Spitting Fire

Dear people of Orange County CA... do you recognize this dog? Was she once yours? If you are the one who claimed her as your own and then proceeded to break down every fiber of her spirit and being, you make me want to hunt you down and hurt you.

I am not a violent person... but you, I want to hurt.  I want to hurt you bad.

Look closely at her. You called her Tina. I call her Macy. Her middle name is Blue and that's my tribute to you. You made her that way. You may not recognize her because I'm 1000% certain she looks much happier now than she did with you. But if you really look into her eyes, you'll see the sadness you put there.  I only wish I could do the same for you.

I would start by making you feel so in the way and unwanted that the only place you feel safe is in a car.  I would leave you there for days on end. You would learn to hold your bodily needs for 17 - 20 hours at a stretch because you'd be severely punished if you didn't.

I would never let you in my home and on the few occasions you did get to come inside, I would beat you mercilessly for daring to come on my sofa.

And in the yard, I would spray you down with water just for fun. Over and over and over again. To the point where you would run for your life when I turned on the hose.

You would have nothing to play with. You would never go for walks. Your only joy would be the food I place in front of you.

...But... I can't do that to you. Because I don't have it in me to treat another creature on this planet in that manner. No, all I can do is try, every single day, to undo the damage you have wrought.

I take her for long walks, often in places where she's safe to run free.

I provide routine as best I can not having a set work schedule. I feed her good food and talk to her in a soft and loving voice. I buy her big juicy bones because it's the only thing that excites her. I'm trying to teach her how to play! And I pet her as much as she will allow with soft, kind and loving hands. 

I have given up the thought of long cuddles on the sofa with her, or naps in my bed. It's more than she can handle, thanks to you. But oh so slowly, I see signs that the damage is unraveling. Just this week, she sought my hand for pets... and then did the same to her aunties that we hike with.

And for every step forward, we take a giant leap backwards. We both got into stinky mud on a hike last night and I discovered how vast her fear of the water hose was. I had to think of another way that would clean my girl and not paralyze her with fear.

During this morning's "play lesson," she got over zealous and rolled over a bone. It hurt... and thanks to you, she associates that pain with me.  She hasn't come near me for two hours.  And I knew I had to write you this note.

Since I can't really track you down and hurt you, could you please just do me a favor? Do HER a favor?

The next time you even think of bringing a dog into your home... and I do mean into your home, don't!

Dogs are pack animals. If you can't "pack up" with them...eating, sleeping, living with them as part of your life and you a part of theirs, don't get a dog.

If you can't be kind, don't get a dog. If you can't be patient, don't get a dog. If you are incapable of love, don't get a dog.

Please, let that be her legacy to you...the thing she taught you. You aren't cut out for dogs so please, leave no more damaged precious souls in your wake!

This Blog Is Going to the Birds!

I've heard the whispers... I know what you're all saying... yes, this blog has become a bird blog! But at least it's not DUCKS!

The bestie and I were returning from a produce run down the mountain when we spied a peahen strolling along the road. Suddenly, babies started popping out of the ivy! One, then two... then there were FIVE. We've never had more than three in our local flocks belonging to one mom.  We had three mothers who strutted around after six babies last year... but they were always together, leading me to believe that each hen had a couple of chicks. But seeing five with one mom was really something! And as luck would have it, I had stashed my camera at the bestie's house.

I took her home and dashed down the hill to find them. I saw this guy first:

He was being chased by an angry neighbor! I distracted the man by asking where the little family was and this guy took off!

Angry neighbor dude told me they had headed down the hill. I went a few houses and found the family in someone's yard. The people were all out looking at them:

These neighbors told me the family stops by every afternoon and she puts out water and bread. I told her a better choice would be tomatoes, grapes or berries. I've even hand fed our local peacocks! They are so sweet! I wouldn't recommend that as they are wild birds... but our flock is very tame!

The babies pecked about the yard

And mom took a break from the midday sun in the shade on the fence:

Coming soon: BIRD videos!

Small Victory

I received an annoying piece of spam the other day. It's bad enough to get one from Nigeria asking for my business website (DUH! You used it to email me!) but the broken English, bad spelling and totally outrageous requests scream RIP OFF!

But this one was in a foreign language... at least put some effort into it! I responded as I always do. I wrote back asked them to buy my beads or jewelry. I sent it 10 times. They replied with the same piece of spam. So I replied 10 more times. And they BLOCKED MY EMAIL! Whooo Hooo!

