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Spring has sprung here in Southwestern Virginia!! Above is a photo of our daffodils, which have been in bloom for a while and are now beginning to fade, along with one of our tulips, which are just beginning to come in.  This tulip is one that was originally planted by my great-grandmother, Pom.  Over the years we've moved them, nutured and nourished them so that they've once again started sporting nice blooms.  I couldn't be more proud!

Spring brings new things and the biggest one is that we're on Facebook now.  You can like us on there by clicking here: www.facebook.com/TheBlueNymph.  I'll be updating that page much more frequently than I do here, so if you want to follow along, I encourage you to do so there.

Hope y'all are all having a wonderful Spring!

An experience in spaying ..

Life With Dogs:

Our bulldogs Layla and Cupcake were spayed yesterday.

Layla, on happier days

As usual, Layla complained the ENTIRE way to the vet.  "I don't like car rides!" "Cupcake is the one in heat, why am I being punished too??" "The Jeep is too cold!" "I want to go home!" "This isn't fair!!" and so on. She politely threw up on the ride up to Christiansburg (I only know this from seeing the crate later on).

Foster, our Mastiff, spent the day wandering around looking for them. If you've never seen a curious Mastiff it is quite a site. Demanding, repeatedly, to check each side of the back door, despite the cold temperatures and rain. Finally he went to sleep on the couch - his worry wore him out.

As you can see, the stress took a toll.  It is so hard being so caring.

We were called to pick them up in Christiansburg yesterday rather than back in Salem this morning because of them being bulldogs (more chances of problems). So, the kids and I met Mom and Barry (aka Grandma & Grandpa) up there. Mom watched the kids while Barry helped me load the crates and dogs back up for the ride home.

When they brought out Cupcake they were carrying her. Apparently she thought she couldn't walk. She also thought she couldn't walk the other night here at home when she had to wear underwear. Apparently her back legs only work under the best of circumstances, in all other cases, she MUST be carried.

It is also hard being a little princess.  This is her "perch" on the couch.

Layla, once we got back to Salem & despite the anesthesia, once again began letting us know how much she resented the general mistreatment she was experiencing.  "That was awful!" "When will we be home??"  "Does Daddy know you let them do this to me?" "I want to go home!"
We EVENTUALLY (so Layla said) made it back home.  Justin took off a minute or two early so that he could almost meet us there.  You can tell he was worried sick.  Layla was the first to be taken out of the car, per her demands and since Cupcake still didn't think her legs worked anyway.

I walked her into the front yard while Justin took her crate inside.  Layla didn't need to pee so we walked to the front porch.  Now, there is A step.  Just a little step up.  We weren't sure if she could do this though given the circumstances.  She put her front paws on the porch and then hesitated.  ... And then she sat down on the front walk.  .... And then she rolled over onto her side .... into the lavender bush.  ... Where she stayed until, on her side, until Justin picked her up and carried her into her crate. 
She spent the rest of the evening pretty much sound asleep, though every now and then she would let us know she was still alive by giving us a gripe or two about her mistreatment.  Even a sedated bulldog can still complain, just groggily.

Cupcake we carried, because you know her legs don't work, inside and into her crate.  It is amazing how bulldogs can demand, and get, the literal Royal Treatment. 
She did fine the rest of the evening, though she did get up to let us know she needed to go out a couple of times.  OF COURSE, she was carried to and from.  Her butt and paws wiped (not at the same time), before being put back into her crate.  Mountain View Humane Society had given both girls a soft towel for their crates for the trip home, just in case.  Apparently our gals convinced even them they were Royals. 

The rest of the night was pretty uneventful.  Layla threw up again later when her pain pill finally hit her stomach (thankfully late enough afterwards that she didn't throw it up).  She's been sick again this morning, but, being Royalty she DOES have a sensitive stomach. 

Cupcake decided she really liked her new towel in her crate.  She smooshed it up against the crate door.  Then, this morning, she began nibbling on the tag.  I called to her and she quickly looked up and around, certain that it wasn't her who was being scolded.  She, of course, hadn't been doing anything.  ... right ...

Foster on the other hand has had the hardest time adjusting.  He's been very upset that the girls are being carried and he isn't. After-all, even though he weighs a good 150lbs now he still is certain that he is no more than the size of a bulldog.  And if they can be carried then he most certainly should be as well.  He's gone to the back door several times, out onto the frozen porch, only to look back at me with eyes that say "Well, are you going to carry me down these steps or not?"  ... not.
So, since he's had to endure such stress and trauma, and since he's not one to be out-done by any other dog, he's decided his stomach is now upset too.  He got given a gas pill and some rice in his food, which he didn't eat.  He's now back on the couch.  It is all that darn stress ...

