Pandemonium at Petco!

Again, back story first. My car collision was more than two months ago, but I am still “enjoying” the pain-numbing effects of a Fentanyl patch, such as lack of energy, emotional instability, forgetfulness that my arm doesn’t work right yet and frequent break-outs as a sweaty mess when I do too much.

Fast forward to yesterday when I attempted a fieldtrip because one dog is late on his rabies shot and the other dog is due.  The close and handy Petco (read: not in the ghetto) only has a shot clinic on Friday night and we had a conflict. SO, my two daughters and I along with the two pooches planned a mid-morning trip to another not-so-handy and not-close-at-all Petco (read: in the ghetto).  Little did we realize that everyone who lives in the slums also decided to get their dogs’ rabies shots yesterday morning.  The pain patch + 2 squirrely dogs + Petco full of dogs and “interesting” people = pandemonium to the third degree.

We parked in the lot and discussed who would hold the leashes while we crossed traffic and entered the store BEFORE we opened any of the doors.  That was the only moment when things went down as planned.  Being unable to hold a yanking-leash in my right hand, I held onto my little girl’s hand.  My big girl held the wiener dog and had the rat terrier on a leash. So far. So good.

As we entered the store, Ringo, the wiener dog decides to announce our arrival with his big-dog voice and won’t shut up, which invited all the other dogs in the store to welcome us as well.  I glanced to my right and saw the clinic table set up and three people in line. We made our way down the center aisle of the store with our heads glued to the right as we were overcome row after row at the length of the line. Finally toward the rear of the establishment, we discovered our place right behind an over-fed and under-socialized huge yellow lab.  At our arrival, the lab went ballistic barking and pulling his owner off balance (a full grown man) to get to our puny doggies.

Breathing deeply though my nose to gain composure and accept the fact that we were in for a long wait, I suggested to my eldest that she get a cart to put our doggies in for their own protection. In the blink of an eye, the red leash on the rat terrier was handed to the little nine-year-old hand that didn’t close in time to stop the escape of Trixie.  Without thinking (obviously) I screamed, “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” which was pretty obvious….. she was not holding the dog leash.  It has been many years since I have moved that fast.  Trixie was running with her ears back and her tail tucked and was bee-lining for the front door. It must have been quite a sight for all the people standing in line seeing the teeny white dog dragging a red leash followed by the flash of a woman at the end of the row. Near the registers I was able to step on the end of the leash and clothesline the AWOL fugitive.  Trixie’s head stayed in place and I’m sure she was trying to figure out why her tail just passed her head. While reaching down to grab the red restraint, my sun glasses tumbled out of my purse and made a sizable raucous to draw more attention to the woman who couldn’t control her tiny mongrel.

Victoriously I gathered my glasses and my hound and casually walked back to the rear of the store not making eye contact with anyone who just witnessed the overthrown departure (read: hot sweaty mess, shaky hands, emotionally volatile).  A ten-year-old terrier wasn’t going to get the best of me.  No sirree.

As previously planned, my eldest went to retrieve a cart to protect our pets.  Meanwhile, back in the ghetto, Jim Bob’s homemade collar on the fat yellow dog gave way and the mutt pounced on my pup.   His owner sluggishly slurred, “Well, how’d that happen?” as he slowly made moves to re-tethered his pooch.  That dog was going to have to get through ME to have one mini sniff at my dog’s rear end!  Not happening.

At that moment, I didn’t care how lofty the fines were for not meeting the deadlines for rabies shots.  “We are leaving NOW,” slipped out through my tight lips and we made our way back through the shop, crossed the poorly planned parking lot traffic and went home.  Before collapsing on my bed I took three ibuprofen (because stabbing pain was searing through my arm) and two stool softeners for good measure.

Come back next week for Friday night’s version of Rabies Shots 2nd Attempt.

 

The Old has become New

Remember back in April when I spent all my birthday money at Goodwill on 50% off day with visions of a shabby chic backyard?  Well, it is slowly materializing!  Finally!  I found this top from a girl’s bedroom set… maybe from the bed or a desk hutch… and I could envision a garden shelf dealie to stack my pots and hang my tools.

Then I looked for MONTHS for a bottom piece to store my dirt and fertilizer and turtle kneeling pad.  I think it was in August or September that I happened on this gem at Goodwill… on another 50% off day!  Sweet mother of baby Jesus!  It was perfect.  The guy at the store told me that it came in from a monastery full of religious books all in Chinese.  So half of the finished product was in the ministry.  :o) 

After much painting and sanding and hammering 1×4’s on the back so it doesn’t fall and kill a small child or dog… it is finished!  My husband took one look at the finished product and asked, “So you had all that junk?”  Nice, eh?  Yes, I did… and one man’s junk is his wife’s treasure.  I actually will use the junk, well, most of it.  The ceramic butterfly in the center was handmade by my six-year-old self in Renton, Washington in a ceramics class at a neighbor’s house.  The rest is truly junk.  Not the butterfly.

We did have a near catastrophe whilst waiting for the 1×4’s to be nailed on the back.  I had it set up in the middle of our back porch… clearly capable of falling and killing a small child or dog.  The wind whipped up a gale to behold and knocked the top right off.  It fell backwards, hit the NEW, glass patio table, got a big bash-in on the back piece and fell to the ground.  Shoot.  I put the big tin plate on the top shelf in front of the bash-in evidence.  All is well now.  Why would anyone need this in their yard, you ask?  Because now my gardening gloves won’t get chewed and buried by the dogs.  That’s really what this was all about…. me having to repeatedly replace my flimsy gardening gloves from the dollar store.  See, all is well now. (I have since planted those violas in those six pots in the little green stand on the right.  They are darling.)

