Driving home late last night, I was searching my radio for some music that would keep me awake. It seems that most Sunday morning or late night shows feature Jazz. What is Jazz? I'm not talking about lite Jazz like sung by Etta James. I think the heavy Jazz is quasi-music developed by men - for men - so they don't have to dance. Most men I know would rather chew off their toes than get on the dance floor. "Honey, I'd love to dance with you, but as you know I don't have toes, so instead let's go to this great Jazz bar I found."
Jazz also eliminates sing-alongs unless you want to aimlessly purse and unpurse your lips at various rhythms of "ba-baba-ba-baba", which I must say I see men doing much more than women. Often the men are doing it while the woman is talking, but that's another story.
Speaking of rhythm, the little Jazz I've been forced to listen to seems to not have a beat. When I hear other music, I can at least keep the time by slapping my leg. With Jazz, I can start a regular leg beat but soon I'm way off from where the quasi-music went. All I hear is a loud white noise.
Once, when coerced to go to a Jazz club - with a guy - I asked him how you know when a song is over? And basically he said that when everyone finishes their solos, they stop playing. I'm sorry but some of those solos just sound like an orchestra tuning up. At least when I go to hear other music that I might not like, I can pretty much figure out when it is coming to an end - not so with Jazz. It seems to end just before I am ready to stand up and scream "I can't take it any more". Yet, I look over at my male friend and he is just lost in the music. I am at a loss as to why we have such totally different reactions to this music.
It makes me think that this "difference" plays a part in the problems with how men and women communicate. I know that this may sound like a stretch but consider this -if I think Jazz is white noise to me, then probably men think of women's voices as white noise to them. I'm just saying -
Friday, October 30, 2009
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Doggie Door Drama
Seymour likes to play stupid (or play me for stupid) - like "Oh, I don't know how to go out the doggie door. Please open the back door for me". He does this about 10 million times a day. He comes jingling over to me and either sits staring at me or crosses his back legs - I get the message! When I get up and walk the long way to the door and open it, I have to pretend I'm also going out or he won't leave the house. I take a few nonchalant steps outside, like I'm getting ready to relax on the one chair available - the broken anti-gravity chair.
Sometimes he falls for it and hurries out the door, while I hurry in the door and close it. When he is tricked like that, it's amazing that he can come in the doggie door with no problem. I am getting really strong legs (oh, yeah, I can feel the burn) thanks to the multiple sit-to-stand exercises I do during the day. I'll admit there are a few additional sit-to-stand-and walk to the frig exercises I also partake in - due to the extra hunger I feel after all of the exercise Seymour puts me through.
But come nightfall, Seymour completely changes his tactic. He starts out by pretending to sleep in the dining room, instead of beside me on the couch. Then, he leisurely stands up (glances my way, I expect), stretches and quietly heads for the doggie door like he's going out for his last cigarette. It took me a few times to realize what he was up to. He knew that a raccoon had taken up residence under my shed and it didn't come home until dark. He was aware that I would catch on and not let him go out, so he did it so smoothly that he was out the door - and under the shed before I realized he wasn't blissfully sleeping under the dining room table.
Sometimes I don't even know he is outside until I get a call from a neighbor saying "your lunatic dog has been barking for the past 30 minutes". Once he is under that shed, nose-to-nose with the raccoon, there is no way to get him out. I've tried turning the hose on them, shoving a rake under the shed, doing a Mexican hat dance inside the shed directly over them, whistling and even bringing out his favorite treat - bacon. Nothing stops him. I pray that he goes hoarse, but my prayers are never answered. I finally give up, go in the house, turn up my TV, and reconcile to myself that my dog will soon die at the little hands of a pissed-off raccoon.
Just when I start to wonder if the tightness in my chest means I should call 911 or mix myself a big boozy drink, Seymour casually walks back in through the doggie door and goes back to his blanket. No panting, no injuries, and no raccoon chasing him.
To Seymour, it's just another beautiful night in the neighborhood - it's time to lick those balls and go to sleep. He doesn't understand why I am heading to the liquor cabinet instead of bed.
