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Monthly Archives: September 2014

fear of dogs, or how i caught a pit bull

Posted on September 19, 2014

I know it’s not politically correct, but I don’t like pit bulls. I used to feel hideously guilty about this until I realized I also don’t like a bunch of other breeds, including some traditionally hardcore breeds like Rotts and Mastiffs, but also including some other dogs like Saint Bernards, Collies (yeah, Lassie), and Cocker Spaniels. My dogphobia springs from my years as a pizza delivery driver, where for whatever reason there were just certain breeds that seemed inclined to cause me major problems.

You might think my fear of Saint Bernards comes from Cujo, book or film, but no. My fear of Saint Bernards comes from literally having been trapped in my own car by a pair of them, who proceeded to chew my bumper and body side-molding. Better that then me, but still.

No tip, either.

I was treed on top of a company truck by a collie, and the dog that actually took a hunk out of my thigh was a collie mix.

And pit bulls?  Well I admit I just don’t like the triangular shape of their heads, which reminds me of snakes. But in my serivice area they were also they were the breed most likely to be tied to the porch rail in the dark, and to pop out snarling and nasty at the approach of the ridiculously attired person who smelled like food.

I also once screamed like a girl when a black lab charged at me.

Yesterday while discussing this, a friend said, “I don’t like dogs that bite, and that could be any of them.”

And there you have it, in a nutshell.  My personal experience has made me wary of these breeds, but I also know that (a) my own very friendly hound once bit a pizza driver (although I believe he was just trying to get pizza), and (b) not all dogs of any breed are going to behave like previous dogs of that same breed I have met.  So while I remain very wary of strange dogs, I try to remain open to them as individuals.

This is kind of how I am about people, actually.  Like, here’s an ex-con for example. I have no trust. But if I get to know him or her, I might learn to trust.

Anyway, as previously reported, I am having some serious issues with lightheadedness (CT scan and ultrasound later today) and yesterday I was crossing the school parking lot at the downtown campus like someone recently escaped from the nursing home. Not quite dizzy, but wobbly, and trying not to worry about what will happen if I start getting dizzy while I’m sitting down and thus can’t drive anymore. When I was about halfway across I heard a bunch of hollering, but it didn’t seem to concern me, so I didn’t concern myself with it, just continued wobbling along.

Finally I came to the sidewalk and stepped up onto it, near the corner of the building where I felt a little more secure, because if I needed to, I could lean on the building. Then I turned around to see what all the fuss was about.

Charging toward me was a liver and white pit bull. Behind it came three humans, one of whom was carrying a football-sized dog. The biggest one of the group was a guy and he started hollering frantically, “She’s friendly!  She’s friendly!  She don’t bite!”

Some weird calm came over me, and I thought toward the dog, “This is not a good place to be a pit bull on the lam.”

On she came. I didn’t look directly at her, but looked at the library across the street and kind of watched her out of the edges of my vision. There was just something so familiar about her expression. Something Kelly-like, although her little pointy spy-vs-spy face could hardly be more dissimilar to a blocky pb face in structure. It was not the structure, it was the expression.

And on she came.  Charged right up to me, getting it on with a full body wag, and exuberant leaping and sniffing.

“Sorry, Sister,” said I, “Your freedom has come to an end.”  And I stepped on her leash.

And then I stood there while she tested to see if she could get away, and then she maypoled me, tying my ankles together, and then she sat down good-naturedly and waited for her humans.

“She’s friendly!” the guy said again.

I agreed, but. “I’m not going to bend over her to get her leash,” I told him.  “She doesn’t know me.”

Dogs don’t really like being bent over, and…she didn’t know me.  Also, if I had bent over, I might have just kept on going, and not only would that have let the little dog escape again, but it would have been humiliating and possibly painful.

Her human retrieved her leash and thanked me profusely, and sounded–to my ears, anyhow–surprised that I was a friendly human.  Which gave me pause to consider, is that how the world is to pit bull owners?  Or is it only how they perceive the world to be? Probably a mix, if I had to guess.

So I went about my business and they went about theirs, and later I would think, “I’ve changed (at least a little).” Because years ago when that black lab charged me, my first thought was, “I’m getting mauled.” But yesterday my first thought was this macro:

Much later, I would realize what it was that reminded me also of Kelly in the expression.

It was Whee-ness.

And now when I call her Whee Kelly Doll, maybe you’ll have a little better idea how she came by that title.

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Posted in Critters and Varmints | Tags: dogs, macros |

thankful thursday

Posted on September 19, 2014

I am thankful for Android and Motorola, and have decided to post a list of everything I do on my phone now.

(1)  Manage time, via Google Calendars, Google Keep, and Google Now.  WIth my brain smoked like a ham, I need all the lists and reminders in the world.  I have my BlackBoard (school software)’s calendar linked to Google Calendar, so all my assignments are now there with my doctor’s appointments, class times, and houswork reminders.

