good trait or bad...

After years of introspective analysis, I’ve determined that I’m tolerant.


tol-er-ant adj. 1. showing the capacity for endurance; 2. showing respect for the rights or opinions or practices of others; 3. tolerant and forgiving under provocation; 4. showing or characterized by broad-mindedness.

Many times in my life I’ve been at a crossroads. I’ve had to make a decision. Once that decision has been made, I’ll stick by it and see it through. But this doesn’t mean that there aren’t times that I wish I could go back and perhaps react differently, say something, stand up or run away…but different than what it is that I’ve actually done.

Growing up, in our home, we learned tolerance. We learned acceptance. We learned consideration. We took others thoughts and feelings and many times placed them above our own. Not that we didn’t stand behind our convictions, mind you, but just that if others had opposing thoughts or theories, we never criticized or disparaged their views. We listened. We might debate, but we still listened.

We got all the facts before jumping on any band wagon or cause. We didn’t rock the boat. I wonder if I had grown up in a family that automatically jumped and then apologized later if wrong, if I would have a different approach to life. And in turn, things in my life would have turned out differently?

Once when visiting my parents, a friend came along with me for the drive. Carol had a new kitten and although it would have been fine left alone for a few hours, Carol wanted to bring it with us on my pilgrimage home to Sylvania. Cats don’t like cars. They make horrible guttural sounds. The drive is 2 hours long. I was about to lose my mind.

At my parents’ house, the cat had free reign. We were at the dining room table and this cat, whom I’m decided is most definitely possessed, is laying track through the family room, the kitchen, the dining room, the living room, the foyer and then back around all over again. And again. On one of its rotations it leapt up onto my brothers back, made a sharp 90 degree turn and grabbed onto my mother’s formal draperies directly behind him.

My brothers face was in pain. You could tell it hurt. His eyes were watering, his lips drawn tight, his shoulders now contorted into odd angles. But not a sound came from him. He didn’t cry out. He didn’t scream…although you could tell he most definitely wanted to. But that would be impolite. We were at the dinner table after all.

My mother spent weeks, months even picking out the right silk and having them made for their house. To see this kitten hanging with its claws halfway in the middle of these draperies…well, it didn’t please my mother. But this was a guests pet. She wouldn’t have said anything. That would be impolite.

Carol got up and removed her cat, as carefully as possible from the drapes, but even where I sat you could see the small tears that those little claws made. You could see the little drops of blood pooling on my brothers shirt where those little claws had been. But we just took it in stride and passed the brussel sprouts.

That’s tolerance.

My mother would offer the devil himself lemonade if he appeared on her doorstep. She was tolerant.

Recently my tolerance was tested. A woman that my family has known through church for years has tested it. And my dad. My dad has been on a kick to ‘clean house’ since my mother died. She wasn’t like on the television shows, but she did have a tendency to be a mild hoarder. My dad would throw away mail or newspapers and my mother would retrieve them, put them in a brown Krogers bag and stick it in one of the spare rooms to ‘take a look at later’. Sometimes later never came. And by that time there were 3 more bags of the Blades newspaper Peach section for her to look at before it was deemed ‘ok’ to throw out. It’s the 2 steps forward 1 step back syndrome. This went on for years.

When my mother was ill and at home, she thought that people were taking her things. And in truth, they were. My father never disturbed her ‘bags of things’ when she was 100%. He wouldn’t dare, although you knew it had bothered bothered him for years. But with her not running at full capacity, he thought this the perfect time to do something about it.

He had the cleaning lady start removing the bags from the spare room. Pretty soon she went onto the other storage space. And the hallway closet. And the eaves.

After my mom died, I went through her belongings. Icleared our her closet space. Some of her dresses I wanted to keep. The purple silk Schrader Sport dress that she wore to school when teaching was one of my favorites. It just looks like her. I wanted to keep that one. Her dressing gown that still smells like her. I wanted to keep that too. I wanted to keep some of the beautiful costume jewelry, and all her fine jewlery items. And some of the dressy gowns that I knew would make fun dress up costumes for Boo in the future. I don’t necessarily have that much room in my own home, but I transferred the items of mention into the closet in my room at my parents house.

My dad and I had an agreement. Louise, the cleaning lady, can go anywhere she wants in the house and take anything out…but no one is to go in my room. I mean, you can go IN my room, just don’t go through anything in my room or remove stuff. There are items in my closet that belonged to my grandmother. Some stuff that belonged to Grandpa. My wedding dress was in there and my graduation dresses from high school and college. I used to collect vintage cashmere coats with ¾ sleeves. My collection of those and the antique hats were in there as well.

There were lots of really cool things in my closet.

They are no longer there.

At my mothers funeral, Gigi and her husband Bob attended. I personally don’t like Gigi OR Bob, but I’m tolerant. Gigi’s a busybody. Both she and her husband do not do anything without knowing that somewhere, someone will say, “Oh…that Gigi and Bob! What good people! What good Christians they are!!!!” I call bullshit. People shouldn’t do good deeds for the accolades they might and expect to receive. They should do it because it’s the right and good thing to do.

Gigi and Bob took aspirin and over the counter medications to South America on a mission trip. They like to tell people about it. To gain a listening ear, hear their voice congratulating themselves and get sympathy because of the hardship they endured while trying to ‘do good’. Whatever.

Gigi was a deacon at my parents church. She liked the recognition. Actually, she loved the recognition. It made her feel important. She busybodied herself into a place of importance when the church was between pastors. Once the new pastor arrived, he thanked Gigi for her service and her input, but she was no longer needed. She didn’t like that. So she left the church, in a huff. Gigi isn’t quiet about her thoughts of the new minister. It’s not good. And personally, I really like the new guy…the sermon he gave at my mother’s funeral was most amazing. It was moving. Most in attendance were in tears. It was a beautiful tribute to my mothers life.

Afterwards, Gigi and Bob were in the foyer. I stopped and thanked them for coming. I was raised tolerant. They wanted to talk…a lot. I tried to excuse myself.

“Gigi, Bob. Why don’t you join us for the luncheon? The ladies of the church have been busy; please join us in the fellowship hall.” I asked them, gesturing towards the other wing of the church.

“Oh no. I couldn’t. I can’t be in the same room with that man...”, Gigi responded with disdain in her voice. (She was talking about the minister.) “Because of him, we had to leave our church home.”

Now….this is bullshit as well. They didn’t have to leave. They chose to leave. They didn’t feel as if they were getting the right amount of attention for all their “good deeds”. Bah.