And for the record, this email addy is a spammer: servizio@bancario.it

Tell him I said hi!

Gone...

I was robbed 8 days ago. Thieves broke the back mini window in the back of the Jeep and took my purse while Mabel and I were hiking. It took 6 solid hours of phone calls and errands to close bank accounts, credit cards and get my window fixed. I'm still dealing with the aftermath of re-routing direct debit and automatic credit card payments, and waiting for a new driver's license.

Aside from my cheap, Ross Dress for Less purse and the 20 bucks in my wallet, they did get a free tank of gas of my Visa...which Visa will pay for. Funny, but I canceled my Discover Card waiting for the cops because I could remember their phone number - 1-800-Discover. But I didn't know Visa's... I do now: 1-800-Visa-911. (You must know the name of your issuing bank; then this number can refer your to the proper theft / fraud phone numbers.)

But the one thing I mourn the most is my wallet. My big time Hollywood producer wallet. Those stupid-ass thieves certainly have no appreciation for that wallet, Il Bisonte #C237. And I fear I will never be able to afford to own it again.

I have loved and adored this wallet - mine was black - for two decades. This was actually my second one. I carelessly left the first in a McDonald's bathroom in Anaheim a decade ago. Then as now, I pray that whoever took her, loves and adores that wallet the way I did.

I seriously planned a blog post about my Il Bisonte over the winter. That wallet and a coat with an inside pocket are my favorite way of safely moving about large crowded places. I was so excited to have found a ladies winter coat with an inside pocket at Penney's Outlet. This little luxury is normally saved for men...which is why I wear men's coats. And this purple ladies jacket had an inside pocket that fit my Il Bisonte.

It wasn't that it was made from fine Bison leather that grew so soft and supple with age. The Il Bisonte was the elegant and super functional design. It was a must for any international traveler or production person.

I'm going to blame owning this wallet and my need of jackets with inside pockets on Catherine MacDonald. She was our travel coordinator on the movie I worked on in Argentina. A raven haired beauty from Texas who settled in New York, Catherine moved about the world with such ease and confidence. She prepared well for potentially dangerous encounters (purse snatchers were notorious in Buenos Aires) and then she rolled with the punches. I'm certain she taught me about the Il Bisonte.

Later when I found myself in Manhattan wrapping a job, I made my way to the Il Bisonte store and ponied up the $130 for my first one. The wallet is extra wide - not so much an issue with the advent of the Euro. But in my heavy duty travel days, I quickly discovered that not all currency was the same size at the dollar. Many countries had wider money. It would stick out and people could see what I had and the money got torn. Or I folded it up, which made my wallet too fat to close.

I quickly fell in love with this Il Bisonte for other prodution needs. Keeping track of receipts for the company? No problem...lots of nooks and crannies. Needing a safe place for my passport? It fit in the wallet when it was all folded up. And the Il Bisonte has an elastic band that wraps around the wallet when you put too much junk in it...so it holds together no matter what!

Without fail, everyone in production who saw my Il Bisonte, bought one! I remember being at a dinner with two art directors and five or six production people. When it came time to pay, we all had the same wallet! And they blame their love of this wallet on me!

But sadly, I am no longer grossly overpaid for my time and the now $237 price tag is too much for my paltry income. I bought a seven dollar wallet at Ross. And I hate it. And I probably always will.

Smells Like...

Why is it that the women who wear the cheapest perfume - the crap that brings on an allergic sneeze fit - seem to wear MORE of it?

I entered our local post office today after one such woman... she was long gone but her stench lingered so strong, my eyes teared up and I could barely speak.

I seem to encounter these women or their left over essence more and more but what can one really do??

Well, I did get to tell one such woman about her odoriferous choice once.

When I was in a wheelchair, I would board airplanes first. I was flying Southwest...no seat assignments... and took a front seat beside the window on the left side of the plane. There's a ledge there on many planes and I could ride with my foot raised and prevent a little swelling.

As the regular passengers started to board a nice, older gentleman inquired about the seats next to me. I told him they were vacant. He motioned to someone I couldn't see and suddenly I found myself seated next to his "twinkie"... a much younger, much too blond woman.