Halloween Fun

Our Halloween 2011 pumpkins.  If you haven't already figured it out, they're characters from The Nightmare Before Christmas.  L-R: Zero (the dog), Jack Skellington, and Oogey Boogey.  Justin and the kids did these and I have to say, this is one of my favorite years.  Every year we carve several pumpkins.  We have people who remember that ours tend to be elaborate and visit just to see what we've carved.  This year was no exception.

Halloween on our street is a big deal.  Every year we get over 200 kids.  Most of the houses decorate for Halloween, and there are simply kids galore.  It is such a busy event that instead of shutting the door between kids, we rearrange the front porch furniture and hang out there.  We adults get dressed up as well, of course.  This year I was a witch, Justin was a priest, Shannon was a scary hooded guy, and Tristan was a skeleton.  Justin's brother Matt came over and we dressed him up as a zombie, make up and all.  (Really, I think I should start a Halloween Make-up business!!)

Along with the three pumpkins we had an "eyeball tree," the door to the house decorated with lights & usually open, the inside of the house decorated, and pumpkin & skull candles lit on the front porch.  Oh yes, there was the scary music that played as well, of course.  We always invite friends and family over for a Halloween party on Halloween, and so, as usual, we had a couple of kids who thought that our house was set-up as a Haunted House given the decor and the people coming and going. 

While the guys (and Justin's Mom & sister) took the kids trick-or-treating I assumed my role to hand out candy.  I had a goblet that I was drinking from, and took delight in playing up the role.  Most of the kids were very well behaved this year.  A couple of kids I saw darting across the road, not a wise idea on our road, and darting through people's yards, ignoring any landscaping that was there.  When they got to our house I was in full witchy mode.  I slowly took a sip from skeleton goblet, setting it down on the edge of my chair.  I turned my gaze (with my heavily made-up eyes) to them just as slowly and then fixed my gaze on them.  As I handed them their candy I had my voice eerily-pitched and scolded them gently, creepy, and with my gaze not leaving their eyes for darting into the road and for running through yards.  I warned them that they could get hurt.  I got two nervously sincere "yes ma'am"s from them.  I think the point was made.

So, a little after eight we got the kids in bed and took the party inside.  I left the lights outside on and even went back and relit the pumpkins when I realized kids were still coming by.  This is where it starts to get fun.

Normally I don't care so much for older kids, and I will readily refuse candy to those who don't dress up.  Also, we always put the dogs up in the crates during Halloween.  With the door being open so much it would be easy for them to get out. Also, and our main reason, Halloween can be a scary time to be a dog.  People in scary costumes make it hard to tell friend from foe and can scare a dog.  Any dog with an instinct to protect could easily assume there was cause to.  So, to be safe, our dogs stay up.  However, once we shut the door we let the dogs loose.

Older kids kept coming by, knocking on the door.  The dogs would go nuts.  And, though all dogs' barks are impressive and can be scary, Foster does have a .. well .. massive Mastiff bark. 

At first I would try to block the dogs as I went to the door, but with one group Layla, our 1 year old Bulldog, slipped by me and out onto the porch.  I shut the door behind me and went to get her.  She wasn't scared, she was curious as usual and simply walked around the kids.  No growling, nothing.  The kids were older middle-school or high-school age kids (hard to tell), and one boy simply FREAKED OUT.  It was hysterical.  He started jumping back when he realized she was a bulldog.  "She's a bulldog" he yelled, "those things will kill you!!!" 

I couldn't resist.

"Oh, no" I replied calmly and reassuringly, "bulldogs won't kill you. Mastiffs will kill you."  And with that I opened the door, shoved Layla in, and let Foster take a step or two out. "See?" I said. 

The kid tripped over himself running back to the sidewalk, while his friends, who initially jumped back as well, roared with laughter. 
Foster never growled, never showed any aggression, just took a couple curious steps through the doorway, with me holding his collar. 


BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!

To the doctor we go again..

First off, the reason that they're haven't been any blogs posted from me in a while: blogspot hates me.  It's as simple as that.  Truly.  It has nothing to do with the strange fact that my son is humming the JAWS theme (though he's never seen the movie) in his room as I try to focus and type.  It has nothing to do with me going crazy at all, no it doesn't and I don't like your implications.  Blogspot simply hates me.  I type out a great blog, I go to hit publish, the whole thing freezes up and then the computer starts giggling this insane giggle that only Stephen King could dream up, and it gets up and runs away.  And, I'm left sitting there all innocent without a blog post anymore.  So, there.  Now you know.  I blog now at great risk to my own health and warfare (no, not a typo).  You're welcome.  I love you.

