby (PUKE). It simply isn't time, and like a preemie who hasn't warmed all the way through, I'm simply not ready.

So please, let me have my Irish Coffees and gallons of not particularly seasonal mulled red wine before I go there, would you? Let me curse dirty leaves that make their way into my pickup as well as my front entry way and one or more OSU Cowboys losses or Good Lord willing, wins--Long Live Cowboys. Let me be well into sweaters, hoodies, and scarves and, for the other unfortunate few, knitted hats that don't in any color scheme match their coats, other that to make them look like a burglar begging to be caught, before you strike. At least rest until the storing of canned cranberry jellies have passed. Because cranberry and a blue Christmas? It just isn't a good look for anyone!  And I am quite sure Santa won't mind one bit, although I do......

Then when we are ready, when the masses face frozen car doors, calves born in the middle of the night, punks with chapped cheeks, and the warm embrace of family holiday guilt, bestow upon us the Bing, Gene Autry, Burl Ives, and pretty much anything Perry Como. I'll support a three-week spree, MAX. And when New Year's passes, know that it's time to move on, time to resist the urge to start building the playlist for Christmas in July. Because like fruitcake and the Celine Dion box set, no one ever really asked for that anyway. For truth be told, there is no gift an imaginary Santa could bring that remotely compares to the only reason for the Season, Father God's gift of the birth of his only son, sent to save us from a fate worse than Christmas credit card debt. For you see I love Christmas as much as the next gal. I've just never understood how so few seem to remember the greatest gift EVER given.

Saturday's Sass......Easy On The Eyes, Hard On The Heart!

Do you think Wrangler know what this does to women? I would think it would open them up to all kinds of lawsuits. LMAO! Lord knows there are lots of things a woman would do for some of that!! Is that Wrong??????? It's all about the little things....the small pleasures in life. Mmmmm.....I need me some small pleasures, here directly!!! Apparently, I have been single for far too long

I Want Wednesday....You Know Mw Better Than That

I hate being misunderstood. Hate it. I despise it more than more than baby powder scented products, more than someone taking the last of something and leaving the empty container behind, more than the thought of Raisin Bran covered in mayo and topped with oysters. It’s the part about not being listened to. About someone not taking the time to figure out where I’m coming from. It’s about the connection between me and another human being breaking even for a second, a connection that I at times value more than my own bones. It’s an emotional fuck you that makes me five years old again, banging on my parents’ bedroom door only to be met with silence. Please open up. That’s not what I meant. Why. won’t. you. listen.

My nuclear foursome has never understood why I have a penchant for raising my voice to that end. In any argument, I’ll be the one thrashing about in an attempt to get a point across, given that neither rational thought nor courtesy prevails in their home. When I was little, they’d attribute these explosions to an excess of Red Dye #6, a wheat allergy, or the preferred and likely explanation of me just being a huge pain in the ass. For as many years, my family has thought my head explosions had been about me being heard, about regurgitating the words just spoken as evidence of their higher order processing. Surely being able to say what the Princess just said and in the tone in which Princess said it means we’re simpatico! It never did. It still doesn’t. After all, the mimes and the chimps and even Flipper can mimic. The conversion of these recited words was never quite right, either, as if no literal translations exist in Familyspeak. Yes, Princess. I get it. You need a lot of attention. Really? That’s what you took from me asking if we could turn off the television when I visit so we can spend more time talking to each other? Cue flailing arms, fourth-grade tantrum, me shrieking like a cat in the bathtub while my undisturbed mother drinks a mint julep and pats her brow. It ends with her raised palm – stop – and some form of me begging. You are missing the point. It’s me. I need you to listen.

