The Last Republicans

December 13, 2017

I just started reading the Last Republicans, the story of the relationship between presidents 41 and 43 written by Mark. K Updegrove. It’s a warm biography of a father-son relationship where love is the dominant emotion.

I liked George H.W. Bush as vice-president, then as president. He has a stellar pedigree, both in family ties and the political arena. My favorite memory of him is vomiting on the Prime Minister of Japan.

George W. Bush I thought was the worst president in history, other than James Buchanan, who couldn’t keep the United States together. Political skills aside, I would put W. on my list of people I’d like to sit down with and visit with for awhile. He gave a college graduation speech poking fun at himself telling the gathering that here in front of them is an example that a C student can become President of the United States. Classic.

Both men are very emotional and sentimental, and cry at the drop of a hat. I’m only at the very beginning of a long book, so I cannot be more informative, other than from the other books about the Bushes I’ve read.

Take the title of this book. It’s fabulous for this day and age, when we have a president who spends 4-8 hours a day watching TV, doesn’t read briefing memos, communicates by Twitter and its limited number of characters, can’t stay on the Tel-a-Prompter, lies like a rug, and, I think, hasn’t looked at our Constitution since high school if then. When a staffer was discussing the 25th amendment, Donald Trump actually said, “What’s that one?” It’s what is going to send you back to your own businesses, cheating people, hiding money, and not paying bills, or possibly a stay at Club Fed. For a guy who demands twice a day memos on how good he is at his job, he reminds me of the emperor and his new clothes.

The Trump administration is a joke on the American people, most of whom did not vote for him. I watch the news shows around suppertime, as they are mostly dinner theater. I am personally enjoying the idiocy of the leader of the free world, and laugh hysterically whenever I see a picture of his butt when he plays golf or tennis. I am confident the country will recover once Donald Trump and Mike Pence (homosexuality can be cured) are gone.

So, The Last Republicans is a warm reminder that in a subtle way, by the very nature of it’s title, this book slams the current “Republican” sitting on his fat ass in the oval office. We have five living former presidents, and the current Mr. Limpet. That would make a fine portrait. If asked, I doubt the Bushes, or at least George H.R. Bush would comply.

 


Which is it? I need some help with this one.

December 11, 2017

In my book, Drinking From the Trough,  in the Epilogue I mention Ivy. But how do you write her breed? She is a Goldendoodle.

But what is the correct way to write the breed (doodles are not really breeds recognized by the AKC, they are expensive mutts and well worth it).

Goldendoodle

Golden Doodle

Golden doodle

goldendoodle

golden doodle

What, already? I’ve seen breeders write the name several different ways in the same paragraph.

Remember that obnoxious comic who would say, “My name is Raymond W. Johnson.You can call me Ray, you can call me J, you can call me RJ, you can call me Ray Jay.” Remember that guy? Well that’s what I think of. I remembered how much that guy would annoy me while I was watching TV.

Who’s on first. Who’s on second. No, what’s on second. Get the idea?

Any help would be appreciated.

Goldendoodles-the Abbott and Costello of the dog world.


My dog is in love with a couch!

December 11, 2017

I sit here writing, and watch Ivy lying full out on my uncle’s old couch made new by expensive reupholstering two years ago.

Gone are the days of the fluffy doodle jumping up to watch TV sitting on my lap or next to me in the recliner.

My huskies were never allowed on furniture because they shed a lot. But my Goldendoodle does not, and they are not like huskies, who can be alone  for a long time. Doodles won’t spend hours out in the dog pen. They do their business to come back to their humans.

But my Ivy abandoning me for a couch?

I initially trained her to get on beds gently for her therapy dog training (put off by the fractured hip). Now, she just jumps on the couch like she owns it. I guess she does. I do have her sit and call for her to jump on the bed.

I was getting used to TV with a dog comforter. Cowboy Joe does that as he did before we got Ivy.

Happy Holidays!


Keep it in your pants, famous idiots!

December 1, 2017

I’ve been following the sordid actions of both TV personalities, and public servants. My thought is is kind of like the burglar who isn’t sorry he stole, but he’s so sorry he got caught.

The TV personalities are really stupid and sick. Matt Lauer had the perfect job, a $100M estate, and a good reputation. Since Judge Roy Moore is a senatorial candidate giving the deep south a worse reputation than it already has, women have been coming forward, every male is at risk, even the innocent ones. Lauer is not out on his ass, will probably lose his amassed money paying off his victims, and wish he hadn’t installed that door lock that closed when he pressed a button on his desk.

Then there are our public servants. Moore banned from shopping malls for stalking teenage girls? Trying to arrange dates with 15-year olds? A well-respected MN senator caught with stupid pictures taken on a USO tour when the woman was asleep? Anthony Weiner, you don’t want to know. It’s unfortunate, but my paternal grandmother’s maiden name was Weiner.

Bottom line, you sleaze bags, Keep it in your pants. We don’t want to see you. We do want to see the Chief Executive with the small hands and oversized ties get busted. With Michael Flynn’s admission of his crime(s), it is only a matter of time. While you are waiting, why don’t you read our Constitution. It’s a pretty good read.


Urine in the office

November 28, 2017

I went into my office yesterday to get something my writing coach, Judy, needed. I shooed the brothers, Cowboy Joe and Frank, out of the office. I type in my chair, so I don’t have to crutch back and forth.

