I had not intended to blog about this but in answering a question posed by Finn, I copied Newscoma and the Squirrel Queen and realized it was not an email but a blog post, so here we are. 

Those who follow the Facebook stuff had seen updates this week about Foster and his “New Home.”  Finn had asked what had happened that caused me to re-home this most wonderful dog.  It wasn’t a thing of something happening but more of a thing of doing what’s best for the dog.

Foster went to his new home yesterday afternoon with a great young lady named Lexi. 

I think I knew for a good while that Foster would eventually have to go somewhere else.  As he grew, he got more and more gorgeous and more and more active.  I’m also moving in a couple weeks to a smaller place and I knew that would/could be an issue.  All of this was in the back of my mind, you see. 

Here awhile back, I was having a conversation with my friend Todd about my poor ability to be able to tell people, other than my children, that I love them.  Todd asked “What about your dog?” (Todd has a 9 year old Boston Terrier that is, for all practical purposes, his child)  Without thinking, I said “Well, that’s not really what I’d call ‘love’ yet.”   That kinda bothered me because thinking back on all the other dogs I’ve had the last 20 years, I knew that it was love between me and Maybelle; me and Chloe; me and Bogie and Chelsea… when they all came into my life, it turned to love pretty quickly, as in a matter of days. 

None of my kids really liked Foster.   I mean, they liked him but being the typical herding dog he is, he had to be in the middle of everything.  They saw him as aggravating.  It got to where everytime Trevor came over, he’d want to put him in the crate because Foster (probably trying to “herd” him) was CONSTANTLY nipping at him.  Foster broke the skin a few times on Trevor and it frustrated him because he SO wanted to love him.  The kids pretty much didn’t like coming over here cause of Foster. It wasn’t fair to Foster to have be in the crate all the time when we were here either. 
I had thought maybe if he had a buddy, that would “help” so I proceeded in finding him a pal.  Found one at a wonderful rescue called Camp Chaos37206 on Sunday and made arrangements to get her. 

That same evening, I was at the dog park and met up with a guy I met over there several months ago who has a purebred Border Collie.  This guy has always loved Foster and was always talking about how if I ever got rid of him he wanted him. 

Long story short, as the conversation progressed, we decided to try him taking Foster home with him and his dog to see how things went.  He’s a young, guy who is REAL active and might be more suitable for Foster to live with cause he has a yard, etc.  Why not try it and see how it goes?  Seemed like a good idea.  Mark is a great guy and his dog is so healthy and wonderful.  I thought it would be a good fit and he was so enthusiastic about it.

Things were fine for a couple days.  Mark even texted me saying “It’s official…I’m keeping him.”  He had even given him a new name and got him a tag with “Mick” on it. 

Tuesday night, I’m chilling at the house with Millie (who is Night and Day different temperament from Foster but I’ll tell more about her later) and I get a frantic text from Mark saying “I can’t deal with this.”

Uh oh….

Apparently, Mark went to work and did not crate Foster. (I assumed he would) and Foster pretty much trashed his living room.  He said it looked like he had been robbed.  (Dumb ass….sorry but I didn’t feel bad or responsible for that.  Foster isn’t used to being left out in the house when nobody’s around.  I (wrongly) assumed this guy knew better than to leave a 6 month old Border Collie mix puppy ALONE in a new place without being crated.   (All goes back to an important lesson I learned from a boss one time…NEVER assume ANYTHING).

I did find a great home for him out here in Sumner County…a girl that’s a friend of Tara’s, actually and lives in this huge house/farm off Long Hollow Pike and has two other mutts, took him home with her yesterday.  She’s a darling 16 year old girl with cool piercings that is an animal lover.  Her dad had ok’d it and I know he will have a great home with the Lancaster’s. 

I do want to pause here and add a link to a wonderful rescue for Border Collie’s in Portland, TN.  Richard had offered to put a picture of Foster on his website, very graciously and I’m so appreciative of him and what he does.  Richard uses his Social Security to rescue these dogs that he loves so much.  Foster was adopted before he was able to get the info up. 

I didn’t realize until Foster went to Mark’s for those two nights how exhausting he was.  I really worked with him and loved it but knew that I didn’t have the same affection/love for him that I’ve had for other dogs.  It certainly wasn’t cause I didn’t try. Good grief, I’ve inundated my blog and Facebook page with pictures (and they were some CUTE pictures!) of this beautiful little creature.

  When Foster came to me, I was really fighting the Funk of losing my job, having a horrible job from hell, facing mounting monetary concerns, nursing a broken heart and really, really missing my kids, who have chosen to live with their father at this particular point and time .  It was a loooong, ass winter, y’all. 