So, do you remember Shannon's 5 Year Doctor check up visit?  No?  Why not?  I kinda do!  Ok, I'll forgive you.  You can click on that snazzy link and it'll take you to the blog post about it. 

Tristan had his 5 Year Doctor check up visit yesterday.  Here is how my day went:

Wake up and decide this isn't one of my days.  And, since I have nowhere to be, I'm allowed to have a lazy bummy day, so I don't take a shower.

Remember at 11am that we have an appt at noon. Tristan, who has been congested for a few days (thank you Allergy Gods) has been given cough/cold syrup.


Remember that 2 years ago, at Shannon's 5 year check up, he barfed EVERYWHERE. Try not to mention that memory to the kids.

Put on a nicer shirt and attempt to do something with my hair.  Ok - so here's a fun tidbit for you: a lot of people think that having dreads means you completely neglect your hair.  Like you forget it's there all together.  This couldn't be further from the truth, at least for me.  And, if you haven't been to take your kids to the doctor's lately, you are missing out on the well-known, absolute fact that you MUST look presentable because, no matter how sick your child is or isn't, they WILL judge you.  It's a bunch of women ... DUH! 

My dreads and I argue some, but they finally agree to go up in some form of a bun.  The Hokie colored ones though decide they're going to really stand out in weird ways today.  Fine.  Just fine.

Get kids into the car.  Attempt to get self into the car.  Thanks to a long upper-body and short arms, I only have 3 fingers' width of room between the top of my head and the top of the car when my hair is down.  If my hair is up, I wind up driving all GANGSTA style, slung off to the side trying to fit in the car.  -- How in the world did women with beehives EVER drive anywhere????  I need a carriage and someone to drive me around. 

Get there early, wait till ...shortly after 12 to be seen - go figure.

They do urine sample & finger prick blood test first. Tristan is fine. He doesn't get upset till he feels (I'm guessing) that first heartbeat in his finger. (You know what I'm talking about) - At that point he has an upset, eyes welling "uh-oh" reaction.

Nurse calls us back into the room so we don't have to wait. She takes Tristan off to do the eye & hearing exam.

She returns with Tristan who is COVERED in vomit. I mean, it was even on the back of his pants. Since I didn't see it happen, all I can imagine is the Excorsist. Nurse seems stunned and unsure of what to do. She hands me a gown and I work on stripping him down.

Meantime, I call my mother to please run by my house, grab him a change of clothes and GET HERE NOW!

He announces he needs to go to the bathroom. While on toilet he starts puking again, then it shoots out the other end. (Sorry - TMI, I know). I try to clean up as best I can.

Get him cleaned up, washed off, and etc. Get gown back on. He is clammy and his face is literally green.

Nurse keeps trying to say he has a stomach bug. I keep trying to tell her that his older brother had a very similar reaction and that their father doesn't do very well at the sight of blood either.

I remind Beazley of Justin's fainting spell during a very similar check-up when I get the chance.

Mom arrives. All seems ok. Then Shannon announces HE has to go to the bathroom, and it's obvious HE is starting to cry.

Beazley looks at me, wide-eyed, in a "WTH?" wonder.

I go to the bathroom with Shannon. Have to get him to admit to being upset and crying. He says that he doesn't like getting shots. I remind him that HE isn't getting any shots today. He says he doesn't like Tristan getting shots. I leave him to finish.

While he's still in the bathroom we agree that my mother will go ahead and leave, taking Shannon with her. This is good because by the time Shannon gets back he pretty much hollers that he wants to leave NOW. - they leave.

Now there is the usual examination part.  I win the "WORST MOTHER EVER" award for not only all that has happened but also because Tristan is wearing underwear that is oddly stained all over (of course, right?), and socks that aren't of equal shades of whiteness - one is bright white the other is slightly pink. 

Tristan gets his 3 shots. At doctor's "orders" we lay him down for it and keep him down. Obviously, he cries about the shots *mega duh*

After a good long while I'm able to get him dressed. He keeps trying to kinda hyperventilate.

Tristan has been known to, when he's VERY upset, quit breathing kinda, go blue, and pass out. So ... this is my current fear.

We walk out to the car, I think the rain and cool air will do him good but he seems to be getting weaker. I finally wind up carrying him to the car.

I get him in the car. I attempt to get myself into the car. Remember what I said above about the dreads.  It's like a friggin' cartoon episode, me trying to get into the car with my big hair and little arms.  And it's raining.

