The world is in a constant state of change. Things shift and move. I’m not just talking about the physical part of the world… although that faction is plenty busy in both the seen and the unseen.

More to the point, I speak of the “energy” of the world. We are all just big balls of mushed together energy.  Perfectly mushed…. so that we come out being just exactly as we are. You can call me mushy, from here on out. Or for those of you who don’t know me so well…. Ms. Mushy please.

(….OR… call me Captain Digression. It seems that is what I do best.)

Back to the changing world…. It seems our own personal worlds do the same dang thing.  Change. Yes, we DO have the mundane….the every day things, that we undertake again and again. Go to bed. Get up. Make the donuts. Go to bed. Get up….. Make the donuts.

But on another level, our lives are filled with wishes and dreams. Some of us hope to go on a great vacation… or to buy a new boat. Others have hopes of picking six and winning the lottery. There are those that would like a certain pair of shoes… or a brand new computer.

Then, there are the ones that wish they had a place to sleep tonight, or something to eat tomorrow. A few of us have thoughts that we could mend a spat with an uncle, a daughter, an old best friend from years ago.  There are the people who sit in the hospital waiting room… hoping the results of their spouse’s cancer test comes back negative.  Some wish we could have just one more day on this earth…. with a mother, or a son, or someone who is gone.

It is a small planet… indeed it is.  Because whatever that wish is… on some level…. we share in the very exact same of them all…..

I need to remember that when I yell at the guy who just cut me off in traffic. Maybe something in his life just went terribly wrong, and it has caused him to be in a great rush.

But, I do not mean to make you sad, or serious tonight.  Just maybe “reflective”…..  Not reflective like a bike light…. but instead….. filled with thought.

You see…..It is equally important for me to enjoy that walk in the sun… to smell that cow manure, and be glad for it…. to laugh at the Minions in Despicable Me…… and to eat that thin-crust-pepperoni pizza from the Rizza…. and love every bite…

Because as I look across the table… I see that….. I am sharing it with other Mushies…. just like me.

We were speaking of fools, over coffees and blackberry cobbler.  Six stooges, we were.

A friend of mine quoted Mark Twain tonight, saying….

“It is better to keep your mouth shut and appear stupid than to open it and remove all doubt.”

Ahhhh, but fools all are we. And if we weren’t dolts and galoots…… from time to time…. we’d wouldn’t have much to laugh about.

Heck… there would be no “Avocado Sandwiches at the Speedway.”

And, we would never go “Chubby Dipping” in our swimming pool.

Someone once said to me…. “I’m not laughing with you, I’m laughing without you.” And so it goes.

Yes, we are constantly on the very edge of the brilliant and profound, in all our foolishness.

As Dan Quayle once so aptly stated…..
“If you give a person a fish, they’ll fish for a day. But if you train a person to fish, they’ll fish for a lifetime.”

Oh those wise words to live by.   It gives me the goosebumps, or…. or maybe the cramps and a headache.

So, tonight I’ll keep my mouth shut…..  just appearing  to be stupid.

And, since I don’t like to fish… I’ll just take the one…. ….    ….quietly…. and be on my way.

As life would have it…..I am a City Girl.  Ingrained.  I grew up in the city.  Played on the streets under the street lights, and such…. Attended school right in the heart of downtown. I lived in the urbania until I was 25 years old.

A quarter century of my life went by… and I didn’t know anything much about nature…… Like the fact that there are actually different “kinds” of cows.

My first adult visit to the “outer skirts” was for …… a good ol’ cook out. We were sitting outside, with a corn field in view… & I asked if that was popcorn… like the “Orville Redenbacher” kind. The locals got a good chuckle out of that, I’ll tell you.

I really didn’t even know about different kinds of flowers… or birds. I knew a rose. I called red birds….”red birds” and the same for the blue ones. Be that as it may, I could tell a robin. I’d sing the song… “…….goes bob, bob, bobbin’ along….”

At any rate… clearly…. CLEARLY……I am not the nature fanatic. I love to take walks and enjoy the beauty of it…. and photograph it. See it. Smell it. But, if we are having a campfire…… let’s say…. I walk away with 438 bug bites. Everyone else… zilch.

I think too much of that nature stuff can be bad for you. Wonder Bread & Mayonnaise is the best solution to life’s woes. I’ve long said… my idea of roughing it is staying at a Howard Johnson’s with a black and white TV.

