Of Puppy Enthusiasm and Crabby Dogs by Konnie Enos

I was comfortably sound asleep having pleasant dreams. I can’t now tell you what those dreams were because I was suddenly jarred awake by wet coldness on the tip of my nose.

Now if you have any interaction with four-legged friends you can understand what can cause this. Since our home is full of four-legged family members in possession of cold wet noses, I immediately flailed out at my assumed offender, my ornery Mable. After all her preferred sleeping place is between Jerry and me.

My hands did not find Mable. I now assumed I was being attacked by Reeses, Jerry’s fluff ball because he slept in our room. I reached higher as I pried my eyes open.

I finally managed to focus just enough of a peek to see just who was putting his nose on me. I hadn’t reached high enough either time. With the identity of my attacker confirmed I realized Jerry wasn’t in bed. How could he be with this large lummox sitting on Jerry’s spot in the bed?

 Since Jerry was awake, and this beast was loose in my bedroom, I could only conclude Jerry had returned from picking Tony up from work.

Therefore I yelled at Tony for help, all while grappling with the behemoth attempting to keep him from biting me or again sticking his nose in my face. To ensure I got some assistance I further added that I did not appreciate being roused from a sound sleep by a cold, wet nose.

Tony came into the room laughing and hauled the interloper off my bed, out of my room, and into the back yard where presumably he was supposed to be rather than curiously poking at my face.

Now I must explain that this behemoth, while now the second largest of our dogs, the Akita is full-grown, he is still a puppy, and a bundle of curiosity and energy combined with a strong Husky tendency for drama.

He once somehow got one paw caught in something which resulted in him yelping and squealing so loudly it woke Jerry from a sound sleep and set most of the household, including Jerry, scrambling through the house to see what the catastrophe was. The poor dear was uninjured (the resident vet nurse completely checked him out). He did not like having his paw caught. That and he is, like all Husky’s tend to be, a true drama queen.

That is not the only time he’s whined, fussed, yelped, or squealed all because he was not pleased with his present condition and wanted attention.

For my part, I’m grateful he doesn’t generally find his way into my room with his theatrics. Most of the daylight encounters involve him sniffing around and Mable loudly telling him this is her room and she’d very much rather he not be in it. Mable is far too territorial to realize he is twice her size and still growing.

To ensure peace and no injuries, deadly or otherwise, we make efforts to keep them apart while still allowing them to see each other and hopefully Mable will get used to his presence before a battle occurs.

The behemoth has already lost all curiosity about the only female four-legged inhabitant in our house so now we have to again teach Mable that every family member is allowed in my bedroom.

Though I still have the issue of startling early morning attacks.

Only a couple of weeks after the first one, I was jolted awake by pain in one toe. That and my bed being jostled. I looked up just in time to see Tony again hauling his behemoth out of my bed and into the back yard instead of running over my bed and stepping on my toe.

I’m now assuming a third attack of the over-exuberant puppy will occur eventually. I mean he is less than a year old. He is, however, now old enough to feel the need to procreate while still being young enough to not realize all the nuances of actually doing so. In other words, he is starting to try to follow that instinct without realizing he needs a female canine to get anywhere.

Do I need to restate that we only have ONE female four-legged family member? Perhaps I should point out she is not only a senior dog but less than half his size. Though the main issue is she does NOT like him. That and Mable is as ornery as he is a drama queen.

Don’t you just love the different personalities families bring into your life?

Smile. Make the day a brighter day. 

Movies VS Books by Bonnie Le Hamilton

 

I feel like I just waded through a horrific war. Oh wait, I just read from “The Sorcerer’s Stone” clear through to “The Deathly Hallows”!

That is what reading a good book is supposed to do.

It certainly isn’t like when Harry Potter “entered” Tom Riddle’s diary and learned of the night Riddle accused Hagrid of killing Myrtle, or rather Hagrid’s pet Arogog, though that manner was a fascinating idea, it doesn’t quite work that way.

Sometimes I wish I could do that. Since I’m such a slow reader, I wouldn’t mind being able to “watch” what happened instead. The only problem is that movies do not follow the book very closely, and the later HP movies are quite frankly horrendous in how far from the facts they deviate!