At this point, I’m mad. But I’m tolerant, so I don’t say anything. But DO NOT use my mother’s funeral as a platform to gain sympathy for yourself. Please. So these are my thoughts about Gigi and Bob.

I bet at this point you wonder, 'What does this have to do with her closet?'

Gigi’s daughter, who apparently is a self deemed expert at garage sales, resale shops and the likes, is in town from Tennessee. Somehow Gigi has filled my dad’s ear with her daughters skills and he invited them over to help sort through things for potential garage sale, resale shop or Goodwill. Where did they go? My closet.

This woman and her daughter went through all my things. Packed them all up and took them away.

All the stuff that I’ve saved over the years? It’s all gone. Why? Because of a woman whom I abhor.

My dad said that they told him there were some valuable items. No shit. And now they are gone.
I’m mad.

I’m mad at my dad for reneging on a promise to not allow anyone into my room. In his overzealous efforts to 'clean house', there are items lost that cannot be replaced.

I’m mad at Gigi for thinking it was okay to the rest of the family members to take MY belongings and those of MY mother and MY grandmother out of the house. What possibly could she have been thinking? Why wouldn't she double check before running off with my wedding dress, and my mothers wedding dress?

I suppose they are just items. Stuff. Clutter.

But they were MY items. To be sorted through and given away at MY discretion. Not Gigi and Bob and her daughter. Not even my dad. Had I known what he was planning, I would have removed everything long ago…but I didn’t know that my room was no longer my room. I didn’t know that anything left at the house where I grew up and what belongings I left behind would become rummage sale items. I just didn’t know.

And now I’m pissed. And I’m mad.

And I’m still damn tolerant.

I SHOULD call and give her a piece of MY own Christian mind for imposing on my belongings. But I haven’t, because that would be impolite. So I am presently choking on my horse sized tolerant pill.

I’ve done it before and lived, so I assume I can live through this as well.

Did I ever mention way back when I was married, I awoke from a deep sleep to hear my Land Rovers engine idling in my driveway? After looking at the clock and seeing it was past midnight, I went down to see what was going on. My then husband was in my car. There was a woman in my car. He said he couldn’t find his wallet and thought he had left it in his car. He was giving this gal a ride home, or downtown or somewhere, I can't remember. The excuse seemed lame at the time. It's still lame today. I was in my nightshirt with no shoes, no makeup, and the baby sleeping upstairs. I asked who she was and what she was doing in my car. Her response was to my ex, "I told you not to drive up the driveway." What?

Turns out it was his mistress.
But I didn’t learn that until over a year later.

I should have insisted she get out of my car.
I should have insisted that my husband turn off the engine and go back in the f*ing house.
I should have screamed, or thrown a tantrum, or been a bitch.
I should have done something.

But I didn’t.

I was tolerant.
What a great attribute to have….
Bah.

But this morning is a glorius morning! I'm leaving soon to go pick up Boo from camp. I feel enlightened. I feel good. Today...there are going to be some internal changes for Nancy. I can be tolerant, but I don't have to be silent.

And I have Gigi's phone number.
Yup. Today is going to be a glorius day...God help her.
:-)





Update:  5:45pm...I talked to my dad. He assured me that he will do everything that he can to see if he can get the items back. He apologized for not understand OUR understanding. He said that he didn't know there was anything in there that I would want, or wanted, or did want. I don't quite believe that. I think a little of it is lip service...but hey, I guess he's trying. He's never been good at admiting to wrong or apologizing.

Gigi and Bob? Or Gibob (as Julie named them!) They didn't answer the phone. I was very polite, yet firm, with the message I left. I let her know that I was displeased...VERY displeased that she and her daughter went through my personal belongings. I let her know that I was indeed incredibly disturbed by the fact that they would have the audacity to ASSUME that wedding dresses could/would not be of any significance...and take them away. I asked to have anything that they removed from the house returned.

I'm not sure if they will call me back or not. I'm going to assume they will call my dad and deal with him instead of me. Oh....but I did also call and vent about this to my brother. He does not like Gibob either, and now his view is even less of them. He is going to see what HE can do about this as well. There is a crawl space behind my closet that has many of HIS things in there. If they got to his stuff? In comparison, my verbal attack will be nothing....
:-)

Oh, and Boo is back, sunburnt and very, very tired. But had a wonderful week. She's like the Pet Detective in ALL the animals in the house are presently trying to see who can get closest to her.

a little Pitt-y party...

I’m beside myself.

Easy to do as a Gemini, there are usually two of us at all times. Invite one and it’s automatically a party. But no, this is no regular party. This is a pity party. Or a Pitt-y party to be perfectly correct.

Boo’s at summer camp this week. She's in Pitt cabin this year. Third time return camper, she’s old hat at this camp thing. No more ‘missing Mommy’ sessions, it’s more of a ‘yeah. Got it…time for you to GO.’

It’s not that bad, but still. I can’t help but see that she’s grown up quite a bit since I took her to her first residential summer camp two years ago. That year I didn’t make it out of the parking area before tears welled up and I had to pull over because I couldn’t see.

One whole week of no contact. No phone calls. No mail. No nothing.

I awoke this early this morning with the flashes of heat lightening illuminating my bedroom. I immediately reached for my cell phone on my nightstand. I’ve got the Weatherbug App on it and have Camp Tippecanoe programmed in to monitor the weather in that area. Camp Tippecanoe is about 115 miles south of here. It’s been unusually hot this past week and I lamented signing her up for camp in July. Seemed like a good idea a few months ago, plus it fit into the rest of the busy summer schedule…but July? It’s usually the hottest in July! What was I thinking? It’s supposed to stay humid and in the high 80's and 90’s all week. There is no air conditioning. How will they manage? Is it raining there? Is it too hot to sleep on that upper bunk? Leslie, the cabin counselor, had said when I emerged from the cabin sweating after helping Boo unpack her things said that one of their fans broke and she was hoping to get a new one. With that info, instead of heading back home perhaps I should have located the closest Wal-mart and brought one back for them.

But they're kids. It probably won't bother her. I shouldn't worry.

As I looked at my phone I saw that not only was a storm approaching Lakewood, but that there was a storm front moving swiftly in on the Little Town of Tippecanoe as well. I wonder if she'll remember where I put her poncho? I left it in the duffle bag. I thought that perhaps by leaving it packed away I was creating a positive mojo to keep it from raining during her week at camp. Doesn’t look like that plan worked. But perhaps the rain will bring down the temperatures.