So…. please…. don’t make me camp. And….REALLY don’t make be backpack for days on end without a shower. Oh no.

Which brings up the tragic news of the backpacker killed in Yellowstone by a Grizzly Bear yesterday.  Very sad, and I absolutely hate to hear when such a thing as this has occurred.   But I gotta’ say.…. I am savvy enough to know how to avoid such an attack…. DON’T freaking walk where there are Grizzly Bears.  If I could’ve talked to the guy before he went out on the trails… I would have told him just that.

Before you take that next big walk in the woods… think twice.  Heck, think three times.  Instead, belly up to the counter…. have a bowl of mashed potatoes or some kind of white, pasty food…… and turn on the Nature Channel.  Trust me on this one.   This City Girl wouldn’t steer you wrong.

Some days I feel a little bit Old-Fashioned. And you know you are Old-Fashioned when you refer to it as just that. Today, it is much “cooler” to call it Old-School. Whatever it is in your vocabulary… some days I slip right in to that “Time Long Ago” Zone. Days Gone Past.

Just this afternoon, I was thinking about Lime Jell-O Molds. There is an awful lot to be said for the jiggly, twitching, fidgety, quivering….. yet…… perfectly formed Jell-O Mold.

You just don’t see them any more. It used to be, you would go to the family picnic and, heck…. there would be three or four Jell-O Molds there. Same with weddings, wakes, card parties, dinner gatherings…. you name it… there were Jell-O molds attending.

It was off the charts good when they would contain fruity surprises, like yummy pineapple. Or, oh my gracious goodness… mandarin oranges!  But it went to a whole different level when the mini-marshmallow was introduced. And yet one step further, when those little marshmallows were multicolored…… pastels.

I was amazed, delighted, and astounded with the appearances of such ingenuity, and creative culinary endeavors.  I was seven…. and I was sure life just didn’t get any better than that.

“Why Velma…. that is a beautiful mold you brought to the party.”

“Oh golly… thanks Jean. I saw the recipe in the last issue of Better Homes & Gardens, while I was at Doc Prichard’s the other day.”

Ohhhhhh…… the days when you had to go and consult a recipe for the Glorious Jell-o Mold.

It was right up there with Apple Pie, and Chevrolet. Drive-Ins. Poodle Skirts. Two for the price of one. Ovaltine. Code-Rings. And, Flag-Waving.  Yes, I was seven.  Maybe it really didn’t get any better than that.

Now it seems the innocence of that time has faded. The simplicity of things has been blind-sided by email, text messaging, media blitz, constant digital streams…. resulting in tacky ringtones, bothersome phrases like “24/7”  …….and unending You Tube Videos of people doing countless  thickheaded things.

You know….I miss Fred Flinstone. Ward Cleaver. My Three Sons. And Bewitched. Oh to twitch my nose, and have a cup of coffee with Gladys Kravitz. Yabba Dabba Do.

…. (heavy sigh)…..  ….  ……(shuffling footsteps)…….
I’m going out to the kitchen now, and see if I can’t find a good recipe for a Jell-O Mold.

Today, I met Ethel Taylor. I am always happy to meet a dog, I’ll tell you. I am not sure when or why I became such a fan of the canine…. but by golly, I am.  I take a special interest in their names.  This particular Yorkie was named for a school in Cincinnati.  And the school, which is an Academy, was named for Ethel M. Taylor.  Now Ethel must have been quite a woman in those parts… to have a school named for her.  I seriously doubt there will ever by a Polly C. Kronenberger Academy.  Thank goodness for the students.  That would have been awful for them.

But back to Ethel… I couldn’t find much information on her.   Not anything at all really.  (Granted… I didn’t all out “delve”….. but I tried several searches.).

So I switch gears.   On many days when I write…. when I have nothing of interest…. which many folks argue happens more often than not around here…. I’ll begin to jab around a bit.

Yes….. when I have nothing of interest… I will check historical “events” that occurred on this date.  Or famous birthdays and such.     Well.   Wouldn’t you just jump out of your skin if I told you today was Ethel Taylor’s birthday?  ME TOO!!!  But it isn’t.  Nope….. I have absolutely no idea when she was born.

