WHINE POWR BY LLEWIS

Dis be Llewis. Me with da rogue leg an funny back. Cause of dese things I cannt get up on the furnitshure less it got a stair and not everthing here do. DOes. (I m  trying to yuse my books so this eezeeer to read for youse peopels what dont like bassetese..)
We all got crates scept Cooper the Belgian sheepsdog. He like to sleep in mine durin da day and he drool all ober my speschul crate pad bought speschul so I dont haveta try an liff my rogue leg ober stuff: it flat.
At nite me and Conley an Nigel sleep in our crates an Cooper he get to rome loose. Sometime he sleep wid DadPerson sometime MomPerson an sometime needer.
At da house we usta hab--dont nose where it wented. One day it rained inside an we zip off to da--nebbermind. Story for anodder time.

Anyways at da odder place I sumtime get to sleep loose too. I cannot get up onna bed or nuffin nothin like dat so I leeb MomPerson alone an sleep onna couch (got stairs) or dog bed in da odder room. Dat fine. Dis place I go back inna crate.

Here I is in my crate an Cooper done took ober Nigel's. Youse can see how my leg don't bend an so affer awhile I gets uncomfurmable. (Dat NOT right...) Uncomformable. no. Uncomfortable. Dere we go.

So enyways I starts whinin. Yousually I starts about three inna mornin. An I not quit no madder whut an MomPerson she get reel mad. Finely she wise up an lass night she done leff me outta da crate. She let me sleep onna bed wif she. I no move around an let her shove me outta she way. Dis place she gotta bigger bed. It reel nicey. Conley an Nigel juss stare at me an not sayin nuffin.
I nose dey JELLLOOUUSSS BWAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAAHAHH.
oop.
Sorry. I not da ebil type. (snicker.) Hey! Dat a candy bar. I think I'm hungry. Wheres MomPerson? Mebbe I kin get a bisquit.

So keep whining my brudders. You win in da end.

Love an Drool, Llewis

THE QUIET MORNING

The neighbors have a beagle, Maddie. She is out and loose far more than she is in, and she barks, and my dogs bark at her, and they fence fight-for real- not just running the fence but trying to tear each other apart through it, which is possible. Anyway it is cool and I thought I would pick up the backyard which really really needed it.
First of all I needed to dump the old bag of poop into the garbage. Easy enough, except the garbage can is on the other side of the fence and the fence is too high for me to reach the bag over without either ripping it on the wire or tossing it over and risking having it break open when it hits the cement. So I went to unlock one of the gates but could not find the key or else it isn't working.
Meantime the boys and Maddie were screaming at each other through the fence. I got that settled down. Then the cloud of mosquitoes, horseflies and flies descended on me and I am serious about it literally being a cloud, mostly squitoes. I sprayed the bejesus out of myself even taking off my glasses and doing part of my forehead and under my chin, the back of my neck, my head, etc.
While I was doing this the dogs started fence fighting again. I got that stopped, went in and got the keys to the garage, carried the bag of dog shit through the garage to the garbage can.
Maddie started barking and the boys went off again so I got everyone shut up and began picking up. (Maddie's people are home, they just leave her out.)
I finally got started picking up poop in the yard and was attacked again, sprayed myself again, started over. I had spent about 3 minutes picking up in silence when the meter reader appeared in the yard behind us, setting off the dogs on THAT street, Maddie, and mine.This time I sent them in the house. So I knew the meter reader was around but he was on the next street. I continued picking up. I knew John had gotten up because I could smell coffee.
Five minutes into this, the dogs went ballistic along with Maddie and Angel across the street, Coco next door and the two labs kitty corner. Meter reader. He needed into the yard.
Ok the gates are locked shut and I cannot open them. I have him come through the garage. John is shutting windows. MReader has to walk past the big window in the back which is about a foot & a half from the floor, and there are 4 dogs screaming and foaming and leaning on the window as he passes it, to his horror--and the biggest one only has three legs, probably lost that leg going through a window to eat a meter reader....

 

I get him out of there but the dogs are going to keep it up until they have been out and know he is gone. As he goes in front he is intercepted by Maddie who goes apeshit and this causes all of my dogs to rush to the front window and onto the couch to make sure the MReader is not breaking in the front. By now the guy looks as if he might be about to cry.

