My Crazy Life – September 13, 2011 – Calypso does it again

Calypso will be the death of me yet. She knows the commands – sit, down, stay, come – but does she listen – NO! I know what you are thinking – how can she know the commands if she doesn’t listen. You must not have a dog.

Last night Hubby and I came home and as usual, I am the gate opener. We had been gone a while and the dogs were waiting near the gate when we drove up. Hubby says that he has Calypso trained to sit in a particular area and wait while he drives through the gate. Then, she knows not to come until he has closed the gates because he will not play with her until he does.

I, on the other hand, have a leash on either side of the driveway hanging on the fence. Ryka does not normally come to gate when I am leaving and when I return, she will stop about fifty feet from the gate and sit and wait. Calypso on the other hand – knows no boundaries. I have to wrestle her to attach the leash so that she is held safely behind the gate when I open it. The little (55 pounds) stinker has learned this and has now started to run away – which is okay when she stays away. I drive through the gate and close it with no problem when this happens.

Last night – none of the above happened. Ryka stayed in her spot and Calypso was around her spot. Hubby drove through the gate and I was closing it when Calypso came running up just as I secured one of the gates. I managed to block her as I was reaching for the other gate – then all hell broke loose. She got around me and headed out of the gate. The highway – MAJOR highway is 15 feet from the gate. I called her and she put her tail between her legs and proceeded to walk across the highway towards the boathouse. I thought I pulled the gate closed behind me but Ryka managed to get there first and was going to follow us. When Hubby saw what was happening, he jumped out, grabbed Ryka, fussed at her, and closed the gate and came to help me catch Calypso, who by this time was on the wharf.

Did I mention that the wharf is 90 feet long? It runs the width of the property. I did not want to chase Calypso because she would have taken off. She had already managed to cross the highway safely; I could not risk her darting that way again. She saw Hubby heading towards her from the other end of the wharf and jumped to land. Hubby jumped and managed, after several long minutes, to subdue her – gotta love those policeman tactics. He then hauled her little behind across the highway and into the yard, fussing the entire time, and secured her in the yard. Her Guardian Angel was watching out for her because not a single car or eighteen-wheeler passed in this period, which is a miracle. The very stunt she pulled is the reason I do not take them out of the yard unless they are in the car. I do not want them thinking that they can cross the highway to the boathouse.

I crossed back as headlights were coming around the bend about a half mile away. We drove down the driveway and when we got out of the car, both dogs came to me, not Hubby. They were none too sure what punishment he might dole out. They followed me, cowering, into the garage and stood with their heads down and their tails between their legs the entire time I was fixing their dinner. Hubby tried several times to coax them to him, but they weren’t taking any chances. They were like two little wayward kids. I took their food outside and I must say – nothing thwarts Calypso’s appetite. She was ravenous and dug into her food as if it was her last meal.

This brings me to my big announcement. Calypso and I begin obedience classes on Saturday. One of us – hopefully her – is going to be listening by the time we graduate. I have heard good things about the classes at Pet Smart and they are guaranteed (good thing – because we may be there longer than six weeks.) So, if you have a free moment during the day – please look skyward and whisper a prayer that the training is successful.

For an on-the-move 'Navy brat,' can New London really be home? By SUSAN ASSELIN-CONNOLLY

When a friend from Connecticut sent this article she had written asking me to read it and give her my opinion on it, I had to laugh. I had just gotten through clicking to join a “You know you are from….” group, and I thought what a coincidence I receive this email within minutes of doing the very thing she was writing about. I’ve never met my good friend Susan. We became acquainted through Facebook via my cousin, Mel, who lives in the same town. 

Susan read a post I wrote on a topic that is dear to both of us and contacted me. We’ve been buddies ever since, and one day I hope to actually meet her. I know it will be as though we’ve always known each other. I am also confident that New London will feel like home because of the friends I have made. So – read her article and see if you think we can be of a place, but not from that place.

Enjoy Susan’s article and if something resonates with you, please leave a comment.  And, by the way, that little blurb about South Louisiana – that’s me!

Article published Aug 21, 2011

For an on-the-move ‘Navy brat,’ can New London really be home?

Recently, Facebook has exploded with postings on pages entitled “You know you are from (insert name of town here) if…” The sheer number of postings, with vague memories of long gone retail stores and second-grade teachers, veered quickly from interesting to irritant.

