Me singing Les Miz's "Bring Hme Home" at Church talent show

Post by Rocky Cigler.

Hospital Hospital oh how I love thee!

Seems I went and let myself get dehydrated again this past Monday. Its really a nasty little feeling to lose control of your arms and legs. Luckily, this time, I had my phone near me so I didn't have to crawl to it, hoping I'd make it. I knew what was going on because I had done the same thing a few years ago. You can read about it here:Pining For The Fjords

This time wasnt nearly as comical even though I SWEAR Miss Swan from Mad TV was a couple of beds over. I expected her to blurt out a "HE LOOKA LIKEA MAN!" but alas she never did. The poor woman did however sound just like the TV Character.

I was next to a homeless man who had been beat up for his beer. His name was Charles. He flirted with every female nurse that came in. His gravely voice  sounded like Karl (Billy Bob Thorton) the main character from the movie Slingblade. He was entertaining for a while until he had to go to the restroom and none of the nurses would come see him.

I try to see the humor in everything. Even while I had a barf bag in one hand these people made me chuckle.. or up-chuckle so to speak.
I apparently called two people while I was in the back of the ambulance. Id say it was a butt dial however it was more of a "barfdial". Nobody wants that phone call.. nobody.

Happy Birthday Dad!

Today is my dad's 88th birthday.  It has been a roller coaster life for him. When he was young he was in the Navy. He cleaned President Eisenhowers  ashtray when the former president traveled across the sea on the ship (The USS Baltimore) my dad was on. My dad went on to win World War II single-handedly (according to him). He often spins that tale to whoever will listen. He once told it in the VA clinic and was met by one man who yelled back "WELL I SURE AS HELL HELPED!!" Dad was a bit more careful who he regaled from that moment on.
  He had a stroke back in September of last year. It took a lot out of him. He'd had  a few mini strokes before that but fully recovered. This time his speech was a permanent reminder that he was no longer a threat to Hitlers evil empire.
  He went through the loss of his wife (my mother) 20 years ago. He had taken care of her while Alzheimers ravaged her memory and then her body.  He also cared for his own dad at the same time. His mission to care for both of his loved ones wasn't always a pretty sight and he had no business trying to carry that much weight on his shoulders but nobody could persuade him to do anything differently.  He may have conquered Germany but the burden of being with my mom and grandfather was too much for him. He had to bury his eldest son last year who died suddenly from the same heart condition I had. The loss of his eldest grandson and only great grandson from carbon monoxide poisoning was hard on him. Men from his era were never supposed to show weakness yet the refusal to take note of his emotions made those weaknesses shine like Times Square.
  Now I am the caregiver. My dad has been a burdensome task at times. He can still do a lot of things for himself but he finally had to let go of the dignity he feverishly clung to and submit to the embarrassment of adult diapers.
Dementia is a strange animal. There is no rhyme or reason to the task he can no longer perform and those he still retains. He can make his own instant coffee in the microwave yet cannot heat up the frozen pancakes that are a daily morning ritual in that same microwave although they take the same amount of time to make ready.
 His time is near. He is ready to go and has been ever since my mother passed away. This world holds no interest for him anymore.
I wish you a happy birthday Dad. I hope it was good for you.

Go Dogs Go!

My dogs just scared the crapola out of a campaign worker of the person I don't support. 

GOOD DOGGIES!!

Hey Mr Murderer.. Go away!

