Our dog, Penny Lane, passed away on April 1st.

She was only 3 years old.  She was such a smart and pretty girl.

And we loved her so much.

Penny was very much her dad’s dog. They shared a special bond since she was just a pup. Her favorite part of any day was when he would get home from work.

Her epilepsy was uncontrollable. The “worst case of canine epilepsy” our vets had ever seen. She was on every medication we could give her. There was nothing else we could do. At the end, she could not stop seizing. She could not fall asleep without waking with another seizure. She was literally exhausted.

And she was sad.

That we could not tolerate.

There’s not much else left to say about a dog that was loved so very much and fought for and still lost at way too early an age.

Our house is ridiculously quiet now without her and we are very sad.

She is the last dog we’ll ever have. Epilepsy has scarred us, but

Nothing will erase the wonderful memories we have of when she was having her good days

and just being

Our Penny Lane.

First picture ever taken:
January 2016

Last picture taken:
March 2019

Me n my girlfriend  💕

The Easter Bunny squeezed through the narrow aisles that now plagued his home. He could hear 2 girls fighting on Jerry Springer on his tv across the room but couldn’t see them because of about a million colorful plastic eggs piled high on the floor and furniture.

Bunny felt sad. He knew those chicks were probably ripping each other’s wigs off. And he was missing it.

He smooshed himself between a mile high pile of boxed Peeps and his kitchen counter. Reaching into a cabinet, he pulled out a can of Spam and cracked it open. Then he pulled his Lucky Strikes and a lighter out of the pocket of his ratty blue terry cloth robe.

The smell of chocolate bunnies and jellybeans in his home overwhelmed him, so as he chomped away at the block of meat and sucked deeply on a cig, he made sure to enjoy the hammy smoke scent sensation as it temporarily hung in the cramped air around him.

Every Spring, Bunny experienced stress to the Nth degree. Sometimes he wished he had never gone into the family business and taken over for his dad. But the old man needed a replacement, none of Easter’s siblings wanted the job, and God knows he spent his entire life just trying to get an ounce of his father’s approval.

So now, once a year, he had the hell of candy prep and one night world-wide delivery to contend with.

He was tamping his cigarette out on the counter next to hundreds of cartons of malted milk ball eggs when he heard his overnight guest attempting to come down his stairs.

“Easter?” she called out. “Where are you?”

“In the kitchen, babe,” he replied.

He heard all kinds of rustling around and muttering of swear words as his lady love walked the crazy candy maze.

Finally she popped into view.

Mrs Claus was pulling her sweater close around her shoulders, her weird little elasticized hat and eyeglasses askew. She straightened the glasses and looked at Bunny.

“There you are!” she exclaimed. “How much candy do you have in this place anyway?”

“You should be used to this kind of thing,” Bun said. “There’s a lot of good little kids out there, I guess…the little bastards.” He lit another cigarette.

Bunny and Mrs Claus looked at each other. In the background they could hear the people on tv cheering “Jer-ry! Jer-ry! Jer-ry!”

They smiled at each other.

“Would you like some Spam?” he asked. She shook her head.

“Cigarette?”

She shook her head again.

“Candy?” He held his arm out like one of those models on The Price is Right.

She laughed out loud.

Bunny cocked his head and smiled. She sure was pretty for an old broad. He liked when she laughed like that. He made a mental note to bump the chocolate rabbit in her Easter basket up a couple of ounces. He didn’t care if her old man noticed. He hoped he did.

“I gotta go,” she told him.

“Hey, I thought you might like to stay and help me assemble a couple million baskets of candy today,” Bunny suggested.

Mrs Claus looked at him like he was insane.

“Like I don’t get enough of that kind of crap at home!”

Bunny walked to her and pulled her into a hug.

“I was just kidding,” he whispered before he kissed her one more time.

Even though he kinda wasn’t.

The two of them wedged their ways to the front door. Before she left, he handed her one of those plastic toys that have a suction cup on the bottom that you stick on the floor and press down so it pops up into the air after a second or two. The character on top of it was in the shape of a bunny.