Someone posted that these pages had become the vuvuzelas of Facebook. It got me to thinking. What does it mean to have a sense of place? Isn’t it fundamentally the human condition to long for one? What is “home”? Is it an actual place or just the sense of it? Does it have a taste, a smell, a feel? Is it more, or maybe less, than a geographic location?

As a Navy brat, I read the New London page with a sense of unease. Even after 15 years of living here, can I really be “from New London” if I didn’t have Mrs. McGarry in sixth grade? Can you call a place “home” even if all of the postings read as if they are in code, while at the same time have a ring of the familiar? Because so too did the Norfolk, Va., and the Portsmouth, N.H. postings. Having moved so frequently as a child, multiple cities and towns on any coast could qualify as home. The realization that none of the pages applied to me, yet all of them did was unnerving. How can you explain a flash of recognition generated by a posting from a bayou town in Louisiana, a place that should be foreign? Can you be from someplace if you have never been there? More to the point, can you be from some place but not of that place?

In Everett Edward Hale’s short story “Man Without a Country,” Army Lt. Philip Nolan renounces the United States during his trial for treason and is subsequently sentenced to live the rest of his life at sea with nary a mention of his homeland. Each of us can recognize the exquisite pain such a punishment portends. Being stripped of the very sense of home, that place “when you go there, they have to take you in,” is akin to a slow, painful crushing of your soul.

An email from an old friend brought all of this into focus. Dr. Robyne Diller, a psychologist whose practice was formerly in New London, wrote to tell me she has finally written her book and would be in Connecticut on a book tour.

The book, entitled “How Everything Changed,” is essentially about feeling disconnected and yearning for home, that place Maya Angelou describes as “the safe place we can go as we are and not be questioned.”

It is also that place we can breathe most deeply, most authentically. Five years ago, Dr. Diller had a very busy practice, a house on the shoreline, and a creeping, insidious knowledge that she didn’t belong. Back then she might have described trying to put it into words as difficult as trying to catch a wisp of hair that falls against your cheek on a windy day. She simply knew she was merely masquerading as a person who belonged.
In the midst of her time of feeling disconnected from herself, from her thoughts of belonging, of being home, she traveled to Israel as a special celebration of her son’s bar mitzvah. Within a day of landing in Tel Aviv she realized that her ache for home had faded, for she had finally arrived. She had found her place of belonging.

Within a year she closed her practice, sold her house and had moved to Israel. She went home, leaving all that should have been familiar behind. Her book eloquently describes that journey home to a place she had never lived. She now was coming home to talk about finding home in a foreign land.

Perhaps the better question then might be: Can you be of a place but not from that place?
The author practices law and lives in New London. 

My Crazy Life – The First Church of Southern Football re-opens its doors….August 29, 2011


            It’s almost September, and The First Church of Southern Football has re-opened its doors, and the faithful congregation is back in the fold. And, as anyone from the South will tell you, Saturday is considered a Holy Day around here.

            I began devouring my Southern Living magazine the minute I grabbed it from the mailbox, and found The 10 Commandments of College Football Fandom. I just knew that I had to share this with everyone. I hope you enjoy it.


The 10 Commandments of College Football Fandom

1.         Thou shalt wear team colors. But, think twice before adorning yourself with body paint – you don’t want to be the Internet photo that goes viral.

2.         Thou shalt know – and sing – your team’s fight song from beginning to end. Sure, you can “watermelon watermelon” your way through the Alma Mater, but not memorizing the fight song is a fan failure.

3.         Thou shalt keep your language clean (unless, of course, the quarterback fumbles on fourth and goal).

4.         Thou shalt support the coach. Even when his calls are questionable.

5.         Thou shalt be respectful to visiting teams. Remember: Southern ladies and gentlemen never boo.

6.         Thou shalt set up a tailgate no fewer than three hours before kickoff (six if it’s a night game). Table linens and matching huggers encouraged, but not required.

7.         Thou shalt theme your tailgate food around the visiting rival. Gator bites, anyone?

8.         Thou shalt stay through the fourth quarter – rain or shine. That’s what ponchos are for, y’all.

9.         Thou shalt respect the solemnity of Game Day by planning weddings, births, and other events around the football schedule.

10.       Thou shalt not covet other teams’ bowl games, national championships, or Heisman Trophy wins. There’s always next year.


