Who I Blame for my Home Computer Problems

I had fun yesterday!

 

Over the weekend Raynman, my hubby, complained he couldn't get on line with our laptop. Well, he can barely turn it on so...

 

But then, I couldn't get it to work either. Oh joy! We really did have a problem. Probably Comcast messing with us. 

 

I always blame my problems on Comcast. Even when I wander off in an ADD-ish fog and leave the bacon to burn.

 

So yesterday morning I decided to tackle the issue before I started work on the overly complicated process of getting images to work in a Createspace template.

 

I was already geared up to have a migraine, and had both my coffee and a bottle of Bayer Back and Body sitting next to the computer. I know, coffee will give you a headache, but I get headaches if I don't have my coffee, so don't go there with me.

 

Anyway! I spent ALL FREAKIN' MORNING trying to figure out what was going on. It kept saying the proxy server wasn't responding.

 

I finally Googled it, then went through another hour of confused computer geek gibberish until someone SANE wrote... "uncheck the proxy box." So, I unchecked the box and yep. It works! Life is good once again. Now all I have to do is find someone SANE to tell me how to deal with my Createspace image issues.

Breakfast Fail

Why I Won't Buy My Cats a Treat They Love

I love my cats too much to give them a well-known treat they love.

I'm talking about Halo's Liv-A-Littles. I received this product in chicken flavor to review a couple months ago. It came in a cute package, appealing to me the consumer. Inside the shapes looked...weird.

They were huge white chunks that broke into pieces and crumbled way too easily. I knew this because the bottom of the cute container had a lot of dust.

Paw Prints from Heaven

“Who’s your buddy?” I asked my husband on Valentine’s Day, 1994.

A young male tabby sat in our driveway, watching Ray chop down an oleander bush that made him break out in a rash every time he brushed against it. The tabby had appeared seemingly out of no where, and yet there was something familiar about him. For that story, read Celebrating Buddy.

On June 18, 2013, at age 22, Buddy had a stroke and took his last breath. Despite his age, his passing caught me by surprise. I wasn’t ready for him to die. There were things we still needed to do together. Like take another nap in the sun. Lie on our backs in the grass while gazing up at the puffy white clouds dotting the summer blue sky. Stroll down the driveway to inspect the frogs that lived in the drain pipe. Those type of things that Buddy enjoyed.

But there was one thing I still needed to do, for me. And I never did it. I kept putting it off because I was caught up in my obsession to finish writing a novel that ultimately got shelved anyway. Caught up in problems that belonged to others because I was asked for help. Caught up in the upside down, sing-song world of Attention Deficit Disorder, which amounts to over-committing and spreading myself too thin.

What did I put off? What did I keep telling myself that there was time…I’d get to it later?

Lover's Lane for Raccoons

Our backyard is now the Official Lover's Lane for raccoons. They are courting and fornicating like rabbits! Never saw that in the seven years they’ve been hanging around our home, so I guess that means our yard is now the number one safe place to raise babies.

The raccoons born last year are now on their own, and show up after dark for their supper. They huddle by my porch door and peek in through the windows, looking for me. Last night Herman was nose to nose with one who was craning his neck to look around his royal floofy-ness to find me. When I stepped outside with a bowl full of kibble, the youngster stood on his back legs and walked toward me with his paws outstretched.

He clearly recalled the cookies I gave him the night before. So after I tossed the kibble onto the lawn, I went back inside for a few more cookies. He was waiting expectantly by the door.

Helen the Blind Baby Raccoon

I love raccoons almost as much as I love cats. For the past seven years my yard has been used by raccoons to raise their families and escape the sometimes dangerous heat of Mid-South summers. I provide a couple kid-size pools, dog food, treats, and in return, they respect my trash bin and drive away poisonous snakes.

My relationship with the raccoons has always been positive. They know me and I know them well enough to name them. Sometimes during the harsh days of summer I will find several of them waiting for me on the porch. When I step outside with a bin of dog kibble, they gather around my feet and "escort" me down the slope to the back of my yard that butts up against a tree-lined creek. There I scatter kibble on the grass and also in the pool for those who enjoy eating and bathing at the same time.

Every year when the mother's bring their babies to my yard, the real show begins. My neighbors on either side invite their friends to watch the tiny brown balls of fluff as they follow their mom's around the yard, eating kibble and other snacks donated by neighbors. Throughout the summer into fall, the babies learn to trust me, and by early winter, when they are old enough to be on their own, they continue to return, as taught by their mothers. And, as Mother Nature intends, they soon bring their babies to my yard...and the cycle continues.

The most memorable raccoon of them all is a baby I named Helen. I discovered she was both blind and deaf when I approached with food and her siblings ran for the woods, and she did not. I could slide food right under her nose, and she had no idea I was there. Her nose was in perfect working order, however. She loved peanut butter sandwiches.

Often I saw her sitting by the kiddie pool, where the critters got their water, eating kibble…alone. The size of a basketball, she would have been easy pickings for a dog or whatever to kill her. When I spied a stray yellow lab eating kibble by the pool, I knew time was running out. I had to do something.

Operation Winter Cat Shelter - Part Two

 

Jesse demonstrates tub house

Providing shelter for my formerly stray outdoor cats is a priority for me. As I mentioned in Part One, I put aside items throughout the year that I think will come in handy for the shelters. I make two sets: one inside my fenced yard where Chauncie Marie lives, and the other overlooking the open yard where a larger fur family of 5 resides. Let me preface the following by saying up front: It ain't pretty, but it does the job.

We begin by framing the back patio with extra large construction tarps, ceiling to floor. The north winds are strong, and create a whole lotta misery for me and the cats when they tear down tarp walls in the middle of the night. We now buy the kind with grommets and both tie and nail them into place. We also anchor the bottom with cider blocks, also tied into place.