We're driving down Main St., towards my mother's house, in the rain, and I glance to the back seat. Tristan is slumped over. I try to not go into full panic mode.

Turns out he was just asleep. Get all of us home. Everyone goes down for naps. I have two stories due. Two I, of course, hadn't written yet. I send my editor a letter asking just how late I can get them in. My nerves are shot.

Who the hell hid my valium today?

Why is my hair so big?

How is it fair that they inherit this reaction from Justin but I end up being the one to get to deal with puke and nurses who seem to be amazed that kids may puke at the doctors' office and capable of offering little other than a gown, a trash bag (at my request, they didn't think of that on their own) for his puke covered clothes, and then they run around spraying things with Febreeze???

Tristan sleeps for a while, or at least rests for a long while. This is good. No more vomiting, no passing out.

I get my articles written.

I find my valium.

I forget about my big hair since the ceilings here are even taller.

I make a good healthy, nourishing dinner. Tristan has a fit because he'd rather have a sandwich. We convince him to break up pretzels in the soup/pasta dinner. No (adult) tempers are lost.

I debate having one more kid just to make sure that Justin has to take said prospective kid to their 5 year check up.

Of course, Murphy's Law, that prospective kid would be fine.

I hate that prospective kid. Damn him/her.

I make Justin stay on bulldog butt wiping duty. This doesn't make me feel much better, but it's better than nothing.

The one bulldog who wasn't given gas-x pills proceeds to sit there, butt near my face, and fart all night.

Damn Murphy's Law.
 
Later I ponder if I can squeeze the bulldogs and make them fart in Justin's face. It would make a nice weapon and I feel like he deserves some suffering.


Cartoon-esque revenge theories are being hatched in my mind. I also kinda want to bitch-slap the nurses. Or at least do a SNL "REALLY?!?!?" clip about them. I mean, REALLY!?!?!?!, you're shocked and unprepared when kids vomit at the doctor's office?!!?!? REALLY!?!?!??! Who could ever imagine and forsee such events!!! REALLY!?!?!?
 
 
So .... now you know why we try to avoid trips to the doctor's office as much as try to avoid ... umm .. the plague?

Good Morning

These photos were taken with my cell phone, thereby a little fuzzy. But I find when I first wake up in the morning, life is a little fuzzy ... just like the photos. Here is a quick look at some of the beings I wake up to in the morning.

Good Morning from Foster. Our 17 month old, at least 140 pound, English Mastiff. He likes to cuddle. He isn't allowed on the bed. Luckily for him, his back legs are on the floor. Our bed is queen size and he, as you can see, can reach nearly fully across it. With his hind legs still on the floor.


See how tired he is? He has sleepy-goop still in his eye. The poor thing. It's tough being a Mastiff who thinks he's a carry-along 2lb dog. In case you're wondering what his head is resting on ... that's Justin's leg under the blanket.

Then there is Layla, our little 9 month old English Bulldog. For many months now, under our bed has been her refuge. When it is hot out, she hides under the bed. When Foster is chasing her after they've been playing, she runs into our room and does an impressive dive & slide under the bed, where he can't reach her. When Foster greets us in the morning though .. well, she just isn't as tall and can't command the attention. So .. under the bed she goes.
The sound of her crawling under the bed, her ID tag clanking against the wooden floor and her legs attempting to propel her forward make it sound like she is swimming. So, that's what we call it. We'll look at each other and say "Oh, Layla's gone swimming again." "There Layla goes, swimming under the bed." It isn't a graceful performance out of her to say the least.
However, our little pup is growing as little bullies do. Normally she'd swim under the bed, pop up on my side (closest to the wall) and paw for attention. Now ... poor Layla, she's a bigger bully.

......

Layla gets a little stuck under the bed during her morning swim. .... It probably doesn't help that she does this swim after she's eaten her breakfast, when her belly is nice and full. Apparently she never bothered to read the memo about not swimming after you eat.

As you can tell here, Foster is just SHOCKED that Layla is stuck, once again, under the bed. He's simply shocked.
Actually, he's likely more concerned and offended. When Layla gets stuck she doesn't give up on her swim. She reaches her paws out, hoping to make it through. Which usually ends up with her pulling the nearby plug out of the wall. That turns off the tv (which isn't on in the morning anyway), the clock (which is on and will have to be reset, but which Foster doesn't care about), and ... worst of all, the fans. THIS is VERY offensive to Foster. One of the perks of being able to lay across the bed like he does is, aside from the morning cuddle, the breeze from both of the fans.
So ... in this photo Foster is shocked that Layla is stuck ... again. And concerned that this will wind up in his breeze being disrupted. Which just completely ruins the beauty of morning.

