Spring

I can tell we're in springtime again. Nope. The weather is still cold and miserable. No buds are are beading the black branches. Even the early little flowers are not doing the peeping above the earth. I and all the rest of my compatriots know it's spring because gas prices are climbing up the green pole at the gas station.
Talking heads are explaining that a) troubles in Libya raise prices, b) an influx of worms invaded Mrs. Smith's gardern, c) cows are flatulent, d) a short rainfall in Outer Mongolia made roads slick last night.
If you guessed that none of the above is a reason, you're right.
What happened is the yearly discussion.

Some Senator mentioned that Oil Companies get huge tax breaks, make huge profits and pay a pittance in taxes. Americans like to drive on vacation. It's the annual opportunity for big speeches about a free market.
(By this is meant a market without restrictions of any sort. Let the market rule itself! Look at the banking system.)

Over

Balls done.(until May)
I think I begin to see a method to the madness that is the fundraising ball stuff..
People and companies pay for seats.
People are sequestered in a room with a silent auction.
People are herded into a dining room.
Noise of all sorts limits conversation to shouting. THIS is important because these affairs are an ocassion of sin for the married. One person will have bid on a useless item and paid too much. No spouse can be trusted to speak with absolute tact.
Candy, cakes and sweets are in another room. This room always has a loud band, a small dance floor and too few seats.
Serves to thin crowd out after the partaking of sweets.

Not Again.

I have to go to a ball again. This is not funny.

Papered to madness for Johnmybrother

Spent the morning filling in forms, calling people and trying to make out various gov't. papers. Clarity is not their forte.
In one of my work incarnations I was a secretery for Legal Aid. Naturally I worked in a mental hospital.
I was astounded and grateful to get the job. Cyndi was preggers and living with me. I'd quit my last job when the boss got his gun and went after the delivery guy. I just couldn't figure out why they hired me. I could only type 45 words a minute in a strong wind.
Come to find they wanted an English Major to keep the grammar clean, to research and to refill the binders when law changed and a new law needed to be inserted. More importantly they wanted a person to go over to the building where the mental hospital was housed  do the required interview with the patients.
Fine with me. I was right at home among the patients, most of whom were drugged way past all reason and good medical practice into a comotose state. Generally their only problem was drooling, poor bunnies. They did face a lifelong sentence in one of the big state hospitals, thus the presence of Legal Aid.
The point is, I was a lousy secretery. I had to bribe the people down the hall to do any quick fancy typing.
I hated keeping records. I could never remember what day it was and I had trouble telling time.
I still hate records. I hate stray papers with fill in the blanks. I hate remembering all the damn numbers-my social and John's, the state numbers, the feds. I hate official headings which tell me I'm dealing with the State Personal Prying , Waste Management and Really Advocation Committee. I REALLY, REALLY HATE PHONE TREES.
I think that the answer to our nations' problems is simple. Destroy all phone trees. Install some people. Pay very little if you must, but insist that these people be local-the US-and speak English or Spanish. People would rejoice. Business would get done. Happy hearts would swell with joy at a question answered.
BAN. "Hello, your phone call is important to us. We may monitor it for our purposes. If you want to buy and hinge, press one. If you want to see our vet, press two. If you want to hear our recorded message about your taxes, press three. If you want................................................and if you are hard of hearing press 128764509784720675409 and we'll amp up the sound of our elevator musik. Have a nice Day!"

perrfect

I've been so good. I almost feel virtuous.I sent the Christmas presents to SA, I paid a parking fine, I bought stuff thats important that I usually forget. I now own several glues and have used them. I bought some furnace filters and replaced the old one. Here I'd thoguht that furnaces were men's job. Dumb! As my friend said as she clutched her heavy coat around her shoulders (we we sitting in the kitchen), "Why should it be a man's job?" I managed to get the top off some wash soap John bought and to put my coat in the washer with soap! I bought new pee-pee pads for Mickey as he sometimes can't make it and... Sh-t! Winnie has her trained duo dogs lined up with her. They're all sitting and staring at me. Winnie's decided she's hungry at 3:30 in the afternoon.
I hate it when they do this.

Advice about training - Winnie

I had a fine education by a testy terrier I found in my new home. Naturally he had to prove dominance. I have a fine scar on my head that announces that I once accepted a superior. Louie the terrier taught me to sit guard on the back of the couch. It's the best way to see the whole street. He showed me how to get away with all sorts of things concerning food-and how not to get caught. He showed me the basics of control-to show joy when a human entered the house, to stare soulfully into human eyes and to preform a minimum of tricks to keep human delusions steady.
Then my humans brought me puppies.

Nancy: An Owner's Manual

She has the nerve to call us the "damndogs." I've heard her say it when she talks into square back boxes. More, she resents being interruped ...like we MEAN to get her away from black boxes for nothing. The dim female didn't even notice that our water bowl was empty. Sometimes I wish I'd just walked back into the truck instead of parading around looking for an owner. I should have developed an intelligence test for dog owners, but I didn't have time and look what I got.
Take last night. She went to sleep next to him. Instead of staying downstairs and tending us, she had the gall to leave us while we slept.
I had to go upstairs and pull on her to get her awake and moving. She was doing that cursing stuff under her hreath all the way to our room. (She calls it the living room). When I finally got her to turn on the light and LOOK at Mickey she was horrified. He'd caught a nail on his back leg in his collar. He was rolling aroung like a ball and he was ridiculous.She fixed him up and made us both go outside in the freezing cold for a "pi pi." She means to say mictuate but I don't think she can pronounce the word at 2:30 in the morning. Oh well. We pinned her to the little couch so she wouldn't wander and slept deeply.