When this puppy, Alto:

only grew to be this big:

he died from complications of being so small and only weighing 2 and 1/2 pounds.  On the same day that he died, I brought home this puppy:

She was officially named “Lynn’s Amelia MiMi,” but was usually called just MiMi.  If she got called by her ‘big name’ (Amelia) she thought that she was in trouble.  For Christmas she got a Tickle Me Elmo.  Yes, it was the year that nobody could find one for their kids.

She didn’t let Momo (remember she wasn’t old enough to pronounce Elmo) out of her sight.  She even took her on our trips in the motorhome.  They liked to be the co-pilots.

She liked to pretend like she was going to push Momo off of the couch and then rescue him at the last minute.

She fell in love, got married (and quickly kicked that dude to the curb) and had 8 puppies.

If she couldn’t sleep on the bed, then the true love of her life would sleep on the floor with her:

We kept one of the puppies,  much to her dismay, and named him ‘Jack, Prince of Plantations.’ He usually answers to “That Damn Dog.”

Jack never had to be separated from his momma.  Even though he is still a puppy in this picture (and he’s 9 years old now) we’ve seen this look on his face a lot lately:

MiMi didn’t always have to have her special toy with her, but she did have to play with it before she went to bed.  You can see the wear around Momo’s mouth.  You can imagine what he looked like 9 years later.

Jack ran away for the first time tonight.  I think that he was looking for MiMi.  I had to get in the car to find my brat, Jack.  None of us will be quite the same without our MiMi.  She was the best dog that has ever blessed us by living at our house.  We both say that when Jack goes to Heaven to live with his mom, we won’t get any more dogs.  We’ve lied before.

From what I understand, Avitable and Miss Britt might include ageism as the topic on one of their future shows.  On Wednesday nights at 9:00 PM (EDT) they have a show named “Clearly, You are Retarded.”  The chatroom for the show is almost as much fun as the show is.

I’ve got to admit that I didn’t even know that ‘ageism’ was a word.  Unfortunately for some of the people around me, I don’t even recognize that there is a difference between our ages.  Only my arthritis and sagging skin set us apart.  My friends that I see all of the time (not just acquaintances) range in age from 31 to 74.  I act the same way around all of them.

I was very surprised to find out that there are cliques in the blogging world.  I sometimes feel like some people (whose age I decide to not find out) are thinking of me as, “Oh, that woman.”  I hope that it’s just because sometimes I’m a bit outspoken.  Not because I’m old. 

I have no idea.  On Sunday night I knew that I was going to have to take the beautiful Lynn’s Amelia MiMi to the vet for the trip that we all dread.  She had not even been able to keep water in her tummy all day long.  Since she was having all kinds of accidents all over the house, my husband closed her up in the bathroom.  I came behind him and let her out.  I said to him, “I’m taking her to John (the vet) in the morning. She is not going to spend the last night of her life closed up in a bathroom.”  When I came to bed, I noticed that he had closed her up in her kennel.  I said to him, “I dread what I have to do tomorrow, but she is not going to be spending the last night of her life closed up in a cage,” and I let her out.

I need to tell you that MiMi was my husband’s baby girl.  Her big brown eyes were focused on him at all times.  When I wrote him an email to let him know that she was dead, he rushed right home to help bury her.  HE THOUGHT SHE HAD DIED AT HOME.

Now I love this husband of mine with my whole heart.  But after these 35 years I may have to say to him, “I don’t want you to have to spend your last night closed in the bathroom.”  He won’t hear me any way.

…and why do I always have to be the one to decide?  Our ‘momma’ dog has been unable to keep food down for 2 weeks now.  She is definitely a “Weeks” because she absolutely loves to eat and always has.  She has probably lost 10 pounds (she only weighed 30 to begin with) and she is very listless.

The first question that I need to answer is why I don’t take her to the vet.  Trust me, she has been.  They even removed 15 of her teeth without my permission earlier in the year.  We spent $700 on an operation for our last dog who died any way. I guess I’ll have to take her in the morning and hold her while they give her the shot that will put her out of her misery.  My husband insists that he ‘can’t’ do it.  I hope that they don’t ask questions that I can’t answer.

The main question that I can’t answer is:  Why does everybody assume that I am the “strong” one who can do this?  Why was I the one who everybody knew would stay with my mother in hospice for two weeks and watch her die?  I had just spent two weeks, days and most nights, with her in the hospital before that.  Now I have my father who is getting weaker and weaker every day in my back bedroom.  He doesn’t like us to leave him at home alone.