It's about 10pm and Im sitting watching television.  Well, I see somebody (Who shall be known as 'THE MURDERER') walk right in front of my door which they should not be doing since my house sits about 40 feet from the road which is longer than most murderers want to walk when they murder. My heart tried to push its way into my throat but luckily it stayed in place. I'm assuming when I had my open heart surgery that the doctor stitched it in there real good so it wouldn't go slippin out at inopportune times.
 My burglar alarms, named Baby (a 60lb Blue Heeler) and Princess Pooter Marie Von Sniffbutt (a 19 lb no-bellied Whippet) heard the murderer walking up to the door and began furiously warning me with their "THERE IS A MURDERER!!" barks which are very, very loud and make the mail deliverer pee her pants a little every time she comes to our mailbox. The dogs are a great warning system but the postmarks on my mail are from two years ago.
  Anyway.. I go to the door and flip on the porch light to see Mr. Murderer turn around, head the opposite direction and wave me off like when you give somebody the brush-off.  I guess he was like (in his best 1940's Italian movie gangster voice) "Nyaaaahhhh... I ain't murderin youz tonight.. I gots bettah tings ta do, capish?"
  I called the police and they came out surprisingly fast. The dogs were still barking prompting the officer to remark favorably on their murder repelling abilities.
At any rate, the murderer wasn't captured but I'm on the lookout for anybody who I think looks like a murderer. I'm also buying a pin-striped zoot suit to show the dogs what to look for.

To The Lady Wanting A Ride.

Just went to 7-11 to get eggs and there was a lady standing outside the store. She didn't say anything to me when I walked in but when I came out she very excitedly asked "Can You Take Me To My House??!!  Somebody Broke Into My House!! It's Just Right Over Here!!"

Well.. ok lady but answer me this:

Why are you standing outside a 7-11 if someone broke into your house? Did you run away? If so, why do you want to go back? If I know there are boogelers in my house I ain't going anywhere near it. I am hauling my fat hiney somewheres else and eating my weight in balogna sandwiches till I stop being scared.

Why aren't you walking towards your house if it's just "right over here?" Did you say to yourself "OH DEAR GOD THERE"S A BURGLAR IN MY HOUSE I NEED A SLURPEE!!!!"

No, probably not.

No.. the most logical answer is going to be that you are a "lot lizard" or in other terms..

A hooker. A lady of the evening. A prostitute. 

You wait in parking lots and then ask for a ride from unsuspecting gentlemen and large women that wear plaid. When you get inside the car you offer forth the terms of an agreement that concludes with them handing over their money or being killed by your "manager" or you yelling out the window that you are being molested.

I'm sorry maam. I can't do that.
I can't give you a ride.

It just didn't add up.

By the way.. if I'm wrong.. I am SO, SO Sorry!

Ode To My Drug Dealing Neighbors

Ode to my neighbors:

I see you, see you in the street
I see your head, I see your feet
I see you talk to passing cars
They come from places quite afar

I see you exchange this and that
I wonder "Goodness, what be dat?"
What oh what is going on?
You have nice cars
They be real phat

I see them come day and night
I see you get into a fight
Boom and bang
Smash and pow
I'm sure you don't follow Mao

I hope I hope, you get caught
I hope its soon I hope you rot
My neighborhood, has been ruined
By smackity smack and potty pot pot

Leave, leave and do it now
I'm having a fit and maybe a cow
You're scummity scum and dirty dirt dirt
You're in for a world of hurty hurt hurt.


Copyright 2012. All rights reserved

Life After Heart Surgery

Well It has been such a long time since I updated this blog. I had an excuse. Seems I had a heart valve that loved me so much it wanted to surprise me... with leaving.

Now.. Lord knows I haven't eaten as I should over the years and I thought "Well, I guess it serves me right". Come to find out my arteries were so clean you could let a toddler suck apple juice through them. THIS little gift was a complication of childhood strep throat. yes, my heart has been damaged since I was 7 years old. The leaky heart valve has been waiting and biding its time, crouched down behind the couch for 40+ years just so it could turn the lights on and yell "SURPRISE!!!" That's some patience right there!

I can see it... crouched down for all those years, waiting and plotting, suppressing an occasional giggle and biding it's time until it could reveal itself.

Well dearest heart valve..IT WASN'T FUNNY.. but danged if I wasn't surprised.

Carbohydrates: A Love/Hate Relationship.

I've been feeling kinda bad the past few years. I could launch into a HUGE soliloquy of what was going on but I'll spare you, my dear reader.

