Monday, February 18, 2013


I'm cranky, crabby, cantankerous, crazed and slightly depressed.

Bad time of year, bad time of life,
trying to find a sunny day in my gloomy weather report.

I just read a withering report of a musical event someone wrote on her blog, it's so damn great I could stand up and cheer.  I'm not as articulate as she is and rarely love or hate anything with quite her intensity but it sure is fun when someone has a bad mood that matches my own.

What's with clothes on dogs?

Why would you bring your stupid little dog into a salon? Worse yet, into the facial/waxing/tweaking part of the salon?  Do Chihuahuas need waxing?

Do not bump me with your cart in the grocery store.  Can you not see that you've parked your cart right in the middle of the aisle?  Does being old make you special?  However, yes do ask me to get things off the high shelves for you, really.

Strollers, ack!  Yes, we know Mommy's precious is hard to carry but at least recognize that you cannot get said GIGANTIC freaking stroller into some places.

Back to dogs.  I'm making my dogs behave while you walk by with yours.  I am not waiting just so you can let your out of control pooch rush over to "say Hi!".  Ask me first please, mostly because my two are going to overwhelm your one and the leash tangles are nuts.

Best Buy, two days before Christmas and she hasn't a freaking clue which Kindle she wants to buy.  How about doing some research before you stroll in and monopolize a sales clerk for 45 minutes being INDECISIVE.  Kill me now.

Merge people, merge.  I know you probably didn't have a CHP father teaching you to drive.  He said, "Find a spot and get in it."  Which means you've got to be going close to 55 before you reach the end of the on ramp.

If you have the red light and want to turn right, stop first, look and then proceed when it's clear.  Do not roll through it and then look surprised when I don't or can't get out of your way.

Flicking your cigarette butt out your window.  Or throwing anything of of your car window.  This more than anything makes me want to shoot out your tires, then grab you by the neck and make you pick up the stupid trash and eat it.

My Dad also said that when you lose your temper you don't make anyone miserable except yourself.  I say that writing it all down makes me feel really good.  And then I feel sort of bad because none of it is really that bad, just sort of annoying.  Except for the trash part, that's bad, really, really bad.  And dangerous in fire country.

Good stuff:

Kisses from Dandy.

Really kind people, those that smile even when they are having a hard time.

A friend who texts R U OK?

Hugs from anyone, unless you're contagious, then back off, because it's only...

36 more days until I get to push that GIGANTIC stroller around.

Having my Dad and Mom stop in to say hi and check out the new deck.

Strapping on a gun belt and blowing holes in things.

A pile of pillows and a really warm comforter.

Smiles and tail wags from Bode.

Remembering this is my bug-a-boo time of year and being ok that my energy level is really low.

And a million other things,

Peaceful dreams.


  1. Good Seinfeld imitation "What's with clothes on dogs?" Hope that you are feeling better now.


  2. L. Have you figured that out? Clothes on dogs? I'm good, reminds me of a song, "I get by with a little help from my friends."