Living separate lives……for the moment

•August 20, 2013 • Leave a Comment

Like the rest of the country, we are coping.  Right now hubby is in Montana with his brother and nephews. 

Day 4/5 Okay it figures. While I was in the kitchen fixing me some pancakes, yes I know it is almost noon, I had my little blogger mind going to town with all kinds of cute anecdotes of my, so far days alone with “the children.” I will see if I can recapture those lost thoughts and share them with you. My job with my little beauties normally consists of playing, walking, and pretty much any physical activity. Although Stan does a lot of the potty calls since he still smokes. (sigh) I have left all feeding activities in his capable hands since moving to VA because I got tired of our vets telling us Sammie needed to loose weight. Since I gave up this duty, he has gained yet another 4 lbs. Now we can’t completely blame the feeder as Sammie has been healing from two separate leg injuries for the past 2 years. So not much exercise there. Although he has gotten so used to my husband saying “let me wrap your paw” that as soon as I approached him Saturday to see if he wanted to go out, he threw himself down on his left side, and stuck out his right paw for me to wrap. Other than being an incredible picky eater, he is a great dog. Now I have to admit, since taking over this “family” chore. Yes it is a chore. I know for sure the two little ones will probably gain some weight. Why you ask? Now because I want to spoil them to death. But mainly, if either of them lose weight I will get my arse royally chewed out by the household master. Which ain’t me. Although at times I would definitely say this is Wahine’s job, as she needs to make sure where each and every one of us are, at any given moment. So back to feeding my dogs. Oh did I fail to mention our children are dogs? you would wonder considering the ritual given over to just feeding them. PIsspot (rip) our first puppy together we got while in St. Croix. She was an unexpected present from a friend that stopped by one Easter to show us a new puppy they had just gotten. She was so tiny, and such a little fire cracker. I oooohed and awwwwed over her so much Eva offered her to me. We soon moved to Florida and after arriving, I flew to West Virginia to stay with mom after a surgery. Now prior to me leaving I had a dog we had finally house trained with a crate, who still had dog food. A week later I come home to a dog sitting at the table having lunch meat with my husband at dinner time. As time passed she got farther and farther away from dog food, but stayed relatively healthy on chicken and treats as a diet. That is until my body went haywire and she stopped getting two walks a day. She slowly started putting on some weight. Then we got Sammie. He ate anything and everything and by the time he was 6 months old, he had to have surgery for eating some styrofoam out of the trash. Rooting through the trash was one of his favorite pastimes which got easier and easier as he got longer and taller. He is a standard Dachschund and therefore his normal weight should be around 20 lbs. He is now a whopping 26. Why or how you say? We kept him at a little over weight of 22 for many years which inched up to 23-24 with his first leg injury. Now I am not sure how he gained so much weight although me feeding him ice cream every night probably doesn’t help. But this dog if you don’t give it to him when he wants it, will climb on your chest and bat you in the face with his paws until you do. But you would think we could control his portions right? Wrong. I used to be able to just say “it’s din din time, do you want some ham?” and he would do this dance and talk like there was no tomorrow. But something happened one day. We still don’t know what 8 years later. But Sammie stopped eating. Wouldn’t touch food of any kind. This went on for 3 days and on the third day with Stan on the verge of tears trying to get Sammie to eat (oh and did I say that my moms occupational therapist got my dogs addicted to doggie herion while mom lived with us? ) That putrid smelling, expensive doggy heroin, called chicken jerky, became the thing that got Sammie to eat again. Stan started tempting him with it and begging him to eat and little by little Sammie took the morels of food from Stan’s hand. Ham, chicken, or any other meat (oh my gosh even steaks at one time) is how Stan got Sammie to eat again and thus began the Stan/Sammie ritual of dindin time. I hate this time. My dog now has gotten into the habit of being hand fed, every day of his life. When ever Stan would leave this would be a very big discussion prior to him getting on the plane. I would promise not to starve the dogs, but let me tell you, I refused to hand feed my dogs. It would become a battle of wills. I would fix Sammie a plate of food and he would ignore it. I would pick it up, an hour later reheat it and put it down. Sammie would ignore it. This would go on until I had cooked no less than 3 different meat types trying to get him to eat, and at last he would give in and feed himself what I sat down on the floor. Yay I got my way somewhat. They still did not have a regular diet of me putting down a bowl of dog food and them eating it. Although they would snack on it on occasion.
Okay I know your wondering where this story is going. I’m so lost in my own lost thoughts I couldn’t tell you, but you have to be smiling by now, right? Any how, I who constantly complain that my husband is over feeding my darlings their treats, now finds herself over feeding them their their treats. Why? Well din din time has gotten to be a family affair. Bet you never thought someone could write so much about feeding their animals! Anyway, my dogs have an eternal clock and will start bugging you around 2pm, or at least looking at you with their cute little eyes wondering where their food is. If you ask them if it is din din time they will both assume the position for eating. This entails me sitting on my side of the bed, Sammie as close to my hip as he can get or on Wahines dog bed next to my pillow. And with Wahine next to my leg. All waiting for Stan to appear with two plates, each one with just one slice of lunch meat, and one of the plates with a small smear of margarine on it. Oh and not any margarine, it has to be one brand or Sammie wil have nothing to do with it and he and Stan will get into a pissing contest as to whether Sammie is going to eat that one little piece of lunch meat. Come on guys, these are dogs! But I have since, long ago, given into this ritual without much thought. It’s easier that way. I won’t go into details of the exact feeding or it will take another 5 paragraphs just to explain it. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. But now Stan is gone for 6 – 8 weeks and now I have this mess to contend with. First off Wahine is really confused. As she is now 3 almost 4 years old and has known nothing but the feeding ritual my husband does with his “Sammie boy”, young man, big man, boy boytono, and maybe a few other names. But now mom is in the wrong spot and she has no idea where to sit on the bed, which then confuses Sammie and they both start milling around the bed trying to make since of me trying to do this food ritual my obsessive compulsive husband began so long ago with a sick dog. So. day two feeding goes okay. day three was a mess with them milling around the bed, neither one eats more than two bites of this “lunch meat” diet. But of course they both will devour mounds of duck and chicken jerky, which I gladly feed them just to make sure their eating. So day 4 I get a bit more creative and shred some left over smoked ham and heat it up. Sammie scarfs it down, off my hand of course, but Wahine refused to eat it. OMG now she won’t eat. So I go fix her the 3 half pieces of what passes for chicken lunchmeat (barely) and she wolfs it down. (off my hand of course) Yay! I’m so happy they both ate, I gave theme their portion of after dinner treats and we’re all done, right? Well we were for the moment, but as soon as I try cutting up some more dried chicken to mix with some ground up dog food (yes I have managed to get my husband to include some dog food in their diet over the years, but lets not go into details right now) and I notice both of them looking at me with full attention. Which means ears are perked halfway up in the air and I am being stared at. Intently. Okay not way out of this moment until they are both satiated with about 5 pieces of duck jerky (very spendy commodity btw, but nothing is too good for Stan’s babies) oh yes, and about 2 pieces of dried chicken jerky. USA made of course. No chinese poison here. Now I am sure some of you are asking, doesn’t she have 3 dogs now? Where is Maggie during all of this. Well there is a God don’t you know, and she stil eats dog food. However, yes there is a however, while I was in Idaho visiting my new granddaughter, Stan does it again. I made him promise she would still be eating dog food by the time I got home because our budget just could not stand another dog on a gourmet diet. And she was. But, now she has to have her dog food with water on it, heated in the microwave, so it has “gravy.” And when did she tell him this? When I left I could put 3 cups of dog food in a big dish and she would merrily munch on it through out the day. It’s called demand feeding. Never had an overweight dog until I owned one with Stan. Now I come home, she has gained two pounds in two weeks, and has two be fed 2x day with her dog food heated. And that is how my days without Stan are spent. Trying to figure out how the hell to feed my dogs! 