I let the dogs out the back to prove to them the guy is gone and Coco is out on the other side of the house (She is a very sweet GSD) and of course, the barking starts again, the dogs are wired, stoked and ready to roar at anything. I bring them in and they rush the front window and begin barking because Maddie is standing in our yard. I yell at Maddie, who leaves, and throw my dogs into crates until they can get themselves under control.
(Yes, I went back out, threw out the dog poop, locked the garage door.)
It is now 8 in the morning. I am ready for the day to be over.

NOT MUCH

There is simply nothing going on. The heat and humidity continue to be
seriously oppressive. By mid-day the sparrows that use the bush in the front yard as a resting spot have moved to it's innards, and even so their beaks are gaping as they pant.
The dogs go out and walk around part of the yard, then want in. Half the time, Cooper won't go out unless he is desperate and/or I force him.
I have no new photos, nothing to photograph.
I am waiting for my Jimmy Buffett songbook to arrive so that I can tease myself by looking at songs I want to play on the piano and are so far above my level of ability that I might as well forget for a couple of years, or perhaps eons.
Conley is pretending to throw up on my bare foot. I moved.
(He went outside.)

I have all the swatches and samples for the house but they are so far from that point as far as I can tell that I might have saved myself the trouble.
Llewis just asked to be lifted onto the bed. This annoys Nigel who thinks it is HIS bed. Tough luck.

See? Not much.

THE DECISION MAKER

This morning I got a computer generated call from Northern Illinois Gas. The male person on the other end of the line said he had an offer fo change the way we pay the gas bill. Since we are currently paying the gas bill for two houses, I was of course interested. Not much, because my experience is that these things generally cause all kinds of upsets and you end up paying more. But a little. So I said, "Yes?" and he said well actually....uh...was John Szaton there because he needed to speak with, and this is a quote: "the DECISION MAKER"!

oh! Well. I see.

I have a bit of a problem with these things. I also sometimes forget that the trigger on my temper is filed down and it often needs only a touch. I said:

"Well, the DECISION MAKER has stepped out! Clearly the only person left here is the lowly and undecided subordinate spouse of the DECISION MAKER. She who is not allowed to make...DECISIONS!!... so perhaps you should call back another time when the DECISION MAKER is in the castle and you can speak to someone equal to you in social standing, OKAY? Bye."

The actual Decision Maker thought this was very funny, and began laughing as soon as I started to relate the story, because he knew perfectly well what the effect of the language was going to have on me.

Years ago I went to buy a car. A Chevvy. In cash. I had my checkbook and I had the money and it was to be MY car. The man who waited on me showed me the roomy trunk, the snazzy upholstery, the gadgets on the dashboard, the big glove box, the pretty hubcaps, the different colors it came in... and I said well how much will you give me for the car I have? And he PUT HIS ARM AROUND ME (now he would lose his testicles just for that, but I was younger) and said "Honey, you bring the Hubby in tonight and he and I can talk money."

I stopped. I pulled out my checkbook. I waved it in his face. I said (loudly-- there were other people in the showroom and I wanted them to hear) "Your sexual condescension just cost your company and you this sale. I was prepared to buy the car now, but I will never buy from this company and EVERY WOMAN I KNOW is going to hear about your rude and inappropriate behavior towards me as a customer." And I stomped out, with him chasing me,saying "wait wait" and I will NEVER EVER buy a Chevrolet.

Sometimes I get it right, instead of sputtering incoherently and sobbing with fury. Not often, but now and then.
Ah! I have to run. The DECISION MAKER needs the salt!!

        The DECISION MAKER and his chief advisor. (Take your pick.)

DIGGING YOUR WAY OUT OF TROUBLE

The first time the washing machine drained and the toilet overflowed and flooded the bathroom and warped the bathroom door here at the rental, we called the Landlord, or the person we had been led to believe was the personal representative of the landlord.
The next time, when we realised that the raw sewage was bubbling (I use the word under advisement) up in the front yard I called again and got the Landlord himself who was horrified.
The next morning a crew of twenty-somethings with lithe, lean bods and tattoos and baseball caps arrived with shovels and began digging up the sewer line.
Watching them dig was not so exciting but come on, I'm old and fat but I remember and I'm not dead so I got kind of a kick out of watching these kids, any one of whom was almost old enough to be my grandson.

