Health and Happiness by The Wallflowers

Some days this can just say it all:

Maybe it's not

That I don't care anymore
Maybe I just never did
You can't say
That I have ever lied
Because I keep the truth well hid
Tell me what's wrong
Is something wrong?
You can't be sad
When something you have never had
Suddenly feels gone

I wish you health
I wish you happiness
But absolutely nothing else

I'm not here to keep an eye on you
I think you misunderstood
I could make things easy for you
I won't
But I could
Does that make you sad?
Cause' you look sad
You should be glad
For what you've had
And don't feel bad
I could wish less for you

I wish you health
I wish you happiness
But absolutely nothing else

There is no distance here
To get across
There's nothing to grip

Or get a hold
The emptiness you feel
Is nothing at all
Now nobody broke any bones
It could be worse
Yeah it can get worse
You've got your strength
And you have got your health
You should be worried bout'
Somebody else

I wish you health
I wish you happiness
But absolutely nothing else

Stupid commercials and worse things

I hate stupid commercials. Not humorous commercials, mind, you know the ones that are intended to be funny or to make you smile. Those are cool; we need more reasons to smile and some of them are quite clever.

No, I just hate the stupid ones. The ones that are meant to be taken seriously, like all those commercials advertising products that will help you crack an egg better or help you hold the screwdriver correctly -- things the human animal have been doing for centuries, if not millennia, quite well without the help of some gadget that sells for $19.99 (but wait there's more!). The purveyors of all this crap find the most inept folks available to testify to the average person's need for these devices: the grown woman who can't use a strainer to pour the water off the pasta without dropping the entire pot in the sink, or the guy who can't use a regular butter knife to slice through a brick, cause, you know, we all must do that at some point...

Here lately one stupid commercial has gotten my teeth on edge. Its a simple commercial for a web-based service that provides postage over the internet. It sounds like a grand idea and I've no real issue with the commercial itself -- despite it being way louder than the program it accompanies, but all commercials are like that these days. That's why God created the mute button. No, the one fault I find is in the very first part of the commercial where they have some yahoo saying "There's nothing worse than going to the post office."

Sounds innocuous enough, I suppose, and honestly, who among us love the idea of going to the post office except for the very young who find pleasure in big pictures of bright-colored stamps their mothers never buy, but the commercial just grates on my nerves. I mean, seriously, the guy is 40 if he's a day and the worse thing he's ever had to endure is going to the post office? Don't get me wrong, I've been to the post office at least a half dozen times and, yes, it sucks. But what kind of charmed, righteously blessed life do you have that you can say that standing in the queue at the post office is the worst event you can imagine?

I mean, at 40-something, surely this guy's been to at least one funeral. Okay, okay, so I had a grandfather who enjoyed going to funerals and read the obits every morning just to plan his day -- if I'm lyin', I'm dyin', no exaggeration -- but I understand that's an old person thing sometimes, especially when you live in a small town like Waco and kicks are hard to come by, so we'll leave him out of this, thank you.

My point is, I can think of worse things (in no particular order):

• hearing the Simpsons might be cancelled. (DOH!)
• your computer crashing, and actual smoke wafting out the back vent.
• being told your sister's health has deteriorated to end-stage disease and she needs to be on oxygen 24-hours-a-day. And she's barely 10 years old.
• having five minutes to pack fifteen years of your life from your desk because the company you hoped to retire from just declared bankruptcy and the creditors are there to lock the doors.
• finding out your fiance has a secret life and you're 36 and too tired to care anymore.
• finding your dad semi-conscious on the floor with a gash bleeding from his forehead. And he has no memory of how he got there.
• being there for your friend who drives to the hospital every day, hoping that this time she'll be allowed to at least touch her premature baby before they close the unit for the night.
• your much younger co-worker progressively dumping more and more of her work on your desk because she has an in with the boss and she knows you're 50 and desperately need your job and will probably be too scared to say anything.
• watching the towers burn. And the pentagon. And the wreckage of flight 93.
• watching your parents get older. Watching your big brother get older.
• the vet calling to tell you that your dog -- the one that had gotten you through the worst crap of your life so far -- didn't make it. And its your birthday.
• being told your friend has cancer.
• being told your mother has cancer.
• standing at your baby sister's hospital bed, watching her die.
• funerals.

But hey, that's just my life, YMMV and may be far, far worse, God help you. But it kinda puts going to the post office back in perspective, huh? All those tough things in your life you think you'll never get through? You know you've been through worse. And if not, you probably will some day. Just don't wimp out and, for pity's sake, don't whine about it. You don't want to be one of those annoying people you despise for being... well, whiny.

And just for kicks don't be afraid to use the mute button on your TV remote, especially during commercials. Or better yet, use the off button a little more often.