Being without my kids all the time was not what we had originally planned when we split up but I understand their need and desire to be in their “Home.”  It’s still like missing a hand or other appendage you have to have in order to survive.  I really have not known what to do with myself not having my kids with me. 

 This winter, for the first time in my life, I came to see how people get to the point of hopelessness and think the only alternative is to jump off a bridge.  I never considered doing such, by the way,  but I certainly see why some find that’s about the only alternative.

Then Foster showed up…

Having a little guy like Foster in my world, I had to get out and walk him everyday. There was no choice in the matter-he HAD to be exercised daily.  I started taking him to the park and walking him the day I got him. 

 Foster was well known at Moss Wright Park by the kids who play ball out there, the regular walkers/runners and especially by the dogs and their people we met at the dog park.  We have met some of the nicest people over at Fenway’s Park.  The fresh air and exercise were the best anti-depressant that money can’t buy.  I saw some of the most gorgeous sunrises and sunsets and other wonderful surprises on our walks.

I like to think that his name was entirely appropriate…the word “foster” means “to care for.”  I certainly cared for him, probably better than any other dog I’ve ever had.  Foster helped me a TON.  He kept me from losing my mind this spring/summer, without a doubt. I was able to give Foster a good start in life and he gave new meaning to mine.

I hope to have another opportunity at some point to foster other little furry creatures who are in need of a place to stay.  Foster showed me that was in me.  I’ve always loved dogs and always felt like I have to have at least one around me but this whole Foster thing has indeed changed my life. 

So, to quote Uncle Bob Barker…y’all get your dogs and cats spayed (or SPADED as some people like to say) and neutered and do your part to keep the Foster’s and Millie’s of the world from being homeless. And for the love of Scooby Doo…if you’re thinking about adding a dog to your family, PLEASE go to a shelter or a rescue (like one of those linked above) before you go to a breeder.

Stay tuned for more on Miss Millie. (As hyper and wild as Foster is, Millie is just the opposite in calmness.  It’s like night and day)

A lot of people see my updates and stuff on Facebook.  I forget some of you don’t do Facebook.  Therefore, you are sitting on pins and needles wanting to see how big Foster has gotten and what all he’s into, yes?  I knew it.

Foster is in the throws of puberty.  When a human kid goes through puberty, they kinda go nuts.  It’s much the same with dogs. 

Instead of rolling his eyes at me, Foster gets into the trash can.  Instead of telling me that I don’t care about him and why do I care what he’s doing anyway, he Counter Surfs.  (I do not leave food out on the counters, Dog Experts.)

Foster is delightful.  Even so, I am counting the days until he turns 6 months old (we’re at 3 weeks now!) until I can get him neutered.

I know I need to update…I will soon.

There’s so much I want to say about Judi  but I haven’t been able to get my head around all the things I want to say about her.   It hasn’t even sunk in that she’s gone. 

I got to see her last Sunday before she passed away on Thursday.  She couldn’t talk anymore but she knew I was there and responded to me.  She even tried to tell me that she quit smoking.  I’m sure, even in her ill state, Judi HAD to think what a dumbass I was to say what I said to her when she could only get out the word “quit” to me regarding her smoking cessation once she learned she had Multiple Myeloma.  (Brace yourself…this is a humdinger of a dumb thing to say). 

“Don’t you feel better?”

I bet she wanted to say, if she coulda “Yeah, Sharon…never felt better! Pass me some morphine.” 

Gah.

Dear Judi…you do realize I was trying not to cry while sitting at your bedside, right?  That seeing the one woman in the world that I know that could do positively anything?  The most energetic woman on the planet, whose picture should be in the dictionary next to “Multi-tasking”…the woman who always encouraged me…really and truly like a second mother to me…The woman from whom I learned the secret of good sausage balls and how to make a good cup of coffee…could do everything but beat cancer.

Now, I will tell you that through this whole journey, I never once sensed an ounce of fear from Judi.  Her faith was as strong, steady and real.  There was something beautiful about that bedside scene (even with me saying STUPID things).  To see Judi’s children, grandchildren, husband of 52 years all around her, caring for her, loving her…

My beautiful daughter has memories from her early childhood of being at Gee and Gee Ga’s.  She was reminiscing about losing her top, front tooth at their house. She and Tyler both have strong memories of this at Gee’s house:

This is Gee’s Toy Closet.  Those toys in there all belonged to her kids and grandkids.  I have a picture somewhere of Baby Tyler on that green carpet playing with that red apple.  Me, my sister and Judi’s son Darrin played many rounds of Operation with that very game there. 