She took it and smiled at him then walked to her snappy red Mazda Miata parked out front.

And Bunny shut his door, turned on his big bunny heel, and promptly tripped over a bushel of Cadbury eggs in his hallway trying to make his way back to the kitchen to finish his Spam.

Hi hi. Happy Saturday and all that happy horse shit, dear reader friends.

I’m coming off a two week stint where our dog experienced breakthrough seizures and medication-induced pancreatitis so unpleasant we thought about putting her down AND we helped our daughter move into her new apartment.

Our dog Penny has stabilized once again and is back to being her playful crazy pig-like self (what a relief!!)  and our daughter is all situated and happy as a clam in her adorable new home (sweet!)

So even though the past few weeks have been stressful beyond measure, I decided to add to the fun and finally go off my antidepressant.

Why not? Let’s just go for broke and see what happens is what I figured.

I started taking antidepressants in 2017 when I had pelvic floor dysfunction and I truly believed I would never be well again. I tried all kinds of the drugs and enjoyed the weird side effects of each and finally I landed on Prozac which I was able to tolerate. The medicine helped, I am not going to lie. When I bumped up to the 20 mg a day, I found myself no longer bothered by much life threw at me. It was a complete change for someone who had been previously bothered by lots. I never knew I was so…emotional?

Is that a bad thing, really?

Apparently it can be, I guess. Anyway, Prozac leveled me out for months. It also robbed me of feeling any emotion–happy, sad, angry, you name it. It was all gone.

I didn’t like that part. In general, I enjoy the ability to feel things–especially happiness or excitement.

You know what else about taking Prozac sucks for me? I gained weight. Like, 30-lbs-in-one-year weight. This, for an always healthy normal weight person like myself, was depressing in itself. I was the heaviest I’ve ever been in my whole life a few weeks ago at my doctor check up to renew the prescription for my antidepressant. I told my doctor about my concerns and we lowered my dose to 10 mg a day.

That lasted a few weeks. I felt my emotions kinda coming back.

Last Tuesday, I thought–fuck this. I called my doc and asked how to stop it altogether. Which I did starting right after I called. She said it was perfectly all right to just stop taking it and that I might feel a little edgy but it would be okay.

I kid you not–I’ve lost 6 pounds in the span of 2 weeks (I started working out again too, so there’s that) and my gut is finally going away. My husband told me last night–I can tell a difference.

I can too. And it is one big ass relief!

As for my brain, I can feel it shifting, if that makes any sense. It’s odd, but also kind of interesting. I’m tired too. And hot a lot of the time. But I am not concerned about these things in the least. I know it will all pass and I’ll get through it.

You know why?

Because I beat fucking scary pelvic floor pain and if I can do that, I can do ANYTHING.

Not a whole lot scares me anymore. And it’s not due to the consumption of pills. So here I go again on my own. (Whitesnake. Not the hottest band in the world, but still good)

Pill free.

I’ll let you know how this turns out.

Here’s my other news story I want to share with you today.

Tonight my husband and are going to see “The hottest band in the world”–KISS. And I am basically living for it!

I first fell in love with KISS when I was a little 10-year-old girl at the shopping mall with my mom and sister waiting in line to go see a movie. Probably something like Benji (ever see those movies? They will fuck up your mind. Jesus, the tears I shed over that little dog!)

As I waited in line, I eyeballed the record store across the mall and in the doorway I spied a new record album cover that had a picture on it that beckoned me. I asked mom if I could go look at it and she let me.

This is the pic:

genie

 

I was like–WHO in the hell is this!? I was simultaneously horrified and enthralled. I was kinda scared of this guy, but I also wanted to know more. And I was definitely down for listening to the tunes!

I got that record–KISS Alive II–not long after and what an experience it was for a kid like me. Up until then, I had been listening to pop music and storybook records. Alice in Wonderland. Wizard of Oz. Osmond Brothers. Bay City Rollers. I was a huge Monkees fan. (Davy was my very first big ol crush).

