Dogggy Paddle


That’s right, “Dogggy” with three G’s – ponder Dogggy Paddle, other than my employer the only Instagram site I follow. Forget cats and cute baby animals – Dogggy Paddle relieves stress, smooths rough edges, coaxes smiles from sullen faces. Check out the link below.

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https://www.instagram.com/dogggypaddle/

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Crazy Button


I need my head examined. Quora obsession – call it my dark side,finds me lurking in places I’m not proud of. What began as a “phase”, has become an embarrassing testament to powers of indignant outrage, astonishment, and mind blowing realization. Polite reminders to behave myself deliver tepid results, best intentions fall victim to uncontrollable curiosity. Convincing myself of “curious” intentions, eases excruciating reality – I need my head examined.

On a good day, I’ll post questions like “What is the greatest archeological treasure lost to war or conflict?” or “Will cursive writing become obsolete?”. Genuine queries resulting in thoughtful exchanges.

Bad days (the crux of my bat shit addiction to Quora) go something like this – following are two questions asked this evening under the topic “Religion”.

“If you’re an Atheist, is it better to raise your children as Theist so he/she can find strength in difficult times?”

“Is it true that Atheists don’t really believe in God, but that they really just want to be God?”

This is when it gets tricky. Reasonable Notes would guffaw and move on, possessed Notes shakes hands with futility. Something about preposterous questions void of frivolous explanation or reason pushes my crazy button. Every sinew of my being, taut and helpless as propriety skips out the door.

“Crazy button” deserves clarification, crazy suggests ranting tirades – the reality of my “crazy” doesn’t even come close. Crazy resides in the fact I respond. Crazy shame lurks in not logging out or moving on once “are you serious”, holy freaking crap and WTF? settle down. Crazy is my fascination with absurdly brief ridiculous questions – particularly those intended for morally corrupt heathens. As I’m writing another question surfaced…

“Do some people just pretend to be Atheists, and try to convince others God doesn’t exist because they believe God doesn’t want mankind to know of or believe in his existence?”

I’m having second thoughts about my plea for help – that question was too good. Perhaps I could temper obsessively poor judgement with strict resolve to look, keeping snide remarks and opinions to myself.

 

“Bored” Games


Christmas at my house always involves board games, I’m revisiting Monopoly because it defined so many Christmases

notestoponder

As a child we played a lot of board games – Monopoly for the most part – more often than not, it ended long before any satisfactory conclusion. Not that it mattered, the rules were simple and it was something to do.Every family had a Monopoly game; expressions like “get out of jail free” or “do not pass go” became part of popular culture.

Monopoly wasn’t something I would ever classify as fun; the premise of collecting property by forcing others into bankruptcy struck me as vicious – perhaps explaining why the game rarely reached a conclusion. I can’t recall a single game with an amicable parting of players. If we didn’t lose interest, it was guaranteed someone stormed off in a huff.

Before Christmas, shopping found me in a game store. Years since I’ve paid the slightest attention to boxed games on store shelves. I’m can’t say for certain…

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I Lost My Spider


It started without incident, my last day of work before Christmas. No surprises, a repeat client – over and done in time for a quick nap before heading out to power shop Christmas. So far, so good.

Most years my shopping takes place over a frantic day and a half before 5 PM curfew on Christmas Eve. Not much for online shopping, my decision a few days ago to order a wide angle lens for my husband’s camera, brought me to Amazon for the first time. A babe in the woods – pleased with myself for taking his gift off the list, happily clicking on “guaranteed delivery” by December 23, seemed well worth the minimal extra charge. Believing my credit card purchase would be processed before shipping struck as reasonable. Not so fast –  logging into Amazon I discovered an “import fee deposit” of $45 in addition to taxes and expedited shipping fee. Hmm? I came home from work to find the package sitting on the doorstep, logged into my Visa account – holy crap! $45 had turned into $136. With taxes, shipping, and mysterious import fees – a $310 lens cost almost $500. Unimpressed is putting it mildly.

Live and learn notes. Time for that nap and shopping, at least his present was tucked away.My husband and I hit the mall. It was remarkable – giddy with progress, within half an hour it was back to the car to unload. Up went the glass lift-gate, in went the parcels – oops, the top part of the gate wasn’t locked. He opened it again (don’t know what possessed me other than trying to be helpful) I reached in to manually lock the gate just as he slammed it down. I can’t say for certain my finger is broken – without question the middle finger of my right hand is cut, bruised, swollen double size and sports a worrisome “bend”. It wasn’t his fault.

Time to call it a day. I’ll go home, pour myself a glass of wine, post some of his photographs – that will make me feel better.

Anyone who’s followed me a while knows about my Black Widow spider trouble. I’ve lost track – I think the one under the wood valance in my bedroom is number 13. I spotted her a few weeks ago. Not very big, incredibly polite, I cut her a deal – mind your manners, we’ll get along just fine.She thanked me for not vacuuming her to oblivion by keeping her end of the bargain. Until tonight.

I said goodbye this morning, she hasn’t strayed more than an inch or two in days.we were getting along famously. A few minutes ago I looked up – perfect, I’ve lost my spider.

 

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