(2)  ZOMG, Motorola’s Assist.  It (mostly) knows when I’m driving and lets me ask to have my texts read aloud so I’m not wondering for twenty minutes if it’s an emergency.  It monitors my calendars and automatically sets my phone to silent while I’m in class.  *bouncy bouncy*  Well, I have to set the calendar correctly, whether I’m busy (go into silent mode) or available (no silent mode), but other than that, it does all the work.

Practically speaking, this means I no longer set my phone for silent at the start of class and then forget to take it off silent for days at a time.  Assist does that FOR me.  It even has a setting for ending meetings ten minutes early, and since my classes end ten minutes short of an hour, that is perfect for me.  How often in life is something perfect?  Not often enough, I say.

(3)  Motorola Connect.  Lets me text from Chrome on my PC.

(4)  Track my health.  Blood pressure, blood glucose, weight, medication, all that.  I use an app called Glucose Buddy.

(5)  Entertainment.  I play Restaurant Story and Word With Friends, but only with a few people.

(6)  Handle all my store loyalty cards.  I use the app called Stocard.

(7)  Weather.  It’s so easy to check.

(8)  Entertainment.  Books and netflix wherever I go, and sometimes TV on the deck in the middle of the night.  It’s weird to have a TV the size of a compact car in the living room and be watching it the size of my palm in the yard, but I do enjoy it.  The little screen is clear enough I don’t have any trouble seeing what is going on on an old sit-com.

(9)  Navigation.  I’m a person who has a map in my head, but I’m also a person who hates driving on the freeway, so I use my phone’s navigation to help me stay off the interstate.

(10)  Texting myself things I want to do when I get to an actual computer…although this little phone could kick my first computer’s ass.

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Posted in Gadgets and Gizmos | Tags: thankful thursday |

seldom

Posted on September 14, 2014

Seldom is the lead character’s name in Gallows Dogs.

Yesterday I re-plotted using index cards.  Well, I tried to, but there is still so much I don’t know about this story, including whether I should be writing it at all.  Now I have to wonder if maybe I should be working on a sequel to godlight?

Why do my novels start with G?

Anyway, one of the many hings I don’t know is whether my next step should be an outline or a quickdraft.  Logic would seem to indicate the outline comes next, but I kind of think the quickdraft might turn up some issues that will need to be addressed in the outline.

Writing and plotting are not circular or linear, not for me.  It’s more of a rat’s nest scenario, really.

I don’t have to decide what to do next right this second though, since I have a lot of non-writing things to do today, like finish my reading for Web Scripting class (PHP, whoo…hoo), take an online quiz, clean the kitchen, steam my week’s worth of breakfast eggs, sort my pills, start the vast quantities of laundry that have piled up again.  Funny how that keeps happening.  Kind of like dishes.  People just keep eating and getting dressed, damn their eyes.

Best to get started.  When you boil it down (or steam it), getting started is always the next step.

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Posted in Writing | Tags: gallows dogs, seldom |

oatmeal and lightbulbs

Posted on September 8, 2014

I so want to be done trying to do the right thing.  It’s too exhausting.

When we moved in here over five years ago, I did the right thing and bought those (at the time three bucks each ZOMG) swirly cfl lightbulbs.  I think one or two have burned out since then, including the one socket in The Keep where they burn out almost instantly. (Add that to my next Lowe’s splurge.  That’ll make the kitchen fixture, two closet lights, and The Keep.  The old man is gonna love me.)

Last night the hall light burned out, and it was a doozy, kind of like a forgotten scene from the Green Mile or something, except the bulb didn’t actually explode.  It’s death took a long time, though.  The light got brighter, then dimmer, then it flickered on and off, then it got really dim and hummed for a while, and then it finally popped and went out, leaving a stink of smoke that made Mr Moth say, “Bring me a fire extinguisher.”

Which I did, because putting out fires is something that, while not in his job description, he has been called upon to do repeatedly at his job.  In fact–well never mind.  That can and should be a post of its own.

Anyway, I brought the fire extinguisher, but by the time I got there the smell was gone. And, yadda yadda, I positioned myself where I could watch that fixture, you betcha, and I figured I wasn’t going to get any sleep, and actually planned to go outside and make sure there weren’t flames shooting through the roof or anything, when I remembered a long time ago when Zor was little, she was jumping on the bed–illegally, of course.  I was writing, and she sneaked off.  Then, predictably, a leap went wild and she came down on my little table, which smashed, along with the lamp thereupon, which shorted out, flipped a breaker, and plunged our apartment into darkness.

In the darkness, I smelled smoke.

I am one of those people who generally freaks out after the crisis, so I dropped my clipboard, which is how I wrote in those days, and charged, blind and barefoot over broken ceramic, to collect my shrieking child, and whisk her outside.

But then what?  Should I rouse all the neighbors and tell them to get out because the house might be on fire? Keeping in mind I didn’t even actually know what had happened yet, since I had been minding my story when CRASH, BLACKNESS, SHRIEKING, SMOKE happened, in that order.

