Thursday, June 30, 2016

What Else Can Go Wrong

Did you know? A holiday weekend looms large. Much preparation is in the works and I am tired. It is 9:30 and we have just stopped working. Supper? HeWho is always worried about trivial things like food.

China King is preparing something. I went to shower and told him to just pick something. Really, I don't care. I just want to sit here and do nothing.

My Pepsi machine has been an on-going repair for years and I finally decided that I was not willing to spend another penny on it. This machine we own. Owning it meant that I could fill it with whatever product I chose, but owning it also meant that I could not pick up the phone and have Pepsi repair it. Pros and cons, you know.

I have a Coke machine inside. I am restricted to only Coke products and I have to purchase my product from them. They are crazy expensive, about $10 a case for cans. I only buy the 20 oz. bottles from them and have to charge almost $2 a bottle to make enough money to cover the product and the cost of keeping it cold. Don't forget sales tax .... I buy the rest from where I find the best price.

My Dr. Pepper machine started shocking people, especially those wet barefoot children at the pool. Called the distributor and he came right out. He even took a look at my dead Pepsi machine. He agreed with me that it was not worth any more repairs. Then he asked to see my Coke machine. Smart guy, this Dr. Pepper man. He proposed a better deal than Coke, a bigger cooler and is even willing to let me sell Coke and Pepsi product out of his machine!!

My two brand new soda machines arrived Monday. As happy as I am to have new equipment, this meant I had to unload two machines. The outdoor cooler was quite full. I engaged my new dump wagon to hold everything. I was so happy I thought of it. It was going to save me numerous trips carrying heavy trays of cans.

While I was busy patting myself on the back about my great idea, I dropped a can of grape soda and it sprayed my legs. Fortunately the door of the machine blocked my upper body. I rinsed my legs and the mess on the sidewalk and continued unloading, time being  something I don't have a lot of. I finally pulled the last can out of the machine and headed in the building. 

I pulled my big wagon full of cans through the door and a root beer can rolled off and hit a sharp edge and started spraying root beer into the air. No such luck that it would roll out the door, no, it rolled into the store all the way to the check-in counter. Roll, spray, roll, spray, roll, spray. Great way to start my Monday!

After I cleaned the root beer from the ceiling, my hair, the walls, my arms, the counter, my face (you get the picture), I waited patiently for the call that the machines were on the way .... so that I could unload the indoor machine.

That one went better, no exploding cans. The transfer was accomplished and they loaded the outdoor machine (for which I am grateful). The indoor machine could not be loaded. My salesman forgot the plastic bottle holders. So, there I was, left with all manner of boxes of product and trays of cans all over the floor of my store.

Today, he arrived bright and early to put the plastic in place. I sent him on his way, preferring to fill the machine myself. Took up most of my day, but I didn't drop any cans. My box of rafts and rings arrived for the pool and I re- merchandised that wall.

As the day was drawing to an end, I carried my pail of paint to the newly assembled picnic tables, hoping to get at least one done before I ran out of light. I did manage to accomplish my goal and then the unthinkable happened ......

As you all know, I am never without the store phone. It rang, I took the call, while still brushing on the paint. After ending the call, I stuck the phone in my bra. When I bent over the get as much paint off the brush as I could, the phone fell into the paint.


I don't know what annoyed me most, the loss of the paint that stuck to the phone and my hand, or the fact that phone no longer works.

Can hardly wait to see what tomorrow brings.

Sunday, June 26, 2016

Where Is It Written


Having nothing to do with the title or subject of my post ..... after mowing the dog park I stood looking over my work as a cool breeze swept over me.


It looks so peaceful and inviting, wish I had time to just sit there.


We kept the trees when we built the dog park, to offer shade to dogs and owners, as well.


Even if I did sit down, I would see some weeds to pull and then start thinking about edging the fence, or adding more seating, or plants to the area. That is just the way I am.

Okay, yesterday was hectic and after I took the glue from my lips and showered, I tucked myself and four dogs in bed. Oscar must have sensed my fatigue and he skipped our 1 am walk. This should be a good omen for the day. At least I thought so when I got up.

We had a man here with his 15 year old daughter and 4 of her friends. When he checked in, he argued about having to pay for extra people. My pricing covers 2 adults and up to 2 children under 14. Pretty standard everywhere you go. I know some places that charge extra for anybody other than 2 people. He paid, but reluctantly. Later that day he came into the office to tell me that two of the girls were only 14 and he wanted a refund .....

I pulled out his registration and we looked at it together. Three of the girls were not staying both nights and I had given him the extra person for the second night. I do try to be nice. So I concluded that I owed him $3 and was about to give him the $3, when he said he would just get 3 snocones later.

Later came and he bought $3 worth of ice cream for him and his daughter (the other girls were on their own if they wanted a treat). I told him we were square. "But, I thought we were going to do snocones," he says.  He had been in and out of the office all day long with bits of his own sage wisdom about how I should be running my business and this always annoys me. I was trying to paint the boards for another pool chair and he kept interrupting me for what amounted to nothing.

Early in the afternoon of his second day, more people showed up. One couple stayed all day and had to be told to get out of the pool, that it closed at 9 and chemicals were already in it to shock it. I alerted HeWho that I saw that the man appeared to be packing up to leave this morning and suggested he go collect the money for the extra guests.

He did go over and talk to the man, telling him he needed to check in at the office to pay the rest of his tab. He came in and nonchalantly announced that he was leaving and just came in to say goodbye. I asked if he had paid for the couple that spent the day here yesterday. "They didn't spend the night." Seriously, that was his defense.

A day pass to the park is $5, to just use the pool is $3.50. But I was only charging him $3 per person, a discounted rate because he was camping here. He came around the counter to my side of my desk, which I find to be intrusive and I toyed with thoughts of shooting some wasp spray in his face. He picks up a brochure, exactly like the one he was given upon arrival and asks me where it is written. It is written on my price list, which is posted for all the world to see. I did remind him that I had discussed the pricing structure with him when he arrived and that my prices covered 2 adults and up to 2 children under 14.

He was pushing all my buttons with his attitude, he did pay for the people that spent the entire day here and used the pool, although he insisted they were only here for 2 hours sitting around. I saw them come in and they were still here at 10 pm when HeWho was driving around the park on his trusty golf cart (the golf cart that was supposed to be mine, but that is another story). I think we may have lost a customer and I think I am not unhappy about it.

Saturday, June 25, 2016

You Might Be Tired .... If You Put Glue ON Your Lips

Got up with the sun today. I lay there watching the light peeping through the sides of the curtains, little dog's tail thumping my arm. I knew I would have to take at least two of the critters out, so I got up. It was cool and refreshing outside, after a hot day yesterday. I decided to stay up and do a little gardening.