Here's wishing you all a happy holiday weekend. However you spend it. However you wake up, or whomever/whatever you wake up to.

Quit yer bitching, be prepared, & acknowledge Mother Nature

Tis that time of year again: Hurricane Season. Just like you can count on stores to start Christmas displays practically at the same time as they put out Halloween displays, you can count on media to make certain that the impending hurricane will be an end of the world scenario.

Now, before I get too far into this post let me say that I feel for those who suffer. I don't want anyone to lose their lives, especially those who are at the mercy of others' (children, elderly, disabled, sick, etc) to care for them. I don't want to see animals suffering either. So .. there you go, I am not the most evil monster out there.

But, let's get back to the topic. Check out this link (for some reason it's not letting me embed it, sorry): http://youtu.be/75f-YUntYRI. It's footage from Virginia Beach area. A news reporter is doing his thing with people driving around behind him, around him, and then lots more people running by. One guy even drops his shorts and flashes the camera as he's doing this. It is funny. It is also, more reason why I have little sympathy.

Let's make it as clear as we can, ok? If you live at, or below, sea level, then you live in an area where you're likely to get flooded out. If you live near the beach, especially when there is a GOOD history of annual hurricanes you are, at some point, going to likely experience one.

If you live in the mountains, where it snows, guess what ... there is a chance that at some point during the Winter you might get snowed in. Or there might be lots of snow and ice.

Live on or near a fault line?? Guess what you can expect. That's right, earthquakes. Living out in the Midwest, in an area known as 'Tornado Valley'??? Hmmm ... can we figure out what you might see one day?

Have some friggin' respect for Mother Nature folks. Pay attention to where you live. Build accordingly, if you're going to build. That's one of the things I find a little laughable about the new "passivhaus" movement (which I can't say without a bad Arnold-esque accent). For as long as there have been humans around, until very recently, societies built their homes according to where they lived and what that area was like. It's the enormous "DUH!!" ~ to which I can't add much more.

Also, wherever you chose to live, be prepared for what very well may happen. I mean, these aren't exactly the biggest surprises in the world now are they?? Again, this is one reason why homes used to be built with exterior shutters that could actually shut (you know, cover the window) and be locked. Not little bitty decorative ones screwed on either side of the window as they are now.

Know what you're going to do, just in case. Quit relying on others to take care of you and make everything as happy-perfect-fairytale as you think it should be.

And .... if you're going to go out in bad weather. If you're going to go take your boat out in the water during a hurricane. Or if you think it is wise to go out in snowstorms, tornadoes, and etc. Well, you're likely an idiot and I won't be that sad when you die or get hurt. It's Darwinism in action.

Stella Updates

Stella today

Stella before?? This is a photo I found in a book on VW buses. The interior is identical to Stella's, though obviously the color is different. I can't tell if she faded a LOT or if she was just originally 'Guinea blue' rather than 'Medium Blue' (as is listed in the book as the blue color option for campers and is in the photo above). Today she looks more Guinea than Medium though, and I'm guessing it's unlikely that she faded THAT much.

She's still down at the shop though. Apparently she won't pass inspection with the current, cracked windshield. Whoever last replaced the windshield didn't put it in correctly, or even in all the way it seems, and it cracked and for some reason that I simply can not begin to understand, they left it like that. So ... a new windshield is on order out of Norfolk. It should be here by the middle of next week, and hopefully we can have her home by then. She also needed new rear brake lights, but those have already been put in.

I've also been on the hunt for other parts she needs that are no longer available on the market. A new dash cluster since the odometer and fuel gauge don't work (kinda something that we really need working!) is the main thing. I found a guy down in Georgia, or rather he found me. He has an '82 Vanagon, non-camper, that he's selling off as parts. I have to admit to being nervous about dealing with things online that I can't physically see, but I also don't see where I have much of an alternative. I've asked him to send me photos of parts (he also has a grill which she needs, along with other items). He doesn't have a digital camera so he said he'll pick up a disposable one, take the photos and mail them to me. Something about this makes me feel guilty, but I suppose I'll let him do it.

We've also ordered our own copy of the 'Idiot Book' (as it is lovingly called). We were able to find a newer edition, used (!! yay !!) for a really good deal thanks to Amazon.com.

And, finally, we ordered a new rug for her. The folks we bought her from had put in an oriental-esque throw rug which looked really cool. I wouldn't have thought to do that I don't think. Then I happened to stumble across a crocheted rag-rug that was made using upcycled tie-dye sheets. Lots of yellows, pale blues, pinks and more. I love it. I can't wait to see it in there.