Name Confusion

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Velvet's funny post about her daughter misunderstanding musician's names had me thinking about my own name confusion.

When I was 8 or so, a rather stocky person moved to town. We were all introduced to Joey became friends on the playground.

Cut to 10th grade: to keep kids from smoking, our high school removed all the stalls from the bathroom. Modest types such as myself resorted to holding it or, in desperation, the toilet in the far corner.

One day, I was pulling up my pants when I realized someone was coming in the bathroom. Still somewhat exposed, I am mortified to see Joey.

"What are you doing in here??? This is the GIRL'S bathroom," I yelled, finally getting my pants up.

Joey looked at me all confused and finally said, "I AM a girl."

We both just stared at each other dumbfounded.

Finally, I said, "But your name is Joey. That's a boy's name."

The reply floored me: "J-O-Y is a GIRL'S name."

After all those years, I finally realized her southern accent was so thick, when she was saying Joy, I heard Joey. I can't tell you how many of my friends were shocked at the revelation... We ALL thought she was a boey boy.

The Audacity...

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Just when I think dealing with my crazy customers and art students is a pain...

My cousin who works for the major power company in the South was working in a subdivision near Cortana Mall in Baton Rouge. He and his crew had been called to repair the power to the house of an elderly school teacher at 2 a.m.

His crew parked in her driveway and went to work. She blocked their trucks in her driveway with her car and proceeded to yell at them for parking in her driveway. They repaired her power and she refused to move her car. These men are on overtime, away from their families in the middle of the night and this crazy woman won't let them leave... all because they parked in her driveway???!!!

She proceeded to call several news stations, wanting a camera crew to come out and was informed this was not newsworthy. She called the police, who informed her SHE was the one committing the crime as she was essentially holding the electric crews hostage!

She cursed out several of the guys... I know my cousin's crews... these are hardworking, family men. My cousin was the only one she would speak to (I think this is due to us being born so late in our parents lives... we relate very well to older folks.). She really wanted money for them "invading her privacy."

Personally, I would've turned her power back off and said "As long as you keep my trucks blocked, we're going to triple the time you are out of power."

But my cousin called the supervisor who called the Baton Rouge police who took hours to show up and chew out the old lady and make her move her car.

My cousin returned home at 5:30... just in time to cook breakfast and take his kids to school. UGH! I really admire him and his work crew... they get into some crazy situations and put their lives and health at risk constantly...all to keep the power on for others.

Freaky Tuesday

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Just when you think a day can't get any weirder...

I have carpenter's removing some dead wood trim and putting up vinyl siding on a small section of the house. So they're banging and knocking and Mabel is barking.

Then I keep getting emails from someone in Belize who just has to have a cookie kit. I'm already suspicious as Belize is a well-known scam place. This person is emailing me every 5 minutes... "I work in a bank... Can't you let me call in a cc#... why do you insist on pay pal???" I finally just tell them, no, I won't ship there but thanks anyway.

Next, my godson shows up to work in the shop for the first time in ages. Mabel goes berserk upon seeing him. Luckily, the boy got her outside before she could pee inside. I get him all set up cutting rubber and his cousin Athena, my regular worker, shows up.

Mabel is now double (triple?) crazy. Just as Athena bends over, Mabel jumps and clocks her in the nose! Blood, screaming and crying ensues. I take her into the bathroom and hand her tissues and get blood all over me in the process, run Mabel outside, wash up and take Athena an icepack. I called my best friend B, Athena's aunt, who comes over to help. The boy runs in to see what the commotion is and makes things worse, "Your nose is huge." "You have two black eyes."

We put Athena in my bed, send the boy back to the shop and with things settling down, I try to process some orders. I'm on the computer and notice it's getting dark but it's still very early afternoon. I run outside. The temperature has dropped 20 degrees in the last hour and ... we're having a freak SNOW STORM!!!! (Yes, this is Los Angeles!) I thought I was imagining it but you could hear the little kids across the street at the elementary school screaming, "It's snowing! It's SNOWING!"


The white dots in this photo are actually snow... sorry so grainy!

So now the workers need to leave only my house now has no fascia board. They tack up a temporary cover to keep the moisture out and split.

