tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72548688165699240652024-03-05T06:02:47.686-08:00Single Mommy MusingsA day in the life of a single mommy and her wee one that is growing and gives her inspiration every day.MeekoMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00476005865752199144noreply@blogger.comBlogger57125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254868816569924065.post-74230768791919243112014-01-07T22:14:00.003-08:002014-01-07T22:19:36.658-08:00An Army of Angels... and lessons taught.I had one of the weirdest experiences tonight than I've had since I was.... about 25!!!<br />
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My evening getting off work was the same as any other. I meandered out the door, tumbled into the car, surprised at the breezy traffic and marveled at the wondrous sunset on the way home. We've been having some fabulous sunrises and sunsets... as I see both every day!!<br />
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I got home to pick up the dogs to go to the parentals' house to join them for dinner. As I was packing up our leashes and supplies I heard this blood curdling scream outside. Uh-oh! The Rescuer's Soul jump starts and fires up. That was not a good sound followed by yelling, screaming and slamming.<br />
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Of course, there is no inner control at this point and I ran outside to investigate. I know the house that it's coming from so I go to their back gate just in time to have the gate slammed shut again... HARD! It bowed on it's hinges... then the outside door slammed shut. <br />
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Her voice was yelling for him to get off her. More screaming. The neighbor yelled for them to be quiet or she was calling the cops! Um, after ALL that JUST transpired with the screaming you are just now THREATENING to call the cops? So I decided to walk to the front of the house.<br />
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Well, what to my wandering eyes do appear but a gaggle of people with their cellphones to their ear! Okay, we are getting somewhere. At least people (yes, the gaggle) are actually calling the police. Well, for my Rescuer's Soul, that just isn't good enough, for that moment in time when she is STILL screaming from inside.<br />
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I hightailed it to the front door and pounded on that damn thing! Of course, I had no idea what was going to jump out at me so I backed up. All I can say is that my Army of Angels was standing behind me. He opened the door. She was pacing the inside of the house with her bags. She was obviously not bloodied so that was good. I said they should probably both come outside and sit down to cool off. She actually yelled at me that he pushed her down the stairs and that I needed to mind my own business. YES, in the same breath!!! <br />
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Um, so if he is "beating the shit out of you", you <strike>get pushed</strike> fall down the stairs because you are so intoxicated, you are going to have the audacity to tell me to mind my own business??? I'm here to rescue you, you ungrateful LUSHatic!!! I've had my experience of <strike>someone</strike> people like this so this wasn't new to me.<br />
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As I was speaking to them the PD helicopter was overhead so I knew it wouldn't be long before the police arrived. I started to walk back home when a neighbor from across the street came over saying he wanted to do something.... but wanted to mind his own business. When he saw me going to the door he thought he'd come over and be my backup... all buck twenty-five of him. The thought was nice, however.<br />
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So I had to lesson him up a bit. Had she really been beaten and bloodied, when one "minds their own business", it could be a flash between life and death for her. Sure, something really bad could have happened to me, but I was hoping and praying I had backed up far enough in case something came flying out that door.<br />
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Afterwards, my dad told me the story of a woman in New York. All her neighbors heard her from inside her home. From the safety of their own homes, they didn't want to get involved. Her batterer took to beating outside. Still, the people in the safety of their own homes did nothing. Not one person called the police because they didn't want to get involved. She died that night. Outside, in the open. Beaten to death.<br />
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To that ungrateful LUSHatic. Damn you! I'm NOT going to mind my own business because you could die!MeekoMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00476005865752199144noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254868816569924065.post-55452917134005724232012-12-04T08:38:00.000-08:002012-12-04T08:38:59.574-08:00My Little Animal RescuerWhat a hellaciously crazy chaotic morning WE just had. All was going smoothly minus the fact that Hannah, the Foster Wonderpup, was going crazy at the other dogs out for their poop walks this morning. <br />
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All was manageable until we saw.... the dog.<br />
<a href="http://www.kenyalabradors.com/chocolate_labrador_california/images/chocolate_lab_9.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="184" src="http://www.kenyalabradors.com/chocolate_labrador_california/images/chocolate_lab_9.jpg" width="200" /></a><br />
At the end of our back street there was a BIG 90 something pounds of dark brown big headed dog staring at us. Thankfully, Boomer and the Wonderpup didn't notice, but they DID notice the man walking towards us to go down and look at the dog. All hell broke loose with Boomer booming and Hannah snorting and snarling. All the while I'm trying to get Miracle to NOT go down to the end of the street in case the dog was not friendly. Oh, but because I'm dealing with the dogs straining their leashes and the man wanting them to sniff his hand I lost sight of Miracle.<br />
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The last thing I saw as I was corralling MY dogs into the back gate was her black boot in mid-air running after the dog through the middle sidewalk and into our front courtyard. Yes, just the boot and no body dressed in a pink polka dotted Hello Kitty dress that no one could miss seeing for miles! Just the boot. It was sort of surreal.<br />
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So I get them in the gate and run around to the front and she's nowhere to be seen. I'm calling and running... yeah, I don't run, but I did! I didn't hear screaming or yelling or barking so I was ASSUMING she wasn't being attacked by that big brown creature. I found her and the sniffing hand man down at the end of the parking drive with our neighbor lady. Come to find out he's a very friendly, UN-NEUTERED Chocolate Lab with a huge head. <br />
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So we tried and tried to get the dog to just stop walking. He wasn't running or trotting, but merrily walking and sniffing and slobbering. Thankfully, another neighbor came up in his truck to say he could put the dog in his back patio. GREAT! But, I had to catch him and leash him... Oh, yeah, no collar. DUH! Un-neutered dog, no collar, probably not chipped either. YAY ME!<br />
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We could not get the dog to just stop long enough to loop a leash on his neck until lo and behold.... the mini-lab whisperer walked up and put her arms around his neck where he stayed so I could leash him.<br />
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PHEW!!!<br />
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Now the fun begins! To post posters, call Avid, call Animal control, knock door-to-door.... but, I'm so glad I had my little partner with me to get that big galoot safe and away from the chance of being hit by a car.<br />
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Kudos to my little rescuer's heart! MeekoMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00476005865752199144noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254868816569924065.post-57306008135609617762012-12-03T13:52:00.000-08:002012-12-04T08:40:19.426-08:00Talking animalsAs almost anyone I know knows I am obsessed with animals and the welfare of such creatures. I, do, however have such a fascination with the "talking" animals, mainly dogs. I can sit and replay a video of a Husky talking... over and over and over. I just think it's the funniest thing. Today I was graced with the below video and thought I would share it along with two more of THEE funniest ones I've seen.<br />
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#1 Husky sings with baby:<br />
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#2 Oh Long Johnson<br />
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#3 Ultimate Dog Tease (absolute favorite)<br />
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#4 Cat Playing "I Spy"<br />
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Have fun!!! <br />
<br />MeekoMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00476005865752199144noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254868816569924065.post-37934238789331534892012-10-16T13:32:00.003-07:002012-10-16T13:32:58.949-07:00I Am Grateful<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2xAJEOZtJua0gHW3SfbRZkkts3A9i4P_-qI4Tt_dL3UEeuIGbIcygcaeuvho7F9EzU9lGb2UDV275Ce2sZvD1RSl3KAPFZr9TDjaORfoBdLMQ-2iKaajASw5Q_rlWMvRE33fhtM-rlfM/s1600/grateful.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2xAJEOZtJua0gHW3SfbRZkkts3A9i4P_-qI4Tt_dL3UEeuIGbIcygcaeuvho7F9EzU9lGb2UDV275Ce2sZvD1RSl3KAPFZr9TDjaORfoBdLMQ-2iKaajASw5Q_rlWMvRE33fhtM-rlfM/s320/grateful.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent">I
am so grateful for a child that is trying to do her best even at her
worst. I'm grateful that we can giggle about it later. I'm grateful
that I have the means to have a home that we can giggle about it later
IN. I'm grateful that I can feed that said child and that she has not
had to go hungry even when I have felt despair at the thinning means to
do so. I am grateful and thankful for the people in my life, far and