Friends and lovers do this too, although given that most of my cronies and bedmates weren’t born in the ‘40s and therefore missed reading Ms. Passive Aggressive Manners, misinterpretations grow into much stronger fuck you. The initial miscommunication and resulting misunderstandings are much less civil than with family, what with the EXCESSIVE USE OF CAPITALS – which really should be reserved for cat and child custody disputes, don’t you think? – and the F bombs and complete and utter absence of e-tone. All of us can throw emotional grenades safely from behind our electronic devices, including the phone, doing little to help already compromised communication. Before you know it, your in box is a Jackson Pollack full of RE:s. Neither of you stopped to ask what that turn of phrase meant, to clarify a response that made the stomach drop. The outcome changes little.
 

Screw you.

I get it already.

I thought I knew you better than this.

It’s both an exercise in experience and frustration. Yes, I knew better but I thought you knew me better, too. I find myself banging on the door again, although this time it’s usually by hated cell phone or email. It’s trying to get someone to face me without being allowed to touch them. Please open up. That’s not what I meant. Why. won’t. you. listen.

My mind automatically interprets the underlying message. I must not mean enough if they won’t take the time to figure out what I’m trying to say. As a little one, there’s not much else to think. We know love, but we can’t make sense of people giving and pulling it away simply because of trappings and judgments. It’s never being given the benefit of the doubt simply because you are a known and loved entity. And I know her better. Kids screw up, but aren’t their intentions relatively pure until they steal your Escalade and plow it into a snow bank while snorting coke off the dash?

In adulthood, the identical message simply shifts sender. Responses are still reactionary, irrational, built on neuronal firing rather than a shared history and experience. And it gets me every time, this baggage, sucking me into a whirlpool of self-doubt. You know me. And if you aren’t understanding me, you aren’t listening. If you cared, you’d take the time to figure this out. In a head that can’t make sense of the shift, the blame resides entirely with me. I’m unable to differentiate things I’d do differently from the pain of not being understood. Screw their bullshit, how their past friendships or shitty day color our interaction. I’m falling short.

WHY. WON’T. YOU. LISTEN.

And suddenly I’m a fourth grader again, one who’s more glad than ever that the Internet doesn’t allow you a glimpse of all that flailing…..

Sunday Scribblings.....Smokin In The Boys Room

Day 1, morning 1 + 10 minutes.  

The McDonald's clerk beckons for number 175. Number 175, please come pick up your order. Number 175 . . . Bueller? Bueller? The dime hag approaches the clerk, saying, "I'm 175. But did you say 135?" Now, if the clerk had said 135, are you really willing to wait for 40 people to pick their McMuffin up before you get to? The assholes don't deserve to eat…..I think I'm edgy.

Day 2

I share with friends that I'm on the quest for health but worry about gaining more weight in the process. Dick emails me something along the lines of, "just because you don't have a cigarette in your mouth doesn't mean you have to shove a pizza in there," and I begin to fantasize about things I could shove in his trapper to head off further helpful commentary.

Day 3

I read someplace that it helps to think of yourself as a nonsmoker. I am a nonsmoker. I am a nonsmoker. That really felt good. I am a nonsmoker who would sell her eggs and her body for one cigarette, would agree to baby sit your litter and help your oldest build his baking soda volcano for just one precious lungful. I'd even take a dreaded generic.

Sometimes there is nothing like Marlboro country, whether you smoke or not! 

He Stopped Loving Her Today.......

Why do men die first?
This is a question that has gone unanswered for centuries, but, now we know. It requires a bit of explanation, first:
If you put a woman on a pedestal and try to protect her from the rat race ... you're a male chauvinist.
If you stay home and do the housework ... you're a pansy.
If you work too hard ... there's never any time for her.
If you don't work enough ... you're a good-for-nothing bum.
If she has a boring repetitive job with low pay ... this is exploitation.
If you have a boring repetitive job with low pay ... you should get off your lazy behind and find something better.
If you get a promotion ahead of her ... that is favoritism.
If she gets a job ahead of you ... its equal opportunity.
If you mention how nice she looks ... its sexual harassment.
If you keep quiet ... its male indifference.
If you cry ... you're a wimp.
If you don't ... you're an insensitive bastard.
If you make a decision without consulting her ... you're a chauvinist.
If she makes a decision without consulting you, she's a liberated woman.
If you ask her to do something she doesn't enjoy ... that's domination.
If she asks you ... it's a favor.
If you appreciate the female form and frilly underwear ... you're a pervert. If you don't ... you're gay.
If you like a woman to shave her legs and keep in shape ... you're sexist.
If you don't ... you're unromantic.
If you try to keep yourself in shape ... you're vain.
If you don't ... you're a slob.
If you buy her flowers ... you're after something.
If you don't ... you're not thoughtful.
If you're proud of your achievements ... you're full of yourself.
If you don't ... you're not ambitious.
If she has a headache ... she's tired.
If you have a headache ... you don't love her anymore.
If you want it too often ... you're oversexed.
If you don't ... there must be someone else.
Why do men die first?
Because they want to......ROTFLMAO!