Camp Tippecanoe is run by the YMCA. I like that it is a rustic camp. It’s not very built up, located on an undeveloped lake in Stark County. They have all the amenities that they need; running water, flush toilets, electricity…roofs. But they are secluded enough to be part of the wilderness. Or as much wilderness as they want. But no cell phones, no Nintendos, no TV’s, no iPods. This is about camping and bonding with new friends.

It’s considered an Adventure camp. They have horses, swimming, archery and hiking. There are old Indian caves and acres and acres and acres of woods. To get there you follow a gravel road that isn’t located on my cars GPS. It winds you higher and higher into the rolling hills of Ohio around a large meandering reservoir. There is no cell signal once you leave the county road. Actually, even on the county road there is no cell signal. Even my satellite radio lost its oomph 20 miles from camp.

I went to an Adventure camp when I was a kid. I remember it well. For many years I went there. I looked forward to the two weeks spent each summer. Camp Todemeka was even more rustic than Camp Tippecanoe. We slept in covered wagons or teepees. We cooked our own food. We would order the food that we desired from a list and each day they would deliver our daily meal plan. But we wee campers were responsible for our own meals. Cooked over an open fire, no less. We all had ‘kitchen’ duty for meals and if you burned the bacon for breakfast?…well, everyone ate burnt bacon. There were some times that we had to wait for the next meal to get anything somewhat passable to eat. But that was the fun of it.

I’ve felt a little lost since I dropped Boo off on Sunday. I didn’t cry coming home this time. I waited until the morning when I realized I couldn’t wake her as I usually do. The fact that I can’t talk to her makes me want to hear her voice all the more. I've felt very vunerable and emotional these past few days, constantly on the verge of tears.

Some of it I’m sure has to do with missing the Bear. But I’ve been thinking of my mom a lot lately as well. The feeling of not being able to talk to Boo has brought back the feeling I had when I could no longer talk to mom every day. After her last stroke, she lost her ability to communicate…so I couldn’t just call like always when I wanted to hear her voice. It was horrible. Prior to that stroke I spoke to my mom every single day on the phone and I no longer could.

This afternoon I took a nap in Boos bed. Why? Because I could. I didn’t have anything else on the schedule this afternoon. The way I feel presently, it’s an amazing feat that I even showered or got somewhat dressed. But I also did it because the sheets smell of her. It gave me a little comfort. Made me miss her a little less.

While lying there with my eyes closed I saw my mom’s face, like it was hanging above me. It made me cry. It’s a year to the date that we got the first of several “she may not make it through the night’ calls. I remember leaving home immediately to be at her side. She was a fighter, my mom, and she wasn’t quite ready. At least that time. But she deteriorated fast and died on the 20th. That date is fast approaching. I try not to think about it but some invisible time clock inside me must know that. So I’ve been schmeeshy.

Bear’s camp has an online thing called BunkNotes. Since they’ve no mail there, you can bring mail to be delivered each day at dinner or send e-mails that they print out and give to the campers. I brought notes and cards so she’ll get one each day. The one that will be delivered at dinner today is a music card blaring the Hampster Dance. That should bring a smile to her face. Enclosed in the envelope is a new whoopi cushion that she can terrorize the counselors for the rest of the week. I’m sure she’ll put that to good use. Bear’s cabin mates will be glad that her mom thinks up such things ahead of time. They are allowed a care package on Wednesday. I decorated a big box for her and filled it with goodies to share. That should make up for the whoopi cushion debacle I’ll have created. (amongst others) Hopefully Bears fellow campers and the counselors won't egg me when I come on Saturday to pick her up.

Bunk notes posts photos taken of the campers doing daily activities. So I’ve seen Bear busy being a tie-dyed Ninja, whatever the heck that is. Between stalking the Weatherbug page and Bunk Notes, it makes me feel like I kindof know what’s going on down there with my Booest. Makes me a little less antsy. A little more connected. Slightly closer even though we both know it's miles and miles away.

The parent handbook suggests to hold off on the ‘Miss you terribly' messages so they don’t get the midweek 'I want to go home. I miss my mom' scenerios. They say that it’s usually the parents are child sick, not the kids being home sick. I get that. And I’m feeling it.

I am full fledged child sick.

So I’m having a pity party, or Pitt-y party, with both of my Gemini sides. I’m left here wanting to talk to my kid and my mom and unable to do either. Some might celebrate being kid free for a week, but I’ve no desire to go out. I’m going to see if I can last the week without dressing in anything but yoga pants and tees. I’ve a nightstand of books I’ve been wanting to read, but have been unable to find the time.

Now I have the time, but not the desire to delve in. Perhaps I should check to see if they’ve posted new photos instead? Bah. Turn off the computer to stop watching the camp from Google Earth and monitoring to see if BunkNotes has posted new pictures that might give me a glipse of the Booest. Oh, and shut off that weather app. As if knowing that it rained .26 inches and is 73% humidity with a heat index of 88 degrees with a south west wind of 5mph is going to help at all.

Camp Tippecanoe is Bears stepping stone into being independent of her mom.

Now, if I can learn to become independent of my Bear…
:-)

grace under pressure...

A big THANK YOU to Pam and Sandy of Words of Wisdom for honouring me by naming me as a Blog of Note! If you've not checked out Words of Wisdom, you should. By nomination, they review blogs and then highlight them on their own blog. It's a grand way to find new reading material and revisit old friends of the blogosphere!

Join the conversation!

I've been blogging for a little over a year. It's been great fun meeting so many people all over the world. I'm pleased to call many of my new aquaintances 'friend'. It started one frosty winter morning talking with one of my best friends on the phone. "Nance....you should start a blog.", Christine told me. "I did. You'd love it." And you know what? She was right. I do.

And I'm glad that YOU do too! Thank you to all of those that have been with me from the beginning and those just coming on board. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Also,  a big thanks to Leah Rubin of Funny is the New Young for nominating me for this awesome award! It's truly good to have friends...
:-)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I sat down.
For a just a moment.

I decided to take a little time for myself since no one was home and not expected back for a few hours. I made myself a highball and put in a movie rented from Blockbuster that’s been sitting on the bureau for weeks. And sat down. It was heavenly.

Not the movie.
Not the highball. Although it wasn’t all bad.

But the sitting down just for a little while.
Forgetting that the garbage needs to be taken out, the yard mowed, the dishwasher unloaded, the laundry put away. I still have on my list to re-paint Boo’s bathroom…I could get that done in this block of time, but no. I’m just going to plant myself on the couch and watch a film, of my choice, by myself, for a change.