near, for each one has taught me so much along the way.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent">I am so grateful for being given the opportunity to give back of myself to help others. It gives ME pleasure to help when I can, to give where I can, to make pain go away with the tools I've been given and learned to use. I am not on a self-gratifying mission in this life. But, at the same time, it IS self-gratifying. I LOVE to do it. </span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent"><br /></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent">I am grateful for my sight. Without it, where would I be? How would I survive without something that I've taken for granted my ENTIRE life? Right now I struggle to see WITH glasses. I can not imagine struggling in complete darkness with only sounds, smells and touch to help guide my way. I see others so CONFIDENTLY walking with their sight sticks or assistance companion dogs and think how grateful I am that I am not them. But, in reality... they DO see the world differently and maybe a bit more intensely with their other senses so sharpened. They don't take anything for granted. I will no longer do so myself.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW5dEf3yarmaRCol3SY5kOzKhacl5fUGS48Tkb3aksDgng6mr49T72zm8wyig-TmaBoY0g5uQjS3SYaU29sXH88ipioXM08pAJ3wAe97ZR3B4HA2vDgprMhW_r18xcmSQpuATha8HYftA/s1600/0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjW5dEf3yarmaRCol3SY5kOzKhacl5fUGS48Tkb3aksDgng6mr49T72zm8wyig-TmaBoY0g5uQjS3SYaU29sXH88ipioXM08pAJ3wAe97ZR3B4HA2vDgprMhW_r18xcmSQpuATha8HYftA/s320/0.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent">I am actually deep down grateful for my struggles. I've struggled in the past few years with where my life has gone. It is definitely not where I thought I would be. I've struggled financially, emotionally, mentally... and, why??? I wasn't here two years ago, but I AM in a better place than two years ago... or five years ago. I'm grateful for those five years that have made me a much stronger person, even when I don't realize it. Even when I don't FEEL it. In the end, I've gotten through everything that has come my way. It's time to stop. Recharge my engine and move forward with the strength that has been gathering. I can feel it. I know it's there.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9juunq9S1PHOF3zHfADFo0OE3Nn8xfr5Ixf6XktYWTn2BDPQH0zbAGxoeNO2-tS6kvXh5QYmTGwxnU2r0gG0gmx2HR3glvO9j-b9hjqsx4f0sxgZHwIrsvtMnwPYiA1KbcH6jgYMd3-Y/s1600/Trudge.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="125" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9juunq9S1PHOF3zHfADFo0OE3Nn8xfr5Ixf6XktYWTn2BDPQH0zbAGxoeNO2-tS6kvXh5QYmTGwxnU2r0gG0gmx2HR3glvO9j-b9hjqsx4f0sxgZHwIrsvtMnwPYiA1KbcH6jgYMd3-Y/s200/Trudge.JPG" width="200" /></a></span></span><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-size: small;">This life is such a gift (and I've been talking about life gifts a lot lately) that I can not waste and take for granted. I can no longer think of just getting through one more day to the next. When one does that, there is no enjoying the road you are traveling on. It just becomes "trudgery" (Yes, I made up that word. Not that it hasn't been said before, I'm sure. Yay me!). </span> </span></span> </span></span></span></div>
<h5 class="uiStreamMessage userContentWrapper" data-ft="{"type":1,"tn":"K"}">
<span style="font-weight: normal;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"><span class="userContent"><i><span style="font-size: large;">Be grateful. Be honest. Be kind. </span></i></span></span></span></h5>
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MeekoMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00476005865752199144noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254868816569924065.post-42753023849310293862012-10-05T19:45:00.000-07:002012-10-05T19:47:36.694-07:00Brody the Hell HoundWell, I thought I would attempt to get a little creative on our evening walk and video tape it. As you will see our set up to exit went pretty well and SHE did what she was supposed to do. I, on the other hand, did not. I broke one of the training Master the Walk rules in there somewhere since I was the one that was distracted with the camera upon exiting ourselves from the house.<br />
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Our neighbor’s dog, Brody, is a rescue from the streets of Compton so he is a legit BAD ASS! I love him, however, and have never met outside his home. From the sound of him, you will know why. Over the years when we pass by I always speak to him and he has grown accustomed to the sound of my flip flops, Boomer’s smell and the sound from his collar. He likes us too, I’d like to think. He is forever behind his black security door in the dark and I’ve not really seen him until two days ago… for the first time. All I saw was a hunched up brindle creature with its head low to the ground and BIG WHITE TEETH in this gaping yelling mouth. All I could think of was pity for him. I’m not sure how often he gets out… probably entirely not enough.<br />
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We always know when someone is walking my out front because the first thing you hear is Brody, followed by a yell and then an expletive in one loud form or another.<br />
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In my humble, most amateur video the first sound you hear is Brody. Yes, that is a DOG. He is then followed by Hannah yelling back and me scrambling to get a grip to calm her down all the while trying to “stay calm and assertive”. Uh… yeah, right.<br />
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#FOSTERDOGMOMMASTERTHEWALKFAIL !!!<br />
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Even with this little hiccup in our walk, we had a very good walk thereafter. Hannah did really well! <br />
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<br />MeekoMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00476005865752199144noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254868816569924065.post-6604968307895053152012-09-29T00:13:00.001-07:002012-09-29T00:15:25.063-07:00The Chronicles of Hannah... the Wonderpup - Part 2<div style="text-align: right;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My crazy Miracle</td></tr>
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So Hannah came to live with us on Friday, July 24, 2012. Mona brought her to our home and it was oddly reminiscent of the times we had the foster kids come to live with us. It was such a familiar feeling having someone on their way to drop off a little package to remain in my care... A little package to love unconditionally.<br />
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Miracle and I were waiting in such anticipation. The last time a foster creature came to live with me was nine years ago! That creature has never left. I wonder what will become of this new creature that is now named Hannah...?<br />
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Hannah being as feral as she was (and to some extent still is), had not had the experience of being able to lie on a couch or sleep on someone's bed. It was and is still so obvious to me that this little girl was not shown any kind of unconditional love... at least that stuck with her in her memory.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mr. Boomer Bo Dingo</td></tr>
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When Mona got to our home we went for a walk together to see how she would be with Boomer. Now... Boomer is an interesting soul. We adopted him from the shelter at six months old so he rather knows the ropes around here being the ripe olddog teen at 7 1/2. He is also a very stable unstable dog. He loves other dogs, mostly, but some people, not so much. I think that's the negative side of having Boomer as my Hannah dog rehabilitator. But, that's okay. He has really stepped in to help Hannah become a DOG!! But, I digressed.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Holly</td></tr>
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Once we went on our walk we took Hannah inside. It was very plain to see that she'd most likely never set foot on hard flooring. Her poor little paws just didn't know what to do! After slipping and sliding around a bit, she was able to get her bearings and explore her new digs. She quickly seemed to relax. She even didn't seem to mind being around the cat. The cat, however, had a difference of opinion. She was not too thrilled to have another four legs in our place. AT ALL!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Night 1</td></tr>
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That first night seemed so easy. All was really going well... She felt comfortable enough to hop on the couch... albeit as far away from Boomer as possible in the beginning. By the end of the night when it was time to go to bed, she didn't hesitate jumping on the foot of the bed where she seemed to have a homing device planted prior. She curled up and fell asleep, snoring all night long. No crying, no whining, no scratching at the door to get to the freedom of the dark, quiet night world that she was so used to before. To this day, two months later, she has yet to make one mess in the house.<br />
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Was she REALLY found as a stray in a truck stop? Seriously, this girl came house trained!<br />
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<br />MeekoMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00476005865752199144noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254868816569924065.post-9296146276888580022012-09-10T13:21:00.000-07:002012-09-10T13:29:21.965-07:00The Chronicles of Hannah... the Wonderpup - Part 1<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-weight: normal;">Below is the video and the post I saw of this cute, little honey colored
pup that completely captured my heart. I'm not sure how I was even drawn to the video posted on Facebook
or to the person that posted it. The person is <a href="https://www.facebook.com/#!/mona.chaichi">Mona Chaichi</a>. She works tirelessly (well, maybe s</span></b><span style="font-weight: normal;">he is actually always tired as she works, is a student and rescues as many as she can on her own).</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> </span><b><span style="font-weight: normal;"><br /></span></b></span><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-weight: normal;">I use a Facebook page </span></b>for my dog, <a href="https://www.facebook.com/#!/boomerbeau.dingo">Boomer Beau Dingo</a>, to network, share and post about stray animals, rescue organizations and animal stories in the news and around the web.</span></span>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span><span style="font-size: small;">
<br />I began networking for some of Mona's rescues and donated to her efforts. That video of that little dog kept tugging at my heart. I knew Mona was trying to catch her and had been for months along with Hannah's partner, another little GSD pup. They were both living in a truck center for about a year I found out later. </span></span>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">That little pup, who Mona named Hannah, has made it into our home and has snuggled into our hearts. I can't believe I am actually fostering her! My former rescue life has come full circle to me. I'm unable to be out there as I used to actually doing the physical work of rescuing so fostering Hannah satisfies that yearning... for now!</span><span style="font-size: small;">
</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;">Please read about Hannah and go to Mona's Facebook page from the link above. If you live in Orange County or the Los Angeles area, please consider donating, fostering or adopting any of the great pups she has needing a caring, safe, loving home. </span><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Hopeless In The Blazing Sun to Becoming The Sunshine Herself!
