I'm Back But I'm Not Here

I have started blogging again … needed a break but took way too long of a break … and now I'm writing and creating again.

You can find my blog at www.swellthoughts.com

My website at www.swellgals.com

Hope to see you there.

Post-Thanksgiving Greetings

I'm still alive. Very busy earning an A. Hope to make that an A+ soon.

I am sorry I've been away but I'm working on a big project that I plan to launch around the first of the year. Keep tune.

Hope you had a great Thanksgiving. Daisy and I are having a fun first holiday season together. She has really settled in and follows me every where I go ... fortunately for her I don't move around too much, especially after work. These past few days she is getting her work out as I bring things out and put them up for Christmas. She finally gave up and just hopped up on the chair and laid there staring at me. I have drastically reduced my Christmas decorating this year. I love the decorations when they are up but I hate 1) putting them up 2) packing away stuff so I have room to put them up 3) taking it down and 4) unpacking all the stuff I put away to make room. So it's a minimalist Christmas this year -- well minimalist for me.

I will try to be better at posting ... if not I guess it's back to the stockades for me!!!!

Dusting, Mopping & Brooms Oh My

Well I have my hat for the winter. And it is winter isn't it? Yesterday I waited half an hour for my bus. I was so happy when it arrived I almost kissed the driver.

I don't think Daisy is too fond of cold weather. When we go out she is constantly shaking herself. I may have to buy a coat or sweater for her. She's so tiny and thin that there is no body fat on her. She is truly a skinny little bitch

This past weekend some sort of virus got into me and I found myself cleaning -- no real cleaning. I actually mopped my floors. I know hardwood floors are the in thing to have but if it ever have the money I would replace them with carpeting or I'm going to buy room rugs or Italian marble floors -- yes that's what I will get and then some statues with water coming out of their mouth or other orifices. Actually I could just keep my floors and hire someone to come in and clean. That is my idea of luxury, to have someone come in once a month and clean and bake and cook and give me a mani/pedi. Oh dear, I've watched way too much television.

Next week we get a long weekend. In case you didn't know I will be doing stand-up for the first time in probably 10 years (if you don't count my Fringe shows) on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Here is the information:

Well off to the salt mines.

Sunny Day

Well the sun has come out ... both outside and inside. After months and months and months of feeling in limbo about money problems they have finally all been resolved. None of them are exactly what I was hoping for but they are resolved. It's amazing how just knowing where I stand makes me feel better -- even if I'm not standing where I want to. As the great philosophers (the Rolling Stones) said you can't always get what you want but you get what you need.

So now I can move on and make decisions based on fact not maybes. How nice.

And the sun is shining outside and it will be a heatwave in the 50s this weekend. I'm going to have to dig into my cedar chest and find my tankini so I can head to the beach.

Last night I was watching television (such an unusual evening for me -- yeah right) and this commercial came on that started with a scene from the ocean and I thought it was going to be some political ad when it dawned on me THERE ARE NO POLITICAL ADS and I was led to rise from my couch and do a short, but lovely, happy dance. NO POLITICAL ADS, NO POLITICAL ADS. It just brought out the hokey pokey in my heart.

I am amazed, or maybe not so amazed, by the anger over the results. I remember in 1980 when Reagan won my friend's husband (now ex-husband) made a gigantic sign and put it on his lawn saying "What Have You Done America?" That was about as angry as people got -- at least that I recall. And we all lived through 8 years of Reagan and his minion George H.W. It's part of being in a democracy -- you can't always get what you want and sometimes you don't get what you need either.

So today is a good day -- and I'm hoping for many good days to come and I'm still hoping for a pony for my birthday because that's the kind of gal I am.

I'm Home; I'm Home

Be it ever so humble and rather messy there's no place like home. I was in San Jose (yes I know the way) for the weekend and got home last night around 7:30. I was frisked at airport security ... well my ankles were frisked which was really odd. I have no idea what the x-ray showed that would cause someone to pat down my ankles but it was strange to say the least. My friend Geri has to be frisked all the time because of her knee replacement. She always tells them they have to buy her dinner but they never laugh. She's playing to the wrong audience.