So…who will you be rooting for?


Geaux LSU Tigers!


Donna ‘Lucy’

That Day in September (a personal remembrance of 9/11) By Artie Van Why

That Day In September


From the Book:

I want it to go away, I don’t want it to have happened.

But it won’t, and it did, and I was there.

I wanted to catch that falling man with the flailing arms and legs.

But I couldn’t, and I didn’t, though I was there.

I wanted to be a hero, doing more than I humanly could.

But I wasn’t, and I didn’t.

I wanted to stay there, in the street, not afraid.

But I didn’t, and I was.

I wanted to be there through the end.

But I wasn’t.

I wanted to stay and rescue.

But I didn’t.

I wanted to be more injured, more dirty, more at risk.

But I wasn’t.

I want to imagine being buried, being missing, being gone.

But I can’t.

I want to know why I survived, and others didn’t.

But I don’t.

I want it never to have happened.

But it did.

Book Quotes:

“I don’t remember which came first, the shudder of the building or the loud sound. They probably came at the same time.”

“I fell in love with the World Trade Center my first week down there…I’d sit each morning on one of the stone-slab benches that were around the perimeter of the fountain at the World Trade Center with a copy of the newspaper I had picked. I would read my paper, drink my coffee, smoke a cigarette. I would watch the people passing me on their way to work.”

“Walking out onto the street the next morning was like walking into stillness. There were no cars on the streets, no horns blaring. Only the occasional wail of a siren haunted the quiet. I remember the weather being, as it was the day before, beautiful.”

“I believe God was in the hands of everyone who reached out to help someone else. He was in the arms of people on the streets as they embraced one another. He was in the tears of strangers who cried together. He was in all the lives that were given in the line of duty, in the acts of heroism. He was in the hearts of the people across the country who, as they watched the horror from afar, felt compassion.”

“…we stepped out onto Church Street, the street I had been on during most of the attack-the street where I had watched all those people fall to their deaths-the street I was on when the second plane hit-the street from which I had to run for my life.”

“I saw many people lose their lives that morning. In particular, I think of the many people I saw jump to their deaths. I think of their courage, knowing they were going to die. I think of that one moment in which they watch had to decide for themselves how their lives were going to end. They had to choose how to die. They took that leap.”

“And to honor those who are gone, I will not forget to live.”

About the Book:

We all have our stories to tell of where we were the morning of September 11, 2001. This is one of them. In “That Day In September” Artie Van Why gives an eyewitness account of that fateful morning. From the moment he heard “a loud boom” in his office across from the World Trade Center, to stepping out onto the street, Artie vividly transports the reader back to the day that changed our lives and our country forever. “That Day In September” takes you beyond the events of that morning. By sharing his thoughts, fears and hopes, Artie expresses what it was like to be in New York City in the weeks and months following. The reader comes away from “That Day In September” with not only a more intimate understanding of the events of that day but also with a personal glimpse of how one person’s life was dramatically changed forever.

The Author:

Image of Artie Van Why

Originally from Maryland, Artie Van Why moved to New York City in November of 1977 to pursue an acting career; albeit a slightly successful one.

Artie left show business in 1988 to enter the corporate world; as a word processor. He worked for the same law firm in midtown Manhattan for thirteen years. In June of 2001, his firm moved to other quarters downtown, across from the World Trade Center. Artie was at work the morning of September 11th, and witnessed the horror of that day from the streets.

He quit his job after three weeks of being back at his office’s building near what was now called Ground Zero. He began writing about his experience of that day and the days and weeks following, giving a vivid accounting of what it was like to be in New York City on that day in September, and afterwards. He sent some of his writings to friends and family via emails, and they, in turn, forwarded them to their friends and family. In a short period of time people across the country were reading Artie’s emails. He began receiving emails from people expressing their gratitude in being given a glimpse of what it was like to be in New York City during that time. He was encouraged to keep writing, and he did. Led by a personal conviction to tell his story of 9/11, Artie returned to his theatrical beginnings and began adapting his writings into a script. Laboring over draft after draft, Artie wanted to create a work he could share with people across the country.

