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Can I keep blaming Old age?

When I was younger, not young, I thought being old was going to be great as I could get discounts on coffee and hotel rooms, blame stuff on my old mind and so on. Now for all intent and purposes this has been just what I thought it would be, a time in my life when I could relax and not have to be so responsible for so much. There was a time I wished to be old to get out from under the pressures that come with day to day life.  This has not happened like I thought, pressure has increased as dogs and kids have come along. But the bad memory thing has kicked in to over drive. I have to admit it did not help re-leave any of the stress but I found some comfort in the ability to forget things and have folks understand I am just old..The fact that I am becoming the butt of all the jokes one has on old folks never entered into my vision of getting old.
I bought a kindle so I can listen to books while I drive. I miss reading just no time so I though my hours of time in the car taking dogs one place or another I could use listening to books. The kids showed me how to use the kindle to check e-mails and such so it sits next to the couch and when I get home and taking a little break before jumping into the next part of my day, I use it to check my social media, e-mails etc.
I have not spent much time on the computer down stairs as of late so I have gotten myself use to using the old fingers on the screen to touch and move things around. This has been and interesting learning experience but I still have not gotten the whole texting thing or chicken pecking on the kindle.  The damn thing confuses me as I have a hell of a time spelling and the kindle wants to correct everything I type, whats up with that any way. So I type away and look up and it looks like gibberish then as I am trying to remember what I was saying and correct it, the damn thing changes it again and still don't know what I am typing, For awhile it had me believing I couldn't type, I thought my finger tips where so big I could not just hit one key. Then I figured out the thing was trying guess what I was writing and changed everything I would type. I really hate a machine that thinks it knows everything. It's like a GPS telling me to turn right when I know where I am at and I need to turn left, then it want to argue with me. 
Now the kids have it all down and keep trying to get me educated in the all the new technology.
The girls bring the lap tops to kitchen and surf the Internet while we chit chat. One of the girls ask me a question and I approached the lap top and put my finger on the screen to scroll up on it and the girls yell "what are you doing"?  I'm trying to move this damn thing up. Ma this is not a kindle it's a laptop. Now we all start laughing and the jokes kick in. That in its self is bad enough but 5 minutes later I try again and get mad because I can't just move the thing with my finger, guess old dogs just don't learn new tricks or retain the old ones,


Dead down feathers still fly.

I use to think I shared my bed with my dogs. I had a down comforter that was like sleeping in a cloud. I loved my bed and loved having the dogs in the bed with me. But I have come to learn I do not share my bed with the dogs, they let me sleep with them. Slowly they have taken over and my poor down comforter has been flattened. Those feathers just could not keep up with three washes a week. Pissed on, romped on, laid on and even shit on, just killed my comforter. 

I have tried to barricaded my room to keep the dogs out of it while I am not in the room.  But they jump, climb or hell the kids just take the gate down and let them run a muck in the room.
I always use to make my bed before I left my room in the morning, I hate to get into an unmade bed. Slowly I got so tired of making my bed 5 times a day, I then dropped it to 3 times and now I just shake it out before I crawl in. Every night I find toys, crumb of some sort, dirt where they scritch the grass after they do their business and dirt cakes in their nails and paws. Most nights it's mud as the dew has started to wet the grass down when they go out for the last time before bed. They steal food and drag it down to my room and eat it in my bed. I have found Halls cough drop bags and wrappers, potato chip bags, gum (chewed) and lets not for get body waste. They love to chew the girls underwear in my bed.
  I love a cold room to sleep in so winter time is my best time of year for sleeping. I loved my down feather comforter it was so toasty warm and then add the body heat of 10 dogs and it could snow in my room and I would not feel it. The comforter has lost most of its feathers over the years and washing it 3 time a week tends to kill down feathers. I have added a blanket along with the sheet to keep warm and got bigger naked dogs to cover more of my body to stay warm. I find that I can never get everyone under the blanket at one time, there is always one in between some under some on top and the one that is always spinning gets twisted in the them. Getting them all under and settled down can take and act of God and Congress to get done. As I am trying to get one under the blanket his leg is still sticking out and the more I tug at the blankets the more the leg resist and then the dog bucks and bumps one of the others or just plain jumps on one. Then it starts a bitching match and the ones under the blanket are now on top and the one spinning is wound so tight I have to get up and untwist the blankets to get her out. Some nights this can take 15 minutes to get everyone settled. Then it takes another 15 minutes to get the heat built up enough to take the chill off. Once we are all snug as a bug in a rug and sleep has taken over, I want it to stay that way till morning. The down feathers that are left have taken on a life of their own some nights. One dog will think it hears something and bark, the others all jump in unison to take off and the blanket catch air and hovers over me as the dogs fall back to the bed and run like hell to the door. Now what ever heat we managed to make is gone and the dogs are all on heightened alert as I yell at them to get back in bed. Then the old house settles and makes a creak and we start all over again. These nights I have to get up and get sweatshirts and sweat pants on to stay warm.
As I am shaking out my bed tonight I think I will just put the sweats on because one of the kids is out and I know my feathers will hover tonight when she comes home.