So I stashed my toddler in her car seat and grabbed the flashlight out of the truck and went back in.  I was able to figure out what happened, establish that nothing was on fire, get the kid back in, and mop up the bloody footprints…  But the point of this sidebar is, the smoke was not coming from the broken lamp, but from the living room ceiling fixture, where all three bulbs had fried.  I really wanted that fixture replaced, but the landlord refused, and while there were never any problems afterwards, it was a long time before I slept easy again.

So last night I remembered all this, and decided to look and see if anyone else had reported bizarre cfl lighbulb deaths, and so using my trusty phone, I googled it and, yeah. Not only do they fizzle, but they stink, too.  In fact, they say it’s normal.

Buy cfl bulbs, they said.  It’ll be good for the planet, they said.

Well to hell with that.  No more of those suckers for me; my blood pressure can’t take it. Also they’re a huge pain in the butt to get rid of. Also, apparently they’re obsolete already.

So I’m going to get a few more incandescents to tide us over until the price on the NEXT BIG THING settles down a little. (Apparently LEDs. Or something.)

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Posted in Diary |

what the ckatten did, also starring Whee Kelly Doll and Hurricane Cobie McFluffybutt

Posted on September 7, 2014

My morning routine goes pretty much like this: Wake up. Go, OUCH. Whimper. Flex shoulder until the pain subsides enough to sit up. Run, with my thighs pressed together to the bathroom, praying as I step over each dog. (It’s a small bedroom.) Pee for an hour, flexing shoulder some more. Eventually finish peeing. Let Artemis the ckatten out of Zor’s room. Let animals outside. Empty dishwasher. Make (instant) coffee. Give Oliver two drops of milk. Let animals inside. Make sure a kitchen chair is out so Oliver, who is about 13 and no longer a graceful leaper, can get to his milk bowl, which is on the kitchen table so dogs don’t harrass him (or steal his milk). Fill dishwasher with dishes that have accumulated while I slept. Take first round of pills. Insert sublinguals between upper lip and gums. Go to The Keep (office). Feed Tyrion Hammister and make sure his water bottle hasn’t either (a) leaked, or (b) stopped dispensing, or (c) stopped dispensing because all the contents have leaked out. Sit down. Give Artemis the Ckatten special Keep food in her special Keep bowl. Give Cobie and Kelly special Keep treats so Cobie’s jealous ass doesn’t eat the Ckatten. When the throng dissipates, drink cold coffee that tastes like half-dissolved sublingual vitamins.

Ah, but I LOVE cold coffee. I love everything cold these days, and I have no idea why. Since it doesn’t affect anyone but me, who cares? Cold instant generic coffee. I’m having some now. SLURP.

Anyway, today when I arrived at The Keep, Tyrion was awake, so I decided to bite the bullet (and possibly get myself bitten in the process) and clean the little varmint’s cage. Which I accomplished with surprisingly little Hammister screeching–he still hates being picked up, but he doesn’t usually mind being stroked–and no biting.

Mom often speaks of my special needs menagerie. She wonders aloud how I manage to reliably select such neurotic pets. I wonder silently if I make them that way. But I digress.

So today the morning routine was interrupted by the opportunity to clean the ham-cage. I had to usher out Artemis the Ckatten, Cobie, and Kelly, in case of an escape during the transfer process. I still wear a glove for that, because when Tyrion bites, he bites hard, and I figure the less he hurts me the less likely I am to accidentally drop him. He didn’t bite this time, but I didn’t know that was going to happen, right?

So the Big Three were disgruntled by the time I let them in for Keep treats, but yummy noms soon had them back to their usual selves. I gave the Ckatten her usual, I dunno, a quarter handful? A big pinch? Served on the Mac desk in one of the tiny stainless petfood dishes I bought for an art project, the same dishes I use for Oliver’s two drops of milk. And gave Cobie and Kelly kibble one at a time until the Ckatten was done.

But ah, another deviation from the routine–the Ckatten suddenly decided she wanted dog kibble. Except she doesn’t like this kind. And Cobie really really doesn’t want her to have his treats. But I gave her one anyway, just to prove to her she doesn’t like it, because otherwise she’ll be ripping my calendar off the wall, and my homework out of the printer, and the other fun things she does to vent her spleen when she is hissed off at me.

And she tapped it with her paw and knocked it on the floor, where Kelly snarfed it up before you could say “snarf.”

So to keep it even, I gave Cobie one.

Then the Ckatten reached out and ever so gently patted me. So I gave her another one. She knocked it on the floor. Kelly snarfed. I gave Cobie one. Ckatten patted me. I gave her another one…

So apparently the Ckatten didn’t want a dog kibble. She wanted to hand out dog kibble. Maybe she grasps that she who controls the kibble gets to lead the pack.

Maybe I should be worried.

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Posted in Critters and Varmints, Diary | Tags: cobie and kelly, critters, dogs, hamsters |

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