A Splinter of a different kind...

I have always been on the fence in my life fighting a battle between happiness and unhappiness, positive and negative, joy and sorrow.

Cursed with equal parts of my mother's optimism and my father's pessimism, life has been a bit of a challenge for me in my efforts to remain more closely linked to the rose coloured glasses version of the world.  And it gets tiring I have to tell you.

Why is it that being negative seems so much easier than being positive?  Why can't you be optimistic every day with little to no effort?

I have found throughout the years that my father's pessimism wins far too frequently in my every day life. Of course, things like the world news, my local news, facebook links of abuse to animals, abuse to people, abuse to children seem to run rampant and fuel this part of my soul. 

I often wished I lived on an island surrounded only by the ones that I love, beautiful music and art, animals that wouldn't eat me, nature in general and all the colours of the rainbow.  Of course, somewhere in my perfect version of life, I would be the proverbial Dorothy living with the munchkins in munchkin land sucking on lollipops until my teeth fell out, without the wicked witch who would still be stuck flying around in Kansas giving some other poor soul a run for their money. In other words, I would be happiest with my head crammed up my ass.

But really, how dreadful is my life (*que violin music please)...  Well let's see, even though I work in a dead-end, uncreative job, I do make a fairly decent wage, have benefits and receive four weeks paid holidays every year.  And though this dead end job is not what I dreamed I would be doing, financially it allows me to have a pretty decent personal life. And even though my better half and my relationship was not the passionate love affairs that movies are made from (damn those stinking movies), it was a love affair that grew over time and now has established into an amazing relationship filled with kindness, thoughtfulness and consideration. And even though I live in a fairly unattractive city, it seems to sit in the middle of a beautiful landscape of rolling hills, mountains, trees as far as the eyes can see, with lakes and the pounding lyrical song of the ocean's crashing waves.

So what's my problem?

And why do I spend a ridiculous amount of time trying to find that elusive happiness?  

And why do I have moments throughout my life where I feel unfilled?

I think that somewhere in my brain, I have short circuited and told myself that life is always about being happy, with no turbulence, no strife, no effort. And, if I was truthful with myself, I would have to admit that it is a mindset that needs to be corrected. The question is how...

The question has always been how.

And whilst I sit on this proverbial fence trying to figure out what will make my heart tick in happiness, I can tell you that sitting here for too long not only leaves a fence railing imprint on your big old butt, but also overtime, your ass gets full of splinters. Yup, painful annoying splinters that keep reminding me that at some point, I must step down from that fence and get on with life because if I don't, that splinter will become permanent. And as the years go by, I fear it will fester into a splinter of a different kind. And I can tell you, that is one splinter I could do without.

Until Next Time.

Tracy

Lost in a cluttered soul...

As I was lounging like the lump of lard I can be on New Years day with my eyes bulging out of their sockets from the hours of mindless television I was punishing myself with, I over-exerted my toneless arm and reached for my plush new copy of a girly magazine. I told my less than desirable body that I was just pampering myself with a lazy day and taking advantage of the fact that the man and the pooch had left me alone for several hours to wallow in chocolate leftovers and slovenly behaviour.  What's worse, is that I sadly told myself I deserved it.  And as I flipped from page to page in what could be described as sheer boredom, I halted at an article that caught my eye when it started off by stating that a new year, so they say, was the time to start fresh with a clean slate and a new perspective.

I sat there for what felt like an eternity staring at that line and trying to comprehend what that meant for me.  What was I bringing into the new year? I still had the intense chronic pain from last year, I still preferred to enhance the chubby bum print on my couch, my hair was still fuzzy and unmanageable, I had a few more new nose hairs and chin hairs that I was more than happy to leave behind in 2011 and I was sporting a rather large pimple on my chin that I swear was not only talking back at me but was giving me attitude to boot.