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">By Mona Chaichi of "<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="fbPhotoCaptionText"><u><b>DogTag: You're It Independent Rescue</b></u>" </span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="fbPhotoCaptionText">dogtagyoureit@gmail.com</span></span></span> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">July 7, 2012</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=10150888074136134"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;">Hannah's first video</span></a><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="fbPhotoCaptionText">Southern
California/Local Adoption Only </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="fbPhotoCaptionText">Can you provide a loving forever home
for this sweet girl? Her name is Hannah and she has finally been rescued
after having lived for months on end in the blazing sun in a truck lot,
roaming in between trucks, and hiding in the field for shelter. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="fbPhotoCaptionText">We
first noticed Hannah about 5 months ago in this desolate area in a truck
lot. In our attempts to rescue one dog that day, we spotted her in an
enclosed area with fencing all around. When we drove close the first
thing we noticed was that her head seemed twice the size of her
body -- that's because of how severely underweight she had been on our first
sighting. When we drove a little closer, she was already long gone and
out of sight. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="fbPhotoCaptionText">We've gone back to the area for several other rescues
and hadn't seen her until two weeks ago. We went back a few times including
4th of July but we failed at catching her. Good Samaritans who work on
the lot had been feeding her for awhile so she had put on a good amount
of weight but still underweight. With the heat approaching the high 90s
we were scared for her, knowing how easily she was dehydrated and could
easily overheat and suffer a heatstroke so we needed to see her that
day. Thankfully we spotted her on July 9th desperately laying on the
concrete in the hot sun exhausted and dehydrated. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="fbPhotoCaptionText">What seemed like an
eternity to bring her to safety... we finally had our sweet girl. What
we know about Hannah is that she is approximately 18 months and weights
37.01 lbs and is an absolute sweetheart who hasn't seen real love and
affection. Please help in providing Hannah a loving forever home where
she can feel safe and loved. She will be completely up to date with all
needed medical on Tuesday, including vaccines, spay procedure, dental
polishing, fecal test, heartworm test, and of course microchipped. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="fbPhotoCaptionText">You
may contact us via dogtagyoureit@gmail.com if interested in adopting
Hannah. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="fbPhotoCaptionText">Facebook link: <a href="http://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=10150888074136134" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">http://www.facebook.com/<wbr></wbr>photo.php?v=101508880741361<wbr></wbr>34</a> <a href="http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10150923163761134.417423.638111133&type=3" rel="nofollow" target="_blank">http://www.facebook.com/<wbr></wbr>media/set/<wbr></wbr>?set=a.10150923163761134.41<wbr></wbr>7423.638111133&type=3</a> </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana,sans-serif;"><span class="fbPhotoCaptionText">Thank you, Mona & Sara </span></span></span></div>
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MeekoMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00476005865752199144noreply@blogger.com0Lancaster, CA, USA34.6867846 -118.154163234.4778831 -118.4700202 34.895686100000006 -117.8383062tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254868816569924065.post-49132651561961819382012-08-22T10:51:00.001-07:002012-08-22T10:53:17.101-07:00The Rescue Bug...Where did this all start? My obsession with animals and rescuing and liberation and behaviors... and, oh my!! I don't know why, but I've started questioning it as of late and then stepped back to take a look at my life and how I got here. What a journey it has been too!<br />
<br />
In actuality, I haven't had that much of a variety of pets in my life, but they ALL have been rescues in one form or another. Beyond the miscellaneous bugs and lizard creatures my brothers brought home from the vegetable farms across the street, it really began with our childhood dog, Shamus. Born on St. Patrick's day in 1976, he lived to be 17 years old. Poor Shamus had gotten out of the back yard and was picked up by Animal Control about three miles or so away from home. I think he was on his last travels to find his own resting place away from the family so we wouldn't have to suffer in finding him. At that time we had to make that tough decision to end his misery and help him cross that great Rainbow Bridge. <br />
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Shamus was the runt of his littermates. His mom was a purebred Husky and his dad was a purebred German Shepherd. Talk about two very primal breeds mixing! Shamus had the coloring of the GSD, but the coat and curled tail of the Husky. He was a durable dog that LOVED to play rough and was extremely loyal and protective. My older brother had a paper route in the neighborhood and the owners were giving away their pups (very careless compared to today's standards of adopting out). But, those were definitely different times. People actually cared for and loved their pets. Nowadays, those people are in the minority it seems. But, I digress.<br />
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Shamus went everywhere with us. We used to go dirtbiking in the desert and one time, at a good distance away from camp, I saw this black shape out the corner of my eye. It was Shamus running at full speed to keep up with us. Needless to say, after that long romp, he refused to leave his blanket back at camp. His pads were so tender and sore.<br />
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Shamus had his ups and downs and his goods and bads. He was poisoned along with a few other dogs on our street. One very early morning I kept hearing a banging outside my window. My dad went out to see Shamus convulsing on the ground. We rushed him to the vet where they were able to stabilize him and he recovered. We were fortunate to have caught it in time and he was saved by his size... a mere 45 pounds. The miniature Collie nextdoor was, unfortunately, not as lucky. His name was Happy and his mate was Lucky. Hmmm, ironic. The other neighbor nextdoor had a beautiful Doberman along with young children. They found a sausage in the backyard laced with poison. Scary to think it could have been one of their children. We all suspected it was the gardeners that maintained the house behind us. They used to harass Shamus over the wall and most likely did the same to the other dogs as well. <br />
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I am so blessed with so many good memories of Shamus. I never thought I would have another dog let alone one as good as he was. I've been proven wrong. I've been blessed with an equally good dog... just not as feisty!! <br />
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My rescue adventures to be continued...<br />
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<br />MeekoMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00476005865752199144noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254868816569924065.post-79298843799017985562012-07-18T14:00:00.000-07:002012-07-18T14:00:43.412-07:00Sleep talk... Sleep Walk... Sleep Punch... Sleep Kick...... bruises abound!<br />
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I read a post the other day about how this guy's wife sleep talks. He's noticed it since they got married. HA!! I can up you by about 110%, buddy! After my story you'll be thanking your wife for JUST sleep talking.<br />
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Going back to when I was a spry youngster, I remember my parents telling me a short quippy story about how my younger brother, Greg, and I sleep talked. Not only did we sleep talk, but we sleep conversed!! I can't remember any specific conversations we had, but I do remember my parents saying how we would converse in the hotel rooms we stayed at while traveling or laying in our sleeping bags camping.<br />
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I've always thought my brother and I are twins three years removed.<br />
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When my ex-husband and I adopted Miracle we noticed -- or moreover <u><i><b>I</b></i></u> noticed because I was the one always awakening every two hours to feed her, but I digress! -- that she began having minor night terrors very early on. I think that was the fallout of her three and a half week stay at the hospital on constant ventilators immediately after birth... but... I digress! <br />