I open the store at 9 am on Saturdays and find it hard to carve out time for things I want to do ..... like pull weeds. I walked around all my gardens, admiring them in the overcast light. I told the clouds it would be okay to let some water fall. I wouldn't be at all upset if it rained all day. As I started pulling the grass and weeds out of my row of green beans it was looking pretty promising. I managed to weed the entire row and started on another.
 
I had my ear buds in, listening to an audio book. So, when HeWho arrived with a surprise of iced coffee, I was so surprised, I screamed. For some reason, this seemed to annoy him. There I was, bent over with a wad of grass in my hand and deep into the book, when he tapped me on the back! What did he expect?

I put my book on pause and thanked the man for the coffee, but did not apologize for being startled. I looked at the time and decided to use the energy from the rush of adrenalin to mow my side yard. I like to mow. I like to paint. Both things provide instant gratification. You can appreciate the work you are doing. Some times I will create a chevron design with my rows. I like to be creative. Today, I just mowed back and forth with straight lines. I did a little watering, still hoping for some rain.

It was time to open the store, but nobody was about. I planted some seedlings, weeded a flower bed and even raked up the weeds into the wagon. I was liking the day. Answered the phone a few times and picked some peas and beans before heading inside. Cleaned the kitchen, and got out some chops for supper. Still no customers.

I decided to re-pot a few hanging plants and then paint some more slats to make another pool chair. I was running out of energy and it was only noon. Some swimmers came in, since the sun decided to make a full blown appearance. Just as I decided to request a short nap and have HeWho tows take over the desk ...... HeWho tows left to tow.

He left and swimmers started swarming the place, crowding in to my tiny camp store with loud voices and swim noodles knocking around. The door was open more than it was closed. I tried to make the best of the situation and think about the revenue. I flipped the slats I had painted earlier and started painting the other sides.

That is when everybody wanted a snocone. "Are you out of snocones? I don't see any ready." Though I was sorely tempted to just say yes, I had sold all the ones just sitting there, I explained that they had to be made to order. Otherwise they would melt. This seemed to amaze the people standing there. It is crushed ice, people. Ice melts.

Twenty minutes left before I can lock up and go to bed. My lips are chapped, so I grab the tube of Blistex I keep at my desk and smear some on. Okay, I thought it was my Blistex. I also have craft stuff here at my desk, in case I want to do something fun and creative. What I smeared on my lips was a glue stick. Time to close, early or not. I need to sleep!

Thursday, June 23, 2016

Pool Seating


A few years back, well, more than a few, more like 5 or 6, a friend gifted us with two dozen Adirondack plastic pool chairs. Last year saw them broken daily. I knew they wouldn't last forever, but a little more delicacy on the part of our swimmers may have extended the life.

They were not meant to be set in the water front down for the back to be used as a diving board. Not only that, they should have come with a weight regulation. The rule being, if you need to purchase 2 seats in order to fly, then perhaps you should take your own sturdy chair to the pool. One without arms that would dig in between your waist and hips, thus not allowing you to rise from the chair.

No, not me, thank you very much. I have enough sense to look at something before I sit in it. How embarrassing would it be to have a plastic chair stuck to your derriere?? I fit into the chairs, as did most adults with little difficulty, other than the fact that they were low seated. I am speaking of morbidly obese. One such woman came to our pool and proceeded to get her self stuck in not one, but three chairs. She would then waddle into the water and bounce against the floor of the pool until the chair would break in two and release her.

Three times. Not once, once should have been the wake up call that let her know she shouldn't sit in the next chair. On her third water bouncing trick, HeWho is definitely lacking in diplomacy, had been alerted and was there to see the show. He asked her what she was doing and she informed him that our chairs were of inferior quality (not the words she used, she said something else entirely, like piece of $hi!).

HeWho has to be provoked to get angry. This did provoke him, as he was picking up pieces of chairs to dispose of. His answer started with "Lady ..." I always associate "lady" with a man about to enlighten me about something he thinks I am incapable of understanding. HeWho seldom uses that term and never to me. He proceeded to enlighten her about the size of her derriere and what it would and would not fit into. He used plain words, words easily understood by a child.

She has never returned to swim. I doubt it had anything to do with the humiliation of being stuck in a chair, but more to do with her venomous hatred of HeWho just told it like it was. Anyhoo, I have been searching for a chair solution since.

Being a big Pinterest fan I centered my search there, leaving HeWho is not a big DIY fan to do the retail search. I found a pallet design I liked and I e-mailed to my husband sitting mere inches from me. Since he refuses to wear his hearing aids, I have taken to texting and e-mail as a main form of communication.

He agreed that it was worth a try and I started my nagging campaign in February. Pallets, we needed pallets. There is a tractor supply place right down the road from us and they always have lots of pallets. It is a small independently owned place and HeWho sold an old tractor to them. He knows them. I, the prisoner held captive and tethered to a phone line rarely leave and when I do, I would not be frequenting a tractor supply place. I asked HeWho was familiar with the owner to inquire about the mound of pallets.

He conveniently "forgot"! Over and over again. I stayed with my reminding (aka nagging) and he would say he would do it that afternoon, or the next day. Februaury rolled into March, then April. He actually called me one day on his way somewhere and mentioned that the tractor place had a lot of pallets. I wanted to scream. Finally, I just gave up and told him we would have to buy some chairs.

This seemed to give him the impetus needed to stop at the tractor supply and find out that they wanted the pallets gone and we could take all we wanted!!!!!! I was in DIY heaven. Until I started trying to take one apart. The nails refused to succumb to my two hammered efforts. Kamper, Terry, suggested sawing through the nails. Off to Walmart for blades and HeWho is certain that I will cut my fingers off with power tools went to work on the pallet.

It was already June when he finally constructed one chair. I painted the chair and other than the fact that it was not a truly level chair, it turned out pretty good. He altered the pattern a bit and the chair seat is 4 feet long, the back about 30 inches high and tilted at a comfortable angle. It is not adjustable, but you can put your feet up. The seat is 30" wide and it has no arms to grab fat hips. Very sturdy.

No, the chair you see in the picture is not the pallet chair. HeWho is wise in such matters, decided to purchase the wood instead, citing the cost of the blades to be astronomical. I realize he just did not want to have to take those pallets apart, but what ever. That is chair number 4 you see on the work table. I found the lovely shade of pool blue paint on the "oops" rack and purchased it for cheap. White outdoor paint for the rest of the chair.


This is chair number 5 of the 6 pool chairs now residing poolside. We have it down now and are mass producing. A total of 9 chairs will be at the pool. I am searching for golf umbrellas (cheap) to hook to the sides. Each chair cost $11 in lumber. A lot cheaper than anything I saw retail.


I am quite pleased with the results! But .... why didn't I think of this before?