My drawers were still full of panties with saggy asses or gawd forbid holes in them.  My socks and pants were faded due to the multiple times they had been washed, and my bras were no longer holding the girls in place.  In fact my poor bras, once brave and strong, that had forced my girls into permanent saluting submission, had now weakened so much that my girls were now happily hanging their heads cross-eyed whilst they surveyed the distance between themselves and my knee caps.

I stood up determined to find the positive in what was increasingly becoming a negative situation.  I opened this door and that door, this drawer and that drawer, and all that stared back at me were piles, piles of old clothes, receipts, shoes, mismatched dishes, old spices, canned food from gawd knows when, stale crackers and expired salad dressings.  My heart started to beat wildly in my chest as I saw half made crafts, and half written journals, half assed photographs in half assed matting, pickles jars with only brine, ketchup bottles with no ketchup, what was I doing to myself?

Was I unable to let go of my past years, was I holding onto something I feared I would loose, something so intangible that I had to hang onto the tangible?  Was I lost, lost deep within my cluttered soul?

My breath became shallower, my chest tighter, sweat was pouring from my temples, my hands were clammy and I swear I was ready to pass out by the enormity of the situation!

It was then, as I spent the next two hours trying to calm myself down and figure out what was haunting me, that I realized that while my soul was cluttered, it was actually cluttered with good things, with soon to be done art projects, and almost completed written posts, articles that were almost perfect and ready to be submitted to the newspaper, photographs that only needed to be developed, and projects that I could not wait to start.  Oh yes, my soul was actually happily cluttered.

Sadly, what I really was, was just a lazy slob.

Until Next Time.

Tracy

SO EXCITING.....!!!!

Yesterday, I got up all stuffy in my nose and an achy stomach (most likely from all the cabbage I put in my homemade chicken chowmein the night before) and thought to myself "Oh great!!! Here's how I am entering into a new year with a runny nose and a runny butt!  Yikes!"

And then I opened my email and......

I was nominated in three categories for Best Written, Humour and Life for the 2011 Canadian Weblog Awards!

And I was doing a happy dance all over the place, well specifically I did a happy dance straight to the bathroom, apparently cabbage could not hold back it's excitement either!

In any event, there are a gazillion amazing blogs that have been nominated, so quite frankly I am betting the buck stops here especially with the fantastic competition out there.  But in the meantime, I have to say that I do not know who or whom nominated me and I wanted you to know how utterly humbled I am that you would take the time to actually think of me!  Thank you very much.  How you touched my heart.

And thank you for making me smile whilst I spent the entire day yesterday leaking from all my orifices!

Your kindness has overwhelmed me!!! 

Until Next Time.

Tracy

Letting go....

2011 left me like the softness of a lover's caress and 2012 entered just as sweetly and gently, making me wonder what this year will hold.

My Christmas was a typical happy disaster created by the likes of me and my channelling of Lucille Ball.  From almost food poisoning my family with raw poultry, to loosing my turkey skewers and having to truss up the turkey with galvanized nails, to my family finding out about the galvanized nails, to sending them into the garage to eat their dinner where I transformed it into a sorry-ful makeshift dining room, to unthawing my Christmas dessert and having it collapse into mush and offering my family the alternative of whip cream shots from the can, to finally capping it off with laughter so hard that I nearly peed my pants, not once but twice, all over the fact that I was definitely the hostess without the mostess!

I spent the rest of this week either utterly exhausted laying on the couch moping to myself or had crazy like moments of being a furious tasmanian devil whilst I ripped down all the decorations before entering into the New Year. I blame the latter on the fact that I consumed copious amounts of chocolate dipped goodies.  

In all seriousness tho, I have always had this weird sense of wanting to leave the past behind when the New Year begins and open into the future for all that is new, fresh and mistake free.  Of course, eating a bag of chocolate covered almonds and six slices of bacon was not the best way to start the new year, although my stomach begs to differ!

However, for me, I have realized that it is time to let go of those things that are holding me back.

It's time for me to say goodbye to my insecurities, my sadness, my lack of confidence and my failures.