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As she grew, she continued to have night terrors where she would be lying in bed then bolt upright as if she were possessed by the devil himself... yelling or crying or telling someone not to open the cupboard or wanting her cousin to stop and go the other way or cooing and oohing at Boomer, the dog.... Sometimes she would pound her fist repeatedly into her pillow mumbling something about something. In all honesty, there have been so many instances over the years that there are too many to count and remember.<br />
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There was one time whilst lying on my back oh so comfortably (or so I thought because I was SOUND asleep), when I was RUDELY awakened by a fist connecting to my NOSE!! Oh... just another night terror!<br />
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There have been numerous times that I've had my shins kicked and scraped and little arms and legs trying to borough themselves DEEPLY under my own appendages, side and back. <br />
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But, I digress!<br />
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All these fond memories were brought back to my attention when my brother came down to visit and stayed in Miracle's room for a few nights. He said he was awakened repeatedly throughout the night between Miracle's shout outs to the air followed my by soothings of "oh, it's okay. yeah, yeah. go back to sleep."<br />
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Hmmm, the sleep talk curse seems to have come full circle!<br />
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<br />MeekoMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00476005865752199144noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254868816569924065.post-32939570566965328042012-06-28T13:04:00.002-07:002012-06-28T13:05:41.809-07:00A day at the beach... Real vs VirtualSo, yeah.... I'm in my... ahem 40s now and I dare say that I really hate going to the beach. I've been so very blessed with a girl that LOVES the beach. LOVES the water. LOVES swimming. But...<br />
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REAL...<br />
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I hate the heat. I hate the never-ending blaring sun with no shade. I HATE, no ABHOR, the sand and it's wily little sharp edges that wedge into everything you bring and creates icky, crunchy sandwiches. I hate having to be the mom pack mule that I am and have to carry everything down to the very farthest edge of the sand that connects our toes to the vast wonder of the ocean. I LOVE the ocean, however, and all the amazing creatures held within its mysterious depths. ::sigh::<br />
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What has happened to me in my old age? I used to love going to the beach and couldn't get enough of it. We would ride our bikes or take the bus it seemed the MINUTE school was let out. We may as well have invested in beachfront property because that's where we lived. We, obviously, frequented Main Street when Main Street really was the cool place to hang out. Main Street was really alive when the old-style storefronts were around and The Golden Bear was pumpin' out the music. There was a certain feeling being down there growing up that just isn't there now. <br />
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Don't get me wrong, Downtown Huntington Beach is nice, but it sure doesn't have the old surftown charm it had in the past. They've really done up the storefronts and added the stage by the pier. These are all nicely added new charms that bring in more revenue... and way more people.<br />
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Getting me into a bathing suit is a definite no-go... hell no! So, yes, if I'm brave, I will put on the long mumu-ish swim tankini bathing suit top thingy and some board shorts. Yeah, nothing that's going to be saying, "Heeeaaaayyyyeeee! I'm super sexayyyyy!!" But, I don't give a shit! If it gets me out in the water with my Little Miracle Mermaid, then so be it. And if I'm not sexaayyy and you think I'm uggllaayyyy... I don't give a shit! Just don't make any beached whale jokes and all will be copacetic!<br />
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VIRTUAL...<br />
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My dream day at the beach would go something like this.<br />
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Miracle and I (being a very slender bikini clad rockin' hot mommy) would go down to the beach where we would have front row parking. We get out of our car and step right onto our very own, personal conveyor that will take us -- yes, hot-sand-free -- to the edge of the ocean where we will lounge on our own cool hot-sand-free, shaded pad that is already set up for us with misters, towels, water -- a cool fruity umbrella ladened drink for me -- and all the fresh juicy fruit we can eat.<br />
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This is the reality... ... and this is the virtual...<br />
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<br />MeekoMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00476005865752199144noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254868816569924065.post-7594046695650136882012-06-16T11:36:00.000-07:002012-06-16T11:37:14.640-07:00A bark park fiasco...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTkHANdvYi7-ha-xeoNt1PE8h09XqcIpQxeXmBouWgxcZha6fGbBgvSW_AgnwH6pTvFqc1-UJlAkbLXVeY9-8h8tFvJwaP9evAJdV2prDrB0SV_UB9OiZGCt9J_0j6vNg-A6R8D6ZKH1w/s1600/545177_10150849437478786_162677998_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTkHANdvYi7-ha-xeoNt1PE8h09XqcIpQxeXmBouWgxcZha6fGbBgvSW_AgnwH6pTvFqc1-UJlAkbLXVeY9-8h8tFvJwaP9evAJdV2prDrB0SV_UB9OiZGCt9J_0j6vNg-A6R8D6ZKH1w/s200/545177_10150849437478786_162677998_n.jpg" width="136" /></a>Last night was our play date with our good puppy friend, Lulu. We anticipated a night of dog romping, running, barking, tail wagging fun. Sadly, we just didn't have the intended experience. <br />
<br />
For some reason my Boomer was on edge the moment we arrived, after we went in and through the end of the night until we got home. He entered the park with the prominent ridge standing on edge along his back. His tail was curled high at alert attention the whole time. I didn't think anything of it too much as he does that when Miracle is with us and he is in "protect mode". <br />
<br />
However.... At one point I had my back turned talking to one of the nice doggy parents and in the back of my mind I heard his bark, far away and rather faint. Then it hit me that he was REALLY barking!! I spun around to see his haunches low to the ground, ridge at full attention with his head back and high. For this dog, whose normal demeanor is submissive and usually quiet, he was putting on quite the show of fear holding his stance and NOT MOVING an inch.<br />
<br />
He was showing this display in front of a man that had entered the park. The man stood his ground to Boomer as well, but there was just something off. Not right. I think Boomer had sensed it. I immediately ran over to him to pull him away, but Boomer wasn't having it. I tried to work with him to calm him down, but to no avail. The man was saying that he wasn't afraid of Boomer. Well, okay, good for you, but there's something off. Not right. <br />
<br />
As Boomer was continuing to bark, the man wanted to try and console him. He thought by talking nice to him, bending down and getting into his face... will somehow help. Um, no... don't do that Mr. Man that thinks he's a dog whisperer.<br />
<br />
Boomer, with his head low, tail high, swooped behind the man to get a quick sniff and went into high Boom Bark mode once again. Okay, we're done here... I took him to another part of the park where Boomer contined to track the man visually and bark in his direction. <br />
<br />
Lo and behold... I started to do the same, thinking that My Boom is trying to tell me something. I could not recall seeing the man with a dog when Boomer had him stationed nor could I see him with one when I removed ourselves from the situation. A completely uneasy feeling crept up inside me. Maybe it was the fears and concerns of my past working in animal rescue that brought up the feelings of maybe he was there to scope out the dog park... to take a dog to sell to a laboratory. Yes, that does happen... it is NOT an urban legend. <br />
<br />
Boomer refused to calm down after all this. His ridge was up constantly and he was beginning to see others as adversaries for the just in case factor. I'm not sure, but we unfortunately left the park to go wait for our little Lulu. She hadn't arrived to the park at this point. What an ordeal!!<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEWp10cNUacgCmv7sGdB7DZbkPV0bYPOXKqyjGj40i4oHlHCH9ualTXu0fMWYusmK3-jzWlW260vdmeqKtAvt_QST4jdw2CS1yADS1lXKm7VFRKkv4nscgOs6qos_N1sKathuv6UpKJ6A/s1600/551718_10150968916569618_1710457852_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEWp10cNUacgCmv7sGdB7DZbkPV0bYPOXKqyjGj40i4oHlHCH9ualTXu0fMWYusmK3-jzWlW260vdmeqKtAvt_QST4jdw2CS1yADS1lXKm7VFRKkv4nscgOs6qos_N1sKathuv6UpKJ6A/s200/551718_10150968916569618_1710457852_n.jpg" width="123" /></a>So Miss Lulu arrived and we go back into the park. Looking back, I think the air was muddled with some sort of negative energy because both dogs were just a little off... between Boomer's ordeal and both thinking they need to protect Miracle, we need to leave once again. <br />