During this time, he met famed actor, Richard Masur, through a mutual friend. Richard had done weeks of volunteer work at Ground Zero during the weeks of rescue and recovery. With Richard’s help, Artie put the final touches on the script and produced a staged reading of what was now a one man play called “That Day in September” in New York City. The reading was a success, a sold out evening. With Richard now involved as director, the first mounted production of “That Day In September” premiered on the campus of California Lutheran University, in Thousand Oaks, California, shortly after the one year anniversary of September 11th. The play then moved to the Celebration Theater in Los Angeles, where it opened to critical acclaim.

Back in New York, Artie mounted a workshop production of “That Day In September,” in preparation for a New York run. In August of 2003 “That Day in September” opened Off Broadway for a limited run.

After the New York production, in September of 2003, Artie moved to Lancaster, Pennsylvania, where he now resides.

Still compelled to tell his story of 9/11, Artie shared his experience of that day for churches, civic groups and as the key speaker in a series of conferences on PTSD for Drexel University.

The response garnered from those speaking opportunities encouraged Artie to do whatever he could to preserve the memory of 9/11 in people’s minds. To that end he self-published “That Day In September” as a book adaptation in 2006.

My Thoughts:

I felt it was imperative to open this review with the quote from the book rather than the “About the Book” that I normally begin with. I think the author did an outstanding job of putting into words what many of us were thinking that day. I also changed “My Review” to “My Thoughts” as my mind couldn’t wrap itself around the word review after reading this book.

As the author stated, we all have our stories to tell about where we were the morning of September 11, 2001. I know, in my own life (in South Louisiana), I had great hopes that morning, dreams of a relationship on the verge of being re-established. And, as the towers plunged to the ground, so did my own hopes.

I wasn’t in New York that fateful day, but I do have family that live just outside the city. For several days, I had no idea if they were involved in the pandemonium that had become Ground Zero. I had never even looked at a map of the city. My daughter and son-in-law now live in New York City. My daughter teaches at a wonderful little school in Times Square and my son-in-law teaches at a school on Wall Street. This tragedy is never far from my thoughts.

Now, having visited New York, and being familiar with where the towers once stood, I was able to visualize Artie’s thoughts and actions that morning much more vividly. I remembered street signs as he wrote about running up one street and down the other. I know of the downtown he spoke of, and the midtown where he walked with countless others. I understood his need to help others, yet feeling helpless. I walked, and ran in his shoes, as I read his words. I also understand how the brain can only take in a certain amount of tragedy before it shuts down.

“The sphere that sat atop the fountain in the plaza was amazingly found in all the rubble, though in pieces. It was lovingly put back together by the workers at the site and now stands in Battery Park; once again whole, though dented and damaged, but standing strong. Much like our city.”

I have been to Battery Park and I have stood before the sphere, myself whole, but dented and damaged from life, not at all unlike Artie. “That day in September” is a book of healing. Artie’s book is not a book to read and then add to the bookshelf. It is a book that begs to be passed from hand to hand so that all of us can know what the people who were there in the midst of the chaos felt and still struggle with. It is a book of remembrance for a tragedy that we, as Americans, should never forget.

I would like for you to comment and share your thoughts as you think back on where you were and what you were doing on 9/11 when the towers came tumbling down. Thank you.

Commercial for That Day In September:


Well, I have great news for everyone! The author, Artie Van Why, has graciously offered two books for our giveaway.

This is open INTERNATIONALLY, so everyone can have a chance! The international winner (should this apply) will receive an e-book version. 

All you have to do is follow this blog publicly and give your comments down below! Please include a valid email address so I can contact you. The giveaway will close on August 26, 2011 and the winners will receive an email on August 27, 2011.

 Tweets about this give away are greatly appreciated! Thanks in advance for Tweeting!

Disclaimer / Disclosure: I received a complimentary copy of the book with no obligation for a positive review. No compensation – monetary or in kind – has been obtained for this post. Cover art and book description courtesy of the author, publisher, or PR firm.


Another Bad Dog Book by Joni B. Cole

Another Bad-Dog Book: Tales of Life, Love, and Neurotic Human Behavior

About the Book:

Eli the Chihuahua, also known as “Eee-Pie-Pie,” is a very bad dog. At only nine pounds he has discovered how to defy a $900 invisible fence system. He pees on imported Italian silk fabric. He won’t let anyone pet the family cat in peace. And yet, his owner, Joni B. Cole, has accidently ranked him higher than her husband and kids on her “happy list” and imagined kidnapping scenarios when a paperwork mix-up threatened to relocate him after his adoption went through.

