Day 47: Dogfights, Lots of Blood, and a Firewatch

On a Saturday in mid-April, my sweet little Ghoulie-Bug started getting cranky, which is a dog owner's

Ghoulie, letting Ghost
use her as a pillow.

diplomatic word for aggressive, snarling and lunging at the little boy across the street and his teensy Dachshund  puppy.  Eight days later she started an all-out fight with Ghost.  Poor old Ghost defended herself at first, then ran, whereupon Ghoulie started to chase her until I managed to get my hand around her collar and yank her back.  We went out for a serious training walk later that day, at which point she snarled and lunged at the couple across the street and their toddler (who was thankfully in Mom's arms).  As a result Ghoulie is segregated from all humans except for those she solidly knows, and we have a vet appointment in a week and a half to see if there's some medical reason behind this-- thyroid, right eye bugging her to the point of needing to be removed, something.  I'm afraid to type here that things have been quiet since then, because the Universe might hear me and kick me in the butt.

A couple of nights ago blood mysteriously appeared along the upstairs hallway wall in a broken double line, swooping slightly upward at dog-shoulder level, ending in a tiny double-dot pattern about a foot away.  Three full-body inspections later revealed nothing-- all dogs are fine, no bites, no bumps, no blood.  Hmmm.

Dad, pre-clay pot.

Last Saturday my 83-year-old Dad fell while carrying a flat of moss roses and a clay pot across the parking lot to his apartment complex.  He went face-first into the pot, gifting himself with 17 staples in his scalp, 7 stitches above his right eyebrow, and an unknown number of stitches in his left ear to piece it back together; he also peeled the skin off both elbows and the back of his left hand.  I think he came out of this looking worse than he had after being an infantryman in the Korean war.

I have been eating a lot of vegetarian meals because, let's face it, meat is hard to prepare for an anti-cooking person.  I'm not afraid of meat preparation, but neither am I particularly fond of it.  So far-- wait for it-- I have not lost any weight.  Go figure.

And finally, just for sh*ts, giggles, and a sense of How the hell did THAT happen? I got in trouble at work today over a four-sentence telephone conversation that lasted no more than ten seconds and ended with the other person hanging up on me.  Go figure x 2.

A CNN news screenshot from June 2011.

Yesterday afternoon a firewatch alert went out because the winds are expected to pick up to 20 mph with up to 40 mph gusts, with an accompanying drop in humidity levels to single-digits.  I know I live in the desert, but isn't that Sahara-worthy or something?  For God's sake, I just found the wedding picture I lost during our double evacuation in June of 2011.   I'll be waiting for my hair to ignite.

The weekend approaches.  Alas, so does my __th birthday (::ahem::).


As they say in Internet-Speak:  FML.