Wednesday, June 22, 2016

A Few of my Favorite Sites #42


So this week I am featuring site 42. I moseyed down to take pictures this morning and got a little carried away! So many beautiful plants to see!


This is the home of DJ and Andrea. It was the luckiest day of my kamp owning life when DJ stopped in to inquire about setting up housekeeping here. We agreed on a site, but he was seeking lodgings on his own. Andrea was leaving this decision to DJ. Right before the arrival date, I had site 42 become available. This particular site has a concrete pad and on higher ground that the site we had agreed upon. I convinced DJ that his wife would like this site more, for no other reason than the concrete pad and patio. Less dirt and gravel will make it inside.


The previous tenants had done a good job with landscaping, but it cannot compare to what Andrea has done since. She definitely has a green thumb and excellent taste!


There is a stave mill close by and with a handful of cash and a heavy duty trailer you can purchase what is called the bolt ends. This would be the end of the tree that is chopped off to make a straight edge in order to make the staves to make the wine barrels. As you can see they are great for landscaping.


Neat and tidy rules the day on this site!


Shady in the trees, the plants seem to flourish under the tender care of Andrea.



I love all the little nooks and crannies that are decorated with special "finds".





Even the back side get special attention, with the sewer hook up hidden behind lattice. Painted to coordinate with the trailer.



The raised gardens are lovely. full of different colors.


You can see all the way to the back trail in the park ...... didn't used to be that way.




Weeds ...... what weeds?? You will find no weeds in this garden! Andrea will come up to one of my gardens when she feels the urge to weed! I never disappoint! I always have weeds somewhere!

  I love this site, nestled in the back row in the trees. Most weekends finds DJ smoking something delicious and folks just seem to gravitate to this spot.


 

I am tempted to call this the "before" picture, but this has been cleared of all the underbrush by DJ and Andrea. They planted some pumpkins in the mound of leaves for the deer to eat. They also feed the squirrels and the birds. Wish they would keep all the rabbits in the back and out of my vegetable garden!!



This looks desolate compared to the oases they have created!


Love the garden bed!

Home grown "leaf" there. They used an elephant ear they planted last year to make the big green leaf. The flamingo looks scared!

This is not all the photos I took. I had to cut some. If a picture is worth a thousand words, then this post is a book!!

DJ and Andrea are just about the nicest people I have ever met. Always willing to lend a helping hand, DJ has offered his considerable building skills to remake the pavilion. Andrea spends her days spreading her gardening skills to her neighbors. I always have good intentions when I want to start a new garden bed. I kind of know that if I can get the plants back there, she will tend them in my absence. Yes, that is a little sneaky on my part!!

I Am Rude


It is raining!! Great joy in the kampground. The flowers in my garden have their faces lifted to the heavens, so happy for the nice cool drink.

Me, I am ecstatic! No swimmers, a day off. I can clean my house and lounge in front of the TV with a dog or two nestled close. I can read blogs uninterrupted, I can cook a decent meal. Lest I get carried away with all the possibilities, I must remind myself that I am still open for business and will still need to answer the phone. Can't have everything, you know.

Yesterday was grueling. The heat was stifling and I could not seem to catch a minute for myself. As the day was coming to an end, I had an RV come in and as I was checking them in, a group of swimmers arrived. I asked if I could help them (just like I always do) and they expressed a desire to swim. I reminded them that the pool would be closing in just an hour, in case they wanted to wait for another day, but they were intent on paying to swim.

I left my overnight guests filling out the registration and turned my full attention to the swimmers. The first girl reached out with a handful of change. I counted it and found $2.50 in dimes and 2 quarters. I told her it added up to $3. She insisted it was $3.50. I showed her that it was only $3, but she would not look at the handful of change, just maintained eye contact with me.

I wanted to finish this transaction and be on to my campers, so I told her that $3 would be fine, since they had such a short time to swim. I extended the discount to the entire group, they all paid and I assigned a site to my campers. Did not give it another thought. One of the group came in and got snocones and I divided myself between the office and my kitchen in order to put together a meal.

I called HeWho in to eat and we were able to finish a meal almost uninterrupted. Phone rang while we were clearing the table and HeWho hates to answer the phone took it ....... I was cleaning up the kitchen.

It was the mother of the group of young people who had come out to swim. She wanted to complain about my rudeness. She said I was very rude to her children and indicated to HeWho that we were rude to these young people because they are racially mixed. When he asked for details about my rudeness, none were forthcoming. He then asked her why she had blocked her phone number ( like the rest of the world, we have caller ID) and she insisted that she NEVER blocked her number and would give him her name and number.

I gave the incident some thought and could not think of any rudeness on my part. Don't get me wrong, I can be the master of rudeness when the situation calls for it. I was busy, handling two transactions at once, but I do that all the time. I admit that I did think the change givers were hoping I would not actually count it. Maybe the first one really did think that her change added up to $3.50. I have found the young people here lacking in basic math skills. I tried to recall any slight on my part and honestly cannot think of a thing.

So, I called the mother back. I started out by apologizing that they felt I had been rude. I asked what exactly I had done to give the impression of rudeness. She said that I was mad because they used change and that I did not want to count it. This made no sense at all, since I did count it. Why would I not count it? Counting change does not bother me. If I had not wanted to count the change, I would have blindly accepted what was handed to me. She did not bring up her racial issue, since HeWho handled that. She asked him if he had a problem with "mixed" children, so he asked her if she had a problem with our 3 black granddaughters.

Beyond saying I did not want to count change, she had nothing. She told me that her family would never be here to swim again and that she had heard things about me being rude to others. I told her that I was sorry she felt that way and that, once again, I apologized for anything that her children may have construed as rude behavior on my part. I was hoping to end with that, but she was vicious, kept saying what a bad person I was, that she had heard about me. I hung up.

I hate phone calls like that. I am not at all worried about her family boycotting my pool. I am pleased that she will be staying away. But, I wondered what she had heard about me and my rude ways. The only thing I can come up with is the incident with the not paying tenant. You will recall that I pulled the plug and evicted the woman who was not a registered guest. She had expressed that she could not believe what I was doing and I encouraged her to believe and spread the word.

If this woman and her offspring are friends with the squatter, well, let me just say this is an element of local society that I really do not want in my park anyway.

Tuesday, June 21, 2016

Play Ball!

Oscar continued his reign as the alpha dog after his special surgery. His lack of testosterone seemed not to bother him in the least. Emmy was a wonderful little mother and Oscar acted like he had three new subjects in his kingdom. Louise was particularly fond of the puppies, we were just worried that she would accidentally swallow one. They only weighed 5 ounces and fit easily in the palm of my hand.

Oscar still accompanied me to work, along with Emmy and the puppies. We would leave the big dogs at home. They probably enjoyed the quiet time. Oscar and Emmy took to going to Home Depot with HeWho loves attention. They were given their very own aprons to wear when they went with HeWho builds (sort of).

