Fishing is soooo relaxing....

Okay not really so much when you're on a boat.  Nope no relaxation about it unless you hire the boat and they have their own deckhands.....

Yes, this is Belle, deckhand for the BAR boating and fishing trips.  Kx is of course the captain, since he has way more experience at all things nautical than I, especially when it comes to being at the helm.  Years ago, while I have learned to pilot a boat and I do pretty well, it was decided that  I really am good at all the grunt work that's involved in boating.

I am always in charge of the anchor, both deploying and pulling up the anchor.  I am also always in charge of or better said really, I am THE BAR standard and nonstandard methods of unsticking the boat as referred to by Kx in his previous post.  Here let me explain these methods to you.

The standard BAR method for unsticking the boat is for when it's a typical sticking such as, but not limited to:

1. Trapped in the mud due to anchoring close to shore to find the fish in salt grass or other in water structure close to shore.
2.  In the sand when the boat is intentionally beached for fishing or fun purposes.
3.  Trapped in the mud simply because there is a low tide and the navigator (oh yeah that's me too using a GPS and a map) is just slightly off course.

The standard BAR method for unsticking the boat consists of Kx at the helm, barking at deckhand to get to the front of the boat.  Deckhand then takes the depth sounder (otherwise known as an oar) and uses it to push the boat out of the mud while the captain is at the helm maneuvering the boat using the wheel and the engine.

The non-standard BAR method for unsticking the boat is used after at least 20 minutes of standard method being tried.  This method consists of Kx at the helm, deckhand finally throwing up her hands and saying, screw this and laying depth sounder on the deck and going overboard to push and 'manhandle' the boat off of sandbar or out of mud while Kx is expertly maneuvering the boat using the wheel and the engine.

So, after having read Kx's account of events on our 'relaxing' fishing trip, you can see that really it wasn't very relaxing until we got home, ate dinner and for me personally, after I took a muscle relaxer and had two glasses of wine.  I was so sore when we got back to the house that even my eyelashes hurt.

Hubby and I, are really a good team on the boat.  Though when the kids were small they would think that we both lost our minds because there is a lot of raised voices and creative cussing going on.. but really if I am ever in a jam, then it's Kx that I would always want in my corner..  thank goodness I married him!

I really have nothing else to add about our outing other than it was great to be down there despite the issues we had and I can't wait to get back down there...

Away for a year and everything changes

Plans work perfectly until they meet reality.
Belle and I headed down to the coast to do some fishing for the first time in well over a year.

Let's just say that pretty much everything that could have gone wrong did.
I'll try the abridged version.
* Full Moon Friday night - more on this later
* Favorite restaurant out of bidness.
* Backup restaurant lost liquor license.
* Cut from Caney Creek to Intercoastal:    Cut is now silted to 12" deep. Stuck the boat, slowly thankfully. Boat in front of us and boat in back of us stuck as well. (I am amongst good company)
* Deploy standard BAR boat unsticking protocol.
* Air was dead still, surf was still too high to get out in the gulf and fish the sandbars. damnit.
* Seaweed moving on the incoming tide was immense in the channels nearby.  Got a Bite! No. Wait. just a ten pound clump of seaweed.
* Tidal current shifted the boat while anchored onto a mud shelf, boat stuck again.
* Deploy standard BAR boat unsticking protocol.
*  Back to the intercoastal to head 6 or 7 miles west wherein we snagged a sizable sheet of plastic floating subsurface on the lower unit that plowed copious amounts of water OVER the stern. Brain says, " I don't remember the boat doing this...something must be wrong.
*  Clear Plastic.  Decide to call it a day.
* Change mind on the way back and decide to hit the bay through the really narrow and shallow cut.
* Stick Boat.
* Deploy standard BAR boat unsticking protocol.
* Ease across bay, fish bird island...nothing.
* Head to the south shore of the barrier island separating the bay from the gulf. Nothing.
* Really decide to call it a day.
* Stick the boat on the way back through the really narrow and shallow cut to the canal.
* Deploy standard BAR boat unsticking protocol.
*  Barge traffic now looks like rush hour interspersed with shrimpers too lazy to hit the deep parts of the bay pulling nets in the intercoastal.  WEEEEEE!
*  I think I've figured out where the deeper part of the cut from the intercoastal to Caney Creek is on the way back.
* Stick boat for a good half hour.
* Deploy Nonstandard BAR boat unsticking protocol.  Belle is likely to post on this later as well. You could never ask for a better deck hand.
*  Belle brought some truly awesome steaks which pretty much made all the bad day go away.
* The two things that did go right is I did not trash the lower unit on the boat while sticking it and the engine did not crap out on us. (been there, done that, got the sunburn scars to prove it, once 30 miles out in the Pacific...not my boat.)



* Full moon. When the moon is full, the fish feed at night and lay up fat and happy during the day.
We know this, but we had not been down to fish in over a year and we were going FISHING DAMNIT.

I think I've missed two other boat stickings and omited some other miscellaneous shit that went wrong, but that's enough for one post.

Can't wait to get back down there again! 

The Zen of Driving Traffic

"Zen" might a bit of a stretch.  Try this; repeat after me, "oooMMMM, oooMMM". No? Not working?
The Big Guy captures most of the thoughts that pass through my mind on my daily commute.
Except for one.

Years ago, I was at a red light with a lady in and SUV in front of me in the right lane.  A semi was in the middle lane to our left. 80,000 lb. blind spot.
I'm running late and fuming,  "If you hadn't been such a slow poke, I could be making my right on the red at least, and might make it back from lunch on time".
The light turns green and the semi shifts into granny gear and gets one revolution out of the wheels, to my left.  SUV lady starts to go and hits the brakes hard.   WTF?!  IT DOESN'T GET ANY GREENER!
 A garbage truck blew through the red light coming from left to right well above the speed limit, completely blocked from view by the Semi, clearing SUV lady's front bumper by a foot or so.
I don't know how she felt, but I think I had an out of body experience.

