An Essay, by Che

Entitled, How I Spent My Fourth of July Holiday.

My Dad took me and Yma for a long walk. A VERY long walk.

Two days later my pawpads swelled up to frightening proportions, and I had to go to the vet. He says I have soft feet, and that I have been licking my sore pads too much.

Now I'm a member of the Dish Network.

Dad says our television reception has never been so great, he's going to cancel the cable. Haha.

I'm going to bite him when he's not looking. 

If I Didn't Know I Was Married Before....

I certainly would now.

I just asked my husband to smell spoilt milk, whilst he was sitting on the toilet demanding I come to see the enormous hairball he had just retrieved from the shower drain.

Ah, us and our glamorous life.

Stella The Dog Psychic Chihuahua

Did I ever mention that I believe Che and Yma are psychic? For one thing, they always seem to know when I still have a biscuit in my pocket. And they can sense when Scott is home from work even before he gets to the door! True!!

I think they have psychically nudged me to find this ebay item, as they would like to have their own careers in fortune telling. At $25 a reading.

Which they can do many, many times per day.


Expert Psychic Reading Stella The Dog Psychic Chihuahua
Visionary Advice From Amazing Top Dog Psychic
Item number: 9514750105

Seller: psychicchihuahua ( 0 )
Member since Jan-22-06 in United States
Current bid: US $25.99
Time left: 6 days 13 hours
7-day listing
Ends May-06-06 12:00:00 PDT
Item location: norwalk, CT United States
Ships to: Worldwide


Summary

It's well known that animals can sense our emotions, thoughts and feelings. There are numerous, proven instances of animals sensing events far in advance of their occurrence. STELLA THE PSYCHIC CHIHUAHUA is one such creature with exactly that ability! ; It was as a Puppy that STELLA first showed the Mysterious Gift of Prophecy and Divination, when STELLA opened and Read the Tarot. When asked questions, STELLA used the Cards to Give A Reading. Amazingly, that first reading soon proved Absolutely Accurate in Every Respect! ; STELLA has shown, Time and Time again, that the Psychic Ability transcends race, creed, culture and species. STELLA delves right to the core of the all of our most Important questions! Relationship issues? Career worries? Money problems? Make use of the astonishing abilities of STELLA, THE PSYCHIC CHIHUAHUA to get the answers You Need! ; Now, for the first time on eBay, you may bid on a very special reading by Stella.; As the winning bidder, you will be entitled to send an e-mail for Stella with five questions about love, money, career, family, your pets, or whatever are your most pressing issues.; Stella will respond with a reading answering your questions via e-mail within 24 hours.; We guarantee that you will find the experience most fulfilling and exciting.; Best of luck in bidding!


I swear, some days this blog just writes itself. Good luck bidding, and please note that the above paragraph --- including the extraneous semi-colons --- is the sole property of Stella The Dog Psychic Chihuahua. If you abuse her rights, SHE WILL KNOW.

The Strange Incident of the Bee in the Night

A terrible thing happened the other night, and it happened because I was trying to put something over on my husband.

I was sneaking to bed --- sneaking, because I had stayed up past 0430. Scott knows I get cranky when I stay up that late, so he really gives me crap when I do.

So, I snuck out of the bathroom, shutting off the light as I went. My plan was to get undressed in the spare room, so I wouldn't wake my husband. Only, somehow, I got confused where the door was and walked straight into the WALL.

With my FACE.

To illustrate this, stand up and take one good-sized, purposeful step in any direction. Notice how much speed you've picked up without even trying. Now imagine the unstoppable force that is your face coming to a sudden and unexpected stop by connecting with the immoveable object that is your house.

NOW you're getting the picture.

I staggered backwards, literally seeing stars. And completely confused, of course, as to what had happened --- expecting a door, I find a wall. I managed to get the bathroom light on and grabbed a handtowel to staunch the bleeding; I was conscious enough to select a red one.

Batting a couple of those annoying cartoon birds out of the way, I stumbled to the bedroom to wake Scott, being a complete coward and too scared to assess the damage on my own.

"'Ott. 'OTT!!" I choked through my mouthful of towel and blood. "'Ott, 'ake uh."

"Wha..." my beloved murmured from the land of Nod.

"'Ake uh, I ur eye ow, OW!" ::gurgle::

"What did you do now?!"