<br />
But that's okay and all good. We walked to the park where Miracle played for a bit then we went for ice cream and frozen yogurt. OKAY, what can possibly happen that is not easily fixed with some relaxation, frozen yogurt and ice cream??? Hollah!!!<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWYDowAbzTHP7FakdpReDBrF7kFqMkMXvnEL1XznySmcamFV-X1hrPZYwT3IiZpMcbVB4h7P2eDLalIuimboAEL8m0AFkrRYJw4Ej_kF-_qAQGB7WRtz0JV20sZbt51E2qvLM9W6fFVqg/s1600/Untitled.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWYDowAbzTHP7FakdpReDBrF7kFqMkMXvnEL1XznySmcamFV-X1hrPZYwT3IiZpMcbVB4h7P2eDLalIuimboAEL8m0AFkrRYJw4Ej_kF-_qAQGB7WRtz0JV20sZbt51E2qvLM9W6fFVqg/s200/Untitled.jpg" width="154" /></a>Boomer and Lulu got to play a little bit together outside the stores and I think I realized that Boomer found his play match. He is such a verbal little soul and Lulu can handle it. I think it's a bit vice versa as well. He felt so much more comfortable romping around with her and that made me feel much more comfortable as well. <br />
The only other dog that Boomer feels comfortable playing ALL OUT with is his little Chug cousin, Abbey Rose. SHE is a GINORMOUS dog in a tiny dog body and kicks some Boomer butt!!!<br />
<br />MeekoMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00476005865752199144noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254868816569924065.post-21997349578241261562012-06-11T10:46:00.000-07:002012-06-11T10:46:14.761-07:00Waking to the sounds of life...<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgab2QMWygdsAzkIP-06pkYMkuYoRguJSa9U7_N7TC135FVS2dejetshNCkvKLDiMIK1jAXGmMQjaRi7-ovn6ioeg7yezWkt8OrgPtBfQzp8z0mYadNhWAUgz4nAusvwIH_nxqYXNp1WIQ/s1600/saturdaymorningsleepin72.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="143" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgab2QMWygdsAzkIP-06pkYMkuYoRguJSa9U7_N7TC135FVS2dejetshNCkvKLDiMIK1jAXGmMQjaRi7-ovn6ioeg7yezWkt8OrgPtBfQzp8z0mYadNhWAUgz4nAusvwIH_nxqYXNp1WIQ/s200/saturdaymorningsleepin72.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="post-author vcard">Painted by
<span class="fn">Belinda Del Pesco</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So rarely do I have mornings where I just casually and slowly awaken without the sound of "Moooommmmm???"...<br />
<br />
The wee child stays the night at her dad's house on Saturday. I love the Sunday mornings when I wake up in the early hours when it's still so nice and cool. It's quiet outside and I feel
the cool breezes coming in through the window. They tickle my face. <br /> <br />
As I lay there and the time passes, I hear the birds awakening and
merrily chirping. Then I begin to hear the boulevard come to life off in the
distance. I hear the sounds of the wakening world... the smells of
breakfast in the kitchens upwind, the kids that have escaped the
confines of their homes to gleefully play in the early hours. Yes,
believe it or not, they escape that early. <br /> <br /> I love to lay there and listen to the orchestra of life on those early weekend mornings.MeekoMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00476005865752199144noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254868816569924065.post-16676983245060327102012-02-09T15:15:00.000-08:002012-02-09T15:15:28.844-08:00It's a Pinkalicious Rainy Day... and a walk with the dog.<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Miracle absolutely, like ALL kids, loves to run through puddles on a rainy day. It was so nice outside so we decided to do such a thing... or, really, she did and Boomer and I tagged along.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I felt it necessary to do a documentary... um, yeah, that's it. Fun times, fun times! Needless to say she was soaked from ankle to waist!!</span><br />
<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwPdaMN--IQ0tbcx7BNYPvWdFs8YFQbEYnoBvHCBcA532IWlD6KIRKRfxrU10PMv2RUmUr6AQEDLnnnI1Yxmg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We really had a fun time doing our little rainy day "documentary". Our other cute video is too large to upload so here is the link. Fun, fun, fun times!!</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://youtu.be/yK6vramnb1o"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">http://youtu.be/yK6vramnb1o</span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></div><div align="center"><br />
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</div><div align="center"></div>MeekoMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00476005865752199144noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254868816569924065.post-58400925145528675102011-11-17T13:24:00.000-08:002011-11-17T13:24:44.012-08:00Halloween...Did everyone have a good frightful Halloween this year? Was it filled with ghoulies and ghosties or faeries and follies? I love Halloween and always look forward to the new memories Miracle makes with her cousins while out going door to door. Halloween is my favorite, but Miracle does go with her dad and that is something they share together... for now.<br />
<br />
Growing up, I just loved trick-or-treating with all our neighborhood friends. For the life of me I can’t remember any of my childhood costumes in any sort of detail except one. Is that a bit odd? I think it’s almost freakish since the one I remember pretty vividly was that of a clown. Clowns freak me out… and I’m not entirely sure why.<br />
<br />
I remember my best childhood friend, Kathy, helped me with this costume. I don’t know where we got all the pieces, but I was able to put together a wig, big clown shoes and an outfit that we dug out of her closet. I don’t know why I remember digging through her closet, but voila! There it was; the perfect costume. Again, I’m not sure why I even remember that.<br />
<br />
My brothers and I had a blast going through our whole neighborhood, dragging our parents behind. I’m not sure it was actually both our parents as I know one had to stay home to hand out the candy. It was probably my dad that would go with us. <br />
<br />
I can just recall the excitement of going door to door with the, at first, cheesy little plastic orange pumpkin that seemingly cut my hand each time I reached in to pull out a piece of candy. I was elated when I finally graduated to being able to handle trick-or-treating with a pillowcase. Sadly, by the time I hit that milestone I was too old to be trick-or-treating and there were hardly any crowds left anyway. Going around the neighborhood was such fun and Halloween has always remained as my favorite “holiday”. <br />
<br />
When I was 16, I worked at Miller’s Outpost in South Coast Plaza. The home of Levi 501 jeans and bandanas!! The crew I worked with was such a fun group of “kids”… except Joe, the moody manager. The year I was 16 my mom put together the most awesome gown for my Bride of Frankenstein costume. We used a white sheet, some cotton for the shoulder pads and some strips of tattered sheet for the gauze arm wrappings. I teased out my long curly hair up into a rat’s nest of great Halloween coif! We sprayed some version of a lightning bolt stripe up the sides of it and called it a costume! With the makeup and the black nail polish, that was by far the best costume I ever had (at least that I can remember. Please revisit paragraph one RE: memory loss). <br />
<br />
Remember the scare in the early 80s of the poisons in the candy and razorblades in the apples? THAT changed Halloween forever. Gone were the homemade popcorn balls and the fun cookies (that ended up crumpled in the pile of goodies anyway, ne’r to be eaten). <br />
<br />
Actually, according to Wikipedia.org (“the truth” tee hee hee), apart from one incident—actually an act of premeditated murder by a trick-or-treater's father—there have been no recorded incidents of deliberately poisoned candy during Halloween or any similar occasion. Okay, solves that myth. <br />
<br />
What were your little grommets dressed up as as? What were YOU dressed up as? It was a super foggy Halloween morning today, but ended up with nice, clear skies for the evening… Clear enough to see the ghosts shimmering in and out of the shadows. Clear enough for the Zombies to be able to see you and shuffle to your direction.<br />
<br />
MMmmooooooAAAHHHhhhhaaaaaaHHHHHAAAAAA!!!MeekoMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00476005865752199144noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254868816569924065.post-46442353767872204742011-10-25T13:45:00.000-07:002011-10-25T13:45:45.730-07:00The Single Mommy Money Pit... "the dog"Will it EVER get any financially easier??? <br />
<br />
Right when, within 24-hours of uttering the words to my dad, "wow, I've been able to actually save up a little money and have a wee bit of a cushion", do I no sooner have to shell out more money to the vet... YET AGAIN!<br />
<br />
After spending oodles and oodles of money that I don't have over the summer for a new medicine regiment and "special" dog food. Having to float some bills. Having to creatively smart grocery shop (yes, as always anyway!!!). Not being able to replace the two pairs of shoes that I HAVE to wear over and over and over and over again that are on the verge of disintegrating before my eyes. Having to shell out yet more money for the public school Miracle goes to that needs donations and PTO and fund raisers and....<br />