It's time to properly say goodbye to those relationships that are no longer in my life, but to which I hold onto in my heart, though strongly I know that they are gone.

It's time to let go of the past so that I can be open to the here and now.

It's time to close doors and open windows and feel the fresh air upon my face.

It's definitely time to smile and banish my self imposed frown.

It's time to sparkle in my eyes rather than squint (although I have a sneaky suspicious that sunglasses might help this infliction!) 

But mostly, it's time to let go of my fears.

This year, will be the year about growing...  And as I say that, I wish to clarify with the fates above, that I would like to grow metaphorically as a human and not my ever expanding waist line! However, I am open to growing in my height.  Just putting that out there in case you can do something about that! 

This year will be the year to believe in myself and realize that I am worth more than I have ever thought.

This year will be the year to reclaim my creativity and enthusiasm.

This year will be the year I fight thru and conquer those chains that hold me back.

And this year, really this entire year, will finally be the year I let go....

And I will... How do I know that, you say?  Well, I have already started...

Until Next Time.

Tracy

Gone in a blink...

The morning alarm went off as usual and I found myself sitting on the edge of my bed scratching my head and catching my fingers in that matted mass I call my hair. Another day of work, I thought.  Time to get going and stop putting off the inevitable. And with an old heave ho, I launched my rather large bottom off my rather high bed and landed on the floor with a thunderous thump as I started what would be the last eleven days of 2011.  

Stumbling into the wall, tripping over my slippers, I lethargically dragged myself to the glaring light coming from my bathroom. I stood staring in the bathroom vanity mirror for several moments surveying the rather large pimple that was flashing it's white neon head at me from the inside of one of my flaring nostrils.  With tweezers in hand I tried to get at the little bugger, but eventually gave up when I realized it was on an angle in my nose that I and the tweezers could not quite comprehend.

With a resounding sigh, I jumped into the shower and turned on the soft warm heat of the soothing water and closed my eyes and thought.... "where did this year go?"

Moments of this year flashed furiously by like a movie in fast motion. And there, in a blink, it seemed to me that the year had disappeared as quickly as it came.  Things had changed drastically in my life in twelve short months.  I have watched my mother's little pooch go from being spry to being geriatric, I have seen my older niece turn into a vivacious confident woman, my younger niece turn into an Audrey Hepburn beauty with the lady-like manners to match, my grandmother revert back to child-like senses and my sister-in-law struggle over the possibility of not living till the end of the year.  I have put my house up for sale, and have taken it down, I have struggled with my own health, bad news and moments of despair.  I have shut down my blog, opened it back up and taken time to reflect on the things that became important.  I have cleansed my poor body and learned to work with it as oppose to against it. I have put some things into play and sat idly by while I let more important things pass me by.

All in all, it's been a year of learning. 

Ironically, I can remember that 2011 was to be the year about me.  And while a small part of it was, mostly it wasn't. Part of it became about the battle between myself and my all encompassing nemesis of my daily life, pain.  

But mostly, it was about the connection with others thru social media and what it brought to me.

It was about finding joy in small places, simple ideas and everyday situations.  It prompted me to start my 500 days of Happiness Page on Facebook.  Funnily enough, I never thought I would make it past day 50, and here I am at day 243, with a small but loyal group of followers who regularly contribute and do wonderful things by posting pictures, and writing songs and creating art, all in the name of Happiness.  It still makes me smile.

I found out thru the year who I could rely on and who I couldn't, I experienced joy in the reconnection of an old friendships, I found joy in the connection with new friendships, I found joy just sitting at my bistro table watching the birds in my yard.  Who knew?

I realized it wasn't about the big things in life, it was about the simple joys of living.  It was about those every day moments like reading, singing, twirling in the yard, listening to music, digging in the earth and walking hand in hand with my better half.  Sometimes it was even more simplistic than that.  Sometimes, the joy was sitting in a lawn chair watching the clouds go by.