As soon as she sat down, my eyes filled and I started sneezing over and over and over. I finally got out that I was allergic to her perfume and that she needed to move. NOW! She was somewhat embarrassed and leaned closer (!!) to apologize and through my sneezing I managed to snipe, "Have him buy you some good stuff, honey. People aren't allergic to better perfumes!"


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Forward

Janet's recent post about people who forward emails was getting quite a bit of interest. And as my comments there grew too long to be considered polite, I decided it was a topic I would broach as well.

Janet inquired if it would hurt her reader's feelings if she pointed out that they had forwarded an email with false or misleading information. My answer would be no, but you would be hard-pressed to find one of those from me in your in box. I get several hundred emails a day and I often just hit delete if it's not from my immediate circle.

And I have been known to hit forward a few times but I NEVER send anything to my entire address book and ONLY forward something I find laugh out loud funny and then ONLY to those I know will appreciate it as much as I do. So if it passes those requirements, on it goes. And I will say, all on my list have actually told me that when they get a forward from me, they know it will be super funny.

That being said, I really hate getting forwarded emails. First of all, I've been on the net longer than everyone I know. I've seen it all.

The other forwards I hate, hate, hate seem to come from someone who recently added me to their address book. I have a bead customer who orders custom focals from me at $90 each. Within days of my answering her inquiry, here came the emails. This recently happened with an officer in an art guild I belong to as well.

I don't want either of these women mad at me but, I don't want all their junk mail either. I really would LOVE to scream at both of them, "Don't you know how to use your address books???" I really don't think people are aware you can categorize your addresses.... family and friends who don't mind getting an endless flow of nonsense and business associates who might actually not hold you in such high regard for filling their in boxes.

I don't mind jokes if they are brief but the type of forward that gets my panties in a wad are the ones that defame a business or person. You know the "Don't use Febreze... it'll kill your dog." or "Barack Obama is a Muslim," (both TOTALLY FALSE) type of crap. This misinformation hurts businesses / people / reputations and diminishes us as thinking human beings.

What are people thinking when they forward that crap on? Do they really think they are being helpful? As a former newspaper person, the second I hear / read something like that, the hair on my neck stands up. And then I go to Snopes (a database of internet misinformation) and check it out. It only takes a second.

And then I do let the sender know they are sending out false information. Maybe it is my newspaper background that makes me take untruths so seriously but others seem not to care at all.

My "aunt" (really my mom's oldest girlfriend) is one such person. After Hurricane Katrina, she would forward racially derogatory emails almost daily. And granted I was pretty stressed at the time, trying desperately to locate a missing friend. As each came in, it amazed me that such new information was already on Snopes. I would send her links and explain that her emails might dissuade people from helping those in need. And then I would get another. Exasperated, I hit "reply all" and sent the link. Boy, did that stir up a hornet's nest! My poor mother got an earful. But I did not get any more emails...ever! So my aunt is pissed at me... and I'm offended by her. C'est la vie!

The other forwards I get that I so dislike are from close friends / relatives who think hitting the forward button is actual communication! Now THIS really offends me! This happened to me with both my niece and a childhood friend. Before the internet (B.I.), we used to write actual letters and occasionally talk on the phone. A.I., all I get are forwards. I anxiously would open the email, hoping for some tidbit about their lives and it was only a forward. To everyone in their address book no less.

A few years ago, my niece actually had the gall to ask why I never respond to her emails!

"WHAT emails? You emailed and I didn't write back?"

"Well, I send you jokes and stuff all the time and I never hear from you."

I explained about my business, getting tons of emails and that honestly, I only opened her emails to see if it were "real"... something from her/ about her and not just a mass forward.

She got a bit indignant that I just delete them.

"Why would you care? They are not important. They tell me nothing about your life other than you were alive to hit the forward button. But if you ever take time to write me, I will most certainly answer you," I said a bit too indignantly myself.

I think we've spoken once in four years and no more emails either. How on earth could either of these really intelligent women think forwarding emails to me (and everyone else in their address books) implies closeness or requires an answer???

I don't have any answers here but I do wish more people - especially internet newbies or infrequent users - would study up on netiquette a bit before forwarding so much junk.


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What a Man...

I just had an encounter with one of the most terrifying members of the species I've ever met! I'm shaking as I type.

It was a busy day in the shop. I had planned to torch all morning and then run a few errands... an easy day...sales have been slow. But, we had a t.v. show air and suddenly, I was swamped. One humongous order and several smaller ones. So I was on my feet all day.

