You Know it's a Bad Day When you Lose your Balls and you Have a Cone for a Head

I spent some time at my mother's house this past weekend.  The family dog, Brody, just had his balls chopped off and his dew claws removed so he was forced to wear a cone around his neck.  Poor guy.

I don't know what would be worse- losing your balls or having to maneuver around the house with a cone for a head.

He'd run into corners and my mom had to pull the coffee table away from the couch because his head couldn't fit through the space when he tried to walk there. Then frustration set in when he couldn't find a comfortable way to sleep and each time he'd throw himself down as if to say, I give up!

I couldn't stop laughing whenever I heard the plastic cone hit the couch, the window, my legs, the refrigerator....

Poor. Cute. Brody. 

Our Mutt the Sun Goddess

Our dog Maddy, as you have read about before, is kind of a character.  We have figured out though that she is pretty smart as well.

My husband and I are currently staying at my in-law's house while they are in Florida.  The temperature in the house is set at 69 degrees and at times there can be a chill in the air.  The main bathroom has heated tile and our dog figured this out pretty quickly.

So at night, instead of sleeping close to our bed like usual, she sleeps in the bathroom on the warm tile.

Sometimes she won't even move when we walk in the room.  She will just look at us like, "How DARE you bother me while I slumber."  If you know Maddy, that is so out of character.

I think that just as God created me for the cold weather, Maddy was made to enjoy heat.  Florida suited her, poor thing.

On Sunday I had a chill. Crazy right? So I decided to give the tile floor a try.  I sat on the bathroom floor for a half hour and read a book.  It worked! 

I could learn a thing or two from that wise mutt. 

Evil Worm Fish = Uncontrollable Urination

When my sister was little, she loved animals.  Along with multiple hamsters, Ashley collected exotic fish and creatures for her aquarium.  She had albino see-through frogs, really cool fish that had bulges and the worm fish.

The person at the store assured Ashley that the worm fish was vegetarian and that all of her fish would be safe.  But, from the first moment I laid eyes on that worm, eel-like thing, I called it evil.  I hated it.  I just knew that when I slept it would find its way up to my room to bite me.

My mother arrived in Ashley's room one day and found that the worm fish was half way out of the tank (on its way to bite me).  My mother, who herself was freaked out by the devil fish, sent Ashley to retrieve a glove so she could poke it back in the aquarium.  While Ashley was on her errand, the eel fell on the floor and my mom, after a scream or two, peed her pants.

She couldn't blame this on age.  It was from pure fright.  I think if a grey, squirming creature was attacking me, I would pee my pants too.  

After Ashley found a glove, (and rubbed in the fact that her mother, a grown up, had peed her pants,) they somehow shoved the eel back in the aquarium.

Sometime later Ashley started noticing that her fish were disappearing.  My family couldn't figure out which of the fish were eating the others.  They had it in their heads that it was the bottom feeder.  Duh.

One day one of my siblings caught the evil thing with an albino frog leg hanging out of its mouth. We placed it in a different bowl and it died a day or two afterward from reasons unknown.  I think it was possessed.

RIP devil fish.  Good riddance.

60-Year-Old Zeus

When Lynn and I were first married we took a trip to Florida with my family for vacation. One evening we walked the beach and passed by one of the most interesting men I have ever met.

I don't remember his name, but this middle-aged man wore a leopard print Speedo, had long wavy hair, a hairy chest with beads dangling to his belly and his cheeks were freckled from the sun.

We learned that he was walking the beach because he loved watching the turtles lay eggs.

"I love all living things," he said. "I am Zeus, Buddha, Jesus, John the Baptist and Paul. I died on the cross. I control the seas. I love all creatures."

We asked him what he meant by that. He said that he is eternity and he has been reincarnated hundreds of times.

"It is all about the love, man. Love. I would never harm a single person. I have never hated anyone."

As the conversation continued, we realized that this man may have some issues. Lynn, finding his rantings ridiculous, said, "So, what if I punched you right now? Would you still feel the love?"

The man just smiled.

He made me think. Love is not all gumdrops and rainbows. Love can be difficult to do.

It is an action.

When someone punches you in the jaw, it could mean turning your cheek to him also. Or, if it was my sister, it could mean a wrestling match. I am just sayin'.

Sunsets, Silence, Space

Oh Indiana! I have missed you. While I was on the home stretch after 18 hours of driving from Florida to Indiana, the sun was setting ahead of me and I was surrounded by fields on every side. I realized three of the things that I have been lacking.