<br />
Poor Boomer, my little knight of a furry four-legged beacon of utter unconditional love!!!<br />
<br />
He had a bout of :: ahem :: diarrhea for about four days. He was eating and drinking and being his usual flexible, I-don't-want-to-worry-or-inconvenience-anyone self. I took "a sample" to the vet where he proceeded to tell me that he had no parasites... but, then that would mean no money for him! So, of course, we need to take a course of action with i/d Prescription food for gastrointestinal issues, then a pill for the diarrhea and a pill for something or other else. <br />
<br />
Well, because I am who I am, I went for it. And, yes, that was after I broke down in the vet's office yammering about the money I spent over the summer and how I'm really struggling to make it. I REALLY am!!! <br />
<br />
And then I look down at that honey colored furry friend of mine with the golden brown eyes. "It's okay, mommy" he seemed to say. "It's okay, mommy, cuz it's always okay. It always works out."<br />
<br />
God, I love that dog!!! My heart fills with the warmth of the blood gushing and rushing around when I look at that face! That handsome little knight of a furry four-legged beacon of utter unconditional love face!!!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiqazUI9dXkruznW0n5hpLuGH-lWHkS91DoZpcEQt0e5f0lVhdxREMin8mCddRp3HRFCy-4CnPd1AXHZU2gJVrGiBDe7zzcTsESd14zt-SDlPwxIj5Yy8G2fwQWZEiaQM7gS4SSaAZYEU/s1600/100_4231.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiqazUI9dXkruznW0n5hpLuGH-lWHkS91DoZpcEQt0e5f0lVhdxREMin8mCddRp3HRFCy-4CnPd1AXHZU2gJVrGiBDe7zzcTsESd14zt-SDlPwxIj5Yy8G2fwQWZEiaQM7gS4SSaAZYEU/s200/100_4231.jpg" width="200" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwecOsEt3VdSPHXGsHVfmUGypncFZeRSi3crSLe7-SY9xsgrm3jgI_2AV9TZ2O1uztQzIJk2-kuNh8E3Nm0-wgnUUSYwZqtfOqmNARkyUyqtaTAtz1O5eXh_MIUpZVqR9CPKbxKHg3mgM/s1600/P1010036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwecOsEt3VdSPHXGsHVfmUGypncFZeRSi3crSLe7-SY9xsgrm3jgI_2AV9TZ2O1uztQzIJk2-kuNh8E3Nm0-wgnUUSYwZqtfOqmNARkyUyqtaTAtz1O5eXh_MIUpZVqR9CPKbxKHg3mgM/s200/P1010036.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>MeekoMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00476005865752199144noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254868816569924065.post-50162440667268567592011-10-10T13:09:00.000-07:002011-10-10T13:09:32.369-07:00From the Earth...... through the eyes of an eightyear-old.<br />
<br />
Miracle took the leftover wrapping paper that was old and crinkled, flipped it over and drew this picture that we hung up on the wall as we don't have any artwork up there. <br />
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I love what she came up with....<br />
<br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">... the brain!!</div>MeekoMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00476005865752199144noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254868816569924065.post-24234782028681472362011-10-04T08:50:00.000-07:002011-10-04T08:55:51.265-07:00Sierra vs Sierra SidewinderOkay, this is some funny stuff. Miracle (Sierra) was about five years old when she FIRST rode this ride. THIS is the video of that first time. She was so scared and I thought I would never get her on it again. After this first ride, she wanted to go on it again and again and AGAIN! <br />
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To this day, this is one of her favorite rides and this video makes us both laugh to tears almost. Actually, my mom says this ride is a form of child abuse. I just LOVE how she starts out so excited, happy and carefree! She has no idea what she is actually in for.<br />
<br />
But, all joking aside I had to film this video from the DVD/TV so it's definitely not as good as the original. You should get the idea!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/Bop1b5dQ-Hw?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>MeekoMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00476005865752199144noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254868816569924065.post-23867275054087322022011-10-03T13:53:00.000-07:002011-10-03T13:53:54.322-07:00Boys vs MenI really liked the below snippet that I read... re-read and then had to steal, of course, to share.<br />
<br />
It gives me some great ponderence-ness to this. The blurb should be self-explanatory, really.<br />
<br />
Sharing....<br />
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Boys ask questions ---- Men give answers!!! <br />
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Boys play house ---- Men build homes!!! <br />
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Boys shack up ---- Men get married!!! <br />
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Boys make babies ---- Men raise children!!! <br />
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A man will raise his and someone else's!!! <br />
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Boys invent excuses for failure --- Men produce strategies for success!!! <br />
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Boys look for somebody to take care of them --- Men look for someone to take care of!!! <br />
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Boys seek popularity --- Men demand respect and know how to give it!MeekoMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00476005865752199144noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254868816569924065.post-20521987501405961962011-10-03T13:46:00.000-07:002011-10-03T13:46:09.723-07:00#41 of the top 50 blogs in: single parentWell, this is an unprecedented level from me in the world of miscellaneous trivial accomplishments....<br />
<br />
My singlemommyrants is number 41 of 50 blogs... See, see? And I only have two followers. <br />
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Yay for me.... Hahahah!<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsvjEqKr_ewQ7W0CytAPHWQf9YrFK0s5ODvuUno8lBlBTSDTjp-9nXp6pHnFqMQjm356iQtz4T6I7D3zO69v7fv7F-jj1NK4eqPbM4DRr0zWRap5iqkyfu-MGQ977lvpTIOfxSMoBA9ZY/s1600/SMR.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="100" kca="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsvjEqKr_ewQ7W0CytAPHWQf9YrFK0s5ODvuUno8lBlBTSDTjp-9nXp6pHnFqMQjm356iQtz4T6I7D3zO69v7fv7F-jj1NK4eqPbM4DRr0zWRap5iqkyfu-MGQ977lvpTIOfxSMoBA9ZY/s400/SMR.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>MeekoMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00476005865752199144noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254868816569924065.post-72140933961090878982011-06-14T12:56:00.000-07:002011-06-14T12:56:52.510-07:00A Dog's Purpose? (from a 6-year-old)Okay, fine! Here's the second and last one for today... again, copied from an email a friend sent me. Seems to be so true. <br />
<br />
So, of course, you have to take these with a grain of salt... like, this really happened, but it makes for a nice read and makes you think a bit.<br />
<br />
**************<br />
<br />
Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a ten-year-old Irish Wolfhound named Belker. The dog's owners, Ron, his wife Lisa, and their little boy Shane, were all very attached to Belker, and they were hoping for a miracle.<br />
<br />
I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I told the family we couldn't do anything for Belker, and offered to perform the euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home.<br />
<br />
As we made arrangements, Ron and Lisa told me they thought it would be good for six-year-old Shane to observe the procedure. They felt as though Shane might learn something from the experience.<br />
<br />
The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker’s family surrounded him. Shane seemed so calm, petting the old dog for the last time, that I wondered if he understood what was going on. Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away.<br />
<br />
The little boy seemed to accept Belker's transition without any difficulty or confusion. We sat together for a while after Belker's death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than human lives. <br />
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Shane, who had been listening quietly, piped up, ''I know why.''<br />
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Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next stunned me. I'd never heard a more comforting explanation. It has changed the way I try and live.<br />
<br />
He said, ''People are born so that they can learn how to live a good life -- like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?'' <br />
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The six-year-old continued,''Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they don't have to stay as long.''<br />
<br />
Live simply.<br />
Love generously.<br />
Care deeply.<br />
Speak kindly.<br />
<br />
Remember, if a dog was the teacher you would learn things like:<br />
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When loved ones come home, always run to greet them.<br />
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Never pass up the opportunity to go for a joyride.<br />
