Friday, February 27, 2015

Don't let a Great Dane get bored.

This is what I came home to a couple days ago.  Bogie had gotten bored and figured out how to open the cupboard where I keep the garbage.  I watched the video and he spent about an hour playing in the garbage.

I didn't bother to scold him.  It was my fault for not putting closures on the door.  I bought them.  Just didn't attach them.

And besides, he was so pleased with himself.

This is just the kitchen and family room.  I found garbage in the backyard and upstairs as well.

Friday, February 6, 2015

Standing up straight has stirred up old insecurities.

I've been having painful shoulder problems.  Enough so that it is affecting my exercise routine.  So I finally went to the doctor.  Who sent me to a physical therapist.  

Who told me that I need to stand up straight.  

Learning to stand up straight after 40+ years of slouching is a painful proposition.  And it got me wondering why I started to slouch in the first place. 

Oh, yeah.  Breasts.  

I was the first to develop breasts in my 6th grade class.  That kind of attention was horrifying to a shy wallflower.  

So I started to slouch to hide them. 

And have continued to slouch.  I wanted to be respected for my intellect. In my mind that meant denying I have breasts.  

At my age, I don't particularly care what people think about my looks.  

Or thought I didn't care.  Until I looked at myself in the mirror as I was checking my posture.  

Breasts, boobs, whatever you want to call them.  Sticking out farther than I am comfortable with. 

A lot of the old insecurities came rushing back.  Fear that I would be cat-called again.  Dread that I wouldn't be looked in the eye.  That I would be considered a dumb bimbo.  

Which is stupid.  Because the people I work with, my friends, all know I am smart. 

I realized that the behavior of unknown "others" isn't my problem.  My fear and reaction is my problem.  And I can control that. 

And I need to stand up straight. 

So I am going to be a grown-up and stand up straight.  

Because I am not a 12-year-old wallflower any more.  

I'm a grown-up. 

Thursday, January 15, 2015

Joan Margaret Tully Smith - May 30, 1934 - January 10, 2015

My mother showed me that women could work outside the home, should be able to take care of themselves, do household repairs, upholstery, and lawn work. That reading a book was a good use of time. That changing careers at mid-life was possible. And that moving across the country wasn't scary.

She spent 30+ years as a psychiatrist nurse after spending nearly 20 years as a newspaper transcriptionist.  She kept busy with bowling, golfing, and poker with the girls.  She was an avid reader, a dog lover, an enthusiast of jigsaw puzzles.

She loved to travel and visited England, Greece, and Canada, vacationed in Mazatlán every May, and traveled frequently to Las Vegas.

She did things her own way.  She drank, smoked, and gambled and apologized for none of it.

She will be missed.

Friday, December 19, 2014

The Visa fraud check criteria needs to be tweaked.

Honestly, I'm glad Visa keeps an eye on purchases in case of fraud.  I do watch my accounts very closely.  In fact, early last year I discovered that I had been hijacked before Visa even noticed.

But not everyone is vigilant.  And I imagine that the holidays are a busy time for fraud. 

Still, I think that the algorithms that are used to detect fraud need to be fine-tuned.  Isn't the process supposed to detect purchases that are out of the ordinary for the particular user? 

Did I get a call when I bought a $150 gift card for massages?  No. 

Did I get a call when I spent $900 on a new mattress? No. 

I got a call when I donated on-line to charity. 

Seriously.  How many people steal a credit card to make donations to pet charities?

Not only that, but these are the same charities I donated to last year, and throughout the year.   And the year before. 

I wouldn't be annoyed if the mattress had triggered the call.  How often do I buy mattresses?  

Calling me based on a purchase I make 2 or 3 times a year seems flawed. 

Sunday, November 30, 2014

Bogie lit up Thanksgiving

I had a nice Thanksgiving.  Since there are only 4 of us - me, Mom, my sister and her boyfriend, we decided to take the lazy way out for Thanksgiving dinner.

Black Angus was open and had a wonderful smelling turkey dinner.  But I had steak.  A sublime filet mignon.  I mean, how can you go to a steak house and not have steak?   Besides, I have turkey often.  Steak, rarely.

Afterwards, Bogie and I went over to the hospital.  I figured anyone staying or working in the hospital on Thanksgiving could use a little cheering up.

Bogie wore a Christmas tie and was very popular.  Seven or eight people took pictures of him.  One nurse gave him a piece of turkey.

A nice day.  A day to be thankful for.  One of many days to be thankful for.

Saturday, November 15, 2014

This was really weird

Bogie and I were out walking the other afternoon.  It was a lovely day and I decided to walk farther and in a different direction. 
We walked along the main street by our subdivision.  There is a landscaped community area along the sidewalk that varies in width from 3 to 10 feet, artfully planted with bushes and trees. 

As we turned the corner, clear down at the other end of the long block, I saw a blue shirt.  I try to be aware of other people walking so I can pull Bogie off to the side and let them pass.  
He's very friendly, but not everyone wants to meet a 125-pound Great Dane.  Doubly so if they are walking a dog of their own. 
Then the shirt disappeared.  I shrugged and figured it was a kid playing in the landscaping.  Either he was closer to the end of the block wall than I realized or he hopped the wall.  
As we get to the middle of the block, I hear barking from behind a big bush that is next to a large tree. 
I think, "Oh, dear. Loose dog."  
I am getting a better grip on Bogie's leash, when I look up.  
It wasn't a dog. 
A bandanna-wearing, stringy-gray-haired, sunglasses-wearing man was grinning at us from behind the bush. 
Bogie looked at him.  Bogie looked at me.  We turned away and resumed walking. 
Apparently, the man had skulked along the wall, hidden by he landscaping until he found a hiding place. He looked like a homeless person, except he wasn't carrying any belongings.  
I kept looking over my shoulder to see where he went, but I never saw him leave his hiding place.  
Still, when we came back, there was no one anywhere along the block. 
Very odd. 

Friday, October 10, 2014

It's hard to understand other people's relationships

I got a call recently from a friend who was totally ticked off.  She went out to dinner with her live-in boyfriend and friends of his from out of state.

During the entire meal, he kept tapping her with his foot under the table because he didn't like what she was talking about.

This is after he told her exactly what to wear and how to look for his friends.

She claims she will never go out in public with him again. And she still loves him.


How can you love someone that belittles who you are and thinks that you are not good enough for his friends?

Okay, maybe I understand loving him.  I don't understand staying with him.  She deserves better.

I have another, former, friend who quit her job for very justifiable reasons.  Her husband decided that if she could quit, so could he.  Um, he wasn't the one being tortured by a micro-manager.  She got another job within 5 months.

The last time I talked to her, he still wasn't working after 5 years.  This is why she's a former friend.  She was too embarrassed to talk to me any longer.

If she had been happy with the situation, I would have said, Whatever happens between you two is your business.  But she was miserable and talking about getting her reward in the afterlife.

She won't leave him because she loves him.

When did love become the excuse to accept whatever bad behavior people wanted to foist on us?

If our significant others actually loved us, wouldn't they treat us better?

Don't we all deserve to be treated better?