Tomorrow is Election Day. The madness is almost over or it may almost be starting. It's so close I'm afraid there will be another Bush/Gore fiasco. I can't take another Bush/Gore fiasco, especially when Bush ends up winning. But no matter what, the political commercials will end and the Christmas commercials will kick into full gear. Oh boy, I can hardly wait ...

Hell No We Won't Blow -- When Musicians Strike

 

The Twin Cities is in the midst of a strike by two orchestras, the Minnesota Orchestra and the St. Paul Chamber Orchestra. When I think of strikers I tend to think of burly, sweaty

construction workers, average-Joe civil servants or blue collar assembly workers. I have seen nurses on strike and teachers on strike but I have never seen classical musicians on strike. I have a feeling Jimmy Hoffa never equipped the unions to work with teamsters who really carry violins in their violin cases. Union leaders would be forced to adapt their traditional strike “methods” for this particular group.

There will be picket lines and picket signs. The traditional “LOCAL NO. SUCH-AND-SUCH ON STRIKE” seems so flat for groups as sharp as these. In fact, the dignity of these groups makes you think you’ll see signs like: “PLEASE GIVE US MORE MONEY. THANK YOU.” and “WE’D REALLY APPRECIATE A BETTER CONTRACT. HAVE A NICE DAY.”

But, as a creative artist and supporter of unions, I would like to suggest some signs that will show not only your devotion to music, but your commitment to a fair contract. Here are some ideas:

·      We’ll Beat No Drums For Management Scum

·      We Read Management Fortissimo

·      Kiss My Brass Section

·      You’re Killing Us A Poco A Poco

·      Management Plucks

·      Our Cymbals Won’t Crash Without More Cash

·      Impresario Unfair To Musicians

·      If Our Paycheck Has No More Do —You’ll Have No More Mi

·      The Bach Stops Here

·      If You Don’t Pay This Fella You’ll Be Singing A Cappella

·      Duet To Management Before They Duet To Us

Of course, picket line chants really make or break a strike. While not Gregorian chants or Wagner arias, here are some ideas that will get your point across and are not only fitting for this occasion, but they can be done in three-quarters time:

·      No more Bach — No more Ravel; Take your offer straight to Hell

·      Two Bits, Four Bits, Six Bits, A Dollar; If that’s all you’re paying you’ll hear no more Mahler

·      Hell No We Won’t Blow

·      What do we want? — BETTER PAY; When do we want it? — ALLEGRO

Brothers and sisters of the note, your solidarity in this strike effort will show management that just because you are refined musicians at the top of your craft, you can’t be pushed around. I believe your motto should be:

United we Crescendo, divided we Decrescendo.

Want to know a secret?

In a weak moment I volunteered to be on a committee for a conference that is this Thursday. It was an excellent learning experience for me and reminded me to NEVER NEVER EVER VOLUNTEER TO BE ON A COMMITTEE AGAIN.

I'm not a good committee person -- I mean I have great ideas and people go with other ideas -- what's wrong with them?!?! I think in most instances people are better off with a benevolent dictator telling them what to do than with a committee of people who are trying to "come to a consensus." Oh sure you try to do that in a democracy but look at where it's gotten us. Our current consensus government couldn't agree that the sky is blue, the grass is green, and women should never have to pay taxes.

So at our last meeting it was decided we would write a question on the name tag as an ice breaker. I suggested "where is the kinkiest  place you've had sex" but the consensus was to go with something else.  So instead we are answering "what is something about yourself that you've told anyone." Who the hell is going to tell a total stranger about something that they've never told their best friend, besides Catholics who go to confession and tell the truth?

