I'm an intense, hyperactive woman with an imagination in overdrive who loves her Husby, her two Wonder Wieners, and her emerging career as an author and photographer.

Sunday, January 7

Certifiably Wierd

You may be tired of seeing pictures of leaves and flowers from me, but I just don't feel like a post is complete anymore without a pic. Yesterday was a totally wierd day. I woke up about 2:30 in the morning with a dry, tickly sensation in my throat, you know the one, that forebodes the coming of a cold. Woke up again at 3:45 am to take my hubby to the airport for a biz trip to Orlando, FLA (the bastard). Woke up again at 9ish, feeling icky. I hate the feeling of illness coming on as much as the illness itself--the fuzzy brain; the glassy, burning eyes; the thick sensation in the throat, a portend of a bazillion cold viruses multiplying themselves in your vulnerable system. Hate it. Almost as much as I hated spending my entire day, and part of the day before, filling out the second round of IRS Audit paperwork. Fuckin' sucks. Took the dogs to the park for a break in the afternoon, despite the rain and my drain. I'm always on the lookout for other dogs and kids, mainly so I can decide whether or not my kids can run without their leashes. Not this day, as there was a woman with a toddler and two pit bulls, although the pit bulls looked under excellent command, sitting everytime she stopped, healing well by her side. Anyway, so I stay as far away from her and dogs as I can and still be in the park. Soon, however, she starts screaming and whistling at the top of her voice. "Hey! Hey! Hey! That's mine!" she screams. Her dogs go ape shit at her panic. One of them slips his collar and runs full speed for me and my dogs. My dogs go ape shit. I panic...there's no way I can stop this beast of pure muscle from eating me and my pups whole. But, just as the dog is 3 feet away from us, it hears her calling it back, turns, and leaves us standing there breathless. Meanwhile, the woman has gone back to screaming: "Don't take that! It's mine!" She's trying to gather her dogs and her toddler and move across the park. I look caddy corner, all the way across where she's headed, a football field's length away, and I see a person walking with a stroller to a van, nearly ready to put it in the van. I can see that the woman with the toddler and the dogs is never going to make it. So, I run dead out with my dogs to the abductor with the stroller, and say: "Hey, I think that stroller belongs to the gal over there..." The woman taking it looks contrite. She is a young black woman, heavily pregnant. She says, "I'm sorry. I thought it was abandoned here. It's wet. I thought someone had left it." Meanwhile, she's dumped a Barney backpack out of the stroller where it sits forlornly on the wet grass. "Please tell her I'm sorry," says the girl as she backs away quickly and gets in the van. The van peals away. The woman with the dogs comes and gets her stroller and her wet Barney, thanking me profusely. Her dogs are calm. She apologizes to me about her dog coming after us. "She must of thought I was yelling at you," she justifies. I say it's okay. We go our separate ways.

Later that night, a drug bust went down, literally on my front lawn. I'll have to tell that story later. I'm tired of typing at the moment.


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