In answer to countless memoirs recently published about shiny-coated yellow labs, or similar loping breeds, Cole brings new energy to the “bad dog” genre with her pup, a tiny mutt with blackish, fuzzy fur and big, pointy ears. To the purebred breeders of the world, the closest Cole can guess is that Eli is a disheveled Chihuahua Bat.

Cole’s talent for turning everyday moments into hilarious and meaningful episodes show that even the smallest occasions can mean a huge amount of laughter. The lessons Cole has learned from being a mother, wife and pet owner are more practical than heartwarming, and her charismatic voice is more honest than sentimental (“Unfortunately, my career as an author had not been going so well these past couple years, not since I’d discovered the ‘Watch Instantly’ option on NetFlix”). Another Heartwarming and Hilarious Dog Story offers a message of simple love through essays of everyday proportions.

About the Author:

 Joni B. Cole

You can find Joni here:

Twitter: @JoniBCole

 Her humor and human-interest essays have appeared in her monthly newspaper column as well as assorted literary journals. She is also a frequent contributor to The Writer  magazine. Co-founder of the Writer’s Center in White River Junction, Vermont, Cole has taught writing for over fifteen years, and is a popular speaker at writing conferences around the country. She lives in Hartford, Vermont with her husband and two daughters.Author of Toxic Feedback: Helping Writers Survive and Thrive, Library Journal “strongly recommended” the book for writers, teachers, and workshops. Joni B. Cole is also founding creator of the acclaimed This Day in the Life series, a three-book collection of women’s daily lives.

Book Quotes:

            “Mommy,” my six-year-old asked, “Did you burn The Monstrosity down?”…I admitted I had no alibi.

I am not the self-service type, having spent years perfecting the are of learned helplessness.

“What kind of computer is it?” my computer guy asks. “A laptop,” I reply impatiently. Even I know that much.

My computer guy is really nice, but sometimes I get the feeling he’s trying to avoid me…he insists I’d be better off calling the company’s technical support center. Then he hangs up…I’d rather phone my mother-in-law and listen to her retell the story of how she saved $1.25 on a box of fire logs by going to four different malls.

Eleven-year-old hormones are to blame…radical mood swings…look on her face that spoke volumes – your existence horrifies me. Why can’t you spontaneously combust, or at least be normal like other moms?

Tears glazed her eyes, as if I was Mommy Dearest and her father was social services.

My Review:

            I know that this is a short review, but what can I say except I loved this book. I could stop here and to me that would be enough. But, just so I can convince you that you need to read this book, I’ll add a few additional points.

First of all, don’t you love the quotes. They are straight from any one of our lives. I loved Joni’s short story format. It was like sitting down for a gossip session with a good friend. By the time, I closed the book (turned off the Kindle) I felt as if I had known Joni B. Cole for years.

Through her stories, she takes us on a journey through her life and she leaves us laughing and crying at different times and sometimes at the same time. Some of the stories are heart breaking and others leave you wondering how she’s made it through life thus far with so little scrapes.

I saw so much of myself in some of her stories that I felt we were kindred spirits. It is a definite must read. It will have you remembering all of those funny stories of your own life. And, as I said in the beginning, this is a short review, but this is all it took to say how much I truly enjoyed this book. You will too.

Author Interview:

Do you remember the first story you wrote? What was it like?

In elementary school I wrote a story about a girl sneaking inside a rocket ship (her dad was a famous rocket scientist) and suddenly it took off! I don’t remember the finer plot points, but it all turned out fine (then, as now, I never liked stories with unhappy endings). But here is something you just made me realize by answering this question. While the story was fictional (obviously!) in real life, I have always had this irrational fear of suddenly finding myself clueless at some control panel. No wonder I’m so intimidated by technology!

Anyway, I don’t recall writing much fiction after my rocket ship adventure until my mid-twenties when I collaborated on a farce with another copywriter at an ad agency where we both worked. The piece had no plot or future, but it did kindle my interest in humor writing. And, as a gossipy side-note, my collaborator went on to become a writer for the Tonight Show with Jay Leno.

Do you use paper and pen, old-fashioned typewriter, or computer/laptop? Is there a specific place that you like to write?