So this leaves me with a world of possibilities for my answer to this question. Some possibilities are:

• I'm going to kill my family and eat them for Thanksgiving -- shhhh don't tell
• I am a man trapped in a woman's body and I can't help fondling her breasts
• I was sent here to save your soul
• I suffer from vaginal dryness
• My thighs are brought to you by Jell-O pudding
• I've never felt this attracted to a stranger before
• I like to shove Skittles up my nose and shoot them out at people

Oh the possibilities are endless. If you have any suggestions, let me know. Send them here.

George McGovern

I have a poster from the 1972 election of Senator McGovern. It is framed and hanging in my living room. Many years ago when he was in the Twin Cities on a book tour I brought my framed poster to meet him. We talked about that time and he signed the back of the poster. It is one of those objects that I would try to save if there was a fire.

I am so proud to say I had a car with a "Don't Blame Me I Voted For McGovern" sticker on it. And I'm prouder to say I had the chance to NOT vote for nixon.

He was a good man who spent his "retirement" years working to feed the hungry. I think he is one of the reasons I'm a bleeding heart liberal today. He was a man of peace who should now rest in peace.

I'm Still Around

I apologize to my faithful readers. I have been in a tailspin lately with personal issues.

I promise I'll be back. I just need to take care of some things that are overshadowing everything else.

The two thoughts that keep me going are:

1) it's only money; and
2) this too shall pass.

The third thought is against the law so I won't publish it to be used against me in a court of law (can you just hear the cha-ching of Law & Order in the background?).

I will tell you that I'm amazed at how I just do things I don't know if I would have done in the past. This morning on the bus there's this guy, probably in his early 20s, slouched down in his seat with his feet up on the side seats in front of him. That is annoying enough but he has his gym bag or whatever laying open in the center of the aisle. So I walk up, kick the bag under his seat and say "This isn't the frat house, sit up." Amazingly he did. Next time I'm going to pull his ear like one of the mom's on the block use to do if she wanted to get you to physically move. Once you've had your ear pulled you become much more cooperative with future requests.

So I'm okay. I know I'll come out of this fine one way or another. I appreciate the email asking where I am. It's nice to know I'm missed out here in cyper land.

They're Here..........

 Can you feel it? It's like fire ants crawling up your legs.

Can you smell it? It's like living down wind of the stockyards.

Yes the bastards of baseball, the demons of the diamond, assholes of the American league are in town.

Those damn yankees.

And I will be at the game tonight with my lucky shirt and my voodoo doll (thanks to my friend Jean). Unfortunately I will be in a suite with clients and I won't be able to use the words I want to use.

I haven't always hated the yankees. When I was a kid I loved Mickey Mantle, Whitey Ford, Roger Maris, Yogi Berra (smarter than the average coach). I would root for them in the World Series. Then the Darth Vadar of baseball game to town -- George Steinbrenner -- and ruined baseball forever.

Not that I have any strong feelings about the topic.

It's The Little Things

Beth, a friend of mine from high school -- well I should say an classmate from high school because we were never good friends at that time but, thanks to Facebook, we have become good friends as "adults"  -- lives in Tennessee. She knows my love for elephants and when she saw Trunklines, a publication from the Elephant Sanctuary, she picked up a copy and mailed it to me. When I opened my mailbox last night and found that it just made me so happy, not just to have the newsletter but to have someone somewhere thinking of me and taking an action that she felt would make me happy.

Another friend, Kay, who I actually met via this blog made me the nicest bookmarks with pictures of Freckles on them. She said they were simple and not a big deal, but every time I see that bookmark I am not just reminded of Freckles, I am reminded that someone cares for me.

It is nice to be reminded of this every once in a while. The trendy phrase was (is? I'm not really up with all the big trends of the day) PRACTICE RANDOM ACTS OF KINDNESS. I once wrote an piece for Minnesota Monthly on Minnesota random acts of kindness. So in case you are wondering what you can do to make someone's day a little better here are some ideas:

Minnesotans are uniquely qualified to perform spontaneous acts of kindness – those usually anonymous gestures that help make the world a better place for all of us:

•  Give a bucket of bait to a stranger.