This year wasn't the Year about Me, as I so boldly tooted in January.  This year was the Year in finding joy.  And I did.

And as 2011 starts to wrap itself up, I am excited about what 2012 will bring.  I have found that over the past year nothing is better than working together in harmony with others. It has been far more enriching than I ever expected.

And as 2012 creeps quietly upon me, I feel a creative journey ahead of me.  And it makes my toes tingle, my heart flutter and my soul aching in anticipation.

And even if I head into 2012 with a pimple in my nose, a rash on my bum and pain in my neck, I can honestly say "so what", because this year really gave me what is important in life.  It gave me YOU!  And how lucky am I! 

Happy Holidays my friends.  

Thank you for your continued loyalty, support and friendship.

You all touch my heart.

Cheers

Tracy

Giving back with a Christmas Party, just for you here on my little old blog!!!

Tis the season to give back, wouldn't you agree?

And you know, it's my turn to give something back to bloggy land. It's been awhile.  Last year, I featured 4 to 5 blogs every Monday for three months, and then in January, a wildly enthusiastic, unbelievably successful blog party happened right here on my little ole blog.  I did a crazy thing then, I just handed over the keys to my digs for 48 hours and said to my fellow bloggers to just run with it and have fun!  And they did!!!

They met new people, discovered new blogs, found new interests and new things to rev up their mojos and keep the excitement ALIVE within blogland! 

I don't know about you, but my blogging interest has waned a tad and I would sure love someone (like you), too light a great big old fire under my rather large ass and get me all worked up!

So, here I go again, handing the keys over to you!!!  

And you know what? The Rules are totally simple:

For the next 48 to 72 hours, I am handing over the keys to my digs! Yup, that's right! This party is for EVERYONE. And I mean everyone. From beginner bloggers to seasoned ones, from those without followers to those with thousands. Everyone is invited whether you follow my blog or not, take this opportunity to PIMP YOURSELVES OUT!!!!

Here's the house rules:

• Leave a comment to this post with a small description of what your blog is about along with your blog address;
• Be kind and come back periodically and check out other blogs and their addresses: and
• Meet and greet and support each other.

And when you're said and done, make sure you do your own dirty dishes, turn off the lights and lock the doors!  What?  I'm not your mother for gawdsakes! Pick up after yourselves! :)

And just so you know, I so can't wait to come and meet you all too!

Oh, and by the way, stay out of my underwear drawer while you are here! I don't want to hear about any of you running thru my place with my delicates on your heads!

And for gawd sakes, don't be shy!  Now go... meet.... mingle.... be merry! Well not too merry. Oh what the hell, be SUPER MERRY!

Average Girl vs. The Man Cold

Tis that time of season that I dread the most.  Yes, that's right, it's Man Cold Season!

Every time this year, my better half ventures out into the germ infested world of retail and comes back at some point sporting the dreaded man cold.

Nurturing by nature, my "once struck down by the dreaded influenza" better half goes from this:

TO THIS:

Now I am not one to not return the favour when it comes to handing out my fair share of tender loving care to those in need, but during cold season, I am running at a full throttle to escape the ever needy spaghetti arms of my 44-year-old-turned-5-year-old man!

Stuffed up, sneezing, coughing, wheezing, the molecule of puss I currently live with has made it his mission to try and hug and kiss and smother me during his time of plague infection.

Uttered words of "I love you" followed by his long arms stretching out to grab me and to hug me in his clutches whilst he rubs his ooey gooey snot-filled nose in my hair are regular occurrences during the man cold stage.

Cold clammy hands seem to come out of the darkness in the middle of the night and find themselves planted firmly on my back all in the pretense of providing me with a "back rub" when in fact they are heat seeking missile devices looking for a way to suck my warmth out!

Moments of "honey can you make me a tea" or "can you grab me a kleenex" all seem to happen while I am sitting on the toilet or whimpers of "what I wouldn't do for your chicken soup right now" seem to be uttered all too frequently.  