Occasionally, my brain offers some sage commentary, "If you had been first in line, you'd be dead you impatient* moron."

When I get frustrated with traffic and other drivers, a faint little voice in my head reminds me, "there might be a reason for your delay."**



*The word my brain actually used began with an F and ended in "ing".
** I'm no longer in such a rush that I feel compelled to be the first to arrive at the scene of my own fiery death.
Being crushed and / or punted half a block I also don't find so appealing.
Now I just leave one red light earlier.

Thank goodness I didn't make myself a widow!

Okay, so we are back from the crick and I would have wrote written about this yesterday but I was a little too shaken and Kx was even more so....

We went to lunch yesterday at a restaurant that sits on the creek.  We decided to take the boat.

Now, keep in mind that I'm no expert at driving a boat.  In fact, I learned from my other half how to drive a boat as I had only steer from the lap of my dad when I was a little girl.

The boat in question, I was always reluctant to be at the helm because for one, it's an expensive boat, and two...   well, it's longer and heavier than the boat that I used to drive and three, it's not exactly our boat, but rather Kx's father's boat that we are allowed to use at our leisure..

Lately, I've been wanting to drive the boat more, which means I have to learn how to pull it into the slip so that we can dock it.  This of course is a useful skill in case something happens and I have to drive us back in from a fishing trip because Kx is for some reason unable to do so.

So yesterday, we go to the restaurant and I'm pulling into the slip.  Kx is barking his usual commands... REVERSE... REVERSE...  STRAIGHTEN YOUR WHEEL....   FORWARD.. REVERSE REVERSE!!

Meanwhile, I'm trying to avoid an obstruction in the water AND I notice the starboard (right side of the boat for you land lovers) stern (back of the boat) are about to be under the pier.  I was in neutral but didn't want to let go of the wheel (my mistake, its okay to leave the helm when you are in neutral) but my arm caught on the throttle and I ended up giving it a lot of gas.

The sudden motion caught Kx by surprise and almost dumped him into the creek between the boat and the pier, which I rammed in to.  Had he gone overboard, I would have crushed him.........  

Once everyone calmed down, and the better part of my ass grew back from the chewing that it got from Kx, it was fine.  It was a close call and a lesson very well learned.

Good news is that he let me drive home and pull the boat in the slip at the house, which wasn't exactly pretty but I got the job done without hitting anything which is an improvement!

In two weeks, we go back......   docking drills are a MUST.......  

All that without a single drop of rum!!

Well, I haven't been blogging this past week, Kx has been picking up the slack.  You see, he's been nagging at me to write about my recent tumble down a flight of stairs......

My long time readers will remember the story of my wrestling with an outboard motor, new readers can go and look here for the story and you will find out that I am not always as graceful as I look.  In fact, I sometimes think that I am just one big accident waiting to happen (except when handling firearms of course).  In fact, a very dear friend of mine thinks that I should be wrapped up in bubble wrap like the Michelin Tire Man or something.

We went on our cruise to Mexico and had a wonderful time.  It was my first cruise and while I am very accustomed to being on a boat, angler that I am, I had never been on a large ship for an extended period of time.

When we arrived back home, I found that my sea legs were just fine, however, I had to get my land legs back because my balance was off for a few days after the trip.  I still felt like I was moving.  Granted the seas were very calm and I don't have problems with motion sickness of any kind; however, when you're on a cruise ship, you can still sense that you are moving and you can feel the slight changes in the ship as you move over waves.

We had been home for more than 24 hours and my other half had gone to the store.  I was upstairs and had decided to go downstairs.  It was no big deal, there was nothing in my hands, nothing blocking my view it was just an ordinary trip down the same stairs that I have descended thousands of times over 13 1/2 years.

Somehow or another, the first step down disappeared on me and I missed it completely (sneaky stair) and having overstepped it, I then hit the second step down but kind of far out and that's when all hell broke loose.

Not one, but both feet slipped out from under me and I fell flat on my ass on the stairs...  well, I bounced off my ass on the stairs.

So the chain of events are like so....

1.  I pulled the missing step trick on my feet, which were surprised at having such a far reach, they panicked and flew into the air.
2.  My ass acted as a cushion/bouncey ball and on impact hurled me into the air.
3.  My arms, not wanting to be left out of the fun waved in the air, which somehow or another directed my body sideways while my body managed to fold itself in half at the waist....
4.  My ass apparently loved the stairs so much that it decided to give the edge of the stairs a hug, which ended up giving my tailbone a bit of a shock.
5.  My brain thinks that my ass is on fire and tells my body to "stop, drop and roll"
6.  My body rolls a little more than half way down the stairs.

The amazing thing about all this?  Nothing broken and just a few bruises on my ass.  I was sore in places that I forget even existed though.

Bowling the next night was torture, and this past Monday, a week after the fall, I was still a little sore.  There is something about a sore tailbone and hurling a 12 lb ball that just don't mix well!

When I told my story to Kx... he said I needed to blog it.  I've been waiting for the embarrassment and shame to leave me before I did.

It reminds me of a Patrick McManus story about falling.  It's called How to go Splat!  I think that my fall would have been rated at least a 9 considering that my comically droll statement as I walked away was straight from Jack Sparrow's (Pirates of the Carribbean) lips....

"All that without a single drop of rum!"

Idiot Prank Reminds Me of a Story

My other half posted up this morning about a prank that some kids pulled at a Subway restaurant.  Something very similar happened to me when I was a teenager.

When I was in high school, I worked at McDonald's.  I was working the drive through one night when a group of boys walked past the window and amongst the group, one of the guys pulls a gun out of his pocket, points it in my direction and says, "Bang".