•  Turn your teammates’ bowling balls fingers-up when they aren’t looking.

•  Send a letter to a local news anchor thanking him for being Your Friend – then ask if he’ll lend you a few dollars till payday.

•  Buy someone a gift for no reason at all – then remind her of it every day for the rest of her life.

•  Pick up the trash in your neighborhood – then find a neighborhood that has no trash and donate it to them.

•  The next time you’re at Ingebretsen Scandinavian Foods, buy a pound of lutefisk to be given anonymously to the next customer who comes in.

•  Send someone as anonymous greeting card.  Don’t do it more than once, though.  You may be treading on stalking laws.

•  The next time you drive through a road-construction area, smile and wave at the MNDOT workers – using all of your fingers this time.

•  Give a homemade craft project to a friend.  Be sure to look for it every time you visit and express disappointment when you don’t see it.

•  Stand on the corner of Eighth and Nicollet and toss your hat into the air until you’ve turned the world on with your smile.

•  Hum the “Beer Barrel Polka” all day at work to give your co-workers a real lift.

WiFi Blues

Good morning my little butterflies .... no idea where that came from. Here's a photo of me and Daisy (duh). She is definitely a mama's girl. When I'm at the computer she wants to sit on my lap.

We had a visitor to meet her, our friend Peter came over the other night. She is getting much better with new people. And Peter is very scary so I was surprised. The first time Peter came over after I got Freckles he sat in her spot on the couch and after he got up she walked right over and marked it. That didn't happen this time.

Had a weekend trying to get my WiFi to work. Took my computer to the Apple store "Genius" bar and they couldn't find anything wrong with it -- except the screen was embarrassingly dirty. The Genius cleaned it for me. I wonder if I could get a Genius from Microsoft to come over and clean my windows -- get it Microsoft / Windows -- oh I am funny on a Monday morning.

Speaking of funny may I suggest you watch the new show on NBC called Go On. The first two episodes are available On Demand (and I'm sure also on line). I think it is hysterical. Then watch The New Normal -- also funny. I found out that it has been banned in Salt Lake City so even if it wasn't funny I'd watch it just because it was banned in Salt Lake City. In high school I read Catcher In The Rye because I heard a bunch of parents complaining about it. I guess I'm wired that way. There are people who see a sign that says "WET PAINT" and just avoid touching the walls and then there are people who see a sign that says "WET PAINT" and absolutely have to touch it just to be sure. I am the latter (I used to be the walrus but now I am the latter). They are probably rerunning episodes of Donny & Marie during that time slot or perhaps an infomercial on magic underwear.

And, finally, HAPPY NEW YEAR. It is the Jewish New Year (Rosh Hashanah) and the 1/4 or 1/8 of me that is Jewish wants to acknowledge that. Fortunately, as with the traditional New Year in January, I feel no obligation to make any resolutions to be a better person -- like I could get any better than this!!!!

I Am Age Inappropriate

I found this skirt and fell in love with it. I showed it to a friend who asked me if I thought it was "age appropriate." I wanted to suggest she take the broomstick out of her behind because I think we should wear what makes us happy. With the possible exception of the Catholic school girl plaid jumper, I really question if there is such a thing as "age appropriate" clothing. Of course the plaid jumper could be fun in a good old fashioned game of the naughty school girl and the school crossing guard but I digress.

Growing up it seemed like everything I wore was either navy blue, forest green, or brown and if there was any design it was either a very small print or horizontal stripes because all of those wonderful choices were so slimming. Really until recently if you were larger and wanted to wear anything with a little pizazz you had to make it yourself. Lane Bryant rarely had anything that was age appropriate for a teenager.

So here's a warning -- I'll wear whatever I want and if you don't like it, well I'll send a school crossing guard over to hit you on the head with a stop sign.

Have a great, age inappropriate day.

Goodbye Summer????

 Well it's going to be 90 degrees today ... I guess summer is over huh? I have one day left to Labor Day Weekend because, well I do.