Go Diamondbacks!

Last night was homeschool night at the Diamondback’s baseball game.  Naturally we asked the kids who was interested in going.  With one glance at the calendar, I realized it was transforming into date night… not family night at the ballpark.  Our eldest was babysitting. Our two youngest were invited to a birthday party. And my personal favorite opt-out excuse was from our eldest son…. who was heading downtown to feed the homeless.  What can you say to that?  “See you after the seventh inning stretch!” 

Lo and behold, it was also Bark at the Park night…. where people take their dogs to the game.  A BASEBALL game.  Good grief.  I’m not really a dog lover, but we do have a dog.  I wouldn’t dream of taking her to a game.  One question ran amuck in my mind all during the game…. where do they do their business?  Seriously… who thought of this??? Instead of the Kiss-Cam during the breaks between innings, there was the Pooch Smooch.  It was really sort of sad.  Will they have cat night next?  Or guinea pig night?

Another distraction was a group of three girls who were probably eight or nine, who weren’t actually supposed to be sitting in front of us, but they ended up there.  I discovered that they just met each other, but I would never have guessed by the way they were brushing each other’s hair, sharing chapstick and hugging one another.  I love that kids make friends so easily.  I didn’t have the heart to ask them to sit down 27 times so I could see the game that I wasn’t really interested in a whole lot.

Distraction #27 was the heat.  I realize we live in Phoenix, Arizona, but there was some humidity last night that made the 102 degrees feel like 112.  Metal seats didn’t aid the situation.

Distraction #87 was my sweet husband, who is not a baseball fan, repeatedly asking questions about rules, plays and all those numbers and letters on the scoreboard.  I’m not sure his appreciation of the American pastime grew at all last night, but he seemed to have a good time. And he did participate in the wave.

To top off the night, the D-backs won 6 to 4…. which means we eat three free tacos each at Taco Bell tonight.  Every time they score at least six runs, the next day is free tacos.  Thanks to the D-backs high scoring season, we have cut our grocery bill quite a bit with free taco night!  Yes!

Small Things Amaze Small Minds

Here is a list of the current things amusing the three men in my home:  (ages 42, 12 & 10)

1.  Recording their voices speaking low and slow into a hand held tape recorder and playing it back at fast and slow speeds.  Seriously, they are killing themselves laughing right now… all three of them.  It makes them talk like Yoda     with    spaces    between    the    words.

2.  Sucking helium balloons and talking like Mickey Mouse.  We were at my niece’s jr. high graduation and they stole the decorations and sucked air in the van all the way home.  And they ALWAYS yell in the squeaky voice, “I’m going to Disneyland!”

3.  Laughing like clowns in funny vibrato voices until everyone is laughing.  Keeve is the master at this one.  He sounds like Woody Woodpecker having an attack of the laughs.

Here is a list of the current things amusing the two women in my home: (ages 43 & 15)

1.  Asking Rick over and over why we have to drive 5 miles to pick up free flea treatment for our dog that doesn’t have fleas.  Seriously, I asked him this three or four times and he was getting mad at me, because he was distracted and doing something else on the computer at the time, and didn’t realize I was egging him on.  Larisa and I thought it was hilarious.  I kept saying, “But she doesn’t have fleas!”  He kept insisting, “But we take her places!” 

2.  Listening to Rick explain how he knew he was eating macaroni and cheese because he saw the box!  I told Larisa it was perfectly al dente and Rick refused to believe me… IT WAS MAC-N-CHEESE….. not al dente… HE SAW the BOX!  He was not going to be fooled by his women!  Again, Larisa and I couldn’t stop laughing…. at my dear husband’s expense.

Never a dull moment here at the Crosby house.

Heaven on Earth……… well, close.

We are going on our annual trek to Lake Tahoe today.  I L-O-V-E  Lake Tahoe.  The smell of the pine trees.  The bright purple lupine swaying in the wind next to the crystal clear blue water.  The gigantic pine cones.  The paths of crunchy pine needles.  The brilliant blue jays.  The slow pace.  The laugh-til-you-hafta-run-to-the-bathroom games with our dear friends.  This year marks 30 years that we’ve been friends.  We’re officially old now.

Packing for Tahoe is like packing for no other destination on earth.  We pile the van with games, snack food, bathing suits, bikes, sunscreen, craft supplies, pellet guns, beach towels, DVDs, the dog and Christmas presents in July.  See.  Like no other.  Nothing comes in the van that involves business, school, church ministries (OK, the Bibles come) or thinking.  Nothing.  Only pleasure reading books too.  I’m taking The Shack.  I’ll give a book report later on.

It is pure relaxation for seven whole days.  No alarm clock.  No agenda.  No bedtime.  No worries…. unless Trixie gets out again.  Or Leonard Nimoy’s dog digs a hole under the fence again.

So don’t worry about us this next week.  We’ll be just fine.  I’m planning a photo essay for y’all of our daily sites and sounds.  Ooooooh, tantilizing, I know.  Hit the snooze button a few times for me this week, ok?

P.S.  New bags:  www.bagsforzaza.blogspot.com