Athena is now in a panic cause all the tissues she's flushed are overflowing in the bathroom. I unclog the toilet and the boy runs in to tell me my window screens ( removed by the workers) are blowing down the street cause we're having 60 mile an hour gusts of wind.

And as I'm trying to tell you guys about it, the power goes out... The winds, again.

I'm exhausted, have a headache (from the winds) and ready for bed and it's only 5:30! Hope your day was peachy.

she's still working...

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mabel lou here... my mom is sad cause she doesn't have time to blog. taxes keeping her busy. but she is still taking me to the creek every day and finding time to try and photograph that flock of blue chickens with big tails. this morning she laid on the sofa for almost an hour reading a book... she always resorts to reading brian andreas when she needs a good laugh. i think doing too many taxes makes her need to laugh.

anyway, i thought i would check in and keep her blog going. before all you folks out there start commenting on what a talented dog i am, figuring out how to use the computer and blog, let me just explain what is pretty much my life's motto and the reason I get away with can do so much: i'm mabel lou, i'm cute and i can.

oh, and sorry about the no caps thing but i don't have any thumbs. mom'll be back real soon.

Dogs on the Beach

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My sister and I trekked to Laguna Beach during her stay here. Laguna is a magical artistic place and one of my favorite places to disappear to. It is one of my sister's favorite places too. During her last stay here, when she was undergoing months of radiation, I swear I saw her come back to life on Laguna Beach.

On this particular visit, we were both amazed at how many doggies we saw, enjoying the surf with their humans.

There were runners... Strollers...

and walkers.

We saw Sunbathers...

Swimmers...

Volleyballers...

There was fun all around...

Some skimmed the surf...

And some just frolicked...

We felt sorry for these next two:

This guy's owner took forever to take off his shoes and roll up his pants and then only let this precious lab play for less than one minute in the water.

And this guy had a broken leg...

The end...

The Intelligence of Dogs

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I need to start this blog with a warning to all my pet lover friends. Here is the LINK for the 49 brands of dog food being recalled. Some really famous brands here. There are 41 brands of cat food being recalled HERE.

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Yesterday on the Today Show, they had a segment plugging the book, The Intelligence of Dogs.

The piece explained that most dogs have a vocabulary of about 165 words making them about as smart as a two-year-old human. I immediately started to wonder about the intelligence of my former dog, Maggie. She was my personal hero, having saved my life once. I used to look at her and tell her, "I love you so much! You make my heart go pitty pat."

This phrase would send her tearing out of the house onto the deck... searching for a kitty cat.

So I was rather interested in the test that Meredith Viera's dog failed on the show.

The first is to show the dog a treat and then hide it under a can. Most dogs assume the treat is simply gone and lose interest. Not Miss Mabel (Yeah!). She whined and moaned and went into full on drama queen mode finally settling down a few feet away from the can letting out these plaintive cries every now and again. I realize she thought she might get in trouble for hurting the can so I knocked it over and quickly replaced it. She came over, slapped the can with her paw and got the treat.

This was supposedly the easier of the two tests but I find the next one rather easy and was sure Mabel would pass this one:

Hide a cookie under a kitchen towel. Apparently a lot of dogs have the out of sight, out of mind thing going on. But Mabel definitely has a prey drive and is really a scent-driven dog. She did not miss a beat. She came right over, picked up cookie and towel, decided she didn't like that, dropped it and started "digging" at the towel until the cookie was hers.

So yay! My dog is of above average intelligence!!! I had my doubts. As an example of what I think of my dog's intelligence, I submit to you a composite photo I had to build in a photoshop class project. Please look for the deer in the photo.
I have seen the scenario time and time again, most recently with a bunny. Mabel is chasing the critter in one direction and the critter somehow gets behind her. And Mabel is usually oblivious to it all.

But, at least for now, I can hold my head up high and say with all honesty, I have a smart dog. And it will be believable - just as long as no one sees her trying to find a critter at the creek.

I Am From

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Jackie posted a challenge to create a post based on the "I am from" poem by George Ella Lyons. I had so much fun playing with this format. Here is my version:

I am from wood, cut fresh to build a house,

from Heinz ketchup,

catfish caught by cheating (with fish food and a dip net),

hushpuppies, French fries and fresh picked strawberries.