As I sat there, I wondered if this is how my parents felt. The weight of all this responsibility. Always having a 'to do' list running in the back of their minds. Too much to do and not enough time to do it in. The burden of having a family and running a home. Maintaining schedules. Making sure that everything is in place at all times.

My mother always had everything under control, but she was not controlling. She never, ever showed any distress. She never got caught unprepared when guests were arriving. She had everything planned days in advance. I never looked in the refrigerator for a snack and was unable to find anything. Our fridge wasn’t full of processed packaged foods…it was stocked with things that my mom made full well knowing that we would be sticking our heads in the ice box after school looking for something to eat.

As a high school teacher, her schedule mimicked ours. But also as a teacher, we usually got home before she did. She taught at a downtown Toledo public school. We lived in the suburbs of Sylvania. It wasn’t far, but we usually would be home at least an hour before she pulled in the driveway.

I grew up with an outstanding role model and at the time really didn’t know it. Just like everything else in my bubble, even though my mind knows differently, I forget…and think everyone is like me. That everyone's parents were like mine. That everyone had what I had. That everyone went on vacations. That everyone had to learn to play piano. That everyone had Saturday chores to complete before being able to play with friends.

I remember being in school and wishing that we lived in the development down the street. I had many friends from school that lived there. That seemed so cool at the time, all those houses close together on curved roads. Cul-de-sacs seemed to be the golden place to live. How neat to be able to ride yours bike in circle all day long. They had sidewalks. Their houses were close together so you could cover more ground at Halloween. You could talk between windows with cans tied with string.

We lived on several acres of land. My neighbors had several acres, and the next neighbor had several acres. Our lots were very deep and wooded in the back. The woods all connected and we rode our bikes and mini-bikes through the trails we forged. At Halloween we had miles to cover since the houses were far apart. But everyone gave out full sized candy bars, roasted hot dogs and apples to bob for all the children in costumes.

My friends in the developments wanted to come to my house to play. I wanted to go to theirs.

That is my first memory of the 'grass is greener' syndrome.

But now, as I’m older, I appreciate more what I had as I was growing up. My dad was the provider. My mother was the ultimate homemaker. She worked and ran the house. Growing up I hung equally with both my parents. My dad taught me how to properly use tools, fix things, garden. My mother taught me how to plan and cook meals, iron shirts and balance the checkbook. My ex-husband said I was Bob Villa and Martha Stewart wrapped into one. And I was. Am.

I can have a meal cooking and go out to lop down and tree and split the wood for a fire by time dinners done. Paint a room while the soufflé is rising. Run for a quick manicure while the laundry is on spin cycle.

I’ve become my mom. And my dad. With a bit of Nancy thrown in as a twist.

I appreciate my parents more now than I ever did. My mom was a gem. My dad, too. Grace under pressure. That’s what they both taught me. What an amazing lesson that I’m still trying to perfect. Do your best. Plan ahead. Don't get caught unprepared. Smile.

How did they do it? Are things that much faster now? I think so. The lazy days of summer you see in movies are long gone. Now is the time of schedules. Blackberry picking is about choosing a cell phone, not of gathering materials for a pie. I wish things were just a tad slower in pace. To take some time sipping sweet tea on the hammock. Relaxing shouldn’t just happen on vacation. It should be something implemented into daily life, before daily life passes us by. Quite an epiphany.

So I sat down.

I plugged in a movie I’ve been waiting to watch when I had the time and I made the time. I enjoyed it.

Not the movie.
Or the highball.
But the time spent doing nothing...

:-)





Footnote: Thanks to both my mom and my dad for all their support over the years. I'd never be where I am without their love. I'll even add in there my big bro'. No matter what happens in the future...I know that I'm a pretty lucky gal to have had them all in my life...

it's not the breed...

It’s not just a face a mother (or owner) could love.

It’s a face that constantly exudes abounding joy, uncompromising love,  and unending slobber…usually delivered all at the same time.

I was surfing the internet the other night, trolling some of my favorite blogs, catching up on some news and a posting caught my eye. On lovelakewood.com, an update was given on some of the latest happenings in my city.

Lovelakewood is a great source of local information. Linked to the police blotter, it can keep you updated on all the crime in the area. The blog side of this site highlights some of the goings on in non-police pdf. blotter form. It's interesting stuff that usually doesn't get picked up by the news. This particular post listed all those with outstanding property taxes listed (amazing!). A lawsuit against Calanni Auto Service because they have a tendency to not return your car to you (incredible!). Police notified about several buildings stripped of the copper plumbing (unbelieveable!). A building demolished after being considered a neighborhood nuisance (so sad!).

But then in two lines, the author of this blog (who is a Lakewood resident as well), in a tongue in cheek way, managed to upset me with his coy delivery of an news item. I'm sure it was unintentional, but still upset me nonetheless.

I quote ‘There was another report of an 'it’s-not-a-pit-bull-it’s-an-american-bulldog' situation. Sounds familiar.’

Last year I wrote a blog post about Otis. I posted the video (which is hard to watch…) where the police tasered this dog. Several times. The City of Lakewood demanded Otis to be removed from the City limits or they would destroy the dog. The owner provided results of  DNA testing showing that Otis was indeed not a pit bull. The City refused the findings. It made National headlines. People were riled up. The owner eventually made a deal with the city and moved away.

On March 19th, former Lakewood resident Lenard Shelton has brought a lawsuit against the city because he feels he was subjected to undue scrutiny and harassment from police when he would walk his dog. The police think it’s a pit bull. He claims it’s a Boston Terrier mix. He provided DNA testing to prove that his dog is not a pit and the city refused those results as well. He moved to a neighboring city. Why? Because of  continued harassment and visits by police to his home threatening Mr. Shelton with criminal charges if he allowed his dog Rosco to remain in the city limits. He seeks $475,000 in damages.

There have been council meetings where residents have brought up that perhaps City of Lakewood employees should be schooled so they can identify, correctly, different breeds of dogs. The public safety guy was not pleased.

Lakewood banned pit bulls two years ago. Unless you lived here before that time and own a pit bull, you cannot register a dog with pit bull blood in any mix in the city. If you DO own a pit, you are required to provide a photo of your dog, copy of your homeowners liability insurance policy of not less than $100,000, provide proof that your dog has been micro-chipped, proof that your dog has been neutered or spayed, your dog must always be confined at all times and must be muzzled if walked in public. Oh, and the extra $50 for registering the dog.

All this is for dogs that have never had any history of violence.