•June 20, 2012 • Leave a Comment

Animosity, control, conservatorship, guardian, money, lawyer, judge, probate, hate, love, right, wrong, sick, twisted, go away, stop, peace, quiet stop, please, stop, please stop.  I can’t even talk to my own family because the only thing I can find to talk about is the chaos. This pain. The sickness of control.  Power.  My life was merrily going along until I did a kind thing and agreed to move from my home, give up what I owned, and care for my in laws.  That was a disaster because I didn’t know at the time that no matter what I wasn’t family, could never be family, would never be accepted.  Chaos.  Peace came, ever so fleeting peace came.  We bought a new home.  I found beauty, peace joy. I rediscovered my family, my grand-daughter.  I began to mend my body again.  I had yet another surgery.  So many so many.7 in years.  This one was good, no great.  I reclaimed part of my life again.  I could move without hesitating, without help.  by myself.  I was productive again.  I was free.  I did a good thing again.  My mother in law was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer.  I made the mistake of joining my husband in chaos.  Why?  because that is what I was taught..  Compassion not control, love and trust, not paranoia and mistrust.  I was called a bitch because I would not agree to give her coffee enemas and colloidal nebulizer treatments.  To a woman with a useless liver.  Because I said no to killing her I was accused of just that.  I was called a murderer.  My husband and I did not even get to mourn before the hyenas circled and fed and they continue to feed.  They steal, they harass, they justify.  And because again, I do what is right, what is kind I must live in their world of chaos.  Of hatred, of self righteousness.  of it.  just it.  I hate IT.  I loathe it.  IT makes my stomach heave, makes me want to hurl. Makes me want to cry.  I try to provide an aging man with a warm bed, food, a safe haven.  I am called an abuser.  30 year old letters written to my husband by his mother are presented to a judge and lied about as if she wrote them a month before she died.  I will tell you what abuse is.  Stealing from your father, telling lies to the courts, falsifying documents, manipulating people, causing pain and suffering for the sake of a few dollars.  Causing the structure of a family to tumble and fall to make yourself, or try to any way, look bigger then life.  I have been waiting to cleanse, this is it.  I needed to say this.  There is more.  and it may come.  Like  the next time you get mad and angry at someone, don’t be spiteful and vindictive.  do not judge what you do not understand..  Instead of judging, ask, talk and most of all listen.  I literally want to change my name because I can no longer stand being associated with it  I want it ripped from me and I want to stuff it away and never see it or hear it.  I want peace again.  God I give you this burden, i can not carry it  It is too large and heavy for my shoulders and the knots and pain I feel in my back prove this to be so.  In the name of Jesus I ask you to open my suitcase once again and free me from this weight.  Fill me with your love, cover me with your blood, and hold me within your arms and tell me everything is going to be all right.  Amen. and Amen