I am from green hills and muddy rivers, sticky hot and icy cool.

I am from the cotton fields of Mississippi,

and the dirty, funky streets of New Orleans.

I am from California, a grown-up runaway

stopped only by the Pacific.

I am from one-hand-short-gin-rummy-after-fishing

(so everyone could take a bath),

and practical jokes and lots of giggles.

I am from Smith and Spence; McElhaney and Meyer,

and Choctaw, Chickasee, Cherokee and Tangipahoa.

I am from the lines of

Edna Jane and Kirby General; Gideon and Anna Pearl.

I am from passion and laughter and carpenters.

From the Easter bunny who left hundreds of eggs

by the campfire in French Settlement.

From Santa Claus who hid my magic kit

in the wood box the year I found out his secret.

I am from “a can’t never could” and the belief

I can do anything if I have love in my heart.

I am from church on Sunday; Wednesday too…

until I got old enough to question

all the hypocrisy I saw there

and refused to return.

I am from Baptist and Methodist and Judaism,

but it is my Indian blood and the miracles I’ve seen

that taught me God is real and everywhere.

I am from Colorado Springs,

the place of birth but not my home.

I am a love child, my arrival hidden

from the world and revealed in lies.

I am a foster child from Hammond

until my parents could write their my story.

I am descended from those kids that

ran off every teacher Salem school ever hired.

I am the daughter of a glider pilot war hero,

and the strongest woman in the world.

I am from photos in the back of my head,

vivid color snapshots taken by my mind’s eye.

Memories and stories from here and yon,

ripe with characters bursting to be heard.

Am I the Only One?

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Am I the only one out there with a spoiled brat of a dog???

I took the little princess on a two hour hike this morning to this rock slide area where the water music is wonderful and there are deeper pools for her to chase sticks. It wasn't totally for her. For the first time in a terribly long time, I have money in the bank and time to avoid necessary chores.

Sure, I need to work the new stamp line into mine. I need to make some inventory for jewelry sales. I need to prep for my classes. But all of that, including the hike is to avoid what I truly need to do: prepare my taxes. UGH!

I'm great at keeping track of incoming money and OK at paying my bills... I just don't log those bills into the computer and, come tax time, it appears I had all income and NO expenses. Yeah, right.

And since this is a chore I despise and since I have a little money saved, I'm in no particular hurry to get back in the shop. And I just keep procrastinating the taxes. (They really should pay us for the time it sucks from our lives!)

So we returned from our hike, got baths and ate lunch. I headed for the computer and decided I was tired. I went into the bedroom and guess who is taking up the whole bed? Yep, Miss Mabel.

I lay with my legs on top of her, hoping she would get the hint. She didn't. I fussed at her. No movement. Finally, I moved the blankets. She moved over a whopping 12 inches.

I snoozed for a bit and got tired of not being able to stretch out so I retreated to the sofa. I was there all of five minutes when Miss Mabel decided to go outside for a sunbathing session. About 15 minutes later, she was at the end of the couch making goo-goo eyes at me. She never takes "no" for an answer. She will just keep trying. So of course, I let her up.

But, I didn't move over (very much).

The Best Show in Town

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Velvet just posted about the return of a young male peacock that she is so enamored with. I too share her passion.

When I moved here just over six years ago, I immediately decided someone had a very loud baby. After listening to this creature cry in the night, I decided it was instead a very loud cat. And then, on a walk with Maggie, about a 1/2 mile away, I realized the noise was coming from a tree! It was then I discovered we have peacocks!

I could only spot two, male and female, at first. A fellow hiker told me there were actually six, three of each. But the most I would ever see was two males and one hen. I never believed there were six. After some months, I stumbled on two hens and one male... ah... so there were at least four in my mind.

That winter, Maggie and I spent an entire month in Baton Rouge with my mom. Another really awful Christmas. I was almost suicidal by the time we came back to California. My first day back, all six peacocks came strutting by and hung out in my front yard for the longest time. That is the ONLY time I've ever seen them this far east. It was like they knew I needed a little boost that day.

Over the years, I've learned where they hang out and drive out of my way several times a week in hopes of seeing them. I've watched with great expectations as the hens have chicks. My heart has sank as the chicks have died...cars, coyotes, winter.

But still our flock has remained at six until two summers ago. Three young males lived and thrived. And last summer all the new chicks died and one of hens disappeared late summer. But she surprised us in October with a new bunch of chicks.

The best show in this sleepy neck of Los Angeles is when the peacocks all retreat to their home tree come sunset. It's not unusual to find many of the hikers I know up on the hill watching these incredible birds fly to roost in the early evening hours.

I've tried photographing them over the years and found it so difficult. I tried again a few weeks ago when I stumbled on several of the young males playing chase. My camera only captured a bunch of blue blurs.

But after reading Velvet's post and looking back her fabulous pictures, I was determined to get our bunch photographed. The big male above was the first one I spotted. I drove around a bit and had given up on finding more of the flock until I realized the big male kept staring at the house across the street. There I found four more.

The hen is between the big male and little male. Below is their "home." This tree is on a T-bone street corner. Most all the neighbors love the peacocks except the jerk that just built a house directly across from the tree. But he would be an idiot to try and harm them.

After walking Mabel, I returned, determined to photograph them flying. I counted 13 peacocks in the dusk but was too excited to keep track of sexes. Below is a few of them preparing to ascend into the tree. All in all, I attempted to take pictures of nine of them flying... and only got a blurry mess of tree limbs.

This young male became fascinated with me and came over for a closer look. (Hey, at least I now know I can still attract a man!)
But he too left me for the rooftop and then home.

This left the last big male on the ground. This is part of their ritual - the big guy goes home last. He wasn't too sure about me and wandered around a bit. He went next door, hopped up on the fence, then to the roof, down the fence between the houses, up to the roof next door, onto the chimney and then home.

The BESTest Birthday EVER!

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I promised to write more about my birthday with my three sisters.

My real sister and I got up early. I walked Mabel in the creek and got her fed and situated for the day. I also should mention that I talked the kiss-stingy Miss M into 43 kisses on my birthday! That alone is very special!

My sister and I headed to the coffee stop, our local drive through coffee place and picked up coffee for the road. It was really funny because my sister (who does not hear very well) had not realized I ordered coffee for her and was actually mad at me when she realized I did. Then she tasted it. She talked about how wonderful it was the whole trip!

We picked up my best bud, B and headed to Ontario to our favorite store, JC Penney's catalog outlet. We pulled up right at 9... and the store was still closed. (Stores keep very strange hours here in Cali...not what this Southern girl is used to even after living here for 20 years!) So we headed to IHOP and were back in the store at 10:20.

We had the best time in the store - everyone doing her own thing and occasionally running into each other in the dressing rooms. I had B pick me out some shorts and a t-shirt for my Godson (her son) and she actually asked me, "Why do you want to buy him anything?"

"Cause he's my boy and I love him!?!?! "What kind of question is that?" I noticed she had several boys shirts in her basket, too big for our boy. "I see you're buying shirts for your three nephews. Why on earth would you want to do that?"

She just giggled. We all had a great laugh over the shirts she had picked out for her nephews. The youngest got a skateboard shirt but the older two college boys got shirts that we didn't quite get until we read them out loud.

Colorado: How's your Aspen?

Wisconsin: Smell the Dairy Air.

Two hours and 50 minutes later (!!!) we were all done shopping and pottying and headed to B's sister's house near Temecula. After a quick visit... K had put in all new landscaping and a huge backporch since our last visit, we headed to the plateau.

The Santa Rosa Plateau is the flat mountain top covered with avocado and citrus groves, creeks and some of the most beautiful views I've ever seen. My sister was just squealing at all the beautiful things we saw... and sorry to say, my camera died!

After our drive, we ended up at a little decorating store called Home Goods and spent an hour or so there.

Then we went on to South Coast Winery for some much needed food. Since we were there at 3:30, too early for supper and too late for dinner, we ate appetizers in the bar. It was the MOST incredible meal!