506.03 PIT BULL dogs or Canary Dogs.


(a) All pit bull dogs and canary dogs (Perro de PresaCanario) are deemed to be dangerous animals even in the absence of a hearing by the Director of Public Safety or his or her designee.
(b) As used in this section, “pit bull dog” means any Staffordshire Bull Terrier, American Pit Bull Terrier or American Staffordshire Terrier breed of dog, any dog of mixed breed which has the appearance or characteristics of being predominately of such breeds, any dog commonly known as a piut bull, pit bull dog, or pit bull terrier; or a combination of any of these breeds.
(c) As used in this section “canary dogs” pr “Perro de PresaCanario Dogs” also include any dog of mixed breed which ahs the appearance of characteristic of bring predominatnly of such breed.
(d) In the event of a dispute as to whether a dog or not a dog is a pit bull dog, a canary dog, or some other breed, the Director of Public Safety or his or her designee shall make the determination without a hearing, and the burden of proof that such dog is not a put bull dog or canary dog shall be upon the owner or custodian.


506.10 Evidence
The Director of Public Safety or his or her designee may hear and consider relevant evidence offered by any person desiring to provide such evidence at a hearing to determine whether or not an impounded or confined animal is a dangerous animal or a vicious animal.
In making a determination as to whether or not such animal is a dangerous animal or a vicious animal, the following evidence may be considered:
Any previous history of the animal attacking, biting or causing injury to human beings or domestic animals
The nature and extent of all injuries inflicted and the number of victims involved
The place where the bite, attack or injury occurred
The presence of absence of any provocation for the bite, attack or injury
The extent to which clothing or other property was damaged or destroyed
Whether or not the animal exhibits any characteristic of aggressive or unpredictable temperament or behavior in the presence of human beings or domestic animals
The manner in which the animal has been trained, handled and maintained by its owner or custodian
Any other relevant evidence concerning the animal
Any other relevant evidence regarding the ability of the owner or custodian or the City to protect the public safety if the animal is permitted to remain in the City


506.04 Exception, Registration and Fee
Any owner of a dangerous animal as defined in Section 506.03 on the effective date of the ordinance who intends to keep such dangerous animal within the City of Lakewood shall have 90 days, from the effective date of this ordinance, to register such dangerous animal with the Director of Public Safety or his or her designee. The fee for such registration shall be $50.00. Registration shall take place annually thereafter. Registration shall include providing the name and contact information of the owner of the dangerous animal, the location where the dangerous animal shall be kept, and any other information deemed necessary to ensure the safety of the public by the Director of Public Safety or his or her designee. Registration shall be rejected and the dangerous animal shall be removed from the City of Lakewood if the owner fails to show proof annually of compliance with the following conditions:
**Summarized**


The dangerous animal must be implanted with a microchip, and the information contained on the microchip, must be maintained in a database by the Division of Animal Control along with a photograph of the animal
The animal must be spayed or neutered
The owner must obtain liability insurance for at least $100,000 for the entire period of registration
The animal, while on the premises of the owner or custodian, shall be confined indoors or in a securely enclosed pen or “dog run” with sides six feet high, imbedded at least one foot underground, and with a secured top
The animal, while off premises of its owner or custodian, shall be securely muzzled, leashed with a chain not longer than three feet (having tensile strength of not less than 300 pounds), under the control of a person eighteen years of age or older
Any government or utility company employee, and anyone else who comes on the property, shall be immediately informed of the animal’s dangerousness. The owner of the animal shall immediately notify the Director of Safety of any change made to the information on the registration


506.12 Disposition of Vicious Animals
Any animal designated by the Director of Public Safety or his or her designee, after a hearing, to be a vicious animal, if not already impounded by the City, shall be immediately surrendered to the Director of Public Safety or his or her designee, Animal Control Officer or a police officer.
Any animal declared by the Director of Public Safety or his or her designee, after a hearing, to be a vicious animal shall be humanely destroyed.
The Director of Public Safety or his or her designee shall issue an order authorizing the destruction of the vicious animal to take place not earlier than five days following the written decision by the Director of Public Safety or his or her designee designating the animal to be a vicious animal. If the owner or custodian of the vicious animal, within such period, files a notice of appeal of the Director of Public Safety or his or her designee’s decision with a court of competent jurisdiction, serves the Director of Public Safety or his or her designee with a copy of the notice of appeal and removes the animal from the City pending such appeal, the City shall stay the order of destruction, pending the appeal.


(Ord. 58-08. Passed 7-21-08.)

Lakewood is trying to become dog friendly. They recently have allowed people to walk their dogs in Lakewood Park. Lakewood Park is the main city park open to the public on the shores of Lake Erie. Since a council meeting back in 1973, dogs have not been allowed on park properties within the city limits. You can walk them on the sidewalks, but if you want to enjoy the park…leave your dog at home. No one has been able to determine why this was originally put into place. The council, when asked, would always support the ordinance because it was more cost effective for the city. It was “too expensive to put up signs and waste stations”.

Yet the city is in the process of a Clifton Boulevard revamp which will add a landscaped median (why?), improved lighting (no need), bus-coordinated traffic signalization (whoop de doo), new bus shelters (the ones there were put up 10 years ago and look fine), and a dedicated residential-side bus lane in each direction during rush hours. This is going to cost the city over $7-14 million dollars.

When asked about the need for medians, the answer was that would add a safety element to the roadway. It would give pedestrians a mid point to stop. No one I know has ever stopped halfway between a 7 lane thoroughfare. If you are crossing the street, you cross the street. Not stop in the middle for the next traffic light sequence! And if someone DID stop in the middle...don’t you think it would be distracting to drivers and create problems for the vehicles? Bah.

The most interesting part is that in each meeting about this beautifucation project, they stress over and over that ‘at this phase there is no expense for the City of Lakewood.’ Although if you go to see the budget planning, it shows that this study was indeed paid for already. To the tune of $765,000. Although again the refute the cost by saying it was from stimulus money. Really? We couldn’t do something else with three quarters of a million dollars except get a study to show us how to spend another 14 million?

I know, and I’m sure that everyone knows, no project is ever kept to budget. They started replacing pedestrian crosswalks with red brick. This was done at several stages. They would refinish the road with blacktop. Then come and cut the black top. They would then add the brick. Then the had to replace a sewer line and dug up both the brick and the pavement. They replaced the brick. They fixed the pavement. They are now adding these light poles which them damaged the brick and it has to be fixed again. When driving on the road it's uneven where it's been patched.

Does that make any sense?