I can remember the sick feeling that I had in my stomach and pale as a ghost, I turned to my manager and said, "Oh my god, he's got a gun."

The group of boys came inside the store and the kid with the gun immediately realized that we were all in a panic and they needed to get the fuck out of dodge.  They took off.

A little while later, the police pulled them over (we had gotten their plate number and gave it to the police) and the officer brought them by the restaurant, cuffed and asked me to identify who had the gun, which I did.

Turns out that the gun was a shiny silver plastic toy gun.  It was dark outside and so I didn't realize that it was fake.  The officer kept asking me if the guy had said anything to me like, "Stick'em up.. or give me all your money," which I answered with a no.

They guys got let go, (once their parents came to pick them up) but they never pulled that crap again.  Had any one of those fools said anything other than "bang", they would have been taken to jail for a very long time.   The kid with the toy gun apologized to me for months afterward (he still came to McDonald's) and even asked me for a date quite a few times.

I never did go out with him, I figured that anyone that stupid is just not someone that I would be interested in dating... ;)

Happy Anniversary

I was reading a very wonderful article over at North's place and I suddenly realized that Monday night marked the 14th anniversary of the first date with my better half.

As I may have mentioned before, the hubby and I used to work together, which is how we met.  We didn't know each other on a personal level all that well, but we had attended parties and office happy hours and had a pretty good idea that we enjoyed conversing with one another.

What I didn't know is that at some point, he took notice of me (will let him elaborate on that some other time).

One day, me and a friend of mine in the office went to lunch and he came out of the closet to me (which I informed him that I already figured as much) and we were talking about dating and other stuff and the conversation went as follows:

Me:  I really just need to find myself a good man and settle down.
Jim:  Well what about Kx59?  He's single, handsome, smart.
Me:  Kx59??  Well, yes  he's very good looking, has a great smile, a good sense of humor, but I don't know that we have anything in common and not to mention he doesn't even know I exist.
Jim:  Well, you just never know Belle, remember his last girlfriend sat at your desk, maybe it's fate!

That very same day, Kx comes walking up to the front where I was relieving the receptionist for a break and informed me he was leaving to take his daughter to get her allergy shots.  Before he left, he asked what I was doing Friday night.  I told him that I had my daughters but might could get a sitter...  he asked me to go to the Houston Rodeo with him and that Alan Jackson was playing.

Of course, my mother wasn't one that really babysat on the weekends for me but wow, she didn't hesitate to say yes when I told her that one of the architects in the office wanted to take me to the Rodeo.  I laugh about it but I had dated with some real gems in my time so it's no surprise that she was so willing.

So it was off to the Rodeo we went.  It was a nice evening which included a trip to Papasitos where he had dinner and I, not wanting to assume it was a date, only had chips and salsa and a couple of beers since my budget was very tight at the time.

I was dressed up in my standard cowboy attire which included white Rocky Mountain jeans, boots, hat and a black and white blouse when dipped low in the back.  Apparently Kx liked that and when the performance started, he put his hand on my back and I can remember the jolt of electricity that shot through me, all the way to my toes when his hand touched my skin.

All I could do at that point was sit up straight and not make a move as I still didn't know if it was really a date and we did have to work together come Monday, and the fact that another architect and his wife were sitting right behind us and so I didn't want any rumors to start (ha).  In the middle of the performance the other couple left and then I relaxed a little and hubby still had his hand on my back and I leaned into him a bit, resting up against his shoulder.

After the show was over, we had the task of finding his jeep in the parking lot.  It was cold outside, and we held hands.  Eventually we found the Jeep and he dropped me off at my car which was still at the office.  We talked for a little bit, then said good night.  After a long look into each other's eyes, I slipped out of the passenger's seat, got into my car and made the drive home.

On the way home, this song came on the radio and I immediately thought of him with a smile on my face.


 

I knew that there had been an unbelievable amount of chemistry there and after a couple of weeks, we went out again and it proved to be true.  Before we knew it we were in a whirlwind of dating, and an emtional and physical intensity that I would have never believed to be possible.

So to my beloved Kx59, thank you for the 14 years of love and devotion.  I know that at first I did the best I could to chase you away, thanks for not running.  You have been my heart and soul and I consider myself the luckiest woman on the planet.  Simply put, I love you and Happy Anniversary even if it's a couple days late.

Ouchies and Dumb Stuff

I was really a lucky kid growing up.  I was not a child of divorce, I was blessed with good, solid parents who raised me right, and I was afforded the rare opporutnity to spend the first 7 almost 8 years of my life as not only the only child, but the only grandchild on both sides of the family.  So yes, I was a little spoiled in my early years with four grandparents, and four aunts and uncles who all thought that I hung the moon.

Recently, Kx59 posted some really dumb things that he did, or close calls that he had in childhood and adulthood that fortunately, didn't turn out devastating for him.  Today, I am and I don't know, maybe it's the weather, but I am feeling a little melancholy and when I feel that way, I tend to drift off into the past and think of better times in my life, and sometimes not so good as well.

So here are my 'close calls' and general stupid things that I did, the first two, I was too young to remember but I have been told the story many times.  All the rest, are burned into my memory.

When I was an infant, my parents were driving home and had me in an infant carrier in the backseat of the car.  Of course, this was in 1968 and there were no seatbelts in the back seat of the car.  I was apparently asleep back there and mom and dad were sitting at a red light.  The light turned green and dad proceeded into the intersection when a car ran a red light and smashed in to mom and dad's car.  My parents were briefly knocked unconcious and  when they woke, they turned to see if I was okay, but I was no where to be found.  Dad said, "where's my baby" about the same time that my mom discovered that I had been thrown from the back seat, between the bucket seats, missing the gear shift and the steering wheel and landed at my dad's feet (he was driving).  Mom said that she looked down and there I was awake, looking around like, "WTF" in my little yellow dress, yellow socks and black, patent leather shoes.  My mother started screaming which caused me to scream and cry... nothing mom did could calm me down so a woman came and took me from her, which resulted in my immediate calming.  A trip to the hospital revealed that I didn't have a scratch on me, and my grandmother swore for the rest of her life that the angels were looking out for me and placed me at my daddy's feet.  I just call it dumb luck.