I have never actually finished watching the movies. It was bad enough when they introduced those stupid talking shrunken heads in “Prisoner of Azkaban,” and taking Dobby’s big part out “Goblet of Fire” and giving it to Neville? (Outrageous!) But the beginning of . . . you know what, I can’t remember which one it was but it started with that made up scene where Harry was chatting up that waitress in that café and Dumbledore showed up? Where did that idea come from?

All of the books at or near the beginning had Harry either arriving at or leaving number 4 Privet Drive. All the movies should have started there! And again, what’s with the stupid shrunken heads?

Yes, I do know that the books are way too detailed, especially the later ones, not every detail can fit in the movies. I can understand taking Norbert out, I can understand the all-out effort to shorten the script, what I can’t understand is adding in stuff that’s not in the book!

Okay, so maybe it was easier to let Neville have the role the fake Mad-Eye intended him to have in Harry getting through the second task just so Dobby doesn’t have to be there, but then you add in that frantic scene where Neville thinks his idea didn’t work and Harry drowned! Why?

I don’t know, maybe it could have worked that way because the fake Mad-Eye did give Neville that book with that intention in mind, but well, think about it. Harry knew Neville, they slept in the same dorm room, but that was all. The most you could say was that they were acquainted with each other.

And frankly, who confides in people they barely know? Certainly not Harry, who only asked his closest friends.

Rowling may have had the fake Mad-Eye giving Neville that book (And quite frankly I was sure the first time I read about it that there was something important about that book, after all, why would a DADA teacher give a student a herbology book?) but Harry would never have asked Neville for help!

It was far more likely for Harry to get help from Dobby then to ask Neville for it. Of course, he didn’t ask Dobby either. Dobby offered his help! After being freed by Harry, Dobby was constantly asking what he could do for him, while on the other hand, Neville would never have asked if he could help, well anyone, at that point in the saga Neville thought he was all but worthless.

Who with that low of self-esteem would have offered their help to anyone? Especially someone at the top of their class, when they are closer to the bottom?

All authors have to realistic. Rowling was being realistic. End of discussion.

Though, after seeing the very first movie (having read the first several times by the date) I know for sure if I was an English teacher and my class was reading that book, I would make sure you can only answer the test questions correctly if you read the book. Even better I'd word it just so that if you only watched the movie, you’d get the answer wrong!

And for any of you kids out there who still think they can just watch the movie, there are lots of details that are totally incorrect in the movies. I promise, and I’ve only compared a few movies to the books they are based on, not just HP. I wouldn’t count on that if I were you.

Actually, I’ve yet to watch a movie based on a book that was anywhere near as good as the book. The books were always ten times better than the movies. And frankly, I liked some of those movies.

Anyway, happy writing everyone! 

Of Babies and Signs by Konnie Enos

 

My daughter recently posted a link to a post on Love What Matters. I read it then followed links at the bottom to other posts by the same woman. One link was about her fourth pregnancy and her concern about whether or not she would have twins. At this point, she had already given birth to four girls (her three previous pregnancies, one set of twins) and had adopted a young boy.

She had an early ultrasound to assure her it was only one. The ultrasound staff gave both blue and pink hats to expectant parents. When it came time to give her these hats, they couldn’t find a pink one.

The staff member said it was a sign it’d be a boy because lacking one color had never happened before. With four girls, she didn’t think she could have a boy. She mentioned this to no one until after her baby, a boy, was born. (You can read her story here: Love WhatMatters )

This all reminded me of something that happened to us.

Just after we got married, Jerry and I started discussing names for our future children. I started making a list of names we agreed on. In no time we had five names, all for girls. I insisted we needed names for boys too.

Over the next three or four months we eventually agreed upon five boy names. By then we were already expecting baby number one so I pulled out the list and asked Jerry which names we should consider for this first baby.