Do the new Welcome to Lakewood signs really have to cost $10,000? Each? They want to replace all the current sandstone sidewalks. Granted, there are some that are in need a little repair…but it’s sandstone. It has character. It’s what all of Lakewood is about. Old with character. They are planning to remove and trash them all. Trust me, I once had an opportunity when they were diggin out some sandstone to do a repair I stopped to ask if I may have some that they were throwing away. They refused. He insisted that it HAD to be dumped into the dump truck, broken and trashed. ‘It was the policy.‘ he said. I’m sure that the city paid a pretty penny to have all that sandstone hauled out on a barge into Lake Erie and dumped as well. Why not let homeowners have their take at it and then dispose of the remainder? That would make sense.

But they would rather tear them all out and spend $810,000 (that's the estimate) to replace them with concrete. Supposedly this will help Lakewood remain in competition with it’s neighboring towns. Yes; Rocky River has a boulevard with a median. Yes; Bay Village has a median with plants. Yes; even Fairview Park has a median. Each of these cities had them in the first stages of city planning. They didn’t go to the expense of having this done after the fact. Especially during a recession. When unemployment still remains high, is it that necessary to spend $14 million of tax payers dollars? On a median and plants and new traffic lights and garbage cans and bus stops? On beautifucation?

If you go to the website, only 94 of the almost 55,000 people that live here commented in favor of this project.

But I’m on a tangent here. With all these project expenditures for the city, their excuse to not allow dogs into the park is “it’ll cost too much for signs”? Nonsense.

After the Otis incident, the council decided to do something to appease the upset pet owners in town. They did in fact put up signs and waste containers with bags for pet owners. It was never publicized. One day at the park I happened to see the sign. Prior to that viewing, I hadn’t a clue anything had changed.

“Hey Damian! I can NOW walk the dogs in the park!”

“Really? When did that change?”

“I haven’t any idea. But I saw the sign where I can leave the poo…if needed and took the pups in for a stroll. I DID get some nasty looks from others at the park. Apparently they don’t know you can walk your dogs here yet either.”

But it’s not just the cities view on dogs and dog breeds that has me again in an uproar. It’s the way people, like Mr. Davis, author of Lovelakewood.com present news that concerns dogs, dog owners and dog breeds. By putting ‘American Bulldog’ in the same negative connotation sentence with ‘Pit Bull’; people that don’t have knowledge of either breed first hand will automatically connect the two and thus think that an American Bulldog is vicious like a Pit.

Not all Pits are vicious. Nor are American Bulldogs.
It’s the Owners not the Breed that makes a dog vicious.

When buying or adopting a dog, people should be aware of the personalities of said dog they are bringing into their home. They should take into consideration their own personalities. If you are a couch potato and want a lap dog, do not get a working dog that needs extra exercise! If you want a dog to run and play Frisbee with, do not get a dog that is unable to physically carry out these tasks.

Dalmatian adoptions went sky-high when the Disney movie 101 Dalmatians was released in 1996. In 1997 and 1998 there was a dog pound glut of these dogs that their owners no longer wanted. In order to please their children, many people brought home these dogs not educated in how to care for a Dalmation. They abondonned them in shelters after becoming too big or too unruly. Sure the pups are adorable, but high energy and a bit skittish, they need lots of exercise and interaction. They didn’t think whether this breed would be a good fit for their household, they just liked the dogs ‘look’. When the movie 102 Dalmatians was released activists asked Disney to put a small statement at the beginning of the movie to discourage people from creating the same puppy glut that happened after 101 Dalmatians was in theaters.

I short term adopted my brothers puppy after the death of his wife. Arrow was a Border Collie. Extremely smart. Border Collies are herding dogs, they like to make sure they know where everyone is. I already had two big dogs (a Bovier and a Canadian Golden Retriever) so I knew that this 3 dog thing wasn’t going to last long, but I wanted to find a good home for Arrow.

When my parents were on vacation I told them I’d check in on the house. I took Arrow and Cameron (the golden) with me that afternoon. Cameron was a great dog, but he was one like in Assops fables where he lost his bone in the stream trying to get the bone from the dog reflection IN the stream. I was on the phone in the upstairs hallway, sitting and chatting with a friend that had called knowing I was in town. Both dogs had big bones to keep them busy. Cameron would routinely stop chewing on his bone and go over, push aside Arrow (who was a ¼ his size) and take his bone. Arrow would patiently give his bone up and then go over, take the original bone Cameron had and start chewing. Cameron after a time would then go over and push aside Arrow, take his bone and lay down. This happened about three times when finally as Cameron approached Arrow, Arrow ran to the top of the stairs and tossed the bone down the staircase. Cameron went lumbering down after the fallen bone, Arrow turned and grabbed the other one and laid down happily chewing away.

Had I not seen the “FACE!” that Arrow gave the bigger, yet obviously less intelligent dog….I wouldn’t have believed it. “You want the bone, dummy? Go get it.” You could see it in Arrows eyes what he thought of this big dumb dog. It was priceless.

I want to protect MY American Bulldog. He is not a pit bull and I hate that people are prejudicing him.
Yes; he has a big head. Yes; he can be intimidating if you are afraid of dogs. Yes; he will slobber on you if you allow him too. But my cat is more ferocious than my dog. My dog can’t sleep at night if he isn’t tucked under the blankets just so. He’s a big baby, my American Bulldog. So I would appreciate it if people like Anthony Davis not use his name in a counterproductive way.

I couldn’t find any thing on the internet to substantiate the news of ‘it’s-not-a-pit-it’s-an-American-Bulldog‘. I’d like to know more. I e-mailed him with no reply as of yet.

In the meantime, I’m off for a walk with the pups. They have brought me their leashes and are ready. After my vent here….I’m ready as well.

Maybe we will stroll through Lakewood Park since we can. I dare anyone to stop and ask me if Stuey is a Pit Bull. Now would not be the time. I might fill their ears...

:-)





If you’d like to sign the petition to change the ban on certain breeds; you may do so here. And also here.
Remember: It’s not the breed…it’s the owners.


