Dream

Yesterday I walked up to JC's house to watch the Sunday afternoon football games.

As I got comfortable on the couch and took a sip of wine, JC said: “I've got to tell you about the dream I had last night. I don't know what it means, but it sure was weird! I was right in the middle of disarming a nuclear weapon, there was security all around the area, and all of a sudden you came strolling up and casually asked, 'You wanna go see a movie?'”

At least I didn't sneak up behind him and pop a paper bag like the guy in the picture.

Night Visitor

When Squeak, our Papillon and little troublemaker, was a puppy, I let her sleep on top of my bed. In the winter months the unheated back bedroom gets pretty chilly, so she soon learned how to squirm under the covers, between the flannel sheets and snuggle up against my back.
Then when summer arrived and the house warmed up at night, she began sleeping in the living room with Taz, her Lhasa Apso-Pomeranian cohort, or on top of Carol's bed. She usually would join Taz when he comes in to wake me up at four o'clock every morning. It looked like she was finally growing up.
Now that cold nights have returned and Carol has put the flannel sheets back on , around midnight Squeak comes in and jumps up on the bed. I reach out to pet her and pat a spot where she obediently curls up and lies down, but when I wake up again she's under the covers, sometimes with her head on the pillow right beside me.
I've been accused of spoiling our dogs and I guess that's true, but somehow I just haven't had the heart to deny them their comfort...Until this morning, when a tickling on my head made me look in my bedroom mirror. There in the reflection of my thinning hair was a big, fat flea scrambling for cover. He was having a hard time finding a place to hide, and I caught him between my thumb and forefinger as he raced around. I squashed as hard as I could for a good half a minute but when I opened my fingers to hopefully see his smashed carcass, he made a mighty leap and disappeared down into the carpet.
Tonight my bedroom is off limits to all puppy dogs.
And I mean it.
I'm serious, now.

The Bad and the Good

Lately it's been hard to find anything lighthearted to write about, with Brad in the hospital for almost three weeks and Don in and out of the emergency room for similar stomach problems.

On the bright side JC seems to be feeling surprisingly well, and we have David coming home from Afghanistan in time for the holidays. If all goes as planned he should be back in the states sometime next month for debriefing and then home for a well deserved vacation with his wife and son.

Bucket List Road Trip

The "3,000 Mile, Bucket List Road trip" has been added to, and moved to a website:
http://bobert54.webs.com/

Little Things

Yesterday as Carol and I were walking into Walmart, I noticed that she had a couple of clothing tags sticking up at the back of her neck. I said,” Hold it a minute Hon,” and proceeded to try and tuck them in. “Darn it,” she said, “ I can never see if those things are sticking out or not!”

A woman walking by, leaned toward us and said, “The secret is having someone who loves you enough to do it for you!” I never got a good look at her, but I was struck by what she said. I seem to remember an old 1950's song with the line, “Little things mean a lot!”

They do!

Magic Moment

The other day our son Don and his wonderful, rowdy family dropped in for a visit. As usual in that branch of the family everyone was happily jabbering at the same time, and to my dismay the Parkinson tremors started in both of my hands. Even though I'd taken my dopamine tablets my tremors got worse and I clasped my hands together trying to control them.

Shelby, Don and Diana's seven year old daughter was playing with our dog Squeak when she saw my shaking hands. She walked over to me and gently laid her hand on top of mine.

The tremors stopped.

She looked up at me and smiled, then went back to playing with Squeak.

It seems that a grand daughter's touch can easily outdo modern medicine.

Puppy Love At First Sight

The newspaper ad read, Puppies for sale, Pomeranian – Lhasa Apso mix.

We drove the 16 miles to Newport and found the address at the top of a steep set of stairs, with very little room for us to park our pickup.

A nice lady answered the door and let us in, we introduced ourselves and told her that we'd like to see the puppies in the ad. After a few more pleasantries she asked her husband to “let them out.”

He crossed the room, opened a door and stood back.

All of a sudden a dozen or so (it was impossible to count them) yipping, yapping little balls of fur came running, slipping, jumping, peeing and sliding across the living room's hardwood floor. They were so excited and full of fun that Carol and I got down on our knees with them and got our faces and hands licked for the effort. It was a pandemonium of cuteness.

One puppy caught my attention; he was a mixture of colors, with two tufts of white hair that stood up between his ears like devil horns and a mischievous glint in his eyes.

I turned to Carol and asked her which one she liked the best. “That one!” she said, pointing at the devil dog.

“Me too!” I said.

“Well, that was fast!” the lady exclaimed, “I call him 'Diablo', and he's my favorite!”

“I can see why!” I said.

I wrote out a check, the lady gave us our new puppy's shot records and papers and said goodbye to her favorite, with tears running down her face.

On the way home we talked about a name for our new family member.

“'Diablo' is fitting, but maybe we can find a better name for him.” Carol said, as the puppy cuddled in her lap.

The next few days we tried and rejected a host of different names, as the puppy entertained us and terrorized our Lhasa Apso, Chewy. Chewy was old and almost blind, and he showed an amazing amount of patience as the new addition yipped and nipped at him, trying to get the old guy to play.

We thought “Hoppy”,and “Khan” cute names, but not quite right, “Beelzebub” was too long, “Devil” was too evil, and then Carol remembered the nickname we'd given our grandson Austin when he was going through the “terrible twos.” “Why don't we call him “Taz,” Carol said, “He's a real Tasmanian devil for sure, and Austin has outgrown the name, anyway.

Now Taz has grown up and has to put up with his own upstart puppy. I guess turnabout is fair play.

Granny Two Dogs

It's nice to have both a lap and a neck warmer on a chilly morning.

The Fighting Clelands

Boxing News

Roberto “The Tremor” Cleland is now fighting in a new weight class. He has gone from 152 pounds down to 136 and he hopes to defeat Jersey Joe Parkinson, the challenger, in a fight promoted by Cheap Box Wine productions.

Roberto's trainer, Giuseppe Franzia says that his fighter is working hard to perfect his famous “Tremor Jab” which along with his “Roberto Shuffle” confuses his opponent long enough for Roberto to land his slow motion “Sleeper” punch.

In related boxing news, Roberto's brother, JC “The Radioactive Kid” Cleland has also made a dramatic weight change and has dropped from the heavyweight division to fight as a featherweight. He hopes to hold titles in both weight classes and he feels confident that his opponent, Smokin' Joe Cancer can be beaten. In JC's corner is Sal Franzia, another one of the famous Franzia family of fight trainers. “The Radioactive Kid” is known for his powerful “Atomic Belch” which has been the downfall of many opponents.

Low Tide

A few days ago JC and I decided to get off of our butts and go for a beach walk. There was a minus tide that day and all kinds of tide pool life was exposed on the lava rocks which are usually submerged.
JC took a lot of pictures of the Green and Pink Anemones, Mussels, Goose neck barnacles, sponges, Sea Stars and myriads of other creatures. There was an unusually warm wind blowing and we walked a couple of miles enjoying the scenery and the super fresh air that you only can get on the beach.
We both were sore the next morning but we promised each other we will do it more often.