Seems I have SEVERELY underestimated what carbohydrates were doing to my blood sugars. I don't know why I didn't make the connection.. well, I do too know. My brain was starving from my blood turning to sludge because of consistently high blood sugar numbers. I am apparently very susceptible to the sugar from carbs.(Ok, who isn't) but I'm not talking about taste, I'm talking about the effect on my body. I've been CLUELESS about this.. clueless I tell you! Yes, I can hear what you're thinking "THAT AIN'T THE ONLY THING, BUDDY!" but, please indulge me and let me continue.

I have cut out most carbs from my diet and in TWO DAYS TIME. I have been able to cut my insulin needs by more than HALF!! (No, I'm not about to try and sell you a miracle product.. "And you get this Cutlery knife!!" just pay separate shipping..)

I've cut bread, pasta, potatoes and anything else that looks like a carb and thrown then right out the window. I almost threw my dad out the window (I was on a roll) but my brother caught me just in time.

I'm still in shock over this. I was taking TREMENDOUS AMOUNTS of insulin. BIG Amounts! Other diabetics would scream in horror when I told them how much I had to take. Doctors would Gasp! My next door neighbor took off her blouse and flashed me! ok, I think my neighbor has a lil sumpin else a goin rotten in her medulla oblongotcha, but thats a whoooole different story.

The fact is, I've been able to make a great turnaround in 48 hours! If my feet hadn't been amputated from the ankles down, I could have turned around MUCH faster! Just kidding, I still have both my feet..and several other pairs from God knows where.

Anyway, Thats about it, Now, I think I MIGHT live past 50. (Barring natural disaster, Acts of God and any future Paulie Shore movies.

Torturing My Dog.. and other fun past times.

I want to give my dog, Baby, a bath. Baby does not like baths. Not many dogs do. They like smelly things. They like being smelly. I can take Baby on a walk and she will pretty much take my arm off to get to a dead squirrel 50 yards away. I had a distant cousin who did the same thing but fortunately he wasn't let outside much. In that moment, there is nothing more important than for her to flop over on her back and swish back and forth until she been assured that the aroma of death has properly taken its place in her pores.

I used to give her a bath once a week but she quickly decided she was up to the act of war I had declared upon her and was not going to agree to any treaty no matter how many doggie biscuits I waved in front of her. I almost had her with some baked chicken one time but she was decidedly quicker on the draw and retreated with the chicken leg and without any type of moisture anywhere near her person. Apparently smelling like a deceased animal is extremely appealing and us humans are missing out.

Once, I was able to outsmart her. She loves to go on walks.. especially in the nearby cemetery. Yes, cemetery. Again, death comes into the picture. Baby seems to have a morbid side. Every time I pull out her leash she starts dancing around faster than a widow women at a full gospel church during a revival. I slipped the leash around her and then took her to the side of the house where the water hose is. I was able to get her wet down and even got some shampoo rubbed into her coat before she realized I was barefoot. I can barely see the scar now days.

I have tried my best to train her and I've gotten her to the point where I can say "Get into the tub" and she will jump in. Now this only works if I already have her IN the bathroom with the door shut..and locked. I also had to make myself clear that I wanted her to STAY in the tub. It was a loophole I naively overlooked at first. After I thought about it a bit I realized that making her get into the tub on her own was akin to when your parents were going to spank you and would make you go find a leather belt or go cut your own switch.

Over all, Baby is a good dog. She knows several commands and most of the time ignores them completely but by golly she knows what they mean. I keep her around because she makes me laugh and I'm getting accustomed to the smell of dead animals.

More Cataract Surgery

Well, It's been a little over a month since dads last cataract surgery and everything has gone just peachy. He's down to one round of eye drops a day and he is so thankful that they will be over soon. What he has yet to realize is that the rounds for the surgery on his OTHER eye will start the day after we stop on the first one. He ain't gonna be happy.