This is interesting! My friend Karl sent this to me...do you think YOU can identify a Pit Bull? Take this test. I dare you! :-)


Postscript: I just received further identifying information about the news bit Mr. Davis wrote about on his post in lovelakewood.com. From the police media log report:
(Page 37)
Animal - miscellaneous
6/16 at 4:48 p.m. at 15524 Detroit - Ross Deli
Out with two females who possibly have pit bulls.
Teresa A Gurthrie of 1249 Lakeland was walking two dogs that appear to be pit bulls. She claims
they are American Bulldogs. One is a 4-year-old male. It is white in color and is named Romeo. The
second is a 6-month-old female. It is white and brown and is named Ania. Animal warden notified for follow-up

I've met Romeo and his owner Teresa. Their street is just over from ours, so they regularly walk in front of our house. One time I walked out to meet them as Romeo looks very similar to Stuey. He's a bit smaller and not quite as handsome, but his eye patch is the same but on the other eye. He is very much an American Bulldog. As a owner of one, there are similarities that are quite glaring to be able to tell the difference. Ross's Deli is just walking distance from here. My daughter and her friends like to ride their bikes over and buy penny candy. Now knowing this information that Teresa was just out for a walk with her dogs not far from her home and was stopped and now has to prove to the animal warden her digs DNA? That troubles me even further! Do I ned to start carrying Stueys papers with me when we go out walking? Romeo is a very mild mannered dog. Lathargic actually when you approach him. So it's quite obvious to me that the officer wasn't responding to anything he/she saw aas a threat, just a random stop of a pedistrian with her dogs?

Bah.
Looks like I should stop all gardening and house projects and call a realtor instead...

Nancyland...

All’s well in Nancyland.

I got an e-mail from Carlos the other day saying just that. “Is all well in Nancyland?” he asked. Which made me pause and look at my calendar. Are you kidding? What day is this? Which then made me realize that it’s been 21 days since my last posting. Yikes. 21 days. A veritable lifetime in bloggy world. I’m sure you’ve been fine without me, but still…I am so sorry.

The last few weeks have been slightly (ha-understatement) hectic in said land of Nancy…complete with a bout of vertigo, pneumonia, laryngitis and ear/eyes/nose/throat summer cold. Add to that the garage sale, landscaping project and a friend requiring help moving , and my daughters two summer camps coinciding on the same days (who planned that nonsense!)…the equation brings you to taking three weeks off from my beloved blogoshere and its inhabitants.

Outside of an annoying repetitive cough, I’m better. Now.

The vertigo started after Boo and I spent an entire two days riding the coasters at Cedar Point. We stayed at the Breakers which allowed us extra time after regular park hours and an extra hour before the park opens as well. We are yearly season pass holders, so we have gotten rather elitist about the rides. If a line is too long, we just come back later. Doesn’t necessarily have to be that day since we only live 45 minutes away. But when you get to ride the Maverik (average wait time 2 hours+) or the Millenium (average wait time 1 hour+) 3 times each before 10am…well, life is good.

That is, until the next morning.

I awoke and rolled out of bed heading for the bathroom and realized that I had no equilibrium to keep me standing upright. It was rather precarious as I found this out at the top of the flight of stairs leading down. In my minds eye I saw myself a crumbled heap at the bottom unable to call for help. ‘I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!’ keeps running like a mantra through my brain. This feeling of nausea and unstableness lasted the entire day. Me thinks I must curtail my overanxious inner 12 year old. Just like alcohol…one must pace themselves.

I love to get manicures and pedicures. It's a time when I can just totally relax and be pampered. I get manicures about every two weeks and a pedi about once a month (unless there is some new fabu colour that I MUST have and have now)...but for some reason my timing has been entirely off when scheduling such events of late. Instead of having fresh, shiny nails right before some social occassion, I end up doing yard work immediately afterwards. Which even if wearing gloves, ruins said manicure.

My daughter has determined uncounsiously to break every toenail I have. For some reason she feels that walking on my feet when wearing flipflops is preferable to walking on her own in sturdy Keens. Flipflops against Keens? The Keens always win. The nail technician is always wondering what I do to my freakin' toes...

BUT, even though my nails may not be shiny presently, my darn yard looks great. Maybe the best it's looked since I've lived here. My ex-husband even said so. (yay me!) I built a stone table of antique sandstone along the driveway where we cocktail while playing Cornhole during the summer. It's fabulous! Like a mini-Stonehenge! I had stopped at a garage sale and they had all this thick beautiful slabs of sandstone. I bought it all. Didn't know what I was going to do with it, but had to have it. I pulled in the driveway and asked my contractor to take it out of my Jeep.

"George....hey could you unload this?"
"What is all this? What are you planning on doing with it?" he asked me. I knew that he was eyeing it and realizing that this shit was h-e-a-v-y. It was perhaps the hottest day this year and he was almost completed staining my deck. Not a good job in the mid-day sun.
"I'm not sure yet, George. But I couldn't leave it there...I had to have it!" I explained.

He just shook his head. He's getting used to my antics. As he unloaded these extremely heavy articles out of the car and placed them alongside the driveway, I stood over them patting myself on the back for the beauties I just procured. All of a sudden it came to me. "Dig two holes right here George. And we'll stand these up and mortar the long piece across the top."

"Your kidding."

"Nope. Dig. I'll buy you some beer."

My contractors cool. I think I find jobs just to keep him busy at my house.

My basement has been cleared of clutter, another manicure sabotage. Well, almost cleared. I’m not perfect, you know. I need a little bit of mess. Control is overrated.

Over the past year I’ve been taking things that I no longer want, but haven’t been able to fully give up quite yet. I’ve been sorting them into boxes of maybe I might use again and boxes of give away and boxes of garage sale. I keep a stack of price stickers at the base of the stairs so I’ll tag the item before placing it into the bin. I read about that once in a magazine and thought it a brilliant idea. Amazingly enough I’ve been able to implement it into my life. Most brilliant ideas I ponder but never, ever actually use.

This past garage sale has cleared a large area in the basement that I’ve put some new shelving units in. There are shelves along the walls, but the floor area has always turned into a jumble of miscellaneous. My idea is that the shelves are deep and ceiling height. You can access them from either side. I even made flaps or covers for them out of old sheets to help keep dust and dirt from the items stored. Another ‘good idea’ supplied to me ala Martha Stewart.

I used to have a catering business. I have a lot of catering equipment. From Cambros to keep the food warm or cold in transport to stainless roll top chafers. I have plates and silverware and glassware for 100. I have a plethora of serving platters and bowls for any occasion. The problem is storing all these items. And keeping it organized.

My basement is a basement not meant for anything but a basement. My home was built in 1905. At that time families didn’t use their basements as another room in the home. It was a concrete filled space below the house that had the guts of the house in it.

The ceiling is low. Fine for me, but if you are over six foot, please watch the beams. You might end up with an unscheduled trip to the hospital. I’ve painted lines around the furnace and hot water tank so nothing gets stored close to those items. Another tip from Martha darling. And I’ve tied a red ribbon to the spigot for the overflow tank hiding in the ceiling beams for my boiler. I can’t tell you how many times I myself have hit my head on the valve knowing full well that its up there and that I should avoid it at all costs. It hurts. It leaves marks. It makes you swear like a trucker.