I have two holiday parties to attend and after quitting around 7:30, I drove to Smart and Final. It's like a restaurant supply / much smaller Costco. I picked up a frozen lasagna and a few other things and went to my car. I had parked in the handicapped spot because I was limping pretty bad after all that work. After loading my car, I realized someone had parked their big, blue Ford at an odd angle. They had turned into a west facing space while driving east. There was no way to back out without hitting the car.

I went back in and asked the clerk make an announcement. No one came forward. I went back out and got the license plate. As I handed it to the clerk, a lady says, "That's him over there." She pointed to the last check stand.

There was a guy coming toward me - a short, rotund man. I asked, "Are you in the blue truck"

"Who?"

"You...are you in the blue truck?

"Who?"

"YOU! Are you driving a blue truck?"

He had been walking toward me the whole time and now we were belly to belly. Intimidated, I asked, "What are you doing?"

"What're you doing?"

"I'm trying to find out if you're driving a blue truck." I'm backing up now. He moves toward me.

"Sir, I'm handicapped. I just want to l..."

"SO AM I!"

"Well, I just want to leave but I need the owner of the blue truck to move."

"Well, you don't have to get in my face!" {??? Just who got in whose face???}

At this point, the lady comes over and says, "That guy." She points out the true owner of the truck.

I start walking away from Mister Wonderful and ask Guy #2 if the truck is his. He apologizes and says he'll move it just as soon as he's finished paying. Very nice.

As I turn around, I realize half the store is staring at Mister Wonderful in amazement, now over by the exit. He looks back and repeats his last line about me being in his face....

And I just couldn't let it go... "Well, you didn't have to be an asshole." I was still also talking to the truck owner and turned my back, thinking Mr. Wonderful was headed out the door.

I turned to find him back in my face again!

"WHAT did you call ME?"

The whole store heard me... there was no point in lying. I looked him straight in the eye and said, "An asshole. That's what you are when you bully a girl!"

"Well, maybe I'll just go get my wife and let her take care of you."

"Well, maybe I'll call 9-1-1 and let the cops take care of you."

"Well, maybe you should. You walk in here all attitude and get in my face..."

"Sir, it was a yes or no question. I didn't have an attitude. I simply thought you couldn't hear me or understand."

At this point, Mr. Blue Truck is ready to go and Mr. Wonderful is strutting around still muttering threats. I decide to kill him with kindness.

"Merry Christmas!"

"Arg...YOU TOO!"

"Why, THANK YOU!" and I blow him a kiss!

I've become aware that the gutless wonder of a store manager has been standing nearby, watching. I asked the clerk, "Was I rude???"

She shook her head in disbelief, still staring out the door after the guy.

I told the manager, "I don't have a cell phone and you need to walk me to my car and watch me leave."

He agreed. As Mr. Blue Truck pulled out, I could see Mr. Wonderful, pointing at me!

I took a meandering route home.

I have to wonder what kind of woman this man is married to... she must be so proud of him. My gut tells me, he probably bullies her too. I hope she got a kick out of me calling him an asshole. I think she probably has wanted to call him that for a long time.

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Stupid Is as Stupid Does

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Since my previous post where I mentioned the challenges and frustrations of having a high IQ, several people have written to me privately about this same issue. I get particularly frustrated when someone won't just say what they mean.

I recently had Sears Home Improvement install new vinyl siding on the front of my home. About 400 square feet of my house had lots of wood trim... a rarity in California. As this side of the house gets a lovely Southern exposure (and plenty of sunshine), the wood was rotten, which is why I opted for vinyl.

Sears did a great job. If I have one complaint, it is the number of follow up surveys they send to see how happy I am with the job. "Uh - I would be a lot happier if I didn't have to fill out any more surveys..."

The other day, the Sears office lady (SOL) called and asked if I had received my permit from the city in the mail.

CH: I really wouldn't know. I don't open my mail for months on end.

SOL: You're kidding!

CH: No. I have my bills emailed and if I doesn't look like a birthday card or something really important, it goes in a pile and I deal with in January when I start posting last year's bills.

SOL: You're serious?

CH: So, if you really need to know, you're about seven months too early. (chuckle)

SOL: Oh, well, I was wondering about the permit cause I need to schedule your final inspection with the city.

CH: OK.

SILENCE

CH:.... And you need me to....

SOL: I need to schedule your final inspection with the city.