Nevertheless… hold on to your golden eggs.  Today is Wanda Landowska’s Birthday.   I’m not kidding you about this….  BORN 7/5/1879 and DIED 8/16/1959.  Can you believe it?   I almost missed it this year.  Now she was a Polish (later a naturalized French citizen) harpsichordist whose performances, teaching, recordings and writings played a large role in reviving the popularity of the harpsichord in the early 20th century.  She played the harp like crazy.  And if it wasn’t for Wanda, the whole “Jack and the Beanstalk” deal would have been one big boring cat and mouse game.  The harpsichord took it to the best seller list.

But what really brings this full cycle…. Wanda loved Yorkies.  She had like 7 or 8 of them.  Wanda took her two favorites…. to many of her concerts and performances.   Her two very-best-pally-Yorkies were named Cynthia and Peggy.    NOW get this…. the owners of Ethel Taylor (this little Yorkie in the photo) are named Peggy & Cynthia.  Now how is that for a Canine Coincidence Batman?  I know.  It gave me shivers too.  Creepy almost.   So stick with me.  There’s always something we can stir up around here.  Places to go.  Wanda’s to meet.  Harps to play…. Beanstalks to climb.

Who knows the reason for sure. But whatever it is… I am a BIG fan of things historical these days. I soak up the history.

I never cared much for it as a kid, but as I get older, I am extremely drawn to it.

So today is a pretty big day for me. July 4th. I wonder how many people really know what it is we celebrate on this day…. or more succinctly… what it commemorates. The date recognizes the Signing of The Declaration of Independence. This document declared independence of the 13 colonies from Great Britain. While the entire document wasn’t actually signed by all 56 representatives on July 4th, it is the day we recognize its ratification.

That’s history many of you know. What you may not know is this….. behind all great political leaders in the United States, there wasn’t necessarily a good woman (although many of them turned to their trusted wives for advice). No. The commonality of all the great leaders was (and is)………. their trusted sock monkeys.

Sock monkeys first appeared in early Colonial times in the United States. They were easy enough to make from old socks…. the first record of a political leader and his sock monkey dates back to George Washington in 1791. Two years after he took the Office of President of the United States, Martha made George a sock monkey. He carried the little monkey nearly everywhere he went. It can only be seen in a couple of historical paintings, mainly because George liked to keep his monkey private.

Yes, the early leaders consulted with their monkeys; sought advice; and depended on them for comfort. Throughout history, the monkey-confidantes have come and gone in popularity. Most political leaders these days don’t realize the benefits of a trusted little monkey.

John Adams had one. As did Jefferson, and Lincoln.   Ahhhh, but….. James Buchanan… NO sock monkey (crappy president); and the same with Warren G. Harding… he didn’t have a monkey. Nixon… nope. W…. Dang it……. no monkey.

FDR had one though. Eleanor persuaded him to get it.  The little fella’ tooled around with him in his wheel chair.  And ol’ Harry S…. yeppers.

This is getting way too long tonight. But I was reminded by ALL of this, because….. someone came to our 4th of July Party yesterday, and KNEW this history. They left this treasured gift for me… to commemorate this historical event… a brand new rainbow diverse sock monkey.  He Rocks.  This is a gift I will value highly for a long time.  Thank You…..”Mystery Gift-er”

I am elated!  My very own Fourth of July Historical Sock Monkey.  I shall name him…. Rutledge Heyward.

Happy 4th of July to ALL of you…. AND to your Sock Monkeys.

This installment, a half-day-er… is more of an Info-mercial….. I will be returning without the regular broadcast tonight.    My big bro asked me to give the second part to the adoption story….. how the old dogs (Maxine & Frances)  and new dog (Ollie)  are doing since their first meeting.  So…. without further adieu…. PART TWO.

The first day was really too dang good to be true….. all three dogs got along swimmingly… and they don’t even swim…. not a one.  No fights.  Not really any barking or confrontations.  One big happy pack…. the all of us.   That was Friday night & Saturday.  Woof!  Double Woof!

On Sunday…. we had about 30 or so people here at the house for a 4th of July Party.  A lot of food.  People feeding the dogs without our approval.  They were just trying to be sweet… but it added to the drama that was about to ensue.

To top it all off…. I had just been bitten by a spider, or something, probably on Saturday morning.  By Sunday I was having an all out reaction… swelling, fever, aches…. and not much energy.  I am sure this too, added to the dog tension… and the drama that was about to ensue.