I had the mumps on both sides when I was about 6 months old.  Had to be force fed and was miserable and very ill.

The first real close call that I can remember happened at the lake (I was around 3).  My dad and one of my aunts (who was 15 at the time) were out in the water, horsing around and I decided that I wanted to go to them.  I can remember walking toward them, and suddenly I came to where the bottom drops off a couple of feet and the water was immediately over my head.  I couldn't swim.  Mom was up at the top of the hill and dad and aunt were too loud to hear me splashing around.  What I remember is that I would let myself go to the bottom and then I would push off as hard as I could to the surface to get air.  I did this over and over.  At some point, mom saw me and was screaming and running toward me down the hill...    I can remember choking on water and still bobbing up and down struggling to stay alive.  I also remember getting weaker, but best of all, I remember the strong hand that grabbed me up and pulled me to him, taking me to the beach and getting the water out of my lungs.  Those hands of course were my dad's.  Interestingly enough, I love the water and love to swim so I never developed a phobia of water.

When I was about 4, I decided that I would play in my dad's truck.  I was playing school bus or some other nonsense.  So, I decided that I would pull the emergency brake, which was not a good idea since it was a column shift, standard transmission and our driveway was very steep.  The truck started to back up so I grabbed hold of the wheel and pushed down on the brake as hard as I could.  The truck rolled back faster.... oops that wasn't the brake, hind sight being 20/20 and knowing now what I didn't back then, I was pressing on the clutch.  Lucky for me, there were no cars coming as the truck backed out into the street and proceeded to run over the stop sign on the corner across the street.

When I was 5, my best friend's parents had a Gremlin in their driveway which didn't run (go figure).  Wasps had decided to move into the hood of the thing, in the grill next to the windshield.  My friend and I came up with the bright idea to get a coat hanger and unwind it, using the stretched out hanger, stick it next to the nest in the grill and rattle it around.  My friend went first... the wasps would come out and she ran away laughing.  Once the wasps settled back down, it was my turn.  I stuck the coat hanger in, and ran.....    success.  Next up was my friend who had another successful run but when it was my turn again, I no sooner got that hanger to the grill when a wasp ambushed me and stung me right on the bone next to my eye.....   my eye was swollen for days.

Speaking of swollen eyes, sometimes parents do dumb things and injure their kids on accident.  My best friend, her dad and me and my dad all went to the fair.  The dad's decided that it would be a fun thing to take us girls in the bumper cars.  On their laps we went, riding around, bumping one another and getting bumped by others.  Two dads decide that they would play chicken....  going at each other head on....   daughters laughing and giggling, until no one wanted to be the chicken and a head on collision commenced resulting in me getting a black eye and my poor friend, losing both of her front teeth......     dads were ashamed when we got home and most likely had to avoid recieving black eyes and knocked out teeth of their own from the ire of the moms that were none too happy.

When I was six, I was riding my bicycle down the same, said driveway only to realize there was a car coming.... my first instinct was to put my bare feet down and stop....  instead, I dragged my toes across the concrete losing about half of my two big toe nails.....   OUCH

I've had multiple car accidents and a few of them I wonder how I walked away safely.  One, my head was stuck in the door of the car....  another I had knocked out the back window with my head (I was driving and catapulted to the back seat, being ripped out of the seatbelt) and the last, I don't really want to talk about here.  All of them were my own fault.

I've written about motor rasslin' click to read, it's a funny story.

I guess that's really about all...   I've had more bumps and bruises as kids always do but those are the ones that stand out the most and my post has been long enough. 

Christmas in July........

I was telling this story to the hubby and he requested that I re-tell it here. Here goes.....

I am almost 8 years older than my younger brother. For the first years of my life I was not only an only child, but I was the only grandchild on BOTH sides of my family. Needless to say, I was everyone's darling and maybe a little on the spoiled side.

When my brother came along, I was happy but a part of me was I'm sure a bit on the jealous side as well, which considering the circumstances, who could blame me.

That being said, I love my baby brother very much but I would sometimes play the role of Lucy (Peanuts) when it came to our relationship.

I am very much my father's daughter. I love a good laugh and I love a practical joke. Usually it was dad pulling the jokes on me (removing a starter from a gas grill that was broken he said,"here baby, hold on to these two wires for me"...... he presses the button to the gas grill starter and I got a heck of a shock in my finger tips.... "nope, that's not the problem".... an hour later, little brother walks in the room.... I pick up the starter.... "here lil bro hold on to these two wires for me"...... he screams and I end up getting yelled at by mom while dad is laughing his head off... of course I digress)

So with all of this in mind........... My brother had gotten into my room and broke something or other and so I decided that I would pay him back.

I woke up early on a Saturday and went into his room and said, "Wake up! Santa Claus came!"

My brother who was about 8 at the time, jumps out of bed and runs into the living room where my dad is sitting there having a cup of coffee and reading the paper.

Brother looks around and sees no presents.... he immediately drops to his knees and lets out this blood-curdling squeal.

Daddy, who was startled and nearly jumped out of his skin, looked at him and said very loudly, "WHAT THE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH YOU BOY?!!"

Brother cried, "Santa didn't bring any presents!"

Daddy said to him, "Hell no he didn't bring presents! It's July!... go on back to bed!"

My brother went back to bed and my dad looked at me and said, "What the hell was THAT all about?!"

I said, "I don't know, he must have been dreaming."

I wish I would have told my dad what really had happened but I never fessed up. I know that years later he would have gotten a kick out of it.

Now, you all will probably think that I was a mean person and I promise you, I wasn't. I was only mean when provoked.

I did pick on my brother from time to time, but heaven help anyone other than me that would pick on him because I would have beat their ass.

Merry Christmas Y'all!

King Tut

I've been fascinated with all things ancient ever since I was a little girl.

I have an uncle (my dad's brother) who is a very gifted yet eccentric man.  He worked at NASA during the space race and then moved on to work for the Department of Defense doing super-secret defense stuff that he can't talk about.  He's an electrical engineer.

When I was growing up, I was always fascinated with my uncle not only because of his scientific mega-mind (how many kids could say to their friends, "My uncle designs stuff that goes to the moon") but because he is full of very interesting facts and knowledge about the ancient world, in particular, Ancient Egypt.

For a time, he worked and lived in Jetta, Saudi Arabia and while he was over there, he got the opportunity to see Egypt.  (this was before the terror threats that we have today, the region was much more stable back then)  He has a treasure trove of slides that he took while in that part of the world and when I would go and visit him and my grandmother over the summers, we would look at slides for what seems like hours.

With each click of the slide projector and with each image on the large screen, there was a story to be told.  He would explain what each image was, what it meant and/or what it was used for.  I was always fascinated.  To this day, if there is something on TV about Ancient Egypt, I will always watch.

My uncle had a book about King Tut and the discovery of his tomb witten by Howard Carter himself.  Howard Carter is the man who discovered Tutankamen's tomb.  Granted, Carter originally wrote the book in three volumes; however, this was a modern (at the time) compilation of all three volumes but Carter is listed as the author and nothing was changed.

I loved to read that book and look at the photos in it and my uncle, bought a copy of the same book for me as a gift.  Funny thing about that book.  At the time of Tut's discovery, they didn't know who his parents were but thought that he was probably the son in law of Akhenaten, the heretic King who had changed his name from Amenhotep IV.  Carter states in his book that for all they know Tut could have been a common boy who married a Princess.  (We now know, through DNA testing of the two mummies, that Tut was the son of Akhenaten)

So fast forward to this past Sunday when I was able to go and see the King Tut exhibit at the Houston Museum of Fine Arts.  I constantly thought of my uncle as I looked at artifact after artifact and as I moved through the exhibit I recognized several of the items from my book.  At the end of one room, in a case by itself I recogonized one piece in particular which is on the cover of my book.

The above is the book that I've had since I was 10, but on the cover is a beautifully detailed alabaster lid to a canopic jar.  A canopic jar is where the organs of a mummy were stored.  Each jar had 4 separate compartments with 4 separate lids and each set of organs were placed in individual coffins and then placed in the canopic jar.  The organs (except for the brain) were kept because they believed that the dead King would need his organs in the afterlife.  The heart remained in the chest, the lungs, liver and kidneys were placed in the tiny coffins and stored in the jar in separate compartments.  The brain was discarded.

The piece in the above photo was exquisite in person.  The detail in the carving and painting was simply amazing.  In a case nearby there on display was one of the tiny coffins for one of the organs.  This was made of solid gold and the detail was just as amazing as the canopic jar lid.

My day was simply wonderful as I moved through that exhibit, not only was I looking into a world of ancient times, but I was pulled directly back to some of the happiest times of my childhood.  I hope that my uncle knows how much his knowledge and his own experiences have shaped my own personal interests.  To be sure, I will send him an email today just to say hello and get him to come and read about my day at the museum.

Something else that my uncle taught me.....    he taught me to write my name in hieroglyphs.  Assuming that I did this correctly at the time, I wrote my name inside my book (just like he did in his copy).

If I've never thanked you for all the wonderful times my beloved uncle.........     thank you and I love you.

Ouch! That hurt!

Murphy's Law tells a funny little story about his dog, Murphy's total dislike of the UPS man.

I've written about my blue heeler, Patch and how he would herd hermit crabs and about how he was pretty darn aggressive, as was his nature.  In fact, he was very difficult to keep under control as he was constantly wanting to rise to the dominant position in the house.  He didn't stand a chance with me or the hubby, but we were constantly having to assert OUR dominance over him in subtle ways such as not letting him go into a room before us, or eat before us, etc. etc. occasionally, subtle would not work, then we would have to use more aggressive techniques.

For the most part, Patch was a very sweet and loyal dog.  I could look into his eyes and see the love and devotion there which admittedly sometimes would borderline obsession.  If I was in the front yard working in the yard, I could see him watching me out the window, or if he was in the backyard, he would peek through a knot hole in the fence at me.....    I digress.....

So, ML's story about Murphy's dislike of the UPS man reminded me of the scar that I have on my leg from Patch.

The UPS guy had come to the door and Patch was going nuts as usual....   typically I could keep Patch back by simply saying 'stay', but this particular time was different.  The UPS guy needed a signature and when he was handing me the electronic clipboard to sign, my protective, loyal companion took that as the UPS guy grabbing at his mommy.

Patch was having NONE of that.  Nope!  So in a valiant effort at protecting me, Patch lunged at the door, barking and baring teeth.....    unfortunately (though better me than the UPS guy, I would not want a lawsuit on my hands), my leg got in the way and as he was barking, he ended up with my calf in his mouth.  This resulted in him sinking his tooth into my skin.

I looked down at him and it was really surreal.....  when he bit, he realized that he screwed up and he immediately opened his mouth and 'spit out' my leg as if he had bitten into something that tasted really bad....  he then sat back on his butt and looked up at me as if to say, "I'm so sorry mom!  I didn't mean to do that!"