You can thank me later.

Oscar's Interpretation Services open for business

We’ve only had Charlie a couple of months, so although he’s settled in quite well, we still have the occasional misunderstanding. Yesterday evening Charlie began barking at me. I’d just taken them out for their early evening business, so I wasn’t sure what was up, although Charlie was more interested in playing footsie with the neighbor’s cat than getting down to business. He normally only barks when he can’t get Oscar to play with him – but he barks at Oscar about it, not me. I asked him what he wanted – another walk? play?- and never seemed to hit on it. He finally gave up and ran off to get Oscar. They had a brief conference nose to nose then they came over and sat down in front of me. Charlie barked once. I started the list again and when I said "poo" Oscar wagged his tail. Charlie looked over at him and tried to wag the same way, looking at me like “Finally. Duh!” Back out we went again, and sure enough… How sweet that Oscar agreed to be interpreter and how smart Charlie was to ask. I’m going to have to stop calling him a natural blonde…

Angles and Other Stories by Orson Scott Card

An excellent collection of short stories by the prolific and talented Mr. Card. Stories include tales detailing the following:

God becomes complicit with St Nick to make a heaven of hell
Nixon finds forgiveness
The horrific birth of a starship
Juvenile stupidity gets its just reward
A suicide who writes his final note AFTER committing the dread deed
Humanity as virus
The best of wishes (among my favorites)
Parenting aspiring authors
Life and death and death and death in the United Soviet Socialist Republic of America
The angels at the end of the world

Meet Charlie, aka His Dudeness

This is Charlie (formerly Charleston, formerly ???). We got him from the marvelous Homeless Pet Placement League yesterday  via the Petsmart location in Webster. He's a Lhasa Apso mix (probably with some Shih Tzu). A more gentle-hearted, laid back individual you'll never meet. In fact, he spends a good bit of time almost comatose, just collapsing, all fours akimbo, in the floor with a sigh of relief and a gently wiggle of his bushy tail. I call him "His Dudeness." He doesn't like to walk very far, but just lays down when you stop and gets up again when you resume. Verrrry laid back. His Dudeness, indeed.

He loves to be brushed and we even gave him a little grooming (just a little "off the top") and a little trim around the eyes. He loves belly rubs and has already chosen one toy as his own. He's taken to all of us.

He and Oscar (our Shih Tzu) are still adjusting. He's at least three times Oscar's size, but it's mostly fur. He and Oscar had a little dust-up this morning and each grabbed a bite of hair, but no fur flew and they just as quickly stepped back to allow the Alpha pack members (us!) to clear the air. Five minutes later, they were touring the front yard together like old war buddies swapping tall tails (ah...) tales. Charlie has a lot to adjust to: three people, a new house, front and back yards, and another young male dog. Considering how well they are handling it after even one day and night, I think things are going to be just fine in no time. We have a large, very open-barred kennel, and had Charlie sleep in it last night just to ensure him some downtime while we slept. His new pal Oscar slept just outside the door, giving Charlie a little wag of his tail each time we heard him stirring. Incidentally, this photo is not of Charlie and Oscar but Charlie and a toy.

The HPPL are a great organization of caring folks. Charlie came bathed, neutered, dewormed, vaccinated, and micro-chipped. The staff told me a great deal of his history and personality and is was obvious their care for each of their fuzzy charges is genuine. If you need a new furry friend, or just want to help, please visit their website at http://www.hppl.org/. Any number of great dogs and cats will appreciate it.

Squeaky toys and gentle reminders

We've been blessed with a Shih Tzu named Oscar for about two years now. I was bringing him in from his walk early this morning, had gotten us into the studio and was leaning over to unhook the leash from his harness. My ear was near the door into the living room and I distinctly heard Oscar's little fuzzy donut toy squeak three times rapidly. I assumed Mom or Dad was up, had heard us at the door and was encouraging Oscar to come in. 

I opened the door quickly since Oscar was jumping to play with the toy as soon as he heard it. We saw the toy lying where it had been when we left out: in front of the piano, next to his bed, about four feet from the door. The room was still and dark, with no one standing anywhere. Oscar danced in, looking for Mom or Dad, stared at the toy without touching it and ran to the hall. He was disappointed to find their door shut and no lights on. 

He stepped back into the living room, eyeing the toy and then me, then the toy, warily. He's smart enough to know that the thing couldn't squeak itself! I told him it was okay. Maybe Kissie Bear was keeping it company for him while he went on his walk. Kissie is my dear little Maltese who died back in June. The toy had originally been hers, but she had graciously surrendered it to him on his first day with us and it has remained his favorite. 

I think, maybe, Kissie was letting us know she's still thinking about us. Sweet baby. I think of her every day and probably always will. She taught me a lot of precious things I never want to forget.