1. Sunsets
2. Silence
3. Space

Now, after my first weekend in Indiana, I remember why I appreciate this state so much.

I walked my dog on a trail behind my in-laws house and two horses in the neighboring field ran up to the fence to greet me. I said hello and stared at them for awhile. When I started walking, they walked along side me. I stopped again and they stopped as well to stare at me. I wonder if they could tell that I had been a city girl and they thought that I needed an escort while walking in the country?

I also went to a laundromat this weekend. I had a wonderful conversation with a stranger there. She knew who I was through Lynn's family and we talked about life. That would not happen in Orlando.

On Saturday when we unloaded the moving truck that I had just helped to pack a few days earlier (ugh), three of Lynn's brothers and one of his nephews helped us unload without being asked. It was so refreshing to experience that type of community again.

I have saved the best experience for last- I haven't locked my car doors since I have been here. When it is parked in the driveway, I leave the keys in the ignition. When I parked at the laundromat, it was unlocked. I can't tell you how that feels. It is like I can relax again.

Headless Chickens and Romanian Seinfeld

In high school I spent one month in Romania working in an orphanage. During my time there I worked regularly in a soup kitchen but was commissioned, one day, to go with my friend Rachel to pluck headless chickens on a Romanian farm.

When we arrived at the farm, we were greeted by a dusty yard full of farmers with knives. I turned the corner just as one of them dropped a chicken and it ran headless into the fence - over and over again until it twitched in a pile on the ground.

My job was to remove the blood clots from the necks while Rachel made sure all the feathers were off of the outside.

As I am reading this, it sounds a little disturbing. Then I remember I eat chicken every week. Duh.

After the chickens were plucked, they were gutted and handed to me to remove the clots. They kept every part of the chicken and the guts were used for soup. Yum.

I can't remember how long we worked in that small room that was lit by kerosene lamps but we were at the farm for at least half of the day. There were few things on the property that hinted that the farm made it into the 20th century.

I was reminded though that this was 2000 when we were waiting for our ride back to the orphanage. The farmers had invited us into their home and the television was stationed in the center of the room under an enormous antenna. Rachel and I were surrounded by silent Romanians who were transfixed on the television screen.

A Seinfeld episode was playing and Jerry and George had been discussing something inconsequential. The Romanian translation scrolled on the bottom of the screen when, to the amazement of the farmers in the room, someone in the episode mentioned Eastern Europe. As soon as the words fell out of the character's mouth every Romanian who was present shouted and jumped up out of their seats in joy. It startled me.

I guess they were excited that people in the West know that they exist in the 21st century.

P.S. There was fresh chicken bones and meat in the soup the next day. I was proud.

Gene the Hummingbird

Upon observing hummingbirds at the hummingbird feeder in Colorado, Gene decided he would bond with these creatures and attempted to extract sugar water from the feeder. Behind the camera I was yelling, "BE the hummingbird Gene!"

In Honor of the Squirrels

I've always been an animal lover and have fond memories of my interactions with local wildlife.

Like that time that the male llama decided that he would chase after the female at the exact moment I was standing nearby. The spit that came out of that mouth and coated my hair could clean the dirt off the faces of 25 kids.

Or that time that I opened the side door and a black racer slid into the garage. He slithered into my dryer and it took an hour for Lynn and Audra to coax it out. I didn't know whether to laugh or scream. (Ask the witnesses, I think I did both simultaneously).

But the animal that I have the most history with is probably the squirrel. I was informed this morning by Betsy that today is Squirrel Appreciation Day. Who knows why there is a day in recognition of these critters, but I couldn't get the thought out of my mind.

I grew up in Indiana where the squirrels are fat, bushy and cute. As a child we had a game with our family dog where we would yell, "Squirrel!" and he'd chase after the fox squirrels in the backyard.

And we ate them too. Yes, we are true Indiana country folk. My only hunting experience was hunting for fox squirrels with my father. Yum.

When I moved to Florida I found out that not all squirrels are the same. Orlando squirrels are like rats with thinned out hair on their tails. These tails remind me of my seventh grade science teacher's head. He had a comb over. I was not fooled by the wispy plastered hair. I knew he was bald just like I know the squirrels down here are really rats with a comb over.

I stepped out of my car at work one morning, and to my amazement, one of these bizarre creatures had a whole 6 inch Subway sandwich in his mouth. That same week I witnessed a squirrel rotating an apple core in its paws like it was corn on the cob.

I would lay out some food for these comb-over rats to honor them on their day, but I have a feeling that Florida squirrels prefer to fend for themselves.