Sometimes he falls for it and hurries out the door, while I hurry in the door and close it. When he is tricked like that, it's amazing that he can come in the doggie door with no problem. I am getting really strong legs (oh, yeah, I can feel the burn) thanks to the multiple sit-to-stand exercises I do during the day. I'll admit there are a few additional sit-to-stand-and walk to the frig exercises I also partake in - due to the extra hunger I feel after all of the exercise Seymour puts me through.
But come nightfall, Seymour completely changes his tactic. He starts out by pretending to sleep in the dining room, instead of beside me on the couch. Then, he leisurely stands up (glances my way, I expect), stretches and quietly heads for the doggie door like he's going out for his last cigarette. It took me a few times to realize what he was up to. He knew that a raccoon had taken up residence under my shed and it didn't come home until dark. He was aware that I would catch on and not let him go out, so he did it so smoothly that he was out the door - and under the shed before I realized he wasn't blissfully sleeping under the dining room table.
Sometimes I don't even know he is outside until I get a call from a neighbor saying "your lunatic dog has been barking for the past 30 minutes". Once he is under that shed, nose-to-nose with the raccoon, there is no way to get him out. I've tried turning the hose on them, shoving a rake under the shed, doing a Mexican hat dance inside the shed directly over them, whistling and even bringing out his favorite treat - bacon. Nothing stops him. I pray that he goes hoarse, but my prayers are never answered. I finally give up, go in the house, turn up my TV, and reconcile to myself that my dog will soon die at the little hands of a pissed-off raccoon.
Just when I start to wonder if the tightness in my chest means I should call 911 or mix myself a big boozy drink, Seymour casually walks back in through the doggie door and goes back to his blanket. No panting, no injuries, and no raccoon chasing him.
To Seymour, it's just another beautiful night in the neighborhood - it's time to lick those balls and go to sleep. He doesn't understand why I am heading to the liquor cabinet instead of bed.
Saturday, October 17, 2009
Farmer's Market May Be Selling Small Dog Meat
Don't worry - I saw no signs of dog meat at the market today. I saw bison, goat and chicken but if my little 4 legged alpha dog doesn't straighten up, he may be on the menu. OK, I'm not totally serious but I'm running out of patience here.
I went to a fabulous farmer's market today. There was such a positive energy flowing with all of the produce, arts and crafts, live music, good food and cool people walking with their well-behaved dogs. My eyes were riveted on each dog - big and small. They all walked quietly with their owners and none even sniffed the ground. They all - owners and dogs - seemed to be in a zen-like state as the walked around slowly, stopping to buy things and putting them in their recycled cotton bags. None of the dogs paid attention to other dogs - or people. It's almost like they were daydreaming. I was jealous.
I didn't have Seymour with me but want to take him. I'm just afraid of his probable bad behavior. Don't get me wrong, I love the little guy and 95% of the time he's great. It's just that the other 5% of the time takes up 95% of my last nerve. He loves people and most little dogs. But get him around deer or any big dog and he becomes a barking, lunging lunatic.
There are 2 varying opinions of him. People who have only seen him with other people - really anything on 2 legs - think he is the best thing since chocolate covered potato chips. But the ones who see him straining on his leash to go after the deer or the large dogs in my neighborhood call him the "beast" and I'm pretty sure it's not meant to be a term of endearment.
I really want to take him to the farmer's market next week but I'm terrified that he will be trying to start a fight with all of the docile animals there. I'm afraid that if I bring him once, I will be asked to never come back and I'm concerned that no one there will take the time to look at the video of him being a sweet dog that I plan to bring with me.
If I take him,these are the only ideas I can come up with:
1. Let him walk around the market with either a blindfold or black-out glasses on.
2. Pay someone else to walk him around the market while I shop on the opposite side. (and I can give them dirty looks, if needed)
3. Bite the bullet and walk him around but say I'm pet-sitting for my daughter.
4. See how much dog burger I can get from a 7 pound chihuahua
Wish me luck - or better yet - wish Seymour luck!