HeWho lavished the Oscar with gifts. He bought doggles and hats and toys. He bought for Emmy, as well, and she graciously accepted them and showered him with kisses. Oscar remained aloof, not one to be bought with silly trinkets. Toss a ball, though, and he was your friend for life.

He loved a certain ball that was available at Walmart in a package of three chew toys. Smaller than a tennis ball, he could fit this in his mouth. It had a little bell in it. I suppose the bell was to help the dog track the ball. No problem for Oscar to track a ball. When a ball was in play, he always knew exactly where that ball was. He had focus, my Oscar.

He loved these balls so much that he could smell one inside the package, inside the Walmart bag. No matter how many bags I was carrying, he knew which bag contained his ball. He would remove the package and then tear it open. Not interested in any item, save that ball. He gave the bone or the pretzel or whatever other toys accompanied his ball to the rest of his pack.

This is when the real work would begin. Oscar liked to "season" his ball. Much like a catcher will season his mitt. He would gnaw intently until he was able to remove the little noise maker inside. Now, he would stop this at a moments notice if someone would throw the ball for him to fetch. He always brought it back and would even put the ball into your hand. Every evening he would hop into HeWho longed to be his master's lap, ball in his mouth. He dropped the ball and then hopped down and waited for it to be thrown. He became quite vocal if the ball did not fly into the air as soon as he thought it should.

One by one he would offer the ball to every human in the house until he had annoyed us all. He knew that when I said I was done for the night that I meant it. He would still make noisy objections, though. One night he was doing just that when my sweet Collie picked the ball up in his mouth and tossed it for him.

This is how Oscar and Sarge became the best of friends. Sarge would bide his time until all the people were tired of playing ball with Oscar, then he would take over. Being a Collie, Sarge needed a job. Oscar provided one.

This was not Sarge's only job. Louise, the Saint Bernard, was an escape artist. Being very social, Louise set out to meet and visit with as many other people and dogs as possible. We had a 6' privacy fence, preventing any notions of jumping on her part. She was a digger. She would make a nice little hollow under a fence piece, then head butt the piece until she could squeeze through. She had always been prone to visiting, but when the little dogs came to live with us, she decided they should accompany her on the special walks.

I would look outside and see my faithful Sarge standing next to the opening she created in the fence. He was always sympathetic with my plight, but he would not leave the yard until he was instructed to "go find them and bring them back". He would help me locate them, then start herding them in my direction. Like I said, best dog EVER!

Louise was never contrite about taking the others on an adventure. I suppose she thought they all deserved to go. Oscar was never contrite about anything. Emmy would offer her sweet attentions and try to "make-up" for her disobedience. It was hard to stay mad at Emmy. Oscar cared not if you were mad at him. He just continued with his life of being pampered and fed and gnawed his ever present ball. No matter how ragged the ball got, if you could still toss it, he would fetch it.

Oscar's ball was always wet with slobber. I remember once when granddaughter Layla was about three, Oscar offered his well gnawed slippery ball to her. She took it and looked at it with great distaste and pronounced the ball to be "broked". She immediately washed her hands. Layla has always been a lady.

None of the rest of my dogs have ever loved a ball like Oscar. Just this weekend I found one when I was weeding the fence in the back yard. I took the ball to him and let him smell it. He showed no interest at all. How I would love to be annoyed with a game of fetch with my Oscar!

Monday, June 20, 2016

Oscar Gets A Wife


Oscar's first day in my house was trying, to say the least. My Himalayan cat, Gremlin, was quite insulted at the prospect of another canine in his midst. Gremlin was my anniversary gift one year. I forget which anniversary, other than the fact that it was the year I was tested for allergies ..... and found to be allergic to cat dander. HeWho never fails to astonish me with thought provoking gifts. Maybe he was trying to tell me something??

We have always had cats and dogs. Other pets, too. Ferrets and a squirrel, a duck and a guinea pig. We like animals. I once has pet pigs and some pet chickens, but that is another story. Gremlin was my high maintenance pet. He was plagued with gum disease and bladder stones. His long hair needed constant grooming and he had an attitude. He thought himself to be the superior of the animal kingdom in my house, but even Gremlin succumbed to the alpha-ness of Oscar.

The very first night in my house, Oscar cried pitifully until he was ensconced in our bed, between me and HeWho is a big sucker for tiny animals. Over time I have come to realize that the crying was probably just a means to an end for Oscar. He wanted to claim the middle space of my bed ...... and he did.

Despite the entreaties of HeWho wanted to be the master of Oscar, Oscar chose to sleep next to me. Very close, next to my thigh. I was at once repulsed and enchanted with this little bully. I loved that he chose me, but I already had a dog who chose me over all others. Sarge was my dog. We did everything together. I always took Sarge on my walks. He was so obedient we could have ditched the leash. He loved me over everybody else in our household. He loved children, too. He disdained those who would raise their hand or voice to a little one. If HeWho would pretend to hit me, he would attack him. Better than that, if I actually smacked my husband, he would attack him!! Never me. He loved me. I still miss that dog. He lived 14 wonderful years.

Now that I had two dogs who loved me best, I had to divide my time with them. Sarge got my undivided attention on walks and Oscar had my undivided attention all the time in between. I took him to work with me. I even bought a baby carrier and put him in it while I went about my duties at work. To say the dog was spoiled would be an understatement. I fell madly in love with my tiny dog, so much so, that upon his 6 month birthday, I bought for him a wife-dog.

We drove to get her, Oscar nestled in my arms, me assuring him that he would always be the top-dog. Oscar weighed in at 10 lbs. and was considered to be miniature. We looked for a female with his coloring, black with tan markings. He was such a handsome little devil, we wanted to reproduce him. We found a litter of black and tan silkies (long hair) mini-doxies and I let my rejected (by Oscar) husband choose. We named her Emmy. Oscar was not a weenie, he was an award! This meant Emmy would be another award.

Back in the car, I still held my Oscar. He needed to know he was loved, after all. Emmy fit in the shirt pocket of her new master. Her cute little head sticking out. She would look over at me and my Oscar from time to time, but Oscar was having none of this new puppy! I conceded that she was cute enough, but I declared Oscar to be the best looking dog ever to live.

Emmy grew to whopping 6 lbs. Emmy possessed a wonderful disposition. She loved every one she met and every one she met fell in love with her. She became Oscar's best buddy, but she was also Louise's best buddy. Louise loved Emmy and thought her to be her very own puppy. Emmy allowed Louise the pleasure of flipping her over and back and over again as Louise administered to her new charge. The few times Emmy was scolded, she would run to Louise and hide under neck in her fur. Sarge loved Emmy, as well. Even my daughter Jill liked Emmy. Never Oscar, though, even though he was found innocent of her nausea. Baby Layla would turn out to be the culprit and worth every bit of misery!