"Mr Blinky" has gotten a bit more familiar with the drops and doesn't struggle near as much...granted he still complains about it but at least I won't have to tie one end of a string to his eyelid and the other to the dog while tossing the cat over to the dogs supper dish.

Not looking forward to the next month of all those eye drops but if he will simply stop scurrying behind the couch every time they are due, I'd be happy. The dog keeps looking at him as if to say "He wanna givz u a baff too?"

I just finished cutting his hair because he wanted to be all nice and presentable for his surgery. I actually think he just wants to present a dashing figure to the pretty nurses.

(Psssst...Give it up dad, you haven't got enough money and I don't want a stepmother. If she told me to clean my room I'd be obligated to kill her.. a lot)

We usually cut his hair on the front porch. I do this for two reasons..One, so I won't have to vacuum the carpet and two, the hair blows into my neighbors yard. It's funny because Mr Johnson is white haired also and I can hear him complain to his wife that he's shedding. When you're stuck inside a house as a caregiver, you go for whatever entertainment you can get. Repeats of Bonanza and Gunsmoke every 4 hours just doesn't cut it and I've seen Mary Ingalls go blind at least 325 times.

A couple months ago, he got hearing aids for the first time. I am most thankful for those. The only problem I have is that he wants to take them out two hours before he goes to bed. I know when he's done it because the television volume rises about 20 decibels and my computer monitor starts to head towards the edge of the desk from the vibration. Today he said "I'm almost all fixed up, all I need are new legs" I told him I'd start looking for some at Walmart.

All in all it's been a good experience. I'm just ready for his eyes to be healed so he can start telling the difference between the toilet and the clothes hamper.

Cataract Surgery

Well, ol dad has not been able to see very well for the past few years and he decided he wanted to have Cataract surgery. Actually it was not so much his decision as it was the Veterans Administration. He went in to get new glasses and they said he couldn't have new ones until he had the surgery.

He wasn't happy.

Seems my grandmother, his mom, had cataract surgery 40 years ago and it didn't go well. He was scared to have it done. We tried to reassure him that great strides have been made in the past 40 years but he would not be deterred. The doctor also tried to reassure him but to no avail. He was positive he was destined to be blind and forced to sell pencils in front of the Walmart.
Every day closer to the surgery I heard the same thing..

"I sure wish this surgery was over with"

By the time the surgery was slated to occur, I was wishing the same thing.

Ever had to put drops into a childs ears or eyes? Well, 84 year old men, aren't much different. I've now come to refer to my dad as "Mr Blinky".
You have to start with the drops three days before the surgery. Mr Blinky did not like the drops. He did not like them at all. He would shut his eyes repeatedly. He would turn his head towards the pillow and shout "NO!" He would say "I have to go to the bathroom first" and when he came back, His eye would be rested from all the exercise and ready to start blinking all over again.
I was getting ready to drag him outside and hook his eyelid up to the bumper of my truck and pull it open with a chain.

The surgery day came upon us and off we went to the hospital. We had to be there two hours early in order to do paperwork. The paperwork only took 15 minutes. He had an hour and forty five minutes to worry himself to death so he wouldn't have to go through with it. He did his best to make that happen but darn his luck.. he didn't have enough time to make that massive heart attack happen before they called him in.

They told me the surgery would only take 45 minutes. The time came and went. I was beginning to get worried. If something went wrong I would never hear the end of it. They finally called my name and I went back to see him. he was sitting up in a chair with a huge patch over his eye. His first and only words to me were "I want Red Beans, Fried Potatoes and Cornbread for lunch". I figured he was going to be ok.. except that it takes several hours to make pinto beans.. he wasn't going to get them.

The eye drop ritual continues in the days after.. in fact we are still fighting that battle. He has calmed down little bit since he has seen that the drops weren't going to burn his cornea off and LOW AND BEHOLD!! HE CAN SEE!...but he still wears the title of "Mr Blinky" proudly. Maybe its just me but his eyelid seems to be more muscular. It does it's best to bat those drops right outta the way.