KISS was not like any of that stuff. They were the first rock and roll band I really liked.

They were fucking cool.

I felt grown up picking them to listen to.

I remember my older sister accusing me of not really liking them. Like hell I didn’t!

I also remember my dad buying me a magazine with KISS pics in it when he went to get a Pittsburgh Press paper for himself at a local bookstore. The cover had Gene sticking his tongue inside a daffodil flower. I was kinda like–ew, gross. Some of the pictures inside the mag were rather risqué as well. I don’t believe Bernie had any idea what he had purchased for me. But I loved it nonetheless.

I had this poster on the door of the room I shared with my little sister. I was slightly disturbed by the blood on Peter Criss’s head. Poor kitty man. And look at Gene. Damn, he was always so scary.

poster

I continued to love KISS all through my high school years. My first boyfriend, who ended up being a total nut-job and abusive (another story I probably won’t tell), was a big fan. We used to listen to them all of the time. I remember when the album “The Elder” came out. A lot of people made fun of it, but I thought it was excellent. You know what song totally still rules to this day?

This one–

Now, besides this evening, I have only seen KISS one other time live. This was during the Lick It Up tour 4000 years ago. I remember being there with my friends from high school. Sure, the guys had taken off all their make up. (WHY? remember that epic moment on MTV?! I do!)

We had so much fun at that show. The moron I dated before and had broken up with was there, a few rows behind us, acting like a damn fool hanging and swinging on the rail. I was like–what the ever-loving fuck, you idiot.

God, I hope I don’t see his face tonight. He still freaks me out to this day.

Over the years I have become a wife–the awesome guy I married has always loved KISS, too. This is a plus in my book, of course. And I became a mom. I’ven been too busy to spend money and time going to see KISS concerts.

As luck would have it, the “End of the Road” tour is in town.

And now that we’re older and a little better off and our kids are all grown up, tonight my husband and I have a date!

My husband–AKA the cutest guitar player I’ve ever known–has never seen KISS live.

That’s gonna change 🙂

I think I’ll even paint my face for the occasion.

My favorite KISS guy has always been Paul Stanley, so guess whose face I’ll try to duplicate. I mean, if I muster up the bravery to actually go through with it.

What kind of 50+ woman paints her face to go see KISS???

Me?

me paul

10 year old me would be so proud.

Talk to you guys again soon.

In the meantime don’t forget to

Rock and Roll All Nite and Party Every Day!

xo 🙂

Jesus polished off his jelly doughnut and took a swig of Celtic Grog to wash it down.
His taste buds tingling, he couldn’t help sinking back down into the cozy comfort of his king-sized bed.
Deciding that maybe he’d go back to sleep for a smidge, he picked up his phone and clicked the Facebook app to check up on the morning’s posts before he did.
He scrolled through the typical stuff:
Mary, his mom, posting private messages for him on her page because she still had no concept how to use messenger and she probably never would…
Jesus clicked the heart button anyway.
Noah posting pictures of his cats AGAIN…
Jesus clicked the heart button.
Satan’s 50+ pictures of himself shredding on his guitar last weekend at some suburban bar…
Again, Jesus clicked the heart button.
And then, the Methodist church bragging that they had bolstered their bans on same-sex marriage and allowing the LGBT community to become pastors.
Jesus read that one again. Then he read some comments from people praising the decisions.
“Those people are so stupid,” he thought to himself.
He sat up and took another sip of coffee and reached for a Kool and his lighter.
Blowing the first inhalation out and feeling his muscles relax a little, he opened his messenger and tapped his dad’s profile pic.
“I see the Methodists are taking a giant leap towards destroying their church for good,” he typed. “I know it’s all part of your Master Plan for the human race, but damn if it isn’t tough to watch unfold sometimes.”
He hit send.
Taking another drag of his smoke, he kept scrolling to try and cleanse his mind a little.
“Oh god yes,” he thought to himself as he came upon the clip of Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga singing Shallow at the Academy Awards. He, like everybody else not living under a rock, had already watched this 1000 times, but it was so delicious. He loved it. And holy hell, that smoking hot ending when Jack and Ally cuddle on the piano bench and stare into each other’s eyes?
Jesus couldn’t help himself.
He hit the heart button once again.
He knew, just like all good people do, that hitting the heart button as often as you can

is always the better choice.

facebook_love_button

My husband and I found ourselves at Home Depot today at 6:45 am. Bill armed himself with the materials to rewire our antique mall lamp. We had the stuff home and started the coffee brewing by 7:15.

