Roll Over, Play Dead, Good Dog,

Sometimes, most of the time, not.  Ziggy the wonder dawg got under foot last night. Literally, and of course I did my best impression of a swan dive, a dying swan.

Note to self, concrete patios are harder than the grass. Second note to self, glasses are not good shock absorbers.

Ziggy was unharmed, she even came over to check on me.  Luckily for me nothing broken so I guess it’s all OK.

dum vita est spes est

Warm wash, cool iron, NOT!!!

Did you ever notice the disturbing trend to idiot proof our society? I mean like really, who is going to use a lawn mower to trim the tops of hedges.  And I used to think normal sane people knew not to use electrical apparatus in the bath.

Now with clothing they might be on to something. I mean it!  Took me 40 years of doing laundry to figure out that washing everything in super hot water wasn’t the best of ideas.  Of course my son got a lot of new shirts.

I don’t quite understand the concept of a cool iron, near as I can tell mine has three settings, off, burn the hell out your bare skin, and instance scorch marks or melted cloth. Maybe a cool iron is one that looks good.  Of course if I was to say, “that iron looks good in your hands baby”, I might get said iron upside my head.

Any, the gist of the comment is that I looked at my key fob, that lil doohickey I use to unlock, lock, and start my truck with. And guess what?, unlike my fine Hawaiian shirts, there are no laundry instructions.

That’s right, nowhere does it caution on the proper means to wash one.  Turns out I did, just in the regular laundry load.  Of course when I took it out of the washer I knew better than to dry it. I remember what that can do to shirts, promotes wrinkles and such, and I didn’t want a wrinkled key fob.

Now fast forward to about 1AM.  I hear the truck locking itself, you know, two short beeps. And seeing as how I’m all snuggled up in bed, seems strange.  Wow there it goes again, maybe something/someone is robbing me, but at least they are locking up after themselves.

Shoot fire, I don’t even grab one of the many bang sticks or hand held hole punching devices at arm’s length. I just get up in my BVDs and wander out to the driveway to see what’s going on.

Beep Beep! Lock and unlock, only now I’m standing in the beams of the headlights in me BVDs. Guess I‘ll head back in the house.

Must have hurt’s it’s feelings, the  “ they’re breaking in to me!!!”. alarm commences to go off.  And seeing how my neighbor lady’s bedroom is right there about 10 feet away, I quickly realize I need to do something, like take the damn thing apart and take out the battery.

And just in case other neighbors haven’t been sufficiently warned, Ziggy the wonder dwag commences to run to and fro barking up a storm raising the alarm.

I went back in, locked the door and turned off the lights.

dum vita est spes est  

I hate charley

I do, I hate charley. That insidious bastard keeps popping up, My brother is now preparing for his battle. He is better prepared and just as anxious to kick charleys ass to the curb.

At least he saw what I had to do and that's helping a bit.  The battle is a personal thing that is not fought alone, but with the support and encouragement of friends, family and care givers.

As he will soon find out, Dr appointments are like seeds in a fertile field, they are going to sprout up everywhere.

But he is not going to be fighting this without a tremendous amount of support, I owe him big time for the support he gave me in my battle and now I get to pay it back.

After much consideration, he has decided the best way to chronical his trail and tribulations is with a blog. 

Visit it as it gets underway

 http://pvadamsupdates.blogspot.com/

charley has once again messed up, bro Paul is a former Marine and I do believe he is going to enjoy this fight, The ass kicking can begin.

Until this battle is won, I am putting my catch phrase on hold,

 Laissez les bon temps roulez will be back until then it's 

dum vita est spes est