Just wrap them.

Life at work has gotten pretty stressful and I feel like I am in a pressure cooker most days.  Some days more than others. So once I am in the, work like a fool mode, I really do not want to be bothered, and most definitely not by my kids who can take drama to all new levels.  Last week I am in the trenches at work when the phone call with the panicked voice of one of the girls comes in. English is the second language for the girls and when they are submerged in drama about something, Hell everything, they start talking so fast It is hard for me to jump into the conversation and pick up on the subject let alone follow it.  So far all I had gotten on the call was I left my bag at home and  I am on the bus. As my mood deteriorates I said "And what do you want me to do about it?" Ma I don't have a bra. Wow! Thanks for sharing, how did you get on the bus with out one on? As the panic rose in her voice my ability to figure out what she was talking about waned. Will you please start over and tell what is wrong? The speed at which she was explaining was as if she was a 45 record turned up to a 78. After many questions I learned she was trying to cute corners and decided to not shower two times in one day. So she skipped the morning shower left her night cloths on put a coat on, packed clean cloths and gym cloths to work out in then left them at home and got on the bus. Her choices was get off the bus and catch one going back home walk a mile home from bus stop get bag and start over. OR buy some other cloths and continue on and hope she made it to class on time. She oped to stop and buy more cloths. Money being another problem she thought she would jump off the bus run into Volunteers of America second hand store and grab something to wear. All went well till she realized they do not sell bras. She tried dollar store and still no luck. I am laughing my ass off as she tells me this.  I have not helped in any way and all I could do was laugh at her. Then she yelled " What should I do?" Now I am not only laughing I am being sarcastic when I yelled back "wrap them like we wrap Mako's ears and go to class" Click!  I guess that was not the answer she was looking for. But it did make my day better by laughing so hard at her.


My nursing skills suck

As my close rescue friends will tell you I am not good with the sick and injured dogs. I can work with them but I do much better with behavior issues.  I am not squeamish and I do not panic but I do get scared. I am always worried about keeping up with all the medical needs they will have. I worry about forgetting meds as I forget mine own a lot. I want them to be healthy and happy.   I worry about their comfort while they recuperate. It can cause me a lot of distress as I can not sit with them all day and make sure they are doing well. My nursing skills suck to say the least.
Now working with a dog that has had surgery for skin cancer  has challenged me in every way. I have put all the other dogs needs on hold as I have gone the whole 9 yards and made myself crazy taking care of this dogs needs as he continues to be himself. I really think he is in so much pain, I  feel bad and coddle him. Now Mako is or is not feeling pain, I can only imagine how I would feel and I am a wimp. Now I think he took advantage of me, that being said the little bastard has drove me nuts. I kicked all the other dogs out of my bed so I could watch him and make sure he was comfortable all night I lost sleep worrying about him. He took over the entire king size bed as I tried to not bother him. Then second night after surgery I awoke to something touching my nose. In my drug induce sleep I swatted at the thing bothering my nose and my hand hit something and sound of a plastic bowl hitting something brought me out of sleep totally and I opened my eyes and the first thing I see is Mako's nose on mine and my head is inside the damn dogs cone of shame he is wearing to keep him from pulling at his stitches. Now this is what scary movies are made of. For all the folks who sleep with their pets they know the feeling of waking up to one end or the other of the pet, shoved in their face.  The second night my dogs where not having any part of being shoved out of bed and started the whimpering whining that keeps you up all night. By the third night I needed sleep so I opened up the bed to all but Sipan to come and sleep with us. This did not fair any better for a good night sleep as there was so much grumbling going on all night long. Gerrrrrr he touched me, Gerrrr his butt is in my face, Gerrrrr I was in that spot, Gerrrr who farted, and so on as the growl's continued through the night. Hell these dogs are grouchier than I am when I need sleep. The forth night Mako went back to the couch by himself and life returned to some kind of normalcy. To keep the big dogs apart I have gated off rooms all the way through my house and one has a little door to allow the little dogs to move about with a little more freedom and keep big dog separated.

Now the stitches are gone along with the cone and we found that Mako's determination to get into things has him squeezing through the little door to get to kitchen. He can get out of his cage and his nose is always looking for food. He opens the cupboard and helps himself to what ever he finds.  He is not a counter surfer but he is a counter sweep. He just drags his nose and lips along the top edge of the counter as he walks along on his hind legs, scoffing up any little smug,crumb or sandwich he can find. He gets his spot on the couch and will chase off any of the other dogs who are on the couch no matter where they are. He just thinks its his. Now he will come up to us and try to wiggle himself between us and the couch or chair we are sitting in. He is a master at this as we are not even aware of him till his 38 lbs of flesh has taken over our spot and we are being squeezed. He is healed and I am not so worried about his surgery any more,  he is just a bigger version of a Damn dog, and sick or not they are all the same and my sanity is still in need of help.