He had some difficulty running the new wires through the lamp, but he threaded the lamp wire with a long piece of wire and persevered and got ‘er done. Once that was fixed, he finished the rest of the set-up. Turns out there are two sockets and one of them just doesn’t work. No matter, though. New lightbulb installed, shade dusted off, lamp plugged in, switch flipped on and

TA-DAH!

 

Look at that thing, will you?

I’m in love, I tell ya. She is absolutely perfect.

I love my husband for doing all these projects for our home. I love him for the guy he is too, of course. But you know what I mean.

I believe weatherman Brick Tamblan from Anchorman sums up my feelings about this particular moment in my life with an eloquent quote from that epic movie.

(You movie aficionados know it’s coming)

😊

Good January morning, my friends. How is everyone doing? Well and happy, I hope 😊

I guess quite a few of us are in for a winter wallop this weekend. My husband and I are supposed to go to our future daughter-in-law’s roller skating birthday party Sunday and I’m really looking forward to it.

I haven’t been on a pair of skates since my daughter and I used to frequent the homeschoolers skating days. That was like 15 years ago. I’ve always loved roller skating. I used to be quite the little roller boogie princess back in the 1970s. I’d put on my blue athletic shoe skates…

THESE! Exactly like I had! Those skates were SO COOL.

skates

and I’d go down to the basement, crank a K-Tel record and go for it in that confined concrete-floored space. I could go forward, backward, with one leg out, and spin around and around and around. I wasn’t an amazing ice skater, but buddy, I could roller skate.

I hope I still can–the skating forward part (never mind the rest!)–without busting my ass. Falling down after age 50 is not very amusing and I try to not do it. Anyway, I hope the ice and snow don’t screw the party up for us. I love winter–I really do, but like everyone else who lives where it sometimes snows, there are days I still want to get out there and go do stuff.

I even have plans to wear my sequined beret as I glide around the rink. I think I’ll mostly be getting down to tunes from my kids’ younger days (aka the 1990s), but in my heart, I’ll be back and doing my thing circa winter 1978.

I’m cranking the tunes in my room as I type this and I feel ancient and like a kid at the same time.

Interesting combination.

Keep your fingers crossed we make it out to celebrate, okay? I’ll post pics of the magic and merriment come next Monday 🙂

Let’s say the weather goes ahead and fucks everything up and we’re stuck at home. Over the past couple of weeks my husband and I have been updating our house a little. Mostly the kitchen. A previously gray wall is now a pink color called “Rose Hue” and the light fixtures that were original to the house have been replaced with crystal chandeliers.

I now have not one, not two, but count ’em–three chandeliers in my kitchen. And no, it’s not a necessarily big kitchen, but you guys, I am telling you–it totally works.

Something you need to know about me: I love me some crystal chandeliers. And various other light fixtures as you’re about to find out.

So we’re changing the vibe in the house from “post-childrearing chaos downshift to neutral minimalism” to the “hippies live here” theme I’ve dreamed of ever since I was a young girl and I drooled over the home in the movie Endless Love starring Brooke Shields.

I found this little article about the house when I Googled it.

https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&source=web&cd=&ved=2ahUKEwjKuLHN0vjfAhWW0YMKHWLfCt4QzPwBegQIARAC&url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.realtor.com%2Fnews%2Funique-homes%2Fendless-love-long-island-mansion%2F&psig=AOvVaw1qezE-ICpbdKklWmBdrjK6&ust=1547946068007178

1.7 million dollars. No wonder I like it.

