Saying NO. Sometimes to make life simpler, you just have to say no. Often times in my line of work as a marketing consultant (mostly writer) (and I know this is true for my friend at Foziewisp) there are clients who take full advantage of the fact that you will go the extra mile. Only that mile turns into a trek across the Sahara desert. ..and back. And then often there is no thanks at the end of the trek. These are good clients to fire. So, what do we say the next time they call? Um. NO!
I feel compelled to add a note that these clients are none of my wonderful ones whom I also consider friends. These are the altogether different ones in the small, short-lived, pesky category.
Image from: Thomas Hawk's Digital Connection
Labrador Retriever. Ours, Saylor, is such a great dog. She is now totally on the mend after her bouts with tumors. We are very hopeful she is 100% again and going to live a nice long life. No more animal tragedies please. This old heart may just stop ticking.
Another pair of adorable labs, Butters and Bebe (of Southpark fame) belong to my work colleague and friend, Dirk, and his wife Ashley. How cute are they? That's Bebe on the right all puppy-like and snorgled in next to Butter's who probably wasn't positive, at first, why they needed another one!
L is also for . . . lymph nodes. I was all in a tizzy yesterday after discovering what I thought were swollen lymph nodes above my collar bones. Wrong. Here's the punch line. The doctor said it's subcutaneous fat. Neck fat was never so welcomed. I had a new lease on life upon leaving the doctor's office.
And, L is for . . . letter writing. Almost a lost art, but such a wonderful thing. I try to send hand-written notes and cards when I can. I don't write nearly enough of them I know, but it's something to put on that goal sheet when all the other stuff on that sheet is done. Through the years my Dad, Mom, and Grandmother wrote me tons of letters. I saved them all. Addition to goal sheet: organize and place all letters in nice box.
Cath Kidston. I have appreciated her style and fabric for what seems like decades, and finally on a trip to London I was able to visit one of her shops. Pure heaven. Amazing fabrics - all so light and bright and cheerful.
Ms. K also has a lot of cute clothing, accessories, and house stuff. I love this purse.
Justice for all the abused and tortured dogs that fell under the control of Michael Vick and his ignorant cronies. All I can say to those prosecutors is sick'em. I hope he gets to feel some of the pain he inflicted. I know sometimes people do not learn from harsh retribution, but today I am feeling particularly Italian. It's just that animals have little to no voice. If the people who understand and value their worth don't stand up for them, they are left to suffer. I consider it my duty. There are lots of petitions floating around to voice your opinion regarding old Vick. I would encourage everyone to take a few minutes to do so. One can be found here - scroll down to see it.
Hialeah! It is the place of my birth and an area of Miami. Specifically, I was birthed at Hialeah Hospital. So here I am gettin' some air on my swing set in the backyard of our house. I remember I would get going so high that one leg of the swing set would come off the ground! Xtreme sports!
Also, just for reference, in 1959 when I was born, it was during the Cuban embargo and we had many Cuban neighbors. I remember Pablo and his family who lived next door. They came to the US via a 90-mile raft trip. No lie - on a raft that they built. Pretty amazing how many Cubans (~2 million) actually made that trip (not all on rafts!?) to find a safe haven in the US.
. . . Gladioli. In Florida, glads, as they are called, grow in fields and are inexpensive and abundant. I always had them in my house. They come in so many great colors. Here, some pink ones were set out to gussy up the house to welcome my friend Lori, and her boyfriend Wayne, this past week. They were also a big favorite of Smiths fans, a band I still love.
Fort Myers, Florida. When I was 12, we moved to Fort Myers from Miami. We lived on Ricardo Avenue, which was off McGregor Boulevard, a historic street lined by palm trees. Towards downtown, off McGregor, was the Edison Home. It is a beautiful old estate, and today a woman I know, Pam, feeds a whole family of feral cats who make the Edison Home their home. I love that, because old Tom probably wouldn't like it considering his not-so-humane antics with cats, not to mention elephants. Fort Myers is on the west coast of Florida, and is a really nice place to live. My brother, sis-in-law, niece, stepmother, and a bunch of friends still live there. I don't visit near enough. This is a vintage pic of McGregor Boulevard. Other than good paving, it still looks pretty much like this.
Everything about him I just adore...still...and always will. It has been just over a month since my dearest Oreo passed away and I continue to feel the flood of love that he has left in my heart. I had a few moments of thinking I would venture into Kitty Motherhood again, but realized it is simply too soon. I love this picture of Oreo and Saylor chillin' on the rug. Schweeet!
* Domino - my childhood dog. (I'm totally copying my buddy at Foziewisp!) Anyway, there was a litter of puppies down the street and for my 5th birthday my Mom got me a darling black puppy. He was a poodle, and after his first clip we were surprised to see that underneath his puppy coat was a new coat in silver! We used to get him completely "done up" with bows and painted nails. Here he's in his summer "puppy clip" which I liked best.
* Daisy - the name I think Saylor's name should be. J. named her Saylor because he sails and windsurfs. But, to me, she's a Daisy! I call her that sometimes for the heck of it and I think she likes it. But she wags her tail at almost anything! She is absolutely darling. Just look at her here sweetly looking at the Christmas tree.
* Demolition - There seems to be no end to our home renovations. I know I shouldn't complain because it is nice to be able to improve things, but . . . for instance today we created more drywall dust than an Arizona sand storm. It seems that for most projects, before we can make it better, we must rip out the old and decrepit. Husby J. believes that a man should not just be judged by what he builds, but by what he tears down. He also believes that doing the demo yourself allows you to save a few bucks. He is Scottish, and these folks know how to make a dollar s t r e t c h. Following are a few highlights from three of our demolition projects - first the kitchen, next the bathroom, and lastly the front of the house!
Our dear dog, Saylor, just had some surgery and is sanctioned to her cone - lest she should again remove her staples. (First time was at the vet's while in her crate supposedly too drowsy from anesthesia.) When we picked her up, we were told she is not to be trusted and to keep a close watch! This past Saturday we thought, oh, we'll just let her out for a second. About 2 minutes later we walked out to find her skillfully removing staples. Eek! She now LIVES in the Cone Zone, and has been dubbed Mrs. Conzonio. Sorry girl, but you must heal! This picture finds her chillin' on the couch with Dad, watching a little telly.
Whilst in San Fran, in Berkeley, I noticed this fellow walking with his cool orange turban. Unfortunately, I only got his back as he crossed the street. The big kahuna of bhagwans apparently is Bhagwan Swaminarayan who was born on December 31, 1801 CE. I am fascinated by religion, particularly the way some of them attract members even with such crazy (to me, at least) principles. For instance, the Opus Dei and their mortification rituals. Yikes! And to any Opus Dei's out there whom I may have offended, I offer apologies and, well, band-aids.
Saying NO. Sometimes to make life simpler, you just have to say no. Often times in my line of work as a marketing consultant (mostly writer) (and I know this is true for my friend at Foziewisp) there are clients who take full advantage of the fact that you will go the extra mile. Only that mile turns into a trek across the Sahara desert. ..and back. And then often there is no thanks at the end of the trek. These are good clients to fire. So, what do we say the next time they call? Um. NO!