So today they came back with a Bobcat. Not, alas, a real one, which would have been VERY exciting if they had tried to dig with it, but a backhoe.
And they began to dig.

I didn't get their names. This one seemed to be in charge altho to be honest they all worked just as hard as the next one and all of them seemed to know exactly what they were doing. This kid did this a thousand times, stuck his head out the front, and each time I expected the Bobcat to buck and snap his neck.

This one had the most interesting tats which I did not get a photo of. They kind of wrapped around his ribs on the other side and were very tribal. The sign on the truck they drove said "Gutters" and I made some crack that it was a long way from gutters to sewers. He said he had started in sewers and felt of the two it was by far the most secure career. He laughed. He was covered with sweat and dirt and clay and god only knows what else, standing in a hole at least 6 feet deep peppered with broken tree roots, cigarette in his mouth, laughing.

They are filling in the hole. They had us run all the water for like a half hour. Now the huge pile of dirt and cement pieces and roots are being shoveled back into the enormous hole. I have no idea what they get paid for this. A lot, I hope. I do not see anyway the dirt is going back in the hole. I know it will sink, but....

I do hope the Landlord is not expecting us to water it every day.....my real yard and garden are a complete disaster, having been left for an entire growing season to go completely wild with weeds, and it has.

They have just cut our lawn mowing down by  a good bit, I guess.

AND

of course, I can flush the toilets again!!!
As a pioneer or explorer I would not have been much of a success, I'm afraid. It's not the bugs and beasties that bother me, but the lack of a loo.

Not a glass of beer: the color of our drinking water at the moment..... some days I feel as if I need Cody Lundin just here in the house.

THE TROUBLE WITH CIVILIZATION

Here we are just finishing the space age and trotting around carrying our Tablets and iPods and Smart Phones and other space age gadgetry: phones that tell you where to park and cars that do it for you and food you heat up in a microwave right in the package and $3000 grills for your outdoor kitchen....

and here is what I know.
When it goes wrong, it really goes wrong.
Like when a simple tarp is not on a roof correctly and it rains and your house drowns and you have to live someplace else for 6 months.
Or when the snazzy thing on your car that keeps the fumes from poisoning the atmosphere blows a hole and you don't HAVE the $500 to fix it.
Or you have to stay in a rental house where the insurance company is paying almost $2000 a month for you (because, remember the roof?) and suddenly you notice that water is pouring out of the sewer pipe two feet from the front door and then you notice it ISNT JUST WATER, that it is RAW SEWAGE...... and you had called about this before and the landlord did, in fact have someone come out and rod the pipe twice....
And here you are in your $2000 a month rental home and you cannot flush the damn toilet because it is going to run out that pipe down the sidewalk.
And you are NOT HAPPY.
And you want to bathe in bleach.
And when you said please get someone here now, you meant an hour ago.
And you went out and poured pure, 100% chlorox bleach all over the lawn to hell with the grass anyway.
Not a good day. Where's the wine.

DOG DAYS OF JULY

As most of us know already this summer the weather has been passing strange. Not to mention horrible. It has been one of the muggiest summers I can remember and I remember a few.

The Basset 500 has been re-invented in the rental house. Inside. The track is on the bare laminate floor so as to get the greatest effect from the sounds of nails hitting the floor and the echo of the ahroos as they circle the dining room table. We are so impressed with the impermeability of the flooring to dog nails that we are going to install it in the real house, if and when we get that far.

Sunning has been adapted to climate change as well, now being no longer than 5 or 10 minutes on the incredibly hot cement before they want back into the air conditioning. This morning, for the first time in a week, the A/C is off. Probably not for long. The dewpoint is creeping up to match the temperature outside and the breeze I had at 5 a.m. has dissipated.

In between, the boys have found ways to express themselves.

                            The Coopster, asleep. (He really was.)

Wait. What was that flash?

YOU! Leave me alone!!

The nose is always at the front and always working whether it appears to be or not.

Less apt to miss something when it is rightside up.

Some of us, of course, assume we will awaken instantly, no matter what: