Getting used to the idea

I've got some soup in the microwave right now. As I was stirring it, I looked over and saw THREE hopeful faces watching my every move.

Oh well - the idea of one of them being a little black guy doesn't really bother me. And I suppose it is one of Mr. Abby's redeeming qualities that he gathers up all the homeless dogs.

SIGH.

Mr. Abby thinks we should call him "Gunny." I think that's a little dweeby, but would be amenable to the more familiar "Guns." I can think of all sorts of hysterical things we could call him, but even we live in an at least slightly PC world.

But I also think "Satchel" would be cool. After Satchel Paige - the Negro League baseball player.

Husbands gone wild...

You know, occasionally I find myself envying women whose men, when traveling, like to hang out in strip clubs, chase women and run wild.

Not mine. Oh no.

So I get this phone call. From a mildly inebriated Mr. Abby. He rambled on for a while about what a nice day his professional development class had at their picnic. Rambled on about the scenery and the potato salad.

Then, "Umm...I've got something to tell you. I'm bringing someone home with me."

I paused. "I'm not sure how to respond to that, honey."

"He's black. And tall. Well, he's not tall, but he will be."

"Oh Jesus Christ, did you find a Great Dane or something?"

"Noooo...a lab puppy."

"Are you fucking serious?"

"They said they were gonna put him to sleep!"

Sigh. So apparently, my goddam husband fell victim to some couple with a two-month-old lab pup that they found, and can't keep, and were going to take to the Shelter O' Death. So Mr. Abby, knowing that his wife loves all the dogs, said he'd take him.

I really don't feel the need for a third dog. Two is enough. But I love big black dogs, and we're easy touches, so we'll have a new Bad Dog here in a couple of weeks. I suppose, since our lives are already totally ruled by the dogs we've got, another one isn't really going to add that much headache.

But for the love of God - if I get another "I have to tell you something" phone call, it'd better involve cheap floozies and not something I'm going to have to take to the vet, housebreak and take for walks.

Barking at the Navy

I watched the Blue Angels show from the backyard earlier. They were, of course, highly cool.

Sparky has apparently decided that his official position is one that requires barking at low-flying jets. That was irritating. Kinda funny at first, since he barks and hops around in a small circle, but ultimately annoying as Hell.

Casey ignored the flights (hard to believe - you'd think with ears that big that she'd be hiding in the bedroom).

Dog Cousin Allie wasn't exactly sure what she was supposed to do. She barked with Sparky a little, but didn't really seem to get into it. In the end, she just layed next to my chair on the back porch and watched the world go by.

The park is packed still with folks who watched the airshow from there, but in a couple hours when it clears out, I think I'll take the pack down for a spin.

I hate cleaning

But Cousin R is dropping by to deliver Dog Cousin Allie, who I will be dogsitting for a few days. So I had to do something about the place. It looked a little like someone had decided to open an ammunition store/kennel.

It still looks like that, but now it looks like the sort of place where you'd actually go for all your ammunition and dog boarding needs.

"I got yer 5.56 62-grain penetrator on stripper clips, and I got a squeaky 'possum fer the little guy. You want I should bag 'em together or separate?"

Perhaps I have a future in this...

I cannot wait to get out of this place.

This is cool

I went to Ye Olde Liquor Store today, since I was out of liquor (logical, hey?). I was wandering around the wine aisles, looking for something to try, and spotted this:



I am familiar with Guy Harvey shirts . I make Mr. Abby wear them, because they make him Extra Handsome (they're well-made, too. I recommend them if you're into such things). I did not know he'd somehow weaseled his way onto a wine bottle.

I'm a fan, so it came home with me. I hope it doesn't suck.

Setback #1

On the old Not Smoking road. That would be putting on my belt and discovering I had to inhale to use my regular hole.

WTF????

Of course, all though I've "quitting" for all of 36 hours, I blame this shocking occurance on that (instead of, perhaps, the fact I haven't crapped in like 4 days).

So I am now sitting on the couch eating a tobacco plant. The entire thing. I'm also sucking down a pack of Lucky Strikes and I have an entire tin of Copenhagen jammed betwixt my cheek and gum.

Disturbing the peace

There I was, laying in bed this morning, trying to ignore the Bad Dogs (who wanted OUT!). I was forced out of half-sleep by ungodly jet noise from the Air Base.

Whuh? I was groggy, yes, but this was loud. Very loud. There's an airshow at the base this weekend, so I just decided it was some aircraft I wasn't used to hearing and went back to sleep.

Later, I cruised to Publix. I've still got the top down, and thus could clearly hear the sound coming again. Looked up (so was everyone else on the road - it was a dangerous ten seconds or so).

Ahhhh....that explained it. Unless the Thunderbirds have changed their colors, we have the Blue Angels in town.

I'd talk more about this, but Bill Whittle already did it, and he puts this better than anyone I've ever read on the subject. If you've got a few spare days, you really ought to wander over to his place and read the essays.

They taxied to the end of the runway, took off in a roar, and disappeared out over the turquoise and green reefs. Spectacular! Great show! Not sure it was worth two hours, and that one guy down there won’t stop talking…

"Launched on May 25th, 1953…powerful symbol of the American Indian…never missed a show due to maintenance problems, blah blah blah..."

Hey, thought the five-year-old, the jets are gone, show’s over, let’s get out of the heat...

But behind my back were six of America’s most powerful fighter aircraft and the best pilots on the planet, not a hundred feet above the water and racing toward the rear of our bleachers at nearly seven hundred miles an hour – just under the speed of sound. And I mean just under.

So when I looked down at this man in the blue jumpsuit, I couldn’t hear them coming, because they were only a few feet behind their own roar. And when he said, “Ladies and Gentlemen, the United States Air Force---“ something caught my eye at what seemed like a few feet above my head. I saw a blur of silver and red, white and blue, and that’s about all I had time for, because the man shouted into his microphone the word “---THUNDERBIRDS!" and that’s when the sound hit.

And that was about all she wrote for little Billy. I was pretty much done after that.

Anyway, that's the sound I've gotten all day, and will get throughtout the weekend. Which is cool. I can see it a thousand times, and fighters just always make me grin.

In related news, Sparky disapproves of loud jets and has decided he'll bark at them. That is getting annoying.

Movie Night

So I watched "Jesus Camp." Then I watched "Children of Men." Frankly, I was hoping for more out of that one.

Now I'm on "Blood Diamond." I'm morally opposed to Leonardo DiC- Dicca- Leonardo Whatever. But I heard this was good.

Thus far, the money line? It comes as Leo is chatting up a reporter in a bar.

Leo: Let's go back to your place and see what's in the minibar.
Chick: I'm a print journalist. I drank it.

Based on my encounters with journalists of all stripes...yep. That's about right.

Good God...

I'm watching a movie called "Jesus Camp," which seems to be about...nutbag evangelical Christians in Missouri.

Full of conversations with nine-year-olds in which they recycle whatever garbage they're being fed by their youth pastors. And they have picked the nutty ones.

They're talking right now to some little blond girl who just said, "my favorite music is like Christian heavy metal and rock and roll..."

Oh, honey, let's talk to you again in six years.

I'm not a religous individual. I try to respect the beliefs of others (that is, I don't refer to anyone's God as "Santa Claus" in front public). But I'm also a big fan of moderation, and religious nuts of all sorts creep me out.

These folks, who've dreamed up a Jesus-based Pledge of Allegiance that they can recite before beginning their homeschool day to study how God created the earth 6,000 years ago... Ugh.

That's just creepy, and I don't care who you are.

UPDATE - Goodness. The youth pastors are now praying over the projector for their PowerPoint presentation. It was kind of touching and sweet, until they started speaking in tongues.

But I think I can agree with them that Satan invades meetings regularly via digital projectors.

UPDATE II -- Okay, it's done. These people deserve only my ridicule. And I quote, "and had it been in the Old Testament, Harry Potter would have been put to death!"

You don't like Harry Potter, you suck. End of story. I will continue to watch, but will share no more of this "Jesus Camp."

UPDATE III -- I lied! Rev. Ted Haggard (a perennial favorite of mine) is in the movie, preaching morality and spiritual warfare.

Florida - not sucking

After I banished the weird nicotine demons this morning (drowned 'em in French Roast, I did), I figured I needed to get out of the house.

It's been fabulous weather here lately, and I've got the top down on the Jeep. I'm not thinking I'll be putting it up again very soon, either.

Anyway, I figured I'd go to the beach and lay around, get a little sun.

I put on the bathing suit, then some shorts and a shirt. Then I realized I had a larger-than-a-silver-dollar size patch on my arm. So I moved it to my ass.

Went to the store, got some magazines, cold water, fruit salad and ice for the cooler.

Went to the beach, got some good sun. Saw a gal with the world's cutest little white female boxer. Read.

Abby, you ask, what did you read?

Duh. Guns & Ammo and Cosmo.

Ugh...

Okay...so about the nicotine patch. I picked up a packet yesterday at the exchange. I just passed a very long night, so let's take a look at the instructions again, shall we?

Some of the notes:

- nicotine can increase your heartbeat. OK - that explains the heart racing all night.
- if you have vivid dreams or sleep disturbances, you may remove the patch at bedtime and apply a new one in the morning. I didn't sleep more than 45 minutes continuously at any point. But the vivid dreams weren't all bad.
- while wearing the path, you may experience one or more of the following side effects: nausea (not yet - not inclined), dizziness (nope), dry mouth (oh yes, and let me tell you about my boogers!), diarrhea (great), nervousness or restlessness (fabulous), headache (not yet), vivid dreams or other sleep disturbances (yee-haw!), and irritabiliy (like anyone would notice).