Monday Mumblings......

She had a good eye - or that's what they say,
and she picked him from quite a long distance away
running proud and alone, apart from the herd.
Yes, he was a fine one, I give you my word.

She knew above all that he had a good heart,
and he seemed to take to her right from the start.
He was eager to please, honest and kind,
but he made it quite clear that he had his own mind.

She made no demands that he couldn't meet.
Her hands were gentle; her voice was sweet.
Day in and day out in the heat and the dust,
she did all she could to earn his trust.




Sometimes it seemed they were right on the verge
of two rebel souls beginning to merge,
but just when she felt he was coming around,
he'd spit the bit and head for high ground.

Then all she could do was pitch him some rein
and start the whole process all over again.
Not once did she show him abuse or neglect;
she chose to back off out of love and respect.

It was best to turn loose, let things run their full course.
She was certain that she could gain nothing by force.
But as the days passed, she cared more and more,
because he was genuine right to the core.

In her dreams he came openly seeking her touch
with the trust and the love that she craved so much.
She caressed him and held him and gave him her heart
without taking the freedom he'd prized from the start.

And together they had the strength and the will
to ford every stream and climb every hill.
They could spin and roll back and stop on a dime,
and they scored close to perfect every time.

Then she awoke as the bright sun peeked through,
and she knew that he stood somewhere watching it too.
Peculiar to some, strange though it may seem,
she was grateful to him for the gift of a dream.

Sunday Scribblings: Much Too Young, To Feel This Damn Old.....

I'll never be a rancher's wife; it's a life I'll never know
But, it has been a dream of mine, since oh so long ago.
I always figured I meet someone, somewhere along the way
While I was learning' to make a hand, ridin' horses for my pay.

I wasn't expectin no fireworks, no knight in shinin armor to sweep me off my feet
Just someone honest, polite and kind, was the type I wanted to meet.
Oh, I figured he'd be a little ornery, with a twinkle in his eye.
But if we ever said 'I do.' We'd 'Do' till the day we died.

Now I was workin on all the attributes I thought a rancher's wife should possess.
Startin colts, building fence and lookin good in high heels and a dress
Stretchin pennies into dollars, getting up early to do the chores
And when there was an extra mouth to feed, makin room at the table for just one more

Playin midwife to mares and heifers, doctorin colts and calves.
And thankin God at the end of the day for all the things I have
Like the majestic beauty of sunrises in the morning, and the clean, crisp smell and feel of fall
The wonder of life in a newborn calf and miles of wide-open prairie spaces were some of my favorite things of all.

But then I turned 37 and decided no one was coming down the ranch's mile long drive a looking for a wife.
So I live in town, have a job - now I breathe the smog and put up with the constant strife
Of houses settin too close together, and apartment livin is even worse
With walls so thin between you that you hear your neighbor's curse

Now my days are filled with drivin in rush hour traffic, fightin crowds and honkin horns.
Workin in small confining space, sometimes gazing out the window lookin wistful and forlorn

Cause, I still think about the way my life use to be and what it has now become
Remembering what I left behind and the dreams I dreamt when I was young.
Dreams of cattle grazin on a hillside on a place we would call home
And all the puppies, ponies and pickups that we would surely own

I guess everything in life is a trade off, cause I'm finally able to put money in the bank.
But since I stopped workin the ranch I've gained 50 pounds and there is a noticeable swellin through my flanks.