Uber Domestic: How to Make a One-Size-Fits-All AIO Diaper!

•January 15, 2011 • Leave a Comment

Uber Domestic: How to Make a One-Size-Fits-All AIO Diaper!.

where did my blog go?

•November 15, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Microsoft you screwed up again. Where did my website go? I don’t want to learn something new. I liked my old blog. I had it just the way I wanted it and you screwed up and took it away and gave me this! What is this?

Hello world!

•November 2, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Welcome to This is your first post. Edit or delete it and start blogging!


•October 3, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Well I have perfected the perfect meat pie.  It makes you close your eyes and experience the flavor it is so good when it melts in your mouth.  Are you ready to try it?

1. grind 1 lb of ground beef and 2 lean center cut pork chops, or the equivalent of a pork loin, or use pre packaged ground pork.  I think I may also try italian sausage in it sometime.l 

2.  Saute’ in pan of butter some cut up carrots, onion, and shredded potatoes.  about 1 1/2  cups of carrots and 1/4 – 1/2 onion, 1 cup of potatoes.  Add salt and pepper as needed.

3. cook two packages of brown gravy mix and add to your meat after you brown the meat.  Sit aside

4  You need 2 pie shells, one for the bottom one for the top.  I use box mix and roll it out.  But I have also used thawed ones from the freezer.

5.  put your crust in the bottom of a pie pan, a brownie pan, or casserole.  It doesn’t not have to come up the sides unless you just want it to look pretty for someone.

brush with slightly beaten egg white.

6  mix together your meat and your vegatable mixture and poor into pie shell.  Top with other pie shell or dough.  Cut vent holes in top and also brush with egg whites.  Cook at 425 degrees for 35 minutes if you use box dough mix.  Otherwise use instructions for pie shells you buy.


Oh my gosh enjoy!

I will also be posting some other recipes I have tried lately and gotten good results.

ants in my pants

•September 21, 2010 • Leave a Comment

Well today was another day of moving.  Oh yea! my favorite thing to do. NOT.   But we’ve only been in Hawaii for two years and I finally have a house full of furniture.  It is just stacked all over in different rooms at the moment.  It can wait.  But at least I finally feel like I am setting up a home instead of just somewhere to sleep.  I don’t feel so temporary anymore.  Ok enough of the boring stuff.  I don’t get very good cell phone reception where we live.  Line of sight and all playing in there you know.  Mountains and trees expressing their dominance over my domain.  I placed my phone in its usual place in the only window in the house I get one bar after returning home.    After about 3 hours I started getting text messages.  A lot of them.  And dangit wouldn’t you know they all said Error: unable to download bla bla bla blah.  I skip through about 10 of those from my son Josh to get to one from him that says:  Don’t blab…….  I mean on facebook.   ?????? blab blab what?  Only thing I could think of, is what was already on facebook.  Marie and her friend got pulled over on the way to Ocean city and I teased her about it.  So I replied huh?  to my son.  Well I knew I would have to wait until the next day for an answer because of the time difference.  I tried to download the texts again and still got errors.  But then I got to thinking there may actually be one before the blab one.  And guess what there was!!!  And the picture actually downloaded in that one.   As I squinted my bleary, astigmatic eyes at a one inch picture on my phone, my brain tries to fill in the blanks for what my eyes are actually seeing.  Now remember my brain still has ticket on the brain, police, trip to ocean, and the margaritas Marie had posted pictures of on facebook.  My mind thinks it sees a leg in knee length jean shorts with very bad rasberries all over the bottom of the leg.  I knew this couldn’t be right.  I kept squinting and turning my phone this way or that and finally walked over to my magnifying glass at my desk.  As my out of focus eyes focus on this little picture, my heart stops, and a thousand ants start running around in me, on me, around me.  I start yelling ooooo oooo oooo oooo, scared the dogs, Stan comes running, his eyes big, “what” “what”?  As I dance around the top of the stairs, my eyes as big as plates, my heart skipping every beat, with a smile from ear to ear.  I announce I’m going to be a Grandma!  I was looking at a positive EPT stick in the tiny little picture with such BIG news!  Oh happy days!!