I think I'm going to go to Starbucks now...

Jesus. In bed for nine hours, thrashing the whole time checking the clock, and the strangest shit dancing through my head. I'm giving this another night, then I'm going to try sleeping without it.

Cleaning the fridge

...Bad Dog style.

I ran out of wet dog food, so I cooked up a big pan of chicken hearts and livers last night. I gave them about half of it tonight, then, as I was putting the rest away, I tripped.

Launching hearts, livers and associated juices over the entire lower half of my (open) refrigerator.

Why, yes - there was swearing. Imagine that!

Anyway. I pulled the drawers and picked up the hearts and livers, and was left with juice and nastiness. I looked down at Casey. Casey looked up at me.

I grabbed on of my (oh so few) remaining cigarettes and headed out the back door.



Talk about saving time and energy. After she was done, it was just a matter of a little 409 and a wipedown.

Hey! Casey, goddammit!



I said the bottom! Clean out the bottom! Do not eat my cheese!

Twitchy...

I've been waking up with that heaviness in my chest. Not coughing, just heavy.

Last week I was running around the park. I was sucking wind - hard. I thought, "Jesus, this sucks."

Then I realized I had a carton of Marlboros at the house. As I ran along, I thought, "why don't I just finish that carton and call it good?"

I've been smoking Marlboro Reds for...12 years? Something like that. And I am not a light smoker.

So I decided that's what I'd do. Finish the carton, and that would be it. I won't buy any more.

Well, here I am with 16 cigarettes left in the last pack. I stopped at the pharmacy and bought jawbreakers, mints and sugarless gum. I also bought one pack of Marlboro Ultralights.

At some point in the next 24-36 hours, I'll be out of my faithful Reds. I've been practicing some, not taking cigarettes when I leave the house (because smoking and driving, folks, that is the best). I'll stretch the end of the Reds as long as I can.

Then I'll stretch the pack of Ultralights as long as I can. Hey - if I can make them last two weeks, that's fine.

But I think I may be able to do this. There's nobody here to receive the full force of my bitchiness other than the dogs, so that's a definite plus.

So...if the rants here take on a certain...enraged and bitter tone, you've been warned.

Sunday Gasping

So after I wore the Bad Dogs out, I took off for a little run. The weather is great, actually a little warm and sunny.

Did some sprinting mixed in with about three miles. It made for some serious sweating. But a good time.

Now - a shower and WalMart run seems in order.

Sunday Stroll

Agh!!!!

PUT. YOUR. DAMN. DOG. ON. A. DAMN. LEASH. Jesus H. Christ.

Particularly if you have THREE DOGS.

There's a spot near the house about three blocks long that runs behind some vacant lots. It's a nice place to take the dogs for a brief walk, because our sidewalks suck and I can let them all the way out on their extendo-leashes. So we walked down that path and to the very end of the area. I turned them around and noted a woman with two large pit-type dogs and one rat dog had wandered into the area. Of course, no leashes, and the dogs were NOT under voice control.

(Hint - if you're yelling at your dog and it's ignoring you, it's not under control)

One of the pit types came wandering up to the Bad Dogs (as I was walking to a spot where I could cut back over to the sidewalk). She was a Good Dog and they all made friends. I was in the process of dragging mine away, when the rat dog came tearing at us, barking hysterically. Casey set up to do a swoop-and-tackle intercept, but I wrestled her back to my legs. The rat dog continued to follow us, barking, while its person yelled at it from 50 yards away.

Listen, lady, my dog was set up to kick your dog's ass. Because your dog has no manners.

Now, Casey is a little lacking in the manners department. She does well off-leash with other dogs, but she is very into being the Alpha Female, and will kick asses to make that point. I recongnize that not everyone is cool with my dog laying a little pecking-order whupass on theirs, so I keep mine on a leash.

Idiots. Of course, this forced us to walk home via the narrow, crappy sidewalk instead of the nice grassy open area. Not that we're bitter.

Saturday Stuff

I'm involved in another at-home gunsmithing project from Hell, so I'll keep this brief (for now).

A couple in Kentucky (where else?) were arrested for trying to exchange a toddler for $3,000 and an SUV.

Huh. I don't really care for children, but the question I had immediately was...what kind of SUV?

Listen - I entirely understand not liking children very much. But folks, if you don't want children, don't have them. Once you've got them, you have to keep them. You also have to not abuse them, starve them, pimp them, drug them or chain them in the basement for periods exceeding a few hours.

With all the miracles of modern birth control, there's no reason that people who obviously have no interest in raising children should have them.

Pet food

Oh yeah - about this.