Here are two of my favorite pics from the weekend. I am a big Clint Eastwood fan and it hurt to watch him talking to an empty chair. Not because of the politics -- I don't care if he likes Romney -- but it was so sad to see him rambling on and on. Oh well. I have to say it does make me feel better about talking to myself -- from now on I'll just pretend I'm talking to Abraham Lincoln.

The second picture is the result of my cleaning out my sock drawer. These are all socks to which I have no match. I have kept 3 of them -- the rainbow stripe, pink plaid, and olive green -- for a while because I keep hoping the match will show up. But alas, I think they will forever be orphans.

Today Daisy and I head over to the Humane Society. I want to take her to the Wallflower Play Group for shy dogs but first she has to be evaluated. I have, in my warped head, a picture of her laying on a little couch telling her dreams. "Well I'm in a room filled with cans of dog food and no can opener," "I invented a belly rubbing machine so I can have my needs met on demand," or the one all dogs have "I was at obedience school when I realized I had never gone to class and couldn't answer any questions on the test -- and I wasn't naked." I hope she passes mustard (or at least passes ketchup).

Finally, if you haven't seen Hope Springs I highly recommend it. Meryl Streep, Tommy Lee Jones, and Steve Carell were all fantastic. Lots of laughs, a few tears, but more laughs. Go see it -- don't make me say it again.

State Fair Blue Ribbon Time

 Tomorrow is State Fair day at work. We get 1/2 a day off, a bus ticket, an admission ticket, and some $$$ to spend. This is one of my favorite days at work -- it's like when we had the Indoor Picnic in grade school. Sometime in February we didn't go home for lunch (we used to do that every day) -- we stayed and had a hot dog, potato chips, milk (which I didn't drink because I know it came from) and an Eskimo Pie. Then we'd go to the gym and watch a movie. It was one of the best day at school.

I can't wait to go to the Creative Arts Building and see the BLUE RIBBON winning three person chessboard that my nephew Brett made (as seen here). Did you see the BLUE RIBBON part? Not that I'm an overly proud aunt but BLUE RIBBON. I'm also looking forward to a snow cone and corn on the cob.

If you are wondering why we have a State Fair day at work ... it's all my fault. A number of years ago (probably 5 or 6) the MTC had a contest for companies that had a Metro Pass program. You wrote a composition why your company should get a free bus to the fair and you would get the bus and admission tickets. Well, I wrote the winning poem:

WHAT? A half day at the state fair,

Away from the computer glare?

Stop all of our mousely clicks,

For something greasy on a stick?

Our cubicles to leave behind?

A vacation from the daily grind?

No more memos to discuss?

And we get our own big bus?

So what would we do if we win?

I’m not sure where to begin…

There’s Sweet Martha with her cookie jar,

Horticulture, arts, and international bizarre,

And heads of butter, oh how absurd,

Let’s not forget to get cheese curds.

You just can’t think about your job,

While eating sweet corn-on-the-cob

See horses, cows, chickens, and hogs,

We can’t forget a foot long dog.

Go to the booths and see some stars,

And get some deep fried candy bars,

Toss some balls; win a prize,

Eat a cup of hot French fries,

Head over to Machinery Hill,

Perhaps a ride at  Ye Olde Mill.

Forget about our budget cuts,

Have some more mini-donuts,

Let ‘em guess what we weigh,

As we head on down to the Midway.

Quilts and sweaters and fruit that’s canned,

Buy a Veg-O-Matic at the Fair’s Grandstand.

No worrying ‘bout a 401K

Unless, of course, it’s Senior Day.

A ride up on the old space tower,

Lots to do in just six hours,

Milk shakes, ice cream, lemonade,

All this fun and we still get paid.

I hope we’re the group that you pick,

‘Cause we need some fun … on a stick.

I'm like another Emily Dickenson or Robert Frost or Rod McKuen. 

Blue Ribbons, Goats and an Old Lady

In case you haven't see this photo -- the in thing with babies today is to take a picture of them in an outfit that says "1 month" "2 months" etc. so I thought for my birthday I'd follow the trend. 696 months is a lot of months.