As for my reaction, it was in slow motion... I could see him let go of my leg and has his teeth exited my leg I could see the flesh slide off his tooth and I could feel my stomach churn as I was thinking, "This is going to be bad."  I looked down at a single hole in my leg (luckily he only got me with one upper canine and the lowers and the other upper only scraped my skin) but there was no blood......

I handed the UPS guy his tablet and shut the door.... Patch was still sulking and then I looked down and blood was beginning to flow.  I bled for a little while but I was okay.  It was sore for several days but I didn't get an infection or anything like that.  I didn't need a tetnus shot because I had one less than five years prior to that incident thanks to a car accident (but that's another story).

I'm not sure what it is about the UPS man, if it's the brown uniform or the big truck they drive or what, but dogs really don't like them.  Patch and Murphy aren't the only dogs that I've heard that hate guys in brown uniforms.

Moral of the story, don't let your leg get in the crossfire of an angry dog and the UPS guy!

Here's a pic of Patch

I miss you buddy....   you were loved every bit as much as you loved me.

Some things are just funny.......

Bluesun has been having raccoon and apparently skunk trouble in his yard.  They've been killing his chickens.  So, he's had to trap them and get rid of them.

He made a comment about changing into clothes that he didn't mind burning when he caught his first skunk and it reminded me of a funny story about when my dad was a little boy.

My dad was about 9 or 10 years old and he was riding his bicycle along some trails in the woods.  It was just starting to get dark and he was hurrying to get home before it was full dark to avoid the probable spanking he would have gotten from my lovely but tough grandma.

He was pushing those pedals so fast, standing up when riding (you know who that was when you would ride hell for leather on your back using every muscle you could to go faster) and suddenly he saw a skunk in the path.

Dad slammed on the brakes and came to a complete stop, right next to the skunk.  Because of the sudden stop, dad fell over on top of the skunk.

He got home and grandma met him at the door with the paddle because he was late (again).  She started go go toward him and then caught a whiff of Eau de Skunk.  She got in her car and drove to the store and bought all the tomato juice she could find.

She stripped my dad down in the yard, burned his clothes and gave him a good scrubbing with the tomato juice.  She still made him sleep on the front porch for a few days until the lingering stink wore off his body.

So to my friend, Bluesun.....   be careful with those critters.

Herding Hermit Crabs????

Shortly after my better half and I were married, he bought me an Australian Cattle Dog, otherwise known as a Blue Heeler.  His name was Patch.

That was my darling boy.  He was a very loyal companion, though a little obsessive.  I could not walk out of the room without him following me, and I couldn't walk across the room without his watching my every move.

He was very protective and his herding instinct was great.  He would herd the kids and try to even herd me, though asserting my dominance early on, he knew better than to do that often.  He was probably one of the most intelligent dogs that I've ever known.

Over at Lagniappe's Lair there are great stories about Murphy the beautiful German Shepherd.  More specifically, about Murphy's recent swimming adventures.

This of course reminds me of Patch and his love of the water.  It's a bit unusual for a herding dog to love water like that, but Patch really did.

We would be down at the creek and Patch would get hot and decide to go for a swim, or simply lay in the creek.  If I went kayaking, I had to really be careful because Patch would almost always swim out to my boat and try and follow me.  I didn't want him to tire out, so I would have to send him ashore and tell him to stay, which he would, reluctantly.  He didn't like that though, especially once I got out of his sight, but he would sit there and wait for me to return, ever so faithfully.

The first time that the hubby and I took Patch on the boat and to the cut, (where the end of the creek meets the Gulf of Mexico), he loved it.  He was about 5 months old and in short order proved himself to be just like his mommy (me) a salty dog.  We are called salty dogs because the salt water is in our blood and we are drawn to it and we thrive in it.

So, we beached the boat and as I was setting anchor, Patch jumped out of the boat.  He ran up and down the beach, in and out of the water, chasing and biting at the waves.  He was having a grand old time until he noticed something funny in the water that looked they were lost.......   about 20 hermit crabs walking along the bottom.

Patch, being the helpful pup that he was, was in water up to his chest, and yet he dunked his entire head, eyeballs, nose and ears (well the tips were still out of the water) under the water and gathered up each hermit crab one by one and piled them up on the shore.  Once he had the vast majority of the poor things, he laid down behind his pile of displaced crabs and watched them.

After a few minutes, the crabs, thinking that the coast was clear, would come out of their shell and start to make their escape back into the water.  Patch would immediately jump to his feet and give them a little bark, which would drive them back into their shells.  Every now and then, Patch would get distracted and one would make his escape and would get almost to the water.  Patch would run and scoop him up in mouth and bring him back.

He was something else and every now and then, I miss him terribly.  About three years ago, I had to put Patch down because he snapped at my grandbaby and I wasn't going to take the chance that he would bite her.  He was starting to even get cranky with me so I had to make the hardest decision of my life.  He was 10 years old but I will say that he did have a very good life.  He was loved.

Pussyfooting Around

This past Thursday before I left for the Creek House, I noticed that Miss Kitty's right-rear paw had a slight injury. She seemed to be okay and wasn't, at the time, favoring that foot.

Friday, my brother stopped by the house to feed Miss Kitty and my dog Penny and noticed that she was had a slight limp and that her paw seemed to be a little swollen.

Saturday, by the time I got home, the vet was closed and poor Miss Kitty's foot was really swollen and she was limping really bad. I knew the poor thing didn't feel well because she was uncharacteristically cuddly. She wanted to be close, which is not even close to normal for her.

I put Neosporin on her foot which she almost immediately licked off but it was better than doing nothing for her.

On Sunday her foot looked a little better but it was starting to ooze blood and goo. At this point, I knew she had an infection or an abscess but the color of her gums were still nice and pink and her nose was still cold and damp.

Yesterday morning I called the vet first thing and got an appointment for her to be looked at and treated. Her appointment was in the afternoon so that gave me time to develop a plan of action so that I could get her to the vet without incident.