Oscar and Emmy parented one litter of excellent puppies. Three little girls and they all looked exactly like Oscar. We sold them for the outrageous sum that Jill had paid for their father-dog. We had one that kept returning and we called her Toni. I secretly thought of her as Adrienne. My baby girl that would move out, only to return numerous times.

After the birth of the three look a-likes, we had  Oscar neutered in attempt to tone down his outrageous ways. We were still struggling to potty train this dog. He was a smug little tyrant and would look at me defiantly and pee on the wall. Our vet thought the surgery would help. It didn't. He still pees on the floor. He is no longer defiant, just matter of fact. He is so sure of my love for him.

My daughters have proclaimed me to be a crazy dog lady. That's okay I embrace my title. It is true. I love my dogs.

Sunday, June 19, 2016

Alpha Dog

I actually made it through the day with no nap yesterday after my night of segmented sleep. I was quite surprised when 9 o'clock rolled around and I was still on my feet. I confess that I did violate my caffeine rule and over indulged, having 4 big mugs of that magic elixir. My heart was all a titter with it, but I stayed awake and able to speak and count money.

I am happy to report that Oscar came around yesterday evening and ate and drank. He was able to navigate the yard long enough to take care of business, then slept all night. Our late night rendezvous did not happen! I was also able to sleep without interruption until 8:30 this morning. That is quite late for me, but I have a feeling I could have slept on through the day until tomorrow morning. Wishing won't make it so.

Oscar seems to be back to his normal self. Demanding and receiving what he thinks to be his right to have. Never mind all the annoyance of himself, I will continue to be smitten with him until his last breath. This annoys my daughter, the one who bought the adorable little scrap of a pup, then abandoned that same puppy to me.

I remember the day she bought him at a pet store and paid an outrageous (I thought so, at the time) price for him. She came into my house, proud as could be, and introduced my new grand-dog to me. "Here, hold him, Mom." I declined, telling her I disdained little "ankle biters". I had "real" dogs. Big dogs.Protective dogs. Low maintenance dogs.

Since she and her husband both worked for her parents, they felt free to bring the pup to work with them, just as I would bring mine when it suited me. I ignored him and lavished my Collie an my Saint Bernard with all my affections. The real dogs. The new puppy had not been in the care of my daughter for very long when she confided that she absolutely hated him. She had a real dog in residence, a big clunky Saint Bernard named Crash. Not because of his size or the fact that he often knocked things over. No, he was Crash because my grandson, Gage, had already named their cat "Burn". Crash and Burn were low maintenance pets. Crash was happy to live outside and Burn was adept at a litter box. Little puppies that grow up to be little dogs can be difficult to train.

Crash and Burn are the reason I ended up with a Saint Bernard (Crash's very own sister-dog) named Louise. I was given the choice of Thelma or Louise. I had not intended to buy myself a dog. I was intent on gifting a Saint Bernard to my then 2 year old grandson, Gage. He chose his puppy and I was smitten with the pretty mask on the 55 lb. female puppy. So, I bought both ..... for the same amount my daughter paid for the tiny dachshund. Pound for pound I definitely got the better deal!

Back to that tiny scrap of a puppy named Oscar. My daughter, Jill, having decided that the puppy's tongue was too long, he was impossible to train, and that he was making her nauseous began her campaign to make me adopt her puppy. She tried to entice a co-worker to take him. After exhausting all possibilities of finding a new home, she declared that she would just "drop him off at the dog pound!"

And now you know the rest of the story ..... my Jill is a smart girl (it is genetic, you know) and she knew her mom would never let that happen. So, I took the dog and all his puppy ways home with me. He had all manner of puppy stuff with him, but mainly a ball that would fit in his mouth. He was already quite adept at fetching, too bad he never picked up on going outside to pee. I chatted with him on the way home. Told him all the rules in my house and the consequences of disobeying those rules. He watched me solemnly with his puppy eyes and I swear to you, he understood every single word!

Too bad that although he understood, he did not care a whit about my rules. I introduced him to his new surroundings and he promptly hiked his short little leg and peed on my dining room table leg. He was indifferent to my scolding. The real dogs were eager to meet this new puppy. Sarge, the Collie, carefully sniffed him and backed away. Louise was excited at the novelty of such a tiny dog and licked his entire body with one swipe of her giant tongue. She wanted to flip his body over and lick the under side, but he growled ferociously and snapped at her.

She backed away, most likely hurt that he did not enjoy her ministrations. She was just trying to be friendly. Later that same day when it was time to eat, Oscar, not a weenie in any sense of the word, took his ball, wet with puppy slobber and placed it in the communal food dish. When the real big dogs tried to eat, he growled and snapped at them until they stood back. He ate his fill, took his ball, thus allowing the big dogs access to food. This is how a tiny puppy became the alpha dog in my house.


Saturday, June 18, 2016

Hard Decisions

The intense heat finally broke yesterday and we were able to get the mowing done. It was still hot, but a breeze offered relief. I rarely get sunburned and did not expect to yesterday, but I did. I wore a sleeveless shirt and that skin that had not been exposed yet, was a bright red, hot mess last night.

Although I slathered aloe on my burns, they were still uncomfortable enough to make falling asleep difficult. When I finally began to doze, the nightly routine of the whimpering old dog started up and I carefully lifted him in my arms and took him out to the kitchen. I told him to "show me" and he headed to the back door. He wandered around the yard, sniffing this, then that. He marked some of his territory before relieving himself on the light pole and then came back inside to drink his belly full of water.

I have learned not to interrupt the drinking of water. Thinking that what goes in must come out, I have tried to prevent the endless lapping, hoping that he will sleep peacefully and not get up again until morning light. This is a mistake. He will roam the bed restlessly and I will just start to doze again when he will whine again. Anyway, who am I to decide when his thirst has been quenched? I knew a mother once who controlled everything her 10 year old consumed, right down to water. She would tell him how much he was allowed to have after he asked permission. Control issues?

Lately, Oscar has been sleeping through the night after the walk and the water. He has, in fact been sleeping until I wake him when I lift him down from my bed. So, I was surprised to hear a loud 'thunk" at 3 am. I was sleeping pretty soundly and at first thought that Wall-E or Toni Louise had jumped down. They can jump down, but can't jump back up into the bed, the bed being quite high, so high that I need a step stool to get in and out.

I started feeling around, touching furry heads and legs to determine who it was on the floor. Cujo lay right next to me, his soft belly exposed. He sleeps on his back. I ran my toes through Toni's silky fur and searched for Oscar's coarse fur. Instead, I found Wall-E. He was staring at me, looking guilty about something. He always looks guilty and apologetic, though.