We had coconut shrimp with mango chutney, a prosciutto pizza with goat cheese, the Vineyard Rose House Salad - Blend of Vineyard Flavors Assorted Vine Ripe Fruits, Black Pepper Crusted Goat Cheese Fire Roasted Bell peppers, Caramelized Pecans and Fresh Avocado, Tossed in Citrus Vinaigrette. But the MOST amazing dish was the Tuscan Antipasto: Parmesan, Mozzarella and Aged Goat Cheese, Merlot Wine Poached Pear, Salami and Prosciutto, Scented Vanilla Honey.

I am determined to make my own vanilla scented honey. (I raced to the gift shop to see if they bottled it...they don't.) It was the perfect compliment to the salty cheeses and meats and that pear! OHHH!!! So good! If you ever pass through Temecula, THIS is THE place to eat! Oh, we also had cake... the German Chocolate was to die for!

We spent the rest of the evening at K's visiting with her sons and husband and finally hit the road home. It was a fabulous day.

I HATE Birthdays

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My sister is caught up in her Sunday night t.v. viewing and I'm trying to catch up on posts...

As I hiked in the creek early yesterday - my 43rd birthday - I was pondering why I hate my birthday so. I really don't think it has anything to do with the fact that I'm getting older or I'm not where I think I should be in life. No, I attribute my dislike of this annual event to my strange childhood.

I only remember spending two birthdays with my father and one of those is my earliest memory is of life. My second birthday party wasn't so terrible. We ate in the dining room. I remember thinking that we had never done that before. My sister, (future) brother-in-law, aunt, uncle, mother and father were all dressed up... which I now reason that it must have been a Sunday and not my actual birthday.

My father clapped his hands together to get my attention and held out his arms. I ran to him. He lifted me into my high chair. There I could see a cake with a clown face on it.

My mother was urging everyone to sit as she moved around the table pouring iced tea. She filled my father's glass and he took a sip. He looked at me, smiled and leaned in for a kiss. His lips were cold and moist and sweet. I decided I like iced tea from that kiss.




I guess I didn't really start to hate birthdays until the age of seven or eight. My mother decided I didn't get along well with several neighborhood girls - 2 sets of sisters - (who weren't even in my class at school) and thought she would remedy this situation by inviting them to my birthday party. These were girls I truly disliked. And to make matters worse, I was not allowed to invite my friends to the party!

I hoped somehow that it would all be o.k. as most of my friends did not live right in our neighborhood and the party was on a weekend. Only, one of my friends was the daughter of one of Mom's friends and they just happened to stop by as the party was going on!

I was horrified as this girl stood there in our den absolutely shocked to see me having a party when she was not invited. She just glared at me. I took her to my room and tried to explain. But it did not work. I knew she would tell my other friends. Plus, I had not realized the girls who were invited would be telling everyone at school that they were at my party.

It made the rest of the school year really rough as my "real" friends no longer liked me since I hadn't invited them. And I still didn't like those neighborhood girls.

In the end, my mother was dead wrong on that one. (I've always been damn near psychic when meeting people for the first time. If my gut tells me not to like you, I won't...EVER. I have NEVER been wrong either. Sooner or later, some truth will come out and I will be justified in that snap decision.) Of those four girls at my party, one was knocked up at 14, one dropped out of Jr. High and never returned to school, and the S sisters were in jail by the time I was in college. THIS is what my mother wanted me to befriend...

My ninth was no picnic either...literally. My two best friends, were going to throw me a party, just the three of us. We were going to picnic in one of the girl's huge backyard that ran along the backside of our neighborhood church. They were making all the food, including the cake. I was overjoyed as I had worked hard to make new friends and this would keep my mother out of it.

Only, my mom woke up the morning of my birthday with one of her fanciful flights on her mind. I was never allowed to play little league or do any activity that occurred on a weekend because mom liked to run the roads to Louisiana visiting various friends and relatives. Whenever I would ask to join some group, Mom would always ask, "You don't really want to do that, do you? I mean, you couldn't go see your cousins and we'd be here in McComb all the time."

It was always painfully clear that my answer should be, "No, I don't want to do that."

So, March 3, 1973, we set out for Baton Rouge early in the morning. I begged my mom to leave me at home.

"I could go to church with my friends and then I'm supposed to be there all afternoon anyway for my party. Can't I please stay???"