My dogs eat Pedigree canned food to "spice up" their healthy crunchy food. So we have no been affected by this.

But this sucks. CNN has been featuring a family that lost their precious bullmastiff to this contamination. I cannot describe the anger I'd feel if this had happened to my dog (or even to Sparky).

And I know cat people like their cats, so that's unacceptable, too.

And now it looks like rat poison?

Unfortunately, the pet food production process is...nasty. And I bet it will take some time to figure out how this happened. But it needs to be run down. And if someone put the rat poison in on purpose - then they need to be ripped apart by jackals.

Oh - the spider

The damn thing has gone into hiding. I finally had to call it a night around 0345, but was up until 0430 or so, worried about feeling its nasty, hairy spider feet walking across my legs.

And I'm a little concerned because it's described as a "hunting" spider. What the Hell does it hunt? We don't have an insect infestation that could have lured it in (I kill about two roaches a year in here). Plus, it's BIG. I'm concerned it might be hunting SPARKY.

You know, I only really mind these things in the house. Because they're everywhere outside. Check this out.

I was on a very cool trip a few years ago (Madagascar). Our guide, one night, showed us what he obviously thought was the neatest thing. After dark, when there's dew on the tall grass, he'd shine a flashlight across it. And you'd see all the sparkly little points. Little dew drops, right?

Negative, ghostrider. Many of those little sparkly points are spider eyes. Big old wolf-spider-looking spiders. With eyes. Watching.

How horrifying. I've been uncomfortable peeing in the tall grass at night ever since.

I did make a point of demonstrating this to the stepkids. They weren't sure whether it was cool or terrifying. Me neither.

Not a good neighbor

Well. Iran is at it again. They snatched up 15 Brits.

The Royal Marines and ordinary naval officers were believed to have been apprehended by up to six ships from the Iranian Revolutionary Guard Corps Navy who claimed they had violated Iranian waters

Of course, it really does not look like they invaded anything.

I have to admit I was a little perturbed to pull up the CNN home page this morning and saw the pet food issue was placed more prominently on the page.

I hate this shit. The enemy we face is a pack of savages. All they understand is force. They can certainly read between the lines when we dither, vacillate and wring our hands over this sort of utterly unacceptable behavior.

The British military is very, very good. As is ours. Those 15 Sailors and Royal Marines need to be "recovered" with extreme predjudice. Like yesterday. To not do so sends a dangerous message.

Dangerous men in black are available and ought to be tasked to rectify this situation immediately. Playing the diplomatic game with this nest of vipers may be alright in regards to Iran's nuclear program, but the seizure of personnel belonging to our ally...that sort of behavior warrants a real response.

Standoff

So I got back from the Clenched-Ass Run From Hell. And I was sitting around, watching a movie. For some reason I glanced out toward the kitchen. And saw it.



A goddam wolf spider. From the University of Florida, we know the following:

Wolf spiders belong to the family Lycosidae. They are very common and usually found on the ground, where they are well-camouflaged. The Carolina wolf spider (Lycosa carolinensis), at 25 mm to 35 mm, is the largest in the United States. These spiders do not spin webs but some dig burrows or hide under debris. Like other hunting spiders, they have good eyesight and are sensitive to vibrations.

They're not poisonous, but this little fucker is on borrowed time. Please understand - this spider is as large or larger than the round fired by the chain gun on the AH-64 Apache attack helicopter. I'm all about the happy animals, but I cannot sleep while there is some sort of enormous nocturnal hunting spider roaming my house.

Now, these are clever spiders. We had a couple of them move in...I dunno. A while ago. I explained to Mr. Abby that if he did not kill them, I would shoot them. With a shotgun. In the house.

Upon further reflection, that's probably not technically the best way for me to handle this. Most effective and gratifying - certainly. But I think there would be paperwork.

My next preferred method is the vaccuum. However, the vaccuum is right next to the loveseat, under which the Beast seems to have established its Giant Spider Forward Operating Base. I will not be lured in that easily.

So I need a whacking tool. And one that does not require me to get close to the Beast. Magazines are out.

- CRAP! - I just got up to locate a whacking tool. I was thinking of my five-gallon plastic water can. But I forgot that because I am prepared (stupid hurricane-prone Florida), it's full. Five gallons of water weighs 40 pounds. I can certainly carry it, but I cannot chase a spider around the house, swinging it wildly.

So - scratch that part about whacking it. I bravely approached the loveseat and took charge of the vaccuum. When the Beast shows itself...well, people, it will be game on.

Once I suck it up, I have some loose birdshot that I will suck up in order to ensure it is deader'n shit. I learned that from my Mom. Suck 'em up, pelt 'em, then put the vaccuum outside. Giant spiders are like zombies - you can't be too sure that they're gonna stay dead.

It may be a long night here at BDC, because I am NOT sleeping while this thing is in the house.