When Humans Become Meals...

July 2010 has been the rainiest and hottest July I can remember. With this climate comes the humidity, the bad hair, the stagnant air and the standing water. And with this environment comes the mosquitoes. Tiny little vampires of the insect world.

According to Wikipedia,there are about 3,500 species of mosquitoes in the world. I’m quite sure that about 3,499 of them live in the Texas-to-Florida corridor. To my vampire comment, let’s be fair…only the female mosquito is the vampire. She needs the blood of humans to produce eggs and ultimately future little bloodsuckers. Males suck on plant nectar and hang out while their gals prey on us warm-bloods. This is like a bad rendition of “Twilight” and we’re ALL Bellas.

These little she-devils love my husband. He is a mosquito magnet of the highest attracting force. Buy stock in “Off” or “Cutter” products, folks, because our family is single-handedly keeping those companies in business. Before we go outside to do anything – and I mean ANYthing – we have to “lube up” as we call it. Go to the mailbox? Lube up. Walk the dog, water the plants or any yardwork? Lube up. Answer our front door? We should lube up. Our neighbor came to our door this past week and we literally smacked a mosquito on his forehead. Nothing says “hi, neighbor,” like a pop to the upper-left forehead and the blackish-red stain of a splattered insect!

Think we should do more than just “lube up?” We have coils that you light. We have citronella in all shapes, forms, liquidities and holiday colors. We have tiki torches – which I think when lit simply signal the mosquitoes to “C’mon over, dinner is served.” We have a propane-powered fogger, which works like the sprayer trucks, but in hand-held form. Our county has sent the trucks and even crop duster foggers to fly over our neighborhoods, but alas, throngs of the little swarmers still cruise our yards.

I’m pestered by them, but not like my husband. I think it’s because I eat a lot of garlic and according to an old wives tale, garlic in the bloodstream is supposed to be unappetizing to mosquitoes (yet another vampire connection). But lately, I too have had to spray every exposed body part with insect-repellant chemicals. And still, as I bend down in the flower beds to battle the crab and Dallas grass (there’s another blog entry there…), I’m attacked by swarms that would send the Luftwaffe back to Berlin. I feel like I’m the man in that old “Off” TV commercial, where he sticks his arm in the aquarium filled with mosquitoes, and they attack him like paparazzi on a Kardashian. And sadly, it’s not looking any better in August…

The Least Favorite Things File: Grocery Shopping

My husband contends that in our marriage vows, if he knew “for better or worse” meant having to grocery shop with me, he might have bailed on the whole thing. He’s right. I HATE to grocery shop.

My mother LOVED to grocery shop. To her, it was a social outing. She had her three favorite stores. She would see her friends there. She knew store managers, checkers, sackers and specialty department managers. They knew her and were all happy to see her coming. Not just because she was spending money in their stores, but she was kind to them. She appreciated their jobs and what they provided. Oh yes – and because at Christmas, she baked goodies for them.

I’m really a kind person – but it’s a different world out there now. To me, grocery shopping is not an event – it’s a chore. And it’s usually a big chunk of paycheck, even with coupons. Why is it a chore? Because of the people I usually encounter when I embark on a shopping trip.

Bad Drivers 1 – Outside. These folks can’t seem to notice that the lines on the parking spaces are slanted at a direction completely opposite of the direction they’re driving. And no, you cannot “whip” that Suburban into the space from the wrong direction. These are also the drivers who apparently don’t understand the meaning of “crosswalk.”

Cross Walkers. Not only do these people take as much time as possible to navigate the crosswalk, but they do it at the longest diagonal line they can manage. No straight shot across for them – no. They have to be in the path of vehicles for the longest amount of time they can muster. Kids, cell phones, loose shoe strap, lack of equilibrium – whatever it takes to stay in the way.

Bad Drivers 2 – Inside. Now we’re in the store, behind the cart. C’mon people, it’s America – treat the aisle like a road and drive on the right. Don’t stop, leave your cart in the middle of the aisle, and go back 15 feet to grab the Nutter Butters. Would you leave your vehicle on Westheimer Road while you went back to grab a soda at Valero?

Deli-Tasters. How many samples of ham can you taste? Do you REALLY not know the difference between gouda and pepper jack cheese? If you’d like lunch, hit the drive-through at Mickey D’s. And speaking of McDonald’s…

Out-of-Control Kids. Take your kids to the Playland. I know you’d like to tire them out for their nap, but please CONTROL YOUR CHILDREN. The only reason you should allow them to run up and down every aisle without your supervision is if your retirement plan includes a corporate lawsuit against the store when they crash into an end-aisle display. And thanks for loading up four of them – along with a full basket of items - on one of those carts made to look like a car. You usually can’t steer it and you’re in everyone’s way.

Coupon Perusers. I’m a coupon-a-holic. But I’m an organized one, ready to go with list and coupons in hand. Nothing is more fun than the person on the busiest aisle…wad of coupons (or worse, flyers with uncut coupons) in hand…thumbing through the ones that aren’t being dropped on the floor…then bending and chasing them all around the aisle. You can double the fun if you add bored spouses, an impatient mother-in-law or kids to this equation.

People Who Can’t Count Their Items. The sign says “15 Items or LESS.” Did you fail Sesame Street? (And it's "fewer" by the way.)