At any rate… we had 3 dog fights.   Without any warning really.  No apparent provocations… just petting and hands near dogs.   Ollie went after both Max and Frances on each occasion.  I really think the food-thing really had a lot to do with it.  The little girl thought someone might have been getting an insiders deal and she was the odd-dog out?  Who knows.

Today, early Monday, without all the commotions of yesterday…. things seem to be a little better.   All around.

The cat issue has reached new levels of severity, however.  I fear that Winnie will take off and not return.  This worries me deeply, and I don’t think I am doing things quite right there.  I may be trying to push too much, too soon.

And so it goes, another day in the human and animal worlds….. intertwining as they do.  A good friend of mine, L.E.M., once said about the dogs…. “They are like little children of your very own.”  Hmmmm.

Yes they are sir.  Yes they are.

Sorry… we are closed.

Had to run to the bank for some change… and to the deli for a tuna salad sandwich, with a pickle spear & chips.

Be right back in 5 minutes.  Thanks for waiting.

“Between the wish and the thing……. life lies waiting.”

Dogs are dogs.  And cats are cats.

And sometimes the two shall meet…..

We got home late yesterday evening from our home in the south.  To make a long story short….. we adopted a new dog in the north.  So yesterday evening, all the dogs and cats met for the first time.

Things actually went better than I expected.

Brief assessment of the players:

1. Maxine – 11 year old terrier mix rescue… has ruled the roost here for nearly a decade.
2. Frances – 9 year old lab mix rescue….has been ruled by her little sissy Maxine…ever since the day Frances arrived.
3. Winslow Homer, aka, Winnie – psychotic cat… 11 years old…. neurotic and prone to hallucinations, and severe paranoia.  Doesn’t care who rules the roost… as long as they don’t look at her and heaven forbid…. don’t touch her.

New kid on the block:

4. Ollie – 9 month old terrier mix… energetic, and … extremely cute & lovable …. and let’s say… um…. energetic.  Did I mention she was a bit on the energetic side?  Oh yes, and an enormous penchant for cats.

The first conversation between Winnie and Ollie:

Win:  “Touch me, you little mongrel, and I WILL slap those ears right off the sides of your head.”

Ollie:  “What the heck are ears?  Hey, can I sniff your butt again?  Then let’s touch noses… hard!  Hey… your but smells waffles.  Hey, hey… what is that possessed-demon-growl noise coming from your belly?  You need some Tums?  Hey… now your butt smell like candy corn… let me chew on your cheeks a little.. yeah, yeah, yeah…now back to your butt… oh now it smells like….. ”

We have a little work to do here.

I am pretty sure I brought my Canine-Feline Magic Wand home with me…. I just can’t remember which box I packed it in….  And until I find it…..  Things in this little corner of the animal world seem to be just a bit “Ruff.  Ruff.”

There is something about being in a vehicle for nearly 14 hours…. with two dogs, one cat, and one other human…. in Fourth of July Weekend Traffic….. that really does something to a person.

Not really a “bad” something… Just “a” something.  It changes you.

The typical psychological fixations and obsessions begin to occur, really.  Conjured word definitions.   Hallucinations.  Increased Appetite.  Ability to recall lyrics to all songs from the 1950s to present day….  and sing them loudly.

And it doesn’t just happen to one person in that particular car, truck, or van…. no.  It begins to affect all individuals, man and beast alike.

I call it Travelopathy…. also known in certain circles as Voyagitis.

You know you have reached the apex of the neurosis…. when you both order the same exact fast food meal…. down to the extra pickles…. and then for the next 57 miles, do a side-by-side critique of the Wendy’s Single with Cheese.  Not only do you thoroughly examine the cuisine at hand…. upon completion……you feel quite satisfied with your dazzling assessment of this burger and fries combo.

Other phenomenon take place.  You set a way-point as your “next stop”…. and when it gets within a hundred miles…. you say “Hey, we are getting pretty dang close.”  Oh, I like a good gallivant as well as the next Joe.  But when you start playing 20 questions, or the Volkswagen “Red One / Blue One” game… you know the Globe Trotting is better left up to that snazzy basketball team from New York.

Yes.  The effects of the trauma are far-reaching…. yet… when you pull in the driveway… they all seem to disappear.  Vanish….. Evaporate.

And all you can see are those ruby-red slippers clicking together….  and your heart begins to say…..
There’s no place like home.