I'm heading to the fair this week. Mostly to see my nephew Brett's BLUE RIBBON entry of a handmade 3-person chessboard. It is on display at the Creative Arts Building. I'm very proud of him. I'll post some pictures next time so you can see how cool it is.

Been using my CPAP machine lately. And NO it has nothing to do with a PAP test -- if it does I'm not using it correctly. It does really help me sleep better and I'm not so tired during the day. It still is a pain in the ass to use and I would rather not have it but it's better than sleeping with a goat -- which has nothing to do with sleep apnea but I have a feeling in some countries if you had sleep apnea they would tell you that sleeping with a goat would cure you.

Well on that goat note I think I'll bail. Have a happy happy Monday.

Fancy Nails and Daisy Update

I had my day (well actually 1/2 a day) of beauty on Saturday for my birthday. I went to the Spalon Montage in Edina where life is beautiful all the time. It is a very high class outfit and I'm not sure I fit right in but I'm not sure that matters.

The first stop was to have a facial. I've had one before, or I thought I had, but this was something else. You go into a room that has soft lighting and that music playing that I believe is suppose to make you feel tranquil but after about 10 minutes makes me feel like I want to take stab my eardrums with a bamboo shoot. But the massaging took away the edge. It was going so well until all of a sudden this bright light is shone on me (I had some kind of eye protectors on) and McKenzie began to remove blackheads and unclog pores -- OUCH!!! It felt like a razor going into my face. I didn't like that at all but I have to admit my face felt mah-vah-lous. Then back to massaging. By the time it was over I felt a bit like a wet noodle but I had no time for that. It was off to my hair cut.

Amber has been cutting my hair for quite a while now and she does such a great job. I was trying to convince her to give me a Mylie Cyrus look but I think she may have lost her license if she had done so.

After the hair cut it was pedi time. Mi (or My?) had her hands full with me. We discovered quickly that I was a big more ticklish than I thought. She had to keep telling me to relax my toes. I apparently have highly stressed out toes. But I love the whirlpool you get to put your feet in but the room has five stations that were all filled and I felt a bit like I was at the Jiffy Lube in stall 3. Mi also did my manicure -- the results you can see here.

When I checked out I told them not to tell me the total ... I didn't want to know. When I finally looked it was not as high as I expected so that was good. It was a fun to be pampered, if only for a few hours.

Daisy Report

Miss Daisy and I are having a great time together. She has really settled in here. She likes to run from the bed to the loveseat to the couch and back until she finally lands wherever I am. She does like to be in the same room as me -- aw sweet. She is a great walking dog too. We go for a nice walk three or four times a day. She doesn't stop as much as her big sister Freckles so we can get around the block rather quickly. The other day I was getting out of the shower and I heard some noise, when I peeked in the living room Miss Daisy was standing on top of the coffee table, looking proud as can be. I had left some of my Honey Nut Cheerios there and it was too much for her. Which is surprising because she doesn't like many treats and does eat a lot of food. You have to mix her kibble with soft food in order for her to eat it -- and even then she'll only eat what has soft food on it. The dog treats I would give to Freckles she has no interest in -- what a crazy dog. Her biggest interest is in getting her belly rubbed. Yesterday I learned she likes to have you put a blanket on her and let her figure her way out.

Wouldn't it be nice if all you really wanted out of life was some food now and then, a little water, a walk, and to have your belly rubbed. I do, however, feel like life has thrown a big blanket over me and I'm trying to find my way out. I hope when I do get out someone will give me a belly rub (or at least unplug my closed pores).

Olympic Fever Is Over

Yes, my favorite Olympic moment. 

Well the Olympics are over. I like watching them, but I wish I didn't have to watch so much beach volleyball. I heard that the toughest ticket to get was to beach volleyball. Guess I'm, once again, out of the loop on this one.