Moving like a target, I run from room to room to avoid the shower of spit that seems to evaporate from his phlegm-filled lungs.  In an effort to avoid the man cold, I don my arsenal of Tylenol for cold and hide out in my den, waiting for that moment in time when he gives that last large mucus incrusted cough that frees him from the clutches of the dreaded needy five year old to the great 44 year old I know!

Oh well, I suppose its a small price to pay when you live with such an amazing guy, but in the meantime, don't be surprised if you knock on my door and find this Average Girl sporting a surgical mask.  I may love my better half, but my momma didn't raise no fool!

Until Next Time.

Tracy

In a chocolate filled bath

Feeling sore and tired and wanting a change, I took up the challenge of cleansing my poor painful body once more. Perhaps with the annihilation of all bodily toxins, I would see a significant reduction in pain.  Prepared for the after effects of sugar, wheat and dairy product withdrawals, I filled my fridge to the brim with fruits and veggies and items that were definitely nature's version of a colon cleaner combo.

By the time I was to be finished, I knew that my bowels would be whistling dixie and hopefully so would many of my painful body parts.

As I have completed many cleanses over the years, the last thing I expected was to be on day ten of the cleanse and get my first real surge of a sugar withdrawal.  Surprised by this yearning, I have to say that sugar has never been my weakness.  I am more a chip and dip type of girl. Yes that's right, fats and salts have been my weakness for as long as I can remember, and if I could dive into a bowl of spinach dip, I would most likely be the happiest girl in the world. But yesterday, I was craving something so sweet, so delectable, so gooey and yummy that I turned a slight bump in my cleanse into a day's worth of seeking and hunting and searching thru my cupboards.

Ravenous, well at least in my mind, I sucked back strawberries and raspberries, blackberries and apples, in a fruitless attempt (pun intended) to appease the God that was ruling my stomach.  As the hours ticked by, I knew that the only thing left to do was too cheat! But with the ever watchful eye of my better half, I was stumped on how to go about it. By 8:00 p.m., I was literally climbing the walls. So with some slight manipulation, I convinced my better half that our pitiful little pooch was in some serious need of exercise and guilted him to take our doodle bug for a walk.

The moment he left, I dashed to the cupboards.  I opened this drawer and that drawer, pulled this item and that item, I searched, I hunted, I tore thru my kitchen like the Tazmanian devil on speed. I was, in short, desperate for something ooey and gooey.  Sadly, I knew that I could not eat any of the Christmas treats that I had stocked our pantry with as the food police would be counting the wares and would note any corruption of packaging.  Finally, I flung open my baking cupboard, and in a moment that can almost be declared a miracle, I saw glimmering down at me, in all it's glory, from the second shelf, a box of Bakers Chocolate.  Knowing that my better half is not aware of what all my baking supplies are, I stood up on my tip toes and yanked that box down and ripped it open before you could say "Bob's your Uncle" and just as I had the dubious piece of chocolate in my hand, my better half came trotting thru the door.  I stood there like a deer caught in the headlights, slipped the piece of chocolate into the pocket of my hoody before he saw, and mumbled something about checking out my baking supplies for Christmas.

Not knowing what to do next, I sat in the chair quivering over the smell of the chocolate that was oozing up towards my nostrils.  I was so close to having my craving satisfied, yet so far away with the Cleansing Commissioner sitting beside me.  In short, I was going NUTS!

I stood up and did a fake yawn, told my better half I was going to have a soak in the tub to kick back and relax before bed and flew like a maniac down to the bathroom, only to find him hot on my tail.  Being his usual thoughtful self, he ran my bath for me and filled it to the brim with bubbles and sat on the bed to talk to me while the tub filled up with the ever so delightful fragrant scent of sweet peas.