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Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be pure ecstasy.<br />
<br />
Take naps.<br />
<br />
Stretch before rising.<br />
<br />
Run, romp, and play daily.<br />
<br />
Thrive on attention and let people touch you.<br />
<br />
Avoid biting when a simple growl will do.<br />
<br />
On warm days, stop to lie on your back on the grass.<br />
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On hot days, drink lots of water and lie under a shady tree.<br />
<br />
When you're happy, dance around and wag your entire body.<br />
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Delight in the simple joy of a long walk.<br />
<br />
Be loyal.<br />
<br />
Never pretend to be something you're not.<br />
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If what you want lies buried, dig until you find it.<br />
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When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close by, and nuzzle them gently.<br />
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<strong><em>ENJOY EVERY MOMENT OF EVERY DAY! </em></strong>MeekoMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00476005865752199144noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254868816569924065.post-56314923683397316542011-06-14T12:40:00.000-07:002011-06-14T12:40:15.344-07:00The blind girl...I read this again today. It was sent by a friend and it makes you kind of stop and think... <br />
<br />
There was a blind girl who hated herself because she was blind. She hated everyone, except her loving boyfriend. He was always there for her. She told her boyfriend, "If I could only see the world, I will marry you."<br />
<br />
One day, someone donated a pair of eyes to her. When the bandages came off, she was able to see everything, including her boyfriend. <br />
<br />
He asked her, "Now that you can see the world, will you marry me?"<br />
<br />
The girl looked at her boyfriend and saw that he was blind. The sight of his closed eyelids shocked her. She hadn't expected that. The thought of looking at them the rest of her life led her to refuse to marry him. <br />
<br />
Her boyfriend left in tears and days later wrote a note to her saying: <br />
<br />
<em><strong>"Take good care of your eyes, my dear, for before they were yours, they were mine." </strong></em><br />
<br />
This is how the human brain often works when our status changes. Only a very few remember what life was like before, and who was always by their side in the most painful situations. <br />
<br />
Life Is a Gift. <br />
<br />
-- Today before you say an unkind word, think of someone who can't speak.<br />
<br />
-- Before you complain about the taste of your food, think of someone who has nothing to eat.<br />
<br />
-- Before you complain about your husband or wife, think of someone who's crying out to GOD for a companion. <br />
<br />
-- Today before you complain about life, think of someone who went too early to heaven.<br />
<br />
-- Before whining about the distance you drive, think of someone who walks the same distance with their feet.<br />
<br />
-- When you are tired and complain about your job, think of the unemployed, the disabled, and those who wish they had your job.<br />
<br />
-- And when depressing thoughts seem to get you down, put a smile on your face and think: you're alive and still around.MeekoMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00476005865752199144noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254868816569924065.post-13734756754618958252011-06-06T11:49:00.000-07:002011-06-06T11:49:27.596-07:00"Is my mommy dead?"<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I guess you really don't know how much your kids know of something until they start asking questions. Some things just aren't talked about that often. Finding that right time, or that right way to talk about touchy subjects is a difficult thing to do. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We were all on our way to a bar-b-que this weekend and I was talking to my nephew's friend about how she is half Native American like Miracle is. It was a very interesting conversation as you wouldn't guess in a million years that she has anything other than Anglo-Saxon in her blood. She just seems to tan easily. That's the only giveaway and even then, you'd have to really notice it.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So... Miracle shoots me this question from the back seat, ever so randomly:</span><br />
<br />
<div align="center"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"Is my mommy dead?"</span></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Well, of course, that threw me for a HUGE loop and I had to pause to figure out what to say. Making a little light of it I said "no, I'm right here driving the car". Silence. Then I asked what she meant and if there was something she really wanted to know. Silence. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We have always been honest and open around her about her adoption and have answered her very few questions over the past few years, but this one came from so far in left field! I asked her if she meant her birthmom and she responded with a tiny reply of confirmation.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Of course, I don't know if the woman is alive or dead, incarcerated or not, living here or back on the reservation... or <strong><em>living in a van down by the river</em></strong> (thanks, Chris Farley!). Sometimes I wish I did know, but with her history it would be nearly impossible to find her. Even if I had a social security number, that would be one of about 50 they found that she had. But, I digress!</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">One thing Miracle did ask me in the car that gave me a bit of a twang in my heart was that if it would be okay if she could see her. I gave her the canned answer of "not right now", but if she wanted to when she was older she would definitely have my permission. She then asked if I could be there with her. Well, there went that heart twang again. I told her that I would definitely be there with her if she wanted me to be.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I love that little girl of mine!!!</span></div>MeekoMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00476005865752199144noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254868816569924065.post-19697658841243786472011-04-18T14:40:00.000-07:002011-04-18T14:42:50.140-07:00On being bullied....Bullying is sad, pathetic, angering, debilitating and just down right nasty! It's unbelievable what has been reported in the news about teen bullying and just bullying in general. <br />
<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_lvYsGAk92rnbHH3lGDWOMje3KPmV1nA7jOuzswBV1jNSiM5WE9dTDxlcLt6_6bKTtWcfg06zS3PstNOvOYwy4xCmfDkT2O1RVSb8dMrXct5Vq0TqPCI5lKqLteILIqiPhqfXbZMueT0/s1600/Bully1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="151" r6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_lvYsGAk92rnbHH3lGDWOMje3KPmV1nA7jOuzswBV1jNSiM5WE9dTDxlcLt6_6bKTtWcfg06zS3PstNOvOYwy4xCmfDkT2O1RVSb8dMrXct5Vq0TqPCI5lKqLteILIqiPhqfXbZMueT0/s200/Bully1.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;">Three very good friends have experienced bullying through their young kids. From the beginning of time, kids have been "not so nice" so, this isn't new and I'm not just having a "revelation" or an "epiphany"!! About a couple years ago I was "reunited" with the name of a gradeshool bully and her cohort that ABSOLUTELY tortured me and made me afraid to be on the playground alone. It wasn't until very recently that I was told of some Kharmic payback news that, yes, made be feel a little better. </div><br />
With this news also came memories of other gradeschool events and other classmates opened up and shared with me their own memories of being bullied...<br />
<br />
I'll never forget in about second grade. There was a girl named LeeAnn. LeeAnn was a very quiet and shy child, but she was also "slow". As kids we all just knew that she was <em>different</em>, but never really understood why<em>. </em>With a lot in life, kids are not privvy to the details of such things. <em> </em>LeeAnn lived in my housing tract about four streets over and none of the kids would cross in front of her house because her mom was "<em>a witch"</em>. Yes, in modern society those folklores of strange people that may not fit the norm are labeled very creatively. Poor LeeAnn was teased in school... immensely and relentlessly. Gaggles of kids are good individually, but when you get them together, they become a mob -- a sometimes very sinister mob. How they transform like that is still beyond me to this day.<br />
<br />
One day in class LeeAnn had a seizure. It was <em>bad</em>. Well, witnessing that for most would be horrific and terrifying. For some of us it really was, but sadly for others it was just another door that opened up to give license to tease poor LeeAnn even more.<br />
<br />