Tara honored Judi/Gee yesterday by singing for her funeral service.  I was so proud of that kid, I swear.  I know Judi was too. 

My Memory Closet of Judi is so big, I will have to periodically write something about her.  She was so huge in my life from the time I was 3 or 4  years old.  She was a huge influence on me in so many ways, not least of all in being a Mom.  I loved her dearly.  Don’t have the words yet to say how much I will miss her. 

Judi promised me that she would tell my Dad hey for me and that me and her would bump into each other again.

Found out yesterday that Chelsea has heartworms.  The vet did not seem to think pursuing treatment is a good idea because of her Collie mix, age (6 years old this month)  and because treatment is $750.  The other option is to give her the preventative and kind of wait it out but they added we don’t want her to suffer.  For now, we aren’t ready to let go of her just yet and she doesn’t seem to be suffering.

#2 was holding a quarter yesterday and asked me how many quarters it would take to make 750 dollars.  He also mentioned having him a lemonade stand to get money to get Chelsea treated.  Pretty sweet. 

Chelsea’s been hanging with me the last couple days.  I didn’t realize how much she loved me until I brought her here.  She follows me from room to room and even #2 said “I think Chelsea really loves you.”

The bad part of having pets is stuff like this….

When I saw this Thursday evening, it like to have tore me right on up. All the media circus, hoopla, “he was a weirdo”, opinions, pontifications, all that…here we have a guy devastated at losing his little brother. Not a thing to do with the “King of Pop” but it was a real reminder to me that this is a real person and a real family.

The Jacksons may not be the typical family down the street, but, then again, maybe they are. A twist of fate, an ambitious father who gets a TON of flack for being hard on his kids. Abuse is bad but let’s face it: Had Joe Jackson not been a hard ass, would we even have ever known his children?  Would they have opened lots of doors for African Americans like Oprah, Obama and others?  Doubt it. Without him, the Jackson Brothers would probably still be living in Gary, Indiana, operating a crane in a steel mill or who knows what else.

I LOVE me some Jackson Five…one of the earliest cartoons I remember as a little person was the Jackson 5 and Jackie’s big, animated afro. 

Them Jackson Boys are some good looking sons of guns.  It’s always been so mind blowing to me how Michael jacked up his face like he did when he was so gorgeous.  I can understand fixing the nose but geez….you see how handsome those guys STILL are and how Michael could’ve looked….very sad.

Amd for your dose of useless trivia…didja know Brother Marlon had an identical twin who was stillborn?  And that Marlon is the only Jackson brother to not get divorced?  Still married to the same girl for 34 years.  

Jermaine’s first father in law (heh) was none other than Berry Gordy himself…

All of it’s just so sad…geez.

I can’t add nothing to what all’s being said about Michael Jackson.  I was and am a huge fan of the KOP from the early music all the way up to Black and White. A good way for me to resurrect my Feel Good Friday here is to let the music of Michael Jackson speak for itself.

I know lots of people in my age group are thinking the same thing tonight: How bizarre is it that TWO of the major, Pop Culture icons of our generation died on the same day?

We knew Farrah’s time was short but Michael Jackson?  This afternoon, my sister texted me about Farrah and made the statement about Ed McMahon, Farrah and who would the third be?  Unreal.

As a little girl in the 70’s, I looked at Farrah as the epitome of physical perfection.  I mean, she had the hair, the teeth, the body, she could play tennis AND she was married to the Six Million Dollar Man!

Amazing to me that Farrah died of a type of cancer that is almost embarrassing to talk about and had to be somewhat humiliating to her, yet, she was so open about it, sharing her journey and being so real about the whole thing.  There she, the embodiment of all that is physically perfect…I appreciate her so much for allowing us in such an intimate part of her life.  Farrah suffered so and I’m glad she’s not suffering any longer.

Michael Jackson was on the soundtrack of my life from birth…I can’t even wrap my head around him being gone.  Hands down, he was probably one of the most incredible songwriters, singers, producers, visionaries and good grief…his performing….I wish I could’ve seen him live.

Yeah, he was odd.  Most geniuses have some sort of weirdness about them.  I wish he would have had some people in his life who could’ve kept him closer to the ground but my word…like his former father in law, nobody has experienced that kind of fame.  The kind of fame Elvis and Michael Jackson had is unsurpassed.  There’s no manual on how to be a celebrity on that level.