I went to a fabulous farmer's market today. There was such a positive energy flowing with all of the produce, arts and crafts, live music, good food and cool people walking with their well-behaved dogs. My eyes were riveted on each dog - big and small. They all walked quietly with their owners and none even sniffed the ground. They all - owners and dogs - seemed to be in a zen-like state as the walked around slowly, stopping to buy things and putting them in their recycled cotton bags. None of the dogs paid attention to other dogs - or people. It's almost like they were daydreaming. I was jealous.
I didn't have Seymour with me but want to take him. I'm just afraid of his probable bad behavior. Don't get me wrong, I love the little guy and 95% of the time he's great. It's just that the other 5% of the time takes up 95% of my last nerve. He loves people and most little dogs. But get him around deer or any big dog and he becomes a barking, lunging lunatic.
There are 2 varying opinions of him. People who have only seen him with other people - really anything on 2 legs - think he is the best thing since chocolate covered potato chips. But the ones who see him straining on his leash to go after the deer or the large dogs in my neighborhood call him the "beast" and I'm pretty sure it's not meant to be a term of endearment.
I really want to take him to the farmer's market next week but I'm terrified that he will be trying to start a fight with all of the docile animals there. I'm afraid that if I bring him once, I will be asked to never come back and I'm concerned that no one there will take the time to look at the video of him being a sweet dog that I plan to bring with me.
If I take him,these are the only ideas I can come up with:
1. Let him walk around the market with either a blindfold or black-out glasses on.
2. Pay someone else to walk him around the market while I shop on the opposite side. (and I can give them dirty looks, if needed)
3. Bite the bullet and walk him around but say I'm pet-sitting for my daughter.
4. See how much dog burger I can get from a 7 pound chihuahua
Wish me luck - or better yet - wish Seymour luck!
House Hunters Overload
I have been watching way too many episodes of House Hunters. It used to be really fun and somewhat educational. Now it's more like watching a car crash. I swear that the earlier episodes always had 3 great houses to choose from - "Will they pick House 1 with the pool and terrace overlooking the Hollywood sign, House 2 that looks like a castle complete with moat, or House 3, the 4000 sq foot house with a built-in cleaning lady?" It was hard to decide which they would pick, they were all pretty cool.
But lately, when they have the 3 houses to choose from, I'm wondering if that is the best of the lot in their price range? It should be called House Hunters - Recession Style. We're all barely getting by so I guess the houses they can afford are not the best on the block. Now their choices are "House 1 with 2 ft of water in the basement and the barely noticeable smell of mold, house number 2 that needs work - or torn down, or House 3 next to the junk yard and with the colorful graffiti on the back fence". Really - how long did it take them to find these awful houses? And did the families actually move into the house they choose or is this all a hoax to make us feel better about our own lives?
I want to see an HGTV show called "Choose your Neighbors". They take a family into a neighborhood where all of the houses pretty much look the same but they have to choose their house based on who they want to live next to. Do you want to live next to Neighbor number one, who can't help it if their dog can only poop in your yard (and no, they don't see a reason to clean it up), Neighbor number two who has a wee bit of a drinking and drug problem and plays loud music on their patio every night under a strobe light, or Neighbor number three who has not had electricity since 1999 and does not believe in mowing the lawn or towing away their broken cars?
Or how about a show called "Here's $100 - Make your Trailer Over." That would be great fun to see the end results. I'd probably spend $50 on pizza and beer for my friends and then once they are feeling pretty tipsy, hand them a paint brush and car pin-striping tape. I think people might watch that.
I would go on and on but they are now at the point in House Hunters International were a guy has to choose between an apartment that is very run down and the previous owner had left with the kitchen as well as the bathroom sink, or the 2 bedroom apartment that is 400 sq meters and the previous owners took the bedroom closets, or the fixer-up apartment with the small terrace that is only big enough to hold their washer and cat box.
If HGTV is trying to make me feel better - it's starting to work!
But lately, when they have the 3 houses to choose from, I'm wondering if that is the best of the lot in their price range? It should be called House Hunters - Recession Style. We're all barely getting by so I guess the houses they can afford are not the best on the block. Now their choices are "House 1 with 2 ft of water in the basement and the barely noticeable smell of mold, house number 2 that needs work - or torn down, or House 3 next to the junk yard and with the colorful graffiti on the back fence". Really - how long did it take them to find these awful houses? And did the families actually move into the house they choose or is this all a hoax to make us feel better about our own lives?