The first name on our list was the first one he’d put forward, it was the name he wanted to name his daughter. I agreed, our oldest daughter would be Clarissa. (There is another story about how my father confirmed our oldest daughter would be Clarissa). I then said I wanted to name my son Royce. Jerry refused. We compromised. Our first son would be Anthony, but I insisted our second son would be Royce. From this point forward I was adamant I would have two boys.

 The next time we learned we were expecting, I pulled out the list and said we needed to pick a girl’s name for our second child, just in case this time it wasn’t a boy. Jerry picked the name he liked and I, again, had no reason to oppose him. So our second child would be either Kristina or Anthony. We had Kristina.

When I got pregnant a third time this repeated though both my third and fourth pregnancies ended in miscarriage. When I got pregnant a fifth time we waited until I was in my second trimester to again check the list. We only needed a girl's name. I had reasons to pick Melinda and Jerry did not oppose me. We had Melinda.

My sixth and seventh pregnancies ended before we could consider which name we would use if we had yet another girl.

Then we got pregnant for the eighth time. We again pulled out the list but we only had two girls’ names left and could not agree which one we would use if we had another girl. I finally felt I would wait until I saw our daughter before deciding. It was never an issue. We had Anthony.

When I shortly thereafter got pregnant yet again I didn’t even pull out the list, preferring to wait until I knew we were past the first trimester. Since it was unclear when I conceived they scheduled an ultrasound at which they established I was already in my second trimester and we were indeed expecting a boy. We never had to pull the list out because we already knew I would name our second son Royce.

I did, however, look for the list to refresh my memory on what names were on it.

Through at least six moves and about a decade, I had always been able to find it. This time I could not. I have not seen it since we discussed what we would name our fourth child if we had another girl.

  To this day I can still remember the names I would have given two more girls, but I cannot tell you the remaining three boy names. And though I did conceive one more time, I miscarried long before we would have taken the time to discuss possible names.

Somehow the missing list was the biggest message we could have. There would be no more kids in our family.

Well, until our grandkids came along. So far we have one beautiful granddaughter and another granddaughter is expected in October, just in time for my daughter’s 30th birthday.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

Reading and Other Pastimes by Bonnie Le Hamilton

 

I think I have bitten off more than I handle.

I have plans for crafts to make for Christmas, and I even have the supplies, but when will I have the time to make them? Honestly, I’ve had the supplies for a couple of years now.

I’ve also been trying to practice my clarinet, but there is that time problem again because I also have signed up for a class online that I have to finish by the end of May and let’s not forget that I have a job and two different volunteer jobs, and a sister-in-law who needs rides periodically.

I know for most people this pandemic has meant doing less, staying home (and honestly it did for me at first) but then I needed to find a job and things started to open up again, and now I’m busier than ever! HELP!

There are not enough hours in the day especially since I’ve been doing so much reading since Christmas.

Right after Christmas, I started reading clear through all my Dick and Felix Francis novels, every last one of them, with a short break to read “Crooked Swan” (which I mentioned in an earlier post) but now I’ve finished those novels and, after reading one of my romances, have switched to my HP books.

Okay, not a good idea being as I’m such a slow reader, but clearly, I’m getting a ton of reading done this year.

If you count just before Christmas when I read the first twelve Boxcar Children books (which I also own) then all the Francis novels I own, including the one Konnie gave me for Christmas, that’s another thirty-nine books, and I’m currently on book four of the HP series, so that makes (counting The Crooked Swan and that romance) fifty-seven books in approximately sixteen weeks.

If you want to just count this calendar year, that cuts it down to about forty-three books read, so far, but I’m doing that at the expense of other pursuits.

And I’d really like to get better at playing my clarinet, make those Christmas crafts, and do some other sewing for me, all while working twenty hours a week, volunteering another seven hours a week, doing things like running my own errands and helping my sister-in-law run hers and of course my course work and learning excel.

On top of all that, one of the local stations I get shows Star Trek the original, NextGen, DS9, Voyager, and Enterprise in that order from six until ten Sunday through Friday nights. I don’t stay up to watch Enterprise, sometimes I don’t even watch DS9 and Voyager because I’d rather read, but I do want to watch them.

I’m at a point when I have to choose what is more important.