I told our kids the other night about my Endless Love/Brooke Shields house inspiration and my husband goes:

Honey, they don’t know Brooke Shields.

I asked them if they did. They were like–well, kinda?

Oh god, I am such an old woman. I automatically assume everyone knows the trivia of my youngers days. But hey, Brooke is older than I am (just a little) and she and I are still kicking ass, right?

They don’t know Brooke Shields. That is kinda sad, isn’t it?

Jade Butterfield. So damn pretty. Just like her house.

jade

Anyway. Whatever.

A few days ago I was poking around our favorite antique mall and I came across a lamp exactly like one I have been dreaming of for awhile and in search of for not a horrible price. BOOM. There is was, right in front of me! I didn’t purchase it because I wasn’t sure Bill would like it, and I wasn’t sure if I should spend the money on it. I left it at the shop and it instantly bothered me knowing damn well that most times if you see something at the antiquery that you want, you better snatch it up or someone else will before you eventually go back to get it.

I told Bill yesterday I was going to go buy it. I had to. My brain wouldn’t let it go because I knew that lamp would be perfect for the rest of our days in our family room. I went to the mall, picked up the lamp and that caught the attention of another shopper who admired it with me. That’s when I noticed the cord and plug. What ripped up messes they are.

Long story short, my husband and I went back to the mall to purchase it last night. That beauty wouldn’t have lasted through this weekend. I know this for a fact.

All this to say, this weekend Bill will be learning how to rewire a lamp.

Here she is, standing in the very spot I found her. I snapped her pic hoping she would be ours.

 

Keep your fingers crossed she gets up and running. You better believe I’ll post pictures of that come Monday too!

I’m off for now. Got a call from my daughter and we’re off to lunch together. That’ll be a nice way to kick off the weekend.

I’ll leave you with this picture I took this morning of the front door to our home. I made the wreath with little lights and, what else, blue crystals from a necklace I repurposed. The wreath symbolizes the stark beauty of winter and the glittering promise of the return of the light come February 2nd this year, otherwise known as the pagan festival of Imbolc.

Pretty, huh.

Crystals and lights and colors and coziness and contendedness and the hope that there shall be some roller discoing.

Sounds like a good time, doesn’t it?

Happy Weekend, folks! ❤

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Last year, on yet another one of those days when I didn’t want to get up and function but also really wanted to get up and function, I forced myself to get up and GO. My husband wanted to take me out anywhere, just to get out of the house. I decided–fuck it, I’m going.

We ended up heading into downtown Columbus to look for a snake ring.

I had recently had a dream where a 3 headed snake was snapping at people, trying to keep them away from me. Appropriate dream for the time. Part of my healing from pelvic pain resulted in taking myself off the “I’ll do anything to help you” list for literally anyone who ever asked. Hell, I was so programmed to be a people pleaser that I frequently invented ways to go out of my way to make everyone else’s lives brighter.

Anyway, the snake came to symbolize to me a way of remembering to say “BACK THE HELL UP FROM ME”.

So, Bill and I looked for a snake in a few vintage shops. Saw a couple of things, and didn’t really care for any of them.

(More on my snake soon…his story doesn’t end there)

As we poked around an antique shop, my husband called me over to look inside a case and pointed out a silver crescent moon pendant necklace to me. He asked me if I liked it. I said I did and it was pretty, but it wasn’t what I was looking for. So we moved on.

About one second later, Bill turned and went back to the case. He said:

This looks like something you would wear. I’m going to get it for you.

He had the dude working the counter take it out and hold it for us and that necklace turned out to be the only thing we bought that day. I had to go home after we finished perusing that shop–my body was starting to hurt.

Still, there are three victories in this story:

1. I got out of the house for a change of scenery.

2. The moon necklace Bill bought me that day is pretty much my favorite piece of jewelry. I never, ever take it off. I get bunches of compliments on it.

and

3. My husband is a sweetheart. He loves me to the moon and back.

The feeling is mutual.

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