I want to see an HGTV show called "Choose your Neighbors". They take a family into a neighborhood where all of the houses pretty much look the same but they have to choose their house based on who they want to live next to. Do you want to live next to Neighbor number one, who can't help it if their dog can only poop in your yard (and no, they don't see a reason to clean it up), Neighbor number two who has a wee bit of a drinking and drug problem and plays loud music on their patio every night under a strobe light, or Neighbor number three who has not had electricity since 1999 and does not believe in mowing the lawn or towing away their broken cars?
Or how about a show called "Here's $100 - Make your Trailer Over." That would be great fun to see the end results. I'd probably spend $50 on pizza and beer for my friends and then once they are feeling pretty tipsy, hand them a paint brush and car pin-striping tape. I think people might watch that.
I would go on and on but they are now at the point in House Hunters International were a guy has to choose between an apartment that is very run down and the previous owner had left with the kitchen as well as the bathroom sink, or the 2 bedroom apartment that is 400 sq meters and the previous owners took the bedroom closets, or the fixer-up apartment with the small terrace that is only big enough to hold their washer and cat box.
If HGTV is trying to make me feel better - it's starting to work!
Monday, October 12, 2009
Watch the Time
It's important for me to be on time. I actually get tense when I'm late for an appointment, no matter how minor it may be. If I'm going to meet a friend for breakfast at 9:31, I apologize if I get there at 9:32. But now my friend is playing with my time-addiction so he is getting there at 9:28 which makes me apologize if I don't get there until 9:29. It's crazy - and it's gotten even crazier since I got my solar atomic watch. Now I know the exact time - early or late.
When I travel and the flight attendant says "We've now landed in Denver where the local time is approximately 8:45 am". I immediately look at my watch and have to hold my lips together to not shout "It is exactly 8:44 am." Sometimes I can't help myself and am forced to point to my watch and whisper to anyone who is next to me, "It's actually 8:44". For some reason, they don't seem impressed or happy to get the accurate information. Am I the only one who cares about the exact time?
Not only do I love the atomic part of my watch, but I'm thrilled that I never need to change batteries. Regular light keeps the watch running. If, by some unnatural occurrence my watch doesn't get light for a long period, I just put it on and as soon as the light hits it, the correct time is displayed.
As one who believes that you can't have too much of a good thing, I recently found a solar atomic watch - with a compass! I have a horrible sense of direction so I thought, what a perfect addition to my wrist. I started playing around with the buttons on the watch and without knowing how I did it, I set the watch alarm to go off at midnight each night. The instruction book that goes with the watch is an inch thick and is not written in my language. "Press and hold A while pressing C twice and then tap D to set your alarm". First, I can never remember the order of the buttons. I know there are 4 but they are not labeled A, B, C, and D and I am left handed, which somehow also comes into play. I could not figure out how to turn off the alarm.
I finally decided to bury my new watch under a pile of papers in my office so that it wouldn't get any light. To this day, at midnight I hear the beep-beep-beep of the alarm. I now can't seem to find the watch. When it starts to beep at midnight, I race to my office and start tearing through papers but it soon quits. The compass part has been no help; wouldn't you think it would shine a beam of light to the north or something? I'm tempted to try to set the other watch for 11:59 so I can get to my office a little earlier, but I couldn't figure out how to set the alarm by reading the directions.
So, I'm back using my original solar atomic watch, sadly with no compass, and I keep tape over the buttons. One midnight alarm is all I can handle.
When I travel and the flight attendant says "We've now landed in Denver where the local time is approximately 8:45 am". I immediately look at my watch and have to hold my lips together to not shout "It is exactly 8:44 am." Sometimes I can't help myself and am forced to point to my watch and whisper to anyone who is next to me, "It's actually 8:44". For some reason, they don't seem impressed or happy to get the accurate information. Am I the only one who cares about the exact time?
Not only do I love the atomic part of my watch, but I'm thrilled that I never need to change batteries. Regular light keeps the watch running. If, by some unnatural occurrence my watch doesn't get light for a long period, I just put it on and as soon as the light hits it, the correct time is displayed.