That’s never an easy task for me, probably because I’m on the spectrum.

I am trying.

For starters, I need to read my scriptures more than fiction.

Second, I need to finish that course and learn excel to get a better job, something that isn’t temporary.

Third, I need to lose weight. I need to exercise, and I have been trying to work on that, promise.

And fourth, I need to write my post.

With so much time on her hands, Konnie has already written her next post and has an idea for the one after that. I can’t say the same. She had to remind me it was my turn to post this week.

Yikes!

Worse still she reminded me right when I remembered I had homework and practice still do and as well as clean the litterbox and feed both me and Patches.

And that meant missing my shows!

Plus, I’m only on the twelfth chapter of Goblet of Fire, and for anyone who knows the HP series, you know that isn’t very far into the book.

And no, I have no intention of reading every book I own before Christmas this year, for one thing, that would impossible. I have too many. Just physical books I have tons; if you add in what’s on my reader and I swear I’m pushing three hundred if not more.

Actually, it’s probably more because I’m certain I have way more books than Nativities and at this point I have well over two hundred Nativities counting tree decorations and my jewelry.

Of course, some of those books are craft, cook, and instructional books. (i.e. my clarinet books.)

And let’s not forget that I'm a writer! I do have several WIP’s. The most urgent of which is my epic sci-fi which I have been trying to work on, occasionally. I really should put more time into it.

I also have some counted cross-stitch designs I’d love to get done, including one which is a Nativity, but who has time?

Something has to give, but what?

Anyway, happy writing everyone.

Of Learning Curves and Tech by Konnie Enos

 

My husband, Jerry, and I (not to mention Bonnie) were born well before the “information age”. The first computer I ever saw in person was one of those large monitors about the size of those small TVs, the kind with the tubes, and therefore a fairly good-sized box. It also had another box that held the computer processing components. Finally the keyboard. Of course, everything was attached with wires, cords, and such. It took up the whole desk.

“War Games” starring Matthew Broderick came out a year or two later. This was our first introduction to the possibility of one computer “talking” to another one over the phone lines.

I got my first computer over a decade later and it needed a separate “modem” to get on the internet. I only wanted it to write, so I didn’t care. However, when I finally went out and bought my own, it was internet-capable, though it was still dial-up.

I could also go into the changes in phones.

Sometime in the mid-1960s, with the advent of shows like “Get Smart”, they started showing spies and wealthy people having phones that weren’t attached to the wall in their homes. The wealthy people had phones attached inside their cars. Spies (i.e.: Get Smart) had phones hidden in things like their shoes. But it was in the mid-to early ’80s before any useable cellphones were produced and they were huge and not cheap.

I got my first cell phone after I got my first internet-capable computer.

The picture I’m painting is, we were adults before we had to learn how to use computers or cellphones.

I’ve been able to access the internet for 22 years. I know this because I got it with my income tax return when I was pregnant with my oldest son, who is now 21.

My point is, both of my boys have grown up in a household with the internet, computers, and cellphones. I have not.

Over the last 30 years or so I have gradually learned how to use all this. I now own a laptop, tablet, kindle, and cellphone, all web capable.

My youngest son, Royce, who is the most tech-savvy of all of us, has noticed I don’t need much help using tech. I can usually figure how to navigate, programs, apps, and websites on my own. I believe Bonnie does about that well with her tech.

Jerry on the other hand cannot go more than a day without asking Royce to show him yet again how to do some task or get to some website or fix yet another problem for the umpteenth time.

When he needs help, Royce patiently spends hours, telling him again and again, how to do, or fix, whatever the problem is this time. I’ve personally listened to these long sessions knowing Jerry won’t remember it in another hour if he even retains it that long.

Yes, Royce has helped me with things on my tech that I will never remember how to do. Something messes up on my tech. Royce comes in and clicks buttons, moves through screens, and eventually figures out the solution. Then I never have the same problem again so I forget what he did. When it is something I’ll need to use again, he doesn’t have to show me twice. I remember it, but those things are rare occurrences.