We get to start on the other eye next month.. I already have the chain hooked to the truck bumper.

You've Been Talking in Your Sleep..

Since I got the dog fixed, I haven't been getting a lot of sleep the past few days so I took some time to steal a nap today. It was reeeeaaaaaallly nice.. for a bit. I started to dream.. it was creeping into nightmare category when my dog jumped up on the bed and licked me in the mouth to wake me up.

I would not recommend letting your dog lick you in the mouth. It's gross..no matter how lonely you may be. I think it is also illegal in several states including Hawaii and Puerto Rico... oh wait.. that's for entering contest. Nevermind.

Anywhooo.. I dreamed that a bunch of bank employees had come into my home. They were there to escort my mother down to the bank to sign some legal papers. Now my mom has been dead for 15 years so I have no idea why she'd be coming back to do much of anything unless it was to yell at me to clean my bedroom.
So I'm standing there in my bedroom (Yes mom, I WAS embarrassed they saw the mess, you win) and the window was missing leaving a large hole in the wall. Two slovenly bank employees were standing right by the windowless window, smoking cigarettes. I have no idea what significance slovenly bank people have in my life or why I'd be dreaming of them but most of them I've met seem to bathe on a regular basis and they have the decency to stay out of my dreams.

So they wanted my mom to hurry up. I went to get her and I found her dressed in what I can only describe as a Leprechaun outfit.. a sequined leprechaun outfit. Now while I do not personally know any leprechauns, I do have some friends who are rather short in stature albeit none of them are hiding vast pots of gold or shouting out "They're magically delicious!! in an Irish brogue.

I informed my mom that she would have to change clothes and left. She came out of her bedroom in a gold lame evening gown. While bank employees do indeed, dress well, I felt she was still a bit overdressed for the occasion.

I don't know what happened next because that's when my dog jumped up on the bed and did that awful thing she did. I'm still gagging as I write this.

My Dog Hates Me Now

As in my last post I wrote that I was taking my Cattle Dog "Baby" to be spade. Well the big day came yesterday. One requirement was to have her rabies certificate to prove she'd had her shots but I could not find it. I was supposed to go back to the clinic and get a copy...which I forgot to do. She was to be at the clinic at 8:00am and at 2:00am I was furiously throwing the contents of my desk drawers onto the floor. Not that I'm messy and unorganized or anything but after sending in an application video of my house, the TV show "Hoarders" sent me a rejection letter that only had the words "Oh God NO!" written on it.
At any rate, I found the original certificate stuck to the side of my desk drawer with some old chewing gum.

The drive over was supposed to take 20 minutes according to Mapquest which I should have questioned after seeing "Last Updated June 1995" at the bottom of the screen.
We eventually got to the spay and neuter clinic where Baby flew out of the truck after spotting a potential new boyfriend in a handsome Beagle. (I hated to tell her that her timing was WAY off on this one.)

I reluctantly left her and continued home to wait until I could pick her up. When I went back, she was happy to see me. She was also happy to see the wind and various other objects that were apparently dancing merrily around in her head. She drunkenly walked with me to the truck, stumbling like a frat girl on her way to an eventual early morning "Walk Of Shame."

She had to wear a plastic lampshade on her head to keep her from licking her stitches. I understood the reasons since my elderly dad once had surgery and I had a heck of a time trying to stop him from doing the same thing.

My outside cat normally tries his best to ignore Baby who usually tries to get him to play when he comes into the house but this time he spotted the lampshade on her head, saw how lethargic she was and stopped dead in his tracks. He stared at her as if to say "What the crap is that"?

Since she has awakened a bit more as the day has progressed shes made the best of her situation and used the cone to scrape up the snow from the ground and throw it up in the air to catch it in her mouth... I took it as a hint to fill up her water bowl.

She's doing better now and is alternately pawing at the cone then pawing my hand to take it off.

It's going to be a long week.

No Grandpuppys For Me, Thank You..