As one who believes that you can't have too much of a good thing, I recently found a solar atomic watch - with a compass! I have a horrible sense of direction so I thought, what a perfect addition to my wrist. I started playing around with the buttons on the watch and without knowing how I did it, I set the watch alarm to go off at midnight each night. The instruction book that goes with the watch is an inch thick and is not written in my language. "Press and hold A while pressing C twice and then tap D to set your alarm". First, I can never remember the order of the buttons. I know there are 4 but they are not labeled A, B, C, and D and I am left handed, which somehow also comes into play. I could not figure out how to turn off the alarm.
I finally decided to bury my new watch under a pile of papers in my office so that it wouldn't get any light. To this day, at midnight I hear the beep-beep-beep of the alarm. I now can't seem to find the watch. When it starts to beep at midnight, I race to my office and start tearing through papers but it soon quits. The compass part has been no help; wouldn't you think it would shine a beam of light to the north or something? I'm tempted to try to set the other watch for 11:59 so I can get to my office a little earlier, but I couldn't figure out how to set the alarm by reading the directions.
So, I'm back using my original solar atomic watch, sadly with no compass, and I keep tape over the buttons. One midnight alarm is all I can handle.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Internet Dating
It's not easy for an older woman to meet guys - since there are very few left in my age range. May they rest in peace. So, I tried Internet dating for about six months. Unfortunately, it's 2 years later and I still can't figure out how to stop them from taking a monthly fee out of my checking account! I'm doing a one-person picket line and refuse to use the site anymore. But, during my active dating time I learned a few things.
1. Men complain about women putting glamour shots on their profiles, yet the men I met use the best pictures they have ever taken - in their lives! Hey, here's a picture of me water skiing - 20 years ago. "Yes, that's me at college graduation - I always liked that picture". This is a good picture - of when I had hair. Come on guys, at least get a current glamour shot for your profile.
2. Then reading the profile, they put interests that are either things they used to do - 20 years ago, or things they wish they had done. Play sports (baseball in little league), dance (once), hike (from the car to the DQ) or write poetry (there once was a man from Nantucket . . .)
3. Women lie about age and weight but men lie about height. I went out with a guy who said he was 5' 6" - a little on the shorter side but that was OK. We met at a restaurant and he was sitting down when I arrived. We talked a bit during lunch and when we got up to go, he was actually shorter standing up than he was sitting down.
I've come to the conclusion that a dating profile of an older man is just a pre-written obituary. You see their best pictures, interests throughout their lives, number of kids and marital status. I think that dating profiles could put obit writers out of business. Maybe I should start reading the obituaries and see who I wish I had met 5 years before!
Now I have to say, I did have one good experience with Internet dating. One night, I came home late from a trip, tired and grouchy and I had an email from a guy from a dating site. It said "Hi, you're just the kind of person I'm looking for. You can't be the age you say you are, you look at least 10 years younger."
I started getting a little ego lift so I clicked on his profile, which started "I am a legally blind man. . . ."
I know I should have followed up with him, but I was afraid he might bring a large magnifying glass on our first date.
That ended my Internet dating experience - but unfortunately I'm still paying for it!
1. Men complain about women putting glamour shots on their profiles, yet the men I met use the best pictures they have ever taken - in their lives! Hey, here's a picture of me water skiing - 20 years ago. "Yes, that's me at college graduation - I always liked that picture". This is a good picture - of when I had hair. Come on guys, at least get a current glamour shot for your profile.
2. Then reading the profile, they put interests that are either things they used to do - 20 years ago, or things they wish they had done. Play sports (baseball in little league), dance (once), hike (from the car to the DQ) or write poetry (there once was a man from Nantucket . . .)
3. Women lie about age and weight but men lie about height. I went out with a guy who said he was 5' 6" - a little on the shorter side but that was OK. We met at a restaurant and he was sitting down when I arrived. We talked a bit during lunch and when we got up to go, he was actually shorter standing up than he was sitting down.
I've come to the conclusion that a dating profile of an older man is just a pre-written obituary. You see their best pictures, interests throughout their lives, number of kids and marital status. I think that dating profiles could put obit writers out of business. Maybe I should start reading the obituaries and see who I wish I had met 5 years before!