I still use my black iron skillets and cook enough to feed a brandin crew
But I sometime get to wonderin, would I have takin a chance if I'd only knew, how much pain that cowboy's caused since he said we're thru

How much of my heart I'd leave in pieces scattered out upon the Oklahoma plains,
in the yelp of the coyote, or that it would cause me so much pain
to watch the sun come up between tall buildings instead of from some horse's back
and as the years now stretch before me it becomes more and more a fact - that I'll never be a rancher's wife it's a life I'll never know.

Cowgirls Don't Cry......

Why a daughter needs a Daddy........

to learn that when he says it will be okay soon, it will.

to make sacrifices so she will not have to sacrifice.

to always have time to give her hugs and kisses.

to be the one who does not mind when she steps on his shoes while dancing

to be the one who will make sure she has a place to come home to, always.

to be the one who will never think she is too old to need him.

to teach her to believe that she deserves to be treated well.

to teach her to weigh the consequences of her actions and make decisions accordingly.

to protect her, sometimes from herself.

to answer the questions that keep her awake at night.

to know what it is like to be somebody's favorite.

to make the complex simple and the painful bearable.

to tell her all is not hopeless, even when she feels it is.

to join her journey when she is too afraid to walk alone.

to teach her the meaning of integrity, and how to avoid the crooked path.

to tell her truthfully that she is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

to teach her that family is more important than work but that it is work that makes family life easier.

to show her how it feels to be loved unselfishly and unconditionally.

to be the standard against which she will judge all men.

to teach her the difference between being firm and being stubborn

to teach her that she is equal to her husband.

to teach her that respect is to be earned, as he has earned hers.

to help her learn what she should expect from her husband.

to teach her how to be responsible for others.

to teach her to preserve her dignity during difficult times.

to help her believe in herself as a parent, and that in discipline there is hope.

to be the one who will influence her life even when he isn't with her.

to live in a way so that she will have at least one hero who will not let her down.

to tuck her in at night.

to protect her when she is not wise enough to protect herself.

to teach her to be honest in all her dealings.

to teach her patience and kindness.

to teach her when to be firm and when to compromise.

to help her try again whenever she fails.

to help her take the risks that will build her confidence.

to prepare her to persevere through hardship.

to be the man who will let her know that while she may not be the center of someone elses world, she is the center of his.

to give her the guidance she needs as she begins to resolve her own troubles.

to pull her back when she is headed in the wrong direction.

to think highly of her when no one else will.

to hold her as she cries.

to be the history of her family for her own children.

to teach her what it means to always be there.

to teach her that a man's strength is not the force of his hand or his voice, but the kindness of his heart.

to teach her to recognize the truth and reward it.

to teach her to recognize sincerity and encourage it.

to teach her about fairness.

to teach her to stand up for herself.

to remind her of what she may not remember.

to give her gentle pushes that help her grow.

to remind her that when no one else is there for her, she can close her eyes and see him.

to carry her just because she wants to be carried.

to share with her the wisdom she has not yet acquired.

to calm her when she is stressed by challenges.

to be the man who teaches her she is important by stopping what he is doing to watch her.

to give her a strong, willful character.

to build a loving house on a foundation of wisdom and understanding

to help around the house so that one day she will have pride in her own home and the way it is kept.

to teach her that her role in a family is greater that the work she does, yet the work she does is what helps makes her family prosper.

to help her become the best mother she can be.

to teach her how things work.

to show her how to fix things for herself.

to indulge her passion, with the things she loves most. (Monday Mornings!)

to teach her the importance of being a lady.

to be the man who gives her refuge in a home secured with faith.

to teach her that ignorance is not an excuse for anything.

to teach her not to let pride get in the way of discovering new things.

to teach her to experiment for the sake of testing her own assumptions.