Clueless Sackers. Do they give bonus points to sackers for constantly chatting with fellow sackers? For putting the can of V8 on top of my bread? For bagging the leaky bleach cleaner bottle in the same sack with the dry pet food? For lobbing the easily-bruised tomatoes and apples to the side in search of a new sack? For wedging the piece of chocolate-iced cake down the side of the cart so the icing will stick to the top of the container? Bonus points like that should get you a vacation!

Cart Dumpers. Thank you so much for leaving your empty shopping cart in the empty parking space. Not only does it prevent someone from parking their vehicle there, but it enables the wind to propel the cart into the side of my car door.

And everyone needs a door ding to remind them of their fun trip to the grocery store, don’t they? Cha-CHING.

Losing Zach - A Lesson in Lack of Knowledge

We recently lost our beloved Irish setter, Zach to Gastric dilatation-volvulus (GDV) is also known as "Bloat," "Stomach Torsion," or "Twisted Stomach." It was a condition to which we were completely oblivious - until it was too late.

I write this to alert all pet owners - ask your vet what diseases and afflictions might be inherent in your pet. The only thing I had ever heard of to be wary of for setters was hip displaysia. Even if you think you're being paranoid, knowledge is power - the power to keep your pet alive in some cases.

On this day, we mistakenly thought Zach had absorbed or ingested some weed killer - and we were totally wrong. We watched helplessly as he panted incessantly; tried unsuccessfully to throw up; to get comfortable by laying down in several positions; tried to stay cool. He didn't eat nor did he drink and as a result, no pottying. When we took him to the vet, they made him as comfortable as possible, tried to alleviate the air in his stomach and sedated him to stop the panting.

Surgery was available but it was expensive and the odds of success were not good. So we had to say goodbye and let God welcome him. After hours of crying we started to look up GDV/Bloat on the Internet. They listed what dogs are susceptible. Surprisingly to us, it looked like a resume for Zach.

Breed - Irish Setter is #4 most likely to get it.
Genetics - Large/narrow chest confirmation, a breed standard for setters.
Age - Dogs over 7 years of age. Zach was 7 and a half.
Gender - Male dogs are twice as likely to develop GDV. Zach was all boy.
Eating habits - Dogs fed once a day are twice as likely to develop GDV as those fed twice a day. We feed once a day.
Temperament - Nervous, anxious, or fearful appear to be at an increased risk of developing bloat. Zach operated at Mach 10 all the time.

The vet was generous and kind in telling us there was nothing we could have done to prevent it. But I really feel that had we known, we'd have done some things differently. RIP, my sweet Muttles. You are missed.

If you'd like more information please go to this very helpful link: http://www.peteducation.com/article.cfm?c=2&aid=402

Can I Save Face With a Facebook Addiction?!?

A friend of mine invited me to join "Facebook." It sounds harmless enough and let's face it (really, no pun intended), I'm over 40 and happy to stay on the fringe of all these new social networking and texting technologies. So how bad could it be?

OH PLEASE. Now I post photos, give and accept "Flair" buttons, chat online, look for song quotes, eat online cupcakes, poke (and SuperPoke) people and might hyperventilate if I don't reach the acceptable "Lost" trivia level! (See my blog from April). And did I ever know that so many people cared about "My Lil Green Patch?!?" Well, they do!

The good news? It's great to catch up with old friends. It's neat to see a personal side of some of my favorite co-workers. I enjoy keeping in better touch with people than if I had to rely on old-fashioned letter-writing. I have fun with it and hopefully don't look like the techno-challenged geek that I really am! So if you've never tried Facebook, try it. I never thought I'd recommend anything like it. And if you're on Facebook, be sure to look me up and add me as a friend!

And BTW - the friend who invited me to Facebook, she never gets on it. It's like she gave me the drugs and then left me to deal with the addiction! Her loss, but I'll still get her for this!

Is He "Green" With Envy or Am I Making Him Ill?

Ever since I purchased a hybrid vehicle, my husband says I'm turning into an "environmental wacko." I've never considered myself green...except for my eyes, which according to my grandmother will forever exempt me from having to wear green on St. Pat's Day. I'm not vegetarian; I don't wear hemp clothing. And let's face it - I really didn't buy the vehicle with some higher purpose of Earth-saving in mind. I bought it because gas prices are abominable. But it's nice to think I'm contributing in some small fashion.

With Earth Day occuring this past week, we've been bombarded with "how to be green" messages in the media. Many of these tips and tidbits are pretty easy to implement, so I decided we should: unplugging small appliances and chargers when not in use; using fewer lights; turning up the thermostat as much as we can stand it; shorter showers and "every-other" flushes. We recycle via our subdivision-provided green plastic bin, which I think may someday end up in a landfill itself. I have a cloth grocery bag; yes, just one usually handy for short trips. Until my cats stop using the litter box, I still have a lot of use for those nasty plastic bags. So I'll see if I'm still hugging the earth in six months, when Al Gore's "We Can Do It" marketing campaign runs out of budget.

All I can do is try every day. So I'm doing my part and nagging (excuse me, "encouraging") my husband to do his part as well. As for the "environmental wacko" comment, I'd like to state for the record that I had never HEARD of a compact fluorescent light bulb until we shared the same home. He brought that bit of environmentalism into our marriage as well as a dimmer switch on every compatible outlet. Like Kermit said, "It Ain't Easy Being Green."