I jumped up out of the bed and started searching the floor. No whimpers or any sound after the initial "thunk", but I knew it had to be Oscar, just by process of elimination. My heart was in my throat, thinking I might find him dead. He is, after all, very old for a dog. I found him on his feet, on the floor at the foot of the bed on the HeWho side.

He just stood there, not moving, not responding to my voice. I always place him in the middle of the bed, closer to me, but I usually pick him up from the end of the bed closer to HeWho sleeps through everything. I wonder if he was trying to get to his "pick-up" location, trying to make it easy for me and then got knocked to the floor when HeWho stretched his legs out.

If I had kicked something to the floor, I would have known it when my foot met resistance. Not so with HeWho sleeps soundly. I was afraid to pick him up and tried to get him to follow me, but he did not seem to be able to walk. I knelt to his very low level (not an easy task for a woman of my years) and ever so carefully slid my hands over his body to see if I felt anything amiss, then I gently lifted him in my arms and carried him out of the room.

He seemed to want down and I put him down, but he just stood there licking the floor (Oscar is a big licker, the very thing that had him banished from his previous owner's home. That would be my daughter. She claimed his tongue to be too long and that he made her vomit. She was pregnant. She is still not a fan of Oscar). I tired to pick him up again and he started yelping really loud.

So loud, that I was afraid the campers would hear him. HeWho sleeps soundly did not even move. I sat with him for awhile, until he was able to make himself comfortable in Emmy's old bed. Emmy was his wife-dog and she had her very own hand built bed, courtesy of HeWho thought she was his dog. Emmy belonged to no one person and to every person she met. She lived up to her name, Sweet Emmy Lou.

I finally crept back to bed, only to have Cujo's cold nose pressed into my neck at 5 am. He led the way outside with Wall-E at his heels. I tired to lure him back in after he took care of his business, but he stood at point watching the shed window, waiting for his buddy, Martha, the boy cat, to appear. I went back to bed. Barely dozed off again when Toni Louise stretched luxuriously and yawned verbally. She was ready to go out. I tried to awaken her master to deal with her and let me have another hour, but he pretended not to hear me. I could see eye movement under his lids as he waited me out and I finally got up and took her out and brought the other two in , along with the cat.

Throughout all of this, Oscar lay in his bed, not sleeping, but following movements with his eyes. I am now faced with a dilemma. I can tell by the way Oscar is guarding, that he is in pain. Seems to be his spine, between his shoulder blades. He has hurt this area before and our vet gave him a round of steroids and some pain pills. He recovered nicely from that event and just last week decided to "run' from me. He thought he was running fast, but I was able to keep up just walking. Other than this, he is in good health. I would never consider putting him through surgery at his age, but I don't want him to suffer pain.

I guess I have a week to decide what to do. Our vet is back in school and only sees patients on Fridays. The thought of losing my old guy breaks my heart, but so does the thought of him hurting. He Who, on the other hand, is owed some pay back from me. That is what I will be pondering today as I sit here in my four walled prison!

Wednesday, June 15, 2016

Who Stopped The Rain?

Where is the rain? The forecast I saw on Saturday showed 3 days of rain headed our way. Then on Sunday, it showed rain on Tuesday and Wednesday. Yesterday, they lied again and said it would rain last night.

Today, the talk of the rain has disappeared completely. The high heat index is the new topic. This eliminates my day off!!! That is bad enough, but my garden needs a good rain. I woke this morning expecting wet ground and was sorely disappointed. Already hot and humid at 5:30 this morning. I put the dogs out and then crawled back in bed. I woke an hour later with a dull headache.

The headache is still with me, despite the aspirin and is promising to stay with me all day. Too bad, I still need to venture out and soak my hanging plants in hopes they will survive the day. No day off for me ......

Sunday, June 12, 2016

I Need A Towel For My Chair

Can I just say that I truly hate weekends? Two 12 hour days, back to back, watching people come and go and violate my rules and do other unsightly things.

Running on little sleep today and feeling every bit my age .... no, older than that, I am in no mood for nonsense. I will make your sno-cones and direct you to the pool and caution you about my rules, but I am loathe to abide idiots today.

The phone rang and I was asked if the pool was full. Since it is not quite 11am and the pool isn't open yet, I quip that the pool is full of water. The caller took this bit of information very seriously and told me that he wanted to know how many swimmers were in the pool and the reason he was asking is because he wants to come out with 12 people. I have no vantage point of the pool from my office and I was busy making sno-cones. I told him he would just have to take his chances on whether there would be a crowd here when he chose to come. (People come and go and I am not counting heads every 15 minutes to assure someone of the number of people they will see when they get here.)

"Well," he said, "We plan to have a BBQ and everything, and would that cost?" Really, he was sincere and seemed to be taken aback when I quoted prices to him. This is not the state park, I am not subsidized by government funding (my own tax $$ at work).

I had a man yesterday do just that. I was generous enough to let people park in the shade in unoccupied tent sites yesterday since the heat index was triple digits. One man decided to set up and cook on the site and, as if that wasn't bold enough, he invited people to come "visit" with him!! I know this because my competitor called me to see if I had that particular individual registered as a guest, since his friends showed up at the wrong campground.

81 swimmers passed through here yesterday and I was unable to even think about venturing outside to see what was going on.

I changed my pricing yesterday. Swimming is $3.50 and we are open for 8 hours. Pay once and register and you can come go during that 8 hours if you choose. I have not gone up on my price in 6 years. The price of pool chemicals and paint and all the other maintenance supplies have gone up considerably. So, I decided to keep the price to swim the same, but offer a day pass to the park if you want to have a BBQ and fish as well as swim. $5.00 per person. The man on the phone was shocked at my pricing. I told him he could go picnic at the state park ..... it is free. "But, there is no pool."  Such a dilemma.

I do have work campers. They were hard at work yesterday rebuilding the boardwalk to the pool and the pavilion. I know, they picked the absolute hottest day to do that! My work campers are the best. They clean my restrooms and weed eat and build stuff for me.

Yesterday the wives hung out with the husbands and got a good show people watching. Counting the number of times people used the facilities (not enough for the time they spent in the pool, we shock it every night and I will only swim in the mornings before the public has a chance to pee in it). But, by far the most interesting story was about a woman changing out of her swim suit and into her clothes while seated by the pool. My witness saw her remove her swimsuit bottom and then pull her panties on! Poolside. In a chair.

I won't be sitting in pool chairs anymore unless I Lysol it and put a towel down. I made pillow towels just for this. A nice little neck-roll sized pillow at the top and pockets at the bottom to hold keys, phones, books, and such. I have already sold 6. If you are reading this and you swim in my pool, you might want to check out the selection I have left.


 I have excellent taste in colors, even if I do say so myself!

Saturday, June 11, 2016

Favorite Sites and Sights


This is one of the most sought after sites in my park. Sits on a row end that comes to a point, affording lots of room for family fun. It is a seasonal site and occupied by some of my favorite kampers, Butch and April.