to show her how proud he is of the woman she has become.

to put those she loves and their needs before her own, as it brings joy.

to teach her how to focus her mind in the midst of distraction.

to teach her the joy of serving others.

to show her that true love is unconditional.

to tell her all she needs to know about boys.

to show her that all men are not like the one who hurt her.

to teach her how to recognize a gentleman.

to show her that she deserves a man who would lay down his life for her.

to teach her to recognize that a real man would never ask her to give up something she loves.

to teach her how a man should be encouraged to reach for his dreams.

to show her how to walk beside her husband, as the Lord expects.

to remind her that her husband deserves to be admired and respected.

to show her that loving her family is a priority.

to teach her that a joyful heart is filled with peace.

to teach her when to be cautious.

to teach her that God must be the center of her life.

to show her the power of prayer.

to understand the importance of marrying your best friend.

to stand with her on the day she marries the man, she hopes will be just like her father.

to help her raise her children with strong family and biblical values.

to help her find her way in life.

to show her the benefits of hard work.

to help her recognize that if she does something she loves, it's not work.

to teach her to spend responsibly, to save for a rainy day, and to give with a generous heart.

to help her finish her work when she is too weary to finish it herself.

to be the man who lives with integrity, so she learns that men can be trustworthy.

to teach her to be content with her own company and to appreciate the time she spends alone.

to be a an example in his marriage, so she learns that a godly woman not only submits to God but to her husband as well.

to show her how a man so treat a woman, because without that example, she will have less in her life than she deserves.

to know he would never criticize the one she loves.

to know that once he is gone, she will always remember the things he has taught her.

to always remember that she was one of the best things in his life!

Although in my heart I know, that the man I call Daddy really died last year, when he was diagnosed with small cell lung cancer. I say this because he has no quality of life, as he has spent multiple days every week in the doctors office, fighting the good fight. He has nothing left in his life that he loves except his family. It is hard to watch him be so angry and continue to fight when he is in so much pain. Thank You for being the man God sent you here to be and know that your daughter learned your life lessons well. Thank you for teaching me that life doesn't have to be ordinary. Thank you for sharing your Monday mornings with me and taking me all over the world to indulge my passion of riding horses. Thank you for teaching me how blessed I am to have had such a wonderful life, even though I have suffered hardships I would never wish on anyone. Thank you for teaching what love is and has the power to do. God Bless You and keep you. Know I love you with all that I am.

Rest In Peace

Charles Thomas Autry

May23, 1940-August 12, 2010

Forever Your Daughter....

Astro, The Redneck Princess

Thursday Thirteen: Daddy's Hands....Adult Content!

Today's Thursday 13 courtesy of Sh*t My Dad Says:

*"No one gives a shit about all the things your cell phone does. You didn't invent it, you just bought it. Anybody can do that."

*"Sometimes life leaves a hundred dollar bill on your dresser, and you don't realize until later that it's because it f*cked you."

*"The punk will talk when he talks, relax. It ain't like he knows the cure for cancer and he just ain't spitting it out."

*As told to the oldest punk, "That woman was sexy...Out of your league? Son. Let women figure out why they won't screw you, don't do it for them."

*As said to the lil punk, "I'm sorry if your brother doesn't want you to play with his sh*t, then you can't play with it. It's his sh*t. If he wants to be an asshole and not share, that's his right. You always have the right to be an asshole- you just shouldn't use that right very often."

*"Snausages? I've been eating dog treats? Why the f*ck would you put them on the counter next to real food? F*ck it, they're delicious. I will not be shamed by this!"

*"Don’t focus on the one guy who hates you. You don’t go to the park and set your picnic down next to the only pile of dog sh*t."

*"They're offended? F*ck, sh*t, asshole, sh*tf*ck; they're just words...Fine. Sh*tf*ck isn't a word, but you get my point."

*Said to my brother, "Stop trying so hard. He doesn't like you. Jesus, don't kiss an ass if it's in the process of shitting on you."