My favorite is diving. I look at how much they can do in a matter of seconds. They twist and turn and somersault and then go into the water in this straight line. I can't even eat an Oreo in the amount of time they do all of that. I will never get into the Oreo Olympics at this pace. I must keep practicing until I've perfected my skills -- no matter what the sacrifices are.

In other news, my boyfriend Randy Travis seems to have gotten in trouble. Arrested for drunk driving, found laying in the road next to his smashed up car. Oh and by the way, he was naked. Before he crashed his car he walked into the local convenience store, naked, and wanted cigarettes. After being arrested he threatened to kill the police. Randy, Randy, Randy -- who do you think you are, Keifer Sutherland? Yes, I blame myself. Randy knows that Keifer is my number one and he's just trying to show me that he can be a stupid alcoholic too. Boys, stop fighting over me before one of you really screws up and ends up going on tour with Charlie Sheen.

Burn Mary Burn

Do you remember this? Yes, they still make Noxzema but this is the old label. When I would get sunburned I would cover myself in Noxzema -- it was so cool (as in temperature not as in groovy) and felt so good on my burned skin. And it had a strong smell to it so you could tell I was coming into a room about 5 minutes before I got there and you knew I'd been there at least a half hour after I left. But it felt so cool.

Well I need my Noxzema. Yesterday I was out on a golf course for an event where I work (no I wasn't golfing) and even though I used sunscreen I am burned. Last night I was putting cold ice packs on my face and arms and chestal area. No redhead should be out in the sun for hours like that -- I believe we have an unnatural immunity to sunblock.

Now, once this stops burning it will start itching and I'll start peeling and it will not be pretty. Oh well, I'll still be beautiful even if I look like a walking onion.

Daisy Update: First, I changed her middle name from Lou to Doodle because I keep calling her Daisy Doodle. She is doing so well. She seems to be fine during the day in her crate and when I come home she is happy and does the quietest little sounds. No indoor potty problems. We go out three times a day and she likes to walk so I'm getting a lot of walking time in which is good for me too. She does move around quite a bit at night and wakes me up but I think I'll get use to that and start sleeping through it. One of the big differences between Daisy and her big sister Freckles is that Daisy will not lay in bed forever when I get up. When I'm up, she's up. So I have to pull on some clothes right away and head outside for our morning toilette. I don't wake up quickly so I'm kind of out there sleep walking but again, we'll get use to it. I'm taking her to see my vet on Saturday to have her microchipped and get a kennel cough vaccination. Then I can get her license and dog park permit. It will be interesting to see how she does in the dog park.

Well off to another day filled with unicorns, butterflies, and rainbows in a land we call denial, I mean work.

Daisy Is Here

 I'd like to introduce the beagle formerly known as Cuddles -- Miss Daisy Lou Hirsch. She is just a tiny little thing, especially compared to her sister Freckle Magoo Hirsch.

Daisy spent all of her life at a breeder facility. She wasn't in a "puppy mill" but she did live in a kennel and never had a family. She just kept delivering puppies until they didn't need her anymore. Poor little Daisy. Well she has retired at Camp Mary where she will be treated well.

A friend of mine, who shall remain nameless (Peter) doesn't like the name Daisy but I do. I like the flower daisy ever since I saw the movie "Harold and Maude" in the 1970s. If you've never seen it I highly recommend it as one of the best movies ever. There is a scene where Harold and Maude are talking about flowers:

Maude: I should like to change into a sunflower most of all. They're so tall and simple. What flower would you like to be?
Harold: I don't know. One of these, maybe.
Maude: Why do you say that?
Harold: Because they're all alike.
Maude: Oooh, but they're *not*. Look. See, some are smaller, some are fatter, some grow to the left, some to the right, some even have lost some petals. All *kinds* of observable differences. You see, Harold, I feel that much of the world's sorrow comes from people who are *this*,
[she points to a daisy]
Maude: yet allow themselves be treated as *that*.
[she gestures to a field of daisies]

And so let's all usher in the era of Daisy.