Florida bound....

WooooooooooooooooHooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'm outta here! For ten days! Ahhh....the sea, the sun, being spoiled by my folks. Yeah, yeah...so it's not St. Martin, but hey....every once in a while you just need a rest.

So be nice to each other while I'm gone. See you soon!

C.

Coffee snob...or rather...

A coffee cream snob. I admit it...I am prejudiced when it comes to the white stuff.

Please, no milk, no matter what percent milk fat. Absolutely no powdered crap! All that does is settle into a gunky mess in the bottom of the cup. No fake, non-dairy, pretend-it's-cream coffee creamer...just doesn't have the same taste. And by all means, no FLAVORED coffee creamer. Why would you do that to yourself?

Just give me plain old half-and-half. Just like my grandmother used to put into her coffee. It adds a richness that the other stuff just can't compare with.

In the Caribbean, they don't have a lot of cows, so they serve their coffee with evaporated milk. You know, the kind from the can. The stuff my grandmother made gravy with. And believe it or not...it's not that bad. It has a richness not unlike half-and-half. But the flavor is different. In a pinch, I'll open up a can for my coffee and relive some good ol' memories of my Caribbean travels. Try it sometime.

So, the reason for this post....On Thursday, during my lunch hour, I went to the grocery store to buy catfood as the cat tried to eat my ankle due to the fact that I had forgotten to buy it earlier and ran out. And yes, call me crazy, but in addition to my two dogs, I have two cats. I've had them for a thousand years, but...that's a different story.

And while I was buying aforementioned catfood, I needed half-and-half for my coffee as well. So I get the catfood and cream and put the cream in the refrigerator at work to keep cold.

And there it still sits. I am so bummed that I walked out of the office Friday afternoon without my creamer and didn't realize it until this morning when I got up to make a pot of coffee. So here I sit, coffee made, with nothing but 1/2% milk. Ick. But I can't drink coffee black...ickier yet. And it rained/iced/snowed last night so I have no desire to drive to the corner store and buy more.

But at this rate...I'm almost desperate enough to do anything.

Bread, the damned bread.

So I have this very productive day off today. Thanks to the Good Doctor. And I did laundry, the dishes, threw away a bunch o' crap....and tonight, while making dinner, I got a hankerin'(yes, I said hankerin') for some fresh baked bread.

I have a breadmaker and about twice a month I get out my bread cookbook and make bread. It is so nice to have warm fresh bread with real butter...and at the store the other day I found cinnamon butter! Ohhhhh....just a bit sweet, with real cinnamon. Mmmmmm....I couldn't wait.

I looked through the cookbook and decided on Sally Lund bread. A good thick white bread that's just the bittiest bit sweet. I thought that would be so wonderful with the cinnamon butter.

Two hours and forty minutes...that's how long the machine takes to make bread. And as that time went on....the house began filling with the warmth and scent of freshly baking bread. Every time I walked through the kitchen my mouth watered, anxious for a nice thick slice of warm bread, dripping with butter. So, I'll worry about heart disease tomorrow...

And then it was done. The buzzer goes off to signal the end of the baking cycle and I all but run to the kitchen to turn out the golden loaf. And it's perfect...the crust golden brown, crisp and crunchy. And the inside of the bread, steaming and oh so tender.

I turned the bread out onto the cutting board on the counter, wanting to wait just a few minutes until it is just the right temperature~warm enough to melt the butter, but not so warm as to burn my mouth when I bite into all that crunchy, tender goodness. And while I was waiting, I played spider solitaire on the computer.

And then I heard it. This funny little sound...that I had been hearing for probably a minute before the sound registered that it was out of place. I walk into the living room and there I see....on the floor....the smallest bit of tender goodness. I run over, pick it up..and it's still warm...the perfect temperature. And there they are...licking their chops because clearly the bread was incredible.

Those damned dogs pulled the loaf of warm bread off the counter and ate all of it but that one tiny little piece of heaven that now sat in my hand, with a few dog hairs sticking out of it.

And as I sit here, typing, they are lying on the living room floor, sated...full...sleeping. All because they ate the damned bread.

Little shits.

The thing that's hardest about my job is this...

The loss of hope. Occasionally, you come across that kid that has absolutely lost any hope of anything ever changing.

You can see it in their eyes. There's a dullness where there should be bright. They look at you with these eyes that tell you that they know you can't help, or that they've been here before, it's all the same...nice try. And no matter how hard you work to make them shine...you know that the damage has already been done.

Even if you can take a child out of that setting, or make the home better, there's an innocence gone, a forbidden knowledge that they've already learned. They have learned lessons that no one should ever learn. Not unlike a dog that loves you unconditionally even when you've kicked it and it comes back with it's tail wagging to show you it still loves you, children love those abusive parents unconditionally.

Is it because they don't know anything different? Is it because they are so dependent on the people that brought them into this world? I don't know. But I do know that eventually, they lose hope that anything will change, and then...and then. There's that little tiny part of them that begins to hate...and thus begins the cycle.

I hear often from people, learning what I do for a living...'I don't know how you can do your job.'

I don't know how I can't.

There are so few things in this world more precious than a child learning what life is about. When an infant tries sweet baby food for the first time...you see it in their eyes, when they light up as if to say 'ahhhh, this is new, and it's good'.