I'm taking my Cattle Dog, Baby, to get her sterilized in a couple days. I have mixed feelings about this. While I definitely do not want any smaller versions of her obliterating rolls of toilet paper on the living room carpet the way she does, it makes me wonder if I am doing her a disservice by taking away the chance to be a mother.

Is she going to get into her 30's (in doggie years) and start to feel the tick of her biological clock? Will she walk the isles at Petsmart and start to shed tears when she sees a newborn with its mother? Will she miss the memories of having to make pizza rolls for her adult son that lives in her basement, typing in caps on heated Star Wars forums and who forgets her birthday?

Somehow, I doubt it.


The most difficult thing about it is having to wear one of those plastic lampshades on her head for a week. She is going to go nuts. Having worn a plastic lampshade on my head during a wild party years ago and not getting any laughs.. I can feel her pain. I will have a few laughs at her expense, especially after I distribute several nuggets of her dry dog food on the floor and exclaim "LOOK! SHES A VACUUM CLEANER!" to whoever has the misfortune of visiting.


Poor thing.. She has no idea what she is in for...

What I Want For My Funeral.

Dear Family and Friends:

Since I have been surrounded by the passing away and illnesses of close friends the past few months I have been thinking about what I want if my time to cross the pearly gates comes anytime soon.

First of all, I must insist on NO OPEN CASKET! I don't want to be displayed like a Christmas window at Macys for everyone to come by and gawk at. They prop your head up at a 90 degree angle with a lacy pillow that forces your double chin to become much more pronounced, making people wonder if your bloodline had been previously infiltrated by an AKC registered bloodhound.

I don't care what you do with my body. You can wait till midnight and throw my happy hiney over the cemetery gates if you want. You may put me in the back of the truck, take me to a field and declare an all you can eat to the animal kingdom. Donate me to science and see if they can find a cure for bacon addiction. I really don't care.

What I DO Want:

I want mostly music for my memorial service. I don't want a traditional funeral. Open the church up for several hours on that day and play the songs that touched my heart. Let people come and go as they please all day long. They can come in, sit down, listen, then leave when they have had enough or they need to go to the bathroom.

Start with songs I loved as a child. Jesus Loves Me is perhaps the first one I ever learned. Then play "Silent Night" and "Away in A Manger" because I vividly remember learning those in Kindergarten.

I would like the following songs included: You may have to Google the titles.

"There's Always Tomorrow" from Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer (The one Clarice sings to Rudolph)

"Let The Sun Shine In" The one Pebbles and BamBam sang on The Flintstones.

"The Hukilau Song" I remember when I was in the nursery at an Elementary school program. I wasn't in school yet but my older brother was and some of the kids did this song. I have loved it ever since.

The following songs from my teen and adult years need to be included.

Copacobana by Barry Manilow. Yes that's right, I said it.. Copacobana. I am a Fanilow and I don't care who knows it. I would prefer a motorized mirror ball be hung somewhere in the church when these start to play and a spotlight shined on it. What can I say.. disco is still alive and will rule forevermore in my heart. If people want to come in and dance.. let them flail their arms to their hearts content. I wouldn't want it any other way.

The following songs need to be added:

Brick House by The Commodores
Shake Your Booty by KC and the Sunshine Band
Shake Your Groove Thing By Peaches and Herb
Flashlight by Parliament


Now, lets get a bit serious:
I want some songs that made my spirit soar. Songs that God used to touch me to the center of my soul. Oh.. please turn off the mirror ball when these start..

I've Just Seen Jesus by Sandi Patty and Larnelle Harris
Friends by Michael W Smith
We Shall Behold Him by Sandi Patty
Bethlehem Morning by Sandi Patty (Hmmm.. seeing a pattern here?)
Oh Holy Night
What Child Is This
Bound For Jubilee
Dream On by Larnelle Harris


I want it to end with this one:
Somewhere Over The Rainbow by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole

Well.. that's it.. a little humor.. but I'm serious about this. Let the music tell my story. It will do it better than anyone else could.