This morning, I got up to let the dog out, and I heard frantic meowing upstairs. Matthew had gotten stuck in the office. I close the door because I don’t want the cats in there. Bad idea.

Of course, Matthew, 16, can’t go all night without urinating. He has chronic renal failure, and gallons of stinky cat urine is a part of it.

You can imagine the smell. You can understand I couldn’t go in because I was in stocking feet. Somewhere in there is a pile of kitty turds, I’m sure. Since I can’t vacuum or anything, I took a can of Resolve carpet cleaner, stood at the doorway, and sprayed the entire carpet. Poor Kayla, she has no idea of what she is in for next Monday, my biweekly cleaning day.


Travel plans and publishing deadlines

November 18, 2017

I woke up early this morning to use the fire hydrant, and totally forgot I must use crutches right now. I got out of bed and started walking to the bathroom. WRONG! OW! Didn’t work. I know now why I have the crutches. I didn’t fall, but I grabbed the crutches and finished what I started to do.

Speaking of starting to do things, I got a spreadsheet from one of my team members at She Writes Press yesterday of twenty three things to do before publication date-August 28. Whew! Judy, my coach, and I have our (my) parts to do, and SWP has theirs. But their work has to be approved by me.

I usually am in Arizona during April, but it’s not going to happen again this year. Last year, I had a fractured humerus, which is giving me total grief right now because I have to use my arms more, and can’t exercise. Swimming is good for the arm. So, I got a prescription for physical therapy on the arm. My surgeon doesn’t order PT for hips, just walking when off crutches. I see him in three weeks. I can ride three months after the accident, so April would be a good time to try. Hannah, my baby girl, eighteen next year, stands like a rock for mounting. Heck, she’s the horse I fell off that lead to my first hip soap opera. My sister is going to get a couple of step stools for mounting horses. We are small women, and time is marching on in our bodies. She has been climbing up on her truck’s tailgate to get on her mare Chulita, a truly gorgeous Appaloosa, and soon, her beautiful palomino rescue horse Bamboo. When I fractured my first hip, I found that I lost a lot of range of motion, and kept a stool in the horse trailer just for mounting my noble steeds.

So it’s books and horses. I will try to get a week or two in in April. I can board Ivy, and have a cat sitter come in to take care of the boys, and fly down instead of making  the long drive. We’ll see. I want the book construction zone to be as stress free as possible.

She Writes Press is such a wonderful publisher. I really feel like part of the SWP family. I am now one of their authors. That makes me feel good. Judy has given me homework to do including reading as much as possible. What a great assignment! I am currently reading Joe Biden’s book, Promise Me, Dad. It’s a good read.


Trash Day

November 13, 2017

Well, Ivy the Golden doodle went out earlier at 5 this morning to pee. Usually, I go outside to watch her at night, then she sleeps in. I can’t do that right now, as I am on crutches. I assume she has peed.

So, an hour later, after sleeping outside until 6am, Ivy barked once to come in. She is a good dog about this, and my new neighbors are pleased. Ivy knows that when she comes in in the morning, it is time for snoozing on the bed with me and the cats. She loves Matthew, my tough guy, 16, and he really likes her kisses. He will jump on the bed if Ivy is there. I adore sleeping with Ivy on the bed, but I don’t trust her for all night because she chomps up pens and pencils. She sleeps in her crate. Besides, the bed is for the cats at night.

The rest of the day, no animals are allowed in the master. One time, Matt woofed up such a potent hairball as to take the finish off one of my mother’s old dressers. Because the cats also leave prodigious vomit on the bedspread and sheets, that the door is closed all day.

I was awake, the earliest since my accident at dog school on the 27th, so we all got up. I let Ivy out, and stumped around getting my breakkie. I never appreciated having an island before. I can just push stuff around. The best kitchen I had in the best house I had was in Lubbock, Texas, and it was a galley kitchen with tons of storage space.

I’m trying to do the “homework” my editor, Judy, gave me. She is out of town, so we won’t have our weekly meeting this week. She said to read my publisher’s book, Green-light Your Book by Brooke Warner of She Writes Press. Very good and informational book.

I started to get tired and snoozed a little. What do you know, Ivy went ballistic. Lovely little dog, big bark; still pees submissively when people come whom she doesn’t know. Waiting for her to outgrow that. Today is trash day, and also recycle day. I heard the recycle truck, which comes in the morning, and stumped downstairs thanks to Ivy’s keen watchfulness for trash trucks.

First, I put the little trash can out. On crutches, this is problematic. You take the bad leg’s foot, and make fit it so the container can roll. Hang on because it’s downhill, and try to advance the crutches without killing yourself. Next, do the large recycle can. My neighbor next door did this for me last week, but now that I can put a little (15%) weight on my surgicated hip, I tried it. Phyllis saw me fumbling around and asked if this was all my trash. I said all but what is in the kitchen trash can. She took care of it, and I was so proud of myself-I put in a new trash bag.

Phillis and Sharon are going to Trader Joe’s, and I gave them a list for me. Mostly comfort food. Sharon went to Safeway for me yesterday, and I gave her a check made out to Safeway with my signature. A blank check. Also gave her my Safeway card. Safeway didn’t like it, so this time, I’ll just pay her back. I did drive to my dr. appt. last Thursday, because I hadn’t used any pain medicine. But hauling groceries is whole another thing.