When do I get to be the baby?

No, I didn’t leave the ‘r’ out of that title.  I have tried to resist writing too much about my grandson.  This time I can’t resist.  Anybody who has had to watch a 3 year old knows that when you have to go to the bathroom, you can’t let them roam the house.  Most of the time you just lock them in the room with you.

Flash backwards to a child that was extra hard to potty train.  When we told him that that diapers were for babies, he told us that he wore grownup diapers.  (This was extra funny since my father, who lives with us, does wear grownup diapers.)  Potty training was finally accomplished.

Back to the present.  Cameron was in the bathroom with me.  He took one square of toilet paper and told me, “Lean over, I wipe you butt.”  (Oh get over it, I had already wiped.)  When I got up, he said, “Now wash you hands.”  After I got that task done, he clapped his hands for a full minute.  When was the last time that anybody clapped just because YOU pooped?

Actually the point of this post is that we don’t applaud enough.  Consider, if you will, the radio talk show that stars Avitable and Britt.  This show is on TalkShoe on Wednesday nights at 9:00 PM.  It is very insightful and also has a great chatroom.  Even though they are already listed on iTunes (search “Clearly, You’re Retarded”) I hope they make the iTunes’ podcast front page soon.  They already had more subscribers listening than any other show on TalkShoe at that time.

I really enjoy reading their blogs every day, but I have no desire to wipe either one of their butts.  But I would like to give them this for their show:  CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP….

This is what a scallop shell looks like:

Every year, for the last 20 or so years, my family has gone to the underarm of Florida (you know, where the panhandle meets the real part) to dive for scallops.  By my whole family, I mean my parents, us, our kids, and our grandson.  We camp (in our ‘don’t call it a camper’ cool motorhomes) with 4 or 5 other families.  We have watched other kids grow up, and we are now sharing mixed drink recipes with those same used-to-be babies.

This is a picture of my son and his wife with a bag of scallops: (which shows up in the draft, but not on the page) I guess that I’m going to need help from Avitable again!

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  OK, you might not look so good wet either!  Scallops live in the grass in salt water.  You can find them in 18 inches of water for the kids, or in 8 feet of water for the adults.  The season opens on July 1st and closes after Labor Day.  We are out on the water on the first day and on the last day and sometimes on days inbetween.  Finding scallops is like an Easter egg hunt, cleaning them is disgusting, and eating them is yummy.  We have found some really large scallops over the years, but the largest one did not have meat in it that was over one inch long.  If you are served ‘bay scallops’ that are larger than that, you are probably eating shark.  If the meat looks like it has been cut with it small cookie cutter, it probably has! 

I have been slowly turning into the clumsiest person in the world.  I have gotten hurt at least once each of the last few years.  This year I slipped on the ladder after we had our limit of scallops while I was trying to get back in the water to “test the water temperature,” but I still love my summertime egg scallop hunt.

Some of the young adults are getting tired of our scalloping ritual.  Some of us old farts are finding it easier to sit on the boat and clean scallops than to don our masks, snorkels, fins, socks, Tshirts and get wet.

I sure hope that this family tradition continues.  And I sure hope that nobody tries to serve you shark meat and call it scallops.

In education the pendulum swings from one extreme to the other with ‘proper’ teaching methods.  Apparently this holds true for body hair ‘down there’ also.  One of my favorite movies, Sling Blade, has a scene in it that shows a patient in an insane asylum saying, “I like a woman with a big bush.”  I’m guessing that the line wouldn’t make it into the movie today.  The pendulum, during my lifetime, has swung from hairy, to landing strip, to bald.  There’s nowhere to go but back, Mr. Pendulum.

This reminds me of a girl in high school who had that disease that causes a person to have no hair on their bodies anywhere.  She never had to pluck her eyebrows.  That hurts!  I remember the rude boys asking her if she looked like a 10 year old in the nether regions.  I guess she is in style now.

Now for the real point of this post.  My girlfriends from high school (with whom I have dinner every month) tell me that my pubes are going to turn gray.  They’re not right, are they? 

I’ve got to admit that I’m a little gay for my new Instinct phone. 

Sorry, but I’m blog cheating again.  This was too good to lose.

Happy 7th Anniversary to Adam and  Leah Weeks! 

 I love you and your little boy too!