As you can clearly see, they keep their site neat and tidy.
 
 


Garden lovers are always welcome here!


I made a sign for April, that is so very appropriate!


Love the deck! Steps down to a nice fire pit.


Lest you be wondering, the fire pit did not come this way. We only provide the site, what you do with it is up to you, as long as it falls within the parameters of good taste. No refrigerators with the door held closed with duct tape are allowed.


Picnic tables come with sites, but some like to build their own.


I love that a lot of my kampers carry on my frog theme and my love of old stumps. A big thanks to Butch and April for being such good kampers and friends!

Friday, June 10, 2016

Tiny Ticks and Wildflowers


Dandelions continue to plague my gardens. This is what I see when I close my eyes at night. It is not that I don't carefully weed and mulch ..... they take root on top of the mulch and grow. If I catch them in time, they are quite easy to pluck out, but miss one and the root will go down through the mulch and the weed barrier and form a long tap root .... to China! Can't be helped, unless I convince HeWho mows to spread weed and feed over the entire 30 acres. I have done this on the smaller yards, but that dandelion fluff can go long distances on the wind.

I suppose I could do what one camper told us to do. He thought eliminating all my gardens, just mow them down should be the way to go. In fact, he thought we would be wise to asphalt the entire park. No maintenance, he said. That would be lovely .......


I will not be taking that advice. My peace lily is blooming. It looked like it had died this winter. I left it in the pot and stuck it outside anyway. It got watered with all the rest of my plants and started new little shoots of life.


Just look at it now. How could I deny myself the pleasure of my flowers?

I realize this one is in a pot, but my grounds are looking very full and lush with tiger lilies and purple bearded iris in bloom. The purple cone flowers are making an appearance and soon the black-eyed suzies will pop out.

My hands look awful. I do have gloves and I use them .... when I remember to grab them on my way out the door. I am fighting my way through a jungle of wildflowers in one of my large gardens. Seems like they came in overnight and pushed their way through to cover the entire area. I am trying to carefully pull them out without pulling up my perennials that were trying to come up.

As I was trimming tree branches, in order to be able to go under them and grab the over-takers and other weeds, I am sure I was coming into contact with dreaded ticks and mosquitoes.

Mosquitoes aren't too bad in the park, due to the bats that feed and the colony of purple martens we encourage to nest here. Ticks are another story. We regularly check each other for ticks. I will find them on my neck right at my hairline, probably because I am usually bending over to grab weeds.
Yesterday, as I was manning the desk to take swimmer money, I was itching. On my right breast. When I found myself alone I would discreetly scratch at my itch, but it was not until I was in the kitchen preparing our evening meal that I decided to yank my shirt and sports bra up and have a look. There was something miniscule there on my breast. Smaller that the lead of a pencil. It was foreign, for sure, but what exactly it was I could not tell. It was itching like crazy and I finally located my bifocals. Really I needed a magnifying glass, but at the correct angle, in just the right light, I finally saw the hair-like legs.

It was the smallest tick I had ever seen and required tweezers to be able to grab it and remove it. And .... it hurt! I smashed that little tick between my thumbnails and felt a satisfying little snap.

Now, though, every little blemish I see on my skin is suspect! Did not stop me from continuing my garden deliverance from wildflowers this morning, though! The only way I could have gotten a tick in my bra was when the cordless phone fell and I picked it up and stuck it back in my bra. Surely I would have felt the thing crawling up my body and into my breast sanctuary to latch onto my breast. I wonder just how long that journey would have taken? I am not tall, but compared to that tick .....

How do I title this post? I could certainly make it titillating (pun intended). Like  "How Far Would A Tick Travel To Munch On My Breast?" I can come up with a lot more, but fear they would be subject to censor.

Wednesday, June 8, 2016

Same Old, Same Old

Yesterday just got stranger after the caller in the morning. The weather was just beautiful. In the 80's, but with a nice breeze. Swimmers came and went and candy and soda flew off the shelves. A good day. Not so busy that I could not visit my sewing room.

Of course the phone rang, but my morning caller did not call back. As the day was coming to an end I got a call from a man inquiring about my tent sites. He seemed to be annoyed at something. I quoted my price and he exploded. He was not mad at me or my tent site. He was at a competitor's campground some miles away. He then asked if any of my sites might be in the shade and I informed him that all of my tent sites were shaded and roomy, located in a line of trees near the pool and playground. His next question was to ask if I would be adding charges to the base price. I told him that my prices covered 2 adults and up to 2 children. He had 4. It would $3 per person per night, bringing it up to $31 for a tent site with electricity.

He told me where he was and that he had just been robbed of $60 for a basic tent site in the sun with no electricity! He said he would be headed my way as soon as he packed up and got a refund. I knew a refund would not be forthcoming. His is a familiar story. I can bet next time he takes his family camping, it won't be there. As much as I might want to get all the money I can with each camper, I also want return business. Price gouging is not the way to insure that.

After the call, I checked in a small travel trailer. The lady did not want a full hook-up, only electric hook-ups. She had two children and requested to be close to the pool and playground. That was easy enough, since those sites lacking sewer hook-ups are right there next to the pool and playground. I was getting ready to close up and get outside to enjoy the remaining day light when the lady with the small travel trailer returned to ask if she could move to the other side of the park if she paid more. Since she had told me they did not use the bathroom in their camper, I told her to go ahead and pick any open site and there would be no extra charges.

Her reason for moving? She said it was too cold on that side in the trees ...... she moved to another site on the other side of the park, IN THE TREES. I can't imagine there was a big change in the temperature. She pulled in the wrong way, then loosed her dogs. I have a leash rule, just like any other campground does, so the phone started ringing with complaints before I could lock the door and escape.

I wish the corn would grow faster so I can hide in my garden when I am outside and not attached to a mower.

Tuesday, June 7, 2016

Call Me

The pool water is reported to be great. Many people have enjoyed it every day since opening. This means I am stuck in this store for 8 hours, itching to escape. I manage to mow and weed in the early morning hours, my fingernails tell the story!

As usual, the phone rings incessantly asking if the pool is open, what hours and cost. It has been the same cost for the past 6 years, the same hours for the past 8 years. But, every season brings the comments "When did you raise the price!!" and "I thought the pool was open until 9!!". I tried leaving it open until 9, but it is hard enough to make people leave by 7, and I am loathe to argue with someone after I have been up and about since the sun came up.