And then with my better half retiring to the living room, I slipped into the bathroom, stepped into the tub with the chocolate in my hand, and eased my way into the steaming hot water. And as I sat there lovingly unwrapping the chocolate square from the clutches of its wrapper, and with my mouth salivating and drooling, I bent down to give that sweet rich chocolate aroma a quick smell, when..... all of a sudden, the damn thing slid off my freaking hand and kerplunked right into the bathtub!

And because I couldn't get out of the tub without risking an inquisition from my better half, there I sat for the next 45 with a great big old chocolate smudge down by my leg staring up at me and taunting me with it's bounty. 

I won't lie, there was a moment where I thought about sticking my head under the water and licking the chocolate off the bottom of the tub, but then I farted in the tub and realized that even I have my boundaries.

So much for cheating.

Until Next time.

Tracy

A Winter's Dance

Old Man Winter has finally come to visit and leaving his gentle touch wherever he goes.  From various colours of grey painted skies, to frosting on our roofs, to the bows of trees sparkling with a web of silver, to his butterfly kisses across my face in the morning air.

And while I mock and tease those who are excited about the first snow, secretly I adore winter.  This season always invokes wonderful memories of my childhood past, from snow ball fights and snow angels, to creating paper snowflakes, to being surrounded in family.  Longings deep within my soul whirl around like fall leaves caught in a gust of wind.

The white old man reminds me of Christmases past and cherished family members that have long since left this earth.  He reminds me of my adored and much loved childhood dog and warm fires, Sundays in pajamas, homemade hot chocolate and baking with my mother.

My memories are vast and large and all encompassing, and much like a scene in a snow globe, they has been frozen in time.

As I get older and our family branches from direction to direction, I can’t quite hold onto the winters of my past.  They were simple and uncomplicated and full of beauty and I miss them.

Holidays have become about spreading myself too thin from traveling here to there and seeing this person to seeing that person, and I grow weary of the changes.  This time of the year always brings me moments of regret for not having children.  And I latch onto my beautiful nieces all the more, well aware that they are growing up. And as one informed me last year, will be moving to a new country for University in one short year and my heart breaks again.  I miss her already and fear she won’t come back. I strain to see the child in her but I can’t.  And as they grow older, so begins another change to our winter traditions.  It is growth.

Why is it that we wish to hold onto those childhood moments.  I suppose it’s because as a child they seemed perfect.  I am betting however my parents would tell me that they were full of imperfection that my innocent young eyes would not have grasped.  I prefer to keep these cherished memories as untarnished highlights of my life.

Beautiful, endearing moments of my heart and I would not have it any other way.

Yes, Old Man Winter is welcome at my house along with his ice encrusted suitcase full of my memories.  In fact, I look forward to our first Winter’s dance together, under the sky while snowflake confetti lightly touches my face and sticks to my eyelashes and I twirl under the beauty of it all feeling like the enthralled five year old of my dreams.

He is my winter lover, my solace, my moment of dreams and my friend. And like all old friends, he will always have a place in my heart and in my home.

Until Next Time.

Tracy

Beware of the woman with Pooh on her hand!

Three months in and I have to say that selling a house is nothing short of exhaustifying. It never ceases to amaze me that people think that giving me 30 minutes notice during a work day is a sufficient amount of time to leave my office unattended, go home, clean and get my dog out, drive around while they look and be back at my desk within my one hour allotted lunch period.

Now, I will admit, I am a bit of a cleaning freak and have some serious ownership pride going on and prefer to have a requisite 24 hours notice to get everything in order and to find someone to dog-sit my little boy in order to accommodate strangers and allow them the opportunity to roam freely around my home and criticize their heart out. BUT, while I do everything possible to allow the potential buyers to attend my home on their time frame, I have found that even I have limits on what is pushing the proverbial envelope.