See you on the other side Joe.

This is about my childhood friend, Joe Moos. He passed away on Sunday, September 26th 2010.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Well Joe, you certainly messed up our plans to establish a retirement home for crotchety old Carter-Riverside guys. We won't be able to sit out on the porch, wave our canes in the air and yell at the kids to get off our lawn. I was looking forward to that. You lived a long life in your 46 years, much longer than others your same age.



I don't know why but I clearly remember when I first met you. You were about 4 years old when I rode my bicycle passed your house on my way to Tootsie Hartsells house to play with Rena and Glenda. You chased me down the sidewalk and yelled at me to get away from your house. I guess you thought I was a menacing, 6 year old threat.



We became friends over the years, You, Me, Gary Foster and Michael Trevino. Our summer days were spent riding our bikes through the creek, skateboarding all over the neighborhood, playing hide and go seek in the cemetery and throwing water balloons at cars from all the hiding places in that same cemetery. All of you are gone now, first Michael, then Gary, now you. You all left way too early.. and took a part of my childhood with you.



We watched you as diabetes took the youth away from your body.. but not your soul. The failed kidney transplants, the stints in your arteries, the leg amputation, the fire that burned you all over your upper body, the more than 30 surgeries you endured.. Yet, you never gave up. You never cried "Uncle" or let it stop you from doing what you wanted to do. Lesser men would have given up. Lesser men would have let the darkness take over, but you didn't. You didn't throw in the towel, you didn't roll over. You saw your limitations and said "Ahhh Screw-em". You worked hard until the moment you took your final breath on earth and your first one while being embraced in the loving arms of God.



You were the quintessential crotchety but lovable old fart. We were even laughing about it as we said goodbye to you in the hospital. Your rants and raves when somebody didn't do to suit you. When they didn't do as promised. When they seemed to have forgotten you and didn't call. I can emphatically say now "It's their loss".



It's not going to be the same without you. No more phone calls while you waited for your dialysis to be done. No more conversations about barbecue pits, catching feral cats or what items the grocery stores had on sale that week. I'll miss the calls about which neighbors were just picked up by the cops or needed code enforcement called on them. I'll have to stay in better contact with other neighbors to see how they are because you did that for me. You were always up to date with those who had moved on years before and those that were still around.



You refused when I offered you one of my kidneys. You told me "I've had two failed transplants, I don't want to chance it again. I don't want to take a good kidney from somebody that needs it. " Joe, That spoke volumes to me. I still wished you would have taken it but I understood.



So, goodbye Joe. I'm glad you are out of pain. You don't have to worry about your blood sugar any longer or be prisoner in your own body. You are free. It was good knowing you.

Tree Cat

After taking some of the feral cats to the Humane Society I found that news travels fast in the cat world and that the word was out that there were vacancies at my house. A new cat decided to move in. Apparently cats have their own social networking that rivals Facebook and MySpace.. and they interact solely by peeing on things. It seems so much more simple and cost effective than buying a computer and subscribing to internet services but for now I think I'll stick to the later of the two although I will certainly keep my options open just in case my financial situation should take a turn for the worse.

The new cat that moved in seems to live in a tree in my front yard. I do not think it's his particular choice of living arrangement but one that has been thrust upon him by the other cats that live under the house. For some reason the other cats derive a particular sense of glee from chasing him up the tree then lay in wait for some misstep that will bring him back down for them to murder or worse, sell him Amway. He is one of the ugliest cats I've ever seen and that could be good reason why they show disdain. I never knew cats were so shallow.

I have named this cat "Froggy Knotts". His meow sounds more like a frog's croak, especially when he is scared and wants me to rescue him, which is quite often. He also shakes like a leaf when he sees another cat and reminds me of all the characters that Don Knotts ever portrayed. Of course it could simply be that he has been approached by way too many Amway selling felines.