Now I have to say, I did have one good experience with Internet dating. One night, I came home late from a trip, tired and grouchy and I had an email from a guy from a dating site. It said "Hi, you're just the kind of person I'm looking for. You can't be the age you say you are, you look at least 10 years younger."
I started getting a little ego lift so I clicked on his profile, which started "I am a legally blind man. . . ."
I know I should have followed up with him, but I was afraid he might bring a large magnifying glass on our first date.
That ended my Internet dating experience - but unfortunately I'm still paying for it!
Friday, October 2, 2009
Cesar, Help Me!
I watch the Dog Whisperer regularly. I follow the exercise and love part but I'm having a bit of trouble with the discipline. I will take part of the blame but it can't all be my fault. Seymour has slowly but surely starting asserting himself and now I find that I'm in competition with him for being the pack leader.
Having a dog is like having a child all over again. I'll admit that there were times (many) when my kids would get their way after a tantrum. There were also times when I can't believe what would come out of my mouth -
After hearing "Mom, mom, mom", my retort was "I'm changing my name and I'm not telling you what it is!" That was mature of me.
I guess when it came to my dog, I decided that I should be more mature and understanding so I now have a 7 pound pack leader want-to-be in my house. It's like the lesson in biology about the frog that was put in water that kept getting hotter and hotter and - well I don't want to go into the gory details, but I am that frog!
Seymour went from sleeping in his crate in the dining room, to sleeping in his crate in my bedroom, to sleeping in my bed! It was almost like magic or I was hypnotized! Where did he learn that??
Then he started asserting his will during our walks - he had his own idea on which direction he wanted to go and when he wanted to just turn around and go back home. I know he's only a little guy, but I'm not comfortable having my neighbors seeing me dragging a 7 pound dog around the block - and I think it would be bad for his skin. So,he is basically now taking me for a walk.
Lastly, he has gone from loving his dog food to giving it a sniff and then jumping on my lap, looking me deeply in the eyes and saying telepathically "I know you're holding out on me - where's the bacon?"
Seymour has gotten so good at the pack leader role that I'm sure he has a mentor. My only legitimate conclusion is that there is a "People Whisperer" - and maybe the "People Whisperer" is happening at the same time I'm watching "The Dog Whisperer" in that high pitched voice that only dogs can here. I think that Cesar needs to have a talk with his pack - or there needs to be statement at the beginning of the show that says "not appropriate for dogs". I'm just saying -
Having a dog is like having a child all over again. I'll admit that there were times (many) when my kids would get their way after a tantrum. There were also times when I can't believe what would come out of my mouth -
After hearing "Mom, mom, mom", my retort was "I'm changing my name and I'm not telling you what it is!" That was mature of me.
I guess when it came to my dog, I decided that I should be more mature and understanding so I now have a 7 pound pack leader want-to-be in my house. It's like the lesson in biology about the frog that was put in water that kept getting hotter and hotter and - well I don't want to go into the gory details, but I am that frog!
Seymour went from sleeping in his crate in the dining room, to sleeping in his crate in my bedroom, to sleeping in my bed! It was almost like magic or I was hypnotized! Where did he learn that??
Then he started asserting his will during our walks - he had his own idea on which direction he wanted to go and when he wanted to just turn around and go back home. I know he's only a little guy, but I'm not comfortable having my neighbors seeing me dragging a 7 pound dog around the block - and I think it would be bad for his skin. So,he is basically now taking me for a walk.
Lastly, he has gone from loving his dog food to giving it a sniff and then jumping on my lap, looking me deeply in the eyes and saying telepathically "I know you're holding out on me - where's the bacon?"
Seymour has gotten so good at the pack leader role that I'm sure he has a mentor. My only legitimate conclusion is that there is a "People Whisperer" - and maybe the "People Whisperer" is happening at the same time I'm watching "The Dog Whisperer" in that high pitched voice that only dogs can here. I think that Cesar needs to have a talk with his pack - or there needs to be statement at the beginning of the show that says "not appropriate for dogs". I'm just saying -
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