Miss Kitty was laying on top of a table in the living and luckily the cat carrier was not in its usual place but was close enough by that I could sneak the carrier to her before she could get away.

Miss Kitty has figured out long ago that the carrier means either a very long car ride to the creek or a trip to a place where they stick needles in you, put foreign objects into your ears and worse yet, into your ass.

So, I sneak up on Miss Kitty with the carrier as quietly as I could but of course, when I opened the carrier, she was clued in and tried to hobble away. Thanks to her injury she was unable to escape and I grabbed her by the scruff of the neck to avoid being clawed and bitten, and put her into the carrier.

She immediately starts meowing that poor, pitiful, get me out of here meow and I picked her up and carted her off to the vet.

Miss Kitty is terrified of the vet and typically she will sit on the exam table, ejecting fur and drooling. Yes, drooling. Yesterday, rather than drool, Miss Kitty simply sat there ejecting fur, looking wide eyed because I think deep down she knew that she was about to go through something humiliating.

So after weighing her in at 11.5 pounds, the doctor comes into the room and the vet tech picks her up by the scruff of the neck, supporting her backside, so that the doc could examine her foot. It's at this point that Miss Kitty begins spitting and hissing and giving this really deep, "Don't fuck with me" growl.

They took her to the back to soak her foot in medicine and clean it up so he can have a better look. They also ran a Feline Leukemia and FIV (feline AIDS) test on her. I could hear her back there screaming and hissing and the occasional 'ouch' coming from an unsuspecting technician.

When they returned Miss Kitty she was wrapped up in a towel like a burrito and she was PISSED OFF! They put her on the table again and she sat there giving me the stink eye. Thinking that the ordeal was over, Miss Kitty began to settle back down again and I was petting her and she began to purr.

I felt bad for her as they had shaved her foot and squeezed some of the blood and goo out of the wound, which as I suspected, had abscessed and of course she got an injection of a nice, strong antibiotic. Things were calming down and Miss Kitty was getting calmer and calmer, then the doctor remembered that he forgot something......... to take her temperature.

At this point, I can imagine Miss Kitty laying there thinking that she managed to escape the vet office without having something shoved up her ass, and just as she thinks she's escaped that humiliation the vet raises her tail.

It was then that my cat stopped sounding like a cat and started sounding like a Tasmanian Devil. He raised her tail and she gave off this awful sound, he sticks the thermometer in and the sound suddenly becomes higher pitched. She starts hissing and spitting until it's over with.

After that, I put her back in her cage so she would have no doubt that it was all over with. $269.00 later, Miss Kitty is well on the mend and we know that she is Leukemia and FIV free.

She goes back in 2 weeks to get her shots, she's due anyway. Something tells me that I will have to figure something nice and tricky out to get her into her cage again. Should be fun.

The Honeymoon is over.....

As my better half informed you all, Miss Kitty ran off Romeo when I went outside the other night.  Because my man was not there, he could not give you the funnier details of the whole thing.

I was sitting on the couch surfing the web when I could hear the growling, hissing and spitting going on outside in the back yard.  At this point, I know that either Romeo or Casanova was outside once again trying to woo Miss Kitty.

I peeked out the window and sure enough it was Romeo, in the grass looking up at his Juliet on the table top which is attached to the grill.  His Juliet was none too happy at this annoying, horny Romeo bothering her, yet again.

I decided that the best way to intervene was to open the back door and chase Romeo off, what I didn't expect was Miss Kitty to leap her Rubenesque (Miss Kitty weighs 15 pounds) body over the grill, into the grass and end up hot on his heels.

The chase was on, Romeo whom I've decided is none too bright, ended up trapped in front of the shed, by the rose bush.  Not even a second later, Miss Kitty was on him, claws out, fur flying.  Poor Romeo didn't know what hit him.

Eventually, Romeo broke free and hauled ass up and over the wood fence.  Miss Kitty was standing guard growling that low, don't fuck with me growl, Romeo no doubt shaking in his puss'n boots.

Isn't love grand?  Ha!   I think it's safe to say that the honeymoon is over.

Memories

There are certain things that I do that take me back to when I was growing up and things that make me feel my father's presence.

Playing golf is one of those things.  When I get out on the course, I always feel close to dad, but I only play golf once a year maybe twice but I do enjoy it, I just don't take the time.

Recently, I've discovered that being at the range reminds me of dad and makes me feel close to him once again.  I used to go to the range with him when I was a little girl, he was the one that bought my first rifle for my 10th birthday.  It was a sweet little Daisy .22 semi automatic.  I sold it when I had my oldest daughter because I was paranoid about having a gun in the house with a baby (dumb on my part, I'd give up the Tokorev to have that gun back now).

The Tokorev was originally my uncle's then given to my dad and when dad passed away, mom gave it to me.  So I guess the reason that I've been so enthralled with that gun lately is that not only is holding and firing it like having a piece of history at my fingertips, but I've been in awe of that gun ever since I can remember.

My dad used to take it and shoot it at the very gun range where I took it and shot.  I felt him there with me that day and it felt pretty good.  It's really strange how something that's viewed (by idiots) as violent (guns) can be comforting to us in a small way.

I never really realized that when I took that gun out on the range that I would feel that closeness to my father.  Now that I know this, I know that I will go there much more often and I can't wait.

As for today, I'm going to the pistol range again range fees are 1/2 price today starting at 3pm.  I'm going to fire both the M&P and the XDM again.

Dive bombed.......

I had pulled into the neighborhood on my way home from work today when I saw this poor cat walking along the sidewalk being dive-bombed by a nesting mockingbird.

Mockingbirds are the Texas state bird, not sure why we chose the mockingbird, other than they are, by nature ornery and very territorial.