“Mommy! THAT’S a BAD word! The worst of the words!” my daughter once said after the tank leaving yet another large dent in my forehead.

“I know. I’m sorry, baby. That IS a bad word and I shouldn’t have said it.” I told her as I tried desperately to compose myself and keep my forehead from bleeding all over my white shirt. I thought it’s not quite the worst word, but damn near close. “I just hit my head on that fuckin’…I mean, darn thing AGAIN!”

After hitting it about a dozen times I finally got the bright idea to tie a ribbon dangling from the spigot so to unconsciously see it before banging into it. Again. And again. And again. You get the picture. (I get the bruises...)

All of this organization has come only after a long bout of un-organization. If asked for a tool, or an item I can recall where it’s located. I have a memory like that. I made more money off my dad by finding his wallet or glasses over the years. I’d be a good detective. I can walk through a space and then recall what was in there. I don’t go into the room thinking that I need to remember stuff, I just can see it in my minds eye. I’ve no need to pray to Saint Anthony for lost items, I can find them myself.

The problem is I can find it because I know where it is. I just can’t direct anyone else to it.

“The clips for the tablecloths are in a plastic bag on the second shelf over by the hot water tank next to the candles in a shoe box under the bin that has the gift wrap ribbon in it. It’s a blue shoe box, you can’t miss it.”

“Huh?” is usually the reply. “Where exactly?”

So I put down what I’m doing to go and retrieve it myself. It’s much easier that way. But it would be better if I had it organized so anyone would be able to find things. Delegate responsibility. That’s what I was always taught as a manager. You may do a better job yourself, but if you delegate responsibility correctly you’ll get more work done in a shorter period of time.

Thus the organization.
And the time put in. Or should I say…overtime.

Thank goodness the basement is cool. The last couple weeks have been scorchers up here on the North Coast. So to spend time in my not made for habitation basement was actually pleasant. I’m going to try to make it another year without air conditioning. I’d like to say it’s because I’m trying to reduce my carbon footprint on good ol’ Mother Earth. But truly it’s just to keep my energy bills down. I’ve not central air in my 1905 home. And I don’t care what kind of window unit you buy, they are not energy efficient. There are about 3 weeks of the year that I would gladly sell my home and buy some prefab McMansion just to have central air…but if I can make it through those 3 weeks then I love all the glory of my century mission style home.

Enter in the sick part.

Hot. Sticky. Humid. I slept with a fan blowing on me in close proximity one night. I awoke with a cold. Which continued to get worse. Which turned into laryngitis. Which then moved into my chest. Which then landed me with a minor case of pneumonia. Summer sickness is the worst.

But I’m better now. I still sound like a was a smoker from way back. My voice is deep and cracky. My friend Melissa thinks I sound like Kathleen Turner. She thinks I should re-record all my outgoing messages for voice mail now so I can add a sultry sound to my normally nasal “We can’t come to the phone right now….”

I don’t like the sound of my voice recorded.
But then again, I don’t like my image in print either. Unless it’s taken while on the front car of a roller coaster. Before the vertigo sets in...

:-)

Thanks to all for hanging in with me during my little involuntary reprieve from the blogosphere!


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thanks also to Molly of Hope, Fate and a little Hypothetical Coffee for tagging me in a 25 things you really never wanted to know about me-MeMe. Of course, HER 25 things are grand. 25 things about me? I really don’t think you want to know….but to appease Miss Molly, I’ll give it a go.

1. I’ve been buying clothes other than black, white or gray.
2. I’ve been taking all the clothes other than black, white or gray back.
3. I spend too much eating out.
4. I won’t curtail my eating out although I should.
5. I love dirty martinis.
6. I can’t drink more than two or I become a blithering idiot.
7. I’ve not answered any phone calls in the last 3 weeks. That's why I have voicemail.
8. I only have checked voice mail once every two days. Unless absolutely necessary. I'm sure it drives my ex-husband insane.
9. It’s been like heaven not answering the phone.
10. I just ordered 3 pairs of shoes that I don’t need but must have.
11. My credit score has finally recovered from my divorce so many years ago.
12. I now get 3 offers daily to open credit cards.
13. I love apple. Not apples, although I like them too, but apple Inc. The stock I bought back when the market crashed at $80 a share has now about paid off my house.
14. Who knew I was a stock market genius.
15. My daughter is funny.
16. She likes gray, black and white clothes too. With a little splash mixed in.
17. I like to procrastinate. I mean, I don't LIKE to procrastinate; but obviously I must since I do it so often.
18. I love doing laundry, but hate putting it away.
19. I love to entertain, but stress out and hate doing it prior to anyone arriving. Once they're here, I’m fine.
20. It’s been almost a year since my mom died. I still talk to her daily.
21. I was never a coffee drinker until I met Damian. Now I can’t hardly go a day without it. Cold/Hot…doesn’t matter. But it HAS to be with crème. Bah.
22. I could eat sushi everyday.
23. I love to buy sparky party jewelry, but never wear it.
24. I own 26 evening bags. I like to display them in my dressing room.
25. I hate celebrity magazines and such but love to read PerezHilton.

Now I must tag 10 people to also tell me more, tell me more, tell me more!

These 10 unsuspecting people are:

(drum roll……)


1. Chrissy @ I ShouldaBeenAStripper . Why? Because she’s one of my best friends and I pass everything on to her.
2. SuziCate @ The Water Witches Daughter  Love her!
3. Julie @ At Home with Myself.  Jules is soooo adorable.
4. Karl @ Intense Guy. 'Cause I'd like to know 25 more things about him!
5. KaLynn @ Kacklin' With KaLynn KaLynn always makes me smile.
6. Maureen @ Island Roar If I lived closer, we'd be best pals I'm sure of it. :-)
7. Janice @ Take It Aweigh I need to do this and be accountable. Maybe just THEN I could skip those sweets. :-)
8. Renee @ Style...the New Black Renee is just one of those all around talented gals. You should SEE the scarf she knitted for me and the pin she made for Boo!
9.Tinkerbell @ If I were my best friend...  She makes me feel. Nuff said.
10. Senorita Andauluciana @ The Decline of Youth and the Beginning of Me She's one that's been with me for a long time. I always look forward to her comments!

Many of these people you've seen probably before. (hint: most are in my reading list) But....NOW they will be peer pressured into giving us more insight into who they actually are. 25, my friends. 25.
:-)

(all those that I didn't officially 'tag', feel free to pick this up even if I didn't call you out!)