Examples: In the last few weeks Jerry has asked for Royce’s help to either get into his accounts or organize his files. Royce will patiently show him what to do and how to do it and the next day Jerry is asking him how to do the same thing again. This is pretty much daily.

On the other hand, I don’t remember the last time I had to have any tech help from Royce.

Then recently I mentioned to Jerry, with Royce in the room, that I needed to do something which would require me to leave the house, i.e.: run an errand.

Royce asked why I didn’t do it with my tech.

I didn’t know how.

With his help, fifteen minutes later I’d taken care of the matter, and I’ll remember it should I need to do it again.

Jerry blames his inability to understand tech on his age. I’m the same age he is.

How many Baby Boomers do you know who can navigate today’s tech? How many do you know like Jerry who finds it difficult to grasp? How many Millennials or Centennials do you know who haven’t grown up using all things tech?

It reminds me of our parents trying to understand/use those newfangled devices of their era. Things like VCRs, microwaves, and digital clocks. If it needed “programed” the kids had to do it because the parents just couldn’t figure it out.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.

St. Patrick's Day part 2 by Bonnie Le Hamilton

 

Last week Konnie writing about St. Patrick’s Day traditions brought back some memories. Starting with Jon must have pinched her in third grade, or she didn’t remember the whole deal because in fourth grade (our last year to attend that school) between Valentine’s Day and St. Patrick’s Day Jon repeatedly told everyone he’d learned that non-Irish folks were supposed to wear YELLOW on St. Patrick’s Day, and such folks could get pinched if they weren’t.

Now personally, I wondered why he kept stressing the wearing of yellow since our own shared grandmother was of Irish descent complete with an Irish maiden name. And I really should have said something to him about grandma’s Irish heritage, but I didn’t. My mistake.

Now, I’ve rarely ever worn green, and that year I didn’t have anything at all in my wardrobe which at least some green in it (not even in the dirty clothes). Momma fixed that by making a shamrock out of green construction paper and pinning it to my blouse.

If I recall correctly, she did the same for Konnie, and our brother.

Upon entering school, Jon did sneak up on us, and he might well have gotten Konnie before she got her coat off, but he got me while I had my coat off my shoulders, thereby with my own shamrock in full view.

The jerk defended pinching me on the grounds I wasn’t wearing yellow. I punched the idiot and reminded him of our shared grandmother’s name, which also happens to be the middle name of all our aunts and uncles on that side, so there was no way he didn’t know.

Our brother, noting that Jon was wearing yellow, not green pinched Jon, then proceeded to tell the all kids in the school that our family, the side we're related to Jon on, is of Irish descent, meaning our cousin was inappropriately dressed for the day.

And yes, that school did ban pinching after that, because Jon went home black and blue at the end of that day, far too many of our fellow classmates were sick and tired of Jon’s excessive pinches on St. Patrick’s Day, and way more had been pinched by him that morning than previous years because very few were wearing yellow.

And, like I said, I did punch the idiot. I actually punched him about the time the teacher came to see what the hullabaloo was out in the corridor. She witnessed it, but I didn’t get in trouble because the pinch marks on both mine and Konnie’s arms and the fact that we are of Irish descent, and the teacher, who clearly knew both our mothers knew full well what their full names were.

Jon does have younger siblings, and two at least were in school, but if I recall correctly the older of the two was wearing something which had both green and yellow in it because I remember talking to her about how wise she’d been, but I can’t remember for sure about the younger ones.

Anyway, Jon had most defiantly pinched way too hard every year on St. Patrick’s Day (which was why we were so adamant that we needed to wear green that morning), but I have no idea when the tradition changed from pinching those that didn’t wear green (or yellow as the case may be). I only learned about this Leprechaun hunting shtick a few years ago when a young mother mentioned playing tricks on her daughters for St. Patrick’s Day.

At any rate, I applaud doing away with pinching. I applaud making it just something fun to do. Chocolate gold coins and leprechaun traps are a whole lot more fun.

It’s great to know no more kids are going to wake up on the St. Patrick’s Day and panic because they have nothing green to wear. No more kids are going to fear what will happen when the known hard pincher at school sees them without green.