QUINN ::more gurgling::

SCOTT ::sympathetic wincing, followed by a leap into action::

When all was said and done, it ended up that the force of the blow caused me to bite THROUGH MY OWN LIP!! Scott gave me an icepack, asked me if I wanted to go to the emergency room (which didn't sound like a great idea; showing up at 0500 with a split lip, who's gonna believe I did it myself??), then put me to bed.

I'm pretty sure the inside cut could have used some stitches, but who the hell wants to get stitches inside their mouth?? Not me!!! I'm mainly feeling it in my pride, and my lip is ENORMOUS, but it looks like it's already starting to heal.

I also spent the rest of the night dreaming that I had knocked all my teeth out. So much for my secret life of deception, huh?

The North and The South

Scott and I went to a new restaurant the other night, only to have this random guy come over to our table and start talking to us. Turns out it was a manager, doing a table-side customer satisfaction survey. He was happy to discover we are (temporarily) transplanted northerners, as he himself was from New Jersey.

Unfortunately, he had in the course of his seven years in Georgia picked up the southern habit of standing around smiling at people. Not really saying anything, just nodding and smiling.

Which for northerners is pure torture. Do I keep looking at you? Am I supposed to say something now? Would it be impolite for me to finish my dinner, or just get up and walk away from you? How long are you going to keep standing there??? FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, JUST BACK OFF, MAN!!

I started a temp job a few weeks ago, and everyone is very nice, but they're so damned friendly, I don't know what to make of it. Back home, people just aren't that nice; they don't look you in the eye, and they sure as hell don't say hello to every person they see. Back home, if someone is talking to you on the street, they are either schizophrenic or they have one of those headphones on for their mobile.

Back home, I make friends by being sarcastic and funny; I know if I make a joke about W, the crowd will be putty in my hands. Down here, even the college kids have W stickers on their SUV's. Hippies are about as rare as hen's teeth, and the few goths I've seen look like they really are just doing it to piss off their parents.

There's just nowhere for loudmouth liberal bohos like me and Scott to fit in. I know they have to be around somewhere, but I can't see them through the crowds of gently smiling and nodding southerns in my way.

Che's Survey Answers

All About Me!!!
Name:	Che
Date of Birth:	April 9, 2002
Place of Birth:	Somerset, Ohio
Where you live now:	Augusta, GA
Type of animal:	dog
Breed:	Chihuahua
Favorite Toy:	whichever is newest, haha
Favorite Store:	I hate stores.
Favorite Brand of Food:	Kibbles and Bits and Chunks and Cheese Straws Yummies
Favorite Color:	blood red
In the past month have you been to a pet supply store such as petco...ect:	Nope.
In the past month have you been to the vet:	Nope, I'm a healthy boy.
Dogs Only
Collar or Harness:	collar
Retractable Leash or Regular Leash:	regular
Wet Food or Dry Food	dry
Ceramic Bowl, Metal Bowl or Plastic Bowl:	metal
Do you sleep in a crate:	Yup!
Rawhides or squeaky toys:	Rawhides!!! Right now, please!!!
Everyone
How many toys do you have:	About a dozen in regular rotation, plus a couple back ups.
Do you like to swim:	NO!!!
Do you chase bugs outside:	No, I chase squirrels and birds.
Do you like fluffy blankets to sleep on:	No, I want the whole bed!
Favorite Treats:	C-O-O-K-I-E-S!!!! Mmmmmm.
CREATE YOUR OWN! - or - GET PAID TO TAKE SURVEYS!

Our Fifth Wedding Anniversary

...is coming up. Here's a look back, happy anniversary, darling.

 
 

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These guys are very sincere, check it out for yourself. I'm sure you won't be disappointed.

Happy Birthday to Me

An elderly married couple is taking the very first plane trip of their lives. Unfortunately, the entire flight is troubled with severe turbulence; up, down, back, forth...the couple are terrified and ill the whole time. Finally, they land safely. The wife turns to the husband and says, "That's the last time I fly United."


My husband gave me the best present for my 40th birthday; he bought me a ticket to Ohio, to spend a long weekend with my girlfriends.

I haven't seen them since our move South in August, so this was a treat beyond imagining. We ate a LOT, and we spent long hours talking and drinking wine. When we got bored with that, we went shopping. Heaven!

However... (There's always a "however", isn't there?)

I am a poor traveler. Beyond poor, actually. I get extremely anxious. When I'm anxious, I get snippy. No, I get MEAN. This is why I carry sedatives with me at all times. And this trip was, bar none, the worst travel experience of my life.