Thriller is the best selling album of ALL time.  ALL TIME.  That’s pretty mind blowing.

I nearly cut off part of my big toe when I was about 14 trying to emulate MJ’s dance moves.  Holy crap, that hurt.  That little kick thing he does here…

Amazing…

A weird day…both of these people passing brings home, yet again, time is marching and we’re all getting older…

Both of these passings make me really, really sad…

We’re going to break from the Mom Is Sickly blog posts and I’m gonna tell a funny story. 

I had a very brief career at the cable company recently.  I can tell this now cause I don’t work there no more.  I’m telling this story as a public service announcement.  I’d like to think my brief trip into cable company hell was worth something.

Take it from me, if you choose to order “Adult Entertainment” on your Pay Per View, it’s like this…I’m not one to point fingers.  I mean, I love Jesus but if you so desire to watch a buncha nekkid people romping around in the privacy of your own home, I have kin people who gave their lives so you can enjoy that.  Have at it.  It doesn’t bother me one iota. HOWEVER….do keep in mind that there is a spot on your account at the cable company that tells every single title you’ve ordered.

I was sitting out on the floor listening into calls while training.   A call comes in from this young woman.  She’s making some sorta change to the account and says “Hey by the way….how come my bill is so stinkin’ high?”  (She didn’t use those words, of course).  The rep looks into the account and tells her there’s some Pay Per View movies ordered.  She claims over and over she didn’t order them and her husband is in the background (betchya a buck his name’s Bubba) and he’s saying “I don’t order porn!”

Yeah. Right.

One of the titles Bubba ordered was that classic “Bad To The Boner.”  This poor girl is trying to convince the rep and herself that her perfect husband wouldn’t want to watch something called “Busty Cops On Patrol” even though the account plainly shows that this is not the first time he’s run up the cable bill buying porn on the Pay Per View.

Once I saw “Bad To The Boner” on the screen and heard this bozo trying to say he had no idea who ordered it, I broke into my infamous, pee in my pants, couldn’t-stop-if-I-tried  giggling fit. 

Of course, I see “Boner” and no, I don’t think of a male erection but that fabulous former Nashville Mayor Bill Boner (remind me to tell the story of how he tried to pick my friend up and pursued her relentlessly) and his harmonica.  (Whatever happened to Traci Peel????? Good grief that was a moment in Nashville history that made me proud.)

Anyhoo…there’s this thing called “Parental Control”.  You can use it to control husbands too, I reckon.  Oh and if you think your charming, sweet little kid would have no way of figuring out how to order smut on Pay Per View, think again. 

I had a call from a grandfather.  His 9 year old grandson lived with him.  He was on his way to pick the little darling up from school when he got his mail and had a HUGE bill. Why?  The kid had ordered TONS of porn. 

Now, I’d like to sit here and tell you my 10 year old son would NEVER attempt to order something of a smut nature if he knew he could.  I also live in the real world and know if he had a chance to watch “Desperate Housewives In Bondage” he’d be ALL over that.

Paw Paw tries to convince me his grandson had “no idea” what he was doing.  It was all I could do to not laugh.

And that is my Public Service Announcement for today.  You’re welcome.

So I sign onto Twitter and am greeted by Mr. Cuomo….

 

I love the idea that Chris follows me back.   (This is my fantasy. Leave me alone)

 

 

1. MizCollie@busymom what? No shells?????2 minutes ago from web
       

2. 

   ChrisCuomoYes, i mean “US”. Sorry. Leaving show 2day to go to jail. trip inside world of juvenile justice. Will tweet 3 day trip. Can we fix kids?about 1 hour ago from TwitterBerry

       

3. 

   ChrisCuomoGood Morning #iranelection update abt prospects for reform, UD prez stmt enough, too much? Also DC mayor intv re acctblty for old trains.

Hey Y’all….

We’re still alive and kickin’ over here.  Mom is doing ok.  She had a little “spell” and had to make a detour back to St. Tom’s last week for some chest pain.  An arteriogram was done and she had some blockage but they’re going to watch it for the time being.  She’s back at the Rehab Place.  She’s bored outta her skull.  I tried to get her to go find her a rich widower.  She’s not enthused.

She has a couple people over there at the rehab place that are just the coolest.  One is a nurse named Sandra and the other is a feller named Insa who is from somewhere where they have beautiful accents.  Even when he says the word “Diarrhea” it sounds pretty.  Heh.  Dia-dee-uh.   Insa is the color of black ink and is unbelievable.  Mom calls him her “Pool Boy.” 

Thanks for your prayers, good thoughts/karma/vibes.