Generally in Canada, the rule of thumb for real estate is that the realtor you hire attaches somewhere on the outside of your home a lock box which contains a spare key to your house.  The buyer's agent makes an appointment to see your house at a specific date and time for a one hour viewing increment.  You gather up your brood, if you have a brood, in my case a hubby and a pooch, lock your house up and drive around aimlessly wasting one irreplaceable hour of your life whilst strangers grab the key and wander thru your life which is now on display for all to see, and then you usually have the joy of coming home to lights on, doors unlocked, and in my case, the washroom being used and furniture being moved.  All in all, it really is a self inflicted form of violation for which you pay big financial sums for.

A few weeks ago, I finally reached my boiling point.  We had the same couple attend our house three times.  Each time, they would come in and point out what they didn't like and then leave demands such as they wanted the exact measurements of our closets or the exact measurements of our bathrooms, and we would willingly provide same in the hopes that they would buy our home.  And then weeks would go by and we would receive narry a feedback nor any indication that an offer would be made. Eventually, we would forget about them, and then they would rear their ugly heads again and make yet another appointment to see our home and the process of pleasing them would begin again.  Finally, after another long period of time, they made yet a fourth appointment to see our house on a Saturday between 11:00 a.m .to noon.  With my home in order, and everything doused in summer happy febreeze air freshener and my pooch securely placed into his carrying crate in the backseat of my car, me, myself and I and my little dog were off to drive around for an hour whilst these time wasting morons went thru our home again.

After an hour passed, I drove back home looking forward to stretching out for a couple of hours before a second set of people were to come later that day.  However upon arrival, these potential buyers were still in my home. With a u-turn of my car, I took off for another 20 minutes only to come back and find them still in there.  With some cursing under my breath and with another slightly annoyed turn of my car again, I sighed heavily and left my subdivision once more to drive in the repetitive circular pattern that I had already done for the last hour and half. About two minutes down the road, I was immediately engulfed into the most gawd awful, nose hair burning, eye watering stench emanating from inside every corner of my car.  Immediately, I whipped the windows open, tried to restrain the gag reflex I was having and pulled over to the side of the road. It was then that I realized that my poor pooch had just expressed his anal glands. And if you don't know what that is, well in a nut shell, my poor baby boy sprayed out pooh juice from his teeny tiny bum and soaked the entire inside surface of his crate.  Imagine standing amongst the rot of 500 decaying fish and smelling that in.... Ah, I see recognition on your face, well now times that by 1000 and you get my drift on what my car smelled like.

Instantly, I made a turn into our local hospital that has a wooded park like setting, pulled my poor smelly pooch out of his stinky confines and walked him around in a desperate attempt to air out his little patooty.

And as we silently strolled around the tree lined parking lot, we ran into the hospital security guard. And as I was saying "hi", my beloved pooch decided that this was the perfect time to drop a bomb that was about five times his own weight right beside the foot of the ever watchful security guard. I stood there sheepishly, blushed profusely and reached into my pocket, grabbed out a bag and picked up the offending mountain of slop and walked hurriedly back to my car.

As I was reaching my vehicle, I felt a warm oozing sensation in my hand.  And wouldn't you know it, there was freaking hole in the bag!!!

Being without any form of kleenex, I single handedly picked up my pooch in my pooh free hand, secured him into his smelly crate, and drove like a one handed maniac home while I desperately tried to contain my breakfast in my stomach.

And as I approached home, some almost two hours since I left it, I came back to find those damn people were still in it! Still in it! Still in it! Did I mention that THEY WERE STILL IN IT!!!!

With a queasy stomach, a hand covered in pooh, a dog with a smelly ass and temper to match my mother's red hair, I drove up my driveway, opened up my garage, marched in my house, looked at the startled never-to-buy-my-house-but-constantly-waste-my-time potential buyers and unceremoniously escorted them out.

With open mouths and complete shock they scurried out of there faster than you could say "Bob's your Uncle".

And the moral of the story:  If you are not going to buy my damn house, than beware of the woman with a smelly pooch and pooh on her hand, because she is prepared to slap you up the side of your head with her pooh encased hand for wasting her time!

Until Next Time.

Tracy