CH: And you need me to???

SOL: I need to schedule your final inspection with the city.

CH: How can I help you with that?

SOL: I need to schedule your final inspection with the city.

CH: (Frustrated) Ma'am, is it not clear to you that I don't understand what action you want me to take? Repeating yourself word for word when someone does not understand what you want does not help the situation. Now, again, what do you need from me?

SOL: I need to schedule your final inspection with the city.

CH: (Very frustrated) OK then, you go right ahead.

SOL: But I need to schedule it.

CH: It's on the front of my house.

SOL: But I need to schedule it.

CH: R i g h t... schedule it for any time you like. It's on the front of my house on a very busy, very public street and my house is pretty much here 24 /7. Try as it might, the poor girl never leaves home. So whenever you want to schedule that, the house is right here.

SOL: (Very frustrated)Ugh... OK thank you. Goodbye.

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Just WHAT did this poor girl want from me?? After she had repeated herself, I decided I really wanted her to spell it out. I was NOT going to offer up anything.

She could've said:

-I really need you to find that permit.

-I need you to be home in case the inspector has question. Can you give a few choices of times?

-I need you to schedule your own inspection.

Something, anything direct would have been nice.

Looking down on this girl from my lofty IQ, I can chalk this experience up to dealing with an idiot. But then, I'm reminded of a conversation I had with one of the ladies who designs cookie bouquets for me.

She is a psychiatric social worker and we were once talking about dealing with the intelligence impaired. She said the funniest thing: "You know, you can stop the next 100 people you see and ask them what they would change about their body and they will each give you a list as long as your arm. But ask them if they think they are smart, and every single one will tell you yes."

I am certain that poor girl at Sears turned around and said to her co-workers, "You won't believe the idiot I just had on the phone!"

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.

The Art of the Apology.

Have you noticed, no one seems to know how to apologize anymore? Well, I guess that would mean actually admitting to doing something wrong.

This morning, I had to drive my godson to school --Which means I had to be up and out of the house earlier than usual. And, as is typical when I leave early, some lovely parent was blocking my driveway - I live near an elementary school. Unbeknownst to me, I apparently didn't receive full ownership of my driveway when I bought the house. No, it belongs to every lazy, late, loser parent whose kids go to that school.

When I opened my gate, she moved further down the street. When I drove past her car, I stopped and motioned for her to roll down her window. She just stared. So, rather loudly, I asked, "Could you not block my driveway in the future?"

She just waved me on shaking her head.

"Ma'am, I just wanted to ask you..." She starts blasting her radio.

At that point, I called her a few choice names I wish I had not screamed in the presence of elementary kids!

But it got me to thinking about apologies.

OK... I know this is a sore subject. Literally, at least 3 times a week, I simply cannot come or go to / from my own home without someone being in my driveway. A few years ago, my neighbor returned from work one evening to find two cars in his driveway. He pulled in behind and went inside. About an hour later, a couple of rather sheepish, embarrassed parents knocked on the door and asked him to move his car. They did not apologize...just asked the homeowner to move his car! He informed them that he was on long distance and they would have to wait. He watched his favorite t.v. show before moving the car an hour later.

My favorite is Election Day. Then you get every voter who is "only going to take a minute to vote" also blocking my clearly marked driveway. A few years ago, I used a cane to walk. (Prior to this, I was in a wheelchair for many months, which was followed by months on a walker and then to the cane. It never once occurred to me to block someone's driveway so I could park a few feet closer. ) Anyway, I returned home to find an errant voter in my driveway. I hobble into the polls and loudly announce that the driver of the silver Lexus needs to move the car NOW.

On the way back home, I mumble something about everyone thinking they're special to which this dimwit would-be voter replied, "I AM special."

I replied, "Lady, I'm special too and in case you haven't noticed, I'm handicapped. It HURT to walk over here. And that's MY driveway and I really want to just go get in bed. "

Only then did she apologize.

All anybody wants in this world is to be heard. That's all I wanted from that woman this morning. All it would have taken was, "Oh, I'm so sorry. It won't happen again."

But then that would take her admitting to doing something wrong in the first place. It seems that is a hard thing to do. And it really makes me wonder what these people are teaching their children. At this point, I think their primary educational objectives are: you are the only one that matters; you can do no wrong; Never worry about how your actions might affect someone else.

Now that's something to be sorry for.