On the way to the airport in Columbia, SC (approximately an hour plus drive from our place in Augusta) we realized that the transmission on the effing car was going. AGAIN. The entire drive was an agony of "will we make it, won't we make it", and in fact we got to the airport with only a half hour for me to check in and board.

This might be plenty of time for the average traveler, but I need at least two hours, just so I can be sure I have time to pee every time I pass a restroom (just another weird travel quirk I have), get something to eat, peruse the magazines, etc.

I was so late, I couldn't even check my bags. Since I had elected to carry my incredibly cute vintage luggage, this was a problem. They are small and absolutely adorable, but seriously must weigh about 30 pounds apiece. And now I had to haul them from the parking lot, through the terminal, to the gate, to the plane side baggage check.

Where I discovered that the plane I would be taking was one of those tiny little pseudo planes.

"Send it back," I howled, "I want its mother!"

To no avail. But I did get marked as a trouble maker, which is always comforting in this age of undercover air marshalls with concealed weapons.

Well, anyway, I made it ok. The real trouble didn't start until the flight home.

I got to the airport in plenty of time, checked my cute but heavy luggage, had my pick of the magazines, and settled in for a restful wait at the gate. The first leg of the trip, from Columbus to Cincinnati wasn't too bad. There was a some turbulence, and the guy beside me wouldn't share the armrest, but that part of the flight was only an hour, so ok, not intolerable.

Cincinnati to Columbia, though....ugh. Started out ok, my seat mate was a college aged guy, one of a group of three; his buddies were seated behind us. He made a joke during the safety demonstration, I laughed; I couldn't find the switch for my personal light when the cabin lights went off, he assisted me. We had established a rapport, which was exactly what I wanted; now that we were friends, the armrest was mine!

Then we took off. And the plane immediately started bucking like a wild bronco. Reading was out of the question. Then the plane...dropped... I actually moaned in fear, prompting the woman across the aisle to pat my arm, and the business man diagonally from me to loudly explain "to his companions" that turbulence was just like a boat crossing waves, REALLY NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT HAHA EVERYTHING IS JUST FINE.

It's a boat on the waves, it's a boat on the waves, I repeated to myself, as the plane continued its mad gyrations.

Then, the motion sickness set in.

I happen to get motion sickness from everything. (See posts regarding recent Disney vacation.) I get motion sickness from watching movies in an Imax theatre. I get motion sickness if I have to look back and forth between two software programs. I get motion sickness turning the car around in a parking lot.

Because I get motion sickness to such a, well, sickening degree, I always carry candied ginger with me. And ginger Altoids. And I drink a lot of ginger ale, which is great for washing down saltines. So it's not like I'm not prepared. But on this trip, my candied ginger and my ginger Altoids were in my bag. Under the seat in front of me. Which I couldn't reach without leaning over. Which I couldn't do without throwing up.

Curses. Many, many curses.

Ah, well, I muttered to myself, I will get some ginger ale and crackers from the flight attendant when they bring the cart around.

Bong! The Captain lit the seat belt sign. Well, you know, re-lit the sign, just to call our attention to the fact that he had something to say. And what he had to say was, basically, turbulence is bad, moving around the cabin is unsafe, so no food service for you.

No food service! That means no ginger ale! That means no saltine crackers! I checked my watch. 45 more minutes to Columbia. Argh.

So, for the next 45 minutes I fought my constant urge to be violently ill, I checked my watch compulsively, I cursed the entire air travel industry, and I literally cried with fear as the plane continued to buck and roll and threaten to fall from the sky. I couldn't help it, the tears just leaked out from beneath my lashes. I was crying very stoically, but crying nonetheless.

The guy beside me, the nice young college guy?

SNORING. SOUND ASLEEP. COULD NOT HAVE CARED LESS.

How I envied him. I tried to sleep, but had to keep opening my eyes to fix on the "X" of the Exit sign, in order to keep from throwing up.

The final horror, however, occurred after the flight was --- FINALLY --- over. As soon as we taxied to the gate, I collected my stuff and stood in the aisle, desperately waiting to deplane. Then I smelled the most foul, evil odour; one of the college boys had farted. But not just farted; it was the mother of all farts. I was certain I would not make if off the plane before being well and truly sick over every single person in my vicinity.

But I did, of course. The one good thing about those puddle jumpers is you get to deplane onto the tarmac, which means you get to be out in the fresh cold air immediately; you just have to make it to the cabin door and you're home free. So I took a minute to stand in the rain and just breathe.

And to decide then and there that the next time I got on a plane would be for my fiftieth birthday. And not a minute sooner.