I use a laptop, unless it’s too big to lug around, in which case I write in my “lucky” notebook. It’s “lucky” because when I got the idea for what became my title essay in Another Bad-Dog Book, I was in Borders at the time (boo hoo, no more Borders!) and I didn’t have anything on which to jot down my thoughts. So I bought this notebook and starting writing in the café. Three weeks later, I showed the opening of that essay to a publisher who had previously turned down my proposal for a collection of humor essays, and she said yes!

Every time I look at my lucky notebook (which I carry in my purse) I’m reminded of two things. 1.) I need to write down my ideas as soon as I have them, just in case they amount to something. And 2.) My first drafts are bad; as in really bad! But, that’s okay. Because, with revision they may turn out just fine!

What is the best part of writing for you?

Writing is hard, but it’s harder when I’m procrastinating, or over-thinking, or whining about writing, which makes it all seem so overwhelming. So, the best part of writing for me is when I am actually doing it, even if it feels like slogging. I also prefer rewriting to facing a blank page. Give me something—anything—to work with and I’m more in my element. I also love that feeling when I reread something I’ve written and realize, Yes! It actually communicates what I wanted to say.

Tell us something about your books.

I came up with my three-volume “This Day” series about a decade ago, when I was having a very bad day. My dad had recently had a stroke. My career was going nowhere. And, my four-year-old refused to put on socks on on a frigid Vermont morning. All of which caused me to wonder if anyone else was having such a lousy day. And, from that thought, I began to wonder what were other women actually doing and thinking and feeling on this very same day. And so a book series was born, in which I invited about five-hundred women across the country and from all walks of life to create a “day diary” on a single day…and share it with the reading public. The most recent title in the series is: Water Cooler Diaries: Women across America Share Their Day at Work (“both fascinating and eye-opening,” Publisher’s Weekly.”)

In addition, I wrote Toxic Feedback: Helping Writers Survive and Thrive. This book came from my experience as a struggling writer, and as a long-time writing teacher who has witnessed too many times the destructive power of feedback; when, in fact, feedback is one of the best resources we have as writers, if it is given and received with thoughtfulness and a positive attitude. Toxic Feedback is often lauded for its humor, but its message is serious. Library Journal “strongly recommends” Toxic Feedback as a resource for writers and teachers, and American Book Review writes, “I can’t imagine a better guide to [writing’s] rewards and perils than this fine book.” I’m really proud of this book.

And, then of course I more recently wrote Another Bad-Dog Book: Tales of Life, Love, and Neurotic Human Behavior. I love writing personal essays, though I have to say my family isn’t too crazy about the idea. Ha.

What is something that most people wouldn’t necessarily know about you (that you would be willing to share here, of course!)?

Hmm? Given that I seem to talk all the time, this is a tough one. Plus, I am pretty much how I appear to be in Another Bad-Dog Book—neurotic, loving, wanting to be loved, petty, generous, a people person who is also a curmudgeon… Because I often write humor, people might not know that I am very serious about my work as a writer and writing instructor.

Top 3 things on your bucket list.

1.) To be less self absorbed and kinder on a daily basis.

2.) To say “yes” to more new experiences, even if they intimidate me.

3.) To learn how to salsa dance!

When you aren’t writing, what are you doing?

Enjoying the company of my daughters (ages 14 and 12) when they’ll tolerate me; vegging out with Netflix; socializing with friends; teaching classes and running workshops; serving on a couple boards; talking baby-talk to my dog and cat; reading; examining my laugh lines in the mirror; avoiding cleaning….

Everyone loves to win a book.

Well, I have great news for everyone! Joni B. Cole has graciously

offered an e-book for one lucky commenter.

(To enter – please visit

My Life. One Story at a Time.: Another Bad Dog Book by Joni B. Cole

This is open INTERNATIONALLY, so everyone can have a chance! 

All you have to do is follow this blog publicly and give your comments down below! Please include a valid email address so I can contact you. The giveaway will close on August 22, 2011 and the winners will receive an email on August 23, 2011.

Tweets about this give away are greatly appreciated! Thanks in advance for Tweeting!

If you found this review helpful, please click the icon below and check yes on

my review. Thanks in advance for voting. 

You can find Another Bad Dog Book on


Disclaimer / Disclosure: I received a complimentary copy of the book with no obligation for a positive review.  No compensation – monetary or in kind – has been obtained for this post. 

Cover art and book description courtesy of the author, publisher, or PR firm.