Or the first time he rides his bike without the training wheels, and his laughter can be heard around the block, because he's DOING it! That excitement is infectious.

But the children I encounter regularly...making excuses why their daddy left those bruises on their back, or why mommy has all those men come over at night. Or how about the kids that tell you that mommy has to take all those pills because she's sick, she not really a drug addict. And the ones that really get to me....'he said he loved me, and that's how he shows me he loves me'...yeah, sweetie, all daddies love their daughters with their penises.

So why do I do the job I do? Because. Just because.

What?

I'm sitting here today wondering what to blog about. It's Sunday, and it's quiet around here.

I got up early, let the dogs out to pee, turned the coffee on, and went back to bed to sleep a little more.

I love to sleep in. I love to take naps. I love to snuggle up in the flannel sheets with a good book to read. My dogs sleep on the end of my bed and keep my feet warm. This always makes me happy...cause they love me unconditionally.

Let's see...what else....I colored my hair today. I know I've posted before about inheriting premature gray from my parents. I noticed today while coloring, that I'm more than 50% gray. And I don't mean gray, I mean white. And if I don't color every three or four weeks, it's to the point that you can REALLY tell my roots are going white. I wonder what I would look like as a blond? I'm sure that the roots would show less...or maybe you would just really be able to see the brown roots more. I guess I'm just screwed either way. I'm too young to be gray!!!

Well....this is an extremely pathetic post....I am completely boring today. I can't even think of something entertaining to write about.

Crap.

I think I'm a bit offended...

I watched a 'news' report on ABC today about Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie expecting a baby. I'm very happy for them. It seems that it's what they have both wanted for a long time. Will it be a boy? A girl? Will they buy a sonogram machine like Tom and Katie? Hopefully they will continue to carry on with grace and dignity in the coming months....I'm sure they are in for a wild ride with the media. And can you imagine how beautiful that baby will be?? Unless of course, there isn't any beautiful left over...then it may be ugly. But I doubt it.

But here's the part that offended me. In the report, the reporter reports that the couple is already planning on another adoption...and are trying to decide from which country they will adopt.

Um...hello??? How about the good ole U - S of A? There are literally thousands of children each year across the country waiting for adoption. Children that have probably lived just as tragic lives as the children they are adopting from other countries. These children come from abusive homes, neglectful homes, and a large majority of them will stagnate in the system until they age out at the age of 18.

Why not show a bit of generosity and love to a child right here in THIS country??

I'm offended. I truly am.

Funny thing happened on the way to the vet...

Ok...so as previously posted, Nala escaped her crate this past Wednesday and ate way too much and had 'intestinal issues' all over the carpet. I stayed at home on Thursday to take care of her. She had plain rice for dinner on Thursday to help her tummy.

Yesterday I got home from work and she was in a lot of pain. Wouldn't stand up straight, wouldn't leave my side. I debated about taking her to the emergency vet, but knew it would cost me about $500 bucks....because it costs an arm and a leg to just walk in the door. So, I decided not to take her to the ER, but left a message on my vet's voicemail telling him that I was going to bring her in first thing this morning.

She was very good all night, didn't move from her spot, and this morning, she seemed a little better. She went outside, peed, and I put her in the truck to go to the vet.

Apparently it dropped below freezing here last night, and I know, shocking as I live in Michigan, but this morning it rained. And the roads were a bit slippery. I decided that I would risk it because Nala still seemed sick and I was worried. Of course, as soon as you tell her we're going for a ride, she was jumping and hootin', and raring to go.

I decided to take the back roads and avoid the highway because people always seemed to forget how to drive in icy conditions. And it's a good thing I did. There were four, yep, count 'em, four major pile ups on the highways here. More than ten cars each. But as I'm driving into town, I go around a curve, going less than 25 miles an hour, and my jeep slid out of control. There was nothing I could do, no where I could go, and did a 180 and hit the curb, jumping it and landing in the grass. I'm fine, the dog's fine, the jeep's fine, but the tire is not. Tore the tire right off the rim.

After my heart slowed down and jumped back into my chest, I decided that this was a bad spot and I needed to get out of the way before someone came tearing around the curve and hit me. I crossed the street and pulled into a parking lot just in time to watch some other idiot(I am including myself as the original idiot) did the exact same thing I did with the same results. And ten minutes after that, another car comes around the curve, slows down to avoid the idiot that decided to just stay where he was, and an SUV slammed into the back of him! I think the car was totaled, but the SUV looked just fine.

I jumped out of my car, the dog was looking at me like, what the fuck?? and ran over to the folks in the accident. I called 911 and the tow truck that was originally coming over to fix my tire ended up taking away one of the broken cars. There were no injuries, so that was a good thing. And as we were all standing there....the salt truck rolls by. Now ain't that a bitch!

I waited two hours for another tow truck to come and change my tire. Now, before you guys get bent out of shape...I did try to change it myself, but the lugnuts were too tight. I just got new tires a few months ago and they tightened them way too much. Even the tow guy said they were on too tight.

I called the vet while I was sitting there and he suggested that Nala just had an upset tummy and to give her immodium and watch her for the rest of the weekend. I am supposed to take her in on Monday if she is still in pain.

I never did get to the vet....and the dog seems just fine now. Whatever.

I still want to go back to 2005.