No, I could not. Mom wanted to spend my day with me. So I called my friend's house to tell her I would try to encourage my mom to get me back home as early as possible.

We made it home around 4 and I called my friend's house. Her mom answered. She had just dropped the girls off at the picture show. I asked if I should come over after they got home - to cut my cake and all. Her answer crushed me.

"Oh hun, when you couldn't make it, they just went out back and had a picnic, jus' th' two of 'em. They sang Happy Birthday to each other and traded your gifts with each other. We all ate the cake. It was real good."

But that too worked out. I really never trusted those two very much after that and got to know another girl who had been in my class since second grade. D and I are still the closest of friends all these years later.

The next birthday, is the other one with my father. My tenth had me very melancholy. I was so depressed that I was a double digit in age. (What can I say - I was a weird, introspective kid.)

I remember walking along the top of the rock wall that separated our property from the neighbor to the west, lecturing myself. "You're almost a grownup. You have to behave better. You have to take care of yourself." (God, what a weirdo!!)

But I was also excited my father was coming. Due the screwed up circumstances of my birth, my father lived elsewhere. But when he showed up that day, there was a very large man in his Olds 98.

It turned out to be a client. My daddy was a plumbing contractor specializing in large government buildings. He often entertained big-wigs. He had promised this client he would take him to the races in New Orleans. And since my mother was the life of the party, she was expected to join them.

I rode to New Orleans, crunched in the corner of the backseat, absolutely terrified of this large man beside me. When we got there, I was mercilessly "dumped" on my sister and brother-in-law, who were thrilled to have me for the day.

They tried so hard to make me happy. My brother-in-law tickled me and played with me and their dog, rolling the floor, trying to get me to laugh. I barely noticed. My sister spent the day suggesting fun things to do: the zoo, eating out, Ponchartrain Beach. With every idea she pitched, I always gave her a pathetic little "no."

She finally insisted on going to Ponchartrain to ride the rides there. All I could think was that my parents didn't even love me enough to spend the day with me. There was a definite emotional shift away from my father that day. One we would never recover from. Just over a year later, his death would shatter my childhood and send my life down a completely different path.

Since then, most birthdays are just disappointing...I feel like they should be special, but they're not. I have to work, pay bills, deal with ignorant people and the daily grind just like any other day. I guess in all these years, I've stopped expecting them to be anything at all.

My favorite birthdays of these past few years are when I can disappear from life. I call my mom and thank her for giving birth to me, 'cause if I didn't she'd kill me. Then, I take off somewhere. I don't answer the phone or email or return calls. That was last year.

This year was amazing, probably my best birthday ever, thanks to my sisters (the real one and two borrowed ones). It was super fantastic fun and relaxing...but that's a wob. (whole other blog!) I promise to tell you all about it real soon. But my sister and I are spending tomorrow in one of our favorite places on the planet: Laguna Beach. She'll be heading back to Baton Rouge on Thursday and I'll be posting again shortly.

Just Poppin' In

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The other morning, I got out of my jeep, loosed Mabel and started my daily hike into the creek. I had made it a few steps when I heard a high pitched female voice say, "Hiiii-eye!"

I turned, expecting to see one of the elderly widows that live on the street where I park. I looked as far as I could see down both streets. There was no one there. Thinking I was hearing things, I continued to my favorite stretching rock where I work the kinks out of my calves before our walk. I heard it again.

"Hiii -eye!"

I turned...no one was there.

I stretched and there it was again. Now, I'm thinking someone has fallen and can't get up. I dash back toward the street, looking high and low for whoever was yelling that greeting. Again, no one could be seen.

I was starting to think I was loosing my mind when I became aware of some crows frolicking in the vacant lot. I was puzzled...could this be my morning greeter???

I walked closer, listening to their squawking. Sure enough, there was one lone crow who sounded drastically different from the others. Instead of "Caw, caw, caw," she most definitely was saying, "Hiii-eye!"

And since my sister is in town from Baton Rouge celebrating "birthday week" with me, I've been a bit negligent of my blog here. So I thought I would take the time to pop in and quoth to crow to all my friends in bloggerville: Hiii-eye!