My Crazy Life – August 12, 2011 – Stopping an old man’s heart

I was in Walmart earlier in the week, and as I was walking out, I couldn’t help but notice that I can still turn the heads of men, even if they are the heads of 70-year-old men! Ya gotta bless their little hearts they made my day. Of course, who else is going to be warming the bench at Walmart at 9 am on a Tuesday morning? They had their bottles of Geritol and I’m sure they were telling each other stories about how they could attract a girl’s eye in the day when I walked by. I have to say I looked nice. The make-up was looking quiet fresh at that time of the morning, rather than tired as it does by the end of the day. And, I was dressed in a pretty color – off setting the beautiful blue of my eyes (this girl knows her assets – men used to give me a dollar bills when I was little because they thought my eyes were beautiful.) I was also thinking it was probably the red lipstick that had their tongues a hangin’. Back in the day, that’s the color that women wore, not the natural flesh tones you see today.

Which brings up another thought – I have often wondered (and never asked) why women want to wear lipstick the same color as their lips. It doesn’t make sense to me (in my opinion.) Of course, if I wore a color the same shade as my lips, you wouldn’t see my lips. I have always loved bold colors when it comes to lipstick. When I am in a particular feisty mood, I always wear red. Red means don’t mess with me today; I’ll have you for lunch.

And, now (drum roll please) a story about Calypso. You know by now that there will always be a story (or a paragraph) about Ryka and Calypso. I was sitting out on the front porch (that’s what we Southerners do) watching Calypso chase the mosquito hawks and it suddenly dawned on me (I think they may have even been a streak of lightening and a crack of thunder) that she loves life. She is the happiest dog; you can see it in her face. She loves everything about living. She loves to dig. She loves to eat. She loves to run and jump. She loves to tear things up and scater the remains around the yard.

She loves to chase bugs. She loves to eat bugs. She loves to chase her ball (she does not like to give it back – we play with two.) She loves water, especially if it’s coming out of the water nozzle. She loves her swimming pool (and if you are squirting her with water all the better.) Calypso loves living. Calypso and Ryka’s newest thing is playing and sleeping on the new utility trailer that Hubby purchased (big boy’s, big toys.) When the sun goes down and Ryka is ready to sleep, she climbs up and picks a spot. Eventually, Calypso ends up at the opposite end, and after a round of chase the tail, she settles down and falls asleep.

Calypso also reminds me of a ferret. Isn’t that the animal that likes to take things and hide them from unsuspecting owners and visitors? Well, Calypso doesn’t hide things; they are on full display in her playground (the front yard.) She just digs and finds things and carts them out to the front yard for all to see, things you never knew you had.

I had a mail episode the other day. I went be-bopping out to the mailbox to retrieve the mail and when I opened up the mailbox, a big, black bug came out with the mail. I handled the situation quite rationally. The mail went one way and I went the other! Then, I had to pick it all up before it blew onto the highway. This was after I kicked each piece to make sure the bug was not on it. Have I ever mentioned that I HATE bugs. Let me then, “I HATE bugs!”

Lucy Jr. had an episode the other day too. Daughter and son-in-law are both musicians and graduated from LSU (Go LSU Tigers!) with music degrees. They have tons of musician friends all doing a variety of jobs. On this particular day, they were helping a friend out who is a high school band director. Daughter said one minute she was instructing the kids in the pit (that’s percussion section for all you non-musical folks) and the next, someone was patting her and asking her if she was okay. She was talking one second and the next second was flat on her back with her head split open. Daughter fainted; never saw it coming. She actually fell straight back. It was first thought that she also had a concussion. She was vomiting and couldn’t remember who she was or where she was (wait – I tried that once, didn’t work.)

Son-in-law (yeah Son-in-law – he did good!) took her to the hospital. In the emergency room, she was asked if she wanted staples or stitches. She sat there for a moment and then told them, she was already in enough pain, why would she want to inflict more and was there any more options. She was told superglue. You know how that apple don’t fall far from the tree. She told them glue away. Turns out, Son-in-law had an almost episode too. When the tech starting drawing blood, he was taken out in the hall and given juice because they thought he was going to pass out.

That’s about all the excitement this week. Stay tuned, I’ll be posting a story about the date I had with Hubby on Sunday.

Ya’ll come back now,


Donna ‘Lucy’