Froggy is very loving and affectionate. He will sit beside me on the couch and watch TV with me. He seems much more attentive to movies with Julia Roberts but when we watched "My Best Friends Wedding" he hopped down, went to the fridge and popped open a beer. I wouldn't have minded so much but it was my last one.

Froggy normally just stays in the tree, waiting for me to come outside where he can yell at me that the other cats won't let him come down out of the tree. I just tell him to suck it up because it's the same tree that I had to climb to get away from my older brothers when I was young. If I can do it.. so can he.

I've yet to discover how cats can communicate with one another by spraying urine all around the place. It obviously works just fine.

I will stick to my email and Facebook pages for now but if your front porch starts to obtain a less than fresh odor to it.. it may mean that I came to visit while you were not at home.. and I left a message.

Alas, poor feral cats.. I knew thee well..

Well.. I hated to do it but I had to get rid of some feral cats. There were nine of them in and around my yard. They were entertaining as a barrel of monkeys but the damage they were causing outweighed the entertainment value.

I live in Texas.. It's hot here in case you didn't know. It's also humid. Humidity, heat and cat poop do not a lovely aroma make. If you have ever lived downwind from any type of livestock or maybe a family of hippies, you know how bad it can become in the summertime, which in the state of Texas, starts in December and ends the next October. We get a whole month to enjoy a cool breeze... and when I say "cool breeze" I mean it's a little less stifling than being shoved into a barbecue pit during a cook off.

Anyway.. the poop was getting to be a problem. I wasn't sure if it was the cats or the hippies but I had to do something quickly because when I mowed the yard.. It would fling fresh poo into the open windows of cars passing by. The drivers had the windows open because in Texas, car A/C pretty much gives up after a year or two from sheer exhaustion and probably a bit of depression.

So I went to Home Depot to get an animal trap. I had trouble with that because I never realized how many different types of animal traps were out there. There are traps for squirrels, raccoons, possums and just about any type of animal that may be pooping in your yard. I didn't however, find one for hippies. One thing that surprised me was that NONE of them would say they were for trapping cats. I figured animal activist had complained to the trap manufacturer and thought that if it didn't say it was for trapping wild cats, people wouldn't catch on and leave the cute fluffy things alone.

I live on a very busy street. The cats have a huge propensity for chasing each other out into the street. I'm not sure if it's because they dare each other to run out there or the kitty mafia has a hit out on them for non payment of their ever increasing kibble habit. I'm really tired of seeing them get run over.

They are also under assault from larger wild animals that live in the near by cemetery.

Bottom line is.. its not fair to them to have to live with that danger. I have gotten a couple of them trained where they are receptive to humans but some have been wild for way too long and prefer to stay that way. It's for the best even though my heart tells me differently.

Now if I could just find a place that will take wild hippies...

I am rich.

I've blogged here before about taking care of my dad. It's been a blessing in disguise. At first, I truly thought I was going to be descending into the darkest parts of hades when I saw that he could no longer live alone. I truly sought God out for what he would have me do and I know I did the right thing.

We live on his social security check. It's not always easy and we don't have everything we want but we DO have everything we need. Everything.

I had a broken down Isuzu pickup that would not pass inspection. I had hoped to get it fixed but we couldn't scrape enough money together to do so. The other day I decided to sell it. I put it on Craigslist and as soon as it posted, people started calling, and kept calling. The first person that showed up, bought it. $450.00. It was a good price.

I had some errands to run so I went running around town, I went to the church to give my tithe. Why I didn't wait till Sunday I do not know but I felt compelled to tithe before I spent any of it. I then went to pick up something for my dads lunch. I had not been back in the house but a few minutes when a lady knocked on the front door. She had my wallet in her hand. I did not know I had dropped it. She said she found it down the street.

All the money was gone. I was going to go deposit it but hadn't had time.

I had peace with it. I didn't get upset. God was telling me.. It's going to be ok.

So I decided to ask friends to pray for the person that took it. I want God to bless them for it is His kindness that brings us to repentance. Hopefully, they will realize what they have done and have a change of heart.

Bless those who curse you.