All I can really remember during that short period in class was someone running to get the teacher from somewhere else in teacherland outside our room, a group of kids standing there staring in sheer horror and other kids laughing. I'll never forget, and I don't even know how this came into my little seven year old brain, that I put my foot under LeeAnn's head to keep it from bouncing repeatedly on the floor as foam was coming out of her mouth and her eyes rolling up into her head. Thinking now, I should have wanted to run out the door, arms flailing!<br />
I don't remember how much time after that day had passed. She was out of school for awhile. At one point my friend and I were determined to get to know LeeAnn. Along with a really good group of my close friends, we never partook in the events of breaking LeeAnn down and bullying her. We tried to become more than just classmates to her. We went to her home and played, baked cookies and stuck up for her when the other kids grew their horns around her. <br />
<br />
And then she vanished. She and her family moved away to I have no idea where. LeeAnn never really warmed up to us 100%. I think it was out of trust, or MIStrust as the case may be, but also maybe a little because my friend and I started to get bullied. I'll never really know.<br />
<br />
I didn't care.... Thinking back I think I just wanted to let her know that we weren't all bad.MeekoMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00476005865752199144noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254868816569924065.post-60221774359571440472011-03-08T15:09:00.000-08:002011-03-08T15:09:12.820-08:00Mardi Gras = FAT TuesdayI sooooo love New Orleans, or as the locals say it "Nawlins". I love the flavor, the feel, the <em>idea</em> of New Orleans. There is so much to do and so much to see right in the French Quarter that you needn't go far for a good time. <br />
<br />
I guess I have such a connection to New Orleans maybe and mostly because my Grandma was born there.... in 1895. My grandma died just five years before the new millennium in 1995. Talk about a long life of changes and experiences and family and babies!!! I can't even count how many cousins I have... first, second, third and probably even fourth. My Grandma was 44 when my mother was born and that made her the 13th!!<br />
<br />
My Grandpa was born in or around 1878 in Louisiana also. I believe he was born in Baton Rouge. What a gentle "giant" he was. While Grandma was about 4' 10", Grandpa was at least 7' tall! Well, as a child it sure seemed that way, but in reality he was about 6' to 6' 2". He had the most beautiful cool, blue eyes! Those eyes, or very close variations of them, are sort of the trademark of the Benoit family. Sadly, I didn't get those eyes, BUT I did get the "Benoit Butt". Okay, at least you can tell I'm related to an extent.<br />
<br />
I used to love to talk to Grandma about being a little girl in "Looziana". I loved hearing her accent with the softness of her voice. She rarely raised her voice at us that I can remember, but when she did you knew she meant business. She'd threaten that she would either shoot us in the pants and make us whistle or would tell us to go play out on the Boulevard (that would be Bellflower Blvd. to be exact). Right across the street from here....<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTczRuqEogBhMH3z9Rcd_anJb_H_hGu4lM0rD15g0mIJTi5pj5ObrRXYTgBfHRDz5bWqyn3Rn6S8k2nwc_rYkYWQm15HXIA2IRektvhnmDXk_sZk3yX9hLjAmB53cBBF-tekXw2Vb9gCk/s1600/GMA1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="160" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTczRuqEogBhMH3z9Rcd_anJb_H_hGu4lM0rD15g0mIJTi5pj5ObrRXYTgBfHRDz5bWqyn3Rn6S8k2nwc_rYkYWQm15HXIA2IRektvhnmDXk_sZk3yX9hLjAmB53cBBF-tekXw2Vb9gCk/s320/GMA1.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh81hWN02yDb5EZ_Ay0lj6iKOuy_zXqpMDqmYngeiQktZ6004OF14hKGOVnWv4tr_sAljlt1y1E8xIjO9RniM9uu7sxbBk5edNbS6xfTVCsqL0AZ-uptkQa557NBJqpZUHBOJ3_wRMjcxU/s1600/GMA2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="133" q6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh81hWN02yDb5EZ_Ay0lj6iKOuy_zXqpMDqmYngeiQktZ6004OF14hKGOVnWv4tr_sAljlt1y1E8xIjO9RniM9uu7sxbBk5edNbS6xfTVCsqL0AZ-uptkQa557NBJqpZUHBOJ3_wRMjcxU/s320/GMA2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><br />
</div>This is the house that we were at so often. For Christmas Eve, the family would get together and there would be an easy 200 people eating homemade Gumbo... the BEST Gumbo on the planet! I have so many wonderful memories there as so many kids do of their grandparents' house. I have to credit the memories to the fact that there were ALWAYS aunts, uncles and cousins galore!!! You were never alone. <br />
<br />
But I completely digressed here...<br />
<br />
I always wanted to go to Mardi Gras, but would NEVER go against Grandma's wishes. She always told me to never go to New Orleans during Mardi Gras. It was too dangerous. "There's too many bad things that happen", she would say. Whether she was right or wrong at the time, I heeded her warnings and just never went.<br />
<br />
I may never get the courage or the gumption to go... just plain out of respect, I guess.<br />
<br />
I have, however, been to New Orleans enough times to know that I like it and know that a part of myself was borne of the city. Both my parents are from Louisiana as well as all of my mom's immediate family. The state just calls out to me somehow. <br />
<br />
So, aside from walking down my little memory lane with me, I wanted to wish everyone a very happy Mardi Gras and hope you get all the hethenisms out of yourself today.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;"><em><strong><span style="color: #351c75;">There's a thing I've dreamed of all my life, and I'll be damned if it don't look like it's about to come true—to be King of the Zulu's parade. After that, I'll be ready to die. </span></strong></em><br />
<br />
<em><strong><span style="color: #351c75;">Louis Armstrong, Time magazine, February 21, 1949 </span></strong></em><br />
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</div>MeekoMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00476005865752199144noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7254868816569924065.post-12086781559291883412011-02-18T16:33:00.000-08:002011-02-18T16:33:42.136-08:00Rockin' the hair!<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I just love some of the hairstyles Miracle has had... It's been a fun journey thus far!</span><br />
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<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYvWDj_7DW3onzBjT9EAoEAZ59Ry67APc2JPoUcSehgZKPl86gLfAsa9xOH_pT4CRlndwj823UHf59eLtOqdiIU7pTS2FJ0Rd92VoZbP-ToGwBM21h0IkAxml3eoJwaryDJIHJJOsoD_E/s1600/AFRO+PUFF.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYvWDj_7DW3onzBjT9EAoEAZ59Ry67APc2JPoUcSehgZKPl86gLfAsa9xOH_pT4CRlndwj823UHf59eLtOqdiIU7pTS2FJ0Rd92VoZbP-ToGwBM21h0IkAxml3eoJwaryDJIHJJOsoD_E/s320/AFRO+PUFF.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, even dirty camping at the Joshua Tree Music Festival hair...</td></tr>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1jKs7z5iFFh8tOKtlfQc7dx42rAHaWzA4Kyc8-di_cTUtsntKHeK8SFlyPcZh16ywiGnag83ozY4x_9TilxCSMNp_FunVZGGOVTFpli32aeUSK1kDSZkHwLh9ZOgDbOS_-_J-kWtpiGE/s1600/100_1062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1jKs7z5iFFh8tOKtlfQc7dx42rAHaWzA4Kyc8-di_cTUtsntKHeK8SFlyPcZh16ywiGnag83ozY4x_9TilxCSMNp_FunVZGGOVTFpli32aeUSK1kDSZkHwLh9ZOgDbOS_-_J-kWtpiGE/s320/100_1062.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She always has to adorn her crown with something!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD6PG0FmM3h2rhb3rdJbEulboyC2fOTQXnjs_UQIPNilSQpu_q6uSjlg0bHEtlmCLAtt0zBZN0DmZ183dMwSn3Xsz5VQxXZseycx1QPZBgO-rq81tcHx9MnbDzkE-oz2Kq4WxinKoKgZ4/s1600/092606+077_A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD6PG0FmM3h2rhb3rdJbEulboyC2fOTQXnjs_UQIPNilSQpu_q6uSjlg0bHEtlmCLAtt0zBZN0DmZ183dMwSn3Xsz5VQxXZseycx1QPZBgO-rq81tcHx9MnbDzkE-oz2Kq4WxinKoKgZ4/s320/092606+077_A.jpg" width="181" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dancing Queen</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc5pekU6pWDlmRezsAxFvab3T9b8ABmFq_WPNd5g88rGC6UAoPJ-5boI6cpoHKHzFAyjw_HAfnBuc_RTJ7KubYxrXjRjMl-nW51_1l80klqwiXNCqNPiPgN_quG_Y7f5PIdHKB6wQCqTk/s1600/09-06+-+10-06+100.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc5pekU6pWDlmRezsAxFvab3T9b8ABmFq_WPNd5g88rGC6UAoPJ-5boI6cpoHKHzFAyjw_HAfnBuc_RTJ7KubYxrXjRjMl-nW51_1l80klqwiXNCqNPiPgN_quG_Y7f5PIdHKB6wQCqTk/s320/09-06+-+10-06+100.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the many hour and a half combouts</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjekDCvFtOKgHOujSnYpNWppMxyqqLcz3NfAsWOLYShdiJ9A8oySA8qYbWeRDRGyKz5oAnUnqaFn79-LTWg3fs3X4sPr5KtbZFsuIiO0LgT7u9QSYkFTgzRrGywQeE8keyVnZeDcXq0cU8/s1600/MeekoBraidMosaic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" j6="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjekDCvFtOKgHOujSnYpNWppMxyqqLcz3NfAsWOLYShdiJ9A8oySA8qYbWeRDRGyKz5oAnUnqaFn79-LTWg3fs3X4sPr5KtbZFsuIiO0LgT7u9QSYkFTgzRrGywQeE8keyVnZeDcXq0cU8/s320/MeekoBraidMosaic.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana;"></span><span style="font-family: Verdana;">I'm sure there is much more to come on the Miracle Hair Menu of her life!!</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div>MeekoMommyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00476005865752199144noreply@blogger.com1