Since the pool does not open until 11, I spend my mornings in my gardens. It is my favorite part of the day. I put an audio book in my ear and pull weeds and clip back limbs water things. I always have the store phone on my person and answer many calls while I am in my happy place. Too many calls. I have caller ID (who doesn't?) and will ignore 800 calls. Today, the same caller has called here 3 times. Same question every time. She has called over a span of about two and a half hours. I don't know if she is calling other parks and calling mine again, forgetting that she already called. "Do you have RV spots?" Yes. "How much does it cost?" 50 amp or 30 amp? "It is a motorhome." Same question from me. Finally she decides 30 amp on the first call. "Are you a Good Sam park?" I offer a discount. "How much?" Ten percent. "How much would it be with the discount?" (It always amazes me that people cannot figure the discount, the price is $30, so it is minus $3) $27. "OK." She hangs up.

Second call. "Do you give a military discount?" Yes, I accept military, veterans, AARP, AAA, or Good Sam (always careful to say OR instead of AND, lest they try to use all the cards). "How much would it be?" I feign ignorance and pretend I do not realize it is the same caller and ask how much for what service. "A motorhome." 50 amp or 30 amp? "30 amp" $27 "OK". Again she simply hangs up.

Third call. "Do you have any discounts?" Now I am annoyed, so I make her work for the information and ask "discounts for ......" And she comes back with her now famous "Motorhome". I am fully vested in playing it out and ask all the same questions I did before and get all the same answers I did before and get the same "OK" and she hangs up.

I am now wondering if she will call back and interrupt my peace again. Some days are just like that.

Sunday, June 5, 2016

Good News


Good news about the knee of HeWho flips motorcycles. The MRI found the hairline fracture to be healing nicely and did not suck the stent in his heart out of his chest. The doctor applied a sturdy brace that takes the pressure off the injured bone and HeWho reports that he has mended sufficiently to tow again. I beg to differ. What I am wondering, though, is why the brace was not applied last week, when he saw the doctor initially. I was surprised when he came home and told me that he had a hairline fracture and they did nothing to immobilize it. I knew I should have gone with him.

More good news. We now have 24 sites occupied permanently. This is not counting the not paying tenant. He is leaving today! But that is not all!! He paid his past due amount!!! I was shocked. He came in the store and I gave him a piece of my mind, then turned him over to HeWho sympathizes. I had told HeWho that the man had to go. I heard a rumor that the bevy of women occupying his camper in his absence were known to be drug users. Could be why the one answering my knock showed up at the door with her pants open.

I have a nice gentleman interested in that site and that will bring me up to 25 permanent tenants who pay. This makes me a happy kamper!

Saturday, June 4, 2016

Bad Mood

I find myself to be in a horrible mood today. Overcast and cool outside, you would think that would make me happy. Perfect gardening weather, but, alas, it is Saturday. The store will be open for 12 long hours. The weather is not promising any swimmers, so it will be a long, slow day.

Unable to go haul mulch to a garden I started yesterday in the back of the park, I resign myself to working within sight of the store. It's not like there is nothing I can do. There are always weeds beckoning to be pulled. I decide to tackle the area around the dumpster and propane fill station. Not the most pleasant of tasks, but it needs attention.

I grab gloves for the prickly weeds I will encounter and start pulling and piling. I should have thought to bring a bucket or a wagon, but I didn't. I am starting to really get a rhythm going and happy to see the results when a car with two men come in the driveway. They do not stop at the STOP sign, but I am just annoyed to be bothered and decide to just let it go.

They want to know if I have tire repair kits in my store. I don't and tell them where they will be likely to find them without going to Walmart. They seem to be surprised that I don't have them. Although I try to anticipate camping needs, I have never had a request for this item, so I don't think I want to invest in the inventory and devote shelf space to something that might sit there for another 12 years before someone wants to buy it.

I go back to my weeding and my audio book. My pile is growing quite high and the area is starting to look a lot neater. I am profoundly annoyed at the garbage collector. Every time he empties, he leaves the dumpster a little further out into the parking lot. We built a fence around the dumpster and it now sits a good 8 feet out of it. I would have left a note on the dumpster, but it looked like rain last night. I am not sure he would have seen it. The dumpster was piled high with Memorial Day leavings. I think people must bring their garbage from home, because it usually fills up the first day!

A big white truck comes flying in the EXIT drive and up to the store. I walk up as the man is getting out of his truck and asking for canned peaches. Another item I have never been asked for. I tell him I don't have them, then ask him if he realizes he came in the wrong drive. "Yeah, but I was coming from the other way." My signs are lettered on both sides, what with me realizing that traffic runs both ways on the road. I am smart like that, so I point out to him that the signs can be read from either direction.

"So, you don't want my "godforsaken" business. Not the word he used. This just really flipped my witch with a "b" switch on. I said, "No. No, I don't want your business." He yelled something obscene and I told him to get out of my park.

Now I am in a foul mood. A really foul mood. I hope he tries to get me fired!! I want to pick a fight with HeWho mows, but he is mowing.

So, I took some pictures of the Martens building a nest on my security light. I got several good shots of them sitting on the rail, twigs in their beaks, waiting for me to leave the area. I edited the pictures on my phone. Then I downloaded them to my computer and the edit was gone. The computer refuses my further attempts at editing. My mood continues to deteriorate. It does not look good for the rest of the day!

 

Wednesday, June 1, 2016

In Or Out and Shut The Door!

Swimmers are out in full force. My door seems to be open more than closed. Drives me crazy. I want to shout at them "IN OR OUT AND SHUT THE DOOR"!

Oddly enough, it is the adults who seem to have a problem, HeWho included. They find it necessary to hold the door open and carry on conversations with those who are in the store and those out of the store. I reminded one man that my air conditioner was on, a gentle hint. He said, "It feels great!" I told him it wouldn't feel great if he left the door open and he still did not get it. Now, I just say, "Shut the door, please."

When I was a child, I did not dare to disrespect adults or their property. Not so much nowadays. Children are left to destroy anything in their path. The parents seem to be oblivious, if they even accompany them into the store. For whatever reasons they seem to think this is a place to turn them loose. Children as young as three will come in with money in hand and I am responsible for telling them what the money will buy. If I happen to be busy, which is often the case, the child will grab a candy bar or bag of chips and start eating. They will have some change in their hand, but not enough to pay for what they take. I have to lock the store and trudge out to the pool, holding the child's tiny hand to find the owner of the child and ask for the money.

The parents seem to think the situation is funny, as they sit there, not even knowing the child is missing ...... or so they say. I have taken it upon myself to educate these parents to the perils of the world. I remind them of the close proximity to the Interstate and the rest area that is in walking distance to my park. I remind them of recent Amber alerts for missing children and tell them just how quickly their child could be taken. I also remind them that I am not liable for their attempt at parenting, as one man seem to think he could sue me if his child disappeared

My mother always told my sister and I that we were smarter than the rest of the world. She may just have been right about that. I know I am not the only business to suffer the vandalism of children unsupervised. You see it everywhere you go. The parents don't feel they are responsible for damages their children create. As far as that goes, they do not feel responsible for damages they, they adults, create.