That poor cat was trying to get away from the diving bird and all I could do is laugh as it reminded me of a time I had with my dad.

My father loved a good prank, he pulled numbers on everyone.  If you knew dad, there was no escaping a prank from him.  Even if you were a cat.

My mom's cat, Corkey was walking across the street and was getting dive-bombed by, you guessed it, a mockingbird.  Dad and I were in the front yard sitting in lawn chairs, laughing as poor Corkey was trying to escape the birds.

Finally, the cat makes it to cover, which unfortunately for him, was under my dad's lawn chair.  With a twinkle in his eye and a wink, daddy got Corkey out from under the chair and hauled him back out to the street and ran away laughing.

Poor Corkey had to escape the bird again.  At least he was smart enough to go under the car instead of dad's chair.

My dad was a character, but before you think that he was a mean person, just know that he was an amazing man who loved his family and loved his friends.  I cannot think of a single person that knew my dad that didn't like him.  He passed away in 96 of cancer and there's not a day that passes by that I don't miss him.

This post started to be about...

My Berreta 20 gage semi-auto shotgun, which comes home from the gunshop tomorrow. Funny how you can't separate the history of a fire arm from the simple fact that it's fixed and back in action.

I was 12 or so when my Dad gave it to me for my birthday, or was it christmas, I forget.

My uncle owned the same gun. He is the kind of guy that will take a 410 and hit 24 out of 25 clay pigeons shooting trap, turn around and tell you that was so good it was scary. He backed me while I was shooting his Berreta, with his single shot 410, when I missed he powdered it.

We'd been down at his house in Alvin Texas shooting trap in his backyard. The cows in the field beyond the barbwire fence were pretty good about moving yonder after the first shot. We had a great time shooting his 20 gage Berreta that day. It was light, and would rip off three shots in no time flat. I did pretty well, not having shot trap before. I've not yet had the black eye from a scope on a rifle, but I did manage to plant my sweaty cheek againt the stock that day and felt like the side of my face had been removed.

My uncle chuckled.

I suspect my uncle suggested to my dad he should get me one. I believe that shotgun cost about $250 in 1972,

I've had that shotgun 40 years now. Somewhere along the line, the bolt quit locking on the Berreta and it was resigned to the closet. I'd graduated to a 12 gage goose gun with a 42" barrel, hunted geese in 18 degree weather, gone off to College Station to college, married once, divorced, married again, two children, divorced again, and then I found the Lovely Southern Belle.

As you've noticed, she's gotten a bee in her bonnet (or a bullet up her...er, nevermind) to start shooting again. So she up and decides she going to take the Tokorev svt40 she inherited from her Dad, to the gun shop to have it checked out. So, I figured as long as she was going, the Berreta should go too. Day before yesterday, the guy at Jim Pruitt's gun shop called to let her know they were ready. He seemed genuinely pleased to report that they both fire reeeal nice. Southern Belle was salivating tonight over the thought of shooting my Berreta. I've seen that look in her eyes before. I made it quite clear that the 20 gage is still mine. I've had a few things that have graduated from my possession to hers.

I'll take an aside here to gloat, if you can ever find a woman that will fish with you, play video games with you, watch sports (actually she likes watching baseball more than I do) and likes guns, You had better buy the biggest diamond ring you can find. Eat your hearts out.

So, anyway, She's going by Pruitt's tomorrow to pick up the hardware. No snarky comments, she works 10 minutes from the house, Pruitt's is maybe 15 minutes, I work 26 miles down the worst freeway in the Houston metroplex. A good day is a 1hour commute one way.

We are going trap shooting soon!

Karma

It's been a while since I've told a story here and considering the doom and gloom that is happening in the world today, I think that we could all use a little diversion.

I am a sucker for a lost or stray animal.  Every now and then, there will be a dog that has gotten out of his yard and I always feel compelled to get the dog to safety, bring it home, and then track down its owner.  Of course this is a very annoying trait of mine and my hubby will confirm that he gets annoyed when I do that.

One day, about 7 or 8 years ago, my neighbor's toy poodle, Turbo, got out of their yard and was just sitting on their front porch barking to get inside.  I went over to their house and knocked on the door, there was no answer so like a good neighbor, I brought Turbo home and waited for the neighbors to get home.

Turbo, for some reason fell in love with my youngest daughter, who was 8 or 9 at the time.  He followed her all around the house and every time she sat down, Turbo would start humping on her leg.  My youngest was getting fed up with it and I was busy trying to keep myself from laughing out loud.

Finally, enough was enough and my youngest yells at the top of her lungs, "MOM!  Can you PLEASE get this dog away from me!  He has fallen in love with my leg!"

My son, who at the time was 10 or 11, said to her, "Well Sis, that's Karma for you!"

Without missing a beat my daughter yells, "KARMA!!!  What do you mean KARMA?!  I've never humped anybody's leg!!!!"

Out of the mouth of babes.  I don't know what impressed me more, her quick wit (she takes after her mother, ha ha) or the fact that she actually knew the meaning of the word Karma.

Kids have a way of expressing themselves that can sometimes really make you either laugh or say, "huh?"

Showdown at the Doggie Door

Well, Romeo has really gone too far this time.

Lately, he's taken to trying to woo Miss Kitty in the backyard.  I guess Romeo decided that boxing through the window in the front yard was no longer satisfying so instead, he prefers getting up close and personal.

Well, Miss Kitty isn't having anything like that.  Today, she was outside sunning herself on the back porch and Romeo shows up and ruins her kitty girl-time at the day spa.  Miss Kitty runs through the doggie door and Romeo tries to follow her inside.

Romeo was trying to come in the door, Miss Kitty was batting him away, it was beautiful.  Nothing like a lovely female defending her home!

Poor Miss Kitty.  Her refuge is no longer safe.