Anyone know when this started? And where?

I’m not saying I’m sorry the pinching tradition is over; I’m actually quite glad no more kids have to endure any more bruising pinches like Jon always delt out, I’m just curious where and when it started is all.

Certainly not at any time while I was living at home. And nobody told me about it for that short-lived period when I did have children in my home. So, I’m guessing it’s a 21st-century thing. I did not have any children in this century.

I clearly remember my panic that morning back in fourth grade. Mine, and Konnie’s, and Bryon’s. That’s why Momma came up with the construction paper shamrocks in the first place.

Well, happy writing everyone! 

Of Traditions by Konnie Enos

I can remember, somewhere in the very early 70s when I was in grade school, walking into the school and stopping in the hallway by the row of hooks there to hang up my coat. It wasn’t quite yet spring weather yet therefore I had on a nice warm coat.

Before I even had it unbuttoned, my cousin came up to me and pinched me hard enough I yelped. A teacher came out to find out what happened and we told her. At this point, I still hadn’t gotten my coat off.

Now our school did have policies about hitting and pinching so normally he would have been immediately punished for his infraction.

On this particular day, he was positive he wouldn’t be punished or even yelled at, not even when he’d done it as hard as he did.

I, on the other hand, was indignant at being pinched at all, let alone that it hurt and left a clear mark on me. I remember the teacher could still see the mark he left. I wanted vindication.

What did I get?

The teacher told my cousin not to pinch that hard.

That’s right, the teacher did not enforce any of our school rules.

I did not think it was fair and was rather upset about it. As I took my coat off and hung it up, with my back to the teacher and my cousin, I told the teacher I hadn’t been expecting to be pinched.

She told me I should have expected it and if I hadn’t wanted to be pinched, I should have prepared accordingly.

I then spun around to face them and said, “I did!”

With my coat now not covering the front of my shirt it was obvious I had indeed made appropriate preparations.

You see, it was March 17^th. The day for the wearing of the green. My outfit that day was, as I recall, a pantsuit. One whose most predominant color was purple as I remember. The only other thing I remember is neither my coat nor shoes were green.

I did, however, have something green pinned, quite prominently, to the front of my shirt. It was large enough to not be missed. It was also right where it could not be seen with my coat on.

Well at this point the teacher could not give Jon the usual punishment for pinching because it was a free reign that day, but she did reprimand him and told him he could not pinch anybody at all until after he’d made certain they had no green on, more specifically, their coats off.

Though I think it wasn’t long after this event when that particular school banned St. Patrick’s Day pinching altogether.

As widespread and common as this activity was when I was growing up, I’ve been amazed at the number of people I know who has never heard of it. I know most schools have banned it mostly because of how hard some kids would pinch, thankfully.

When my kids were in school they focused on “catching leprechauns” instead. Once one of my older girls asked me what kind of traps and such we had come up with to catch leprechauns when we were in grade school. I had to tell her none. I’d never even heard of making leprechaun traps until they were in grade school.

I can also remember people who weren’t of Irish descent NOT wearing green on St. Patrick’s Day. Instead, they wore yellow. However, I also remember that most non-Irish would wear at least a token bit of green because very few people bothered to find out if they were Irish or not before pinching them.

I don’t like the tradition of pinching others and I’m glad it’s being dropped for less offensive traditions. Of course, nowadays I doubt anyone would dare pinch someone not wearing the green. Not just because that tradition is disappearing, or even the issues with the current pandemic (though I’m positive it would be a deterrent), but rather because people are recognizing that even pinching can be as hurtful or traumatizing as hitting. This is a good thing.

 I can also remember wearing green to bed to prevent my brother from pinching me before I even got out of bed. I still did that as a young mother.

Now?

Since I’m staying in all day I doubt I’ll even worry about the wearing of the green. After all, my kids aren’t going to pinch me. Partly because I’m Mom, but mostly because they didn’t grow up with that tradition.

What St. Patty’s Day traditions did you grow up with and which ones do you still follow.

May the luck of the Irish be with ya.

Smile. Make the day a brighter day.