*"Waking up when you got a baby, you feel like you drank a bottle of whiskey the night before, except the sh*t's in someone else's pants."

*"HIDDEN roaming charges? Jesus, Sprint has 'f*cking people' down to a science, like they practice it in a fucking lab on mice first."

*"A parent's only as good as their dumbest kid. If one wins a Nobel Prize but the other gets robbed by a hooker, you failed."

*"There's a word for people like that...No, I'm saying, there's a word and I don't know what it is. I'm not being f*cking poetic."

And a bonus this was said to me, upon finding out I was pregnant with the oldest punk, "It's never the right time to have kids, but it's always the right time for screwing. God's not a dumbsh*t. He knows how it works."

Wordless Wednesday

Who Let The Dog's Out........

You aren't looking for them but I found your dogs. Sigh. Obviously, no one is looking for these guys. And I see why. They hump everything in sight, try to dominate our old doggies, try to eat our cats and pee on everything and bark at everything. Neurotic, lick constantly. They know no commands, either in English or Spanish. They are aggressive and probably lived in a puppy mill. You dumped them, probably, and we picked them up before they were killed by traffic. Unneutered, no tags, under 1 year old small males. I hate you, person who dumped these dogs. There are no lost ads on phone poles, no lost ad on Craig's list, no lost ad in the paper. We put signs up all over, put a found notice in at the local pounds and if you were looking for these filthy little ragamuffins, you would have found them. We are afraid to take them to the pound because under stress, your dogs were snappy and horribly afraid and dogs are judged by temperament for adoption placement. They would not have passed that test. However.....

They are, under their filth, mats and horrible habits, adorable. They have learned "Quiet," "Come," "Sit." They have stopped being so neurotic and we have broken most of their bad habits in just a few days. They are smart and sweet and are looking for guidance and WANT to be good little dogs. One is a purebred little white and buff guy with an under bite, the other is a brown little dog that looks almost exactly like a miniature version of a larger breed dog. They know each other and were obviously (by the same bad habits) raised (poorly) together. We will get them neutered, train them and get them into a good, loving home with people who use the brains God gave them.

If these are your dogs, come on by, I'd like to kick your ass.

Figured You Out......

I'm talking to you. I know you don't know me, but I know you.

I want you to leave her alone, to stop this mess you've lured her into. To stop dangling the carrot in front of her face knowing full well that you aren't enough for this woman, knowing full well that you keeping her at arm's length only draws her in closer. I want you to man up and tell her to move on, tell her you'll never deliver, because you won't. Sunday crosswords and hands held tightly at the market and wine over dinner with friends – it isn't in the cards. She will never meet your parents or be your date for the wedding you've talked about for the year, a picture of celebration and friendship you've painted repeatedly, although never with her in it. She will never see the Paris with you and your favorite couple. You will never agree to hit the favorite haunts in her hometown.

And you know it.

You've known it since the beginning, since well before any synonym for commitment ever entered the conversation. You've known it since you hesitated the first and the tenth time to introduce her to your friends, since you turned down the first of many invitations to meet up with her girls at their bar. The excuses are lazy ones and the truth even lazier.

You've known it since you first saw her face flush when you gave her hope of something more.

Tell her you're back together with an ex, that you never loved her. Tell her the truth: that you're a ridiculous coward who doesn't care enough about her to let her live her own life.

She deserves better than you, and I only wish she knew it. I wish I could fast forward to the day when she'll have him, the one who won't want to make a vacation plan without her in it, who will think to bring her to meet his friends within a matter of days. He'll be without her and wish she was picking up her cell so he could share a silly observation. He'll be in awe of her and on some days stare at her when she isn't looking. He'll know that sex isn't always about the orgasm and he'll check on her when she's sick. Oh yes, they'll fight and there will be weeks when she won't remember what she saw in him to begin with, but he'll love her deeply and treat her with the respect and adoration she deserves. And there will be Sunday crosswords and knowing how she takes her coffee and the occasional envy of her friends.

And you know that part too.